A whistle blew shrill, a cloud of steam rising from a train pulling out of the station. The tracks rumbled as the engine heaved forward. Harry Potter weaved through the family and friends of passengers standing on the platform, pushing his cart careful not to bump into anyone. People were shouting and crying and running about, making it all quite confusing in the station. Harry focused on the bright red hair bobbing up and down a few feet in front of him. He didn't want to lose Ron, although by the sixth time, he was sure he could find platform 9 ¾ on his own. But still.

Hedwig screeched as Harry whirled the cart around a sharp corner, picking up his pace to a light jog. The anticipation of returning to Hogwarts had filled Harry right from that morning when the sun rose at the Burrow. Hogwarts had always felt like a home to Harry. A true home, unlike anywhere else he had resided. He longed for feeling it brought him.

Up ahead the last Weasley had just disappeared into the wall between platform 8 and 9. Harry was only a few steps away from the platform when his head exploded. He stumbled sideways like he had been hit by something out of nowhere. Falling into a column, he slid down, his knees buckling. Instead of light, darkness burst behind his eyelids. Harry fought it, blindly searching for the bright lights of the Kings Cross, but it only came in quick flashes as the darkness fought back.

Amidst the flashing strobe of light and dark, an image formed in Harry's head. Voldemort. Laughing cruelly as blood tricked down from the corner of his mouth. Blood covering his hands, dripping onto his wand. He sat on a pile of bones, made into a throne of sorts. Muggle and wizard's bones alike held up the Dark Lord like a king. Slowly, he turned to stare into Harry's eyes, barring his teeth ferociously.

Then it ended, just as quickly as it had started and Harry opened his eyes slowly, the bright light making them water. He was slumped against a pillar, his trolley out in the middle of the platform. Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention, so with a great effort, he pushed himself up. His head was throbbing like he knocked it hard. Maybe he did, he wasn't really sure. Tentatively, Harry raised a hand to his scar, which was stinging like acid had been poured over it. The young wizard had gotten used to the visions occurring his dreams, but never before had he experienced one like this in the middle of the day, wide awake.

With his cart in front of him, and moving again, Harry made his way to platform 9 ¾ but the frantic pace had slowed. Each step, each movement brought bile into Harry's throat, but he wasn't going to miss the train again.

Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express with only minutes to spare. The whistle blew, announcing their departure as he put his bags up with the others. Then Gryffindor boy headed toward the back of the train where his fellow house mates usual sat, looking for the car with his friends.

"Harry! Hi," someone called out to him. He looked over his shoulder and found Neville walking towards him. He grinned at Harry, fumbling with something in his hands, which turned out, at a closer inspection, to be Trevor, Neville's pet toad.

"Hullo Neville." Harry walked over to his long-time friend, who now stood a few inches taller than him. He must have grown over the summer, which didn't really help his usual awkwardness at all. Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder steering him down to the end of the car.

"We're all in here," he said, sliding open the door. Inside sat Ron, Hermione and Ginny. The trolley lady had obviously come and gone already for Ron sat lounging on the seat with a pile of treats and empty wrappers at his side.

"Harry!" Hermione stood up in exclamation, "where have you been?" Harry just glanced at her, not really sure what to say as everybody stared at him.

"Yeah mate, one moment you were there, and the next you just disappeared," Ron said popping another chocolate frog into his mouth. Just then and there Harry decided he wouldn't tell them. He didn't want them to worry, and more than that, to pity him. He hated the way they would look at him when he told them about the visions. Like some small stupid animal caught in a trap it made itself. Like it was his fault.

Harry forced a smile and sat down next to Ron, trying to look as casual as his friend. "Just got caught behind a boarding muggle train. Took forever, the lot did." Harry grinned through clenched teeth, the truth so close to spilling out. He needed someone to help him understand what his vision meant, but honestly, he didn't think Ron and Hermione could help.

"Harry, are you sure you're alright," Ginny asked him leaning forward, her elbows on her knees.

He resisted the automatic response of touching his scar, keeping his hand by his side. "Yeah, I'm fine," he took a breath, "really I am."

He could tell Ginny wasn't buying it, but there wasn't much else he could do. Thankfully, at the moment Ron decided to delve into a description of the latest quidditch match between the Romanians and the French. Which led to an argument between him and Hermione about Victor Krum and so on and so forth. Harry just listened and for once appreciated his friend's bickering.

For most of the train ride he was able to just sit and think without being expected to contribute. It was only when the conversation had somehow travelled to the topic of dark magic and death eaters that he began to pay attention.

"Oh not again Harry," Hermione sighed as Harry began re-explaining his theory of Draco Malfoy's involvement with the death eaters. She covered her face with her hands shaking her head. "You can't just make accusations without any evidence."

"But you saw him too. I have witnesses," Harry exclaimed.

"I told you, I don't know what I saw."

"It was a ritual, an initiation of sorts. I'm sure of it and-"

"Please give a rest." Hermione pleaded. Harry glanced at Ron, hoping for back up but was out of luck, for his friend was fast asleep, curled up like a house cat. Ginny had left an hour ago for some girls in her year.

"I just- er need some air." Harry stood, frustrated, and grabbed his small knapsack and invisibility clock. He looked at his friend, his mouth in a tight line. She looked apologetic, but didn't say anything, so Harry left.