If you hadn't noticed already, this story takes place in a fictional Sixth Year at Hogwarts!

Please read and review – thanks from Hollow Bastion

Chapter One – Gringotts, Flourish and Weasley

"Harry! Oh! Oh! Harry! Harry!"

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, offered the entire Creevy family an embarrassed wave and blinked as four cameras flashed in his face.

"That," Colin would say later as the photographs were developed and Harry's embarrassed image would try to hide behind the bushy haired Hermione Granger or the lanky Ron Weasley, "That, is Harry Potter, my friend. Can you believe it? And that's Hermione Granger. And Ron Weasley. I go to school with those people!"

Diagon Alley resumed its usual hubub of activity in the dying days of August when all Hogwarts students rallied to buy their latest books and supplies for a new year at one of the most widely renowned schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the continent, if not the world. As Harry and his friends wound their way through the crowds, they made sure to take in every bit as Diagon Alley seemed to change every year. Of course, the older shops, Flourish and Blotts, Mr Ollivanderand Gringotts were still there – however there were some new additions, particularly Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Ron burst through the door in delight, the bell jingling and with a big grin on his face, spun round to face Harry.

"Isn't it great?" he gushed, "Harry, mate, you're incredible!"

Harry grinned, "It wasn't me. Fred and George did all the work!"

"But if it wasn't..."

"Well, yeah, the Triwizard winnings were helpful, but we all knew Fred and George would make it anyway! So technically, I did nothing!" replied Harry, still blushing.

"Ron!" a familiar voice called, "Ickle Ronnie!"

Fred and George Weasley, identical twins, were strikingly similar to their own little brother – even though Ron had grown rapidly over the summer and was already taller than the lanky twins. All had the same coppery red hair, pale skin and freckles, although the twins had smaller ears and naturally expressive faces which meant every grin, laugh and smile was incredibly infectious.

"How's it going Ron?" asked George, slapping Ron on the back and then bear hugging him.

"Good!" gasped Ron as Fred swept in and squeezed him as well, "And you two?"

"Awesome!"

"Wonderful!"

"Superb!"

They all lost track of which twin said what until they both looked terribly serious. Then, sweeping aside, they gestured for the group to walk on in. For the next few minutes, Harry and Hermione picked their way through Exploding Eggs, the phenomenally successful Skiving Snackboxes and dodged some particularly aggressive Fake Fighting Feet And Other Humorous Dismembered Parts until they had covered the fantastical premises.

"I'm impressed!" announced Hermione, "Very impressed! You boys have done a marvellous job! I must admit, I was a bit sceptical about whether you'd do well, but..."

The twins leaned in. Hermione admitting she was wrong was a very rare event.

"I was wrong!"

The twins laughed and hugged Hermione as well, who came away rosy cheeked and slightly flushed.

"It'd all be okay..." started Fred.

"If we weren't vying for space however..." finished George.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"Well," announced George, "There's some property between us and Flourish and Blotts which came up for sale. As business is booming for both of us – we both want it. But Gringotts is also interested and wants to set up a Financial Advice Centre on the premises then extend the vaults under all of Diagon Alley. And unfortunately, its all getting a bit competitive..."

Ron shrugged, "Aren't you two making enough money?"

"Yes," sighed Fred, "But from a business point of view, its too good to pass up! So the amount we offer keeps going up..."

"And up..." interrupted George.

"And up..." finished Fred, "But we're determined to be the ones who own it. If only the Poison Pen Parchments stop..."

"Poison Pen Parchments?" asked Harry.

"They're like jinxes or curses," explained Hermione, a walking encyclopaedia of information, "A Poison Pen Parchment is activated when the receiver breaks the seal. Then the curse is loose in whatever form the sender requires. They're quite nasty – and steeped in Dark Magic. They were forbidden in 1923 when owls were killed transporting them and Muggles ended up receiving some of them. It was a nasty mess, people sprouting antlers, having monster children, that sort of thing..."

"Are you two alright?" asked a wide eyed and worried Ron, "I mean, it doesn't sound safe!"

Fred guffawed and George sniggered, "Oh, we'll be fine. I mean. We've sent so many practical joke parchments in the past we just get rid of the Poison Pen Parchments now. The first one took us by surprise, but Fred's nearly lost all the burns..."

"Well," Harry sighed, "It was good seeing you two again, but we're going to have to head off. We're spending the night in the Leaky Cauldron then heading off to Hogwarts in the morning. And we promised your mum we'd be in our rooms by six. She said a shady sort starts frequenting Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley after dark..."

"Its true, we do finish work then!" laughed Fred, but George, looking slightly serious, nodded, "Its probably a good idea. Head off back, and we'll come see you off tomorrow at the station!"

With waves and hugs all round, the trio finished their shopping and made their way back to the old pub...

Harry grinned, "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Of course!" sighed Hermione, "Viktor loves them!"

They looked at a pair of Madame Pinky's Practical Pockets – pockets you could sew onto any item of clothing and each one had a charm enabling them to hold anything up to the size of a horse. Hermione, who had been shopping for Viktor's birthday, had found precious little that the famous Quidditch star probably wanted and settled for the very useful, if not entirely glamorous presents.

They were sat in Harry and Ron's small room, the two single beds at far walls, a single candle lighting the entire room.

"So, you two are getting on well then?" Ron interjected.

If anything, while Ron respected Viktor Krumm as a Quidditch player, he loathed him as a human being. Viktor hadn't been very endearing two years ago when, in the Triwizard Tournament, he had pouted, fussed and moaned. However, Hermione found him fascinating and wrote to him almost weekly – which curiously seemed to aggravate Ron even more.

"Yes, very well!" replied Hermione sweetly, and then in an attempt to change the conversation, she asked, "So, everyone looking forward to the new school year?"

"Well, it can't get worse..." sighed Harry, "Can it?"

True. Voldemort was back. Sirius had died. The prophecy detailing why Voldemort had wanted Harry dead was gone forever. But... It couldn't get worse. It couldn't!

"Sorry," sighed Harry, "I've been up and down like a yoyo ever since June. I'm trying to cope, honest, its just hard sometimes..."

Hermione smiled softly and patted Harry's hand, "Its fine Harry, really. We'll be on hand to help you through it! Anyway, we'll be back at Hogwarts for a whole year! It'll be wonderful!"

Harry nodded, and yawned quietly. It would be time to sleep soon, and get up early to catch the train...

In Knockturn Alley, a darkly dressed character stopped to peer through a window. Standing up, Crucis Malfoy drew back his lips in a thin smile. Then, turning, he froze suddenly and let out a quiet squeak of fright mixed with pain. He couldn't move. Not one inch. Struggling a little, he felt magical constraints tighten and force a little air from his lungs. Cool breath washed over his neck and a quiet voice whispered, "Ah, pretty pretty Mr Malfoy. How do you do! Cousin of Lucius... Uncle of Draco..."

Crucis felt a stab of pride at this mentioning of his family, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Simple, Mr Malfoy. Your death. But first..." replied the voice, "Your magic!"

Crucis cried out as he was spun around and that curious voice spat a spell, "Magicus Retrivum!"

Blue light lanced into his chest and drew out something small and red crossed with silver, deep within which a pinprick of light throbbed. His magic. The very essence of his soul, the very part of himself which made him a wizard, had been removed.

Then, words he didn't know, a fatal curse not divulged to him, whispered on the breeze, "Malicia Annhilata Rendum..."

Death came quickly, in a wave of overwhelming pain...