Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction. I do, however, make millions of dollars writing disclaimers.

The white tiled floor of King's Cross station shone brightly with sun rays that slanted down from the high windows. On it, a party consisting of three wizards and three witches walked briskly towards a pillar between Platforms 9 and 10. The four youngest of the group were pushing large trunks along in carts, the wheels of which were squealing like mice as they walked. One by one, with the rest keeping lookout, the wizards and witches walked through the pillar as if it weren't corporally tangible, moving straight through the seemingly solid wall.

First to rush through the portal to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was a bespectacled young man with hair as black as ink. He turned and brought his cart to the end of the platform, where a vibrant scarlet steam engine was waiting. Wizards and witches crowded the busy platform, loading luggage onto the train and saying goodbyes. Harry glanced back whence he came and witnessed Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Molly and Arthur striding through the wrought-iron archway.

"Come, now," said Molly while guiding the teenagers towards the train. "No time to dally!"

"We were nearly late," breathed Hermione as Ron and Harry helped her hoist her trunk onto the train.

"We could always fly," said Ron with a grin that exposed yellow teeth, as no more than 48 hours ago he had been a lot taller and fuzzier. "Reckon I might manage a better landing the second time around."

"The car's gone, though," said Harry, dragging his own heavy trunk onto the train. "It's still wandering around the forest, I think."

"That, and you'd be expelled before you even walked through the gate," said Hermione reproachfully. "Funny, isn't it, that you only remember the glamor of being the boy who flew to school, and not the boy whimpering in front of a screaming Howler in the Great Hall."

"Hagrid said Fluffy was still wandering round the forest too," said Ron as the four of them carried Ginny's trunk through to the luggage racks. "Hope he and the Anglia are giving the centaurs a right bruising."

"Ron, don't you think that's a bit judgmental?" began Hermione, but Harry shot her an incredulous look.

"I don't recall any of them standing up when you were begging them not to hurt you." Harry looked slightly indignant.

"Right, well, I don't know... they've got their own... it's different..." Hermione's sentence was reduced to mumbling while the last of their trunks was deposited on the rack.

The group set off to find a place to sit, with Ginny carrying a cage with an erratically hooting tiny grey owl inside, Hermione carrying her massive ginger cat, and Ron carrying his glowing Mermish Starflower. During their search for a free section, they came across a pair of protuberant eyes staring out at them from within a compartment. They belonged to a girl with a sweet smile and long, dirty-blond hair under what appeared to be a crown made of stickerbrush. Understandably, the students on their way to Hogwarts had opted to overlook Luna Lovegood's compartment, except for one. Neville Longbottom was sitting in the corner, looking bemused.

The four entered and greeted Luna and Neville warmly. After several hugs were exchanged, Luna sat down across from Neville, and Hermione sat next to him, with Harry and Ginny sitting beside Luna. Ron was looking for a place to stow his flower when Neville stood and took it off his hands, then slipped in between Harry and Luna in a movement he had clearly thought to be stealthy. Ron shot Harry a furtive look and received a grin, before taking his seat beside Hermione.

"How's Xeno?" asked Ron, looking at Luna. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs subtly.

"He's ashamed," said Luna lightly, though there was a hint of shame in her voice as well. "And quite upset about the Snorkack horn. He wasn't aware they explode."

Hermione seemed to be waging an internal war, but her wish to be polite won and she did not argue.

"Yeah..." Ron looked a bit confused. "Understandable, though, what he did, don't give him too much hell over it."

"You're looking quite peaky, Ron. Are you experiencing an infestation of Wrackspurts?"

"Oh, that," said Ron. "Er—Spattergroit. After-effects."

"Oh no, I don't think so."

Luna did not elaborate, and began perusing a copy of The Quibbler, upside down of course.

"Ron, we've got to go to the prefects' car to brief them on their duties," said Hermione, sounding absolutely excited about it. "We mustn't be late."

She practically had to drag him out of the compartment and through the aisle towards the front of the train where the prefects and teachers sat.

"There's an empty compartment, maybe we could, y'know, get lost on the way there." Ron grinned to her, but soon closed his mouth, as his slimy teeth wouldn't help tempt her.

"We're on a train, Ron," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "It's a straight path. Besides, you've got puppy breath."

Ron groaned, subconsciously running his hand through his hair, which was a much duller shade of bloodred around the time of his transformations.

"Why can't we call it something nicer?"

"That was the nicer name for it, and don't you growl at me."

The two were so concentrated on each other that they didn't notice the familiar passerby on their way to the prefects' car.

Back at the compartment populated by Dumbledore's Army leaders, Harry yawned lightly, adjusted his glasses, and glanced towards the window. They were exiting London, and now speeding past fields full of cows and sheep, and grassy hills that glared lime green in the sunlight. Harry flattened himself sideways along the bench in a relaxed position and hoisted his feet up onto Ginny's lap. She looked at him with one brow raised.

"Just who gave you permission to use me as a footstool?"

"Those are the feet that lived." Harry grinned and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Attention must be paid."

"My feet may not be the chosen feet, but they're still more than capable of giving you a kick in the arse."

"Best leave my arse alone," said Harry slyly. "It's the cho... cho... Cho!"

Harry sat up, staring at the compartment door as it slid open. An Asian woman walked through the door, her long jet-black hair fluttering behind her with each step, and her rust-colored plaid kilt flowing in her stride. She greeted everyone kindly, and fixed her sights on Harry. Ginny's eyes were shifting from Cho's nervous smile to Harry's goofy grin, gradually narrowing.

"Hello, Harry," said Cho. "Haven't seen you since the... Event."

"The funeral, you mean," said Ginny.

"Yeah, you surprised me a bit," said Harry. "Didn't think you'd come."

"Fred helped me against Umbridge." Cho smiled sadly. "Though, we sort of had a falling out after what Marietta did..."

Ginny made a small cough that sounded a lot like 'sneak.'

"Is Marietta with you?" asked Harry.

"No, her family moved to the west after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took over."

Luna's noisy cackle sounded through the train; Neville had just whispered something to her, and he was now sniggering to himself quietly. Nonplussed, Cho perched herself next to Neville, across from Harry.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry. "Not to sound rude or anything, of course."

"I'm studying under the new Transfiguration teacher."

"Who is it?"

"Can't tell you." Cho gave Harry a playful smile.

Neville groaned. Cho looked at him quickly, causing her long black hair to flow behind her; Ginny's scowl grew more pronounced.

"That's a beautiful flower," remarked Cho, her eyes lighting up at the translucent starflower, the leaves of which were slowly uncurling. "It moves?"

"It curls—er—for no reason at all," said Neville obtusely. "I like Herbology."

The door slid open once again, and the Head Boy and Head Girl stepped into the compartment, without noticing the new member of the group.

"Neville Longbottom likes Herbology? No!" gasped Ron.

Cho rose to her feet and made eye contact with Ron; his eyes widened for a moment, but then his grin widened as well. They stared at each other for a while, with Ron beaming smugly, but remained silent. Hermione sat next to Ginny and whispered something to her, to which she nodded, with a brief glance towards Harry. Finally, Cho shrugged, beginning to look flustered under Ron's gaze.

"They were lucky," said Cho dismissively. "That's all."

"Lucky they were facing an inferior team, perhaps."

Ron crossed his arms at Cho's scowl, and she made to leave, but peeked back into the compartment to address Harry one last time.

"I've got a job at the Three Broomsticks, part-time, you should all come by."

"We would have anyway," Ron called to her as she left. He went to slide the compartment door shut and turned back to the group, his proud grin still active. "The Tornadoes suck."

"They did get routed, didn't they?" said Hermione, recalling Ron's ecstatic reaction to a rare Chudley Cannons victory. "Though it's no surprise, they're no match for the Cannons."

Ron gave Hermione a grateful look. "Keep that up and you'll just have to deal with my breath."

"For the love of Odo's broken wand," said Neville in disgust. "Find an empty room."

Ron narrowed his eyes and began to respond, but was interrupted by a smiling, dimpled woman opening their compartment door.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"Trolley lady!" said Harry. "Oh—er, sorry, never got your name—but, anyway, it's great to see you again, and we'll take the lot!" Harry thrust a handful of gold Galleons in front of the trolley lady.

"Last year is it?" she remarked, looking between Harry and Ron. They nodded. "Terrible shame. You two have given me more business these past school years than any group of students the school has ever seen. Oh well, enjoy your last year."

The students stocked up on sweets. Harry was feeling particularly adventurous with a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, popping beans into his mouth without even glancing at their color. His reactions were generally mild, though he lost interest after tasting an odd indigo bean.

"Hermione!" shouted Neville, one of his cheeks bulging as he chomped on a Chocolate Frog. "Look!"

Neville handed her the Chocolate Frog card, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny glanced over her shoulder to inspect it. Instead of one witch or wizard in the small portrait on the card, there were three, though two of them were lurking in the background behind the prominent bushy haired witch.

Hermione Jean Granger

Currently a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

One third of the famous Golden Trio that defeated the Dark Lord, this studious Muggleborn is known for her academic achievement, brilliant magical skill, activism, and founding of Dumbledore's Army. Miss Granger can read Ancient Runes, is proficient in Arithmancy, and enjoys literature and gingers.

"Gingers?" squeaked Hermione, breathless.

"Well, yeah," said Ron. "Old Bertie's got a point: between me and Crookshanks, you've got a fetish going on."

Hermione slugged him on the shoulder feebly, still staring at her card. Tears were threatening to streak down her cheeks, though she was smiling from ear to ear.

"We're in the background," said Harry. "That means we must have cards too."

"Wicked!" said Ron, taking the card and examining it. "Though, sadly, that's three more I'll have to collect before I have a full set."

"Boo-hoo," teased Ginny, taking the card in her hand. "Oh, bugger, she's gone."

"Well you can't expect me to hang around all day!" Hermione smiled and placed the card in her pocket.

A knock came at the door of the compartment. Neville, closest to the door, stood up and saw four first-years he recognized from Fred's funeral outside, though only one of them was tall enough to look through the window. Neville opened the door to admit them.

"Bandits!" said Harry. "This your first year?"

"Yes," said the only female of the quartet, who was eyeing Ron uncomfortably, uneased by his grizzled state. Ron offered her a warm smile, but his teeth, darkened and slick with saliva, only served to further spook her.

A proud-looking boy with a blonde buzz cut and formidable jaw placed his hands on his hips and gave Ron's Head Boy badge a skeptical look.

"You're Head Boy?"

"Who else?"

"But George says you wouldn't know a Patronus from a platypus."

"Oi," growled Ron. "I could do a Patronus Charm before he could!"

"It remains to be proven," said a boy with wavy, shoulder-length black hair and black boots. "Whether or not you were aware it wasn't a Platypus Charm."

Ron narrowed his eyes and mumbled, surprised that a group of first-years could be so brazen.

"Which House d'you reckon you'll be Sorted in?" asked Harry diplomatically.

"We'll probably be separated," said Roque, the blonde boy. "We figured Gryffindor, but Ellie's too cowardly. Then we considered Ravenclaw, but Munky's too dimwitted. As for Hufflepuff, well, Blackboot's much too lazy."

Roque's three companions scowled behind his back as he smirked.

"Slytherin, then," mumbled Ron under his breath. "The lot of you."

"Well, if you're feeling nervous," said Hermione, nudging Ron warningly. "Stop by Hagrid's hut for tea."

"He's a great friend," said Harry wistfully. "Helped me through first year."

"What if he, er, steps on one of us?"

"Then make friends with Pomfrey too," suggested Neville.

"Who?"

"The Healer."

"I think you should take that advice," said Blackboot, the black-haired boy, to Ron.

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT!" roared Ron, standing. "Go on, back to your compartments, before I dock points from whatever House is unfortunate enough to have you!"

"But—but—even the Head Boy can't dock—"

"Of course I can! I also have access to Filch's thumbscrews!"

Ron made a quick movement towards the first years, and they dashed out of the door with Ron bounding after them and growling menacingly. Shortly after Ron left the compartment, a crash echoed through the train, followed by a sneering voice that, unfortunately for the occupants of the compartment, sounded familiar.

"Watch where you're going, weasel! Ugh, you're disgusting!"

"Shove off, Malfoy!"

Harry glanced around the compartment in shock, before hastily stepping out to the aisle to investigate. A pale, blonde boy with a pointed face was wiping his robes dramatically, as if he'd been contaminated by his collision with Ron.

"Malfoy?" asked Harry dully. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on the Hogwarts Express on September the first, you dolt, what do you think?"

"I'll tell you what I think!"

Harry was now joined by his fellow D.A. leaders; Luna wielded her wand, mobilized for a fight. Hermione cut across Harry as he began to voice his opinion of Malfoy.

"Don't bother, Harry," said Hermione, before glancing at Malfoy with a boastful smirk. "Is it detention you're after, Draco?"

"Yeah," added Ron, puffing out his chest to display his Head Boy badge. "I think, perhaps, sixty detentions ought to straighten you out."

Malfoy was poised to spit a response back at Ron, but Harry spoke again, still looking incredulous.

"Who let you back? You're a Death Eater."

"The Death Eaters are dead," said Malfoy, and he tensed his eyebrows a bit, contemplating the irony. "Nobody's a Death Eater anymore, and I'll have you know, I defected during the Battle, even while the Dark Lord was still alive."

"Yeah, about three times," quipped Neville.

"Dumbledore's portrait vouched for me," said Malfoy with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Out of pity, no doubt," said Hermione before ushering her friends back into the compartment; many of them had drawn their wands as well.

Atop a vast mountain, an enormous castle's shape was visible as it blotted out stars in the night sky, and by the golden blips of light shining from its many windows. The group traveled on a coach pulled by a Thestral, which was now quite apparent to all of them. Ron was mumbling something about the Giant Squid upending the Battle-Axe Bandits' boats while they stared at Hogwarts castle, which, with their help, had been repaired to its former glory.