People...people...people…ah-hah!

With a victorious grin, Harry threw open the door to the very last compartment on the Hogwarts Express, only for the smile to the slide right off his face, as he noticed Hermione Granger sitting in the blind spot of the compartment window, right next to the sliding door.

She turned her head around the entryway, peering over the book she was reading, Secrets of the Mind, given by the faded text on the rather worn cover.

"This was the last empty compartment, I'll be reading this the whole time anyways, Potter."

Harry gave a critical look as the Slytherin girl turned and stuffed her nose right back into the book. He looked back down the hallway of the train, confirming that, yes, there were no more compartments he could check, before he shrugged his shoulders, and slid into the opposite side from Granger.

"You could've sat in view of the window. Got my hopes up, you did."

"This was more comfortable," was the response without hesitation. She added, "The window's bloody hard."

Fair enough.

Harry settled his luggage quickly, only carrying a medium sized satchel. Hedwig had flown ahead, the temperamental owl never liked the train ride. He nestled into the far corner, next to the window. Frowning, he realized Granger was right, the window was bloody uncomfortable.

He flipped his satchel to the other side and lent up against the door side, much to the amusement of his compartment-mate, if the audible exhale coming from her was any indication.

Sighing to himself, he shifted around, trying to find the most comfortable position. He'd much rather be sitting with Neville, arguing about the benefits of dodging versus blocking in a duel, but his best mate drew prefect duty on the train this year in a lottery, a tradition amongst sixth year prefects.

At least he'd get it out of the way on this trip.

Finding his comfortable spot, his relaxed, at least Granger was quiet.

He'd believed that his peace on this trip was assured, the train was due to start any moment, when the door slid open suddenly.

The pair looked around to the hallway, seeing a Stupefied Ron Weasley looking at them with his mouth dropped open.

"The window's uncomfortable," they both informed the newcomer at the same time, drawing a snort from Harry, and a wry smile from Granger.

"You, uh, you mind if I join you lot?"

He looked at Granger, who shrugged, and he turned back to Weasley, "So long as you take the window seat."

After a moment of juggling seats, the trio was seating relatively comfortably in the compartment, and the train was moving. Harry was daydreaming, Granger was reading, and Weasley was irritatingly tapping his fingers on the table.

It only took about five minutes for Weasley to run out of patience and try to spark a conversation.

"You, uh, either of you two hear anything about the new DA&D Professor?"

Harry responded without opening his eyes, "My father said it was some fellow named Snape, Sivirus or something like that."

"Severus Snape?" Granger asked incredulously, "The youngest Potions Master since the 1700s, Severus Snape? That Severus Snape?"

Harry opened his eyes specifically to roll them at the Slytherin girl, "You know any other Snape's?"

"Well, excuse me for disbelieving that a Potions Master would be teaching Dark Arts and Defense," Granger huffed, furrowing her eyebrows and pursing her lips.

"I reckon he's probably getting his foot in the door, probably gonna take over once Slughorn retires," Weasley added neutrally, defusing the situation, "Who knows how much longer he's gonna last?"

Harry turned back to Granger, "Sorry," he sighed, receiving an affirmative hum in response.

"Well, regardless I presume he's very qualified if Professor Thicknesse hired him," she offered.

Harry recognized the peace offering for what it was, and he offered his own two knuts, "My father wasn't very enthused hearing about it, I don't think they liked each other at Hogwarts."

Granger sat up from her corner, snapping her book shut and moving it to her own satchel, "I don't think I'm going to be getting much reading done on this ride."

Harry blanched a little, she was sitting alone before he and Weasley arrived. Apparently Weasley felt the same way, as he apologized.

"Sorry about that, uh, I can shut up if you want."

Granger waved him away, "No, no, it's quite alright, it'll be nice not reading for the whole ride for a change."

Harry shrugged, satisfied by the response, "So, what should we start talking about then, if we're going to socialize the whole ride?"

The trio looked around at each other confused, before Weasley filled the silence, "I guess, since it's sixth year, all the professors are going to demand that we have our whole future planned out by now…"

Harry snorted, Father had been demanding that of him since fourth year.

"So, do you have any plans for your future, Weasley?" Granger asked, at the very least feigning interest very well, as far as Harry could tell.

He gaped for a moment, before muttering under his breath, "Bugger me, why did I start this," before coughing lightly and continuing, "Uh, sorry, it's, uh, kinda personal, give me a moment."

"You don't have to say if you don't want," Harry offered, no need to force each other to spill their life stories on a train ride.

"No, no, it's fine," Weasley waved off, "It's just, well, you're probably aware that my family isn't exactly well off..."

He gestured to his shabby robes, and Harry nodded, the Weasley's pocketbook was a common joke at Hogwarts, though he'd primarily heard it through whispers about the Weasley girl a Year below them.

"I, well, I kinda was inspired by your family, Potter," he continued, giving Harry a nod, "'cause way long ago, one of your ancestors invented Skel-Gro and some other rubbish, and now your family's rich, and you got a seat on the Wizengamot and all that.

"So, I guess I want to invent something like that, so that the Weasley's can be the new Potter's"

There was a moment of silence, before Granger spoke up, "Well, I think that's an admirable goal, to try to build up your family like that."

Her tone was...supportive, though it sounded oddly cold, Harry thought.

"Have you given any thought as to what you intend to invent?" She finished, now sounding fully intrigued in Weasley's plans.

For his part, Weasley flushed with embarrassment and looked down, before muttering, "I, uh, haven't gotten there yet."

Granger seemed a bit taken aback, but she gathered herself quickly before responding, "Well, I'm sure that you can do plenty of research with electives this year and next, personal study is what the last two years are for, after all."

He looked up at the Slytherin girl gratefully, "Ah, thanks, Granger. What do you plan on doing yourself?"

This time it was Granger's turn to flush, "I honestly hadn't given it much thought myself, to be honest.

"When I first got my Hogwarts letter," she began, her voice flowing into her story, "I'd read all that I could about Wizarding history, only to find that only so many families dominated the history books. And I'm, well, you know...muggleborn. I supposed that I wanted to do something worth a whole book, so that people would read about me at Hogwarts."

She frowned, looking down into her lap, "But, I don't know what I want to do."

"Minister of Magic!" Ron exclaimed loudly, looking around the compartment at his and Granger's took aback expressions, and continued softer, "I mean, you could become the first muggleborn Minister of Magic. I'm sure that'd be worth a book, and you're definitely smart enough to do it."

Granger snorted derisively, "Please, I've got 10 Outstanding OWLs, and Parkinson's the Slytherin Prefect. I've got a better change breaking Gamp's Law." If anything, her tone grew more acidic, as she finished with a sneer, "At least that way, they can't pretend someone else did it."

The compartment fell silent for a few moments, before Granger cleared her throat softly, changing the subject, "Um, sorry about that. Potter, what do you plan to do after Hogwarts?

Harry jumped at his own name being called; he felt his own face flush as he sputtered, "I-ah, well, y'know, it's, ah-"

Granger reacted instantly, waving her hands in front of her like a train conductor, "No, no, you don't have to answer if you don't want, Potter, it's completely fine if you wish."

As she tried to assure him, he managed to get himself back together, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"No, it's, it's alright, I can tell you all," he managed what was hopefully not a weak smile, "I mean, you two poured your hearts out for me, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't do it for you."

The other two members of the compartment waited expectantly for Harry to continue.

He looked the other two in the eyes, "You're both aware that I survived the Killing Curse as a child?"

They both nodded, it was the most notable, and only, thing Harry was known for in the world at large, though he had a different reputation at Hogwarts.

"Well, as you know, my mother died that night-"

"Wait, wait, what?" Weasley interjected, confunded, "I thought your mother was Amelia Bones?"

Before Harry could correct him, as he'd done for many others, Granger jumped in, "I'd read about it myself, I was interested to see if there was any study on how you survived."

She looked up at him, and held his eyes, "Her name was Lily, right?"

He took a breath before speaking softly, looking down, "Yes, her name was Lily Evans. She...she was a muggleborn."

Harry swallowed again before continuing.

"Someone wanted to, and did, kill my mother. I will find out who."

And kill them, he left unsaid.

Another moment of silence, before Granger broke it, "So, I assume you're planning on becoming an Auror?" She offered up.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe"

Weasley cleared his throat, causing his and Granger's eyes to snap to him and his face to redden once more, "So, uh, we all know what we want, but we seem to have no idea how to do it. Perhaps we can help each other out?"

A pause.

"I wouldn't be averse to such an arrangement," Granger confessed diplomatically, "But I believe that we should start calling each other by first names if we intend to work together like this."

Harry let out a bark of laughter.

"The muggleborn Slytherin, the dullest Ravenclaw, and the cowardly Gryffindor," he boasted sarcastically, "What a golden trio we'll make."

But he did not disagree.


After the Sorting, Harry walked his brother, Henry, up to the Gryffindor Tower for the first time in his Hogwarts schooling. His brother was wide eyed and excited, everything an 11 year old should be attending a school for magic for the first time. He ruffled his hair, shuffled him off to bed, warning him to make sure he didn't stay up too late.

He said his customary greetings to Dean and Seamus, the other two Gryffindor boys in his year, and snuck off to the 7th floor hallway where the entrance to the Room of Requirement was, under cover of his invisibility cloak. The door was already set, and he slipped into the room quickly, finding Neville Longbottom sitting on one of the benches of the familiar dueling chamber that they usually set the Room to become.

"'lo, Nev," he greeted, heading over to the lockers, where his usual dueling robes were stored.

"Hey, Harry," Neville returned, asking, "How was the train without me?"

Harry lifted his standard school robes over his head, revealing a toned body, the result of constant dueling practice and physical activity, that he was rather proud of, as he responded, "Pretty good, in all honesty. Surprisingly enjoyable."

"Oh?" Neville teased, "Have a nice nap, did you?"

"No, actually, I spent the train ride talking to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Harry continued to dress, buckling the robes to his preferred tightness, when he realized that Neville didn't respond. He turned to see a shocked look on his friend's face, "What? What's so strange about that?"

Neville stepped towards the dueling area, warning his friend, "You best be careful around Granger, Harry, I've heard stories about her. Apparently she hexed a firstie last year, just for talking to her in the library."

He hummed noncommittally, "I've heard that story, but you know how the rumor mill is, they're brutal enough to me after all. Besides, I don't think Hermione would do something like that."

"Oh, so it's Hermione already? Just...be careful mate, she just seems a bit mental." Neville shook his head as he stepped over to his starting position on the dueling mat, "Let's just get this started."

Harry frowned, stepping over to his starting position, "Whatever, mate, I think she can help me with you-know-what."

The two sixth years stared at each other, Neville getting in one final word before they started, "Just...careful."

Before Harry could fit in a rebuttal, the magical gong sounded, marking the two duelists to bow to each other in a fluid motion, before the gong sounded once more, and the duel started in earnest.

Protego!

"Stupefy!"

Harry's silent shield blocked Neville's opening stunner, as he spun to his left, immediately casting a silent stunner of his own, causing his opponent to take a step back as he shouted "Protego!"

He took advantage of Neville's minor dig in, silently casting two disarming spells at either side of the shield to keep him boxed in. From there, it was a trivial matter to keep Neville trapped behind his shield to slowly whittle him down.

But, it seemed that Neville wouldn't go down without a fight. The moment before Harry would've broken through his shield, Neville dropped it, and went onto the offensive.

Only the quickest of reflexes protected him from the shouted "Stupefy!", dipping to the right, as he launched a silent Full Body Lock Hex at the out of position Neville, dropping his opponent and ending the duel.

A simple Finite Incantatem dropped the effects of the hex, leaving Neville gasping for air on the floor of the dueling mat.

Once he regained his breath, he grunted out, "Bugger me, you finally got silent casting down?"

Harry let the pride of his achievement wash over him, a smirk gracing his face, "Yep, that was a real nice move with the shield drop there, though, almost got me."

"Yeah, almost," Neville grumbled, "What's the total now, 342 to 25?"

Harry let the shit eating grin grow, twirling his wand between his finger tips. This was what he did best. There wasn't a better duelist in Hogwarts, even in seventh year. Even in the students who graduated in the last 3 years, to be honest.

"I think you've got 26, Nev. Don't worry, you'll catch up some day."


After the Sorting, in which he bitterly noted that Harry's brother joined him in Gryffindor, he decided to just go up to Ravenclaw Tower and tuck in early, classes started the next day after all. Thankfully, the riddle was a rather famous one, the Sphinx's man riddle, he was in no mood to think about a bloody riddle.

The knocker probably wanted to take it easy on the firsties this year.

It turned out that he was too slow to slip up past the mass of first years clogging up the Common Room, as he entered into the Room, and found Michael Corner, one of the two sixth year Ravenclaw prefects, waxing poetic about Ravenclaw House.

"...as a Ravenclaw, you're expected to be the top of the class. Speaking of which, Weasley, you finally get an O this year?"

Ron looked over the group, first years looking at him with confusion, missing the byplay between the two older students.

He rolled his eyes, calling back, "Piss off, Corner, I don't have time for this shit tonight," as he briskly walked up the steps to the sixth year dormitory.

It seemed like his luck hadn't completely run out on the riddle, as he entered the dormitory and found that he had the first choice of beds. He went all the way to the far side of the room, minimizing the contact he'd have with the other sixth years, placing his floating trunk, brought up by the house elves, at the foot of the far bed.

He cast the basic silencing and impervious charms on the curtains, and settled in for the evening with his idea book.

The inspiration for the idea book had actually been his father, who'd been going on and on about the Muggle 'patant' system, where they would claim inventions for their own, and be able to prevent others from selling a product they invented. Ron had more or less slipped in and out of daydream during the dinner, but, later that evening, he considered how similar the process was in Wizarding society, only with more protection for muggle businessmen.

So, Ron took to the use of a notebook to store his ideas for inventions, as well as any sort of research he would go into. He spent a long time charming and placing runes the book to not only open only to his magic, but, in case someone managed to duplicate that, only show basic school notes changing upon his actual classes unless they tapped their wand on the cover in a specific pattern before opening.

Objectively, he knew it was nothing particularly special, surely people had come up with stronger protections for books than the one he created, but he couldn't help but feel proud of it. He made in his fourth year to improve upon his first one, using a couple NEWT Charms to create it, as well as Runes he had to sneak out of the Restricted Section. He was pretty sure those weren't even in the curriculum.

Regardless of what others had done, he managed it, and he was proud.

The inside of the book unfortunately lacked the same kinds of work as the outside, as most of the writings inside were poor ideas, and even poorer ideas that had been scratched out. Occasionally, there would be a beginning of a sketch for some kind of enchanted item or another, but they would inevitably be abandoned by the lack of actual insight into how to create said items.

He just didn't know enough about how to make the things he thought about.

Theoretically, he could go to the library, and search through each and every book in it until he found what he needed, but there were just too many books for him to look through. Beyond that, he never knew which way to look into an idea.

Would a self-polishing wand holster be created by Transfiguration? Charms? Runes? Some unholy combination of the three? And after that, who would buy a self polishing wand holster anyways? Wand holsters were already cheap, was it really worth it to create a new one that just polishes? And what happens if the magical polishing affected the wand? He surely couldn't test out such a thing on his own wand, and nobody in their right mind would give up their wand for testing.

Each and every idea in his book had been slowly whittled away in that manner until nothing remained.

Ron tapped on the page with his quill, nothing written down. He didn't want to make some novelty rubbish that nobody would use. He had no use for a shed full of enchanted inventions nobody wanted, like his father's muggle shed.

He sighed, closing his book, letting the charms lock his ideas away, as he turned over to sleep.

There were classes tomorrow after all.


After the Sorting, in which Hermione hardly paid any attention, barring her noticing that there were even less muggleborn student than last year. She left the feast early to head up to the library, where the next book she would be needed for her Occlumency training.

Normally, she wouldn't be able to get the book, since it was in the Restricted Section, but at the end of last year, she managed to convince Professor Slughorn, sorry, Horace, to give her a pass for "general independent research" for her sixth and seventh years. The fat professor was infatuated with her, despite his unwillingness to invite her to his "Slug Club". All it took was a few dropped hints about 'furthering her education', wearing an older (and thus tighter) robe, and talking to him about how it was "so hard to find theoretical potions texts", and he fluttered off to write her note.

She handed the slip of parchment to Pince, who gave her a slightly suspicious look as she nodded.

Hermione was one of Pince's favorites.

She made her way through the Restricted Section with practiced ease, keeping her hands quite close to her sides to avoid touching any cursed texts, as she found exactly the book she was looking for, The Mind Maze. This particular book would demonstrate the methodology behind more sneaky methods of Occlumency.

Rather than simply building shields, this book contained the knowledge of using false memories to trick a would be attacker, and reversing the attack. It was all very fascinating.

Her prize stuffed away in her moleskin pouch, she left to return back to the Slytherin dormitory, half hoping that everyone would be in their beds by the time she got back.

Her wishes fell upon deaf ears, as she walked into the Slytherin Common Room to find Draco Malfoy introducing the first years to Slytherin. Damn, she'd left too early to miss the crowd on the way back.

Malfoy looked over at her, a glint coming into his eyes, and she raised her mental shields. There was no way that the blonde git knew Legilimency, but training the reflex would be good for her.

"I see you haven't gotten kicked out yet, Granger, surprised you haven't been purged yet, to be honest," Malfoy sneered at her, using his genuinely impressive ability to make her name sound like an insult worse than just calling her a Mudblood or something bland and uninspired as that. She really had to give it to him, it was a skill she had yet to accomplish, despite her work into the subject.

Nevertheless, she had her own social weapons, as she sighed dramatically, shaking her head pitifully, "Oh, Draco, I see you haven't learned your lessons from last year. Perhaps we'll have to reteach them?"

The reminder of the humiliation she had given to him last year when he challenged her to a duel and mopped the floor with his face flashed for a moment, before sliding into a well hidden grimace and teeth gnash.

She gave no quarter, and continued to stare him down, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Luckily for her, Malfoy was the first to break. Hermione had no desire to duel Malfoy in public, such a visible fight would genuinely threaten her place at Hogwarts.

Best to be seen as uncrossable, rather than be crossed and stop them.

He mumbled something about heading to bed, pushing through the group of confunded first years up the stairs in a speedy walk, as she gestured at the group, giving a faux apology, "Oh, don't mind Draco, he likes to act much more superior than he truly is. Just ignore him, and you'll be fine."

Most of the first years looked at the muggleborn who told off the heir to a powerful House like a little boy being sent off without his supper like she was some kind of witch (Damn, she thought she had the magic idioms drummed out). Barring one, who glared at her evilly, who must have heard of her from some older student.

Regardless, they were not the true target for the lesson she was giving today, that would be the other older years who scattered about the Common Room watching the theatre with active attention. It was a reminder of her power, a reminder not to mess with her.

She climbed the steps to her dormitory with a spring in her step. This would probably grant her a few weeks of peace to study.

AN: Also, looking for an editor on this story. I'm trying to go for quantity NaNoWriMo this month, so I'm looking for someone to double check my work, before I post. If you're interested, PM me, and I'll send you a copy of the second chapter for editing "tryouts" some time in the next week or so.