Harry set off early.

September the First was a Monday, that year, so it seemed like a good idea to go early before Kings Cross got too busy. He could always get around the crowds in other ways, like going by Floo or flying in the Euston end of the portal the Hogwarts Express itself used, but using the concourse portal was the traditional thing to do and Harry didn't know how many more times he was going to do it.

There was actually a spot near Kings Cross itself which was considered safe to Apparate into, a little side alleyway near a church which (like many Apparition points) was made magically hard to find for Muggles, but Harry disdained that for simply Apparating directly into the air about a mile over the station.

On the long, low glide down, Harry frowned slightly – it didn't seem quite as busy as normal – then shrugged (with his arms, since his wings were otherwise occupied), flew in through what he was fairly sure was the opening for platform six, and banked around to the portal. He landed and went through almost in the same moment, and sat himself down just on the platform side of the line and off to the side a bit.

"Morning," someone said – a Ravenclaw Fifth-Year, Harry thought, one of the other early risers – and Harry nodded back to her before getting one of the books out of his beaded bag.

It had occurred to Harry that the bag wasn't really the sort of thing that you normally saw on a young man, but Harry didn't particularly mind. He felt like the sort of people who made a judgement based on that weren't the sort of people he wanted to impress, and besides that the Wizarding World was small enough that it was quite possible he'd met more than ten percent of the total population of the country.

And just about everyone who'd be on Platform Nine And Three Quarters, for that matter.

Waiting by the platform entrance was a mixture of interesting and gratifying and a few other things, which was exactly as Harry had been hoping it would be. It meant that he could at least nod to just about everyone who came through, offering advice to uncertain First-Years and overwhelmed Muggle parents while greeting most of the new and returning Prefects to let them know that he'd be in the Prefects' Carriage once they set off.

Draco arrived alone, and returned his nod with a curt 'Potter,' before meeting up with a couple of other Slytherins (including Daphne's sister, who Harry vaguely remembered was called Astoria) and boarding the train. Then someone from the Daily Prophet showed up, since this was the first time they'd known where Harry was going to be, and asked him about his battle with the Dark Lord and how he'd felt.

With a bit more distance, Harry could admit (to himself, at least) that he wasn't sure if he'd felt right about the battle with Voldemort.

At the time, it had all sort of… seemed like the sort of thing he had to do, or at least the only safe thing to do, to focus entirely on the situation as much as possible rather than doing something stupid because he wasn't thinking straight. But afterwards, it felt like it should have been a bit more meaningful… and Harry didn't know if that was just his literary preferences speaking, and that he'd have been happier with something a bit more dramatically appropriate.

And, what was worse, whether he should have been more focused on how Voldemort had killed his parents.

That was all part of the same thing about not doing something stupid, and thinking back Harry had wondered if maybe he'd actually realized that – or if it just hadn't occurred to him, or if it had but he'd ignored it because what had mattered was paying attention to Voldemort now rather than Voldemort in the past.

Or even if the fact he only really knew about the events on an intellectual level – being too young to remember more than maybe a vague impression of green light – had coloured that.

Of course, it was all kind of difficult to sum that up for a newspaper article, so what Harry decided to say instead was that he'd just been caught up in events. And that while Voldemort had been very dangerous indeed, it felt like a success that he'd been able to concentrate.

Then the reporter asked him if it had been the most important day of his life, and Harry had said that it had hardly just been an ordinary Tuesday but that it hadn't been the most important day of his life. The most important days had been things like his first day at Hogwarts, or when he'd got his wand, or – most of all – the days involving Sirius, like being welcomed to Dogwarts or his first time at Grimmauld Place. Or the day his friends had found their Animagus forms.

Harry talked for longer than he'd been expecting about that, carried along by all the things he'd done with his friends and how much he'd enjoyed them all, then stopped and shook his head.

"I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time," he told the reporter. "And I've probably missed a few of my friends going past."

The reporter looked like he'd rather spend even longer, but the way Harry had put it made it so that it would be rude for him to take up more of Harry's time – while not actually asking the man to leave, and giving him an easy way to accept that.

Harry had to admit, he could see why Dumbledore liked doing that sort of thing. It was kind of fun, coming up with ways to put it so that you got what you wanted while managing to be polite enough to keep everyone else thinking like it was in some way their idea.

It was definitely something to do more often.

Harry got on board the Hogwarts Express ten minutes before it set off, heading down the corridor to see where Ron and the others had picked as their compartment – it was already expanded out, this time by Dean who seemed to have made it about the size of the Great Hall by mistake – then all the way to the Prefects' Carriage.

Hermione was already there, and so were most of the Prefects – including a surprise, which was that Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail were sitting in the corner.

Flopsy and Cottontail were looking a bit sheepish.

"Morning, Harry," Mopsy said. "Are we about to set off?"

Harry checked his watch. "If we don't start moving in the next few we'll be late," he replied.

After the initial surprise, he noticed that Mopsy – the middle sister – had a Prefect badge on a fine chain around her neck. It was definitely a necklace, not a collar or anything else of the sort, but it still served to indicate which of the three was the Prefect.

"I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking either," Cottontail supplied. "If you're wondering."

"We've gone over this already," Draco drawled. "Though, admittedly, going over how Dumbledore is a little bit crazy is one of the main things people do at Hogwarts."

"I don't think Dumbledore's a little bit crazy at all," Harry replied. "After all, he works so hard at it, I'm sure he's much more crazy than just a little bit."

Draco considered that, then nodded. "I'll allow it, Potter."

"Who's missing?" Harry added, counting. "There's eleven people here…"

"I think it's my male counterpart," said the newest Ravenclaw Prefect. "It's either Derek or Ed, I know that much, but I don't know who it is."

"Well, we're in no rush," Harry shrugged. "I just thought that if we know who else has to arrive then as soon as they do we can get started."

He examined one of the free armchairs, looked it over a bit, then hit it with an Expansion Charm. It stretched out into a sofa, and he jumped up to sit in it on all fours.

"Oh, that's right, we can do magic again now," Mopsy said. "I forgot about that. Girls?"

There was a whispered consultation between the siblings, and then Cottontail fished her wand out of her bag. Mopsy was the one who said the incantation while Cottontail pointed the wand, and though the result was a bit wobbly they managed to conjure a big cushion to sit on instead of having to stay on the floor.

A whistle blew, a shrill sound that came through the open window, and then Derek Caddell came through the door into the carriage.

"Sorry," he said. "Got to the platform a bit late, and it's kind of crowded."

"It's fine," Harry replied, encouragingly. "We've got hours to go through this stuff and not a lot of it to go through. Just find a chair."

Derek nodded, and looked around for a moment before picking one of the ones that was left and sitting down on it. Just as he did, the carriage shook slightly, and the Hogwarts Express was on its way.

Harry didn't say anything for the next few minutes, waiting while the train gathered speed, then looked over at Hermione to see if she wanted to be the one to speak first.

She made a little non-committal gesture, and Harry decided to take the initiative.

"Welcome to everyone who's new to this," he said. "And welcome back to everyone who isn't."

He glanced at Hermione again. "Did I miss anyone?"

"Don't think so," she replied.

"Right," Harry nodded. "So, obviously you've all seen Prefects doing things, but those of you who are in Fifth Year at least won't have done it yourself before. So… the most important thing really is that you need to try and make sure Hogwarts runs as smoothly as possible."

"Ideally, the teachers wouldn't even need to get involved with discipline and things like that," Hermione added. "They will need to get involved, because actually doing it perfectly would be more or less impossible, but it's something to aim for."

"Right," Harry agreed. "So that means… well, making sure people follow the school rules, and reminding them about them if they seem like they might break the school rules."

The Barlos girls raised a paw.

"I know we can take points, and things like that," Mopsy said. "Well… you know, myself and the other Prefects, not my sisters."

Flopsy grumbled something that Harry didn't quite catch.

"But when do we do that?" Mopsy resumed. "So it makes sense, anyway."

Harry considered that for a bit.

"I think that it depends how much the person is breaking the rules," he said. "One thing to keep in mind is that a detention is a serious punishment but it only punishes the person who is given the detention, while taking points is a less serious punishment but it punishes the whole of their House."

That got a few nods.

"But, really, you kind of have to use your judgement a bit," he went on. "And that's part of being a prefect… but another part of it is being willing to help other students before it gets to the point where they're causing trouble, especially if they're in trouble."

He smiled. "And, because it's not an ideal situation, you can always take things to teachers if you want to confirm something."

To his pleasure, that seemed to be a bit of a relief for the new prefects.

"In case you don't already know, Prefects can't give points," Hermione said, taking over for a bit. "And if they assign a detention but there's no teachers available…"

Maybe it was that they'd been friends for so long – and doing homework together for that long as well – but Harry thought that he and Hermione managed to trade back and forth on the list of things quite well. It was mostly for the new Prefects, but the reminder was helpful to the others as well.

The patrol schedule was something Harry hadn't thought to get ready ahead of time, but fortunately it had occurred to Hermione and she checked who was doing Astronomy before noting that down on a piece of parchment.

She drew out the boxes for who would be doing each night's patrol – two weeks on and one week off, two Prefects per night – and then didn't actually fill them out, instead casting a Protean Charm on the twenty-four duplicates she made.

"I'll fill these out once we know when Astronomy lessons are this year," she said. "I won't do that until the afternoon, though, so if anyone has a day they'd rather not do then let me know by the end of lunch."

"How are you going to choose who's not scheduled?" Draco asked. "Obviously I know you two will be filling in when someone's unavailable, entirely because you're the Head Boy and Girl of course, but there's someone else who won't be on the schedule and doing the same thing."

"It's going to be one of the Seventh Years," Harry answered. "We'll pick someone who has as little overlap as possible in days they might be busy, and probably switch around who it is."

Draco nodded, seeming unsurprised, and Harry thought it was quite likely that Draco had known (or guessed) that but had asked partly just to be sure that the topic had been brought up.

They went through a few questions, then, about what patrols actually entailed, and then moved on to the positive sides of being a Prefect. Mostly that meant the Prefects' Bathroom, but it was a pretty good benefit as far as Harry was concerned – to the best of his memory he'd never been interrupted while using it, and he vaguely wondered whether that was something magical or just coincidence before shrugging it off.

"Is there anyone who doesn't know where all the teacher's offices are?" Hermione checked.

About half the Fifth Years looked uncertain, and she took a folded piece of parchment from her own bag before putting it on the floor.

"I'm lost," she said, activating her Hogwarts Map, and pointed to a tower turret. "That's where Divination is…"

The last thing on the list was to give out the passwords – by which point they were passing through a cutting which Harry thought might have been in Buckinghamshire or one of those other counties with long silly names – and Harry explained that the Gryffindor password for the first week was 'Nusquam', for Slytherin it was 'Runespoor', and Hufflepuff had 'Heartstrong'.

Ravenclaw, of course, had riddles.

"And if you're not sure about anything, then let me know," Harry concluded. "Or Hermione. Or ask one of the older Prefects in your house."

He shrugged. "In fact, there are so many people you could talk to that you should be able to find someone to talk to about anything and everything."

"So we've got no excuse," Derek said, smiling a bit nervously.

"I'm quite sure you could have excuses," Harry replied. "Though I tend to think it's better not to need excuses in the first place, if I can manage it… which I'm sure must have happened at some point, though when escapes me."

In considering the difficult challenge between being Head Boy (and thus needing to be available to help people out, even more so than a normal Prefect) and being Harry Potter (and thus wanting to spend time reading or talking with his friends) Harry considered for a few minutes and then decided that the simplest thing to do would be to sort of mix things up a bit.

On the one paw, he'd walk up and down the train once before going to where his friends were, and then a couple more times over the next few hours – plus once when they were about an hour or so from arriving at Hogsmeade Station, letting everyone know they should make sure they were changed into their robes if they weren't already.

On the other paw, he'd spend the rest of the time in their compartment… by the door, and with the door open.

So anyone could look in and see where he was, and get help.

That immediately got altered when Dean volunteered to help, going up and down the train himself to look out for any signs of trouble, and Harry thanked him with a smile.

He wasn't sure why Dean wanted to volunteer to help, but he was grateful.

"...okay, so here's my question," Ron said, twirling his wand. "Is it going to be easier to make the Ratatoskr invisible to Muggles and work out a good time to launch from Hogwarts grounds or something, or to finish the Runic Apparition Array and just jump straight into space?"

"And make it invisible to Muggles," Hermione contributed.

"Why would I need to do that?" Ron checked. "I'm not saying I wouldn't have to, I just want to check why."

Hermione paused. "Well… I'm not sure how far away you're planning on going, but remember that astronomers can spot even quite small and sooty rocks lit by the sun – and your rocket is going to have an engine flame."

"You're calling it the Ratatoskr?" Anna checked.

"Well, yeah," Ron replied. "I mean… it fits, right? Squirrel that climbs the World Tree?"

Anna shrugged. "I'm just surprised that it didn't end up being called the Roncket."

"Oi," Ron protested. "I'm not that bad… am I?"

"To be fair, being a bit indecisive about names runs in the family," Neville shrugged. "I mean, your brothers Fred and George can't decide on whether they're called Fred or George."

Harry sniggered.

"I'm not sure that's quite the same thing," he said. "But really, Ratatoskr is a pretty good name. All mythic and stuff… though I think the mythical one carried insults up and down the world tree."

Ron considered that, then shrugged. "I'll carry a few," he decided. "Anyway, 'mione, what you're saying is that Muggle astronomers would notice the engine flame? I… yeah, that's a good point. Especially if I'm heading towards the moon, because I won't be that far away."

"So you're going to need to make it invisible to Muggles anyway," Hermione concluded. "That shouldn't be that hard, though – hasn't your dad done it to his old Anglia?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't last all that long," Ron replied. "Or, no, it's more 'invisible to everyone'."

He ticked off on his fingers. "So I need to make it so it can't be seen by Muggles, and… wait, does making something Unplottable work on a radar display? Is that a map or not?"

"I think something like that has to be happening, or at least making it so Muggles can't spot the radar echo," Harry contributed. "Or otherwise the reserve for Hebridean Blacks would have been spotted easily by radar, it's massive. Isn't there that rune array for making something invisible, though?"

"Again, I don't want to be flying a rocket where I can't see the controls," Ron said, shaking his head. "I'm starting to wonder if this is one of the main reasons why nobody's done this before."

"If it were easy it'd be boring," Ginny grinned.

Ron snorted. "I wouldn't mind some boring… if Muggles don't know about the launch, and they can't see it, there isn't much risk of crashing into something, right?"

"There's a lot more space junk than intact satellites, so probably," Hermione agreed.

Tyler suddenly surged upright. "Wait – I know!"

He waved vaguely towards the back of the train. "Ever taken the Knight Bus? That's what you need to base it on, Muggles don't see it and it doesn't crash into anything either."

"Now that is a plan," Ron said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tyler.

Harry would have kept listening, but Upstart flew into the compartment and turned into Dean.

"There's a First-Year three doors down who's looking for the bathroom," he reported.

There was a wide grin on Dean's face, one which made Harry grin a little as well, even though he didn't know the joke.

"All right, I'll see what I can do to help," he said, getting up and putting a bookmark in his book. "What's so funny?"

"Well, I thought you could go and tell her where the bathroom is," Dean explained, still grinning. "And then, when she asks how you knew, just say.. a little bird told me."

Harry stopped, and gave Dean a look.

"Really?" he asked.

Dean shrugged.

"Is that the whole reason you're helping?" Harry went on, swallowing hard to stop a giggle bubbling up.

"Well, part of it," Dean replied. "The compartment kind of makes me feel a bit embarrassed by how much I overdid the expansion charm..."

Lunch, as usual for a journey on the Hogwarts Express, was mostly made up of things from the trolley.

Harry and Hermione did have to get involved when a first-year further down the train explained that he had a problem with foods containing gluten, and the lady who ran the trolley didn't actually know which foods did or didn't have gluten in them. Harry wasn't sure either, but Hermione rummaged around a bit in her extensive library before finding a book about food magic which contained a complex spell detailing the ingredients in the target food.

Ten minutes with that spell and the first-year boy had an idea of which things he could have to supplement his lunch, and Harry took his wand out right there and flicked it.

"Expecto Patronum," he incanted, drawing a gasp from the first-year as a silvery dragon emerged from the tip of his wand. "Professor Dumbledore, someone in First-Year by the name of Angus Milton has a problem with foods that have gluten in, so I think the House-Elves are going to need to take that into account. I hope you don't mind the interruption."

Ruth vanished with a little white flash as soon as Harry finished the message, and he smiled pleasantly at Angus. "That should start things being sorted out."

"I know this really isn't likely, but what happens if there's a crash?" Ginny was musing, as Harry got back from his trip down the train to let people know they were going to reach Hogsmeade in an hour or so.

She waved her hand around at the enormified interior of the compartment, one where the facing bench at the other end was now a few minutes' walk away and someone (probably Hermione) had had to send up a Lumos globe to add to the light provided by the small window. "This compartment alone is probably longer than half the train, so does it… you know, absorb the force, or what?"

"I think if the enchantment broke it would just eject everything," Harry replied, remembering reading about something like that with his tent. "The usual enchantments have safety stuff on them, so that that happens. But being hit hard… I think it depends if the outside of the compartment breaks, because from the outside it's still the same compartment."

There were a few nods.

"Breaking magic stuff is even more complicated than making it, then," Neville summarized.

He glanced at Ron and Ginny. "Except for your house."

"...yeah, I'll give you that one," Ginny admitted. "I do feel a bit nervous whenever Ron or Dad or someone is working on something and they have to cast Finite, I worry they'll hit the floor and the building will collapse."

"Enchantments can be stronger than a simple Finite can deal with," Harry supplied. "Even ones which weren't specifically hardened against it."

"Right," Taira said. "That's why we're careful with that sort of thing."

Isaac looked up from his comic, and laughed.

"You two being careful about something?" he asked. "Since when?"

"I'll have you know that kitsune are careful about all sorts of things," Anna supplied, for her brother. "Hence why we're in Slytherin. And we're good at avoiding consequences."

"Hence why we're still in Slytherin," Tyler took up the thread seamlessly.

That got a sage nod from June. "Ah, I see," she said. "As opposed to being in pieces."

"Exactly," Tyler agreed.

He picked up a chocolate from the pile in front of him, blinked, and suddenly turned into a chicken.

"Whoops," Ginny said, not sounding guilty or surprised. "Must have been a Choc Chick in the pile… consider that payback."

"For what?" Anne asked.

Ginny rummaged in her bag. "I've got the list somewhere…"

Tyler flapped his wings once, clucked determinedly, and changed from being a chicken into being a fox before reverting to his human form.

Harry noticed something odd, though.

"Did you have two tails, there?" Ginny asked, slightly puzzled, and beat Harry to the question. "I know that's a kitsune thing, but I thought they had to be older."

"It's a bit weird, really," Anna supplied, casting a Finite on the next sweet she was about to eat. "It's supposed to be a kind of mix of getting older, having more experiences, having personal realizations, stuff like that… but in our case it turns out we got our second tails by passing our OWLs."

"In that case, I'm kind of impressed you kept it a secret for, what, two to three months?" Ginny said.

"Glamours," Tyler informed her. "Can't change more than details, but… well, one-tail and two-tails aren't that different."

Dean frowned. "How does that work, though?" he asked. "I mean… where they connect, and stuff. I can't see how that would work."

"I don't see what the problem is," Tyler said, po-faced. "It's like having one tail, except there are two."

There was a thunderstorm going on when they arrived into the station.

Harry and the other Prefects had to get involved to make sure that everyone knew where to go, in particular the First- and Second-Years, because the First-Years were going to their usual ride across the lake in boats with Hagrid (something which Harry didn't particularly envy them, given how much rain was lashing down) and the Second-Years often hadn't yet taken the route from the station up to the castle by Thestral carriage.

It was certainly a lot more dramatic, and Harry had the silly thought that it probably would have been better to have this weather when he encountered Tom Riddle and that weather when everyone was getting out of the Hogwarts Express.

"You don't need your bag," he assured one First-Year. "They'll be taken up to your rooms when you've been Sorted – don't worry, just put it back in any compartment."

There was a flash and a rumble of thunder overhead, and Harry spread both wings to shield people from as much rain as possible.

"Impervious, Impervious, Impervious," Mopsy was chanting, her sisters both holding their wands and looking first one way and then another, throwing out rain-shedding charms in all directions. "This would be lovely weather for ducks!"

"Is there going to be a duck at Hogwarts next?" Pansy Parkinson asked. "I hope not. I prefer them a l'orange to dans le Hufflepuff."

Hermione drew words in the air with golden ribbon, one pointing to where First-Years should go and the other directing the Second-Years and up, and that seemed to help with the confusion.

A bit.

After a slightly soggy trip up to the castle, and the various wet quadrupeds shaking themselves out right before coming in the door – and some Bluebell Flames for warmth for good measure – everyone filed into the hall to take their seats.

There was no food yet, but the House-Elves had apparently expected people might want hot drinks and there was tea and cocoa and a few flagons of mulled mead in lines up and down the tables.

"Why don't we have that Astronomy Tower spell across the whole school?" Ron asked.

"It'd mean no snow," Dean pointed out.

Ron looked conflicted.

"Okay, sure," he said eventually. "But isn't there any magic that can control the weather?"

Harry tilted his head slightly, trying to remember something from Second Year, then nodded.

"I think they teach it at Wallamullah," he said. "Michael Freeman – that Australian guy, you remember – he did something which controlled the winds, and I think I remember him mentioning it. So maybe they teach it in other places too."

"Now that is something I could get behind," Ron mused, then frowned. "Or, no, wait, ninety-nine percent of the time I could just either stay indoors or Apparate past the weather. It's only at Hogwarts when it's a problem."

After a few minutes, and before the First Years had arrived, Harry remembered to look up at the table to see who was new there – and saw something so surprising he had to do a double-take.

All the familiar teachers were there, from Flitwick to Snape, but there was also a second Professor Dumbledore seated at the far end of the table – a few places further down than Professor Diggle had been, with all the intervening teachers having moved up one place.

Harry did look a bit closer, after the initial surprise, and saw that this second Dumbledore didn't quite look like the first. The original similarity had been striking, but now that he was looking for differences they were easy to see as well – quite apart from the differently trimmed beard, this other Dumbledore (who had to be Aberforth Dumbledore, Harry supposed) had a nose that had never been broken and his beard seemed somehow a little more grey than silver.

He also seemed distinctly grumpier than Albus did – though that could just be the festive effect of Albus still having a rainbow beard after a full month.

"Blimey," Ron said, blinking. "He looks different when he's not behind the bar at the Hog's Head."

"You've been in the Hog's Head?" Hermione asked, more than a little surprised.

"It was raining," Ron said, by way of explanation.

Then the doors to the Great Hall opened, and in came the First-Years.

"Is that a dwarf?" Harry heard someone ask, from over at the next table. "A dwarf at Hogwarts?"

Then the person sitting next to them snorted. "Have you been paying any attention at any other Sorting?"

Harry smiled slightly, because the second person to speak had had a good point. There was a dwarf, certainly, who was already visibly shorter and stockier than the rest of the First Years, and a centaur – he thought he recognized her as Magorian's daughter – but when last year's Sorting had included Dominic and the year before had had Isaac, both members of species which didn't look at all human, then a dwarf wasn't really all that surprising any more.

It was impossible not to pay a bit more attention to the Sortings of both not-entirely-human students, simply because they were more eye-catching, but Harry tried to make sure he was following where everyone went.

Angus Milton, with the gluten problem, went to Ravenclaw, while the dwarf (whose name, it transpired, was Hans Roser) joined the Gryffindor table. He seemed a bit uncertain where to sit until Dennis patted the seat next to him, and Harry paid attention to what was being said for long enough to hear that Dennis was asking Hans about his opinions on Quodpot.

One after another, the new First-Years were sorted – as the Hat had put it, some went to Subtle Slytherin, some to Gallant Gryffindor, some to Helpful Hufflepuff and some to Research-oriented Ravenclaw. (Which probably meant that the Hat hadn't come up with a better alliteration in the 'R's.) But the centaur lingered as Professor McGonagall read down her list, going letter by letter, until she reached 'Williams' and the only other waiting student spent his minute or so under the Sorting Hat.

He went to Ravenclaw, and then Xenia – which, as it turned out, was the centaur's name – was sorted into Slytherin.

"Don't think I've heard many names with an X at the front, before," Neville said, half to himself and half to the rest of them. "There's Luna's dad, Xenophilius, and there's a couple of historical ones, but that's about it."

"It's not really a common initial," Harry agreed. "But, well, maybe it's more common among centaur?"

"Purely by statistics it has to be," Neville shrugged.

Professor Dumbledore – the headmaster one, not the other one – stood, then, as the Sorting Hat was cleared away.

"If you don't mind, I would like to say a few words," he announced. "If you do mind, I would also like to say a few words but I can assure you I will feel a little guilty about it. I trust nobody minds if I proceed with that understanding, even if they do mind about the saying of a few words?"

Aberforth Dumbledore rolled his eyes, shaking his head, even as a low muttering built up in the hall.

It mostly sounded like people were trying to work out what Dumbledore had just said.

When no actual objection sounded, Albus went on. "And those words are – Gallant, Subtle, Helpful, Research-oriented. All fine words, and I hope that everyone at Hogwarts strives to be all four."

He sat down.

After a few seconds, he stood up again, picked up his fork, and gently tapped it on the golden plate in front of him. Then the feast appeared.

"Excellent," he pronounced, sitting down once more. "Eat up!"

"How do the House-Elves even decide what to cook?" Dean asked, inspecting the dishes nearest to him.

There didn't seem to be much of a coherent theme, Harry had to concede. Just within reach of Dean before anything moved, he could see – a pasta dish which looked like very large ravioli had been cut up and fried, then some sort of chicken served with sauce and cous-cous, next to a curry, and with a pile of sausages next to that.

"Maybe they throw darts at a map," Ron suggested, taking some of the curry. "Anyone see any chutney?"

"There's some down here," Dennis reported.

"Oh, is that Maultaschen?" Hans added, craning his neck to see. "The stuffed pasta."

Dean lifted the dish. "This stuff?"

"Yeah," the dwarf agreed. "The filling's minced meat and spinach. It's, um, I think it was invented by monks, so they could eat meat without breaking the rule about eating meat on Fridays because…"

He frowned. "I'm not sure I'm remembering this right. It's something to do with how it doesn't count if it doesn't look like meat?"

"That sounds about right," Harry contributed, remembering something he'd read in a history book that summer. "Monks came up with all kinds of weird exceptions. I think they decided once that rabbits technically count as fish or something?"

"Okay, now you're having me on," Ron said. "Rabbits are fish?"

"Ask a monk, not me," Harry defended himself. "They're the ones who came up with the rule."

He frowned. "Actually, if they're the ones coming up with the rule, and the ways they can break it… what does that remind me of?"

"Professional sports," Dean said tartly.

Speaking of tart things, the next course – as per normal – was dessert. There were all kinds of things on the table, from a large multicoloured jam tart (with at least eight different kinds of jam in ripples out from the centre, sculpted and flowing as though the whole of the tart was a splash), to an extravagant trifle made with every individual ingredient having a different kind of chocolate flavour, to a large jelly with smaller fondant shapes – chiefly dragons – contained within.

Neville got quite a shock when his second spoonful freed one of the dragons, and it wriggled out before flying into the air and circling his bowl – breathing out jets of icing sugar as the Seventh-Year tried to catch it.

"Must be like a chocolate frog," Ron decided. "Anything that's especially for you, Harry?"

"Just this," Harry replied, showing him.

Some enterprising elf in the kitchens had made Harry half-a-dozen party rings, those circular biscuits with coloured hard icing on the top, except that in this case the party rings were made with a blend of metal shavings in with the dough.

Harry wasn't entirely sure why, but the one with the tin in did taste particularly nice.

"I don't think I've seen one of these before," one of the other First-Years said. "What is it?"

He held it up, and Neville and Dean both answered before Harry could.

"It's a scone," Neville told him.

"No, it's a scone," Dean replied, with a different pronunciation.

The First-Year looked baffled. "Which is it, then?"

"A scone, clearly," Ron summarized, using a third pronunciation which didn't make things clearer at all.

"It's a sort of fluffy bread cake," Harry said, deciding not to get into the pronunciation argument. "You cut it in half and put in a filling, usually jam and butter or jam and cream, but you can put just about anything in there."

"Chocolate spread?" the young wizard asked.

"I think that's only for scones, not scones," Dean shrugged. "Or scones. But, if it works, go for it."

Hermione hummed. "It is a bit of a strange food, isn't it?" she asked. "It's a bit too sweet for the savoury course, but a bit too savoury for the sweet course. It seems to work best as part of afternoon tea, or things like that."

"I think that, really, the only limitation on what you eat when is what you're interested in eating then," Harry said. "Though the normal schedule is good just because it means you get a wide variety."

He paused. "Or something. Though if you're not used to having dessert at a specific time, how else would you get the guilty pleasure of eating it at a different time?"

"That's thinking, that is," Ron told him approvingly.

Once everyone had finally had enough to eat, and the leftovers had faded away, Dumbledore rose again.

"Now that we have all stuffed our faces," he began, "I have a few announcements to make. Those of you who have returned to Hogwarts should pay close attention, in case anything has changed; those of you who are here at Hogwarts for the first time will of course not notice if anything has changed, but should pay close attention anyway."

"Pardon?" someone asked.

"Listen closely," Harry summarized.

The Headmaster's pleasant regard swept the hall. "Firstly, I would like to inform all our students that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, Forbidden, though exceptions are made if the student in question – as many do – happens to live there. If you are unsure which Forest is the Forbidden one, please treat any Forest as Forbidden."

He counted off on his fingers. "Secondly, anything which is banned is, in fact, banned, and students are not to bring such things into the school. That includes the entire catalogue of Zonko's, and while the Marauders' Miscellany sells many objects which are genuinely useful and thus we cannot ban everything they produce… if you are unsure whether something is banned, it is a safe assumption that it is."

Harry heard someone swear very quietly.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, and magic should not be used in the corridors," Albus went on. "Finally, at the request of certain members of the School Board, I would like to clarify a few points on the matter of dragons. If you see a dragon around Hogwarts, please use this simple guide to tell what sort of dragon they are. If the dragon is wearing robes and glasses and is around four feet tall and ten feet long, as a very rough number of course depending on how unfurled his wings are and when he was last measured, then that is Mr. Potter who is the Head Dragon, who would simply be labelled as Head Boy except for the fact that he is a dragon. If the dragon is much larger, and wearing a yellow scarf, then that is the lovely miss Nora who is the head of the other dragons around Hogwarts. If the dragon is of similar size to miss Nora but is an Antipodean Opaleye, a Swedish Short-Snout or a Common Welsh Green wearing a red scarf, then those are the deputy head dragons by the names of Ollie, Sally and Gary respectively. Any other dragon wearing a scarf is a junior dragon, and misbehaviour should be reported to Mr. Hagrid. If none of the above applies, then the dragon in question should be reported to the nearest teacher."

He smiled. "I trust that that all makes sense."

Even Harry wasn't quite clear on it, but there was just some baffled mumbling.

"Finally, it gives me great pleasure to introduce the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," the Headmaster said. "My younger brother, Aberforth Dumbledore."

There was scattered applause, which grew a bit for politeness' sake and then died away, and Aberforth stayed seated.

"Finally," Albus said, for the third time, "I would like to invite the choir up to sing."

Seamus got up, as did the other choristers, and they took their places at the front of the room.

There was a clatter as the music stands and sheets went up, and Harry took that moment to mention that people who were in fifth-year and younger were lucky they didn't have to face the previous way of singing the school song.

"One, two, three," June counted them in, then Seamus began.

"I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen…"

After the choir was finished, Dumbledore sent them all off to bed.

Mopsy led the First-Year Gryffindors up the stairs, and most of the others went up fairly quickly as well – not wanting to miss the passwords when they were first given out.

Harry, on the other paw, decided that it was as good an idea as any for him to stay down in the Great Hall for a bit. It meant he'd be able to see if there were any students who had ended up separated from the rest of the group, and because he knew the passwords anyway he didn't have to worry with being locked out.

Even though he wasn't really waiting for many minutes, all things considered, Harry had always been one of the first people up the stairs so it was interesting to see what happened in the Great Hall after a feast. First there was the inevitable traffic jam at the doors, while some of the teachers left immediately and others spent a few minutes to have an extra drink or two.

Some of the House-Elves appeared with mops, cleaning the floor, and others began collecting up or wiping up any of the food that had spilled onto the tables.

"Mr. Harry Potter Dragon Sir," one House-Elf said, pausing in his work to bow briefly in front of Harry. "We got the message about the young wizard who cannot eat the gluten things, and we is making sure to make no-gluten things for every meal."

"That's great," Harry told him. "I don't know what it'd be like myself to be unable to eat something that's in so many foods."

"We is making sure it tastes all the same, Mr. Harry Potter Dragon Sir," he was told.

Then the House-Elf gave Harry what struck him as a playful look. "Will we be needings extra cutlery after the meal?"

"I didn't actually eat any, this time," Harry defended himself. "The other food was fine."

The House-Elf went back to his work, then, and Harry wondered how the House-Elves were organized.

They had to have some kind of organization, unless they just all did the jobs they thought needed to be done and it all worked out somehow.

Maybe they were some sort of anarchist collective, or something? Dumbledore had told him once that they didn't get paid, or rather that they didn't accept pay even though there was an open offer for any House-Elf to get paid if they wanted it.

It made Harry think of a weird combination of slavery and post-scarcity communism.

Shrugging the idea off for later consideration, Harry unrolled the Map on one of the now-clear tables and touched his wand to it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said, and lines spread across the formerly blank parchment to draw out the familiar shape of the Marauders' Map.

There was a gaggle of students already most of the way up the stairs – both on the main staircase and on the Gryffindor alternative route – and Harry could see Peeves buzzing around the Ravenclaws. There were a few other ghosts on the map, as well, but it didn't look like any students had got lost on the way upstairs.

Hufflepuff was already mostly in their dorm room, and Harry was turning to Slytherin when there were footsteps behind him.

"What is that, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape asked.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry replied, turning to look.

Professor Snape gave him a severe glance. "That, Mr. Potter, is a matter of opinion. I believe I asked you a question."

Harry couldn't argue with that. "Sorry, Professor. This is the Marauder's Map."

"It looks rather like those maps that Lupin has been making," the Potions Master observed. "Though it shows all the students? Is this some sort of advanced version?"

"It's more like it's the prototype," Harry answered. "The Marauders made it back when they were at school. It's an advanced variant on the Protean Charm applied to the whole castle and everything in it, except rooms they never knew existed."

Professor Snape looked at the map, then back at Harry.

"So this is how they always seemed to be able to get out of trouble," he said, very dryly. "How fascinating."

He seemed to be considering something, then smiled.

It was a peculiar expression to see on Professor Snape.

"Well, I have to say, I think there's no more appropriate use for it than using it to make sure nobody breaks curfew," he told Harry. "It's exactly what none of the original creators would have wanted it for."

When Harry eventually got upstairs, he found that – while most of the Gryffindors had gone off to bed – some of the First-Years had ended up staying downstairs in a knot with Hans in the middle.

"Do dwarfs actually all drink beer all the time?" one of the boys asked.

"Well, not really, I've had an occasional drink but that's mostly my uncle sharing it," Hans replied. "I didn't much like any of the ones he shared. I mostly have squash."

A girl spoke up next. "What kind of magic do dwarfs have?"

"It's to do with digging and stone," Hans answered. "I haven't learned any of it yet, though."

"What about-"

"Emily," Harry interrupted, pleasantly, addressing the girl who'd been speaking. "Where are you from?"

"What?" Emily blinked. "Oh, um, I'm from Kent."

"Is it true that the hills in Kent are all made of chalk?" Harry went on.

"Well…" Emily began, looking a bit confused. "Some of them are? I don't know."

Harry kept smiling. "I've heard there are forts and castles and things all over Kent. Do you live in one?"

"No!" the First-Year girl replied. "We live in a house!"

"Can you see France on a clear day?" Harry checked.

"No, I can't!" Emily insisted. "Why do you keep asking me questions?"

"I'm sorry," Harry told her, looking contrite. "Asking someone lots of questions at once like that can be overwhelming, even though it's easy to get carried away talking to someone new."

Emily looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced at Hans. Her mouth formed a silent 'oh' of realization, and Harry smiled – pleased that he didn't have to spell It out.

"You have seven years to get to know one another," he reminded her – and the other first-years. "There's no need to ask all the questions on the first night."

AN:

Yep, that's who I picked for the DADA role.

As for Harry's treats... some clever House-Elf thought of the idea of a "biscuit tin".