A/N: The beginning is a bit odd. Don't be dismayed, the rest is much less mysterious. But yes, this fic can be a bit dark--don't worry: it will have humor and romance plot lines as well. In fact, a lot of romance will come soon. And now, for the fic!
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Harry Potter looked up from his copy The Daily Prophet. The train had arrived, at last. He stood up, grabbed his trolley, and bounded towards the train, hoping to find an empty compartment. As Harry boarded the train, he turned around at stared back at London. Did he really want to leave? Yes, it was time for a change. Harry turned back towards the train, and set off down the corridor, peeking into each compartment to see if it was occupied. Soon, he found an empty compartment, and entered it. He sat down and buried his face in his hands. He liked being on his own--though others had always surrounded him in his childhood--and he didn't understand why he felt so melancholy. But yet, he did understand. He felt solitude creeping up on him, a silent shadow of mourning. "No!" he said suddenly.
Harry's hands went to the sides of his head. Though people were talking loudly in the compartments around him, Harry heard only a deep, overwhelming silence. He looked out the window at the countryside. It was a blur of green farmland and blue sky, with a streamer of white clouds. He took deep breaths, trying to clam himself down. And then a horrible thought popped into Harry's mind.
"Is this what it feels like to be dead?"
"No," Harry said, promptly. He was shaking. His fingers felt numb. Suddenly, everything was noisy again. Too loud. Sharp searing in his forehead. The train was going faster and faster, spinning.
Harry screamed. Yet no sound came out of his mouth. He rolled off the seat, onto the floor.
Suddenly, the train stopped. Harry could see the station out the window. It was an abandoned station. A ghost station. And then Harry looked closer. The graffiti seemed to disappear. It must have been some sort of an illusion. Upon closer examination, Harry realized that the station sign read, in bold letters, Hogsmeade. Could it be possible? And the train had stopped Harry stood up and reached frantically for his suitcase. Then he ran, boyishly, down the corridor. He stopped at the first door he came to, and got off the train. He kept running when he got to a flight of stairs. He went down them, rapidly. And suddenly he was there. In Hogsmeade. Harry took a deep breath, taking in all the familiar sights, sounds, and feelings.
Harry turned around in circles, taking it all in. He beamed at the world. Happiness soared up into his throat. It seemed as if he would soon burst into tears. Of joy. Slightly dizzy, he began walking down the street, towards the Three Broomsticks. Suddenly, he bumped into a young woman carrying two large shopping bags. Harry tripped, and nearly toppled over. The woman's shopping bags split, and she clutched her heart.
"I--I'm dreadfully sorry," said Harry, going rather red in the face.
The woman stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened.
"Harry? Harry!"
"What? Is that you, Hermione?"
"Yes, yes it is. Oh Harry, you've been away for nearly six months. Me and Ron have been missing you terribly. Where have you been? Yes, I know, London. But where?"
"Err Hermione?"
"Oh. Yes. Why don't you come on over to my place. As soon as I pick up this stuff." Hermione bent down to stuff the groceries into the ripped shopping bags. Harry leaned over to help, too. Soon they were on their way through Hogsmeade, to Hermione's house.