The Four Swords of Hogwarts

Chapter 1: A Castle Changing

Harry slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the canopy of his bed with a small frown, confused by the dream he had just had. For once, it wasn't a nightmare about the Dursleys or Sirius. Instead, it was fuzzy and already retreating from his mind, but there had been a young woman he didn't recognize. She had just stood there, watching him but not speaking. It had been so strange. He didn't recognize her, but a part of him felt like he knew her. Despite the oddity, he had to admit he was glad for the break from the nightmares.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his feet on the floor. He rubbed his eyes to wake up and slipped on his glasses. He sat there for a time with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands while he gazed at the closed drapes around Ron's bed.

He was thrilled to be back at Hogwarts--he always was and it had been a rough summer--but things also felt different in the castle that year. The wizarding world had changed as it came to realize the reality that Voldemort was back, and it seemed that anxiety was seeping into the school. It was tense and dim, and everyone seemed angry. School had only been back for two months and the house rivalries were worse than ever. It seemed like there was a fight happening every other day. He felt like it was more than just war tensions and house rivalries. He felt like something else was happening in the castle.

Something was changing.

"Breakfast time?"

Harry looked up at Ron with a smile. His friend was awake--at least partially--and had pulled back his curtains. His hair was a disaster and he was yawning loudly while rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"Yeah, breakfast time," Harry said, getting to his feet. "Up. Get dressed." He swatted Ron's leg as he walked to the end of his bed. He opened his trunk and pulled out a clean uniform. He changed quickly, keeping his back away from Ron's sight, messily tying his tie and pulling on his robes.

Once Ron had managed to drag himself out of bed and got dressed, the two of them left Gryffindor Tower to head to breakfast. They entered a nearly full, but nearly silent Great Hall. The silence was, unfortunately, common that year. No one spoke between tables and everyone really only whispered. It was like everyone was afraid of being overheard, as though everyone had secrets. The air was heavy in the Great Hall, heavy with fear, anger, hatred, confusion...secrets. The castle had its secrets, but this was different. It was more than just a secret passageway or chamber; these secrets could change everything, he could feel it.

He and Ron slid into Gryffindor table across from Hermione. As he scooped food onto his plate, he gazed around the Hall, the decorations reminding him that that day was Halloween. Like every Halloween, he took a moment to remember the parents he never knew, and reinforce his hatred of and desire for revenge against Voldemort. Sufficiently filled with his sustaining anger, his eyes drifted up to the Staff Table. Even the professors were silent like the rest of the Hall. All of their faces were hard and drawn as they stared at their plates or out at the students.

He had never seen the professors so serious, not even during the petrifications in second year or the hunt for Sirius Black in third.

It was different now. Something was wrong, and the castle and its residents were changing as a result. He sighed and was about to zone back into Ron and Hermione's quiet conversation when his eyes met those of the Potions professor, Severus Snape. The man's eyes were hard and dark as they always were, devoid of all emotion. As they gazed at each other, Harry felt anger fill him, the same anger he always felt towards Snape. The hatred between them hadn't ever been stronger, and he couldn't understand how Dumbledore seemed to trust the man so much.

There was a tiny jolt in his head and he frowned, wondering what it was. When it didn't happen again, he turned away from Snape, assuming the pull had to do with his scar and Voldemort. He shook his head and turned back to his breakfast just as an owl flew overhead, dropping a letter beside his plate. Confused about who would be writing him, he tore open the envelope.