Return to Platform 9 3/4s

On September 1st, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were bundled off to King's Cross. Their stay at Grimmauld Place had been quiet. Harry's birthday had not gone unnoticed, however. Ron had given Harry an updated broomstick servicing kit, and Hermione had given Harry a copy of the Auror handbook. Everyone had given him something; Mrs. Weasley and Lupin, a box of sweets; Tonks, a subscription to Quidditch Weekly, and Moody, a holster for his wand. The best gift of all had been a large basket of wares from the twin's joke-shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry appreciated this greatly.

They reached King's Cross without incident. Mrs. Weasley hugged everybody, but seemed distracted. Moody pushed the trolley as before, eyes shifting from beneath a thoroughly sinister-looking bowler hat. The muggles around him gave him a wide berth, something that Harry privately found rather amusing. Harry was fairly sure that Tonks was disguised as the heavy set woman in pearls who was discreetly tailing him. The woman seemed to stumble and bump into things a great deal. When they reached platform nine, his suspicions were confirmed as she strode past with a whispered "Wotcher, Harry!"

Everyone looked a little pale as they crossed the barrier. The scarlet Hogwarts Express was surrounded by students. The noise was incredible. Students were calling out to friends, describing their holidays, and squabbling over seats. Cats meowed and owls hooted to each other in a resigned fashion and prefects were vainly attempting to attain some form of order.

Harry and the others soon found an empty compartment and settled in. Harry's face was burning. The Daily Prophet had been praising Harry to the skies all summer, a fact clearly not lost on his classmates. The combination of greetings, waves, and the first year's awestruck stares made him as self-conscious and annoyed as ever.

After dropping off their things, Ron and Hermione headed to the Prefect's carriage and Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood entered. Luna promptly tucked her wand behind her ear, pulled out a copy of The Quibbler, and started reading it upside down.

Neville, however, was different. His round, pleasant face was thinner and he had grown a few inches. He looked more capable and confident.

"Hey Harry! Look at this!" Neville pulled out a wand. "Chestnut and Phoenix feather." he said proudly. "I finally have my own wand, and I reckon I'll do better with it than I ever did with Dad's"

Harry vividly recalled the occasion when Neville's old wand had snapped. A Death Eater had kicked Neville in the face while they fought. He had not only splintered Neville's wand, but shattered his nose as well. Madame Pomfrey had mercifully healed Neville's rose.

An hour passed in companiable silence. No one mentioned the Department of Mysteries, no one needed to. When the doors slid open, Harry looked up, expecting to see Ron and Hermione. Instead, Draco Malfoy stood on the threshold, glaring at him.

A surge of hatred ripped through Harry at the mere sight of Malfoy. He had loathed the Slytherin since first year, and their mutual hatred had only grown since then, increasing exponentially last year. Malfoy had gotten Harry banned from Quidditch, and Harry had put Malfoy's father in the Wizarding prison, Azkaban. Harry gripped he wand, not taking his eyes off Malfoy, who lounged insolently against the door. Through the glass, Harry could see two massive shadows guarding the door. They were Malfoy's cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Well Potty, it appears you lasted another summer." Malfoy drawled. "Let's see…Looney Lovegood, Longbottom, and little Weasley…a fine cast of little friends. Looney, Longbottom who causes devastation with the simplest charms, and hmm…" his cold gray eyes gleamed maliciously, settling on a red-faced Ginny. "Baby Weasel. Wait, your supporting cast is short a few, isn't it, Potty? Where are the Mudblood and Weasel King? What about your favorite mutt and your half-breed friend?

Harry surged to his feet, wand aimed. To his surprise, Neville jumped up as well, wand at the ready. Ginny and Luna leapt forth also, and Malfoy looked apprehensively at Ginny, one eye trained on Harry.

"You'll pay for putting my father in Azkaban, so watch your back, Potty." he sneered, then left quickly.

Harry sat, fighting to control his anger. All at once, all the glass in the compartment splintered, a spider web of cracks threading across the window's surface. Harry closed his eyes and thought of Quidditch, shutting his mind off to all else. When he opened his eyes, Ginny was still staring at the door, indignant.

"I swear, if he comes back in here, I will put a hex on him that will make the last one seem like child's play!" she stormed.

Harry laughed in spite of himself. Neville and Luna, now sure that Harry had regained control, joined in. Last year, Ginny had gotten Malfoy with an extremely powerful Bat Bogey Hex. It had apparently been quite a spectacle, but Harry and Hermione were busy getting rid of Umbridge. Still smiling, Harry repaired the glass in the windows. He felt like he had done a Cheering Charm on himself.

As he finished, Ron and Hermione came in. Ron immediately fell upon the snacks and devoured a pumpkin pasty in two bits. Hermione, however, fixed Harry with a stare that reminded Harry eerily of Professor McGonagall.

"All right Harry, let's hear it." she commanded.

"Hear what?" he frowned, trying to think of whatever Hermione might be interested in. "Oh! Malfoy came in but Ginny-"

"No Harry! Your OWLS! How were your marks?" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh…" A light began to dawn. He had forgotten about the Hogwarts letter he had received the day he left Privet Drive. Tonks and Hestia Jones had done the shopping in Diagon Alley, as Dumbledore considered it too dangerous for the others to go.

"I haven't opened them yet, hang on…" he rummaged in his trunk, and then pulled out the letter. His hands were trembling. With a swift prayer, he broke the seal and read, Hermione and Ron looking over his shoulder.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am pleased to send the results of your OWLS (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) The grading system reads: O for Outstanding

E for Exceeds Expectations, A for Acceptable, P for Poor, D for

Dreadful, and T for Troll. Your results are as follows.

~Ordinary Wizarding Levels~

Defense Against the Dark Arts Written O* Practical O*

Herbology Written O Practical O

Charms Written O* Practical O

Transfiguration Written O Practical O

Care of Magical Creatures Practical O*

Potions Written E Practical O

History of Magic Written D

Divination Practical P

Astronomy Practical E

Congratulations, Mr. Potter. If you have a * next to an O,

Please be aware that it denotes a perfect score.

Sincerely,

Griselda Marchbanks

"Twelve OWLS Harry!" Hermione shrieked and hugged him.

Harry was still staring at the parchment. DADA O*, Transfiguration O, Charms O, Potions O. He had scraped the OWLS required to become an Auror, a Dark wizard catcher. He looked at Hermione.

"How were your marks?"

"Sixteen, although I scored an E on Astronomy." she beamed, looking again at Harry's letter. "You outscored me in DADA, though. How were your marks, Ron?"

Ron looked strangely uncomfortable. "Lets leave it with I had better concentrate on Quidditch." he pulled his results out of his pocket and handed them to Harry, then looked determinedly out the window, the tips of his ears reddening. Harry dropped his eyes to the parchment and read silently. Ron had scored Os in DADA, Potions, and Charms, and an E and an O in Transfiguration. Other than that, Ron's work was scattered Ps and an A.

"That's excellent Ron!" said Harry. "Look, you've got the OWLS to be an Auror!"

"You did much better than I did." ventured Neville. "Mind you, I knew it was off when I sent Professor Tofty zooming into the wall, and it didn't help when I turned my teacup into a squirrel…"

The rest of the trip was spent recounting OWL errors and laughing. They all changed into their Hogwarts robes and cleaned themselves up as best as they could, talking animatedly as they went. As the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Harry felt a pang of grief. He would never hear Hagrid boom "Firs' Years, this way!" again. Instead, the now familiar voice of Professor Grubbly-Plank rang out, calling the first years for their traditional trip across the lake. Harry and the others quickly found one of the carriages that would take them up to the castle. The carriages were drawn by thestrels, winged reptilian horses. The thestrels, invisible to anyone who had not seen someone die, had come in especially useful last year.

Harry stared blindly out the window as the carriage began its swaying progress toward the castle. Thoughts of Hagrid and thestrels had led to thoughts of Sirius, and the prophecy. According to Dumbledore and the prophecy, he would have to kill Voldemort or be killed by Voldemort. Harry had not told his friends about the prophecy; he had not desire whatsoever to see their reactions. He considered one part of the prophecy. And he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not. What kind of power could he possible have that Voldemort did not possess? He could never duel with Voldemort. Harry had watched Voldemort and Dumbledore duel. Voldemort had more spells and sheer magical power at his disposal than Harry could even dream of. Also, their wand would not work properly against each other, since the cores of both consisted of feathers from Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. Harry looked around to find the others staring at him.

"Harry, we're here." said Ron, looking a bit uncertain.

"Oh, Right." replied Harry, and he climbed out of the carriage, picking up Hedwig's cage as he went.