Harry swooped gratefully over the treetops, the wind raking cool breeze fingers through his hair. He dipped down to skim his toes on the leaves, laughing as a nearby bird shrieked with indignation. Beside him, Maggie chuckled and urged her broom faster.

"Not quite like a Nimbus Two Thousand, eh Harry?" she shouted over the wind, naming Harry's infamous brand of broom.

He smiled. "Better than any hotel room," he shouted back as his robes whipped up to slap his cheeks and watering eyes.

Maggie pointed to the river nearing them and dived down to meet it. Harry followed closely.

They both swerved and landed lightly on the grassy banks. Harry threw himself onto the grass beside the slow river. Maggie let out a sigh.

"This is my favourite place in Bosington, here by the bridge," she said happily. Harry looked up and saw a cobblestone bridge not far to the right. The trees swayed hypnotically in the breeze. Harry stretched lazily.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when I have to get my school supplies, the Dursleys can't go to Diagon Alley –"

"Oh, don't be silly Harry," interrupted Maggie, "of course we'll take you there, Aunt Beatrice already said so, and Jools hasn't shut up about you since you came over last night. Oh yes, and Beatrice sent an owl to your Weasley friends, we'll be meeting them there and we can all stay at the Leaky Cauldron, eh?"

Harry beamed at her. She smiled back at him, and Harry felt a sudden tickle. He'd never made a friend so fast. For a while they sat there, listening to the water, Harry enjoying the blissful feeling of being free. All too soon, Maggie got to her feet. She grinned at Harry and offered her hand.

"We should go get some lunch at the shop, can't be seen by the Dursleys," she told him. Harry sighed, grabbed her hand and pulled. When he stood up faster than he expected, the two knocked into each other. His face slammed into her nose; Maggie fell back with a cry.

"SORRY!" Harry shouted instantly, as if the louder the word the better the apology. He bent over the fallen girl.

"It's – it's all right, it wasn't your fault," Maggie gasped, but Harry noticed her eyes had watered and blood has blossomed beneath her glasses. She pulled them off to reveal a slice across the bridge of her nose. Maggie smiled. "Not the first time that happened." She pointed at Harry's face. "You, too."
Harry reached up, pulled off his glasses and noticed his fingers smudged with blood.

"Glasses were never my friend."

"Come on Harry, move your feet!" the voice of Mr. Smythe shouted over the heads of Muggles. Not far, the Smythes waited patiently for Harry to say his good-byes to the Dursleys.

Harry turned to his aunt, uncle and cousin, who were shrinking away from the wizards on the train platform.

"Well...bye then," said Harry calmly.

"Off you go," whispered Uncle Vernon, as though his open mouth would let some devil magic in. Aunt Petunia and Dudley quivered behind gigantic eyes.

Harry hurried to the train compartment as it shrieked rudely. He slammed the door behind him and hastened to find the Smythes.

"Over here, Harry!" he heard Jools squeal. Keeping his head down, Harry muttered, "excuse me" to the person closest to him, and shoved his way down the train.

Maggie appeared from nowhere. "Nearly lost us, Harry?" she greeted him, then seized his arm and yanked him into the compartment. The Smythes sat there beaming. Harry smiled and took his seat.

"That was the most boring train ride in the history of train rides, I mean we didn't do anything but sit, and how boring is that Harry? Isn't it boring? Isn't it?"

"Yes, Jools," Harry mumbled. Jools, he had discovered, needed his opinion on everything. It had been all right the first half of the train ride, but when she never stopped asking him...

"Leave him alone, Jools, you've been badgering him all the way here," said Mrs. Smythe sharply. Harry glanced at her gratefully.

"I have not!" Jools flared. "I haven't, have I Harry? I haven't been badgering you? Have I, Harry? I haven't..." Harry let out the tiniest of sighs.

"HERE WE ARE!" trumpeted Mrs. Smythe suddenly, and pulled Jools and Brenda into the Leaky Cauldron. The rest followed, Mr. Smythe keeping a firm grip on Tom.

The group made their way through the dim pub. Harry thought he saw a familiar bright head sitting not that far away...was it...

"RON!" he shouted suddenly, causing a nearby witch to jump a foot in the air. The red-haired head snapped around, and Harry saw that it was, indeed, his freckle-faced best friend.

"HARRY!" Ron roared, and leapt from his seat to run to Harry. He skidded to a halt, then looked confusedly down at Maggie beside Harry.

"You're not Hermione," he said stupidly.

Maggie laughed. "No, I'm not," she told him, and reached a hand up to tap his nose. "I'm Maggie, and you must be Ron."

"Why would you think she was Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Because – well, didn't you get her owl?" Ron spluttered. "She said she'd be meeting us here, probably around the same time as you."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen her – "

"THERE you are, I have been...looking everywhere..." puffed a voice from the door. The two looked to see their third bushy-haired best friend run panting towards them. "I looked all over the train station, Harry, I thought I might see you there..."

"Well that was rather stupid, wasn't it?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow. Hermione shot him an icy glare, then turned to Maggie.

"I'm Maggie," the brunette spoke up quickly. "Harry and I met in Bosington, we run a potion shop up...there..." her voice faded nervously. Hermione was smiling at her, but Ron was inspecting her with a wrinkled nose.

"Where did you say you met?" he sniffed, but Hermione rolled her eyes and interrupted with, "Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours." On the last word, she gave Ron a meaningful elbow in the ribs.

"OUCH! What was tha...oh yes," said Ron with a look of utter chagrin on his face, "friend of Harry's, yes."

"How was your summer?" asked Hermione, and soon the four of them were chattering companionably. Soon, Hermione fished out two envelopes from her pockets. "Here you are, your school letters...they arrived yesterday..."

Harry examined his. "Who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked, the three previous ones being possessed by Lord Voldemort, their memory modified, or a werewolf.

"Mister...mister...ahh, I've forgotten it," replied Hermione. "Some friend of Dumbledore's. Well...shall we go to supper?"