School has been tough these past few weeks. But, due to the holidays, I could finally kick back and enjoy my time away from the annoying boy who sits next to me. I fear that school might restart, so I'm writing this all as fast as I can. Enjoy!

Voldemort was having a very good day. A very good year, in fact. He'd gotten rid of the boy's godfather in the Department of Mysteries. Admittedly, it had been Bellatrix that had done it, but he had sent her to the Ministry of Magic in the first place, so it was, in fact HE who had disposed of Sirius Black. And then, the boy had been sent to Azkaban for crimes his Death Eaters had committed! Ha! He smirked proudly as the newspaper flew onto his lap as he sipped his morning coffee. But the smirk was quickly wiped off his face at seeing the headline of The Daily Prophet. HARRY POTTER ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN! it shouted out at him in bold black letters, writ large across the front page. There was a picture of Harry underneath it, his limp, black hair hanging in front of his emerald green eyes. Voldemort frowned and kept reading.

'I took an interview with the Minister of Magic, the famed Cornelius Fudge, who was an eyewitness to the disappearance of Mr. Potter.

"It wasn't like many other break-outs we've seen in the history of that prison," he told me, "most of those instances happened when the prisoner attempted to force their way out by breaking the bars, like the Death Eaters did last year, or sneaking out of their cell. This was different. He just, well, disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. A moment later, we heard mocking laughter echoing through the prison."

Voldemort frowned even more. Disappearing in black smoke? That was dark magic. Certainly wouldn't have expected it of the Gryffindor Golden Boy. How had he accessed dark magic?

The Dark Lord soon realized, after minutes of asking various questions on the matter, that these questions could only be answered by Harry.

"Peter, get my wand." He snarled to the small, sandy haired man. "We have some investigating to do."

Meanwhile, unaware that the Dark Lord was soon to come bursting into his room to fire questions at him/impersonate Rita Skeeter, Harry was not having a good time. Ron had dragged him into the dorm room and was furiously questioning why he was talking with the future minions of the Dark Lord.

"Why were you with those Slytherins?" Ron asked.

"Umm, I had a DADA project on finding out about dark spells, so I thought 'Let's ask the Slytherins because they, being Slytherins, might know dark spells?" Harry offered pathetically. Ron did not look fully convinced.

"Couldn't you ask one of the teachers? Snape would've happily provided you dark information. Why not look through the library?"

"Snape probably wouldn't want to talk to us Gryffindors. And the library didn't have books on dark spells. Madam Pince doesn't allow books on those subjects. So my only other option was to talk to the Slytherins."

The redhead seemed to agree with this logic. "True, true."

Harry sighed, relieved. Luckily, Ron wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Literally. He had a feeling that if Ron was a tool, he'd be a hammer. Blunt, thick-headed, and couldn't do gentle if you held a gun to his head.

At the very moment that Harry was stammering up excuses for why he was sitting with the snakes, Hazel was sat on a plush green armchair in the Slytherin common room, listening to Marcus Flint's endless chatter about his family, his mansion, and his pet goldfish called George. Why? It seemed that he had a crush on Hazel, and was hoping to win her over with tales of how George swam under his ornamental bridge, through the forest of coral growing in his seemingly massive tank, over the carved wooden treasure chest resting half-buried in a mountain of sand, finally surfacing to eat the fish food offered to him by his owner. Hazel was bored beyond belief at these stories, but made out they were incredibly riveting, just for the sake of even being mildly polite.

Her sister smirked over at her from her position on a comfy leather couch. Hazel scowled back. Lucky her, able to easily do her work without a boy hovering over her, blabbering on about himself.

Hermione was just having a normal day at Hogwarts. Reading, reading, reading, with a little bit of reading. Nothing new. But then something happened. Something that totally changed her view of the Light. It all started in the library. She had just strolled in, hoping that nobody had borrowed the one copy of How to Properly Brew Potions. To her delight, nobody had. Sitting down, she slammed the book on he table and had opened it to the first page, a foreword written by Professor Snape himself, when someone whispered right in her ear.

"Pssst!" It was Daniel Evans.

"What?" she hissed at him.

"Do you know Harry Potter?" the boy asked. Hermione stiffened. Harry Potter, the murderer of fellow students Cedric Diggory, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom? It would be better to say she didn't know him.

"I didn't, actually." She tried to maintain a nonchalant expression. "Why do you ask?"

"I know you're lying."

"I'm not."

"I know you are."

"Is it written that plain on my face?"

"No." He turned his head away.

"Then how do you know?"

"I'll tell you." He swiveled his head back to face her. "You remember how you betrayed him at the trial?"

Hermione gasped. How had he known this? She hadn't spotted a sandy-haired head anywhere in the crowd on that day. It hadn't been published in any papers. Nobody except eyewitnesses had known that Hermione and Ron had provided the key evidence of his guilt. The look Harry had given her when she'd piped with some long sentences that made all and sundry think him responsible for killing. Of course, deep down, she knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. Everyone knew it. Ron, Molly, Dumbledore. But she had been promised a lifetime supply of books that she had yet to see. Ron, however, had been in it from the start. His bump into Harry on the train had been orchestrated beforehand by Molly and Dumbledore. They'd known that the boy, who'd been ignored all his life by his relatives, would immediately befriend the redhead.

But back to the story and away from past events. Hermione was staring at Harry with a horrified look on her face.

"Why are you staring at me? I know I'm handsome, but there's no need to look so long." Harry remarked dryly. Another bell rung in the bushy-haired girl's mind. Harry Potter had had the same sense of dry humour that this boy did.

"How in the world do you know this? Nobody else except eyewitnesses knew that!"

"Maybe I was actually there." Daniel stared right in her eyes as he spoke this.

"I didn't see you!"

"You didn't see me or did you not see anyone who looked like me."

Hermione's brain whizzed and finally came to a reasonable conclusion to the boys puzzling riddle.

"You transfigured yourself." It came out in a breathless whisper, almost as if she couldn't believe that te boy was capable of such strong magic.

"Other way round."

"Huh?"

Harry put his head in his hands. "Oh god, you call yourself smart." He muttered. "I've transfigured myself now."

"So who were you then?" Hermione was absolutely gobsmacked by this revelation.

"You tell me."

Everything suddenly connected up in Hermione's brain. His question about Harry Potter, his apparent knowledge of past events that only the Golden Trio had experienced and so couldn't have possibly learned from others, his also apparent knowledge of how the trial went. He was sending her clues all along.

The boy was now watching her with a curious expression on his face. Almost as if he was reluctant for her to know such information.

"You were-are Harry Potter." She said flatly.

"Indeed."

Then, completely opposite to her tone at hearing that meek little Daniel was really the accused murderer of four people, Hermione flew at Harry, enveloping him in a bear hug.

"I've so missed you this past year! Ronald is a literal slob and keeps talking about how he was offered the position of Quidditch captain. You were much more interesting."

Harry was rather overwhelmed.

"You see, Hermione. I didn't come alone."

The girl gazed up at him. "You brought friends?"

"No, I brought my siblings."

After picking Hermione up from the floor, he explained everything. How he escaped, how he found his siblings, and his plan for revenge. The chestnut-haired girl was fully on board. Harry made her promise to not tell anyone this. She agreed.