Harry angled his textbook to better catch the light of the recently lit lanterns of the Hogwarts Express and examined the open page. It showed a moving illustration of the wand movement of the supersensory charm, typically a part of seventh-year Charms material.

The book was the fifth-year Defense textbook, and the supersensory charm was hardly the only seemingly out-of-place spell it contained. It was a piecemeal mixture of defensive spells, charms, transfiguration techniques, and subjects that defied categorization, standing in stark contrast to the organized textbooks Harry was used to.

Harry had spent the last hour of the ride to Hogwarts marveling at the many creative uses the author had come up with for seemingly innocent spells. Hermione, sitting across from him, was reading her own book, a Muggle novel, while to his left, Ron leaned against the wall, asleep. Hermione had cast a silencing charm to quiet his snoring.

Glass shattered loudly in the corridor of the chain, and Ron woke with a jerk and looked around in confusion. Hermione quickly stepped outside to investigate the noise. She had been taking her new role as prefect very seriously.

Ron squinted at Harry sleepily and said, "We haven't even started class yet, mate, what're you reading that for?"

"This isn't a normal defense textbook," Harry said, looking up from the page. "Moody lent me a copy of the fifth-year textbook he assigned last year, and this has loads of stuff that isn't in there. You know there's a spell just to vanish shoes? For some reason it's supposed to work really well in a duel."

Ron snorted. "You sound like Hermione. You decided to become a model student now they made you Prefect?"

"You don't see me out there telling off first years, do you?"

Ron's reply was lost as Hermione stepped back inside and sat down. "Fred and George," she said in response to their inquiring looks. "They're selling fireworks. Some first years decided to try one out on the train and broke a window. I told Fred and George to wait at least until they got to Hogwarts to sell the rest of those, but I doubt they'll listen."

"They're getting a bit desperate," Ron said, sitting up and adjusting his rumpled clothing. "Only got one more year of school, and they don't have enough funds to start their joke shop when they graduate. I reckon they're going to try to produce like mad this year to bring in enough to get premises."

"Wonderful," Hermione said. "Can't they get a loan? This year I'd prefer not to have to deal with exploding baubles, or vanishing parchment, or whatever else they've been cooking up."

"Can't be done, Hermione," Ron said dispiritedly. "I talked to them about it a few weeks ago. They said Gringotts doesn't do loans, so they'd have to find someone willing to take the risk. Can you imagine Lucius Malfoy investing his money in something like that?"

"I suppose not." Hermione glanced at the door. "Speak of the devil!"

Draco Malfoy pulled open the door with a bang and stepped inside, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "I wouldn't think of myself as a devil," he said, smirking, "but I appreciate the compliment."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a Muggle expression, Malfoy."

"Then I'm glad I don't know it." He turned to Harry. "Potter, been paying attention to the news lately?"

"Unlike you, Malfoy, I have better things to do with my time. Now why don't you get out, so I can get back to doing them?"

"You know Potter, you might want to spend some more of your precious time attending to something actually important. There's going to be some major changes 'round here not too long from now, and I expect Father'll be at the center of it. They'll start actually teaching some respect to certain … members of the wizarding community." He smiled nastily at Hermione.

"You're Father got sacked off the Board of Governors, Malfoy, in case you've forgotten," Hermione said, glaring at him. "Maybe he'll have enough influence to get you some passing O.W.L.s, god knows, you need the help, but I wouldn't even bet on that."

"I think you'll find you're misinformed." With one final smirk, he walked away. Ron slammed the door behind him.

"We really need to figure out some good locking spells," Ron said, examining the door handle.

"You can't do that," said Hermione with a tinge of annoyance. "It's against school rules."

"So?"

"Harry and I are Prefects, Ron, and…"

Harry blocked out their argument and returned to his book. It was truly incredible how much was stuffed inside – in a single chapter he noticed basic disguise spells, obscure countercurses, simple nonmagical defensive techniques, and advanced protective charms. It didn't include dangerous incantations, but it supplied fascinating descriptions of many curses.

He greatly regretted not buying his books at Diagon Alley earlier in the summer, as he would have had something to distract himself with during the final few weeks of his stay at the Burrow. Living with the Weasleys was infinitely preferably to spending the whole summer with the Dursleys, but you could only play so much pick-up Quidditch before it began to lose its appeal.

Harry was nearing the end of the chapter when Hermione noticed what he was reading and asked him excitedly, "Is that the Defense textbook? It looked really interesting!"

"Yep," Harry said, closing the book and putting it away. "It's not at all what I thought it would be."

"I know! There was that chapter on the use of animation in battle, how you can actually give a modicum of intelligence to inanimate objects. I wonder who assigned it. Moody's not coming back this year, right?"

"No," Harry said, sighing. "He wanted to get back to his 'quiet retirement.' I tried to get him to stay, but he wasn't having it."

"He's not worried about the supposed curse on the Defense position, is he?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea. It's possible he knows something we don't."

"I can't imagine Dumbledore wouldn't do something if the position were actually cursed," Hermione said, frowning.

"Maybe he can't," Ron said. "He's not all powerful. He couldn't find the Chamber of Secrets, you know."

Hermione looked disconcerted and didn't reply. Of the three of them, she had been most affected by the series of attacks that had taken place their second year. The professors had lured out and killed the perpetrator, a Basilisk, but they had never determined the location of the so-called "Chamber of Secrets" where the snake had been hibernating. Several students, Harry included, had gotten detention for searching the castle after curfew trying to solve the mystery.

The Hogwarts Express began to slow, so the three of them started putting away their things and got ready to disembark. Moments later, Harry stepped out into the cool air and took in the sight of the station contentedly. He noticed Hagrid calling out from the side – "First years over here! You four, this way!" Hagrid glanced toward the path to the carriages and Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved. Hagrid eyes fixed on someone to their left, and he called in that direction, "Nope, you're coming with me too, first-timers get to see the castle from the boats!"

They looked at each other, shrugged, and queued to get a carriage to the castle, joined by Ginny and an odd friend of hers, Luna Lovegood.

"You're the Boy Who Lived," Luna told Harry when she saw him. "You would be able to see the Thestrals, I suppose." She gestured vaguely toward the front of a carriage.

"The what?"

"Thestrals!" Luna said, looking surprised. "They're invisible to most people. Like Wrackspurts. You can only see Wrackspurts under a full moon while standing on your head."

Harry looked at Ginny, unsure how to react. She was trying and failing to keep a straight face, which wasn't any help. Harry finally decided to say, "Who can see Thestrals, Luna."

"Why, people who have seen death, of course."

Slightly perturbed, Harry said, "And you think I've seen death?"

"Your mother did die in front of you." Luna paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Perhaps you had your eyes closed." She turned away to climb into a carriage.

Harry looked to see whether the others had followed the conversation better than he had, but all three were looking at him with concern. After a moment he realized why, and said, annoyed, "I'm not that fragile. I know my parents are dead."

"We don't think your fragile, Harry…" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"C'mon, let's get in. We're holding up the line."

A few minutes later they walked into the Entrance Hall, and Ginny split away to go sit with some friends in her year. Harry, Ron, and Hermione started to follow, but they were intercepted by Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter," she said, "a quick word, if you please, before the sorting?"

Harry paused a moment in surprise, before saying "Sure, Professor." Glancing at his friends, he said, "You guys go ahead. Save me a seat." They looked at him curiously but headed into the Great Hall. Harry followed Professor McGonagall into a vacant side corridor.

"Mr. Potter…" McGonagall stopped and frowned, uncharacteristically uncertain. She composed herself, and said, "Mr. Potter, I want to warn you about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. I try never to speak ill of a colleague, but sometimes…well, sometimes I question Albus's judgement. That Lockhart fellow, for example. It was a blessing that he decided he had enough after one year." She paused, nostrils flaring.

"This year's professor may be dangerous," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He was involved with Voldemort during the war. He's supposedly repented, but…something to keep in mind. It may not be wise to get too close to him."

"Okay, Professor," Harry said uncertainly. "I'll remember that. Is it alright if I head back?"

"Go right ahead, Mr. Potter. I must go get the first years."

Moments later Harry slid into the spot Ron had saved him at the Gryffindor table.

"So what was that about?" Ron asked. Hermione, sitting across from them, looked on with interest.

"She wanted to warn me about the new Defense professor," Harry said, searching the Head Table for new faces. "Didn't say who he was though…there!"

He had spotted someone unfamiliar. He had short light hair, balding slightly at the top, and was wearing robes that pulled tightly against his large gut. Harry noted with surprise that he was chatting animatedly, with, of all people, Snape.

"Look at Snape," Harry said. "He doesn't even seem upset. Doesn't he normally hate the new Defense professors?"

Ron and Hermione followed his gaze. "Yeah," Ron said, "that's really weird. What'd McGonagall tell you about him?"

"She said he was in deep with Voldemort during the war."

"What!" Hermione said. "Professor Dumbledore has a Voldemort supporter teaching us Defense?"

"I dunno. He supposedly repented. Not sure why he isn't in Azkaban, but McGonagall sounds like she still doesn't trust him. She warned me against getting too close with him."

"I can't believe Dumbledore would put someone dangerous in charge of students. Maybe McGonagall doesn't know the full story?"

"I mean, Dumbledore hired Snape," Ron said, "That's probably why they like each other. I bet they're trading ideas for how to best torture the students this year."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said.

McGonagall started leading the first years in, and the Hall quieted. Harry noticed an older student trailing at the end of the line, as though trying to separate herself from the eleven-year-olds. She had short black hair and looked rather worn, as though prematurely aged, though she couldn't have been more than sixteen. Upon her entrance, whispers spread across the hall, though they were quickly silenced by a glare from McGonagall.

The Hat gave its usual song. Harry noticed several first years sag with relief when they realized all they would have to do was put on the hat. The older girl, however, showed no change in expression. Could she have already known?

McGonagall began calling out names, but Harry was distracted by a clink to his right. Ron, looking bored, had started playing with his silverware, assembling a precarious structure. Hermione noticed when he tried to steal her fork and slapped his hand away.

Harry returned his attention to the sorting and heard McGonagall call out, "Exton, Vinca." The older girl stepped up to the stool to put on the Hat.

Her sorting was the longest in Harry's memory. At last the hat called out "Gryffindor!" and Harry joined in the applause from his table. Vinca quickly took the nearest position at the Gryffindor Table to the Head table. That end of the table, so close to the professors, was never popular and had plenty of empty space.

The sorting completed with "Vespucci, Diana," and Dumbledore, in lieu of his normal pre-speech remarks, simply motioned for them to dig in. The food appeared, and the hall quickly filled with the chatter of students and the clatter of metal utensils on glass.

"Hermione," Harry asked once he finished loading up his plate, "do you think that older girl–Vinca I think her name was–is some sort of transfer student?"

"She must be," Hermione replied, considering. "That is how they deal with new students. According to Hogwarts, A History, every student's supposed to do the trip across the lake and the sorting, so they put any new students in with the first years."

"Can you imagine," Ron said after swallowing audibly, "You get to a new school and they start off by roping you in with a bunch of first years? Going through sorting all over again and all. I wouldn't do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have to be sorted somehow, Ron. But I don't think she transferred. The magical schools really discourage students from switching once they've started somewhere, and it's not like the distance is an issue, with magic and all. She was probably homeschooled. Maybe her parents decided that they couldn't keep teaching her and sent her to Hogwarts to finish."

"She doesn't look happy about being put in Gryffindor," Harry said, scrutinizing the other end of the table. Vinca sat so that she angled away from the students on her right and toward the Head Table, cutting herself off from those around her.

"I don't know," Hermione said, following his gaze. "She might just be uncomfortable with so many people. It would make sense if she were homeschooled."

"Nah, she went all pale when the Sorting Hat said Gryffindor. And her sorting took forever, too. She was probably arguing with it."

"I wonder how old she is? If she's a fifth year, she'll be with me in the dormitories. You think they've already added another bed?"

"They must have," Harry said. "They had the right number of beds when we were first years, and they couldn't have known how many we would need before the sorting. How'd you think they do it?"

The spent the rest of the feast in a discussion of bed allocation that morphed into a wider conversation about Hogwarts procedures. When their plates finally cleared of dessert, Dumbledore stood to deliver his start of term remarks. He quickly gave his normal reminders not to use magic in the corridors and to stay out of the Forbidden Forest then paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

"Some of you may know that Wizengamot elections will occur this May." Murmurs filled the hall, then died down. "I'm sure many of you are familiar with the wizarding political system," Dumbledore continued, glancing toward the Slytherin Table, "most particularly those of you whose parents are candidates. However, for those unaware, I will give a brief explanation.

"Wizengamot elections occur every five years. Each of-age witch and wizard may cast ten votes, and the ten candidates with the highest vote count will be members of the Wizengamot, our primary legislative and judicial body, for the next fifteen years." Dumbledore paused, and his eyes roamed the hall.

"We will, of course, be providing the opportunity for all students seventeen and older to cast ballots. However, I would highly encourage even underage students to educate themselves on the issues in contention this election." He smiled, and said, "I would note, if you need any more incentive, that the Board of Governors responsible for administering this school is directly subordinate to the Wizengamot. Should you wish to–ahh–change how things are done around here, you need only to elect the right candidates into office." There were some quiet chuckles, and Harry realized with a sinking feeling that this was most likely what Malfoy was referring to on the train. Presumably Lucius Malfoy was running for election.

"Several of the candidates have agreed to speak at Hogwarts and answer questions from students as part of their campaign. Notices will be posted in advance of these events, but I believe the first will be Nancy Cottrill, speaking on October 13 in the Great Hall.

"Finally, I would like to announce that, sadly, Professor Moody has chosen not to return to teach another year. It is my great pleasure, however, to introduce Professor Fillion, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He has a few words for you." Dumbledore sat down and looked at Fillion intently.

Fillion stood. A cry of "Blood Traitor!" came from the Slytherin table, followed by a number of approving chuckles from that side of the hall.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Snape called down from the Head Table. "Bletchley, I will see you after the feast."

Harry stared at Snape in shock. He had never heard Snape deduct points from his own house. The Slytherins were looking up at Snape with an appearance of surprise and betrayal.

Fillion waited until the room silenced and began to speak, but he spoke so quietly that little intelligible could be heard. He quickly realized the problem and pointed his wand at his throat, mumbling something. When he spoke again, he could be heard clearly, his voice high and energetic.

"I know what some of you've been told about me. Parts of it may be true. I assure you, I am far less important than the rumors would make me out to be. I am here to teach, and only to teach." He paused for several seconds, seemingly collecting himself. "Any student is welcome to come to me with any questions they may have, and I will try to answer them to the best of my ability. I hope to have the opportunity to impart some of my meager wisdom to you all. Thank you." He sat down hastily.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "I think that is all. Off to bed!"

Students began to file out of the hall. Harry automatically started to follow, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, we need to get the first years! And Vinca too, I suppose. Can you round them up while I go get her?"

"Err…sure." Hermione smiled at him before heading down the table to where Vinca was still sitting. "First years!" he called out, "Over here!"

He managed to group the first years together in front of him. He could see Prefects at the other tables leading their own groups of first years out of the hall, but Hermione was still talking to Vinca, so he waited. A minute later, they returned together, Vinca walking behind a clearly annoyed Hermione. She smiled, however, when she saw the first years and began asking them their names.

She quickly took charge, explaining the basic layout of the castle and leading them in the direction of the common room. Harry fell to the back of the group in case he needed to catch any stragglers. This put him next to Vinca, who was trailing behind as before.

"So," Harry said, "how old are you?"

"It's none of your business," Vinca responded reflexively, with a faint Eastern European accent he couldn't identify.

"Hey, I just want to know whether we'll have classes together. But if you don't want to say, you don't have to say."

She didn't reply, and they walked in silence for half a minute.

Noticing Hermione's enthusiasm as she talked to the first years, Harry decided to try to start a conversation with Vinca. "You know anything about this Fillion fellow?"

He expected Vinca to ignore him, but she replied nearly instantly with startling venom in her voice. "He's a coward. Doesn't believe in anything, and willing to betray everything he says he believes in as soon as the tide turns against him."

"Oh..kay. What makes you say that?"

"I don't have to explain myself to a Gryffindor."

"You are a Gryffindor."

Vinca scowled and sped up to get away from him. The group of first years had gotten twenty feet ahead of them, and Harry followed after her, so he wouldn't get left behind. This brought him within earshot of Hermione's description of the castle for the first years' benefit.

"This staircase leads to the Gryffindor tower during breakfast and dinner. It takes a bit longer to get up to the Common Room during the rest of the day, because the staircase moves over there," she pointed to separate landing, "which leads to the Transfiguration corridor. In order to get to the common room during the day, you have to take the second right instead of first in the hallway we just exited." Seeing the confused looks of the first years, she said, "you pick it up eventually, and no one will hold it against you if you get lost during the first week of classes. Why Harry," she pointed at him, "got lost and walked in five minutes late to Transfiguration the first day he was here, and now he's a Prefect!"

Harry continued to listen idly as they made their way up to the common room. Hermione was doing a much better job than he ever could, so he was content to let her do the talking. She showed them the portrait hole and explained about the male and female dormitories, and they were soon on their way up to bed, leaving just Harry, Hermione, and Vinca in the Common Room.

Hermione turned to Vinca. "You're going to have to tell me what year you're in if you want to sleep tonight." It was clear she had already tried to get the information out of her unsuccessfully when they were talking in the Great Hall.

Vinca reluctantly said, "I'm supposedly a fifth year."

"Well that wasn't too hard, was it?" Harry winced at her tone. "You'll be sleeping in the girls dormitory with me. I'll show you our room." She wished Harry a good night and motioned for Vinca to walk up the staircase, which she did, looking mutinous. Harry climbed the staircase to his own room and did his best to put Vinca out of his mind. He considered taking out the Defense textbook again but decided he wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough to read it. Minutes later, he was fast asleep on his four-poster bed.

A/N: This is an AU story. Most of the changes in the story follow from the idea that Sirius was visiting the Potters when Voldemort attacked and died trying to defend against him. Pettigrew is still Scabbers, and Crouch Junior isn't free, so the actual Moody taught for fourth year.

I've decided to include a few others changes to the first and second years in order to get the story I want. These differences are what I imagine would happen if the adults in the first two books were the responsible and intelligent people they are supposed to be. McGonagall didn't decide to bend the rules to let an inexperienced first year onto the house team. Dumbledore hid the stone in the castle, but certainly well out of the reach of first years, and Harry never had his confrontation with Quirrell. As I mention, the teachers took responsibility for the Basilisk second year, and Harry didn't have to rescue Ginny. That does leave open the question of what happened to a certain diary…

That's about it. Everything else relating to the wizarding society and history is either the same, or a reasonable extrapolation based off of the book. I don't intend to include regular A/Ns, but I thought I'd put one in here to clarify the premise.