Chapter Text
John rubs his cold hands together, trying to warm them up, fogging warm breath on them. It was no use, his hands were like ice. This was without a doubt the rainiest September he remembers. He runs his bruised knuckles through his hair, messing with the lazy curls he’s grown out. It’s been a long time since John’s been on this train. His senses are filled with the memories of his past trips.
A small, eleven-year-old boy who knew nothing of magic, thumbing through his textbooks with the excitement of a kid in a candy store. Or him and his friends on his second-year journey, laughing with each every-flavored-bean eaten, both the delicious and disgusting ones. He felt particularly fond of his third-year memories, just shy of turning fourteen. John was one of the oldest in his year with an October birthday, after all. But third year was full of excitement about Hogsmeade trips and girls. He snorts at the memory of his fourth-year travels, when William Hawthorne was dared by Elliot Ashford to go into the Slytherin car and set off a stink bomb, only for the poor second year to land a spot in detention before classes even began.
However, his fond reminiscing comes to an abrupt end when John’s memory comes to his fifth year. He clears his throat, and suppresses the heartache. That’s all he’s ever done about it all. It was easier than admitting anything happened.
John was nearly seventeen now. He’d have the trace lifted in just over a month, and then it was just getting through his sixth year at Hogwarts. With the trace removed, he realistically wouldn’t have to come back to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year, and he likely wouldn’t. He’ll miss out on taking any N.E.W.Ts, but that didn’t matter to John. Not really. Those assholes at the Ministry already took away his chance to take any O.W.Ls last year. John would be playing catch up this entire year, and he had no desire to. He didn’t care about a high profile job in the Wizarding World, that wasn’t important to him. Not when he’s muggle-born and will likely just work in the muggle world.
He wanted to be a musician, after all.
You really only need N.E.W.T scores to work for the Ministry of Magic, anyways. And John’s little issue last year has already prevented him from working in the Ministry. Not that he wanted to work for those uptight snot-mouths.
Regardless, John would struggle this year, and he knew it. He missed more than half of fifth year, and he had no doubt the professors were going to be even harder on him than usual after his absence. He didn’t even want to come back to Hogwarts, but his Aunt didn’t give him much of a choice.
“You chose to go when you were a boy, so it's up to you to stick it out. I won’t have my nephew living with no education. Magical or not.” Her stern voice replays in his head. Besides, John still had the trace on him, and would have been fined by the Ministry for not attending. John already had plenty of issues with the Ministry from last year, he didn’t want any more.
And he supposed he did like Hogwarts. He liked his friends, Elliot and Arthur. And he liked the girls. He liked Cynthia. He liked quidditch. He was a rather good chaser for the Gryffindor team before he got suspended. He was sure he’d have to try out again this year. That was really a shame, John was projected to be the captain of the team this year.
John also liked being there at the castle. It was safe and cozy and far away from his crazy family. Away from his absent father who wanted him but didn’t love him, and his dead mum who never wanted him but loved him. He liked magic, it gave him a real purpose in life when he was accepted into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
John was willing to try again this year, he wanted it to go well. He needed redemption.
But then John is starkly reminded of how he’s entirely alone in this train compartment, and they left platform nine and three-quarters nearly two hours ago, and still had a few hours to go before they arrived at the castle. No one wanted to sit with John. He couldn’t blame them. He could only imagine how the rumor mill ran when he left school last year.
He looks out the window at the raindrops running down the glass, the train passing by lush forests that were still deep with green from the summer. John stares at his reflection in the window. He wasn’t ugly, he didn’t think so. It was hard for John to look at himself these days, he barely recognized himself anymore. But he forces himself to memorize the peaks and valleys of his face any chance he can. It reminds him that he’s alive, he’s breathing. Reminds him that he hasn’t yet lost his mind. He’s got sandy almost auburn hair that curled up. He styled it like the teddy boys back home, in Liverpool. That’s who he spent his summer with: the rock and roll boys of the icy town. He’s got light brown eyes that barely work, he’s blind as a bat. He’s got a strong, aquiline nose… he didn’t look like a criminal, like a bad guy.
There’s a tap on the door, and it scares the daylights out of him. He turns to see who it is.
“Elliot, you git!” He smiles, going to slide the door open to greet his friend into the compartment with him.
“John Lennon back from the dead it would seem!” He hugs John without a second thought. John’s chest warms at that, he never thought he’d be welcomed back by anyone. “You look like you haven’t had a real meal in months.” Elliot sits across from John, crossing his ankle over his knee. Elliot was a sixth year Gryffindor with John, he’s got black curly hair, olive skin and a roman nose. But Elliot’s defining factor was that he dripped with more charisma than even John.
“I haven’t.” John poses it as a joke, but they both know. “I didn’t think anyone would want to sit here with me. Thought I was spoiled rotten with my own compartment finally.”
“Well when Cynthia Powell let me know you were coming back this year, I knew I had to ruin your luxury. It wouldn’t be a trip back to Hogwarts if I didn’t spend it with you, mate.” Elliot beams.
John’s stomach flutters, “Cyn? She’s talkin’ about me, then?” He asks with a smug smile.
Elliot nods. “Never stopped. She was worried sick about you while you were gone. Wanted to start a protest and everything. But no one really understood why you left.”
“Is she on the train now?” John wanted to see her immediately.
His friend chuckles, “Careful now, Lennon. She’s got a boyfriend now.” Elliot shakes his head. It cuts John like a dagger, worse than he wished.
John wouldn’t show any weakness, though. Not after everything. “Probably for the best, I’d just be corruptin’ her with my dark magic.” He laughs. Elliot snorts.
“So, you’ve got to tell me. Why did you leave, really?” He asks.
The air is sucked out of the room, John’s smile drops. “I didn’t leave, I was suspended.”
“Expelled.”
“Suspended.” John doubles down, even if it wasn’t true, it’s what the Ministry informed him to say. Expelled students don’t get welcomed back, but suspended students might “And besides, I can’t talk about it. Sworn to secrecy from the Minister of Magic herself.”
“You’ve met the Minister, then?” Elliot asks.
John nods, “Know her well, don’t I?”
“Wicked.” Elliot smiles, “Look, Johnny, I’m happy you’re back. With the Fairburn twins gone, our Quidditch team is gonna need you.”
“If they’ll take me back. Who’s the captain now that I’m a delinquent?
Elliot makes a cheeky gesture to himself with a smug grin, “Yours, truly.”
“No!” John shakes his head. “We’re doomed, then!”
“Oh, shut up!” Elliot scoffs, “I happen to be very qualified! Went to a Quidditch camp in Yorkshire this last July, learned a lot from how the Irish play. I tell you, one day the Irish are gonna win the World Cup.”
“Now that’s just wishful thinking.” John shakes his head. “Ireland would never.”
“You’re just jealous. But don’t be. We really missed you last year. We had to bring June Meadows up as a chaser after you left alongside the twins. She wasn’t bad, but only a third year and skinny as all get. Nearly died I reckon. She was an easy target for beaters.”
“Who won the Quidditch cup?” John asks.
Elliot sighs, “Slytherin. It wasn’t even close…” He shakes his head. “They’re wicked good. I hate to admit it but it’s the truth. They’ve got big heads, too. You know those Slytherins. Got a new seeker last year just before you left and he’s bloody talented. Better than Artie. But never tell him I said that. Christ John, we’ve missed you.”
John left just after the Quidditch season began last year, but Gryffindor had only formally played Ravenclaw and scrimmaged Hufflepuff, so he never saw Slytherin’s team. He was secretly relieved Elliot was the captain because it meant John had good chances of getting back on the team. But he had to admit Elliot was a strange choice for captain over Arthur (the smarter and older of the two), Elliot couldn’t even tie his shoes without magic. Those pure blood boys were a completely different type from John.
“What’s the new seekers name? For Slytherin?”
“Oh, he’s such an ass, John.” A third, unexpected voice enters the conversation. Arthur was standing in the doorway, beautiful as ever with his dark skin and warm eyes.
“Arthur Higgins, as I live and breathe.” John stands up.
“John Winston Lennon, you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” They hug as brothers would. Arthur and his American accent were sorely missed. Artie moved from America in his second year (John and Elliot’s first year) to attend Hogwarts. The United States aren’t as keen about black students yet, even in the wizarding world. It was only 1957, after all.
“What took you two so long to finally join me here.” John asks point blank.
Arthur sighs, “I hate to admit it, John, but everyone’s nervous about you now.’
“Even you git’s?”
“Never.” Elliot shakes his head and Artie sits next to John. “But we’ve got eyes on us from all around. Students can’t decide if they fear or respect you.”
“They should come talk to me themselves to find out.” John rolls his eyes. “Absolute bollocks if you ask me.”
“Well, we’re happy you’re back. All Gryffindor house is, I think.”
“Even Cynthia?” John asks.
Artie nods, “ Especially Cynthia. But she can’t admit it. Not now that she’s dating Dorian Pritchard.”
“ Dorian Pritchard? ” John’s jaw dropped. “From Ravenclaw? That nasty tattletale?” He shakes his head. John and Cynthia never formally dated. They only fancied one another from afar, wishing they could be together. Cynthia was kind to John. She always stood up for him. He finally kissed her after the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw last year. But soon after, John was sent away.
“Dorian is Headboy this year. And Cynthia is Gryffindor’s Prefect.” Artie explains.
“Oh, that’s bollocks.” John shakes his head. His bad-boy persona is what got Cynthia into him in the first place, at least that’s what he told himself. But if she was a prefect, they would never be together.
“Hey, opposites attract, you could be with her still.” Said Elliot dimly. “And either way, Dorian is in his seventh year. He’ll take his N.E.W.Ts, get a good score, work for the Ministry and be out of your hair next year. Then you can have Cyn all to yourself.”
John supposed his friend was right, but didn’t dare admit it. “Prefect… Cynthia.” He says quietly. “What other changes have there been?”
“Professor Haddock is gone, went back to Scotland for retirement. Not sure who’ll take his position yet.” Elliot says.
“There’s a new transfiguration teacher, she came last December. Just after you left. Professor McGonnagall. She’s real nice, her classes aren’t too hard.” Artie explains. “She’s young, too. Only a few years older than us.”
“Is she a looker?” John teases. The others laugh.
“Giant eyes. Looks like a bug sometimes.” Elliot jokes back.
“Oh! Syltherin won the house cup along with the Quidditch Cup.” Arthur says.
Elliot nods, “We all know that competition is rigged.”
“Elliot was telling me about the Quidditch Cup.” John informed Artie. “Where did Gryffindor place?”
“Dead. Last.” Arthur shakes his head. “Awful.”
“But we beat Ravenclaw before I left!” John whines.
“Yes, but Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff with a wider margin than we did. Two hundred points more. Hufflepuff beat us, but it was close. If June hadn’t taken that bludger to the face I think we would have won, barely.” Arthur shakes his head, as if he was still coping with that loss today.
“And Slytherin beat us 150-nil.” Elliot sighs. “It was the worst game of the year.”
“My worst job as a seeker yet.” Arthur was embarrassed to say. “The weather conditions were perfect, crisp spring day, just after Easter. But I let my guard down, and Slytherin took the snitch before anyone could score.” Arthur explained it like it was a war flashback. “I thought I’d be kicked off the team, surely.”
“I’ve heard so much about this Slytherin seeker. What’s so special about him?” John folds his arm over his chest.
“He’s this nasty boy. He’s got everything.” Elliot shakes his head in disdain, “Slytherin prefect, captain of the Slytherin team this year, President of the Dueling Club, teachers aid for Professor Whittaker-
“-Comes from a snobbish, pure-blood family. Dad works for the ministry.” Arthur adds.
“He’s in his sixth year, too, but you wouldn’t guess it by his looks. He looks like a bird.” Elliot laughs.
“He’s always sticking his nose in your business. Hangs out with only Slytherins and Ravenclaws like he’s some pompous prince from London.” Gryffindors always took classes with the Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins always took classes with the Ravenclaws. Truthfully, John didn’t know many Slytherins, nor did he care to. Elliot continues, “He took his O.W.Ls early last year and got outstanding marks on every subject I heard.” Elliot frowns. “Can’t stand the lad.”
“And his name?” John asks.
“Paul McCartney.”
John eats more than he should have at the feast, and he leaves the Great Hall to the Gryffindor dormitories feeling full and sleepy for the first time in a long time. The rain never let up through the sorting ceremony, and John sat on the opposite end of the table from the sorting hat, down by the other sixth years. But even he felt isolated among the other Gryffindors at the table. If he wasn’t an outcast before last year, he certainly was now.
He knew if he could get back on the Quidditch team, everything would sort itself out. It would have to. Being on your house team was a one-way ticket to popularity. John never really cared about popularity, but he certainly didn’t want to be a complete reject.
He tried taking a peek at the Slytherin table for this ‘McCartney’ who apparently runs the school on his way out of the Great Hall, but can’t really see any boys who look like birds, and definitely doesn’t want to get caught staring.
The halls of Hogwarts were littered with history, paintings on every wall, tapestry’s lining doors, stained glass windows telling stories. It was beautiful, and so different from anything in Liverpool. John forgot how much he missed those things about Hogwarts. He had forgotten that this was a place of total safety and warmth.
John had spent so much time completely shunned from anything warm and safe while he was in cahoots with the Ministry. He’d lost sight of how special Hogwarts really was. He suppressed any feeling too wistful, though. He had to protect his heart better this year; had to protect himself.
Truthfully, he was lucky to have even been accepted back into Hogwarts at all.
He finds himself in Gryffindor tower, and must have entirely forgotten about the fat lady and her passwords, because he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Cynthia Powell standing outside of the portrait, teaching the new password to all the students. Obviously, that was her job as a prefect. John just wasn’t ready to see her again, not yet. After all, Cyn was the last person he saw at Hogwarts before being taken away by the Aurors.
She’s so beautiful; Icy, blonde hair that’s neatly tied in a ponytail with a scarlet red ribbon and sweet bangs that frame her face. She’s got the prettiest Grecian nose and big eyes, she looks so cute in her uniform. John gets overwhelmingly sheepish all at once, and is tempted to completely turn back and find someplace else to sleep for tonight.
He remembers the silly song the sorting hat came up with this year: something about Gryffindors being brave even in the most mundane of situations. Some Gryffindor he is: not even able to face a girl he used to like. He clears his throat and finishes the walk to the portrait with a puffed-out chest.
“John!” Cynthia’s face lights up as soon as she sees him, running to him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He wasn’t expecting this reaction, he almost thought she would resent him. Although, this was greatly appreciated, and he finds himself hugging her back. “I’m so happy you’ve returned!” She beams, pulling away from him to speak so their faces are just inches apart. The air goes still and John accidently looks down at Cynthia’s lips.
She pulls away from him, clearing throat and brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s wonderful you’re here.” She says with a bit more decorum.
John smiles, “It’s lovely to see you, Cynthia.” He says, wishing he could grab her face and kiss her deep. “ Prefect Cynthia.” He hums.
She taps her manicured nail to her prefect badge on her robes, beaming. “If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”
John doubted she really meant anything at all. If it was his way, he’d have Cynthia as his girlfriend before the week was even over. “Well, let's start with the password.”
“ Adimpleo .” Cynthia says sweetly and John repeats it. The portrait opens up to the hole to the Gryffindor Common room. “Really John, I’m happy to see you. Hogwarts wasn’t the same without you.” She takes his wrist as he walks past her.
“Thanks Cyn. I wonder if Dorian feels the same way.” He says with a twinge of animosity in his tone and walks through the whole. John knows he shouldn’t be that way, especially not to Cynthia of all people. But he’s always been like that. Always putting up walls when he feels singled out.
John enters the common room, and where soft laughter and the hum of conversation once was, silence was replaced. Every head turns to look at him, every voice goes quiet.
He feels instantly placed on display, under an interrogation light. Exactly what he was afraid of. He looks at the other students, and gestures to himself cockily.
“Here I am.” He rolls his eyes and drops his arms. “If you have any questions, feel free to set up an appointment.” He starts to move through the room towards the sixth-year dormitories. Heads watch him as he cuts across the floor, and still, no one will say a word. John turns around just before going out of the room and adds, “And for the record, Azkaban isn’t as bad as you all think it is, I’ll give the Dementors your regards.” And then disappears into the other room.
The first day of classes started out smoothly. He has Charms first thing in the morning with the Hufflepuffs, and then Divination before lunch with just the other Gryffindors. Thankfully, Elliot treated John like a normal human, along with the other Professors. But unfortunately, Arthur was in seventh year classes, so John would just have to rely on Elliot. Luckily, Cynthia was in Charms with them, but is taking advanced divination with the seventh-years.
Just as John feared, he was behind. Everyone knew fifth year Charms was the most important year for charms. It was where students finally started learning practical charms, such as summoning charms, mending charms and the disillusionment charm (one John has been looking forward to since he first heard of it). But now, John was entering his sixth year with the knowledge of a fourth year, and not a very hard working fourth year at that. This put him at a huge disadvantage.
Professor Flint in charms gave John an extra workbook to try and catch him up, one usually reserved for the slower or handicapped students. John stuffed the blue folder in his bag in the hopes no one saw him get it. “Tuesday afternoons are free for students to come in for one-on-one instruction, Mr. Lennon.” She tells him. “What’s your schedule like?”
“Quidditch practices Tuesday afternoons.” John responds.
“Have you made the Gryffindor team this year?” Professor Flint asks with a raised eyebrow.
John shakes his head, “I was on the team last year, but I’ll have to try out again this year because of…” he trails off.
“I understand.” Professor Flint nodded. “When are try-outs?”
“Week four.” John says.
“Well, Mr. Lennon. It would be wise for you to prioritize your education this year. A Hogwarts student’s fifth year is one of their most important, especially for my class. You’ll have a lot to catch up on, including taking your O.W.Ls this year. If you want a stable job after Hogwarts, I suggest you take advantage of your free time.” She describes, as if John didn’t already know that.
He just nods, “I understand, Professor. Thank you.” And leaves the conversation, not caring to discuss anymore.
After lunch is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Another class John would be far behind in. In the sixth-year, unforgivable curses were finally taught, and specifically how to survive them. And Dementors are taught. John needed this class. He felt like he would be alright, though, because over the last year he’s experienced more dark magic than anyone else in his year. He knew that.
He and Elliot enter the classroom, Professor Whittaker was at the board, scribbling out something. The class was already rather full, to John’s surprise.
“I guess we’ll sit in the back.” Elliot mutters to John and heads to one of the last open tables.
“Large class.” John points out and goes to sit next to Elliot, “Why?”
“Come in!” Professor Whittaker, a middle-aged and handsome man with salt and pepper hair called out in his confident voice. A few more students file in, and he closes the door with a swish of his wand. John looks back at the students by the door to see three girls wearing green robes.
“Slytherin’s in here with us?” John asks Elliot who turns back to look at the girls.
He laughs sarcastically, “Lovely.”
“Perfect, we’ll have to learn about the unforgivables with these fools.” One of the girls whispers behind John. He turns around and gives her a glare. She shrugs and sits across the aisle from him, her posse following.
“Professor.” A Gryffindor girl towards the front raises her hand, “I thought sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were taken by individual houses.”
“Is there a question somewhere in there, Miss Foster?” Professor Whittaker smiles. He wasn't teasing her, he was warm, once a Gryffindor, and the object of many schoolgirls fantasies.
“Well, why are we taking it with another house, then?”
“Yes. I knew you’d all be curious.” He began, addressing the full class, “This year, houses will be combined.” Whittaker holds for dramatic effect, which he gains to his amusement.
He continues, “The reason for this, you may ask? I want you students to learn how one another thinks. I want you to expect the unexpected. Part of my job is to teach older Hogwarts students how to defend against not just dark magic, but dark wizards themselves. They do exist, my friends.” John feels eyes on him, he’s not sure who’s eyes, but he knows there are students looking at him. “Therefore, you all need to understand the psychology of other wizards. There is no better of doing that than a bit of fair and fun inter-house mingling, no?”
You could hear a pin drop in the room.
“I know the rivalry between Gryffindor house and Slytherin house goes back centuries, to even the founding of this school with Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin themselves.” Professor Whittaker paces, “All the more reason for these two houses to interact. You all have decided you dislike one another from nothing more than just the colors on your clothes. But I think you will all find that these two houses are far more alike than they are different.”
“That’s rubbish!” Another female voice cries out from a group of Slytherin’s at a table. There are a few hums of agreement from both houses at her remark.
Professor Whittaker smiles, “Perhaps.” He turns around, bringing the chalkboard closer to the desks, “I want you students to learn to think like one another. I want you all to be able to think two steps ahead of the person sitting next to you. It very well could save your life one day; being able to anticipate a wizard’s next move. It is for that reason I have made this:” He gestures to the board. “A seating chart.”
The entire class cries out in disdain. John and Elliot especially. They’ve sat next to one another in every single class since first year. That wasn’t going to stop now.
“Every Gryffindor will be placed next to a Slytherin.” Even more groans from the sixth-years, “I want you all to be cordial to one another. Try to make friends.” He beckons for students to come see their seating arrangements. He continues talking as students from both houses approach the board to see their death sentence. “Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sixth-years are going through the same thing. Your seat partner will also be your partner for homework, workshops and projects surrounding counter-spells, and resistance practice.”
John and Elliot make their way up to the board with heavy feet. “This is bollocks.” Elliot whispers to John. John glances at Cynthia who was now sitting next to a blonde Slytherin boy a few rows from the back. His name was Graham, he was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. She was already making polite conversation with him. She made everything look easy. Maybe if John was lucky, he’d be paired with a pretty Slytherin girl he could at least snog during steady sessions.
Professor Whittaker examines the Gryffindors and Slytherins while they start finding their permanent seats, “I am not going to go easy on you this year. I never have for sixth-years, nor do I intend to. This is the year where Defense Against the Dark Arts gets real. You are all adults, many of you will turn seventeen within the year and lose the trace, and will be treated as such now. These seats will not change throughout the term. There will be homework projects to be done outside of class.” John groaned, they were getting closer and closer to the board. “Start figuring out your partner, and try to throw them off your scent. Be clever, that should be easy for all you Slytherins.”
Because John and Elliot were at the back of the class, they were the last ones to see their seating assignments, and the last ones to be standing. Elliot looks for his name on the board, and sees he’s sitting about five rows back next to a Slytherin girl named Maggie Winters, the same girl who came in late with her posse. Elliot goes back to her, leaving John alone at the front of the class with Professor Whittaker with a wistful frown.
“One seat left, Mr. Lennon.” Professor Whittaker says.
John finds his name on the board. Front row. The name written next to John’s is none other than Paul McCartney. The Slytherin-seeker-team captain-pure-blood-prefect-dueling president-Whittaker’s aid.
John turns around to see the seat directly behind him open, and the boy sitting next to it.
Paul had a cold look on his pale face. His hair was jet black and his eyes were impossibly round. He had his arms folded over his chest, his silver prefect badge freshly polished. His sloped-nose was upturned as he looked John up and down.
“Have a seat, Mr. Lennon.” Whittaker held his hand out for John to take his seat. Every eye was on him as he sat down next to Hogwarts’s golden boy.
Paul didn’t say a word to John. Didn’t even look at him after he sat down.
“Lovely.” Whittaker smiles, looking out at the mess he’s just created. “Everyone take a few minutes and introduce yourself to your partner.”
Paul won’t speak up. So, neither does John. They both stay entirely silent, but do eventually look at one another. John clears his throat. Paul picks at his fingernails.
The recently-expelled delinquent, and Hogwarts’s darling wonder boy. What a term this would be.