Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else that J.K. Rowling or Warner Brothers or what not else had done. I simply made up my own plot for this story. :) My apologies to the author if I mess this up!!



Chapter 1

1 First Day



A searing, red-hot pain flashed through Harry's scar, a pain he had never before felt. It had been a similar pain before, but now it was absolutely awful. His eyes flew open, the simple bedroom of his coming into view, the ratty white sheets fluttered off of him as he sat up.

Harry's fingers skimmed the scar on his forehead, the ridge of it bumpy and then smooth, like the engraved notes on the desks of students in Potions class. He sighed. The pain was gone, as quick as it had come.

The problem with his scar's burning pain was not that it hurt - frankly, it hurt for a very short time. But the time that it did hurt was unbearable. His eyes widened as he realized what the burning sensation could have meant.

Was Voldemort preparing to attack again? Was some other great evil taking place? Had Dudley hummed in his sleep, the most painful sound and feeling of all?

Harry smiled to himself. Any minute now, Dudley would thunder down the steps, dust showering Harry from the dry, crusty ceiling. Dudley practically rattled the house when he walked.

The bleak rays of light of the rising sun had already created patches of light on his plain bedspread.

" Dudleykins?" Aunt Petunia shouted sweetly from the kitchen.

So I'm the last awake again, Harry thought. He stood up, stretching, and his hand brushed the shelf hanging over his bed. Harry took a glance at it from the corner of his eye. On it was a row of birthday gifts, all of them almost on time, just a day or two early. They were: a book from Hermione, something about Quidditch; a carved figurine of Harry himself on his Firebolt, trying to catch the Snitch, from Hagrid (who had recently acquired a nice sculpting and carving talent); and a few pictures from Ron. The pictures were the best - Ron and Hermione had gone to the beach, and they were mostly of Hermione in her pretty sundress, going down to her knees and fluttering awkwardly.

Harry took his favorite photo off the shelf and looked at it, marveling: one of Hermione alone, sitting on the wet sand, the foam soaking the hem of her dress, a sweet smile on her face. In the picture, she was slowly turning to look at the camera, and Harry imagined her looking right at him. Hermione then smiled, and Harry felt his heart flutter.

" Harry! You scum-wad! Get in here!" Uncle Vernon shouted angrily. Harry could already imagine the look on his uncle's face - his cheeks puffed out, his whole face red and blotchy, his nose wrinkled angrily.

" Coming!" Harry shouted back.

" Don't shout in this household!" Aunt Petunia roared. Harry rolled his eyes and placed the picture of Hermione back on the shelf, tucked gently along with the others. An image of Ron waved to him, his mouth moving in some cheery words. Mrs. Weasley laughed in the background.

Harry burst out of his room, the door slamming back into the wall, a few chips of wallpaper fluttering to the ground. Harry felt a stringing of guilt in his stomach, then shrugged. He could say it was Dudley, and then Petunia and Uncle Vernon would probably thank him for scarring the wall. That's the sort of sickening parents they were.

Once Harry was in the kitchen, the sight of Dudley inhaling a donut made his insides squeeze. " Save some for the world, Dud." Harry muttered under his breath. He had begun to call Dudley just Dud, a short and simple name that showed what he was - a blatant, annoying reject that wasn't accepted by his peers.

" Pardon?" Dudley looked up, ready to see who spoke to him, and seeing Harry, he looked down again, saying: " So you're finally here! Make something for breakfast! I'm starving!"

" I'm sure you are." Harry muttered, and then began to make a batter for pancakes.

Uncle Vernon's red face turned towards Harry, and he barked out: " Make more batter! Lately you've been so scant to our dear Dudley!"

" Scant?" Harry exclaimed. " He gobbled down ten pancakes yesterday, along with half a bottle of maple sugar. You call that scant?"

" Don't talk back to me, boy!" Uncle Vernon's brow crinkled.

" Gee, sorry." Harry poured a round shape into the pan, which Aunt Petunia had been kind enough to already circle with cooking oil - about a centimeter of it from the base of the pan, which was enough to fry a bucket of French fries, let alone a few pancakes.

" There you go again, shooting your mouth off! Why can't you be more like our precious young boy?" Aunt Petunia snapped, her hand wrapping around the porky boy's shoulders, giving him a light squeeze.

If I were, half of the third world countries would starve with the food amounts we'd be eating, Harry thought.

" Where did he learn to be such a smart-mouthed, back-talking brat?" Uncle Vernon asked Aunt Petunia. " I'd give my right hand that it was that. that freak school of his!"

" Hogwarts?" Dudley said, spitting crumbs on all the objects near him, including his mother's hand.

" Never, never mention that ghastly - - PLACE - - again!" Aunt Petunia gasped out. " Dudleykins, my dearest baby, it is a cursed place! The word shouldn't even mark your mind!"

" I wish our poor Dudley's childhood hadn't been so devastated by Harry. It's all your awful sister's fault! You should have driven her off to the loony bin before she brought shame into our family by passing on her crazy son!" Uncle Vernon yelled out, taking a bite of a pastry between words.

Harry bit his tongue, tears coming into his eyes. If there was one thing Harry hated most of the Dursleys, it was their horrid insults to his mother and father.

" Harry! Are you anywhere near done?" Dudley hissed out, his cheeks sucking into his face and then releasing as he took an angry bite of the third donut in the box before him.

" Almost." Harry said, quietly, and then plopped four pancakes onto a plate from the pan. They were completely soaked in fat.

Oh, how disgusting, thought Harry.

" Pass it here, boy! Dudley isn't going to starve because you're so slow around here!" Aunt Petunia said, not even facing Harry.

Harry nodded and brought the plate over, dropping it in front of Dudley. The fat cousin of his looked up and smiled, baring his white teeth, despite all the disgusting grime he ate all the time. "Ah, finally!" Dudley grabbed his fork and ate as fast as he could.

" Enjoy." Harry whispered, and then went to fry up the next batch.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Twenty-three pancakes later, Harry went up to his room again, not even hoping to have a share of the breakfast. Instead, he took an apple from the metal bowl on the living room table, and crunching sadly, he went to sit on his bed.

He took the pictures into his hands again.

Now he observed the one with Ron in it. Ron's wild red hair had been blown by the wind into his eyes, and he squinted. Then, his lips formed the exact words that Harry knew he must have said, just by reading his lips: " Hermione looks pretty, eh, Harry? He, he!"

" She sure does!" Harry whispered to the picture, and then peered into the background of the picture. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were discussing something very actively, and both were shaking their red heads. And then Hermione approached them, and began to say something. Ron's head moved out of the way, and he broke into a smile and winked at the camera.

Fred and George had taken the pictures, and Harry was grateful. Ron had convinced them that Hermione was the one that wanted plenty of pictures of her taken, when it was really Harry who demanded it.

Ron was the only person that Harry had told about how he liked Hermione more then a friend. Suddenly, the door burst open and Aunt Petunia barged in the room, throwing a letter at Harry's feet. " A letter, Harry. Seems your friends forgot how we no longer want the mail - - with the owls - - brought anywhere near us. They're to go directly to your room, through your window! Got it?"

" Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry took the letter and then opened it. It was from Hermione! His heart dropped and then clanged hard inside of him as he pulled the letter out and read:

" Dear Harry,

How was your summer? I'm sure the Dursleys were no fun at all!

It would be exquisite if you could bring with you, to Hogwarts, the

book I bought for you for your birthday. Had you started reading

it yet?

Harry hadn't started reading it yet at all!

I'm sure you'll agree with me that the protagonist is very well- done,

though his motif in the beginning isn't quite lucid. In the end it all

makes sense, don't give up reading it yet!

My owl's been so bored lately. I bought a new one, did you

hear? It's white, just like yours, and I named it Sunny. I suppose it

isn't very creative, but just wait until you see how lively it is! I bet it

didn't even wait at your house! It probably flew straight back and I

should expect it soon.

I had sent three letters already.

Harry paused reading again. " Three?" He said to himself, then looked up to see if Aunt Petunia was standing there. She had gone. Harry looked back onto the letter and thought, How come I didn't get the other letters?

You probably didn't get your other letters, though, since little

Sunny had returned to me with them a few nights ago! I was

furious. The letters were in tatters. Somehow Sunny isn't the best

owl I could have acquired for myself!

I asked Ron if he gave you some photos from our trip to the

beach with his family. Ron looked so strange, almost defensive,

and said he hadn't. So I'm sending along a picture, and I hope

you don't get angry with Ron. He had been pretty strange lately,

and he and his brothers wouldn't stop clicking away on their

camera, and your name kept coming up.

" Oh, man." Harry murmured. Ron must have told his brothers about Harry's crush on Hermione.

Well, I should be off, this is pretty long anyway!

With love,

Hermione

With love, Harry ran the words over in his mind, and then neatly folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. He pulled out the photo from the envelope and took a good look at it. It was taken a bit later then the ones Ron had sent over, and it seemed just a touch personal. Hermione was sitting under a sunset, and the camera was aiming at her back. Suddenly, she turned, and a great big smile crossed her face. Her hand shot up and waved to the camera.

Harry lifted his own hand, giving a half wave, imagining that he was there. Then, he wondered if Hermione still had such soft, brown hair. She had gotten highlights; Harry could see them vividly among her darker curls.

" Harry!" A shrill voice called from down the hall.

" What is it, Aunt Petunia?" Harry sat up again. His 'family' never gave him any peace.

" Come in here and clean up. Dudleykins accidentally spilled a whole cola bottle on the white carpet. Hurry up before it stains!" The last words came out in an angry blast.

" Yes, Auntie." Harry bolted from the room and raced down the stairs, his feet thumping a bit harder then normal, for he was already becoming hot with anger.

Dudley had most likely spilled the cola on purpose, just so Harry would clean up.

Harry snatched a sponge and a towel from the kitchen and then raced back upstairs. He finally went into Dudley's room and saw the slowly spreading cola spill. Dudley stood over the liquid-brown mess and smiled.

" Well, Potter? Clean it up!"

Harry felt his ears burn with anger as he mopped up the cola, his fingers getting sticky from it. Harry then went to the bathroom, holding the sponge at a slight distance from his body, then wrung it out into the sink.

Once he returned, he noticed the cola spill had grown larger instead of smaller. Dudley put on a devilish and yet 'I-didn't-do-it' face.

" Dudley." Harry said, quietly.

" What? You can't prove it! No! I'm telling Aunt Petunia! You can't prove it!" Dudley squealed nervously, and then rushed down the steps, saying: " Mom! Mom! Harry is blaming me for the cola spill!"

" No I'm not!" Harry shouted.

" Harry! How dare you lie!" Aunt Petunia yelled out. " Finish cleaning up and go to your room! No food for the rest of the day for being such a cold, twisted boy!"

" Really, Petunia, my pet, he is dreadful! Simply dreadful!" Uncle Vernon said, loudly enough so Harry could hear over his own quiet crying.

That night, Harry had taken a long time to get to bed. He washed his teeth four times in the bathroom, stalling so that Dudley wouldn't have the satisfaction of getting to the bathroom at his leisure. Dudley hated waiting for the bathroom, so it especially pleased Harry to know that he could use this time to make Dudley somewhat pay for his evilness.

Harry finally worried that he'll wash off his teeth if he continued scrubbing and re-brushing them anymore, so he took his comb (an old, chip- toothed, black comb with bits of hair stuck in it), and ran it through his hair. He tried desperately to make it look somewhat attractive, but his hair was about as tamable as a wild stallion. Finally, Harry gave that up too.

" Harry!" Dudley pounded on the door. " What's taking so long?"

" Hold your horses!" Harry shouted back, and then slicked his hair back with water. It seemed to hold, and he smiled with satisfaction. Then, he noticed how having his forehead bared made his eyes look a bit huge, and the scar on his forehead exaggerated. He didn't need people staring at him at Hogwarts anymore then they did now!

So, Harry began to push his bangs back down, when they suddenly sprang back magically anyway. It wasn't like he was unused to it. His hair drove him crazy at times.

With a sigh, Harry washed his hands again. Dudley was still pacing the hallway, his steps growing more and more taught as the wait prolonged. " Harry! I really need to go!"

" Harry Potter, will you get out of our washroom before I come up there and pull you out!" Uncle Vernon hollered.

Harry realized he'd stretched his trick too far and quickly got out of the bathroom. Before he even got the chance to step out into the hallway properly, Dudley had pushed him aside and face-first into the wall and then slammed the door behind him as he took over the washroom.

The sound of the shower followed. Dudley, if one thing, was obsessed with showering. He liked smelling clean and nice, which was normal, but not when one showers three times daily. It was especially annoying for Harry since he'd be left to mop up the buckets of suds and water on the floor afterwards.

Once in the comfort of his room, Harry removed his glasses and then tried to fall asleep. His bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one in Hogwarts. Oh, how he missed Hogwarts! School was the only fun thing that happened to him these days.

Just then, his owl, Hedgwig, made a low hooting sound. Harry smiled at the bird in the cage and said: " You know, Hedgwig, I think I'll send you off on a little mail errand."

The bird in the cage clattered the iron bars happily.

Harry pulled out a paper and a ballpoint pen and began to write a letter to Hermione, the Muggle way.



Dear Hermione,

I'm writing once again because I have

absolutely nothing to occupy myself with. My home is a

disaster - if I can even call it home. Dudley is a

complete pig, Aunt Petunia is forcing me to clean up

every mess Dudley makes (believe me, there's a lot of

them), and Uncle Vernon seems to be a total slob and

pig and cruel being rolled into one lard ball. I hate to

be mean but they simply torture me!

Your owl, Sunny, hadn't given me any letters

at all other then the one you sent last. I think you

certainly need to train it out a bit more before trusting

it on such long-distance mail services.

I cannot wait until I can see you and Ron at

Hogwarts. Only a few weeks. only a very few

weeks! I don't think it would be wise to anger my

uncle and aunt with a reply using Sunny - last time,

Sunny dropped in right on Aunt Petunia, and she

certainly didn't like it.

There's so much I want to say, but so little

words to put it in.



Harry paused. It most certainly was true, he wanted to say so many things to her, but there was no way that he'd be able to bring up the courage to.

He opened his owl's cage, and the snow-white bird leapt out onto his bedspread, her talons picking strings out of the woven coverlet on his bed.



Hedgwig is anxious to see you again, she's

simply pacing the room. I hope you had a great

summer, and I'll see you soon!

With love right back,



Harry felt a strange beating in his heart again. He loved writing that word. Love, love, love, and love again! Harry smiled and then signed the letter and handed it to Hedgwig. The owl hooted happily and flew out his open window. Once the owl was only a white slash in the sky, the black night sky a beautiful background for its snowy wings, Harry closed his window and pulled the curtains shut. It was going to be a lonely night without the soft hoot of his owl in its cage.

That night, a dream haunted Harry, a horrible one. He was lying flat on his stomach, his nose scratched and itching in the dirt, his fingers digging into clumps of earth, his eyes scanning wildly around him.

In his dream, he couldn't get up, not even try to get up. Blood sauntered from an open wound somewhere, scaring Harry out of his wits. Where was he hurt? What was going on?

Then, Harry looked up at a dark shape in front of him, cloaked in a dark blue robe with golden fringes, two red eyes glowing like embers beneath the dark folds of his collar.

They were Voldemort's eyes, and cold vicious ones in that. Harry tried to tear up from the ground, but a pain shot through him. Was he under a spell? Why couldn't he move?

Voldemort walked closer to him, until Harry could feel the fabric of the dark blue robes tickling his cheeks. Harry's eyes were inches from two black boots, golden buttons holding the tongue of the shoe behind a series of intricately laced ties. Harry gasped and tried to pull back, to move away from the sneering and frightening face of Voldemort.

Then, Voldemort spoke, barely coherently: " Potter."

" What do you want?" Harry said, trying to swallow back fear. It was only a dream, after all. A frightening one, but only a dream. It had always been Harry's gift - he had begun to be able to know his dreams from reality as he slept. It helped ease his fear while having a nightmare.

This was a nightmare, one of the worst, in fact. Harry struggled to keep from screaming out as Voldemort took another step towards him, the black shoes now about three centimeters from his brow.

Then, the towering blackened shape bent over, the pale fingers slithering out to touch Harry's forehead - his scar. The familiar burning pain soared through Harry's body, and he heard in the distance a scream sounding familiarly alike to Hermione's voice: "Harry! Harry, no!"

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Harry's eyes shot open and he found himself lying on the floor of his bed, clutching his scar. Another night of waking up with a burning in his scar. Something was wrong, but what?

Shaking his head, Harry stood from bed and looked out the window. Today was his birthday, a day in which he intended to be happy, to avoid fighting with the Dursleys any more then he could stand.

The kitchen was taught with the aroma of cinnamon candles. Harry held his nose and asked Aunt Petunia: " Is there a funeral or something?"

Aunt Petunia shot him an angry look and shrieked: " Don't speak of death to me! You can't threaten me!"

" Petunia, sweets, get that lout to make some breakfast, will you?" Uncle Vernon called from the living room, trying to speak over the loud booming sound of the football game on the television.

" You hear that, Harry? Make breakfast." Aunt Petunia pushed him towards the stove in the corner of the room and then handed Harry a pan in which to make the food.

Harry smiled as Aunt Petunia left the room. He liked having the kitchen to himself as he cooked. It made him feel happier, knowing that the Dursleys won't be there, complaining about the way the food smelled or how he should add more onions to the salad.

" Dad! I'm hungry!" Dudley said the words he was known for in Harry's mind.

" Harry's on to it. Aren't you, boy!" Uncle Vernon hollered.

" Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry replied, with a stupid smile. It's my birthday. Harry thought. I will not lose my head today. It'll be fun!

Fun like a root canal.

The crackling of bacon on the well-oiled pan distracted Harry from his thoughts. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a bowl and a wooden mixing spoon from one of the cabinets and then proceeded in making some crepes - the French delicacy that he picked up from Hermione. Hermione was always glad to swap Muggle recipes, saying that cooking the Muggle way was absolutely great fun.

Harry didn't quite agree on that, for he did it too much to enjoy it anymore. The batter for the crepes took a while longer then he suspected, but soon four crepes stood, round, browned and ready in plates. He walloped a spoonful of farmer's cheese on each one, then turned to flip the bacon in the pan.

Next, he sprayed whipped cream all over the crepe, stopping once he thought he reached a desirable amount for people like the Dursleys. Then, he put the piece de resistance - according to Hermione - on top: fresh, cut strawberries glazed with a strawberry-flavored sauce, the kind you poured onto ice cream. It looked fantastic. He ate one of them quickly and set the other three on to the table.

Harry then returned to the bacon.

" What are you making, Harry? I can smell something sweet. You aren't loading Dudley with that chocolate mousse again, are you? It was absolutely horrid!" Aunt Petunia called out.

Harry knew that was a lie - Aunt Petunia had eaten a good three portions of it before she tired. She had no compliments for him, though.

" No, Aunt Petunia, it isn't mousse. It's crepe, and bacon and some eggs for main course. The crepes are for dessert." Harry had by now made a good heaping portion of bacon and began on the eggs.

" Good, then. Good." Aunt Petunia called out and returned to speaking with Dudley over how wonderful he was doing in school, and how she should reward him. Dudley had brought home a report card with marks worse than Neville's - but the Dursleys marveled over it anyway, and blaming the teachers for the worse ones.

When Harry felt he had done enough work on the breakfast, he placed the food onto the table, took a small plate for himself, and sat down in the corner of the room to eat. The breakfast intended for Harry was the leftover pancakes from the day before - only two of them, the ones Dudley had dropped on the kitchen floor.

Aunt Petunia had no mercy for Harry when it came to what he ate. Harry either ate with a smile whatever she 'mercifully' gave up for him, or Harry ate nothing at all.

Then, Harry excused himself from the kitchen just as the Dursleys dug into their breakfast and went up to his room. There, he flipped through the photographs of his friends again, before he dozed off on his bed. One of my better birthdays, he thought groggily through his sleep-filled mind.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

The days zipped by, and soon Harry found himself at Hogwarts, waiting in front of the school on the steps for Ron and Hermione. They said they'd go on the late train - a new addition to the Hogwarts Express. The late train came about fifteen minutes later then the first one.

Hagrid had come to pick Harry up this time, only because Harry had no other way to get to Diagon Alley. The Dursleys, sure as heck, weren't going to drive Harry anywhere. So, rather willingly, Hagrid had volunteered to bring along his student/friend to school.

Harry grew sleepy and tired, standing there, waiting for Ron and Hermione. Soon he was sitting on the cold steps, his head drooping down forwards, until it hung suspended over his knees. The rush of Hogwarts students passed him lulled him even more.

Suddenly, he felt a tug on his shoulder, light at first and then harder. Then, a hissing whisper: " Harry! Wake up!"

His eyes shot open, and Hermione was bending over in front of him, her nose skimming his as he looked up. She blushed and straightened up, her Gryffindor scarf fluttering around in the wind. "Well. . . hi!"

" Hi." Harry stood up, and looked around. "Where's Ron?"

" He's coming in a week. Something last minute came up. I think his brother is really sick - the one with the dragons." She looked sad. " So I guess we're alone."

" I guess." Harry wasn't feeling sad at all, to his guilty admittance.

" For a week, only." She added.

" Yeah." Harry looked down at his feet. Without Ron's funny words and advice, he was lost in what to say and how to act in front of the girl before him. Hermione laughed and asked:

" What's wrong with you, Harry? You look angry."

" I do?" Harry realized he was frowning, his lips turned downwards in contemplation. But of course - he always seemed to frown when he was deep in thought. " Oh, sorry, just lost in thought."

" What about?" Hermione wrapped her hands around the book in her arms, a smile crossing her face. " Not Quidditch again, eh?"

" No." Harry's eyes searched around his surroundings for a distraction of some sort, so that Hermione wouldn't question him farther. " Look at that! Cho had already found herself a new boyfriend!"

" Cho?" Hermione's lips pursed, and then loosened seeing the boyfriend Harry was referring to.

Cho was standing in the far corner of the room hugging a little boy mysteriously alike to her. " She has a brother?" Harry exclaimed.

" I'd say it's her cousin. I heard her talking about it on the train." Hermione giggled. " For a minute, I thought you seriously meant - - you know. . . "

" Children!" The door burst open and Professor McGonagall was standing before them, her wrinkled face beaming. " Come in, Hogwarts is ready!" Her eyes stopped on Harry, and she slowed down to speak to him. " Harry. . . how was your vacation off from school?"

" The summer holidays never feel like a vacation for Harry. The Dursleys had once again been horrible to him! They worked him like their slave or something. The only thing missing was the painful whip and the horrid remarks. Or maybe he got them as well!" Hermione broke in. " Harry told me all about it in a letter, the one with the little Muggle candy, Hershey, in it. . . remember, Harry?"

Harry nodded quickly, then turned to face Professor McGonagall.

" Miss Granger, I don't believe your name is Harry." Professor McGonagall looked a bit less happy. " I think I was referring directly to Mister Potter here."

" Oops. I'm sorry. It's just that Harry is too quiet to ever tell you all of it! Right, Harry?" Hermione nudged Harry in the side. His hands went up to his glasses, taking them off slowly and cleaning them with the corner of his shirt as he walked.

" I certainly wouldn't had put it in the same wording as you." Harry said, a grin tugging his mouth even wider.

" Sometimes being in hiding at a Muggle family like these Dursleys is best for you." Professor McGonagall said. Just then, Dumbledore shouted from across the room: " Ah! Professor McGonagall! We have a first year here who'd separated from his group!"

Harry leaned over Hermione's shoulder and saw that it was Cho's cousin. Professor McGonagall smiled apologetically at Harry and Hermione and then walked over to Dumbledore, whose great white beard was now past his knees.

" The poor first years. I can remember how overwhelming my first year was." Hermione said, reminiscing in the days past.

" My first year was even worse." Harry reminded her. " I didn't know anything at all; not a single wizard term or spell or potion." Hermione stiffed suddenly. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

" Malfoy." She spoke in a voice filled with bitter dislike. "What does HE want from us?"

" Ah! If it isn't scar-faced Potter and Germy Granger!" Draco Malfoy sneered, facing Harry; his whitish blonde hair slicked back in an even more intimidating way then usual.

" What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked, coolly.

" Nothing!" Draco replied, his eyebrows raising. " Can't a guy come up and greet his foes? Say, Potter, you've gotten taller. You're looking more like all arms and legs every day."

Harry didn't answer. Hermione stepped forwards, her eyes squinted as she said: " Evacus!"

" Evacus?" Harry asked, and then watched as Draco spun around and walked away, as if the conversation never existed.

" It's a spell I picked up over the summer. It'll make anyone simply turn around and go away." Hermione laughed. " It'll come in handy with Malfoy."

" Oh, it sure will!" Harry grinned.

" Harry! It's THE Harry Potter!" Some girl squealed. Suddenly, Harry felt at least ten kids crowding around him, each first years, each staring intently at the scar on his forehead.

" Evacus!" He grumbled, his wand flitting through the air.

" No, no, Harry, you pronounced it wrong!" Hermione said, softly.

The first years asked Harry: " Is it true about. . . everything? About how you already fought You-Know-Who twice in the time at Hogwarts?"

" Yeah, it is. Now can you please. . . " Harry said, startled.

" Beat it!" Hermione finished, in her edgier way of speech.

" Hermione!" Harry breathed out, shocked. " That was a bit rude, wasn't it?"

" It worked." Hermione replied, simply, as the first-years slowly backed away.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Harry slid into his common room, where he immediately changed into his pajamas and then took out Hermione's photo, the ones of her that he took along from the Dursley's home. Slowly, his finger traced along the lines of her face as her hair was whipped by the beach winds in the photo. It was the one of her sitting in the setting sun, near the slowly casting sea.

" Harry!"

Harry's head jerked up and the photo fell to the ground, face up. Hermione had walked into the room, in her nightgown.

" What. . . what is it?" Harry shot to his feet, standing in front of the fallen photo so that Hermione couldn't see it.

" I came to wish you good night." Hermione replied. " I see Neville is sleeping already."

Neville had fallen asleep on the couch, his freckled cheeks shimmering in the light of the fireplace. " Yeah." Harry replied, sheepishly.

" Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, her brown hair, with the light highlights, tumbling in curls down her shoulders as she cocked her head to the side in wonder at his shy actions.

" No, it's just - nothing." Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid.

" What's that behind you? On the ground?" Hermione looked at the smooth surface of the photo. It reflected the firelight, so it was hard to see what it was. " A wrapper? Eating candy at night, are we?"

She poked Harry in the stomach. " You'll be out of shape for Quidditch." She teased.

Then, she stepped past him. He took her hand. " Hermione, I. . ."

" What is it?" She was standing right above the photo. One glance down and she'd see it, and it would all be out.

" Er. . . " Suddenly, his scar flashed in a burst of pain. His hand shot up to the ridges on his forehead. " My scar! It's burning!" He'd never been so happy to be distracted by his scar as he now was.

Then, not a trace of the pain was left. He pressed the ridge marks on his face, then murmured: " Never mind now."

" Do you think. . . You-Know-Who is near?" Hermione whispered, quietly.

" Voldemort?" Harry said the word as if it were nothing, then saw Hermione wince and added, quickly: " Sorry. I keep forgetting."

" It's okay." Hermione let out a slow, wavering breath. " Why does it go away so fast, though? Had it always. . . ?"

" Yes." Harry took her cold fingers and pressed them to his scar. " Right here - always, always coming and going. Unbearable pain, really."

Her fingertip, freezing like ice but soft and smooth as silk, ran down across his scar, then continued down his cheek, her hand guiding his face up to hers, their eyes meeting. " Harry, you really should report it to Dumbledor this time. It could get dangerous -You-Know-Who might really be around this time, as well as before."

" I. . . I suppose. Now, I think it's way past bedtime, so if you don't mind. . . " Harry stammered, trying to steer her away from the photograph on the floor. His bare foot tried to push the photo beneath the lazy-boy chair, but the rough backing of the photo didn't slide well on the carpeted floor and his toe made a loud, squeaking noise instead as it slid down the length of the photograph.

The Hermione in the picture was still sitting calmly by the ocean, staring out into the waves, her hair fluttering around behind her.

Harry saw this from the corner of his eye, then looked up just as Hermione looked down. His foot stamped down fast over the photograph, covering most of it.

" What's going on, Harry? You're acting strange." Hermione asked.

" Nothing!" Harry protested.

" Nothing? Really?" Hermione gently pushed him aside, his foot dragging the photo with him, so that when she looked down on the floor where his foot was, only a small area of carpet remained, a bit flattened out by his foot, the carpet dimpled where his toes where. " Weird. I really thought you. . . "

" Would you guys keep it down?" Neville piped up from the couch. His sleepy eyes studied Harry and Hermione for a minute, then widened. " Oh, maybe I should leave."

" No, Neville - it really isn't necessary." Hermione said, quickly.

" It's alright. I can go! No need to be secretive." Neville winked at Harry and then stood up, his side jabbing into the corner of the table. The flowerpot on the table wobbled dangerously, and Hermione caught it before it tipped over.

" Sorry." Neville whimpered, and rushed from the room.

" Longbottom is just as clumsy as before, isn't he?" Hermione said, smiling.

Harry nodded, and then succeeded in pushing the photograph further down beneath the lazy-boy chair. Now concealed, he was able to move around freely. He took a step forwards and then said: " Well, let's sit down, shall we?"

She nodded and then lowered herself on the couch. Harry sat opposite her, on the lazy boy chair, trying to look completely unknowing of the photograph that lay guiltily beneath him.

" So . . . "

" Well . . . " They both said, at the same time.

Hermione laughed, and then dug into the pocket of her nightgown, bringing out a folded piece of paper. " I just remembered - Ron sends a letter. He insisted that I don't read it, but I. . . peeked."

Harry's stomach dropped. If Ron had written of Harry's love for Hermione, then - he shuddered inwardly at the thought. A prickle in his scar made his eyes widen suddenly.

" What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

" Nothing." Harry quickly said, and took the folded letter from her hands. He opened it up and read to himself:

Dear Harry!

My brother, Charlie, had gotten really sick and we're

gonna go see him in Norway. I hope you're doing all right.

Hermione was to give you this letter, so I knew I couldn't write

much in here. I bet she peaked!

Harry looked up at Hermione, and she blushed. She knew what Harry had just read, and was a bit embarrassed that Ron had been correct- she had peeked.

So, what's new, Harry? Is Dudley still fat as a house?

Are the Dursleys still mean to you? Do you miss Hogwarts?

Did you completely hate summer holidays? If you answered

yes at all these questions then not much changed in your life.

That sounds like one of those quizzes in my mom's

magazine, "Witch's Brew". It's always got those things where

women fill out questions and analyze their lives and men and

stuff.

I hope we see each other soon. At least I hope Charlie

gets well soon. Not only because I care for his health, but then

the sooner I get to see you and Hermione.

Your friend,

Ron

Harry folded the letter back up and then said: " I guess Ron's brother must be really seriously sick, then. The Weasleys wouldn't cancel all their children's school schedules for some sort of cold. I wonder what happened to Charlie . . . "

" I think it's odd that Ron never mentions what happened. I mean, there must be already some sort of disease confirmed, or at least the symptoms. Yet, Ron doesn't even utter a word of what's happening to Charlie, other then that he's sick." Hermione pointed out.

" Ron might not know himself. His parents might not have told him, so as not to worry him." Harry suggested.

" Maybe." Hermione looked doubtful.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed up the stairs and the face of Professor McGonagall peered into the doorway. " Students! Do you wish to have five points taken from Gryffindor on the very first day? Miss Granger, I thought you knew better then to sneak around in the night anymore."

" I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione mumbled, and then rushed from the room, saying a quick " Good night" to Harry. Once outside, Hermione began to speak softly to Professor McGonagall and the two women laughed lightly. Harry wished he could know what they were laughing about - was it about him?

He looked sideways into the tall mirror in the corner of the room. Harry preferred not to obsess on how he looked, but he had lately been trying to figure out how he'd look without his glasses. Everything was annoyingly fuzzy when he didn't have them on, and he barely had any depth perception. Yet, he felt he must look a bit better. Would Hermione care for him if he looked better?

Harry had often gotten praise from girls about his looks, especially today, before he got to his common room. Lavender had told him he looked cute, and asked how he got so muscled (Harry was wearing his sleeves rolled up of his Hogwarts robes, so his arm muscles practically bulged). But, Harry thought, my arms are like that from Quidditch, and I was the same last year.

The face in the mirror that he saw was older then he last remembered. The Dursleys rarely let Harry enough time in privacy to peek into a mirror. The only time he got to use mirrors freely was at Hogwarts. The mirror talked to him, often, and it did so now:

" It's not nice to stare, honey."

" Oh, sorry." Harry said, flustered.

" Only joking." The mirror said, then yawned. " You look nicer, by the way. A bit mysterious, and quite romantic. I overheard quite some talk from the ladies."

Harry's eyebrows raised.

" Oh, yes." The mirror continued. " But I would do something with your hair. It's a catastrophe with such a handsome face."

" I really can't. . ." Harry said, but the mirror continued, droning sleepily:

" Perhaps the glasses could be lost, though they are your trademark. No, in fact, its sweet that way, and it really seems like its framing your pretty eyes, they're really a nice green! No, I think that maybe . . . " The mirror talked on. Harry didn't listen any longer. He disliked obsessing on himself, after all.

The next morning, Harry dressed quickly and ran to the dining hall. The breakfast had already been set up, with the magical plates laden with delicious food. Harry had never been able to feast like this at the Dursleys - he rarely got a bread crust or two if they were in a good mood. Now in front of his eyes were plates of delicious toast, with small dapples of butter in the middle, browned pancakes with maple syrup bottles nearby, delicious-looking breakfast sausage and hashed potatoes, and a few other delicacies.

" Hey! Harry!" Someone called out his name.

Harry turned, his robes billowing and whipping around his legs, and saw Neville. Neville's face was red from exhaustion, for he clearly had run from the Gryffindor table to him.

" What is it, Neville?" Harry asked, hoping it didn't have anything to do with Malfoy.

" Snape wants to talk to you. He's been standing by our table for ages now, waiting for you. Hermione's got the creeps scared out of her!" Neville breathed in and out violently before continuing: "Whatever you do, don't smile. Hermione smiled at Snape and he took it as an offense. You know, as if she was sneering at him or something."

" Oh." Harry looked downcast. " Do I . . . seriously . . . have to go see him? Think you can pull off something about how I'm ill to the stomach, puking my insides out in the boy's bathroom?"

" Nope. I tried that before. Gangrene worked well for a day or two, but then he spoke to the nurse and . . . " Neville shuddered. " I got punished."

Harry put his hand on Neville's shoulder. " Neville, don't let Snape put you down. He's just one of those creeps, you know?"

" I know." Neville mumbled through his puffed lower lip. He'd woken up this morning and smashed his head into the wall with a sickening crack, and gave himself a swollen lip among other injuries unseen by his robe. Then, Neville looked away from Harry's green eyes and said: " Go to Snape. You shouldn't keep him waiting."

" Alright." Harry smiled and then approached the Gryffindor table. A few students turned to say "Hi, Harry", to which he waved back, but most students were too busy keeping silent and stiff so as to keep from getting snapped at by Snape.

" Ah! If it isn't Mr. Potter, finally awake from his boyish dreams of glory." Professor Snape said.

" Good morning, Professor." Harry replied, trying to keep from saying something mean.

" I see you aren't accompanied by the red disaster, that freckled Weasley boy. In fact, I hadn't seen any of them. Had the Weasley plague finally retreated?" Professor Snape crossed his arms across his thin body.

" Ron's brother, Charlie, is sick. They went to see him." Harry explained.

" Another case of the sniffles getting the whole family alarmed, I bet. That Mrs. Weasley makes such a big deal about little things." Professor Snape lifted a goblet from the table and took a long, deep drink, then continued: " Potter, I waited for you to speak about a different matter, though."

" What is it?" Harry asked, growing restless.

" Draco Malfoy had reported to me that you've been performing the Evacus spell on him. He said he'd come up to say hello to you, wishing to extend a friendly greeting, when you zapped him with a spell. I find it very rude and wish an explanation, Potter." Professor Snape frowned.

" Draco had come up and insulted me openly, calling me all arms and legs . . . " Harry explained, then sighed. " Hermione was the one that cast the Evacus spell, anyhow. I'm not that knowledgeable in spells."

" I see. Miss Granger!" Professor Snape shouted. The room fell into a deathly silence, all four tables staring towards Snape. He looked at Hermione, who had stood up. Now that the bustle in the room settled, Harry, Hermione and Snape were the only ones standing.

" What is it, Professor?" Hermione said, softly. Her voice projected through the room easily, anyway.

" Is it true that both of you had been casting Evacus spells on people who simply wished to greet you?" Professor Snape pointed accusingly at them.

" Not really, it was actually . . . " Harry began, trying to explain how the only person they sent away with the Evacus spell was Draco.

" Don't talk back to me!" Snape shouted. " Five points from Gryffindor."

Murmurs of anger arose from the Gryffindor table, and the Slytherin table was in uproar with laughter. Snape's facial muscles tensed and he continued: " Another ten points from Gryffindor for the Evacus spell. And a quarter point each for each of the forty or so kids that whispered."

" What! But Slytherin was laughing full-blow, while we only . . . " Hermione burst out.

" I believe twenty-five points off total is enough, Miss Granger? Do you wish me to take off a point for each word you utter?" Snape asked.

" Professor Snape! The children are right! If you take off points for rowdiness at the Gryffindor table, then Slytherin should have the same points taken off, as well!" Dumbledore spoke up from across the room.

Snape blanched, then continued, trying to act casually: "Alright, then. Ten points from Slytherin."

" What?" The distinct shout of Malfoy echoed in the room. Everyone's eyes settled on the white-haired young man sitting at the Slytherin table, his cold blue eyes piercing through the air in the room, his forehead creased in an angry scowl of contempt and anger towards everyone, especially Snape's choice of punishment, as well as Dumbledore's intrusion on the affair.

" Mister Malfoy, do you wish to enter this conversation as well?" Dumbledore asked.

" No." Malfoy replied. " But it's not my fault! It's Harry's fault! It's him who had to go and cast that spell on me! I'm still feeling shaky about it!"

" Shaky . . . yeah right." Someone whispered from the Hufflepuff table.

Then, Cho stood up, her shiny black hair cascading down her back as she announced: " I think that Harry's punishment is unfair. Who's with me?"

Shouts of agreement rose from around the room. Snape was startled and angered, but he finally pressed his lips tightly shut and grimaced as he held his hands up, saying: " The punishment stays!"

" Now, let's get some rest and enjoy our first breakfast here!" Dumbledore looked very mad. Harry got shivers running up his back and goose bumps on his arms beneath his robe at the thought of Dumbledore being angry. Dumbledore was about the most powerful wizard other then Voldemort.

" Harry! Cho stood up for you! Cho!" Some boy said dreamily to Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes and then patted the empty spot at the table beside her. " Harry, come sit with me."

All heads close enough to hear averted to Hermione.

" What? He's my friend!" Hermione grumbled. " Really, you people . . . "

Harry sat down beside Hermione and then put a pancake on his plate, along with a toast and a scrambled egg. His eyes studied the meal before him before he said: " I wonder if Ron is alright."

" Why wouldn't he be? It's Charlie we should worry about." Hermione said.

" I know . . . but . . . " Harry bit his lower lip in worry, then continued: " I have this weird feeling. I don't know where it came from, but just suddenly . . . "

" Don't worry, Harry." Hermione sighed and then cut her toast into two equal pieces. " Isn't this toast hard or what?"

" I'll say." Harry laughed, poking his fork deep into the hardened toast. It slid across his plate under the pressure of his fork and plopped down on the white tablecloth.

" Watch it." Hermione said, and then helped him lift the toast back onto his plate. Their heads bumped just as they both looked up at each other.

" Ouch! Sorry." Harry blushed and then turned to find Neville sitting down beside him.

" Hey, Harry . . . " Neville said, between wheezing gasps for air. "I . . . thought . . . I'd . . . come back for . . . more food. Still . . . hungry . . . is Snape gone?"

" I suppose so." Harry replied. " He took twenty five points from Gryffindor."

" What!" Neville burst out, then added: " At least it's not my fault this time."

"Acquiescence is the only way to be around Snape." Hermione sighed.

" Acquiescence?" Neville asked, his eyes dulling at the unfamiliar word. " Isn't that the thing you call people you just met?"

" No! That's acquaintance. Acquiescence is compliance, submissiveness. You know." Hermione seemed a bit discouraged with how Neville and Harry didn't understand the hard words she used. " Perhaps I should speak - - um - - without using the fancy terms?"

" Yeah. You should." Harry nodded solemnly.

Hermione nodded, and then continued: " I'm thinking that we can study together in the evenings, Harry. It would really improve your Potions class mark."

" I don't have a mark yet. Classes start after breakfast." Harry grinned.

" Yes, I know!" Hermione rolled her eyes. " You are the same Harry from last year, though, and that means you'll do pretty much the same in Potions. That wasn't a very nice mark you got last year." Hermione frowned at the thought.

" I wonder what Snape will make us do now. This is Advanced Potions, isn't it?" Neville asked.

" Most likely, or Potions Two, or 'The Torture, Extended', however you call it." A shy first-year spoke up. He smiled at Harry when his eyes met his, knowing this was the famous Harry Potter's attention he had captured. " My cousin goes here, and she always complains a lot about Snape."

" Aren't you Cho's cousin?" Hermione asked.

The boy nodded.

" Cho . . . " Harry felt a surge of memories. He used to like her, but maybe it was just admiring from a distance. Harry had never tried to explain it to himself afterwards, all he felt in his heart now was Hermione.

" Harry!" Someone burst out from across the room. Harry looked up and smiled to see Colin Creevey, his greatest 'fan'. Colin burst out laughing gleefully and lifted up his camera, as if to take a picture, then winked and shouted: " Don't worry, Harry, I'm not going to annoy you this year."

" Thank Heavens." Hermione grumbled under her breath. Colin had gotten under her nails often enough, as well.

" That was some steam you must have held in, when Snape was arguing with you!" Colin sat down at beside him, smashing Hermione away.

Harry felt as if his own body was ripped in two as Hermione's soft robes no longer skimmed his leg and arm. Dennis, Colin's brother, soon followed Colin with an equally shining smile on his round face.

" I've had practice." Harry replied.

" How do you come up with such witty remarks?" Colin marveled.

" Not purposely, if that's what you mean." Harry and Hermione exchanged He's-still-annoying kind of looks, then Harry returned to speaking with Colin. " Shouldn't you be . . . somewhere?"

"What do you mean, Harry? I'm a Gryffindor, just like Colin! Why shouldn't we sit with you?" Then, Dennis's face changed. " Oh, but of course! You're the boy . . . the BOY THAT LIVED!"

" I see you take after your brother in your fascinations." Hermione said, softly.

" It's really not like that, I just thought I'd be able to have a quiet welcoming dinner for once. Then again, with the whole Snape thing, I'm surprised I'm still in the mood to eat at all." Harry buttered his toast angrily.

" You really could use more meat on your bones." Cho's cousin said, after a while. " Cho said that you're lean and quiet, and charming!" Cho's cousin giggled and then nudged the first-year boy beside him. " Didn't she, Kyle?"

The other first-year, Kyle Snook, nodded feverishly, then chuckled.

Harry heard Hermione grumble: " Oh, bother."

" Isn't that the boy Lavender likes?" Some girl whispered behind Harry just then. A thin murmur of giggles followed. Harry couldn't help but bite his tongue to keep from turning around and seeing if they meant him. Of course they don't, Harry thought. Lavender's not into boys like me.

Colin continued talking to him, his face changing expressions as he rummaged through topics. Finally, he struck a gold vein as he mentioned Quidditch. " Oh, and Harry - I hear they're going to make you Quidditch captain of the Gryffindor team."

" Captain?" Harry nearly choked on the piece of bacon that he'd been trying to swallow. " Me?"

" Well, sure!" Colin pushed the crust of his bread into his mouth, and then turned to Cho's cousin. " Kid, what's your name, anyway?"

" Nikki. Call me Nick, though. That's what everyone calls me." Nick sniffled as his hand rummaged through his pockets for a napkin. " I'm surprised I didn't go to Hufflepuff, like Cho."

Just then, a loud banging filled the room and Dumbledor announced: " All eyes towards me, children."

Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to face the tall man in dark robes, today a shade of light gray, his white beard blending oddly well with the fuzzy fabric. Harry's eyes met the wizard's, and the wizard's eyes sparkled with a unique appreciation for the boy. Then, Dumbledore said: " I'm sure you're all excited about Quidditch. Well, we have some announcements to make as to the first game. It will be in exactly three days, so you might as well get ready, all you Quidditch players. Meanwhile, will all Gryffindor students submit an entry for who shall be captain of Gryffindor team to Madame Hooch? Thank you." Dumbledore sat down.

A buzz crossed the Gryffindor table as people discussed among each other who the captain should be. Harry heard his name tossed around aimlessly, then his hearing faded into concentrating on Colin's words: " - - And Dennis, I'm telling you, Malfoy is up to no good."

" What did Malfoy do now?" Harry turned to Colin.

" Oh, nothing!" Colin immediately said. " I'm just telling Dennis about how Malfoy had always been so bad that he'll amount to nothing good when he grows up."

" True." Nick agreed. " Cho told me that that's the boy that always tortures Harry. Cho talks a lot about Harry. Harry, didn't you ask her to the dance?"

Harry's ears burned red. " No." He mumbled, then looked from the corner of his eye at Cho. She was still chatting excitedly with two girls her age, one of them a new girl by the name of Rebecca Crick, a transfer student from Beauxbaxton.

" Well, whatever. She said you did. Maybe she lied for some reason." Nick then described how Cho raved over the way Harry had asked her to the dance - and then spoke in a reverent way: "She went with Ceddric Diggory, though. Bless his soul."

The thought of Ceddric still made Harry sad. The fact that Ceddric had died seemed almost unbelievable. He had been such a great person, so nice and always so open. Polite to adults, according to the speech Professor McGonagall told her class the last day of school. A good kisser, according to Cho, as said by Nick.

" Harry, I can't eat anymore." Hermione said, pushing her plate forwards. The white dish disappeared immediately. She then excused herself from the table and ran away.

" What's wrong with her? Doesn't she like hearing about Cho?" Nick asked aloud.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Harry had walked away from the Gryffindor table a while later. Something was wrong with Hermione - he could sense it. Harry's feet led him to their room, where the portrait of the fat lady hung. The fat lady turned to him, her eyes opening groggily as she let out a few gurgled words: " So sleepy - - Password, please?"

" Cricket Knees." Harry said.

" Incorrect." The fat lady replied.

" Oh! Cricket Elbow!" Harry remembered the password a bit better now.

" That's the stuff." The portrait swung aside and Harry walked into his common room. He'd told Hermione the password an hour before, for she'd been forgetting things lately. He wondered why it had slipped his mind, as well.

Inside the common room, he saw disarray of feathers on the floor, a slashed open pillow lying limp on the coffee table, and a small jar of sand knocked over. Neville had gotten some sand from some sort of good-luck stream in Italy, from an aunt of his, which he had spilled that morning. The pillow was Harry's - but now part of Neville's destructive demise as he tripped while carrying a pocketknife, in order to open the package in which the sand came in. In the end, the sand had been destroyed anyhow.

Hermione was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, a book in one hand and an apple in the other. She ate in hungrily, not even noticing as she consumed the sticker on it. " Hermione?" Harry asked, uncertainly. " I thought you weren't hungry."

Hermione looked up from the page of the book, her eyes searching Harry's for a minute before she said, simply: " Eh. I guess my appetite came back."

" That's good." Harry bent over, trying to pick up the feathers dotting the floor. " That Neville can make a mess, can't he! Yet, he can't clean it up. Pity, since the common room is completely shabby because of him."

" I agree." Hermione grinned as she kicked her leg out, her foot clad in a pink bunny slipper. A few feathers soared off from the sole of the slipper and settled on the carpet. The carpets had been replaced with new ones, this time of wine-dark color and spun with intricate designs of gold thread. Hermione saw Harry looking at the carpet and added: " I hear the carpets came from India. Dumbledor went through quite some trouble to get them."

" How do you know these things?" Harry asked, amused.

" I hear the teachers speak. While you and Ron blank out in class, I listen intently. This morning, while Snape ranted at you, I heard Professor Trelawney speak in the back of the room about the rugs. She was pleased, saying their richness could influence the mystical eye inside the students." Hermione snorted with laughter. " I'm still not over how ridiculous her class was."

" This year she's teaching us palm reading. It could get interesting." Harry looked at his own palms. Small lines crossed here and there, and he'd noticed long ago that when he'd purse his hand a certain way, the four main lines formed a little 'M'. 'M' for Millionaire, happy and rich; or an 'M' for mother, the woman he never knew, who's life was taken for him.

" Palm reading. Rubbish." Hermione balled up her hands into fists. " What next? She'll pull apart our peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and read our fortunes from the jelly swirl patterns."

" Hey! I'd seen people do that before! It's pretty accurate." Harry sat down beside Hermione, which was hard considering how the lazy-boy wasn't exactly fit for two people to sit at on one time. But Harry had balanced more on the arm of it, and Hermione was nestled in the far corner, a bit surprised by Harry's closeness.

" Really? Jelly?" She asked, her eyes unmoving from Harry. She was looking at something - at what? Harry tried to trail her eyes to where she was looking. She seemed to be looking up over his eyes. Is my hair messy? Harry thought. Then, he realized that it was his scar.

" No! The palm reading!" Harry took her hand and turned it over. She had colored her nails a nice light blue, with tiny sparkles floating on it. He saw the lines across her palms, then tried to remember which meant what. His finger touched the very center-running crease and said: " I think this is the life line. It curves right there." His finger ran to where it seemed to split and then run at a slightly different angle. " - - I'd say that's about the fifteenth or sixteenth year of your life, counting on the length of the line."

" What does it mean?" She asked.

" Something important, life-changing will happen." Harry then touched the line directly above it, running across the top, then curving with the other one. " That's the wealth line, I think. Not much wealth you have there."

" No surprise there!" She laughed.

" And this. this is love." He stopped. The line had tapered off towards him. He put her hand back on her book. " Never mind that. What I came here for is to ask what's wrong. You seemed upset and just ran from the table."

" Nothing's wrong, Harry." Hermione assured him. Harry read the spine of the book in her hands: Quidditch through the Ages. "Hey! Cool!" I read that book!" Harry exclaimed. " Since when do you like Quidditch?"

" Oh, I dunno. I'm thinking of joining the team."

Harry began to laugh, then saw the seriousness on Hermione's face. " What? You don't think I can make it?" She asked, a trace of disappointment twitching her lips.

" No! It's just - you don't seem the type." Harry explained.

" The type? And what kind of type am I?" She poked him in the chest, then blushed. " A bookworm? The type that will study all day and have no worldly liking?"

" No!" Harry stood up. " I'm sorry if I offended you."

" You didn't offend me at all. That just makes me want to try out more!" She tossed her hair over her shoulder for it had slipped forwards, then added: " I should get ready for classes. Professor Snape is first - and he's no fun."

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Snape's class, indeed, was no fun. The minute they walked into class (Hermione and Harry being last there, therefore all eyes on them), Snape exclaimed:

" Well, if it isn't my favorite student."

A brief laughter echoed in the room, then ceased at the sight of Snape's sour face. His eyes glittered at the surprised silence, using it to his advantage in order to humiliate Harry in front of a wide-awake, alert audience.

" And if he isn't accompanied by Miss Granger, his closest companion."

Malfoy laughed bitterly from his seat, saying: " Potter, sit your sorry behind down before you turn any redder."

Harry hadn't even realized he'd been red, but now he acknowledged it and sat down right away. Snape narrowed his eyes, until they became angry slits, and then the words hissing from his parched lips nearly sent shivers up and down Harry's back: " Today I want Harry to be my assistant."

" Professor, it isn't fair to torment Harry because of the nit-pick this morning." Parvati Patil spoke up.

" Parvati!" Snape seemed surprised. " Would you like to explain your sudden affection to Potter?"

Parvati was about four shades redder then Harry. " I just t-t-think it's unfair, t-t-that's all." She stammered.

Thanks, Harry mouthed to Parvati. She only turned redder, so Harry averted his eyes to face Snape instead. " Now, then. Harry, come up front."

Harry did, moving slowly, his robes rustling around him uncomfortably, making the noise of a sack of potatoes rubbing on tree bark.

Once he was in front, Snape told the class: "Prepare your quills, you'll be writing a ghastly amount of notes."

The class grumbled as parchments flittered out from bags and ink canisters clattered on the shiny surfaces of the desks. Hermione gave Harry a thumbs-up sign, trying to make him smile or at least look somewhat like it wasn't dooms-day. Harry turned to Snape, and the tall dark-haired man began:

" Today we will be looking through the simple potion - the Liquefier. It simply, when ingested, turns the person into liquid form." Snape smiled at Harry. " Potter, I'd advise removing your glasses. They might have some damage done to them as your body melts to the floor."

Gasps filled the room, then the feverish scratching of quill against parchment. Only Hermione couldn't tear her worried eyes from Harry, her pen barely marking the paper, her handwriting three times as bad as she didn't even look down at what she wrote.

" Now, the ingredients are few, but important. Listen carefully, those of you that wish to have me repeat then I'll do the next demonstration on you." The words sounded especially frightening to Harry's classmates, now that Harry, the seemingly bravest student (who'd faced off with Voldemort) was standing like a trembling turkey before Thanksgiving.

" First, class, what is needed in order to soften bones? I'm sure Madame Pomfrey mentioned this once or twice to anyone who'd been in the hospital wing." Snape looked over the students in the class, skipping Hermione, who's hand waved frantically in the air.

" Nobody knows?" Snape sighed. " Such ignorant children. Well, the ingredient would be bone marrow - completely ground, I may add - from a Whilltilly. Does anyone know what a Whilltilly is?"

Once again, nobody knew but Hermione, and Snape avoided her raised hand completely. " A Whilltilly, my ignorant students, is a strange plant that grows with bones inside it. It cannot move, and yet has a bone structure for no apparent reason. It's about the same as a beet in appearance. A farmer in Indiana, USA, had found one three years ago. The Ministry of Magic had to work overtime trying to erase the incident from the farmer's mind and then erasing any signs that there could have been a beet like that. And the Whilltilly was taken to grow among its brothers in a special botanic garden in Wales."

" Professor!" Hermione's hand shot up.

" Does anyone have questions so far?" Snape asked, cruelly.

" I do!" Hermione gasped out.

" Nobody." Snape smiled. " Alright, Harry. Next ingredient - a dragon scale, also ground into smooth powder. Everyone, I'm sure, knows what a dragon is, and what a scale is?"

The silence in the class was interrupted by a squeal from Neville: " Uh . . . Professor? My ink spilled."

" You blubbering fool! Must you mess up everything that your hands touch?" Snape shouted. " Use your wand to clean it up!"

" What!" Neville's eyes widened. " Do you want me to burn the desk to a crisp?"

" Do it!" Snape hissed.

Neville gulped and lifted his wand. He thought hard for the spell, whispered something, and then sparks shot from his wand, engulfing his desk. Soon, the desk was clean. " I did it!" Neville screamed out. " I actually did it!"

Snape looked disappointed. The Professor probably wanted him to mess up so that he could humiliate Neville again. " A point from Gryffindor for Neville's pathetic cheering." Snape grumbled.

Shouts of protest arose from the Gryffindors in the room.

" Make that two points." Snape shouted over the class. "Moving on, the third ingredient is a liquid, to mix the two powders together. It's simple water, the most common liquid in our world other then. what?"

Hermione raised her hand, and Malfoy did as well. Snape raised his eyebrows. " Look who's hand is up! Draco, would you like to tell the class?"

" Blood!" Malfoy sneered out.

" Excellent." Snape scribbled something down in the notebook he held, a smile on his face. " Excellent." He repeated, then added: "A point for Slytherin, for having the only young man in an entire class to answer something."

Hermione looked ready to cry.

" Now then." Snape took a small test tube from his desk and then pointed his wand at the potion, chanting: " Liquefier, Liquefier, Melt away the heart's desire, body of rock, body of stone, keep the form, lose the bone!"

Quills fluttered across parchments, writing the spell down. Harry's stomach twisted. He hadn't written any notes down, and he'd normally copy from Hermione but she wasn't writing anything much either; and Ron - Ron wasn't here.

" Now, then, my little assistant, drink this." Snape handed the potion to Harry.

Harry's hands trembled as he took his glasses off. Lavender made a small gasp sound in the back of the room as Harry's handsome face lost its dark frames, and the emerald green eyes blazed passionately now, other then simply flickered dully like aged silk when behind glasses. " Lavender, keep your hyperventilating for Madame Trelawney's class. She'll give you something to hyperventilate about." Snape said, and Lavender visibly made a movement in her mouth of biting her tounge to keep from yelling at Snape.

Harry took the potion and then pressed it to his lips. The salty taste of it wet his lips, and then he downed it quickly. He licked his lips. " Tastes like potato chips, eh, Harry?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. Then, suddenly, he felt his whole face sag as he nodded.

Parvati shrieked.

Harry's eyes looked down, only not purposely. They simply flowed down, along with his cheeks, until his whole body seemed to be curving over like a melting candle's wax.

" Ah! The bones are beginning to disappear." Snape announced. " See the obvious lack of bones appearing in the upper portions first? That's so the victim doesn't just fall over and collapse right away. The purpose of this is to horrify the victim, to keep him basking a while in the knowledge that he's melting alive."

Harry tried to speak, but his voice came out a liquid gurgle.

" What's that, Harry? Maybe you wish to be your true form again?" Snape glanced up. Hermione was standing, ready to run to the front of the class, her eyes haunted by a horrified expression. Hermione didn't trust Snape. She most likely expected Snape to keep Harry a liquid blob forever.

" Hermione, I'm not killing him up here. Don't worry, he'll be back to his true self. Ladies, settle down." Most of the girls, in fact, looked panicked.

Harry couldn't help but feel pleased, though it felt as if, as he smiled, his legs swirled along to his mouth. Everything was connected and moving together in water, after all.

" Well, I suppose I'll let Harry come back." Snape touched the puddle of Harry on the floor and said the spell: " Liquefier, Liquefier, retreat!"

Harry suddenly felt his whole body surge upwards, and his body seemed to go in reverse from the melting stage. Slowly he found his body parts oozing back together. Then, finally, he let out a breath and said, aloud: " Oh! Thank goodness!"

" Harry, you may return to your seat. I hope Hermione or Ron will provide you with the notes for - - oh, wait! Where is Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked. " Had he dared cut class? My class!"

" No, Professor. Ron is out visiting Charlie, remember?" Hermione piped up.

" Hmm that's right. My memory isn't as good these days as it used to be. Perhaps I have wasted too much time on this worthless class. By the way, Mr. Malfoy, is there news of a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher yet?" Snape turned to Draco, his most trusted student.

" No, sir."

" No?" Snape looked delighted and then turned serious. "Class, that would be it for today's lesson. Go home and review the notes. I want a complete parchment on the Liquefier spell by tomorrow. Describe fully what you saw happening to Potter."

Harry grabbed his glasses from Snape's table and then rushed to get his books. Then, he followed Hermione to his next class. They had the same schedule this year, and second class was Madame Hooch's Quidditch Advanced. She was teaching students to play Quidditch, so that even those not on the teams were familiarized with the game more personally.

Hermione had purchased for herself a Nimbus 2000 while Harry had his trusty Firebolt. As they stepped out into the blinding sunlight of the playing field along with their class (no Malfoy in this class, to Harry's joy), Madame Hooch's voice filled their ears: "Students, put your brooms on the ground. Now, stand up and flex your arms."

Then, the figure of Madame Hooch stepped into the field from the shadows on to their left. She showed them how to exercise their arms properly in order to make their upper arms operate the broom wisely (Harry had done this for an hour every two days for the whole summer, keeping his arms strong and ready for his fifth season).

" Madame Hooch!" Hermione raised her hand. " My broom's twitching."

" It's reacting to your hand movements. You're moving too violently. Come stand by Harry, he'll show you how to do it properly." Madame Hooch motioned to Harry, who was flexing his arms very professionally indeed.

Harry took hold of Hermione's arm, gently pulling her sleeves upwards. " Now, Herm, this is what you do. See up here?" He ran his finger across the muscle on the upper part of her arm. She grew pink in the cheeks. " Right there is the muscle you want to stretch. If you go like this with your fist - - " He cupped his hand over hers, gently pressing her fingers into a fist, then twisting her arm a bit so that the vein on her wrist nearly popped out. " - - You should feel a tightening in the muscle."

Hermione nodded slowly. " The muscle right here?" She motioned to Harry's arm.

He smiled and pulled the sleeve of his robe up, showing her his glistening muscle, his smile surprisingly warm. Harry usually disliked showing his body off. " See it?" He flexed his arm, and the muscle grew giant.

A few other girls began to look at his arm.

" Harry! I asked you to help Hermione, not distract the class." Madame Hooch laughed.

" I'm sorry." Harry looked downcast as he pulled the sleeve of his robe back down. His mind set on the next class, Professor Trelawney's palm reading, and then Herbology Advanced.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

The small attic room of Professor Trelawney was packed with even more clutter. Harry sat down on a particularly misshapen chair, with legs carved from birch (and very scarred, old birch it was), and Neville sat right beside him on it for it was very big. Hagrid must have made it, for his interest in woodcarving had spread to many new, odd wooden shapes standing around in the halls and classrooms of Hogwarts. A long, frizzled scarf hung overhead, its dulled fabric stringy near the bottom from constant use. At least a dozen fake flowers were scattered along the window behind Harry, which was covered with a light red mesh cloth.

" Good morning, my students." Professor Trelawney said, her voice distant as she sauntered towards them, her oversized robes trailing behind her. She stopped at Draco's seat (a fluffy pouf that billowed out feathers through a split in the seam on the side) and said: " Dear, I'd prefer if you'd erase the words you wrote on the underside of my table."

The class, already used to such extraordinary perception from the Professor, announced over Draco, who was erasing something now: " Please take out your books - the one with the picture of a palm on the cover?"

" The weirdest one yet." Parvati muttered.

" The most interesting, Parvati." Professor Trelawney corrected, though it seemed impossible for her to hear Parvati's murmur from the far corner of the room.

" Now, page seven will show the basic lines of a human palm. Harry Potter, please try to keep from glancing out the window this class, even though you'll see Hermione outside. That's the purpose of the red mesh today." Professor Trelawney said.

Harry's eyes widened. It was true, he had intended to sit by the window so he'd be able to pull aside the curtain and then see Hermione, who had signed up for a private lesson with Madame Hooch about Quidditch instead of Professor Trelawney's class, which Hermione deemed 'nutty'.

" Class, as you can see, the human palm is divided into a few various segments. The basic ones are the more definite lines." The Professor rummaged through a large leather bag standing on the ground beside her, and then stood up with a notebook. " Here, Neville, you can write your notes in here, since you're so worried you'll forget."

Neville gulped in surprise, then stood up and took the notebook, saying: " Thank you . . . "

" The lines are: life line, head line, heart line, health line, fate line, fame line, marriage (love) line, money line, spirit line, travel line, luck line, and - ahem - " Professor Trelawney cleared her throat. " A line you'll learn about later in your life, perhaps, a more adult one."

Malfoy laughed.

" Alright, then, I want you all to follow the instructions on page seven to read your own palm. Reading other's palms gets more difficult, so be patient with your own first to get used to reading palms. The final term test will be to read a palm accurately without the book." Professor Trelawney kneeled down beside Harry. " Now, Harry, I want to see your hand. I feel something wrong coming."

"Again? Oh, Potter, your life is living hell!" Malfoy shouted out. Crabbe and Goyle cackled harmoniously with his sly voice in the background.

" Oh dear!" Professor Trelawney tapped Harry's outstretched palm with her finger. " An enemy will come into your life . . . ah, I see a friend's sacrifice!"

" Please. This class is ridiculous enough without hearing the foibles of Harry's life." Draco stood up and then turned away from where Madame Trelawney was analyzing Harry Potter's hand. "This reeks. I'll be studying my own palm, instead of hearing about Harry. I get enough of him from other teachers."

Harry didn't realize that other teachers might speak of him, too. He looked down at his hand an waited patiently as Madame Trelawney traced the line that was supposed to be love. She stopped at where it jagged off, then curled slightly upwards. "Hmm."

" What is it?" Harry asked.

" It seems a friend loves you." She told him. " Or, you love a friend. It's really either one."

Hermione! I love Hermione! Harry thought deep inside himself, and hoped Madame Trelawney doesn't figure it out for herself. Though she probably knew it if she were any good of a psychic.

" I'm your friend, aren't I, Harry?" Lavender shouted out.

" Shut up, Lavender. We're all Harry's friends." Parvati smiled.

" Class! I thought I told you to work on your palms?" Madame Trelawney shot up to her feet, an angry scowl on her face. " Don't make me yell! I'm going to have a sore throat next week anyway; I don't need to make it come early from yelling. Parvati, by the way . . . it was your Aunt Mabel that threw out your diary two years ago, not your cousin. Don't be angry at your cousin."

" Aunt Mabel! I knew it!" Parvati gasped out.

" Oh, brother." Neville grumbled. He was fumbling angrily with his own palm, which seemed to make no sense to him at all. "Does this mean I'll be a head case? Look at the line that stands for my head."

The line was tapered off quite neatly in the center and then was continued off a bit ahead with a very crinkled line. Harry shrugged, but Draco spoke up:

" You're already a head case, Longbottom."

" Shut up, Malfoy." Harry burst out. " Do you have to ruin everyone else's mood because of yourself?"

" Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Potter. Have a problem?" Malfoy stood up, ready to cream Harry into mashed potatoes. Harry backed away. Malfoy walked closer to him, his sneering face close to Harry's: " Is there a problem, Potter? Not so brave now, are you?"

Parvati said: " Leave Harry alone!"

" Yeah! You're the one with a problem!" Neville announced.

" Class! This is palm reading, not a circus!" Professor Trelawney called out. " Concentrate on your palms, not your mind's worries."

" Will do." Harry ducked out of Malfoy's way and sat down back on his seat. The rest of the class, Malfoy kept staring at Harry with an evil grin on his face. Harry knew Malfoy wasn't going to let it off that easily - he'd beat Harry up, even, if he had to. *¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Lunchtime came abruptly after palm reading, and Neville nearly dragged Harry to the dining hall. "Why the rush?" Harry asked, as Neville finally let go of Harry's arm, in front of the Gryffindor table.

" Are you kidding me? Aren't you totally hungry?" Neville's freckled cheeks reddened in surprise.

" No, but that sure reminds me of someone." Harry rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. Quite a lot of students were there already, including Nick, Cho's cousin. Nick sat down directly in front of them, his big brown eyes peering intently at Harry.

" Harry Potter?" Nick asked, meekly.

" What is it?" Harry replied in question.

" Cho wanted me to tell you that. that she and all her friends are signing a petition to have you be the next Gryffindor captain. They're not even in Gryffindor, but they'd like you to be captain." Nick said.

" Really?" Neville exclaimed. " Harry, Cho must like you."

" Get serious!" Harry shot back. " Me? I'm younger, I'm skinny, and I wear glasses, for Heaven's sakes. I mean, her past boyfriend - Ceddric - was perfect." Harry felt a bit sad again.

Nick just stared at Harry for a while, then asked: " So! What do I tell her?"

" Tell her thanks." Neville burst out.

" Yeah, that sounds alright." Harry nodded.

" Okay." Nick walked over to Cho's table, looking quite tired of being Cho's messenger boy. Before Harry could think about Cho any longer, someone caught his eye in the corner of the room. It was the girl, Rebecca Crick, Cho's close friend from Beauxbaxton. She was wrapped tightly in an old gray shawl and her over-painted eyelashes (she supposedly went through a tube of mascara a month) were fluttering around anxiously from beneath the shawl. She was looking for someone, or something.

Then, Harry saw Rebecca look straight at him. Her eyes twinkled with delight, and she began to walk towards him. Harry quickly turned away, hoping that he was mistaken.

" Harry?" She asked, her accent thick.

" Oh! Hello." Harry turned around, nervous.

" I vas vatching you from across the room, and I vanted to introduce myself. My name is Rebecca Crick." She held her hand out.

Harry shook her hand and said: " I'm familiar with you, Rebecca."

" Good." Rebecca replied, then quickly added: " I mean, it is a surprise to me! Vhy vould the famous Harry Potter know me?"

" I dunno." Harry shrugged. " Hermione, my best friend, told me."

" Hermione Granger?" Rebecca's eyes narrowed. " She is the very smart girl, yes?"

" Yeah." Neville interrupted. " In fact, here she comes now!"

Hermione walked up to them, and Harry was astounded. She had gone to her room and put on makeup! Her hair was braided nicely, and she had put on some sparkly light brown eye shadow, and her hair had a little glitter in it, too.

" Hermione!" Harry said, softly, tenderly. " You look nice!"

" Thanks." She blushed and then looked at Rebecca. " Oh! Rebecca Crick! I've heard that you'll be some competition with me from Professor McGonagall."

" Yes, that's true." Rebecca said, stiffly. " I'm very intelligent, vhich is the main reason vhy I vas moved to this school."

" I see." Hermione replied, equally stiff. " I hope you know I keep my marks tip-top, so it'll be pretty hard to top me." She gave a nervous laugh.

" Vill it?" Rebecca asked, in a bored tone.

Hermione bit her lower lip, then said: "Yes, it will."

" Good. I like a challenge." Rebecca smiled and then turned to Harry. " I just vanted to introduce myself, and I'll be going. Perhaps we will see more of each other in this school."

" Perhaps." Harry replied.

Rebecca walked off, her shawl dragging on the floor. " She's going to regret that." Hermione said, pointing at the dragging shawl. " It'll get frayed."

" Well, it's her problem." Harry then changed the subject: "Hermione, do you think I'll be a good captain for the Gryffindor team, if I'm picked?"

" Sure!" Hermione assured him. " You're the best Quidditch player I'd ever seen, after all!"

" I bet you'll get pretty good, too, if you keep trying." Harry told her. " I wasn't supposed to, but I kind of watched you play while I was in Professor Trelawney's class, near the end of it."

" You watched me?" She looked embarrassed. " I'm not good now, right?"

" Hmm . . . you're definitely not make-the-team material, but its looking promising." Harry said, trying to think like Oliver Wood would think when he'd have to tell someone in fancy that they're no good.

" Thank you so much! I need the encouragement!" She exclaimed, and then hugged Harry tightly.

" Whoa." Harry said, softly, breathing in the soft shampoo smell of her hair before she let go.

" Students! May we have your attention!" Professor McGonagall said from the front of the room.

The already-full room of students turned to face the speaker. Professor McGonagall brushed a graying strand of her hair back from her face before continuing. " We are tallying up the ballots, and the nominees for captains of the teams (Hufflepuff and Gryffindor need replacements, after all) will be the following. Harry Potter for Gryffindor, Rebecca Crick for Hufflepuff, James Spinner for Hufflepuff, George Weasley or Fred Weasley for Gryffindor. the Weasleys will return in four days from a visit to their older brother, so if the winner is a Weasley, the Quidditch games will be postponed. Also . . . "

The list read on for two or three more people, then the speech ended with: " I hope you all have a good lunch and please consider to go vote for new captains. Thank you."

" Vote for Harry!" Someone shouted from the corner of the room.

Harry blushed and whispered to Hermione: " I didn't think people would want me to be captain so much."

" Are you kidding me? You're the best player this school had ever had! I think I told you that already!" Hermione replied, loudly. Harry had to back away from her, for he was leaning close, thinking she'd whisper right back to him.

The tables then burst open with food, and Neville exclaimed "Finally!" before digging in to a plate of spaghetti. The meal went by quickly, and then Harry and Hermione walked together to their next class: Defense against the Dark Arts, Fifth Year Special Class. For short, they called it 'Defense against the Dark Arts Five'.

They wondered who the teacher might be. Draco Malfoy stood before the classroom, his arms crossed. As Harry walked in, Draco pushed him in the back, saying: " Potter! We have a score to settle!"

" No we don't." Harry replied, stumbling away.

" Yes we do!" Malfoy pushed him up against the wall, his cold blue eyes inches from Harry's, and he licked his lips. His knee pushed down on Harry's thigh. " I'll beat you hard if you ever, ever say shut up to me again. Nobody, and I mean nobody gets away with saying shut up - - to - - me - - " With the last three words, Draco poked his finger hard at Harry's forehead. " Get that through your thick, scarred head."

" Harry, don't mind him." Hermione said, comfortingly, as Harry slowly moved away from Malfoy, who was now busy chasing a group of first years down the hall, with the assistance of Goyle. Crabbe had been taken to the nurse's office, for during lunch he dropped his wand and being an already malfunctioning wand, it zapped the Toothless Curse on him, leaving Crabbe's gums bare.

" I know. Draco's a jerk." Harry said, and then slid into the seat in the farthest, most in-back corner of the room. Hermione faithfully sat down beside him.

" I've been thinking that I should get my hair cut. It's getting too long." Hermione told him. " Do you think I should?"

" Since when do you care so much?" Harry asked. He didn't mean it in a mean way, but Hermione seemed offended.

" I'm a girl, Harry. Girls care." She replied.

" Sorry, Herm. It's just not like you. The same goes for Quidditch." He dug into his pocket. " But - - if you think of cutting your hair, here's a poem for you."

He put it down in front of her, and she read it:



You're perfect, just the way you are

You're lovely, a shining star!

If you ever feel that you aren't yet

Pretty or charming, don't you fret

I assure you that you are,

You're a lucky star

And you



The paper was ripped off right there. Hermione looked up at him and asked: "Where'd you get this?"

" I wrote it. I sent it to a magazine that Mrs. Weasley orders. They asked for people to write poems about self-esteem and I thought: what the heck. Why don't I try?" Harry grinned. " Do you like it?"

" It's really nice, but I don't have low self-esteem." She told him. " I just think I need to change my hair."

" Don't you get it, though? I like your hair the way it is." Harry told her. He had written the poem based on her, after all, and he'd carried it around with him for a while now since it made him feel a little bit better, too.

" You're really sweet, Harry." Hermione said, then turned away as the teacher walked into the room. It was Snape.

" Sit down! Everyone sit down!" Snape said, then smiled, and not a bitter smile but a happy one. " I will be the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher until we find a good substitute. Will everyone open his or her books to the appropriate page? Page 24, please."

The class cooperated, everyone scared stiff at the knowledge of another class entirely with Snape. Harry himself was the most horrified. The whole class, they simply read about senseless things, and they watched Snape beam and smile and speak softly to students and act totally unlike himself.

" That was so weird!" Hermione finally said, once Harry and she were walking away from the class.

" I know! Who'd have thought Snape could be nice?"

" Harry! Oh, Harry!" Someone called from down the hall.

Harry turned and saw Colin Creevey. Colin nearly ran over Hermione as he jumped up and down in front of Harry, shouting: "Harry! Harry! Oh, you're going to get so many people to vote for you! I'm signing a petition for you, too, Harry!"

" Gosh, calm down, kid." Hermione said. " I think that Dumbledor shouldn't let the kids drink cocoa for lunch. . . I mean, look at the results!"

" I know!" Harry whispered back.

" Well, gotta go - Potions next. I hear Snape's being nice today! Yippee!" Colin ran down the hall, the camera around his neck bouncing up and down. Suddenly, he braked, and turned to snap a picture of Harry. " I'll put your picture on the petition! Don't worry, Harry, you're a sure winner!"

" Don't worry, Harry! Ooh, Harry! Drool, drool, drool!" A sneering, drawling voice rang out. Harry knew right away that Malfoy was teasing Colin right down the hall.

" Let's go, Harry. Colin can take care of himself." Hermione said, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder.

" Yeah, you're right." Harry smiled at her.

" What class do you have next?" She asked him.

" I'm gonna have Herbology. I had my classes switched up a bit then the original order, so that Herbology would be last, since the plants always spew all that green gunk on me and then I walk around all gross." Harry said. Hermione laughed. "What about you?"

" I have Mathematics - advanced Mathematics." She grinned. " I'm so happy! Finally, a class that's a true challenge."

" I'll say." Harry was now standing in front of the Herbology room. " Well, I'll see you later, Hermione."

" Goodbye, Harry!" She waved to him, and he walked into Herbology.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

The class ended quickly, and Harry was free to do whatever he wished until dinner. He went up to his common room and began to do his homework.

Suddenly, Hedgwig burst into the room from the owlery. "Hedgwig!" Harry exclaimed.

The snowy owl settled on his desk and dropped a letter down before him. Hedgwig gave a low hoot and then scratched at the white envelope with his talons.

" Alright, alright, I'll check it out." Harry told his owl. Hedgwig sat patiently as Harry tried to open the letter. After struggling to tear it open, he pulled an old, thin and very yellowed paper out. When he held it up his eyes couldn't have seen something more joyous: a letter from Sirius!

He read:



" Dear Harry,

How is everything? If you must know, I'm fine, Buckbeak is

fine, and I hope you're doing well. My name might eventually be

cleared - and if it happens, then I will take you to live with me.

How would you like that? Perhaps another year or so, Harry, but

soon you will be able to never worry about the Dursleys again.

Sirius Black



Harry nearly burst with excitement and joy at the thought of another year and then. he'd be with his godfather, his closest adult friend, and also most trusted adult friend. Harry smiled and pulled out a paper to write back.



Dear Sirius,

Thank you for the letter. I'm all right; I'm glad

that you're doing well. I'll be absolutely delighted to get

rid of the Dursleys, once and for all! You don't know

how horrible they'd been lately to me.

I'm sending this with Hedgwig, but the next one

I'll just have to send with Sunny, Hermione's owl. I

hope it'll be trained enough by then, since last time,

Sunny came with a letter to me and gave it to Aunt

Petunia instead.

I still shudder.

They're electing a new Quidditch captain for

the Gryffindor team and I'm nominated. There's word

around the school that a majority of students is going

to vote for me. I hope I'll be a good captain, if I win.

Well, that's about all that's new. Thanks for

the letter!

Harry



Harry enveloped the letter and then told Hedgwig: "To Sirius, alright?"

The owl hooted happily and flew off out the window again. Finally, the little creature was getting to stretch its wings, truly and fully.