Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.
CHAPTER 1: New Beginnings
It was a blazingly hot afternoon in mid-July. The once pristine lawns of Privet Drive were dry and barren, and the hydrangeas by the window were parched and wilting against the cracked dirt. The streets were completely empty. The silence was disturbed only by the sound of the dusty window glass creaking in their frames at the slightest indication of a dry breeze.
All in all, Privet Drive looked nothing like it had a year ago. Looking out his bedroom window, Harry slowly surveyed the neighborhood. The last time he had been looking down on the graveled drive, he was watching the Dursleys' car swing down the road, turning right onto Wisteria Walk and disappearing into the setting sun. At the time, he hadn't thought that he would ever be back in his bedroom of seventeen years. He wasn't even sure he would ever see the Dursleys again—not that he particularly minded, to be honest.
Harry glanced down the street expectantly. After the war had ended, he had borrowed Pigwidgeon to send a note to the Dursleys notifying them that it was safe to return to Privet Drive, where he was staying alone until the Weasleys returned from their visit to Bill and Fleur's cottage in Cornwall. Although most of his interactions with the Dursleys had been marked by intense dislike, Harry felt inclined to make sure they returned home safely. After all, they had technically kept up their part of the deal under Dumbledore's orders, even if their methods of doing so had been anything but pleasant.
Harry skimmed over the letter in his hands. Several weeks after Harry sent his message, Uncle Vernon had given his response:
Boy,
DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING OR BLOW ANYTHING UP. No funny business, you hear? DO NOT send any more messages with this stupid, ruddy owl—IT NEARLY BIT OFF MY FINGER. We will be back from Switzerland around four p.m. on July 30.
Vernon Dursley.
"Good work, Pigwidgeon," Harry said, thinking of Uncle Vernon's big, purple face swollen in frustration as he battled with the small owl.
Harry heard a rumbling in the distance as the Dursley's dark Vauxhall Chevette rode up the street. Uncle Vernon's beady eyes and bushy black moustache were visible behind the car's front window. He could see Aunt Petunia stretching her abnormally long neck trying to catch a glimpse of the other houses and muttering under her breath, most likely about the abominable state of the un-mowed lawns and overgrown hedges. Dudley was engrossed in munching on the chocolate bar that was barely visible under his thick fingers.
So much had changed in the last year, it was a small comfort to Harry that the predictable Dursleys—as horrible as their predictability could be—who treasured their very normal lives had been completely unchanged by the recent events.
Turning up onto the driveway, the car came to a stop with a grunt. Uncle Vernon rolled down the window and stuck his thick head out first, looking around as if he expected someone to jump out and attack them any minute.
"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, calling from the window.
Uncle Vernon leapt out of his seat, banging the back of his head against the car frame and cursing angrily as a result.
"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia squealed. "Are you alright?"
"NO! STUPID BOY!" Uncle Vernon shrieked as he stepped out of the car. "WERE YOU TRYING TO GET ME KILLED?"
"Sorry," Harry said automatically. "Good to know you made it back safely," he continued quickly.
Uncle Vernon grunted in response, eyes fixed on Harry suspiciously as he pulled his bulky suitcase from the trunk and towards the house.
"Come on Diddykins," Aunt Petunia crooned, as she smoothed Dudley's hair. "We're finally home."
Harry snickered at the fact that Dudley was eighteen and still being called pet names by his mother, but luckily Aunt Petunia couldn't see him as she was already through the door, Dudley trudging behind her.
Upon entering the house, Aunt Petunia cried in dismay at the sight of dust on the usually spotless furniture and gleaming floors. By the time Harry had made his way down the stairs and into the living room, she had already recovered and tied her frilly apron around her waist and was attacking the kitchen tile with an offensively pink vacuum cleaner.
Uncle Vernon sank down on an oversized armchair, the cushions squeaking under his weight.
"So Lord Voldywart and his—whatsit?—Dismembers are finally gone," Uncle Vernon said loudly. "Guess that means your lot shouldn't be showing up 'round these parts anymore?"
"That's the general idea," Harry replied. "There shouldn't be any more attacks on Muggles now that Voldemort is gone for good."
"It's fine time someone put an end to all this hocus pocus," Uncle Vernon roared overenthusiastically, as he waved the remote toward the television set, turning it on with a crackle from lack of use.
Dudley lumbered in and collapsed on the sofa next to Uncle Vernon, still licking the chocolate from his fingers. "So you won't be staying?" he asked.
"Guess not," Harry said. "I figured I should make sure you all made it back here. I'll be staying with the Weasleys'; they'll be expecting me soon."
"It's good you came back," Dudley said quietly, before turning pink at the admission as if surprised that the words had come from his mouth, making him look even more like an overgrown pig than usual.
"I'll send a card for Christmas." Harry looked at his surroundings one last time. "Well, I guess I'll be off."
As he made his exit, with Uncle Vernon and Dudley sprawled on the couch and the faint sound of the news buzzing in his ears, no house-elves or dementors or giants on motorbikes in sight, Harry thought that Number Four, Privet Drive had not been so normal, so unadulteratedly Dursleyish, for a long while. People were starting to come out of their houses following the Prime Minister's announcement that it was safe to do so. Soon the lawns of Privet Drive would be just as pristine as they had always been, prior to the war.
Harry was halfway to the staircase when Aunt Petunia suddenly reached out and tapped Harry on the shoulder awkwardly before immediately retracting her hand, as if prolonged physical contact with him was dangerous. She muttered something softly and Harry could barely catch her words as he strained to hear her.
"Stay safe, Harry."
Harry looked at her in surprise and Aunt Petunia hastily averted her gaze, her lips pursed in concentration, busying herself by wiping down the counter which was already gleaming.
"Right. Thanks Aunt Petunia."
Harry ran up the staircase to his bedroom. Besides the thin layer of dust covering the window and the cobwebs that had started to gather in the corners, the room was just as unusually neat as Harry remembered it being when he had left a year ago, having already emptied out most of his belongings. He sat down on his bed and saw Dumbledore peering up at him from page ten of the Daily Prophet, his blue eyes bright behind his half-moon spectacles.
Harry picked up the article carefully, folded it in quarters and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans, next to the most recent copy of the newspaper. The bold black letters of the front-page headline were just visible:
SHACKLEBOLT NAMED MINISTER OF MAGIC
Long-time Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt has succeeded the late Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a society founded by respected wizard Albus Dumbledore, which played a significant role in the ultimate victories of the Second Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts. His appointment has been well-received by the Wizarding community.
Shacklebolt's first actions as Minister of Magic include banning the use of Dementors in guarding Azkaban, which is currently being watched by goblins. He has also announced plans for the internal reorganization of the Ministry of Magic, starting with the abolition of the "Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission" post, previously occupied by Dolores Umbridge.
As of press time, Shacklebolt has been unavailable for a full-length interview. Shacklebolt's representatives have stated that he has currently been busy working with professors at Hogwarts on a plan that is yet to be unveiled. The only information that has been released is that slight changes to the curriculum can be expected for the upcoming school year. (ctd. Shacklebolt, page 5).
As Harry shoved both articles deeper into his pocket to prevent them from falling out, his gaze fell upon a pure white feather that had floated near the foot of the bed, stopping at his feet. The feather was contrasted starkly against its dark surroundings. Harry bent down and picked it up, turning it in his hands wistfully as he thought about Hedwig, his snowy owl and faithful companion who had lost her life last summer. She had been his only true connection to the Wizarding world during the unbearably long stretches between the end of the school year and the start of the next one.
His train of thought was broken as a giant brown blur swooped down and crashed into the closed window. Harry quickly moved to let the owl in.
After a slight struggle, the owl succeeded in squeezing through and dropping the letter it was carrying, sending the sizable stack of newspapers on Harry's desk flying in the process and proceeding to cluck impatiently as it waited for Harry to read the message.
Harry,
I hope you've made it back to your aunt and uncle's home safely. I'm unsure regarding what you've decided on for your living situation, so for the time being, the school owl will be using your former address unless notified otherwise. A second owl should be arriving with your formal letter shortly.
Professor McGonagall
As if on cue, a smaller owl appeared bearing a yellow envelope addressed to Mr. H. Potter, the Bedroom Upstairs at 4 Privet Drive, in familiar emerald ink. Tearing open the envelope, Harry pulled out the yellowish parchment and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Dear Mr. Potter,
Please take the time to read the information thoroughly regarding changes that will be taking place at Hogwarts School.
The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the Department of Magical Education have worked with the professors at Hogwarts School to determine the requirements for graduation following the unusual circumstances in the last academic year. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations were postponed and many students were unable to complete their wizarding education in full.
After careful evaluation of coursework offered in the previous year, the current Ministry has come to the conclusion that some professors from the last Hogwarts administration were unqualified to teach and caused disturbances to the overall education of students. (All students enrolled in Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, taught by Amycus and Alecto Carrow respectively, did not fulfill the content standards adopted by the Ministry under Educational Provision for Magic No. 5234 and 6279). To equip young wizards and witches with the necessary skills and knowledge to use their magic wisely and appropriately, to the best of their ability, several adjustments have been made to the curriculum for the upcoming school year.
We are pleased to inform you that Hogwarts is inviting all previous seventh year students to return for an additional year of preparation before taking the appropriate examinations for graduation. Graduates will receive a certification of magical excellence, without which, licenses for certain careers (list available in Ministry's POO: Pamphlet of Official Occupations) will be unobtainable. Fifth year students, if prepared, may choose to take the O.W.L. examination at the beginning of the year for placement into sixth year courses, or may otherwise elect to take additional fifth year courses before testing.
The Ministry and Hogwarts staff believe that the provisional plan of action and revisions made to the curriculum will be largely beneficial to all students and will allow Hogwarts to uphold its tradition of providing the finest wizarding education.
The list of necessary books and equipment for seventh year students is enclosed. Equipment may vary as a result of course selection.
Term begins on September 1.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Harry absentmindedly smoothed over the purple wax seal on the front of the envelope, his forefinger running over the lion, eagle, badger, and snake, as he considered the contents of the letter.
He couldn't believe that he was going back to Hogwarts. Despite the fact that he had only missed school for a year, it felt like ages since he had boarded the Hogwarts Express, sat in a compartment with friendly, familiar faces, purchased Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from the witch pushing the lunch trolley.
A warm feeling rose in his stomach as he thought about the school engraved in his memory. Harry could still see the massive castle rising above sloping lawns and the Gryffindor common room decorated with rich velvet banners of red and gold, could remember the candles and conversation that lit up the Great Hall. Although he had missed it terribly, Harry was actually glad that he hadn't been at Hogwarts last year; he wouldn't have been able to endure slowly watching the Death Eaters suck the life out of the closest thing he had ever had to a real home.
Unlike most normal teenagers, as soon as school ended, Harry couldn't wait for the next term to begin. There were undoubtedly some classes he didn't remember too fondly - he hadn't quite forgotten the Grim incident with Trelawney or Potions with the Slytherins - and several ridiculously tedious and difficult assignments that he would have preferred avoiding, but his happiest memories had been at Hogwarts. The prospect of another year at school with Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna, without having to worry about the threat of Voldemort, made Harry feel as if he had just caught the winning Snitch in the Quidditch World Cup, passed all of his N.E.W.T.s, and won a year-long supply of Felix Felicis all in one day.
As Harry re-read the letter, he suddenly noticed that there was another message written right below the printed letter in neat cursive script. Squinting to see the words, Harry tilted the letter to catch the sunlight slanting in through the window.
Harry, I expect to see you at Hogwarts this fall if you still have plans of becoming an Auror. Also, I have a special request, which I will discuss with you when you arrive at school.
What was the "special request"? What could McGonagall possibly want from him? Harry mulled over the possibilities in his head. As much as he liked Hagrid, Harry secretly hoped it would have nothing to do with the Forbidden Forest; he'd had enough traumatizing experiences there to last him for the next decade. He didn't think she would assign him to duties with Filch either; seeing as the school year hadn't even started yet; there was no way he could have already gotten detention.
Harry thought back to the first time McGonagall had pulled him from class with a request, to introduce him to the then current captain of the Quidditch team, Oliver Wood. Perhaps McGonagall would be reinstating him to the Quidditch team? Harry could only hope.
All of a sudden, a loud cracking sound split the air. Before Harry could turn around, his line of vision was filled with bushy brown hair. Hermione flung her arms around him and beamed excitedly.
"HARRY! It's so good to see you! What have you been up to? Have you gotten your letter yet? We just got ours, I'm so excited and I think it's such a great idea - thank goodness Kingsley is the new Minister of Magic - of course I was already planning to go back to school, I've already done some reading ahead and the seventh Standard Book of Spells has so many interesting techniques - there were just so many seventh year courses that we didn't have the chance to take, and -"
"Hermione, you're going to suffocate if you don't take a breath," Ron said, grinning. "So how are you mate?"
"Alright," Harry replied, grinning back. "It feels strange to be back here after everything that happened this year."
"This place has always been strange," Ron laughed. "Muggle places in general. We were just at Hermione's place, went there straight from Bill and Fleur's. I never understood why the paintings don't move -"
"Oh yes! Harry, I was able to find my parents in Australia - thank goodness they were nearby, they were having dinner with another family with the last name Wilkins, thought they were relatives you see - they were so confused when I suddenly showed up - but I was able to use Side-Along Apparition to get them back home just before I reversed the memory charm!"
"Bloody brilliant, this one," Ron said, making Hermione flush pink. "We just came from London since Hermione's parents moved back in."
"And we'll be back in London soon to buy supplies in Diagon Alley," Hermione said excitedly. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
"I need to help out George for a bit anyway," Ron said. "There's some great new stuff at the shop, Fred and George had some excellent new ideas before … yeah," he ended lamely, looking a little lost. Although he assured everyone he was fine, George still hadn't quite adjusted to life after Fred's death in the war. It had always been "Fred and George." They had always been pals, pranksters, and partners in crime, and it was undoubtedly difficult to lose his other half, business partner, and best friend all at once. The entire Weasley family and those close to them were still suffering the loss of a brave son who was thoroughly Gryffindor to the end.
"I'll help too," Harry offered. "We have plenty of time until school starts."
"Thanks mate," Ron said, smiling. "Well, Mum's probably expecting us. Should we get going? We can actually apparate out of here this time!"
Harry could already see the wooden house with chimneys dotting the roof every which way, nested between high trees.
"Let's go!"
A loud crack cut through the room for the second time that day, and the Golden Trio was gone.