A/N: Does anybody remember me? Pleeeaaaassseeee remember me! J/K. Here I am, back after about four months and an exceptionally bad case of writer's block. I started writing this on my vacation, and then finally got around to typing it up. This is kind of different from my usual stuff - it's not in first person PoV, and it has a little more of a plot (which, considering the pathetic plots of my other stories, isn't saying much!) Please read and review!


Disclaimer: Nothing's mine (sniffle), everything is the brilliant, fabulous, wonderful J.K. Rowling's.



Harry Potter was a boy of skill. At the age of eleven, he was the youngest Quidditch player his school had seen in a century. Harry Potter was a boy of intelligence. At the age of twelve, he could speak to snakes and had twice outwitted the most deadly wizard the world had ever seen. Harry Potter was a boy of adventure. By the age of fourteen, he had survived four attacks of the same evil wizard, Lord Voldemort. So naturally, when Harry Potter felt a twinge of apprehension upon beginning his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was undoubtedly something to worry about.


As seventeen year old Harry Potter entered King's Cross station that September, he felt a bit of nervousness mixed in with the usual pang of excitement he felt at the beginning of each term. Danger was coming this year - he could tell. So what else is new, he thought wryly, as he pushed his heavy cart toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. He yawned and checked his watch as he went, trying to look natural - or as natural as one could look while pushing a cart loaded with a trunk and an owl at a solid metal wall. But as he reached the barrier, it melted around him and he stepped easily through it, grinning at the familiar platform nine and three quarters. Witches and wizards bustled about, saying good-byes, dragging trunks, greeting friends. Harry greeted many familiar faces as he wheeled his cart through the crowd, but he was looking for two in particular. He found them before long - they weren't hard to miss. At least not for him.


He saw Ron first - his freckled face searching over the crowd, his fingers running through his brilliant red hair. He broke into a grin when he saw Harry, and waved him over. Beside him stood Hermione - a sweet faced, frizzy haired girl, who was grinning broadly. They both ran toward him as he broke free of the crowd.


"There you are!" said Ron as Hermione hugged him. "We were worried when we couldn't find you."


"I'm fine," said Harry, high fiving Ron as Hermione let go of him.


"You've grown!" she exclaimed, standing back to get a better look, "you're nearly as tall as Ron now."


Harry grinned as he glanced up at Ron's six foot frame. "Not quite. You've grown, too," he added, surveying Hermione. It had been less than three months since he last saw her, but she looked a good two inches taller all the same. Ron grinned.

"What about me?" he asked with a look of mock insult, "have I grown at all?"


"No - thank goodness," said Hermione, and they all laughed. In all their seven years of friendship, Ron had towered over the other two. It was nice, Harry decided, to look up at him from a mere two inches below, rather than five.


Hermione checked her watch and glanced at the scarlet train. "We'd better get going, you know. The train leaves in fifteen minutes." The three of them loaded their trunks into an empty compartment and settled into their seats. Hermione pulled out the year's course books as usual, and Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances. Though Hermione had loosened up about schoolwork over the years, it didn't stop her from knowing the textbooks by heart before the term started. Knowing that it would be awhile before they managed to pry her away from the pages, Harry and Ron started up a lively conversation about Quidditch. Ron was convinced that the Chudley Cannons were up for the league title, while Harry argued that the local Hogsmeade team would beat them out.


After awhile, Harry straightened up. "I think I'll go have a look around," he told the others, "I haven't seen anyone in three months, except for the Dursleys." Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry slid the door of the compartment open and stepped into the hallway that stretched across the car. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but notice that he hadn't managed to shake off the queasy, nervous feeling he'd had ever since he'd entered the station. He went off in search of Dean and Seamus, and hoped that whatever lay ahead wasn't more than he was used to.


* * *


Ron glanced sideways at Hermione as Harry left the compartment. Her nose was still buried in her Transfiguration book, and she looked oddly peaceful as she brushed a stray curl out of her face.


"Hermione - " he began. She glanced up at him, sensing a joke.


"Don't even start," she told him, smiling, "I've had enough teasing from you to last me a lifetime."


"I wasn't going to tease you," Ron said indignantly, "I was only wondering why you were wasting our last ride to Hogwarts reading about the transformation of the ancient saber-toothed tigers."


She smiled ruefully and closed her book. "I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh. She set the book down beside her and went to stand in front of the compartment window. Ron joined her there, without speaking. Hermione sighed again. "I wish we had another year after this. I don't want this to be the end." The curl had fallen in front of her face again. Ron reached to push it back behind her ear, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.


"I know what you mean," he said quietly, putting his arm around her, "I don't want this to be the end either." They stood that way for several minutes, watching the greens, yellows and blues rush past the window.


"I wonder where Malfoy's got to," Ron said, trying to ease the tension a bit. "We haven't had our annual unwelcome visit from him yet." Hermione grinned up at him.


"Unwelcome is right. Though it is fun to kick him out - I've never found trying out new spells quite as much fun on anyone else."


"Mmm. The best was when we tried out the truth charm."


"Ugh. I think there were a few things in there we'd've been better off not knowing." She reached up and put her arms around his neck. Ron laughed down at her.


"Like the fact that Goyle had the hots for you?" She cringed at the memory. "Don't worry," he told her reassuringly, "you're too good for him."


"You'd better believe it," Hermione told him, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.


They sat back down on the compartment bench, Ron leaning sleepily against the wall, while Hermione picked up her Transfiguration book again and stretched her legs across Ron's lap, her back up against the side wall. They sat silently for awhile, until Hermione spoke. "Ron?"


"Hmm?"


"Were you….nervous coming here? I just have this creepy feeling - I've had it ever since I got here, and I can't seem to shake it off." Ron sat up straight and looked at Hermione in slight alarm.


"Yeah. I dunno what it is, but it's as if coming here was dangerous or something." Hermione glanced around uneasily.


"It's probably nothing to worry about."


Ron nodded. "We can ask Harry if he's worried, too." They both jumped slightly as the compartment door slid open. To their relief, it was Harry who stepped through.


"Ask me what?" he said, shutting the door carefully behind him. Hermione and Ron exchanged an anxious glance.


"Um, Harry…." Hermione began, searching for words, "did you feel kind of…nervous coming here? Because Ron and I both have this feeling that something's wrong." Harry looked uncomfortable.


"Um - yeah. I did. I do now. But - it can't be anything worse than usual, can it? I mean, we've survived every year before this."


"Yeah - maybe we're just paranoid." Ron smiled, and then hastily changed the subject. "How about a game of Exploding Snap?"


"You two go ahead," said Hermione absently, reaching for her History of Magic book, I think I'll read for awhile…."


Ron and Harry rolled their eyes.


* * *


Meanwhile, a certain someone stood outside their compartment door, grinning evilly.


"So - Potter's worried. Always a good sign." Draco Malfoy pushed a lock of pale blond hair out of his eyes. "He should be, too. He'll never guess what we've got in store for him this year."


The two hulking figures beside him grinned maliciously. They slunk silently back to their compartment, Draco patting the wand in his pocket affectionately as he went.


* * *


Harry entered his familiar dormitory much later and flopped onto his bed. It felt wonderful to be back. Already, he had stuffed himself with delicious food from the feast, insulted Draco Malfoy, and teamed up with Ron in teasing Hermione endlessly about being Head Girl. She had stormed up to bed in outrage (though not before she'd given them both a hug good-night). Now he lay spread-eagled across his bed, wondering about the only thing that had bothered him the entire day - the queasy feeling he'd had in King's Cross station. And Ron and Hermione were getting it too….he shivered slightly. There was something he hadn't told them when they'd questioned him in the train compartment. His scar had burned.


It hadn't bothered him at all - not until he'd reentered the compartment after visiting with Dean and Seamus. He hadn't told them because - well - they were Ron and Hermione. They over-reacted to that sort of thing. And he didn't have a scrap of suspicion toward either of them in his mind - perhaps Lord Voldemort had gone on a killing spree at that moment and Harry had gotten a blast of it. His scar always hurt whenever the Dark Lord inflicted pain on another - it burned in hatred. Perhaps that was the reason. It was certainly possible - and quite likely. But then, it had been bothering him all day…He'd have to keep an eye out for the headlines in the Daily Prophets that Hermione always had delivered.


Enough thinking for one night. Exhausted and stuffed to bursting from the feast, Harry pulled off his glasses, rolled over, and immediately fell asleep.


* * *


Hermione met up with Ron and Harry in the common room the next morning, and the three of them headed down to breakfast together. Breakfast was quite an interesting experience that morning - it included quite a bit of teasing Hermione about her schedule, and a cinnamon roll aimed skillfully at Ron's head. It also included the Daily Prophet Hermione had put in a subscription for, something Harry seemed unusually interested in.


"Hermione - can I have a quick look?"


"Of course, Harry," she said, confused, but handing him the paper nonetheless. "Why?"


"No reason," he said nonchalantly. He began to scan the headlines. Hermione turned to exchange a puzzled glance with Ron, but the look she got in return was a very disgruntled one. She sighed as he finished mopping the frosting off his forehead.


"I'm sorry about - that," she told him. He shrugged, and then broke into a grin.


"I suppose I deserved it."


"Damn right. But I love you anyway." She turned back to Harry as he refolded the paper and set it down on the table, wearing an expression of relief and worry mixed together. "What's with you and the Daily Prophet, Harry?"


"Wha - oh, nothing," he said quickly, reaching for the syrup.


"You sure?" said Hermione, picking up the paper and leafing through it. "Anything interesting?"


"No." Harry's voice was muffled by a mouthful of pancakes.


"Maybe not in there," said Ron, examining his schedule, "but on here it says that Transfiguration starts in -" he checked his watch "- seven minutes and twenty-three seconds."


"It does?" said Hermione in alarm, "oh - it takes that long to get there! Come on!" She polished off her orange juice, threw the newspaper into her bag, and dragged Harry and Ron out of the Great Hall.


A/N #2: Okay, stupid so far….I have no idea where this is going, which is never a good sign:-Þ Please review - I want to know if I should keep going.