"Finally," said Harry, crossing off August 31 with great relish. Today he was going back to Hogwarts. He dressed in a rush, stuffed his meagre possessions into his trunk, closed the door to Hedwig's cage, and hauled his luggage downstairs. He looked at his new watch, the gift from Ron Weasley, and noted with much relief that it was time to leave for the train station. Uncle Vernon drove him to King's Cross station in London and then left without so much as a "farewell", but Harry didn't care. He loaded his things into a trolley and pushed it casually through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and onto-

Platform nine and three-quarters, where a scarlet steam engine waited to whisk the students off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for ten glorious months in a Dursley-free environment, which was to Harry one of the most advantageous features of the school. Harry felt a thrill of anticipation as he pushed his trolley down the platform, looking for familiar faces.

The first person he recognized stood by the train with his back to Harry, talking to someone hanging out the window of a compartment. He was a redhead, tall and gangling with long arms and legs. He looked exactly like he had the year before, but Harry thought that maybe he looked a few centimetres taller now.

"Ron!" called Harry, and the other turned around and grinned.

"Harry!"

Harry shoved his trolley forward and ran to Ron. They greeted each other with tremendous excitement as it was the first time they'd seen each other in two months. Together they heaved Harry's trunk onto the train and found an empty compartment near the middle. There they stowed themselves and their owls' cages, and settled in to catch up on each other's summer holidays as the steam engine pulled away from the platform.

Ron was explaining how his stuffy older brother Percy had been tested on during the creation of new and improved Canary Creams when their compartment door slid open a crack. A bushy-haired brunette peered in, and pushed the door wide open with a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness I found you two at last!" exclaimed Hermione Granger, entering and shutting the door behind her. She was clutching a large wicker basket containing her cat, Crookshanks. Hermione collapsed on the seat beside Harry, who observed that she also did not appear to have changed at all since last year. "I've had to peek in nearly every compartment. Did you get my present, Harry? I must say, I wondered what was going on when Hedwig showed up at my window in the middle of the night with a letter saying you desperately needed birthday gifts."

"I got Hedwig, too!" said Ron. "I didn't know you were so greedy, Harry."

"It wasn't me who sent Hedwig," said Harry, "it must have been Mrs. Figg or Lupin!"

Ron and Hermione were bewildered.

"Who's Mrs. Figg?" said Ron.

"When did you see Lupin?" asked Hermione at the same time.

So Harry found himself recounting the story of his holiday with Mrs. Figg to Ron and Hermione. When Harry admitted to them that he had been living less than five hundred metres from a witch for fourteen years and never realized it, Ron laughed at him.

"But it sounds like you had a fun summer when you did find out," said Hermione.

"Yeah, I guess I did." Then Harry told them about Mrs. Figg's mysterious business trip at the end of his visit. "Maybe she's going to see Dumbledore at the school."

"Maybe she's going on an espionage mission for our side," Ron suggested excitedly.

Hermione offered no ideas but looked thoughtful. Then she said brightly, "Show us what else you got for your birthday."

They played with the Hippogriff figurine (towards whom Hedwig was very hostile), the fake wands, and the enchanted wristwatch, and studied the Pensieve's thick instruction manual together for a while. The conversation eventually returned to more serious topics, specifically Voldemort and the imminent war.

"Has your scar been hurting a lot?" Ron asked Harry with concern.

Harry nodded. "All summer long. And I've been having nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares?" asked Hermione. Her voice was slightly higher than normal, and Harry knew that she was as scared of Voldemort as he was.

"Explicit ones," said Harry carefully. "Sometimes a bit gory. People dying and so on."

"You can tell us about them if it makes you feel better," said Ron, but in a tone that implied that he really didn't want to hear about Harry's gruesome visions. Ron had a look of immense relief on his face when Harry declined.

"You don't really think he would come back to attack you, do you?" Ron asked Harry.

"Of course I do," said Harry. "Why else d'you suppose I've been dreaming every night about people dying, about myself dying? Of course I think he'll come back to finish the job."

"No, Harry," said Hermione suddenly. "I don't think you need to worry much."

Ron and Harry stared at her. Then Ron began carefully, "Hermione, maybe you didn't understand what we're talking about. We're talking about You- Know-Who, remember?"

"I know, Ron," said Hermione impatiently. "I mean what I say. Do you honestly think that now You-Know-Who -"

"Just call him Voldemort," interrupted Harry crossly. "I'm sick of hearing people call him You-Know-Who and He Who Must Not Be Named and so on."

"Fine," said Hermione obligingly. "But do you genuinely believe that now that Voldemort has his body back, he's going to bother himself with hunting after a fifteen-year-old boy who no longer poses him any threat? I doubt it very much, Harry."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry had to admit, Hermione was making some sense. Of course, none of the three had any way of knowing what Voldemort and the Death Eaters had planned earlier in the Dark Forest.

"Maybe Hermione's right," Harry said slowly. "Voldemort wouldn't really need to kill me, would he?"

"Not unless you got in his way," said Ron, and Harry saw him exchange glances with Hermione.

"I won't," promised Harry. "I'll keep out of danger."

"We'll see that you do," said Hermione, and looked meaningfully at Ron. Harry knew that they would always look out for him, no matter what, just like they had in every year of their friendship. He felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards them.

"What did you do this summer, Hermione?" Ron said nonchalantly. "Neither me nor Harry saw you at all."

"I went to visit my dad's cousins in Canada. They're wheat farmers."

"You didn't go travelling on the Continent?" said Ron very casually.

Hermione looked at him warily. "No, I spent a month in North America and then came back here. why, Ron?"

"No reason," Ron said.

Around quarter to twelve the door slid open and a kindly witch asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry leapt to his feet. "Yes please! I'm starving."

Ron started to get up, too, but when Harry waved his hand and told him that he could get the food himself, Ron obediently settled back into his seat, and Harry went out alone into the corridor to the candy cart, closing the door behind him.

While Harry was choosing his sweets, he heard someone calling his name, and looked down the hall to find Neville Longbottom, an accident-prone acquaintance, excitedly running towards him. Unfortunately, a few feet away from Harry, Neville tripped on his own feet and smashed into the cart, which tipped over onto the carpeted floor, spilling candy everywhere.

"Oops," said Neville, looking embarrassed.

The witch had gone back to the front to ask the train conductor if he had change for Harry's gold Galleons, so Harry and Neville picked up all the sweets and tried to arrange them on the cart as they had been before. When the witch returned with Harry's change, he said good-bye to her and Neville, took up his food, and opened the door.

A bizarre scene met his eyes. Hermione and Ron were still seated across from each other. Hermione sat gazing out the window. The only indication of anything amiss was that her cheeks were flushed slightly pink; but Ron was staring at the floor and doing a good impression of a redheaded tomato. He was blushing red from the tips of his ears to the roots of his hair.

"What happened?" asked Harry, looking between them.

"Nothing," mumbled Ron.

Harry took in the crimson complexion and his trembling hands and deduced the opposite. He turned to Hermione suspiciously. "You didn't hex him, did you?"

Hermione glanced at Ron, and at the same moment Ron snuck a peek at her. When their eyes met briefly they both hastily looked away. "No, I didn't hex him," Hermione said to the floor.

Harry wasn't sure what had gone on while he was out in the hallway, but he was confident they would tell him sometime, so he decided to ignore it. He dumped the sweets on the cushion next to Ron and said, "Then let's eat!"

Throughout the afternoon many of their friends dropped in to visit them and say hello. Several stayed to share the candy. By late afternoon the trio had picked up Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, and Ginny Weasley. They made short work of the treats and it was not long before every candy wrapper was empty and everyone had a stomachache. Then they sat and talked about what surprises might await them at the school.

"D'you think Hagrid's back from conferring with the giants?" Ron wondered.

"I hope he's back because he's our friend," said Hermione slowly, "but I'm not sure if I want to learn any more about Blast-Ended Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Who do you think he'd be replaced by if he'd not back by now?" asked Ginny.

"There're loads of good teachers out there," said Lavender dismissively.

"What about Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Parvati said. "Who's going to teach a jinxed class?"

"It's not jinxed," said Hermione impatiently. "It must be just a coincidence that no one's been able to teach it for more than a year."

The others looked skeptical. Then Ron gasped. "You don't think it might be Snape, do you? After all, he's been after the job for years."

The group lapsed into dismayed silence. Then Harry sighed. "Well, we'll see when we get there." Then he had to break up a fight between Hedwig and the Hippogriff figurine.

The evening drew nearer. The landscape outside became darker and wilder. The compartment cleared out until only Ron and Harry were left because Hermione had gone to Ginny's compartment. They changed into their Hogwarts robes. Harry found his curiosity getting the better of himself, and asked Ron what had gone on while he'd been out In the corridor getting sweets.

Ron shook his head. "I can't tell you," he said, and continued to repeat it despite continual assurances from Harry that he wouldn't tell another living soul. "It's nothing."

Harry was frustrated. He and Ron rarely, if ever, kept secrets from each other. "If it's nothing, why can't you tell me?" he demanded.

Ron turned pink and seemed not to be able to find an answer. Luckily for Ron, at that moment the train began to slow down, and he was saved further questioning from Harry because they were busy getting their luggage.

The evening sky was dark and the air was cool and dry. A prefect told them to leave their luggage on the train, so they got into a horseless carriage without their trunks, but Harry kept his Hippogriff action figure, which dozed in his pocket. Hermione and Neville climbed into Harry and Ron's carriage, and Harry noticed that Ron would not meet Hermione's eyes. Or was it the other way around? In any case, only he and Neville were keeping up the conversation; Ron and Hermione seemed subdued.

Their carriage stopped at the front of the school. To get to the Great Hall, the students pass through the Entrance Hall. Theirs was the last carriage in the line. Ron, Hermione and Neville disembarked, but as Harry moved to the door he carelessly put his hand to his pocket and felt nothing. Harry looked around, but saw nothing on the seats, so dropped to his knees to peer under the seats. As he ran his hand over the carpet in the dark, he heard voices outside the carriage, where his friends were waiting for him.

"Why, the Weasel, the Mudblood, and the Klutz," came a familiar snobby drawl. "All that's missing is Scarhead, and you could go form your own freak show."

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Hermione.

"Ah, a rebuke from the dirtiest blood of the group," gasped Malfoy in mock pain. "I think I'll have to go cry my eyes out now."

"No one cares what you think!" shouted Ron. "Get out of here, you foul, stinking-" and he ranted off a list of profanities Harry knew Fred and George must have taught him.

"Careful, Weasel," said Malfoy warningly, "or I might have to curse those big ears off. I learned a lot of good curses over the summer from my father and his friends."

Harry caught the reference to Lucius Malfoy and his gang, whom Harry knew to be Death Eaters, the evil followers of Voldemort. Hermione chose to ignore the threat. "We know a few good hexes too, Malfoy," she shot back, adding with feigned friendliness, "Oh, Goyle, I see you've got rid of those tentacles you had all over your ugly face at the end of last year. And Malfoy, consider yourself lucky that we're not going to hex you again right now, because you certainly wouldn't come out of it unscathed."

As he listened, Harry was still searching for his Hippogriff figurine. When he felt a small nip at the end of his finger, he knew he'd found his action figure, but as he drew the toy out from under the seats, his hand brushed something else. He pulled it out and studied it, then put it and the Hippogriff in his pocket. Then he got to his feet and stood by the doorway, still out of everyone's view.

"Maybe I'll have a scar like Potter then, and I can get my own pathetic little fan club!" Malfoy was retorting.

"You shut up about Harry, you nasty git!" roared Ron.

"Don't talk to Draco like that!" said Crabbe.

"Watch it, or we might curse you!" quavered Neville.

"Why don't you try it right now, Longbottom, you could use the practise!" jeered Malfoy.

"Hex him, Neville!" Hermione screamed.

"Don't even dare!" ordered Goyle.

"Stop it," said Harry quietly. He'd moved into the doorway, and stood surveying the group with a frosty expression. All activity halted. Ron's face was scarlet with rage. Malfoy stood across from him, sheet-white and furious. Neville's wand was half-raised. Hermione's was pointed at Crabbe. Goyle's hands were stretched towards Neville's neck. They stood immobile in their peculiar tableau, staring at Harry in shock. Harry quietly stepped out of the carriage. Malfoy quickly recovered his usual arrogant poise.

"Well, here's The Scar," he leered scornfully, "the leader of the freaks."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry coldly, turning to face the pale, pointy- faced boy. "I do not want to listen to your slimy voice or see your hideous face, ever again. Now get out of my way."

Malfoy did not move. "I don't take orders from Muggle-loving lunatics," he snarled.

"Get out of my way or I'll hex you."

"Do your worst."

They stood glowering at each other silently for a second. Then, like lightning, they both reached for their wands at the same time. Harry had his wand out first, but then-

"Potter! Threatening the other students?" Severus Snape, the Potions master, was moving towards them. "Put that wand away before I give you a detention! Wouldn't your fan club be disappointed, eh Potter? A detention even before the start of term?"

"But sir, Malfoy was-"

"Mr. Weasley, I do not care to hear your twisted version of events. I know what I'm seeing. Now cease harassing my students and get inside."

Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione quietly marched to the school. Behind him Harry heard Malfoy simpering to Snape. "Oh, thank you sir, I thought he was going to try to hex me, when I was completely unarmed. Cowardly, isn't he? How are you, Professor, did you get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job? Father recommended you, he knows how gifted you are."

Harry watched Ron slowly turning green with revulsion. He strained to hear Snape's answer.

"Unfortunately, I was bypassed for the position once again, Malfoy."

Harry and his friends all sighed in relief.

"That's terrible, sir!" exclaimed Malfoy. "Who is the new teacher then?"

"I'm afraid I have not been informed as of yet," said Snape. "But I'm sure he or she is reasonably competent." He said this in a manner which conveyed that he was certain the exact opposite was true.

The four Gryffindors hurried into the Entrance Hall. "Did you hear that?" squealed Hermione. "He's not teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

Neville looked ready to faint with excitement, because Snape always seemed to particularly single him out. "I'm so happy, I could start turning cartwheels right here! But then I'd get handprints on the floor, and Filch'd be after my skin."

"Speaking of Filch," said Ron, frowning, "there's Mrs. Norris and- Hey! Look Harry, Mrs. Norris has got a friend!"

Harry looked, and sure enough, the caretaker Argus Filch's nasty cat was accompanied by another creature. But, Harry realized, the new animal looked rather familiar.

"Oh, no," sighed Hermione. "Isn't that just what we need? Another cat to spy on us."

"That's no cat," said Harry, staring disbelievingly at the creature's soft grey speckled fur. The animal jumped at the sound of his voice, and with an excited purr, rushed to nuzzle his shins. Harry bent and picked it up.

"Tibbles?" he whispered incredulously. "Tibbles II? What are you doing here? You can't be here." A thought struck him. "Unless-"

"Hello, Potter," said a voice behind them. All four spun around to find Mrs. Figg, with four cats swarming round her feet. Tibbles II instantly moved to join its kin.

"You're not Mrs. Figg, are you?" stammered Ron.

"It's Professor Figg now, thank you," said Mrs. Figg composedly. "I'm a new teacher. Now go on into the Great Hall, the Sorting is starting."

Professor Figg ushered them into the Great Hall, where four long tables stood, and the four fifth-years moved directly to the table on the far left, over which hung scarlet and gold banners bearing the Gryffindor crest. The group seated themselves among their fellow fifth-year Gryffindors and Harry looked about with interest. Between the two middle tables was an assembly of first-year students, all of whom looked terrified of the Sorting test awaiting them. Some of them were gazing up at the ceiling, which was bewitched to look like the sky outside. The ceiling now opened up into a clear, cloudless night sky, with a few faint stars twinkling in the sunset.