So the first chapter of This Wondrous Hope is here! Sorry to anyone who was eagerly waiting, but just like I Do Recall I wanted to finish the entire of the book before I started parsing it out, so I won't be forced to stop in the middle.

For anyone who's forgotten what happened in I Do Recall... *Takes deep breath.* Everyone woke up in 1991 essentially knowing the plot of Harry Potter and once people actually believed it, they set about to change said plot, no matter what side they were on. This resulted in Ron's death via Pettigrew, with Percy blaming himself, Lockhart and Rita signing up as Voldemort's servants, the death eaters and future death eaters getting arrested, which was a big deal since Draco was only eleven when he went to Azkaban, Sirius getting released and going to therapy, more death both at Halloween and when the teachers killed the basilisk, Lockhart starting a group of vigilantes to drive a divide in the wizarding world, this magical creatures rights campaign, and probably a couple other things I'm forgetting, but you get the gist.

I don't own Harry Potter.

July 3, 1992.

Harry visited today. I had begun to fear he was only interested in my friendship during the school year, that perhaps he wasn't even truly my friend. He disabused me of that notion fairly quickly, though I'm not sure how he figured out I was so insecure. "Neville," he said frankly, "You do realize my other best friend is Hermione, right, and that she's taken to spending time with the other Ravenclaw girls? At least unless the conversation turns to plants, I can generally understand what you're talking about."

Which reminds me, I need to pick out a birthday present for him. Is it weird to give another boy a potted rose? Because I've been practising the spells and potions that will make a blue rose cultivar, since traditional Muggle horticulture techniques can't do it. It's probably weird, and Harry wouldn't get it, anyway. Maybe I'll just get him a Venus Flycatcher. I remember him being… not the neatest individual when we shared a dorm.

I was so worried Gran wouldn't be nice to him. I mean, he's the savior of the wizarding world, right? She has to be nice to him! But still, she is Gran…

She looked him up and down when he came in, and I held my breath. At least he'd gotten rid of those old baggy clothes his cousins gave him. He'd come by Floo, though, so his hair was ruffled and soot brushed across one cheek. Gran looked him up and down, pursed her lips, cast a spell to flatten his hair, and announced he'd do. I don't think I'd ever been so relieved since the time when Great Uncle Algie dropped me out the window and it turned out I wasn't a Squib.

I don't really have friends over often. Gran scares them.

Harry wasn't even insulted by the whole hair thing. He actually asked me if she'd take offense if he requested she teach him the spell- his hair had stayed down for the entire visit and he thought it might be nice to actually be able to look neat when he started dating. I hedged for a bit, but she was actually very informal when he asked. Sometimes I wonder if she'd rather have Harry as a grandson than me. Of course she would, what am I saying?

Harry did teach me to fly today. I was hesitant, because while I'd been made to continue lessons until I could at least totter along in the air like an old man with a Cleansweep 1, it was a painful affair of hugging the broom for dear life and ended one time out of every ten in me either crashing into something or falling off said broom, but he was remarkably patient with me, getting me to relax a little by, rather ironically, talking about plants while we were in the air. "So I've never understood the distinction between magical plants and creatures. I mean if you look at mandrakes-"

"We actually define it by whether they photosynthesis, er, get their energy from light or not. Bowtruckles look like plants, but they eat insects, so they're creatures, and technically certain blood-eating plant look-alikes are, too, whereas dryads are plants even though they're very mobile because they only need sunlight…"

Anyway, it was a very important discussion, which I'm sure Harry wasn't listening to at all. So I didn't realize I'd been flying, and reasonably skillfully at that, until about an hour had passed, at which point I looked down, may have shrieked a little, and tightened my grip on my broom. Harry talked me down before I could crash into a cliff from fear, and pointed out I could fly just fine, I'd just been overthinking it.

I suppose that applies to my improvement in potions, too. I will never be a Quidditch star, nor potions master, but at least I can travel by broom and brew a Pepper-Up potion without killing myself.

And I had a lot of fun today. To be honest, I'm still waiting for the catch.

Harry thought perhaps this was the best summer he'd ever had in his life, though he didn't say that to Lupin, who still seemed half-worried that he'd question Sirius's absence. He'd only had to spend a couple weeks with the Dursleys before coming here.

He'd visited Neville and Hermione plenty over the summer. Hermione had even introduced him to all her Ravenclaw friends. Of course, Padma he already knew a little, and Sue Li acknowledged him with only a little wave before lying down on the grass to watch a butterfly. Morag simply squeaked and ran off when he introduced himself.

He had a moment of fleeting panic, wondering if she had a crush on him, because that was how Ginny used to act in the old world, before Hermione sighed and said, "She does that with everyone. Just start talking with her about potion stirring theory or something and she'll come out of her shell." Harry decided to take her word for it, and wondered if that was why he had almost no memory of her or Sue Li in the old world. Incidentally, he had no interest in potion stirring theory. He wondered why exactly anyone would.

But a little niggling feeling didn't allow him to fully relax. He hadn't received any contact from the Weasleys. With Ron gone… But he'd thought of himself as part of their family, and the part of his mind where he was again a lonely little boy in a cupboard under the stairs was sad to see that gone. He'd thought that at least Ginny would write eventually. Ginny, who had leveled a gaze of startlingly fierce anger upon him before he boarded the Hogwarts Express. Ginny, whom he hadn't seen nor heard from since.

Ginny, who he remembered as a stunning red-haired woman, fierce as any lioness, clever in a tight spot, and more stubborn than him, which was saying something. He wondered how she remembered him. He doubted it was as the child he'd admit he was now.

He wondered if they'd still fall in love this time around. So much else had changed, and he did remember being an idiot about Ginny's crush until quite some time into his schooling.

He'd simply have to talk to her when they went back to Hogwarts. They couldn't keep avoiding each other.

The doorbell to the tiny apartment he shared with Lupin in Muggle London (since only the most rundown places in Wizarding London would rent to werewolves) rang. He sprang up and hurried over to the door.

Sirius frowned and squinted at Harry. "I swear you grow every time I see you."

"You see me nearly every day," Harry pointed out, smiling. Lupin and Sirius (he was trying to get out of the habit of calling Remus by his surname, really, but it wasn't easy) hadn't really explained why he was staying with only Remus or why he wasn't staying in Grimmauld Place, but Sirius visited so often Harry didn't bring the issue up. He wondered, of course, but Sirius got really fidgety every time he talked about it. Maybe he just wanted some freedom, after last time when he could barely leave the house.

"Exactly. Sooner or later you'll be as tall as Hagrid, I swear. Did he get as tall as Hagrid, Remus?"

Remus emerged from the kitchen with a long-suffering sigh. "Of course he didn't. Use your brain for a moment, Sirius." Before Sirius could argue, he said, "He was taller."

Harry leaned back on the raggedy couch from the side of the road Remus had found to replace the expensive, but profoundly uncomfortable, one Sirius bought them in the beginning of the summer, and enjoyed the presence of his family.

He could get used to being normal.

Oliver Wood breathed in the scent of Penelope's perfume, a heady floral, tinged with their sweat and the sweet aroma of crushed grass. "You know," he murmured, rolling over in the grass languidly to face her, "I really do have to be getting to the Ministry if I'm not going to miss my Floo time." International travel was only legal through Ministry Floos so they could keep smuggling to a minimum; of course criminals didn't listen to those laws, and there was always the occasional Muggleborn leaving and entering the country by plane or boat, but Oliver saw no reason to do so himself after Penelope lectured him for an hour about the law.

She'd been so shocked to find out he was a Muggleborn. He'd stalked off in a huff until she came to him and explained she didn't mean she didn't like him because he was Muggleborn or anything like that, just that she was surprised a Muggleborn liked Quidditch so much. In her experience Muggleborns never did take a fancy to the sport, though she'd added hastily that of course that was a generalization.

He hadn't told her half his obsession with the sport came from hoping to fit in with those who grew up wizards. (His type A personality and obsession with sports before Hogwarts didn't help either, of course. He'd been told only six months before his Hogwarts letter that he might go to the Olympics for figure skating someday, before he gave it up for magic.)

Penelope sighed, bringing him back to the last moment he'd have with his girlfriend until the holidays. "Do you think they'll have a problem with you being Muggleborn there? Durmstrang is a proud school, and very… Dark."

"I don't intend to tell them, Penelope. But if they do find out, I'm sure they're not going to bully a Quidditch player bringing honor to their school." He immediately tried to push memories of Slytherin hexes out of his head. He hadn't brought all that much honor to Hogwarts, anyway, and he didn't think Durmstrang had rival houses the same way Hogwarts did. It would be fine.

"I'm happy for you." She ran nervous fingers through his hair, tousling it. "I do wish you weren't leaving, though."

"I'll be back as often as I can be," he promised, and then she silenced him with a kiss and he lost himself in that for a while, until the first drop of water landed atop his head. He glanced up at the grey sky and scowled. "Bloody rain."

Penelope stood, brushing dirt off her dress Oliver's sister had bought her for wearing so she'd fit in when visiting him in his Muggle home. "Don't swear. You knew it wasn't great weather for cloud-watching, anyway, and you need to get inside to go to the Ministry."

He stuck his tongue out at her before taking her hand and walking back to the house. "I'm going to miss you, sweetheart."

"And I you."

"Penelope?" Oliver asked, pausing underneath the eaves of the barn where the rain could not reach.

"Yes?"

He frowned out at the rain. "Will you look after him? He never did seem to recover." He didn't need to say who, he knew. Percy Weasley was, after all, indirectly the boy who'd brought them together.

Penelope laughed a little, though it had no humor in it. "Of course, Oliver. I still care." She paused, watching the rain drip off Oliver's nose. "Do you know, I'd wondered before we met again on 9 and ¾ if he'd get over his poncey attitude earlier this time around. I never thought he'd go so far in the opposite direction."

"If he asked, would you…"

She kissed him again. "Oliver? I chose you, both this time and last time. Percy's just my exboyfriend and hopefully not my ex-friend. Now, let's get you off to Bulgaria."