lavanya_six | Harry Potter and the Orders of Merlin

Did I mention that this is a crossover?

July 31, 1998

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall studied the couple sitting opposite her. The man was all grins and mussed hair, while his wife had finally stopped babbling about how impressive the office was (thank Merlin, because she could prattle). Together, they were the answer to the most vexing faculty question of her short tenure as Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – who would take over the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts chair. Throwing in a new Muggle Studies teacher only sweetened the deal.

"Your CV is quite impressive, Doctor, if unorthodox."

"Why thank you."

"Do either of you have any last minute questions?"

They both replied in the negative.

"I do hope you won't let rumor mongering frighten you. You have my assurances and the assurance of our late Headmaster that the curse on the DADA chair has been broken with You-Know-Who's death."

The man frowned. "Really? That's too bad."

"…pardon?"

"Oh," said the man, "we like trouble. Isn't that right, Donna?"

"Yes." She paused, then grunted, "Dear."

Minerva waved her wand and conjured the requisite contracts before the married couple. The man merely took up his quill and began to sign an elegant signature. The woman, meanwhile, stared wide-eyed at the display of magic, then fumbled with the quill. Her signature was barely better than Minerva could have produced in her Animagus cat-form. Muggles, she sighed to herself. I hope the students don't eat her alive.

Once the contracts we safely deposited elsewhere, the Headmistress addressed her newest employees. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Rowling. The both of you."

Chapter 02 – Crossing Over

August 1, 1998

Harry and Ginny were joined by Ron and Hermione. The two couples crowded around Minister of Magic Shacklebolt's desk. The man himself warily eyed the ivory box set before him. "This isn't supposed to be possible. We've kept records of all prophecies made in the British Isles since the founding of the Ministry itself. And before that the Seer Matrons kept track of such things centuries before even the Romans first brought wands to this land."

"Could it be a fake?" ventured Ron, trying to give some reassurance to his best friend and his only sister.

"No," said Shacklebolt. "That's not possible."

Ginny frowned. "Why?"

The Minister of Magic smiled at the bushy-haired girl. "Go ahead. Let's see if Hogwarts is doing its part in educating today's youth."

"Well," said Hermione, "the magic that goes into crafting an orb can't be faked; a cursory scan of this orb should prove its authenticity. Or at least that's what everything I've ever read has said. The Department of Mysteries is, well, like what it says on the tin."

"Very perceptive, Miss Granger," confirmed Shacklebolt. "The orb is very real, which is a big problem for all of us." He glared at the box. "Either some seer somewhere managed to dupe the Unspeakables – and I'd sooner believe Dementors were just misunderstood puppies – or this prophecy predates civilized magic in this country – equally unlikely."

"What about Merlin?" Everyone looked to Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived gestured to the box. "The inscription inside said it was from Merlin. Could he have made it?"

Hermione was uneasy with that idea. "A lot of things are attributed to Merlin that shouldn't be. Many myths and legends are tied to him because he's so famous and ancient. It's hard to separate the fact from the fiction with Merlin. The orb isn't faked, yes, but the note could easily be so."

"In other words," Ginny bristled, "we don't know anything about where the orb came from or who sent it. All we know is that it's real and that it may or may not concern Harry and me about a new prophecy of doom, death, and destruction. Fantastic." She glared at the looks of the other four people. "I thought it was over. I thought we were free."

Shacklebolt sighed. "So did I. The Unspeakables assured me that no prophecies remained that concerned any of you or your families." He opened the box, revealing the orb in question within. "The question is... what do we do with it?"

"We listen to it," said Harry.

"Harry," said Hermione, leaning forward, "listening to prophecy is exactly what set Voldemort on his path against you."

"But if we don't we could still stumble into whatever it is that Merlin or whoever was talking about! At least this way we'll be forewarned!" He slumped back in his seat. "Look, I don't like it either, but trying to shield the truth never ends well, even if you have the best of intentions."

Ron sighed. "He's right."

"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "What do you want, Ginny?"

"Just do it."

Shacklebolt asked, "Who wants the honor?"

No one volunteered.

"I thought so." The Minister of Magic drew his wand and pointed the tip at the orb. He sent a soft hex at it, shattering the ancient glass without scattering shards of it that could cut the people sitting at the table. Immediately a soft, smokey light curled up and swirled around over the Minster's desk. All five listened as words of ancient prophecy, possibly gifted to them by Merlin himself, were revealed to them:

Is this thing on? What? Hey, be careful around those potion bott—

(a sound of glass shattering)

DAMN IT, Arthur! Watching your bloody feet! Okay, we're starting over!

(a pause. when the man's voice comes back it is somber.)

As the Tower falls, only to rise again,

the road winds 'round and 'round,

twinned: two but one.

The shining star of his generation will guide you,

and his lady will set your course right.

For to each, a tale, and to each tale a teller,

or so I'll bet,

now bugger off because I'm bollocks at poetry.

The mist dissipated.

A minute or so later, Ron was the first to speak. "That was oddly reassuring."

"You have got to be kidding me," said the girl at Harry's side.

Hermione nodded. "That's exactly right, Ginny. Exactly right. It's a joke. That's the only possible explanation."

Shacklebolt leaned back in his plush leather desk chair. "You don't think it's authentic?"

"Absolutely not!" She looked to Harry and Ginny. "It's a prank, a cruel joke being played on you by someone who's clever."

"No one has ever falsified a prophecy orb before," cautioned the Minister of Magic. "Nor does anyone but a handful of Unspeakables have access to the spells the can authenticate an orb."

"Then start your investigation there!"

"I plan to," said the large dark-skinned man. He looked to the Boy Who Lived. "We'll take care of this hoax, Harry. You have my word."

"Thank you."

Despite the headache of the prophecy hoax, August flew by too quickly for Ginny. Harry's career with the Aurors took up most of his free time, especially when three days into his job a circle of Death Eaters was discovered in Manchester. The fallout from the firefight there chained her love to the Ministry for nearly a whole week. Ginny didn't think it was fair, even after Hermione explained that Harry was going all-out for the Aurors to prove to Shacklebolt that he was ready for the job despite his lack of official training. What little she saw of Harry was mostly spent around their friends and family, leaving almost no alone time for just the two of them.

Hermione, meanwhile, to Ginny's amazement, willingly spent about as little time with Ron, insisting that she needed to refresh her mind for the coming academic year. Ginny reluctantly agreed and the two young women met at the Burrow for regular study sessions. Even Luna Lovegood joined them, though her actual contribution to the group was more along the lines of comic relief.

At last September 1st came to pass and the two couples found themselves on Platform 9 3/4.

"I'll owl you every day," Hermione promised Ron.

"You stay safe," Ginny said, running a hand through Harry's messy hair. "Because if you get hurt hunting Death Eaters I'm going to kill them, then you."

"I'm glad you have your priorities straight." He smiled; his eyes warm with emotion. "Two weekends and I can visit. We can go flying and have a picnic." He glanced aside at his two friends and then back at Ginny. "Just the two of us."

Ginny kissed him goodbye.

Luna sniffed the old butterbeer bottle cap she had found deep in her robe's left-hand pocket. Casually, she asked "How do you think our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will go evil this year? Their falls are ever so varied."

"Luna," said Hermione, "they don't all go evil. I mean, Professor Lupin wasn't evil. He was just a werewolf. And Professor Lockhart was-"

"-a pompous twit," finished Ginny.

Luna cocked her head to the side, as if listening to some distant music, and stared at the two Gryffindors. Without looking back she began to scrape the bottle cap's metal edge along the bottom of the compartment's window. "Oh yes, I know. Father always tells me how werewolves are just our friends with teeth and a taste for us but it sometimes slips my mind. Please forgive my unpardonable rudeness." She hummed happily for a few moments. "So do you think the new professor will try to murder us before or after Christmas?"

"After," said the Weasley girl.

"Ginny!" cried Hermione. "Honestly, we haven't even met him! Or her! You shouldn't judge someone before meeting them."

The redhead shrugged. "I'm just saying. I mean, every year I've been at Hogwarts I've had a new DADA teacher and about, oh, three of them were Death Eaters; not to mention the Bitch-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

"Oh, how she loved kittens!" said Luna. "Father says she'll die in prison."

Hermione ignored Luna Lovegood's cheerful humming. "Y-yes, but that doesn't mean the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be evil this year. Besides, everyone knows Voldemort cursed the position. Now that he's dead the chair will be safe."

"Yes, and I'm sure there are people lined up for the job just dying to test that theory." Ginny shifted in her seat. "Look, can we talk about something else?"

The rest of the train ride passed with inconsequential small talk.

Harry and Ron were walking back from their lunch break at a bar near the Ministry when they crossed paths with an old friend and his black eye.

"Neville!" cried Harry, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk. "What happened to you?"

"Hi, Harry. Hi, Ron." Their old classmate smiled weakly. "I almost got arrested today."

"What?!" they both yelled.

"Pulled my wand on this bloke. Almost hexed him into next week. But it was all just a misunderstanding."

Ron screwed up his face. "How his hexing a bloke 'just a mistake'?"

"He…" Neville stopped. "It's nothing, Ron, really. I was mistaken. I just saw him and thought he was someone else." Neville shook his head. "Never mind me, okay? I gotta run, but I'll tell you the whole sordid tale over a drink sometime. You two have a nice day."

He walked off.

Harry turned to Ron. "What do you suppose that was all about?"

"Neville Longbottom getting in a brawl," said the redhead. "What is the world coming to?"

Being Seventh Years, Ginny and Hermione were among the first to be seated in the Great Hall. The girls chatted with their fellow Gryffindors as the rest of the classes filed in. Ginny felt a touch of concern at how Hermione seemed withdrawn – was it because she felt left out among unfamiliar faces as Ron had feared, or was it due to all the memories in this hall? The other girl seemed to catch onto Ginny's attention and offered a smile to reassure her.

"Look!" someone shouted.

Everyone in the hall turned. Down the aisle walked Hagrid leading two neat lines of First Years, eleven year olds almost swallowed in black robes too big for them. Ginny felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia. Life was simpler then, she thought with a sigh.

Except it hadn't been simpler, not really. Her first year had been plagued by crushing loneliness and fear, not to mention the blackouts from her occasional possession by Tom Riddle's diary. At least now, as a young woman, she could fight back against the things in the dark. She also had Harry.

"They're very short," Hermione whispered in her ear.

Ginny nodded.

"Headmistress," gruffly announced Hagrid, enjoying his role. "Yer honored professors. Let the sorting begin!"

Every student in the Great Hall erupted in cheers. The clamor was louder than Ginny even remembered it being and she knew why. Joy. The war was over; no one need fear Voldemort's name. It was a new beginning. For the first time since she had parted with Harry and boarded the Hogwarts Express she felt that everything was really going to be alright after all. Ginny knew Hermione felt the same way. There were tears in the bushy-haired girl's eyes and she was clapping the hardest of them all.

The cheers died down as the Headmistress brought forward the Sorting Hat and placed it on three-legged stool positioned between the Faculty's Table and the four rows of the houses. Whisperers were shushed as everyone leaned forward to hear the Hat's yearly song. They were not disappointed.

A millennium or so I've been

Placed on heads and signing songs

No simple hat am I as I appear to be

For you see in me was placed a trust:

Seek out the brave and daring for Gryffindor!

Judge the just for humble Hufflepuff!

Measure the wise for sage Ravenclaw!

And seek sly smiles for crafty Slytherin!

Every year we go round and round

All of us walking on a road seen before

We go it alone but I say we do end as one

Or so this old patchwork hat humbly suggests

The truth is not for you or me to say

Only Merlin knows who could

So let us dilly-dally no more

For this old hat has gabbed too long

Come, children! I'm a kind hat, I am,

So sit and I'll sort you once more

Another rapturous cheer echoed through the Great Hall, even the faculty joined wholeheartedly this time. However, Ginny found her spirits dampened. Round and round, she thought glumly, that damned hoax again. Or not-hoax. She would owl Harry before she turned in for the night and let him know.

The Sorting proceeded as expected, with the First Years divided up into quarters for each of the Houses. Occasionally the Hat would make the odd comment but that wasn't unusual. As the unsorted First Years dwindled to a small handful Hermione leaned over and said, "Isn't it odd?"

"Huh?"

"Slytherin," said the clever girl, her brow furrowed even as her eyes gleaming brightly. "Is it just me or are they not getting too many of the 'Pure Bloods'?"

Ginny studied the Slytherin table as well as the other three Houses. "Hey," she said, "you're right. I know those kids. All the old families are spread out."

"The older students don't look too happy with the new blood," Hermione said sharply, the old insults still stinging inside.

"No. They don't. Poor kids, they're going to catch hell if someone doesn't watch out for them." She flicked her eyes back towards Hermione. The other girl caught her drift.

When the Sorting finished there was another round of applause, followed by Headmistress McGonagall rising to address the student body. "Attention!" she called, her strong voice rising over the lingering chatter among the excited First Years. "I will have your attention, please!"

The Great Hall gained a respectful quiet.

"Thank you." She smiled. "To our students new and old, I bid you welcome to another year at Hogwarts!"

There was clapping, though not as energetic as before. Even the First Years caught on that the spirit of renewal shouldn't overstay its welcome. It was time to get on with things and Ginny found herself glad about that feeling. If only Harry had come too, she thought with more than a twinge of sadness. He could be sitting next to me, holding my hand.

"Before we begin with our feast I have a few announcements to make.

"First Years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students. All manner of dangerous and deadly creatures live there and your death is assured if you enter. Any student found trying to enter the Forbidden Forest or making another student go into the Forest will be expelled from this institution.

"Gryffindors, Professor Hagrid will be taking over as the Head of your House. I trust you will treat him with same the care and utmost respect you showed me over the years."

Hagrid stood up to take a bow at the Faculty Table, nearly toppling over Professor Flitwick's high-chair in the process. The big man flushed under the shouts and cheers of his new charges.

"Now I would like to introduce our new Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors-"

Ginny and Hermione shared a look. Who's head's on the block this year?

"-however," dryly announced the Headmistress, "our newest faculty members seem to be running late." McGonagall crinkled her nose. "Again."

Students and faculty alike glanced around uncomfortably in the booming silence.

The elderly woman put on a heartfelt smile. "Finally, I would like to say how dear to you this new year at Hogwarts is to me. Our First Years will not fully appreciate this sentiment but I believe that the rest of us can agree that w-"

The Headmistress was interrupted by the calamitous opening of the Great Hall's main doors. As one the student body of Hogwarts turned and fixed their sights on the newcomer who confidently entered the chamber, unembarrassed at the scene he was causing.

The stranger was a boyish looking man with a sharp chin and short brown hair that seemed to rebel against the very notion of combing. The expression on his face was apologetic enough considering his rudeness but Ginny just knew that he was barely containing a grin. The professor – she presumed he was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – didn't walk so much as stride; his legs seemed too short for his boundless enthusiasm. The air around him was electric. Oddest of all were his clothes. He wore the black dress robe of a professor, but only casually. It flowed behind him, framing a Muggle suit he wore underneath – a brown number with pinstripes. One of those funny Muggle ties dangled loosely around his neck.

Ginny couldn't shake the feeling she'd seen this man someplace before.

"Professor Rowling," sniffed McGonagall in annoyance, "it's nice to see you at least know how to make a fashionable entrance."

"Sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I got lost on the way here! All the staircases kept changing on me!" The jaunty man twirled around as he approached the Faculty Table, craning his head to take in everyone and everything all over the Great Hall. "Blimey, this place is brilliant! It's even better than what I read about in the books!"

Hermione was aghast. "Impossible! It can't be him!"

"Who?"

"Ginny, that's Barty Crouch, Jr.!"

Harry Potter and the Orders of Merlin - Ch.02

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