Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of gentle hooting. He opened his eyes reluctantly, buried deep beneath the woolen blankets of the little bed and feeling warmer and happier than he had in ages. Hedwig was perched at the foot of his bed, staring curiously at her master.

'I was having a good dream,' Harry muttered, and reached for his glasses, before suddenly realizing that he'd never taken them off. He sat up and looked about him. Early morning sunshine framed the open window to his left, bathing the entire room in a warm glow. Harry sighed contentedly. He could almost believe that the past few months had been nothing more than a long, bad dream. Surely, nothing too terrible could happen in a place like this.

Ron grunted sleepily from Harry's right, stretching and rolling over beneath his covers.

'S'not morning already, is it?' he mumbled.

Harry threw a pillow at him. 'Get up, you. I want to see the store.'

Ron grumbled something inaudible and sat up, his flame-red hair sticking out at impossible angles. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

'Couldn't have had more than three hours' sleep,' he yawned.

'It'll have to do you,' Harry said, throwing his covers off him. He made his way towards his trunk, pulled it open, and began rummaging about for something to wear.

Ron yawned again. 'Breakfast first,' he said. 'I'm not showing you the store 'til we've had something to eat.'

'Fine,' Harry said, tugging a fresh t-shirt on over his head. He thought suddenly of Mrs. Weasley's cooking and realized that he was rather hungry, as well. 'Let's hurry it up though... Do you think the others are awake yet?'

'Well, Fred and George are, for sure,' Ron said, pulling last night's clothes off and tossing them haphazardly into a corner. 'They have to open the store at eight o'clock, and they do like to read the paper beforehand. Mum's probably up, too.'

'How about your dad?' Harry wondered. 'Is he around?'

'Oh, he's probably already at work,' Ron said. 'Things are just mad at the Ministry these days, now that everyone's acknowledged You-Know-Who's return.'

Harry shuddered involuntarily. He didn't want to think too much about Voldemort right now, not when he was suddenly feeling cheerful again after so much gloominess.

'Right... This way,' Ron said, and led Harry through the wooden door. It opened up into a narrow but well-lit corridor, lined with many mismatched doors and more wizard paintings. Harry tried to get a good look at them as Ron led him past, but it seemed most of the subjects were having a lie-in; the only creature that stirred within the frames was a small, brown rabbit, which twitched its whiskers at Harry and then bounded swiftly away.

Ron led Harry down a creaky, winding staircase, and all at once the smells of baking met Harry's nostrils. He breathed in hungrily and trotted down the stairs with a little more enthusiasm.

'Look who it is!' said George, as Harry and Ron stepped off the bottom of the staircase and into a compact and slightly messy kitchen. Ron's older brother was seated at a table, across from his twin. Mrs. Weasley looked up from the stove, where she was tending to a veritable herd of self-stirring pots.

'Oh, boys, you're up bright and early,' she exclaimed. 'Sit down, now, I already made up breakfast for these two and there's plenty to go around.'

Harry and Ron thanked her and sat down next to George and Fred, respectively. Fred was leafing through the Daily Prophet while sipping his tea.

'This is rubbish,' he said, disgusted. 'Pure sensationalism, this is. Why, they're using You-Know-Who's return to sell papers, that's all.'

'Now, now,' Mrs. Weasley said, bringing a fresh pot of tea over to the table. 'It's better to be on the alert than to refuse to believe these things are happening.'

'Really, Mum, the stuff they put in that paper... Most of it's rumours and fairy tales,' George said.

'It's true,' Fred agreed. 'Take this for instance...' He folded the paper and began to read an article on the front page. '"Death Eaters attack Jaadoo Academy of Magical Arts in Bengal, India... No survivors were found." Really, Death Eaters in India? What on Earth could they want there?'

'And how convenient that there were no survivors,' George added. 'There're no witnesses that way, no one to verify the story.'

'Boys!' Mrs. Weasley scolded. 'You really ought not to speak like that. What if it is true? There would be hundreds of parents without their children this morning, and you two scoffing at them!'

'Calm down, Mum,' George said. 'I've never heard of the school, it probably doesn't even exist. And besides, the school year hasn't started yet – even if the attack had happened, how many people could there have been hanging about?'

'Hmph,' said Mrs. Weasley, and laid a plate of crumpets on the table before turning to ascend the staircase. 'I'm going to go see if the girls are getting up – I'll have to make another batch if they are.'

'Your mum's the greatest,' Harry commented, taking a bite out of a steaming hot crumpet.

'Yeah, she is pretty cool,' Ron agreed.

Harry read the back of Fred's paper from across the table. Indeed, it did seem every article bore some relation to Voldemort. Some really were rather ridiculous: Lightning strikes Puddlemere United's star beater during practice – could this be the work of the Dark Lord?, Ruined mandrake crop in Spain blamed on Death Eaters, and Lowest ever NEWT scores by English wizarding students could have been the result of Dark Arts interference were only some of the headlines.

Harry was distracted from his reading by what sounded like a stampede of elephants descending the staircase.

'Good morning!' Ginny exclaimed, jumping from the fifth step from the top to land with a bang on the kitchen's wooden floor. 'I had the best sleep ever, didn't you?'

Hermione followed a moment later, yawning. 'I really shouldn't stay up so late,' she muttered. 'Lord knows I'll be getting no sleep this year at school – I ought to be resting up while I can.'

'Oh, shut up, who can think about school this early in the summer?' Ron muttered. 'You're obsessed, that's your problem.'

Hermione glared condescendingly at Ron and sat down beside him at the table. 'Obsessed or not, I'm not the one who can't get into Potions this year.'

Ron shrunk into his chair. 'Don't want to talk about that right now,' he mumbled.

'Don't want to talk about what?' Mrs. Weasley demanded, apparating suddenly into the kitchen.

'Oh, nothing,' Fred said innocently. 'Just about how he totally blew his Potions OWL exam and won't be allowed to spend another tender afternoon in the presence of the delightful Severus Snape ever again.'

Mrs. Weasley bristled. 'Ron! You've really put things off far too long. It's time to send your course selection away, before all the classes get filled up.'

'They won't get filled up, Mum –'

'And it really is disgraceful how poorly you did in Potions,' she continued. 'It's such an important subject, after all! Why, your father and I never had any trouble in that class.'

'Well, you weren't taught by Snape,' Ron muttered. 'He hates all Gryffindors, Mum, honestly! I was doomed from the start!'

'Hermione did very well,' Mrs. Weasley stated angrily. 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but she's a Gryffindor, too.'

Hermione blushed as Ron mumbled something about bookworms and teachers' pets.

'It's your own fault for not studying harder, and that's all there is to it,' Mrs. Weasley said. 'It's time you stopped making excuses and just owned up to the fact that you ought to have tried harder if you wanted to get into OWL Potions. Really, Ronald.'

'But... Harry didn't make it in, either!' Ron protested. 'And everyone knows he's a pretty good student.'

'Unlike you, Harry has dozens of excuses,' Mrs. Weasley stated, gazing sympathetically at Harry. 'What a nightmarish year you must have had, Harry! I can't imagine what it must have been like to have to focus on your examinations with all those horrible things happening around you.'

'What about me? Horrible things happened to me, too,' Ron protested. 'Dad got bit by the snake, remember? And that night at the Ministry...'

'Don't remind me!' Mrs. Weasley muttered, waving her hands about as though to shoo away the memories. 'But whatever happened to you, Ronald, was nothing compared to what poor Harry had to go through. You ought to stop being so self-centred.'

'It wasn't so bad, really,' Harry said, feeling his face grow red from the excessive attention. 'I should've done better on that exam, as well.'

Mrs. Weasley glared at Ron. 'You see? He owns up to his mistakes! Unlike some young wizards I know!'

'Mum!'

'You two really ought to send off your applications, though,' Hermione interjected. 'I sent mine off ages ago, and already got my acceptance letters and book lists.'

'But what about Potions?' Ron said mournfully.

'You'll just have to talk to the teachers once you get to school,' Hermione said sternly. 'Honestly, Ronald, they were pretty clear in the letters that students who didn't meet the entrance criteria to OWL courses would not be admitted.'

'This stinks,' Ron said, burying his face in his hands. Harry felt equally upset – the only teacher he'd be able to talk to regarding admission to Potions class would be Snape himself, and Harry didn't even want to think about the man's reaction to a suggestion that Harry be given special treatment.

'Stop fretting,' Fred said, putting down the Prophet. 'George and I did much worse on the OWLs than you two did, and things turned out great for us.'

'I don't want to own a joke shop, though,' Ron moaned. 'I want to be an auror!'

'Are you suggesting it takes less smarts to run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes than it does to track down dark wizards?' Fred demanded indignantly.

'Oh, be quiet, all of you!' Mrs. Weasley barked. 'Ron and Harry, why don't you go send off your applications now and be done with it?'

Harry nodded, and he and Ron rose from the table to go deposit their dishes in the sink. (The faucet rinsed them off on its own, then sent the plates flying into the dish towel, which caught them and quickly dried them off before stacking them neatly in a pile.)

'I hate Potions,' Ron moaned, climbing the staircase lethargically. 'Why am I so upset about not being able to get in? You'd think it'd be the best thing that could've happened.'

'I know,' Harry muttered. 'Damn that Snape – I'm sure we didn't learn as much as we should've with him.'

'Huh... I'd believe that if Hermione hadn't gotten an "O" on the exam,' Ron said. 'But then, she is a bit of a freak.'

'Makes me wish I was a freak,' Harry said, as he and Ron entered their bedroom. They both began rummaging about for their application packages in dejected silence.

'Got it,' Ron said, pulling out a rather crumpled packet of papers and sitting down on his bed.

'Mine, too,' Harry said, a moment later, and fell back onto his bed with his own package, quill in hand.

'Right... I can get into OWL Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology,' Ron said, squinting down at his paper.

'Me, too,' Harry said. 'There're other classes, though, too – ones we haven't had before.'

'What, you mean like this "Evolution of Magical Theory" thing?' Ron wondered.

'Yeah, but you need OWL History to get into that one...'

They poured over their packages for a good five minutes, rapidly dismissing all the new classes as worthless or impossible to get into.

'To be completely honest, the only one I really care about is Defense Against the Dark Arts,' Harry admitted after a while.

'Me too, I guess,' Ron agreed. 'I wonder who's teaching this year?'

'Oh, God... Anybody would be better than that Umbridge woman,' Harry muttered. 'I'd pick Snape over that cow.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'Harry... you don't think Snape could've gotten the job at last, do you?'

Harry shuddered. 'I hope not... That's the only class where I actually care about learning the material.'

Ron nodded worriedly. 'Let's just take what we can get into, then,' he said. 'At least we'll be in the same classes, even if the teachers turn out to be mad.'

Harry agreed, and quickly had his paper filled out. It wasn't nearly as many courses as he usually took – but then, perhaps he'd be able to fit Potions into his schedule later on, that way...

'Pig can deliver these,' Ron said, taking Harry's paper. 'Let's just send them off and forget about it for the rest of the summer.'

Harry couldn't have agreed more. He and Ron returned to the kitchen, tied the rolls of parchment to Ron's tiny owl's legs, and sent the excited creature hooting joyfully through to window and towards Hogwarts. Harry watched the bird rise up over the roofs of the shops, disappearing quickly from view.

'Glad that's over with,' Ron said with a sigh.

'Me too,' Harry agreed. He did feel slightly more relaxed now – at least it was out of his hands. There was nothing else he could do about the matter until school started.

'Um... hello,' said a voice from behind Harry. 'Nice to see you again, Harry.'

Harry turned to meet the source of the voice. Much to his surprise, Ron's brother Percy stood at the foot of the stairs, awkwardly clutching a heap of folders.

'Oh!' Harry exclaimed, caught off guard. 'Um... nice to see you, too, Percy.'

Percy drew himself up a little. 'I'm afraid I won't be around much today. I... er... have a lot of filing to do... for the shop, and all... I don't think I'll be done before this evening.'

'That's... um... too bad,' Harry remarked, and felt his arms cross involuntarily.

'See you later, then, Percival,' Fred said loudly, from where he sat. 'Wouldn't want to keep you away from those files, now, would we?'

Percy blinked and absently tried to rearrange the folders in his arms. 'Right... I'll do that... I'll go right now.'

'Good man,' George said, not looking up from the paper he was reading. Percy bowed slightly and was gone through a door in an instant.

'Is he alright?' Harry wondered.

'Yeah, he's just a bit shaken up from the You-Know-Who episode,' Ron muttered. 'He's been like that all summer. Honestly, he doesn't know how to act if he's not being a pompous twit, and he sure can't be one of those these days.'

'You ought to be nicer to him, though,' Hermione said. 'He's not a bad person, really. He does try.'

'Huh!' Fred muttered. 'He's just embarrassed, that's all.'

'As he should be,' George said, draining the last of his tea. 'Right... I'm ready to open up shop. Who's with me?'

They all were, barring Mrs. Weasley, who opted to stay back and finish some work. Harry wondered what sort of work she had in mind; he hadn't asked Ron if the Order of the Phoenix was still operational. He followed the others through a door – not the one Percy had gone through, but one near the stove – and entered into one of the most unbelievable rooms he'd ever seen.