The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

21. In The Shadows

The Great Hall buzzed with noise after the Sorting Feast had finally come to an end. Plates that had once overflowed with roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, pies, puddings, and towering jugs of pumpkin juice now sat abandoned in various states of destruction. Students lounged lazily across the long house tables, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up, cheeks pink from warmth and laughter. Candles drifted high overhead beneath the enchanted ceiling, which shimmered with deep navy clouds and scattered silver stars.

The mood should have felt triumphant.

After everything. After the war. After funerals and fear and rebuilding.

But beneath the chatter there was something fragile lingering in the air. Something uncertain.

People laughed a little too loudly. Watched one another a little too carefully. And every now and then, silence would briefly fall over a table before someone hurried to fill it again.

After the sorting was completed and everyone had eaten far more than was remotely necessary, Professor McGonagall rose once more from the staff table. Instantly, the enchanted ceiling seemed quieter somehow, the floating candles flickering softly as conversations died down across the hall.

Even Peeves, hovering upside down above the Ravenclaw table wearing someone's stolen tie around his head, paused long enough to listen.

"Attention, students," Professor McGonagall announced, her voice sharp and commanding as ever, though age and exhaustion lingered faintly beneath it now. "I have a few house rules and notices to give out before I allow you all to retire to your dormitories for the evening."

A collective groan rose from several tables.

Someone near the Hufflepuffs muttered dramatically, "There goes my bedtime." A bread roll immediately smacked him in the side of the head.

McGonagall either ignored it or chose mercy.

"Firstly," she continued, adjusting her spectacles, "I have been asked by our caretaker, Mr Filch, to remind you all that any joke items originating from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes are strictly prohibited from use in the corridors."

At once, half the school turned toward the Gryffindor table. Fred and George were not there anymore. But their legacy clearly was.

Lee Jordan's younger brother Kyle looked deeply offended.

"That means you, Mr Jordan," McGonagall added without missing a beat.

Several students snorted into their goblets.

Kyle raised both hands innocently. "I'm reformed, Professor."

"You said that last year before releasing swamp frogs into the Trophy Room."

"That was educational."

"It was slimy."

"Still educational."

Even McGonagall's lips twitched faintly before she continued. "The Forbidden Forest remains strictly out of bounds. Many believe it to be adventurous." Her expression flattened. "I assure you it is one of the most dangerous places in Britain."

At the Slytherin table, Theo Nott leaned toward Draco. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

"It's a forest full of giant spiders and death," Draco replied dryly.

Theo considered this. "...Still sounds mildly tempting."

Beside them, Pansy sighed. "And this is why women live longer."

Sloane bit back a laugh.

Goose, meanwhile, had somehow climbed halfway inside an abandoned dessert bowl and was aggressively licking treacle tart off his paws.