Disclaimer: This is my idea for the sixth book or a blog-ish thing of the sixth year. I'm sure J.K. Rowling would beg to differ and I say now that I am not her.
Author's Note: This is really exciting. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. My best friend May Liza writes really awesome Harry Potter fics and I'm proud to start now. Here it goes!
Chapter one: First Glimpses
"Sixth year..." the words were yet another crisp gust of wind on his tongue. Being the start for everyone including Harry Potter at Hogwarts, there was a bustle of mystical and excited life around him.
Hermione Granger tripped on the last couple of steps getting off of the train but managed to steer her stumbling self toward the people she thought least likely to mind being grabbed a hold of. Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend, and Harry were nearest and first choice.
"Sorry, sorry, I lost my footing," she apologized, pushing back her ginger-colored hair.
"It's 'kay," Ron pretended to grumble, looking at Hermione and then at the ground.
"It's fine, Hermione. Are you ready for our frightful, second-to-last year?" Harry grinned.
"Of course! Well, in a way..." Harry tried to imagine what fourteen books he hadn't managed to zip through this summer like his prepared summer.
Like every year at school for growing witches and wizards, no matter how fresh each new beginning felt, there was nothing like being a first year.
Ron clucked his tongue in mock condescension at the gibbering first years that could almost run through his long legs.
"I don't believe we were ever that bloody small! Do you, mate?" Ron commented, nudging Harry.
"Probably," Harry laughed, "you have to be tiny and unknowing to really stand quivering before Hagrid." Hermione smiled at this, Hagrid, the groundskeeper, Magical Beasts professor, and "Gentle Giant" was as dear to the three of them as a kind grandmother (or grandfather you might suppose).
It was then that Harry noticed a taller, less awkward figure getting into one of the boats with a group of first years, cloaked in the strong yet gentle palette of the sea.
He was just about to point out the figure to Ron and Hermione when they pulled him toward the carriages drawn by the regal and ferocious thestrals that those that hadn't witnessed death could not see.
Harry tried to keep his eye on the figure, especially when the hood of the cloak fell down to reveal a proud-looking girl with chocolate-brown hair streaming over her shoulders. Harry hadn't been sure if he had ever gotten over Cho, but at this moment he knew he had.