On the first of September, Harry stopped by the Hospital Wing before he did anything else. He had been hoping to see Dumbledore and make sure that the man was not too badly injured. He did not get the chance as Madam Pomfrey threw him out as soon as she was sure that he was not there because he had injured himself.

Left with nothing better to do, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall and mechanically ate his breakfast. He was grateful that none of the present staff members tried to talk to him. He made himself a few extra sandwiches and wrapped them in a serviette to take with him on the train. When he had the last sandwich wrapped up he beat a hasty retreat back up to his dorm.

Digging his bookbag out of his trunk, he stuffed the sandwiches in, along with the Codex Eichstätt. He checked that his trunk looked like it had just been delivered before picking up the floppy package Dumbledore had given him the night before, Harry unwrapped it to find a green and purple patterned sock inside. Typical. And how or when does it activate?

Looking around, Harry found the wrapping paper where he had dropped it on his bed and picked it up. Flipping it over he found a note scribbled on the inside of the packaging in Dumbledore's familiar loopy handwriting. A quick read through told him that he could activate the portkey with a wand-tap. So don't get your wand close to the damn thing by accident he thought to himself.

Harry placed the eyewatering sock on his pillow and went down to the common room where he balled up Dumbledore's note and chucked it into the fire place, sending a Fire-Making Charm in after it to incinerate the message that would undercut any ruse Dumbledore had been hoping for.

Harry cast a quick Chronometer Charm to check the time. 7:45. I think that I should probably wait till about 9-ish before heading down to London. That way people can see me arriving on the platform. That's probably the best way to send those confusing messages Dumbledore was hoping for… right?

Looking around the dorm, Harry felt a little lost for anything to do. Perhaps I'll just go enjoy a peaceful common room while I still can.

Harry soon discovered that his plan wasn't going to work. He was too restless to simply soak in the quiet and ended up pacing around.

Even the pacing soon got frustrating and he waved his wand, casting another Chronometer Charm. What?! 7:52?! Harry was appalled at how little time had passed. For a moment he teetered on the edge of a decision, then threw up his hands in frustration. "Sod it! I'll just head down now."

The sound of his own voice in the silence of the common room left Harry blinking in surprise. His disorientation didn't last long as, buoyed by having a goal, he marched up the stairs with the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips.

Upstairs, he grabbed his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder. It'll be odd to eat in a full Great Hall again tonight. He took the crazy sock the Headmaster had given him the night before and, nervously checking that he really had everything he was likely to need for the train-ride, gave it a tap with his wand.

He felt the familiar whirlwind of a portkey pick him up and whisk him off towards London. Remembering what he'd learnt over the summer with regards to portkey travel, Harry began running as fast as he could before he hit the ground. It served him as well as it had in Little Hangleton and he found himself jogging along an empty Platform 9¾ as the final gusts of coal smoke-scented wind pulled at his hair and clothes.

It didn't surprise him that he was all alone on the platform. While most families managed to beat the Weasley average for arrival times, Harry didn't think any of them were so eager that they'd show up two hours beforehand. Well, not unless Hermione stayed with her parents this year and bullied them into coming here when she wanted to he thought to himself wryly.

Rather than stand around in the open and be a free spectacle for the families that got to the platform early, Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express which was already puffing out clouds of steam. He made his way to the last carriage, largely out of habit, and sat down in one of the compartments facing the platform. Half the point of being here is so that people see me. Not sure how well it'll work given that Snape's already seen me at Hogwarts, but maybe we can get them to waste a bit of time arguing about it?

Harry blew out his cheeks in frustration. Or maybe there's something else the Headmaster is hoping to accomplish with this. If there is, I'm going to have a talk with that man to remind him that we agreed to share those kinds of details.

Or maybe a summer of learning how poorly prepared we are to face this war has left me a paranoid bastard.

Putting the feeling aside, Harry grabbed his book and determinedly got comfortable. Thankfully the Codex Eichstätt was absorbing and a few minutes later, Harry had forgotten all about plots and ruses aside from the ones that might win you a duel with another wizard.

He was so caught up in visualising how several of the described moves might work in a duel and how he'd get the Room to simulate the appropriate situations that he almost jumped out of his seat when a loud bang sounded through the compartment.

Judging by the way a student Harry thought he recognised as a fourth year Hufflepuff was struggling in the corridor, the noise had been her trunk slamming into the door of his compartment. Harry got up to help and was met with the girl's eyes snapping towards his sudden movement. She paled and redoubled her efforts, throwing what looked like her entire weight against the resistance of the trunk to yank it free. There was a scrape and a loud thump as the girl abruptly disappeared from view, followed by the sound of someone desperately scrambling to their feet and more scraping.

Feeling a little saddened that his mere presence apparently inspired panic, Harry retook his seat and looked out of the window. The platform had filled while he read, though it was not yet as crowded as it usually was when he arrived with the Weasleys.

The book, demanding as it had been of his attention earlier, lay forgotten as Harry just watched the currents of humanity outside his window. Familiar faces passed by, few of them looking at him and none meeting his eyes.

Just as Harry was beginning to worry that they would miss the train, a small group of redheads and a single brunette burst onto the platform. They raced for the train, desperately dragging their trunks along behind them and Harry soon lost sight of them. At least they're on the train. I should probably go and find them at some point during the trip.

Harry knew from personal experience that for the first fifteen minutes or so after that mad dash to the train none of the three that had made it would be up to much in the way of speaking as they caught their breath and felt that perennial relief of having made it after all. Ron and I, perhaps more than most, know how much trouble it can be to actually miss the Express Harry thought to himself ruefully, remembering their mad car-jacking escapade at the start of their second year.

Let's give everyone some time to settle in he decided, picking up his book and finding the spot he'd left off at. He spared a moment to watch the platform begin to slide past his window and then let the pages of the Codex Eichstätt absorb his attention once more.

It wasn't until the door opened that Harry realised exactly how absorbed he'd gotten in his book. He looked up eagerly, half-expecting to find Ron and Hermione standing there. Instead he realised that a terrified looking third-year had entered the compartment. The boy held out a parchment scroll as far as he could. "P-P-Professor Slughorn sent me!"

Harry took the scroll gently and watched the younger boy flee the compartment like the devil was on his heels. That's-… that's going to get really annoying really quickly. Trying to put the strange behaviour of his schoolmates out of mind for now, Harry opened the scroll and quickly read the contents.

Harry,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

Harry wished that he could have claimed to have been more surprised by the arrival of this note, but after the way Dumbledore had used him to lure Slughorn back to Hogwarts, this was only to be expected. He's just a little earlier than I would have thought. Still, I can't not go. I'm supposed to be getting closer to the old walrus so I can figure out how to get that memory away from him.

Reluctantly, Harry got up and left his compartment, taking his bag with him. As he made his way through the carriages, Harry checked the various compartments, hoping to find Ron and Hermione. He was disappointed when, long before he'd seen their familiar faces, he opened a door to find a particularly luxurious compartment. It was several times larger than any other Harry had come across so far, a clear demonstration of space-expansion charms.

There was a round table made of dark wood in the centre of the compartment and several cushy chairs surrounding it. From one of those chairs a face he'd seen only that morning was beaming at him. "Harry, m'boy! Welcome, welcome. Come in. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry forced himself to say, stepping into the compartment and closing the door behind him. "It was very kind of you to invite me here."

"Not at all, not at all, m'boy," Slughorn beamed, waving the words away with a pudgy hand. "A bit of pheasant, Harry?"

Harry saw that the other plates were already loaded with what must have been cuts of pheasant covered with what looked like dried apricots and orange slices. "Please, sir." He spared a rueful thought for the sandwiches in his bag. Guess I'll be having them for supper, if this party doesn't leave me as stuffed as Slughorn looks.

Taking a seat he looked around at the others who had been invited to join. Next to him, Neville was giving him a relieved smile. Ginny was sitting across the table, next to Slughorn looking a little uncomfortable though she managed to shoot Harry a slightly amused eye-roll that conveyed an exasperation with being dragged in here.

Aside from his friends, Harry recognised Zabini from Slytherin and McClaggan from the year above them in Gryffindor. There was also a rather nervous looking Ravenclaw that Harry thought might be in the same year as McClaggan.

Harry did his best to look like he was incredibly absorbed by the conversation at the table. A whole summer of talking to Dumbledore had left him a lot more prepared to analyse a situation. It was easy to spot that everyone at the table knew someone important, except for Ginny who had apparently impressed the new professor with a well-cast jinx.

Over the course of the lunch it became clear how Slughorn was evaluating them. Belby, the Ravenclaw, didn't have a real relationship with his famous uncle since there was a rift in the family and this was clearly enough to ensure that he would never be invited to another get-together, despite Slughorn not saying a word.

Slughorn was also obviously pleased with the ways Zabini and McClaggan had responded and appeared to have decided that Ginny's family and Neville's timidity were not enough to reject them outright, but appeared to be taking a wait-and-see approach.

When it came to Harry himself, Slughorn almost vibrated with excitement. Harry doubted that he could avoid future invitations, even if he wanted to. Slughorn tried to get him to elaborate on all of his adventures, but Harry had realised over the summer just how much this war hinged on information. The side that knew more about the other had the advantage and with Zabini and a bunch of people he didn't know all that well in the compartment, Harry stuck to giving vague, evasive answers in a genial tone of voice.

While it had not come up over the summer, Harry was sure that Dumbledore's brand of offbeat cheerfulness was a shield that the old wizard used to deflect questions he really didn't want to answer and discussions that he couldn't afford to get bogged down in. Harry borrowed the technique as best he could, but was sure that he couldn't measure up to the man who had century of experience to back it up.

Thankfully, Slughorn interpreted this as Harry and Dumbledore being so close that Harry was picking up the old man's mannerisms, which apparently spoke well to his potential. He's not entirely wrong, Harry reflected. I have spent a lot more time with Dumbledore than most students. I'm not sure it's necessarily a promise of future greatness though.

At long last the driver's voice came over the magical speakers to announce that the train had nearly reached the school.

"Oh my, I had no idea it had grown so late. Time does fly when one is immersed in good conversation," Slughorn said, his face full of boyish surprise. "You lot had best get back to your own compartments. I'm sure that you will wish to enter the Great Hall with your friends and not one of the professors. That would set entirely the wrong tone for the year wouldn't it?" he added with a chortle and a wink.

Harry laughed along as best he could, but excused himself along with the rest, grateful that he was away from the Potions teacher and feeling in need of a bath after being handled for several hours.

"Harry?"

He looked over to find his friends looking at him. "We'll see you in the common room tonight, okay? My brother is taking care of Hermione for now and, well…" Ginny trailed off with an awkward shrug and a wave before running off. Neville added a wave of his own and hurried after the red-head.

Alone again… wonder if that's a sign for how the rest of the year is going to go? He shook himself. You've just managed to drop Divination, Potter. Leave it alone already. It's nothing but trouble.

The knowledge that he wouldn't be able to ban Trewlaney from his life entirely until he had fulfilled her prophecy hung over that resolution and Harry was tempted to sigh in frustration, but squared his shoulders and made his way back to the compartment he had started his journey in. When he got there, he saw that it had been claimed by a couple of seventh-years who were very occupied. Rather than cause an awkward scene, Harry moved up to one of the doors that would allow him onto the platform sometime in the next half an hour and leaned up against the wall.

He replayed his first contact with Slughorn as a professor and came to the conclusion that at the rate he was going it might take several years until he could convince Slughorn to part with that memory. Not that there's likely to be a lack of contact during that time at least.

The moment will come, Potter. I just have to make sure that I don't spook him before it does.

Harry felt his shoulder get pressed into the carriage's panelling as the train began to slow and turned his gaze to the way raindrops raced each other across the window pane until Hogsmeade Station slid into view.

The Express hadn't fully come to a halt yet when Harry banged the door open and hopped down onto the platform. He walked briskly away from the train and, once he was sure he'd left them enough room, turned around to watch the rest of the students disembarking, ignoring the water pelting down on him from above.

A part of him still hoped that he'd be able to head up to the castle in the company of Ron and Hermione. No matter where he looked in the crowd, Harry couldn't see a hint of bright red hair. He was almost ready to just head over to the carriages when an extra loud call right behind him caused him to jump.

"Harry! There you are, mate!"

"Ron?" Harry whipped around, feeling his cheeks stretching as he finally saw his best friend again. "How've you been?"

Ron had a big grin on his face and grabbed Harry in a rough hug. "It's been an interesting summer. Tell you about it at the Feast."

"Works for me," Harry agreed with shrug. "Sooner we get out of this rain the better. Let's get a carriage."

A flash of doubt disturbed Ron's expression. "Yeah… Listen, Harry-… I'm sorry, but I've got to get Hermione up to the castle. Ginny's already agreed to keep her company during the Feast though, so I'll see you then?" Ron was already moving away as he spoke.

Harry wanted to call him back, the stretch of platform between them suddenly feeling like an impassable gulf. Instead he felt one of his hands come up as if a stranger was moving his body. Ron answered with a wave of his own and hurried off, leaving Harry to find a different thestral-drawn carriage.

Harry ended up riding up to the castle with a nervous bunch of Hufflepuffs that looked like they couldn't be older than second years. The way they huddled in a corner didn't inspire much confidence that the coming year would be any better than the one that had just passed, at least in terms of Harry's reputation.

They look like I'm the scariest thing they've ever seen. That's either really bad or really good. On the one hand, they're going to be spreading rumours the moment they're clear of this ride. On the other, it means that they haven't faced anything that's scarier, like Riddle, a bunch of Death Eaters, trolls, basilisks, dementors…

With a conscious effort of will, Harry pulled his thoughts away from that depressing path. He turned his gaze out of the window and just endured the awkward ride up to the castle.

When the carriage drew to a stop Harry pretended not to notice for a moment so that the Hufflepuffs could scramble out and run away from him. Restraining the urge sigh or growl, Harry smoothed his emotions off his face as best he could stepped down from his ride.

He took a moment to pat the thestral that had pulled the carriage and then turned and headed inside at a calm walk ignoring the rain soaking his robes. All around him people curved their paths to avoid being close to the wizarding world's premiere madman. The bloody feast hasn't even started yet and I'm already longing for the castle to be empty again Harry thought to himself in resignation.

As soon as he was inside, Harry drew his wand and cast Desiccating and Warming Charms on himself. Stares dug into his skin and whispers pulled at his ears as he made his way over to the Gryffindor table and sat down in a conspicuously free area. Before Harry even had time to properly survey the Hall, his morose thoughts were knocked of kilter by hearty slap to his back.

"Are you trying to terrify the rest of the school?" Ron demanded with a grin as he dropped into the seat next to Harry.

Harry couldn't keep in a half-amused snort. "Trying doesn't enter into it. Everyone's just regressed to second year."

"Oh? You absolutely sure it has nothing to do with you looking all grim and forbidding?"

"Am I really?"

"A little bit," Ron said with a shrug. "I mean, I'm too much of a brave Gryffindor to let it bother me, but some of the firsties might wet themselves if you keep looking like you're about announce an execution."

Harry just shook his head, a smile creeping onto his lips. He waited for Ron to look up at the head table and slugged his best mate in the shoulder.

"Ouch! What the hell, Harry?"

"That was for not writing all summer," Harry said, feeling a lot better for having been able to vent a bit of frustration. A moment later his own shoulder was punched just as heavily. "Oi!"

"What? You didn't write either."

"Fair enough." Harry's grin was entirely unhesitant now. "I missed you, mate."

"You're such a woman," Ron said, ruining the macho reply slightly by grabbing Harry in a one-armed hug.

Harry pushed his best mate off, but couldn't deny that something that he hadn't noticed he'd been missing had just slid back into place. Before he and Ron could continue their conversation any further, Professor McGonagall marched into the Hall at the head of a column of first years who all looked far too young to be eleven in Harry's eyes.

Harry listened to the Hat's song and the Sorting that followed with half an ear as he reflected that the annual ceremony had taken on something fragile and ethereal now that he knew more about how dire their situation was. He was a little surprised to find the thought this could be the last time I see this if we muck it up in the coming war drifting through his head.

Shaking himself, Harry consciously pushed that thought away. We're doing everything we can. We're going to protect this. At the very least we'll make sure that they're the last ones to be touched by this war if we can.

When the last first year had taken their seat with their new house, McGonagall stepped forward and raised her hands drawing the Hall's attention to herself once again. "Professor Dumbledore has an urgent matter to attend to this evening and, though he was terribly disappointed that he could not be here tonight, he has asked me to pass on to all of you that he wishes you all to learn from each other as much as from the staff. With that said, please enjoy our Welcoming Feast," she said firmly.

The plates around the Hall filled with food and the air filled with the chatter of voices that had not heard each other for several months. Harry loaded up his plate, but paused for a moment when he saw Ron not serving himself. "You alright there, mate?"

"Huh? Yeah, I guess. What do you think Dumbledore's doing that's more important than being here?"

"Pretty sure it'll turn out to be some secret thing or another," Harry said with an uncomfortable shrug.

Ron's sharp, blue-eyed attention snapped over to Harry. The redhead's mouth opened for a moment before he closed it again and simply nodded in acceptance. "Yeah, whatever it is, it's not worth losing a meal over."

Harry absently began eating his supper as he watched Ron quickly grab a selection of food from what was left. He knew that his best friend had probably understood his answer to mean that Dumbledore was out on a mission for the Order. I really hope he won't be asking me anything more when we get up to our dorm. I have absolutely no way to explain to him what happened to Dumbledore.

In between working their way through their meal, the two friends caught up on their summers. Harry stuck with "I've been reading a lot of books and I was able to spend some time flying."

"Reading and flying? Since when do you read? And where would you even-… actually, never mind. Just answer the reading one. We didn't even have homework."

Yeah, we can't really talk about the other one. "Just trying to learn some stuff I might need to know."

Ron nodded and Harry could see that the redhead making connections, though he couldn't really check how accurate those connections might be in the middle of the Great Hall.

"So what've you been doing?"

"Well, you remember Bill's back in England? He's going to get married next year."

"Really?"

"Yeah, to an old friend: Fleur Delacour."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Are they going to stay here or move to France?"

"Ah, well, they were puttering around the garden a lot this summer. They probably feel like our place is safe enough for now. Probably until they can get another-… garden set up."

"I'm impressed. How're your parents dealing with it all?"

"Mum's not too happy about Fleur joining the family. Not sure why really. You could ask Ginny; she was as hung up on Fleur as Mum was. Dad's perfectly happy to see one of his sons settling down."

That kicked off a rundown of how the whole Weasley family was coping with the war, without directly mentioning anything. Harry thought that he was picking up that the Order had been meeting at the Burrow before he'd opened Grimmauld Place back up to them.

When the last of the meal vanished from their plates, every student's head naturally turned up to the High Table. McGonagall took Dumbledore's usual spot again and launched into the start of term announcements. Her introduction of Professor Slughorn as the new Potions Master and her consequent announcement of Professor Snape's new position led to a loud groan beside Harry.

"Old Slimy Snout's going to be teaching Defence? We're doomed!"

"Yeah, not a great start to the year," Harry agreed resignedly.

"You're not even surprised."

"Dumbledore mentioned it earlier."

Ron's forehead hit the table. "Think I could still catch the Express down to London?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"I think your mum'd do her nut if you did."

Ron was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, might not be worth it. Close call though."

Harry patted his friend's shoulder in commiseration. "C'mon, looks like your sister is corralling the firsties so you don't have to be a prefect tonight. Let's head up to the dorm."

Ron straightened up with a grin. "Sure, just put on that glare you were wearing when you walked in here. That should give us a free run at the good chairs."

Harry just gave him a playful shove to get him moving. The two boys walked out of the Great Hall laughing and Harry was almost able to forget that there was a war and what it had cost him so far. It lasted until he got to the stairs and heard McGonagall's voice behind him.

"Miss Granger, a moment if you would?"

Harry had to force himself not to turn around. He had no interest in seeing more people incapacitated like Dumbledore was by wondering why he was interested in his erstwhile best friend.

Ron had no such issue. "Herms! You need me to come with you? I can at least show you the route back up to the dorm after you're done."

Ron not walking with him anymore gave Harry the excuse he needed to turn around. He saw the way Hermione was looking nervously between Ron and McGonagall. The expression was painfully easy to read: Hermione would like a friend to back her up in a new environment, but she wouldn't go against McGonagall's authority if the professor said that Ron couldn't be there.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall might have read the same thing in the situation. "If you wish him there, Mister Weasley may accompany us to my office, Miss Granger. I trust that you do not object to him knowing your schedule for the year?"

"Of course not, Professor!" Hermione agreed eagerly before turning a questioning look on Ron. "Will you come with us?"

"Of course! Uh, sorry 'bout this, Harry."

"It's fine, Ron. Hermione's need is obviously greater," Harry reassured them with a smile. The pain of seeing that concert of confused faces propelled him to turn and leave before they could read the pain off his face. As his thoughts turned to the rest of the night he realised that he already felt tired from just that short interaction. I think I'm going to need a book to hide behind.

:-:-:-:-:

Hermione felt her pulse jumping wildly in her throat. After a summer of wheedling, arguing and begging she'd finally managed to get her parents to agree to let her come to Hogwarts. Now that she was finally here and facing her teachers, the only thing she could think was this is really happening. I'm really going to learn magic.

Professor McGonagall had led Hermione and Ron to her office where they were faced with Professors Snape, Slughorn, Sprout, Flitwick and Sinistra. Professor McGonagall took her place behind her desk and gathered up some parchment, looking it over before putting it back down again and turning her attention to her students. "Miss Granger, I have asked your teachers here so that we might put together a schedule for you that does not conflict with their other duties. To begin with, those of us who arrived at Hogwarts earlier have put together a preliminary schedule."

The Transfiguration teacher handed out pieces of parchment to her colleagues. Hermione tried not to read too much into the expressions on the other teachers faces. The one that worried her most was Professor Snape. His mouth had turned down in disgust as he looked over the page in his hand.

Apparently Professor McGonagall had noticed this as well. "Do you have a suggestion for how we might change the schedule, Professor Snape?"

The sallow faced man looked up with a sneer. "Indeed. There is no need for us to accommodate this girl in such a time-consuming manner. Just place her in the first year classes."

"Professor Snape, Hogwarts has already given its word that we will help Miss Granger catch up to her peers. We cannot do that if we simply move her back several years."

"Perhaps Hogwarts should have consulted with its Defence Master before making such a pledge," Snape replied, his expression unchanging.

"Are you saying that this is beyond your capabilities as a teacher?" Professor McGonagall challenged. Hermione's eyes darted from one teacher to the other, afraid to breathe as she watched the debate.

Snape stood up and dropped the piece of parchment on Professor McGonagall's desk. "Miss Granger can join my first year classes or forgo my tutelage. Those are her options. There is no other."

"Professor Snape, you have a duty as a teacher," Professor Sprout spoke up.

"And I am doing it. My duties do not include pandering to little hoodlums who think they deserve special treatment."

"You do not even believe that you should join the rest of us out of collegial solidarity?" the Herbology Teacher pressed.

"I notice that Binns isn't here either," Snape said in an oily, superior tone.

"Professor Flitwick and I will be covering those matters with Miss Granger. You know that Professor Binns' haunting is too set for him to adjust to this, Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall warned.

"As is my schedule. You have her options, Minerva. Let me know which she chooses." With that, Professor Snape swept from the room, his billowing robes brushing past Hermione's ankles and causing a red-faced Ron to leap to the side to avoid touching them.

"Git," he muttered to his professor's back.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespect and detention with Mr. Filch this weekend, Weasley," Professor Snape said just before closing the door.

Behind the desk, Professor McGonagall let out a frustrated sigh, though Hermione wasn't sure whether it was Professor Snape's behaviour or Ron's that had elicited it. "Anyone else have a concern they wish to voice?"

The other teachers all shook their heads.

"In that case, I believe we should move forward with the current plan for the time being. Miss Granger, we will be looking for a Defence tutor to teach you, but I do not believe that we should postpone your other classes while we are searching. Do you have any additional questions for us?"

"No, Professor," Hermione said, feeling a bit shaken after what she had just witnessed.

"Then you may take this." With a wave of Professor McGonagall's wand, one of the schedules floated over to Hermione.

She took it and looked it over for a moment. "Thank you, Professors. I promise I'll work hard."

"You always have, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick beamed at her. "Judging by your past performance, I believe we will have you caught up in record time."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, her heart feeling lighter. Giving Ron's sleeve a tug, she turned to leave the room. Out in the corridor she couldn't resist studying her schedule, her magical lessons schedule, once again. The only thing that worried her were the obvious blank times which had probably been slated for her Defence course until Professor Snape had walked out.

"You okay, Herms?"

Hermione decided not to make a point of the way Ron was shortening her name. "I think so. I'm just a little worried about how I'm supposed to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick will each be teaching me their own course and History of Magic already, on top of their usual lessons. What if it takes them a whole year to find me a tutor?"

Ron fidgeted a bit before meeting her eyes. "I-… I may have an idea about that."

"You know how we can convince Professor Snape to teach me after all?" Hermione asked, hope starting to blossom in her chest.

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "That git's not going to help you and he's having fun doing it. I may know someone else who can teach you Defence though. Someone who taught a lot of us last year."

Hermione hesitated. She would prefer to be taught by the current staff, but perhaps a former staff member might be the next best thing. "Alright," she agreed, feeling like she was stepping out over an edge with no idea of when her foot would hit the ground. "Should we write them a letter?"

"No need," Ron said with a grin. "Harry's probably up in the common room. We can just go ask him."

"Harry? You mean Harry Potter?" Hermione asked, feeling a cold dread creep down from the nape of her neck. "The boy who hates me?"

"Yeah… look, I'll talk to him for you okay? I'm sure we can get him to do it."

"But- but he's just a student, isn't he? How could he teach me?"

Ron snorted dismissively. "Harry's got more experience going up against the Dark Arts than pretty much any of the Defence teachers we had. Besides, he can teach, trust me. Got those of us he taught up to Exceeds Expectations or better for our O.W.L.s and I was sure we were cooked for that subject before he agreed to help. C'mon, we need to get up to the tower anyway."

Ron began walking, but Hermione was having trouble convincing her feet to move. Ron's suggestion sounded too good to be true. Besides, Potter and I don't get along and I have no idea why. Even Ron agreed… well, he didn't disagree. Shaking her head, Hermione chased after her friend, determined to have him see reason before he made things even worse.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry heard Ron and Hermione coming long before he saw them. He contemplated putting the book down, but Hermione had been reluctant to talk to him so far and Ron had pulled away with her. It's not going to make her any more comfortable if I sit here looking like I was just waiting for them. The thought caused a now familiar clench around his heart; an ache that he couldn't disperse.

"He's not going to want to do it," Hermione was protesting loudly as she and Ron entered the common room.

"I keep telling you: he did it last year," Ron argued back. "Harry!"

Lowering his book, Harry looked over at his friends. Hermione looked extremely reluctant to be here and Ron looked determined. Oh, that's not a recipe for disaster Harry snarked in the privacy of his own mind. "What's up?"

"Hermione has something she wants to ask you," Ron said firmly, pushing Hermione forward a few steps.

Harry had rarely seen her shoulders so stiff, an impression that was emphasized when she drew in a deep breath. "Harry Potter, will you agree to give me lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" The question was quick and formal. Harry thought that Hermione's face looked like she expected to be rejected out of hand.

He allowed his eyes to drift over to Ron who seemed to be trying to convey something. Turning his attention back to Hermione, Harry had to ask: "are you sure? I mean, I thought the staff were putting together a lesson plan for you?"

"Ah, well, Snape's being a git as usual," Ron cut in quickly. "Said he doesn't have time to work with her and without Dumbledore there, everyone just kinda let it go."

Considering the spying that he's supposed to be doing for Dumbledore, there's a chance that he wasn't being a git for the sake of it Harry admitted to himself. He was surprised when he'd barely had the chance to form the thought and Ron was already sitting down next to him.

"Look, mate, I know you don't like her, but you'd really be helping her out. And you taught the rest of us last year and all…"

Harry couldn't stop himself from gaping at the redhead. Is that what they think now? Not even indifference, but active dislike? He turned to look back at Hermione. The mortification on her face made it obvious that she had heard what had probably been intended as a whisper. She was already shaking her head at him. "Forget about it. It was stupid. I'll-"

"I'll teach you," Harry cut in. If they really think that I don't like her… well, here's my shot to do something about it. Maybe we can even get back to something like friendship one day if I do this.

Hermione just gaped at him. "R-really? You mean it?"

"I do."

"Oh thank you! Thank you! You won't regret it! I promise!" Hermione gushed. "I'll get any books you tell me to! I'll do homework! I'll-"

"Easy there, Herms," Ron laughed. "You've only just asked the man. He's not likely to have a booklist ready for you right away."

"If we do the lessons in the same place as last year, books shouldn't be a problem anyway," Harry reminded them with a soft smile. He stood up and swept them with a look. "There's just one thing I want to clear up before we begin."

Hermione's expression went from eager to anxious instantly and even Ron looked like he was bracing himself.

"Hermione-…" Harry hesitated, unsure of how to phrase this. Might as well just come out and say it. Not like I have any talent for this sort of thing anyway. "I don't hate you or dislike you or whatever it is that you thought I felt and I apologise if that's how I came off."

"But-… but you've never said a word to me…" Hermione protested softly. "I was sure that it was because…" she trailed off and looked at her shoes.

Frowning, Harry stepped forward and lifted her chin so she was looking him in the eye. "You aren't insufferable or annoying or whatever other adjective you just thought of," he said firmly. He could see her eyes searching his for a hint of a lie. I'm telling you the truth, Hermione.

All of a sudden, Harry realized what position the two of them were in with his hand on her chin, their eyes locked… cursing himself he stepped back. "Sorry. I-… I'll just go plan those lessons now." Harry fled for the stairs berating himself every step of the way. You idiot! What in the blue, shimmering blazes did you think you were doing?! That's how those rumours of you and Hermione being a couple get started every time! How are you supposed to become her friend if she wants nothing to do with you and your fame?!

Had he looked over his shoulder he would have seen that he was leaving behind a stunned common room that was mostly staring at his two very confused friends.

AN:

Funny thing about steam locomotives: they take a long time to heat up. By long, I mean at least one to six hours depending on the size and that is if you don't care too much about possibly breaking them. Apparently they were frequently fired up the day before leaving and left over a low burn so that the engine could warm up. This is because the boiler (which produces the driving pressure and the steam) needs to heat up slowly or the metal it's made of will expand too quickly and crack. Even with magic, I would imagine that they have to take a bit of time to do the job properly, hence why it's already steaming even though no one is there yet when Harry arrives at Platform 9¾.