It was decided almost the minute that he crossed the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 that an empty platform 9 ¾ was nothing short of unsettling.

Having departed from Grimmauld Place an hour earlier than Harry was used to, they'd been successful in avoiding early morning traffic into central city London. Be it via the Floo network, by car, taxi, bus or Portkey, any and all means of transport were an absolute nightmare on the 1st September.

The Muggles thought nothing of it as it also coincided with the back to school drama on their side of the world. The more eccentric and stuck in the times wizards and witches who decidedly stood out from the general crowd were quickly forgotten as the day-to-day working man and woman had more pressing things to worry about than the man wearing floor length robes or the child carrying an owl in a cage and heaving a trunk twice their size.

It was a new experience for Harry to arrive at the magical platform without the theatrics that normally accompanied his life. He remembered that his first year hadn't been all too bad as the Weasleys had eventually helped him find his way but he chalked it up to the newness of the whole situation—his first introduction to the magical world, maybe also beginner's luck—that it fell into the 'out of the ordinary' category. Dobby had pretty much ruined his second year by closing the barrier on them and his third year he'd had to be escorted by Aurors and driven in a special car for fear that his godfather might murder him on his way to Hogwarts.

Harry stopped himself just shy of snorting out loud.

Strolling up and down the platform with only a black, scraggly dog for company and the occasional sighs, whines and croaks emitted by the waiting train was oddly peaceful. It was a grey and cloudy day in Britain—not much out of the ordinary at all. His trunk had been shrunken down to the size of a pencil sharpener to fit in his pocket and Hedwig had been ecstatic to make the journey to Hogwarts riding the air currents. She hated that wretched cage so much that Harry couldn't force himself to lock her in there hours on end when he now had the chance to set her free. He'd received countless grateful offers of dead mice and frogs from his little friend after he'd told her the news.

As he rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet (half an hour to go before people started arriving) his mind flashed back to the events during and after the Quidditch World Cup.

The crisis with the Death Eaters had ended up being resolved by the Aurors, though a large part of their success was thanks to a few people like Sirius, Remus and Harry who bravely fought the Death Eaters and won enough time for the authorities to arrive . The Daily Prophet had informed them the next day that none of the men hiding behind their masks had been captured. The had all fled the second the Dark Mark hit the sky. Luckily for the Ministry of Magic, the injuries suffered hadn't been severe, not a single person had spent more than three days recuperating at St Mungo's but no amount of potions or healing spells could cure the grief and fear brought about by the reappearance of the Dark Mark.

The incident was officially ruled as nothing more than assault and vandalism by a group of what the Ministry speculated were rowdy teenagers, too drunk, stupid or uncaring to realize the implications of their actions. As for the Dark Mark, that went on unexplained. The most preferred theory was that it hadn't been the Dark Mark at all, merely a forgery of the original one meant to scare the Aurors long enough to allow the criminals their chance to escape. There was no one willing to so much as consider the implications of it being the real Dark Mark and the Ministry felt safe in their knowledge that no one outside the inner circle of Voldemort's own Death Eaters had known the incantation.

The message had been spread: 'World Cup interrupted by fake Dark Mark. Citizens have no reason to worry.' Within a week nearly everyone had gotten over the attack and immersed themselves in the preparations to head back to school.

Harry watched the minute hand on the platform clock strike ten fifteen on the dot and could only marvel at the unrelentless human capacity for self-assurance. He struggled between feeling frustrated that the Ministry would continue to spout comforting lies to the people and relief that the attack hadn't been too bad and the magical world was fast recovering. It would just make the inevitable return of the Dark Lord all the more devastating for sure, but he knew they weren't ready to accept the truth—not yet.

The scratching sound of wheels on pavement reached his ears as the first handful of students to arrive crossed the barrier and hurried to load their belongings onto the train. In a matter of heartbeats, the train station was teeming with children of all ages running around greeting old friends and trying to escape their parents' embarrassingly tight clutches.

The clock struck quarter to eleven.

A little boy—possibly six or seven years old—stood watching a few feet away as his mother and father bid farewell to their eldest daughter. The girl had one foot on the train steps but twirled around at the last second and picked up her little brother in her arms. She placed a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek and laughed with her parents as he furiously tried to wipe it off and shove her away from him in the same breath. Placing one last smooch on his head, she set him on the ground, said a last few words to her parents, and boarded the train.

As the now family of three turned to leave the station, Harry remained transfixed on the little boy. He stared as they reached the barrier and caught him glancing one last time at the large, red train. His hand had drifted to the cheek where his sister had placed her kisses, his bottom lip wobbling tellingly.

Harry had to look away as the little boy's father picked him up and placed his head on his shoulder, speaking muted words of comfort that were swallowed whole when they crossed the barrier back into King's Cross. An age-old pain had erupted in Harry's chest—one that he hadn't felt since moving to Grimmauld Place with his godfather and Remus.

Something warm and wet touched his hand and he glanced down to be met with a pair of round, dark brown eyes looking up at him worriedly. Harry shook his head and pushed his melancholic thoughts to the side. He crouched down on the balls of his feet and let Padfoot rest his front paws on Harry's knees, bringing them at eye level to each other.

"You worry too much, Padfoot. It just hits you sometimes, you know?" Harry knew without a doubt that his godfather knew exactly what he was talking about and after another lick (this time to his cheek) no more was said on the subject.

The clock struck ten to eleven.

A family of redheads and their brown haired friend stormed onto the platform. Herding the six Hogwarts students like dogs did to their sheep, Molly Weasley held her arms spread wide and her eyes peeled for any obstacles in her way. She was urging them onto the train with the practice and ease of a commander ordering his soldiers to war. Nothing stood in that woman's way as she tried to get her family safely on board and shipped off to school for the year.

The Weasleys reached the edge of the platform and converged in a group. Despite the late hour, they made no move to get on the train and it took Harry a long time to realize the reason for it, by which time the lump in his throat that he'd bravely fought down had returned.

"Looks like it's time for me to go," Harry murmured. "Take care of yourself and listen to Moony, and take care of him, too. This month was a tough one, I don't think he's used to having people around when he turns anymore. It was rough." Sirius whined and bobbed his head. It had been because of the werewolf transformation four days prior that Remus hadn't been able to come say goodbye to Harry.

"See you around, Snuffles."

Sirius barked once, wagged his tail, and trotted away. Harry stood where he was for a moment, then took a deep breath and approached the Weasleys.

"Mrs Weasley," he said, tapping her on the shoulder. In an instant she had whirled around and had her arms wrapped around him.

"Harry, dear!" she exclaimed. "It is so good to see you. We've hardly had a word from you in the last few months, you had us all worried sick. I've had to wrestle the car keys from Ron more than once in the past month and let me tell you, in the last weeks it was him who had to keep them away from me. You should have sent word."

Properly ashamed in himself in the face of Mrs Weasley's genuine concern, Harry bowed his shoulders and dropped his head between them as she continued talking at him and patting him down in a motherly fashion, muttering about his aunt and uncle having finally learned to feed him right. He blushed furiously at the comments yet Mrs Weasley would not be dissuaded and continued her tangent.

She grabbed him up in another hug and this time Harry spotted Ron and Hermione over her shoulder, waiting for their turn at him.

"I'm sorry to have worried you all," he spoke to all of them, "but I promise I'm better than I've ever been before. You have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, we can tell, you look like you've finally put on some muscles, mate. If I squint my eyes, I think you might come up to chin now," said Ron, pushing past his mother to get to his friend.

Harry laughed and uncharacteristically pulled him into a hug. Though he was caught off guard by such a show of affection from his usually reserved friend, Ron returned the embrace enthusiastically.

"Harry, I can't believe you didn't tell us how you were doing. We didn't even get your reply about the World Cup until the day after," Hermione scolded him once Ron let go of him and threw herself at him, trapping him in her hug.

"I missed you too, Hermione," he said.

"Did you really? You look like you've done pretty well on your own," she teased him.

"Not completely on my own, I've had some help." At her inquiring look, he shook his head to let her know they'd talk about it later. She levelled him with another look which told him, 'We'd better, or there will be Hell to pay'.

Next were Fred and George Weasley. The two jokers of the family were not to be outdone by the rest, they each hugged Harry from opposite sides and tried to lift him up in the air. They groaned dramatically, bemoaning their weak arms and making a big show of lining their arms next to his own to compare.

"Yup, just as we thought, brother mine," said George gravely.

"We'll have to keep an eye on this one before the ladies grab a hold of him," Fred grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes at Fred and George's antics and waved them off. He knew he had changed a bit during the summer, he'd grown a head taller and yes, Sirius' training had also gained him some definition but it was nowhere as extreme as the twins were making it out to be.

They joked around a little more, exchanging small talk amongst themselves in between loaded looks that hinted at a real talk approaching later on the train. But no amount of idle conversation could make Harry forget that he still had one last Weasley to greet. As though his thoughts had called her to appear, Ginny pushed her brothers out of the way and propped herself in front of Harry. Locking her gaze with those powerful green eyes, she felt herself regress for a second slightly to the blushing and clumsy ten year old that stuck her elbow in the butter dish but another look at the smile on his face—the one she'd like to think was just for her—had her pulling herself back together.

Harry, for his part, felt as though those two months spent exchanging letters and stealing away moments with their mirrors did not do enough to prepare him for finally facing her in person.

"Hey Gin."

"Hi Harry."

Eyes locked tight on each other, they didn't notice the curious eyes of two witches studying their every move.

Harry didn't know what to say. They'd had countless interactions face to face through a magical mirror and by putting pen to paper but now that he had her right in front of him, where he's secretly wanted to have her the whole time, he couldn't come up with enough words to string a sentence together. Harry thought he finally knew what the troll had felt like when he'd been hit on the head with his own club. He lowered his eyes from hers.

"We, uh, should probably get on the train now before it leaves."

Ginny blinked and Harry wished for Voldemort to show up and do away with him right there and then.

Lucky for him, the train whistle rang out before he could make more of a fool of himself. Mrs Weasley wasted no time in pushing them towards the doors, he thought she might just carry their luggage inside and find them seats too if she could.

The doors slid shut with a hiss. Mrs Weasley tried to yell out a few last minute goodbyes but was thwarted by the last warning bell. The wheels worked fast in picking up speed and soon they were travelling through the countryside of England heading for Scotland.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It took them a while to find an empty compartment that suited their tastes but they ended up settling near the front of the train. They settled down in their seats and Harry did not have to wait long for the inquisition to begin.

Hermione, being Hermione, was the first to speak up.

"Just where have you been, Harry? We've sent you countless letters but they'd only ever reach you if we used Hedwig, otherwise they'd return with the owl or just never leave! We spent all summer wondering what could've possibly happened to you and now you show up like nothing happened, like you didn't disappear on us, looking...well," —she made a helpless gesture with her hands before waving one to encompass his entire form— "good."

"If you're this surprised to see me looking a bit better, I don't want you to tell how I must have looked like before," said Harry wryly. "The reason no other owl except Hedwig could find me is because I haven't been at the Dursleys'—"

"Ah-ha! I knew it!" crowed Hermione. "I knew something fishy was going on, didn't I tell you, Ron? I said something didn't seem right to me and I was right."

Ron looked at her strangely and said, "Yeah and I agreed with you, Hermione. It's half of what we've been talking about since you came to the Burrow."

"If you haven't been at the Dursleys', then where were you?" demanded Hermione.

"I was as safe as I could be, I promise, I just couldn't tell you where that was at the time and frankly, I shouldn't tell you now either," Hermione was about to make her displeasure known but he silenced her with a look and continued, "but you've been my best friends for years now and I don't want to start keeping secrets. You can't tell anyone else though, not even your parents, not yet. This has to remain between us."

"You can trust us," said Ron, then he turned to his sister. "Ginny, go find your friends, Harry needs to talk to us alone."

The youngest Weasley flushed an angry red from head to toe and hissed, "What makes you think Harry doesn't want to talk to me too, Ron?"

"Harry wants to tell his friends something important so just run along with your little friends and we'll see each other at dinner, OK?"

Ginny's face heated up as her lips turned white from fury. She made a move to reach into her jeans for her wand but a warm hand enveloped her own before she could grab it. The sparks that tingled up her arm from that one touch made it clear to her who it was that was trying to restrain her from granting her brother a one way trip to the infirmary.

"Ron," began Harry, "I want Ginny to be here to hear this. She's my friend too and she deserves to know what's been going on."

Both Harry and Ginny opted to ignore the fact that she already knew way more than either of his best friends; they didn't think that would help smooth matters along.

"You don't have to be nice to her about it just because she's my little sister," explained Ron, "we can—"

"She's also my friend," stated Harry. "Drop it, mate, she's staying."

Ron had only heard Harry use what he liked to call his 'mission voice' during the times when the trio had sneaked off on dangerous adventures together. In the current setting, it was disconcerting to hear it make an appearance and even more so that the reason it had was his sister. Ron turned to Hermione but she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

Harry pulled Ginny to sit back down next to him and ignored the warmth travelling up his arm from their sides brushing against each other. He didn't realize that he still had a hand covering her own (Ginny certainly took notice) as he began the abridged tale of what had happened to him during the summer. It was as he was nearing the point when the three of them had broken into the Department of Mysteries that Harry stumbled over his words, thought quickly, and recovered.

He didn't mention the prophecy.

Hermione sponged up every last detail of Harry's tale and had already formulated a question for each and every concern or doubt that she had found. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she failed to notice Ginny's reaction to what Harry was saying: mainly her subdued demeanour—she did not look as surprised at the turn of events as Ron and Hermione did.

"Now you see why I could barely write to either of you. And even when I could, I couldn't put much in there for fear that it might somehow get lost or intercepted along the way," finished Harry.

"I suppose so," said Hermione, "but what I still don't understand is why you couldn't have saved us all that worrying by having Professor Dumbledore at least tell us that you were somewhere safe with Sir-Snuffles."

"He couldn't have told you anything about me because he has no idea where I've been spending my summer," Harry answered, tone flat at the mention of the Headmaster.

"How could you not tell Dumbledore? He's the greatest wizard of the age, he's—"

"—supposed to know about these things, Harry," Hermione interrupted Ron. "Especially since you've been living with a," she lowered her voice and cast her eyes around, "convicted murderer that has spent the last twelve years in Azkaban and his werewolf best friend."

Harry knew that Hermione meant well, even if her choice of words sometimes left a lot of things to be desired. He could see the way she was viewing this, he knew how she tended to favour logic over emotion but he needed her to understand that in this case, emotion and logic came hand in hand.

"That convicted murderer is my godfather, Hermione, and he was my dad's best friend along with the werewolf Dumbledore hired as our professor last year," Harry pointed out none too gently and was mollified when Hermione lowered her gaze. "They didn't come into my bedroom in the middle of the night to kidnap me—I wanted to leave."

"We understand, Harry," said Hermione. "We know you've never liked living with the Dursleys…"

But you don't know, thought Harry. You don't know what it was like and I'll make sure you never do.

"...but is that reason enough to go behind Dumbledore's back?"

"I don't trust Dumbledore. That's why I kept this from him and why I'm not keeping it from you. I trust you, I don't trust him."

On that last sombre note, the train compartment fell silent. For the remainder of the trip, they kept up light conversation marked by typical Weasley family anecdotes and Hermione's vacation abroad and although no one mentioned Dumbledore again, Harry was certain that it was just be a matter of time before they were discussing it again. Only this time, his best friends wouldn't be giving up so easily.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A tingle shot down his spine, his toes curled toward the soles of his shoes and the hairs on his arm stood on end. Taking a deep breath, Harry would swear he could feel magic trembling in the air. It's source? Hogwarts.

Since the phenomenon of seeing magical energy in their air had begun (he had thought back and realized that he'd always been able to feel the magic, it had just taken being able to see it with his own eyes to realize that the two sensations belonged together) Harry had never encountered magic as strong as the one encasing Hogwarts.

With this new awareness in place, it seemed as though the old magic of the castle was greeting him properly for the very first time. It gripped him in its embrace, swaddled him tight in sheets of rumbling and tingling magic, then dipped him down into a river and allowed the currents to take him away.

He made a valiant effort to ignore all the stares and whispers that followed him around as they stepped through the main doors and walked towards some empty seats on the Gryffindor table. He thought he'd known what it felt like to be gawked and pointed at like an animal at the zoo but clearly the combination of his growth spurt coupled with the new meat on his bones had thrown the entire school in a tailspin that they didn't seem keen to recover from quite so soon.

"You think they'd at least pretend to be looking at something else instead of outright staring at you like you're a piece of meat on the market," said Ginny. "I don't think it was this bad when they thought you were the heir of Slytherin."

"They're teenager and they're girls, dangle a boy who is good looking and famous at the same time and they fall over themselves just to get his attention," Hermione sniffed distastefully.

"You're a girl, too," said Ron, "and you're the same age they are."

"It's different," Hermione insisted. "Harry's our friend, not some piece of eye candy. No offence, Harry."

"I don't even know if I should be offended or not. It's just a bit uncomfortable, to have them all staring like that—at me," muttered Harry.

"You're not the only one who's caught their attention, you know," said Ginny, elbowing Harry and tilting her head in her brother's direction.

Ron's head swivelled around like an owl's and sure enough, he spotted a group of third year girls from Ravenclaw staring at him with clear interest. He started walking with a new spring in his step and didn't notice the subdued frown painted on Hermione's lips.

Harry watched with decreasing levels of interest as the first years were sorted into their houses and cheered with his housemates as the newcomers joined the Gryffindor folds. He studied the young children carefully, trying to discern if there were any glaring differences between them that would deem them fitting for one house or the other. But he was no Sorting Hat, he wasn't given the advantage of full disclosure into their innocent minds so he couldn't say just what it was about each individual that made them fit into Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.

The last student having finally been sorted, Dumbledore stepped up to the dais and raised his palms to encourage silence among the student body. Shushing each other repeatedly, the Hall finally fell into silence and let the Headmaster say his piece.

"Good evening students of Hogwarts! I bid a warm welcome back to those returning for another year and formally declare my excitement at welcoming so many new faces to our community." He smiled at the first years then waited for their excited jitters to subside. "I will do us all a favour and keep this announcement short as I am sure you are all eager to get to the feast. Firstly, a reminder to all that under no circumstances are students allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest unattended..."

Harry's thoughts drifted when the Headmaster went into some variation of the same speech he'd heard twice before but his ears perked to attention when he mentioned something entirely unexpected.

"Unfortunately, I am forced to announce that this year there will be no Quidditch tournament and all practices and tryouts will hereby be cancelled until next year."

Chaos erupted in the Great Hall as everyone with a voice made their opinion known by shouting it over each other and shaking their fists at the professors.

The Headmaster calmly dug out his wand from his colourful robes and shot purple sparks into the air. The tempers that had begun to swing out of control started to cool down and those that had stood to make their points clear (the Weasley twins) sank back down slowly.

BAM!

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open. A large man with a limp strode into the hall. His wooden leg clanked continuously against the polished floors, creating a tense tempo as he headed straight for the head table heedless of the hundreds of eyes following him.

Harry, too, stared at the newcomer, Hhs gaze burned into the man until he was able to get a glimpse of his scarred face and deep etched scowl when the light from the hovering candles illuminated the inside of his hood. Whispers escalated to shouts when the man dropped his hood and let out a mane of knotted grey hair and exposed his face for all to see.

"Blimey, that's Mad-Eye Moody right there," gasped Ron. "My dad told me tons of stories about him, says most of the Aurors now think he's gone mental since he's so paranoid all the time. I heard he doesn't sleep unless he's got a knife in one hand and his wand in the other."

Ron's assessment was carried down the Gryffindor table. Harry's classmates had leaned in closer to his group of friends when they had heard Ron talk about the infamous Auror and were now liberally staring at the man in question as he limped up to Professor Dumbledore.

Moody reached the head table and shook with the Headmaster. He leaned in to whisper something in the old man's ear before stalking off and taking a seat at the table next to Professor Snape who scowled at the man and received an equally malicious glare in return.

"Ah yes!" Dumbledore exclaimed, "I seem to have forgotten in my haste to impart other news that our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be none other than the famed former Auror, Alastor Moody!"

There was a small smattering of applause. Dumbledore took his students' hesitation in stride and clapped along with those few conscious enough to bring their hands together.

"As I was saying before, there will be no Quidditch this year because the school will be taking part in something much more grand and, dare I say it, spectacular. This year, after a century long wait, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be proud to host the Triwizard Tournament!"

Excited murmurs erupted in the hall. Friends turned towards each other to discuss this new piece of information and in their enthusiasm barely caught the rest of Professor Dumbledore's speech.

Harry listened with one ear to what the Headmaster was saying but kept the other one alert to the whispers which still circulated the Great Hall. The mention of this tournament hadn't come as a complete surprise to him—after all, isn't something like this exactly what he vision of Voldemort had hinted at?—but his reaction was decidedly much less enthusiastic than the rest of his classmates'.

As professor Dumbledore mentioned the monetary reward for winning the tournament, Harry took notice as his best friend's eyes widened in clear interest. Ron was not the only one who seemed intrigued by the prospect as a good portion of the Hogwarts students were thinking along the same lines as the youngest male Weasley.

Harry could only shake his head at them. They had no idea what it was like to constantly be the centre of (unwanted) attention wherever they went, to be singled out from the rest of the population because of something he couldn't remember doing (and that had cost him the lives of his parents).

The Headmaster had finished his speech. Food materialized on the long tables and Harry was brought out of his stupor as Ron jostled him in his hurry to be the first to sample the marinated chicken wings. Scanning the assortment of dishes, he scooped large portions of everything that looked good on his plate and dug in.

"So waf zuy zink, may?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione complained, "could you please swallow before you attempt to start a conversation?"

"I'm a growing boy, Hermione, I need my strength. And look at Harry, he's eating almost as much as I am and you're not saying anything to him about it."

"That's because he doesn't talk with his mouth full and spray the rest of us with bits of his meal."

"Oi! I did not—"

"What was it you were asking me, Ron?" Not being in the mood of witnessing his friends have a go at one of their famous squabbles, Harry broke their argument before it could begin.

"Oh yeah, I was asking what you thought of the tournament. Pretty sweet, ain't it? I heard Fred and George from down the table talking about finding a way to put their names for the tournament. Can you imagine winning one thousand galleons?" Ron's eyes lost their focus as he stared off into the distance, no doubt imagining the things he would be able to do with all that money.

"I don't know, Ron. I think I've had enough excitement so far to last me a lifetime. I just want a quiet year for once and to watch the competition like everyone else. And anyhow, you heard about the age limit, you have to be over seventeen to even think about entering. How do you plan on passing the security wards that Dumbledore will most likely put in place himself?"

Ron visibly deflated a bit at that thought. "It's probably just something they said to scare us. Besides, wouldn't you want to be named the Hogwarts champion? I know I would."

"You forget, Ron," Ginny spoke up for the first time during the meal, "that in order to be named the champion, you first have to beat the other schools and survive the tasks."

"And I, for one, agree with Harry wholeheartedly on this," began Hermione. "I think it would be ridiculous to try and get into the tournament when you're not even of legal age to perform magic outside of school. You wouldn't stand a chance against the other champions, they have three years of education on you. I'm not entirely sure about the tournament in general but if the Ministry has approved and the rules have been reviewed by Professor Dumbledore then I suppose they've worked hard to fix their past mistakes; especially if some of the things I've read about the past tournaments actually happened."

The wind had shifted in another direction and the sails on Ron's ship went limp. He grumbled a bit about his friends not having a sense of adventure before the food sitting on his plate became his main focus.

His friends followed his example and finished their meal in silence, the foursome then leaving the Great Hall together to head to their warm beds in Gryffindor Tower.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

That year, September 1st had fallen on a Saturday, meaning that the students at Hogwarts had one day of rest left before classes started.

The less organized individuals spent the dreary day holed up inside their common rooms or the library, finishing off whatever assignments they hadn't done over the summer holidays. Those that had finished off everything they'd needed to do were relaxing or, in some very rare cases, studying ahead for that year.

Harry, surprising all of his friends, was one of the people seen studying ahead for that year and sparing some breaks in between reading books to relax with his friends or helping Ron finish his Charms essay. When asked what he was studying for, he wouldn't say. He'd only tell them that they'd find out soon enough and promptly left them to their own devices after supper, returning just before dinner time to an array of questions that he deflected using the same answer he'd given them before.

Luckily for him, Hermione, Ron and Ginny didn't have long to wonder about what was going on with their friend.

Monday morning dawned bright and grey in Scotland. Breakfast had been prepared by the house-elves hours before the students even thought about getting out of bed and was promptly sent up to the House tables as the first trickle started entering the hall with empty stomachs. Harry and his friends were still enjoying their breakfast by the time their Head of House reached them with their schedules for the year.

"Ms Granger, Mr Weasley, Ms Weasley and Mr Potter, here are your schedules for this scholastic year." She handed each of them a piece of square parchment. Her customary stern countenance broke for a few seconds and allowed a small smile to make its appearance. "Might I say congratulations, Mr Potter. Both Professors Babbling and Vector were especially pleased with your results and look forward to working with you this year," that said, she turned down the table to finish handing off the schedules.

"What did she mean by that, Harry?" pounced Hermione. "Why would the Ancient Runes and Arithmancy professors be working with you this year?"

"I wrote to Professor McGonagall over the summer to ask her about changing my electives and she said that I'd only be able to do it if I studied over the summer and passed last year's exam," said Harry reluctantly. "That's what I was doing yesterday when I disappeared after supper. I guess this means I passed."

Before anyone could say anything else, Ginny had thrown her arms around his shoulders and hugged him for all she was worth.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry!" She tightened her arms further and was even more pleased when he hugged her back with as much enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Gin." He grinned at her and, without thinking about it, pecked her on the forehead.

They were not allowed to explore the incident further; Hermione had woken up from her momentary shock and was gushing over Harry's success, wondering what his scores had been and offering her assistance any time if he needed help with anything.

Ron, on the other hand, appeared to be rather affronted at his friend's choice of subject change. "I don't understand, mate. Why would you want to give up easy grades in Care of Magical Creatures and Divination? I thought that's why we decided to take those subjects together." He didn't bother masking the hurt in his tone.

"I'm tired of Trelawney predicting my death every time I enter her classroom and honestly, I don't see how it's helping either one of us to spend time coming up with fake dreams and look for the dog shaped blob in the bloody tea leaves. I should have told you before. I'm not dropping Care of Magical Creature though, so we still have that one together."

Harry hated that his best friend was hurt by his actions but he'd agreed with Sirius and Remus that he'd stop hiding himself and start exploring what really interested him and not stick with what would let him pass by unnoticed. He didn't have to do worse at school than Dudley any more.

"You do realize that now you're leaving me to face that old hag all on my own?" Ron complained.

"I'm sure you'll manage."

They finished eating their breakfast and headed up to the Gryffindor tower to grab their bags—the school year had officially begun.