Stiles couldn't sleep. The heat was pressing in on him, making him feel decidedly uncomfortable, despite the little fan sitting on his desk, trying its best to cool down the air which was sneaking in through the open windows.

But it wasn't the only thing preventing him from sleeping. He could hear his father pacing in his room, mumbling occasionally so as to voice ideas; to figure out the wording of them before he could think about them. His dad's footsteps were even, a steady constant as he made his way along the wall and back again, for a few moments before they'd stop, making silence fall over the house. The silence would feel all-encompassing for a few seconds before his father would let out an exasperated grunt, and then the pacing would resume – with only a few muttered curse words as paper was scrunched up and thrown carelessly towards the bin, letting out a metal ting almost every time to show that the ball had found its target.

Stiles sighed once the pacing had resumed, and looked over at his clock. It was only three in the morning. That meant it was too late for there to be anything decent on the TV, and too early to get up and find something to do before he could get Scott.

He closed his eyes, deciding to try and let the memories of the previous year wash over him.

He watched as the scenes played out on his eyelids. Getting to make new friends; teasing Hope about being friends with Beauxbatons boys; placing bets with the Weasley twins; trying to help Scott figure out how to ask Allison to the Yule Ball; dancing with Lydia. He allowed the happiness of the memories to wash over him, to build in his chest until he seemed to forget about his inability to sleep, certain that if he didn't think about it sleep would finally wash over him.

But his mind was active now, and instead of a simple replay of all the good things he couldn't help but think. And the darkness of the year pushed the images aside.

The Triwizard Tournament was meant to have been fun. It was meant to have entertained the three schools with some friendly competition, not send the wizarding world hurtling into turmoil. It wasn't meant to end with Harry Potter telling them all that He Who Must Not Be Named had returned. It hadn't meant to end with people stating he was just an attention seeker, while rekindling fear in others.

Yet, Stiles' mind reeled with the effect that it might have on the Muggle world as well. What would it mean for them? For his dad?

But, the other memories pushed the wonderings aside, though they didn't lift his spirits. Scott being bitten by Peter; trying to help Scott through the transformations; Lydia being attacked; seeing Hope broken by the loss of her childhood friend; his dad's injury.

Stiles quickly opened his eyes, trying to force the bad memories away. He tried to focus on the plan for the day ahead. Meeting Scott to get their school things. A trip to Diagon Alley was always a welcome distraction. It reminded Stiles of his mother, of the times they'd spent together looking through all the shops when his dad was working. His mind wandered to if their parents would join them, though Stiles knew they wouldn't. His dad was too busy with another murder case in Beacon Hills to worry about the magic world, while Melissa was working a few extra shifts at St Mingo's to try and earn some extra money.

Stiles didn't know when exactly sleep had washed over him, but he was woken by a knocking on his bedroom door. He groaned before slowly rolling over to look at his clock. Panic washed over him, and he sat bolt upright, his mind reeling. It was half eleven.

'Yeah?' Stiles asked groggily as he rubbed his forefingers across his eyelids to get rid of the sleep that had clustered in the corners of his eyes.

His dad pushed the door open, and Stiles noticed that he looked as though he'd barely slept. There was a slight frown on his face, and his attention only appeared to half be on Stiles. His pale blue eyes were slightly glazed, yet Stiles could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling away on the latest case despite his attempts to focus on his home life as well.

'You okay, kiddo?' DCI Stilinski asked, rubbing a hand absently over his lightly stubble covered chin.

Stiles stifled a yawn as he nodded. 'Yeah, I just overslept slightly is all.'

His dad nodded, the slightest flicker of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'You still going out today?'

Stiles thought for a moment, wondering if there was any point. A slight worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach; a concern that Scott might've decided they weren't going and had made other plans. But Stiles nodded, he needed the little excursion, and he was certain Scott would still be up for it.

'Yeah, it'll be for the best,' he said as he slipped off of his bed.

His dad made a sound of agreement before glancing at his watch. 'Look, I've gotta go. I'll be back late. D'you mind picking up something for dinner as well?' he asked, shifting his weight between his feet for a moment, his attention finally falling on Stiles completely.

'The outrage,' said Stiles dramatically, smirking over at his dad. His father let out a slight chuckle, a genuine smile settling onto his weary features, before Stiles turned around to sort his clothes out in his wardrobe. 'Na, I don't mind. Have a good day at work, Dad.'

'Oh,' his dad said, as though something had just struck him. Stiles grunted slightly to let him know that he was still listening. 'D'you know –' Stiles heard the distinct sound of his dad flicking through his notepad '– a boy by the name of Isaac Lahey?'

Stiles thought for a moment. The name sounded slightly familiar – was there an Isaac in his Potions class? – before shrugging slightly. 'Possibly from school, how comes?'

His father sighed, closing the book with a snap. 'Doesn't matter.'

Stiles carried on sorting his clothes out, but he knew his father was still in the doorway. Stiles could feel his eyes on the back of his neck, making him fumble with the flannel shirts. He chucked one onto his bed before wandering over to the chest of drawers.

'Stiles?' his dad asked, but there was something cautious about it which made the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck stand up. Stiles was also certain that the temperature in the room had dropped significantly at the simple question. He tried to shake the feeling off, to no avail though.

Stiles glanced around at his dad. He could almost feel the panic rising in his chest, like when people filled kettles up. 'Yeah?' he asked tentatively, his eyes darting across his dad's face to try and figure out what had gotten to him.

His dad sighed, rubbing his right hand across his mouth. Stiles watched as his father moved his hand to rub the right side of his jaw just below his ear. It was a nervous tic that his dad had, one that often preceded an idea he wasn't sure if Stiles would like or not, but needed to voice. Yet, there was something different about it this time. Something that Stiles couldn't quite place, much to his irritation.

'Could you drop in on Hope before you leave?' his dad asked, and Stiles felt his heart clench slightly.

He paused for a moment, his hands halfway between the top of his desk and his sock drawer.

Stiles had been trying to get hold of Hope for the best part of the holidays, despite Scott telling him to back off slightly. He'd been worried about her to say the least. But, the fact that his dad was suggesting it was the thing which set his nerves on edge.

'Of-of course,' he said, resuming to sort out his clothes.

'Thank you, Stiles,' his dad said softly, before Stiles heard him hit the doorframe lightly and start off down the hallway.

'Oh,' his dad called a few moments later. Stiles was just about to enter the bathroom, but he knew his dad was at the front door. 'Have fun at Dianalley.'

The door was pulled shut just as Stiles sighed, a smirk settling quickly onto his face as he muttered: 'Diagon Alley.'

It didn't take Stiles long to get dressed and grab a couple of biscuits for breakfast. What took up a majority of his time was finding his door keys – which he'd been using as a bookmark in some Muggle history book he'd borrowed from the library for some summer reading. When he eventually found them he stuffed them into the top pocket of his flannel shirt as he scanned the work surfaces for his letter. He slowly twirled his wand around his fingers, mentally complaining that he couldn't yet viably use magic outside of school so as to summon it.

His mind then wandered to all the things he'd be able to do when that fateful day came. The way he might be able to help his dad with cases. How easy the household chores would be. How he'd be able to–

The doorbell cut his thoughts off though, making him jump. All his muscles tensed, but he slowly snuck into the hallway, uncertain to why he felt so on edge. He held his wand tightly by his side, deciding this might warrant self-defence if it came down to it.

A sigh of relief escaped him though as he noticed the silhouette on the glass. He mentally cursed himself for being so jumpy as he pulled the door open, a smile slipping quickly onto his face.

Scott McCall was standing on the front porch, a bright smirk on his face. His eyes were darting across his friend, as if trying to determine his mood simply by looking at him. Stiles noticed, however, that despite everything that had happened there was still the familiar gleam of happiness behind his friend's eyes. One that he felt certain would never disappear. The one that always settled Stiles.

Scott made a show of glancing at his watch, evidentially he'd realised that Stiles had overslept. Stiles, however, quickly shifted so as to look through the pile of post on the small hallway table, looking for his letter.

'I was beginning to think you'd bailed on me,' said Scott, and Stiles heard the soft creak of wood as his friend lent against the doorframe. He could practically envision the smirk deepening at the teasing comment though, but he carried on with his search.

'What makes you think I haven't?' Stiles asked, thumbing through a pile of empty envelopes to no avail.

'Hm,' said Scott thoughtfully, and Stiles spared him a quick glance. The other boy was frowning slightly, running a hand across his slightly uneven jaw. Stiles smirked to himself before resuming the search. 'Because if you didn't come I'd have to drag Derek along with me. I'm sure he'd help me pick up some werewolf essentials.'

The simple comment caught Stiles off guard, and he froze. Worry pumped through him at the mere prospect of the werewolf. A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't that he didn't like Derek Hale because he was a werewolf, as most did, it was because of the trouble that he'd caused Scott over the past year. The fact that he creeped the hell out of Stiles, and he only heard the stories from Scott most of the time. It was mainly, however, the fact that there always appeared to be an ulterior motive with him if he ever agreed to a favour. And the fact that the guy never appeared to have smiled in his life – Stiles had decided a long time ago never to trust a person like that.

'You go straight for him rather than H, or the twins, or someone halfway freaking normal?' Stiles asked, his eyes catching the corner of the list. He pulled the yellowing parchment roughly from its pile before looking over at Scott, finally ready for them to go on their excursion.

His friend's jaw was more prominently askew, his mouth scrunched to one side. He had one eyebrow raised slightly disbelievingly. But the entertained glint still shone brightly behind his eyes.

'Halfway normal?' Scott asked, the amused lilt evident behind his voice as he backed up a few paces so that Stiles could leave the house.

Stiles shrugged, crumpling the coffee stained letter into his pocket with one hand as he locked the door with the other. 'Halfway freaking normal,' he corrected with a slight smirk.

Scott shook his head slightly, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

'Anyway,' said Stiles as they began down the garden path, 'you know what I mean.'

Scott sighed, and Stiles noticed that he slumped slightly.

Stiles knew he'd complained about the werewolf too often; knew that Scott knew exactly where he stood on the issue. He also knew that Scott wasn't going to try and find their ex-Professor Lupin to help instead because he had his own little werewolf dictionary in Beacon Hills – one who'd been born which seemed to make him more of an expert in Scott's eyes. He also knew that Scott being Scott he felt as though he could help Derek with any issues which now came his way because of the help he'd given him. Stiles sighed; Scott was sometimes too decent for his own good.

'Anyway,' said Scott as they wound their way towards the little green near the ice rink, their usual waiting place as they finally figured out a plan of action, 'Derek's not all bad.'

'Yeah, neither was Darth Vader,' retorted Stiles in a neutral tone, but a grin slipped easily onto his face.

The reference, however, fell short with Scott, who merely looked confused. Stiles sighed exasperatedly at the reaction, throwing his hands up in irritation. He allowed them to fall down to his sides, hitting his thighs lightly.

'Seriously?' he asked, to which Scott merely nodded as they reached their usual bench. 'And this is why I like having H around.'

Stiles leant back on the bench, his heart tightened slightly as a new wave of worry for Hope washed over him. He tried to focus on the surrounding area to settle himself instead.

The bench was on the side of the green that looked across to the ice cream man's van, which was going about his lunchtime trade with a wide smile and a deep, booming voice which was surprisingly soothing as he joked around with the local kids, making them squeal in laughter as he handed over the cones. The little fountain in the middle of the green was working for once, but only just. There was a slight dribble of water running over the smooth granite. Stiles had never been able to place what the statue was meant to be, just that it was the epitome of ugly modern art.

Jackson was striding across the green with Danny close to his side. They appeared to be in a deep conversation about something, and Jackson appeared to glance around slightly worriedly every so often, as if afraid that they might be overheard; there was something oddly satisfying about seeing Jackson Whittmore looking nervous for Stiles, and he felt a slight smirk slipping onto his face. Allison and Lydia were slowly winding their way towards the local movie rental shop, a short distance away from the boys. There was a wide smile on Lydia's face as she let out a tinkling laugh that seemed too forced. Stiles noticed that her eyes darted towards Jackson slightly, but that Allison's attention was slightly concerned, her eyes quickly finding Scott though, who waved towards her with a slightly reassuring smile.

The thing which seemed to allow the worry to build once more, however, was the fact that just next to the ice rink to their left, was the end of Hope's road. Stiles' attention remained focused on that, as if willing her to finally have left the house. Willing the older girl to turn up randomly to join in with their little exertion, like she normally did. But, he knew it wouldn't happen. It was the beginning of August but they'd barely seen her. According to Oliver, on the occasions that the duo had gone to the Wood household to check up on her, she hadn't really left her room. By the sounds of it she spent a lot of time reading, refusing to talk about Cedric, her childhood best friend, and instead spewed out random facts that she'd learnt as a way of avoiding any talk of her fellow Hufflepuff.

'Or does H simply humour you?' Scott asked, giving Stiles' shoulder a light squeeze.

Stiles scoffed slightly, rolling his eyes as a weak smile slipped onto his face. 'You do know she's the one who recommended it, right?'

Scott laughed, nodding slightly as he leant back on the bench, resting his arms on the back of the thing, his attention flicking back towards Allison for a moment.

Stiles watched the two girls for a moment. He wasn't too surprised by the fact that Lydia had bounced back as quickly as she had done. If it wasn't for the cautious glances from a few of their fellow Hogwarts students – as there appeared to be an abundance of Hogwarts students in Beacon Hills – Stiles would have forgiven himself for thinking that the horrors of the previous year had been a nightmare.

'Hey, can we go see Hope?' Stiles asked, his hand moving quickly to rub the nape of his neck worriedly. 'Dad asked if we could check up on her. And, I mean, we haven't been in a while. Oliver might've managed to get her out of her room for longer than three seconds. And we could see if she –'

'I think that's a brilliant idea,' Scott interrupted his best friend's babbling in a light voice.

The calmness appeared to snap Stiles out of his worry, but his mind was still reeling. His stomach clenched slightly as nerves crept up on him. He wanted to see the old Hope, or at least a flicker of her. He wanted to make sure that she knew they were there for her, no matter what she needed. He wanted to help her laugh again, to try and take away some of the pain. But he doubted they'd even see her. He was almost certain that they'd get brushed off by a tired looking Oliver before they set off shopping. It was this thought that swirled around his mind as the duo slowly stood up, preparing to wander towards their friend's house.

This was just to see if people were interested in the idea - the update won't be for a while - but yeah, let me know what you think of it :) Hope you enjoy.