Harry shrugged his bookbag onto his shoulder, exasperated. After the final potions exam, sleep had threatened to seize him all throughout the next three classes. Ever since Hermione had been accepted to the Young Witches Academy for the Incredibly Gifted, Harry had assumed the role of the resident know-it-all, which was not at all a pleasant one. "Hey, Harry!" a familiar voice called from behind him; he felt a hand tap his shoulder.

"Ron," Harry acknowledged, letting out a large yawn.

"Yeah," Ron continued cheerfully; his exams had been canceled when he'd attended his brother Percy's wedding. "Poor Penelope," he had noted, chuckling in the back row with the twins. "Having to marry Weatherby."

"I can't believe you get to graduate!" remarked Ginny, closely following the friends on their way to the Great Hall. "And me, with a whole entire year ahead!"

Her brother laughed. "At least you get to stay with Colin...." Ginny turned pink.

They slowly walked into the Hall, where it was very dark. "Hullo!" Ron called in, able to see no one in the dim light. "Well, Harry, I don't think it's my birthday, so who are they throwing this surprise party for?"

Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Er, Ron, I don't think this is a good thing..." He couldn't see anyone, but he had a strange feeling they could see him.

"Fred! George!" Ron called in, ignoring Harry's comment. "It really isn't funny anymore, come out you guys."

Ginny shook. "Di-did you feel that?" Both boys did. A chill, known all too well to them, passed over the trio. "But You-Know-Who is d-dead." Even in the Dark Lord's departure, still no one could bring themselves to say his name.

"But who - all the Death Eaters are in Azkaban, who could be here?" Ron's voice was a whisper, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. Harry shook his head, completely clueless to whom had caused the dreadful lull only created by Voldemort or his followers.

A piercing laugh rang through the horrid silence. "Harry, I just can't see how you didn't figure it out. You, the cleverest wizard in your year. You, who defeated the Dark Lord and his precious servant. You," the voice, which strangely familiar, but not quite placeable, "the Heir of Godric Gryffindor. And I, the last living one of Slytherin. I, the only one Voldemort feared. I, the son of Elizabeth Slytherin, have conquered with my wit and my strength. With my disguise."

The shadowy figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared at the end of the hall, and Harry felt a searing pain in his scar.