Seamus Finnigan stepped calmly out of the fire. He was carrying an extra pair of pants, which were stuffed and slung over his shoulders, and he had his wand in his pocket.

"Seamus!" shouted Dean, and the two ran up to each other and slapped each other on the back.

"I thought you weren't coming!"

"Me mam didn't wan' me to come. But I couldn' leave my bes' mate stranded," Seamus said with a roguish grin. He slung his bundle to the ground...Harry saw he'd tied the pants cuffs of his school uniform together, and stuffed all of his clothes and possessions into the legs. Seamus glimpsed the bag of marshmallows.

He groaned aloud, and he fell upon the marshmallows, not bothering to toast them.

"Take it easy, we'll go to the kitchens later. What happened to you?"

"Well," Seamus said, winking at Dora Ruff, a pretty young first year, "S'like I said, me mam didn't wan' me to come, on account of You Know Who—" Seamus cast a furtive glance at Harry, "—so she wouldn' give me any money for books or anything. But she wasn' keepin' me at home all year. Me own Da said, 'Seamus, you got to do what's right for you, not what's right for us.' I sorta took that like his permission, y'know? So I packed my things and took the Floo to the Three Broomsticks."

"You've been at the Three Broomsticks this whole time?"

"Nah," Seamus said, swallowing another marshmallow, "Camped out behind the hill...you know, where the Shrieking Shack is? Didn' wan' my folks to find me if they came lookin' for me. At leas' it didn't rain. But I'm starving...didn't have any money, so I couldn't exactly buy anything for dinner. All I had was an apple and a few chocolate frogs."

Harry felt both happy and a little bit guilty as he looked at Seamus – he realized they'd both misjudged each other.

"Welcome back, Seamus!" Harry said, with a grin, "Oi! Arthur!"

"Y-y-y-y-yes?"

"Want a mission?"

Harry told him where to find the portrait of the fruit bowl, and instructed him to tickle the pear and ask for Dobby. Arthur showed up a few minutes later with Dobby and several other house elves carrying trays laden down with leftover chicken legs and wings, hot buttered rolls, and vegetables with creamy tangy dip – the others house elves left bowing and smiling, but Dobby waved his hand, and the same gold baubles Harry had found at their Christmas D.A. meeting last year (minus his face, of course) lit up the common room. For the next hour or so, there was a festive party atmosphere as everyone forgot their homework, and the stress of the first day back, told jokes (Dobby told a very funny one involving a house elf and a hippogriff), and just celebrated being back at Hogwarts together.

Finally, Harry saw Hermione sleeping in an armchair, her goblet of pumpkin juice threatening to slip from her hand. Even Ron was yawning, and the first-years had long since gone to bed.

"Right," Harry said, stretching, "Reckon it's time to get to bed. Here, let me lend you a hand, Dobby..."

"Nonsense, Harry Potter, nonsense!" Dobby squeaked, his eyes shining with moist adoration, "I is never invited to a wizarding party before, sir! I is cleaning everything up. It is Dobby's job, after all!"

And Harry found that all of them were being hustled up to bed as Dobby alternately scooped up plates and goblets and pushed them towards the staircase.

Later, as Harry listened to Seamus's familiar snore from across the room, making an interesting overlapping rhythm to Ron's, he thought back on his day. His stomach full of hot food and pumpkin juice, drowsy with a hard day's work, and snug as a bug under his blankets, Harry reflected that if a rough first day was the price of ending the day this well, he would be more than happy to do it all over again.

His eyes felt heavy...he let his mind drift...

Harry was staring into the smug face of his father, striving to find something he recognized..."Who wants to see me take his pants off?" he asked with a roguish smile, and Harry felt himself being flipped upside down. Sirius was smiling and laughing at him. Ginny Weasley burst in and started scolding them all, but Remus said it wasn't their fault because Harry had killed them in the first place. Suddenly Hermione and Ron swooped in riding Buckbeak the hippogriff, presumably to rescue him, but Harry couldn't grab hold of Hermione's hand – they flew off...Neville was making a daisy chain with Cedric Diggory while Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood tossed a Quaffle back and forth...

Then, Harry felt himself abruptly slip out of his dream, and he was walking down the corridor to the Department of Mysteries again. With a sinking feeling he tried to will his legs to run in the opposite direction, fully aware that he was asleep. Yet, this somehow felt different from last time...he knew Sirius was already dead...why was he here? He reached the door, swung it open, and found himself in the blue-lit room again, torches flickering dimly in their brackets. His heart was pounding.

Suddenly he was running down a corridor at Hogwarts. He heard Ron shouting. What was he saying?

He opened his eyes slowly, seeing the red velvet of his bed hangings near his nose. He heard Seamus muttering to Dean in his lilting accent, and heard Ron clattering around. Yawning, he pulled the hangings aside, and came face to face with Lord Voldemort, staring at him with blood-red eyes.

"GAAH!!"

Harry shot up in bed like a rocket.

"Woah!" shouted Dean.

Ron's anxious face came into view as he jerked Harry's curtain hangings aside.

"Harry! Are you alright?"

He thought fast. "Am I late for class?"

Ron and the other boys laughed.

"You're fine! Just hurry up and get dressed."

"Oh," Harry lied, "Good...thought I was late..."

Harry laid back down and took a deep breath. He wondered briefly whether he should tell someone about his dream...he hadn't the last time. But he finally decided that it wasn't worth it, really. He knew what the dream about the Department of Mysteries was all about, and he'd had plenty of dreams about Hogwarts before that hadn't meant anything.

"If I notice anything odd or new," he resolved, "I'll go straight to Dumbledore."

Harry arrived at breakfast and plunked in his usual spot across from Hermione and Ron. Luna was seated with Neville and Ginny, reading from the Quibbler, and trying out a charm to erase some of Ginny's freckles.

"Morning, all!" Harry said cheerfully, pulling a tray of hard-boiled eggs closer.

"You're in a good mood!" Ginny said happily, brushing a few purple freckles off her nose. Harry noted that Hermione and Ron seemed relieved as well. He secretly felt glad to know his friends had been worrying over him a bit.

"Well, today's an easy day, 'cept for Transfiguration...and we get to see Hagrid," he said, tapping his egg on the table, "Plus, no Occlumency for a week!"

"Oh...er...about that," Hermione said, looking very guilty.

But she was interrupted by a rush of feathers, and a fleet of hooting owls descended on the Great Hall. Errol dropped a box of homemade cookies in front of Ron, and a letter in front of Ginny before flying off, and Hermione had the Daily Prophet dropped neatly on her toast.

"Excellent!" Ron said, opening the tin, "Butterscotch!"

"You're to [I]share[/I] those," Ginny said sternly, waving the card she had just opened, "Mum says!"

"Fine then. Here you go," Ron said, handing her one cookie, "Can't say I didn't share them." Hermione elbowed him smartly, smiling distractedly as she scanned the headlines.

Hedwig also swooped down, with a letter for Harry.

"Who's it from?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry said, "No address. Must be from someone here." Hermione suddenly found an article of great import and began reading seriously.

Harry opened the letter, and a waft of sickly sweet, incense-y smell made his nose smart:

"Dear Mr. Potter,

I was gazing into my crystal the other day, and was surprised to see Miss Granger, of all people, sending me a note via the school owl. So, while it came as no shock to me when she contacted me yesterday, I imagine it will come as a surprise to you.

She told me you had expressed interest in taking yoga over the summer, in an effort to clear your mind for the purposes of better Seeing, and while I had always seen in your Head Line that you were desperately in need of clarity, I was pleased to hear that you were finally heeding my advice on the subject...while Muggles have been throwing their backs out for centuries in an attempt to organize their minds, I feel it is studying the ancient art of Transcendental Meditation that would give you the best hopes of unclouding your Inner Eye (a discipline in which, as you may have heard, I happen to be quite skilled...not that these things matter, of course....I am only pleased that my gift of Sight could be of continued service to the community.)

While my schedule is indeed, very full, I consulted my crystal on the matter, and saw myself assisting you each Tuesday after classes for a period of two hours time...think of it as extra help. And do not worry – even those with the most clouded vision can be aided by this ancient technique. You will find me in the usual place.

Looking forward, as always, Sybill Trelawney

(PS. Miss Granger told me how badly you felt about your Divination OWLS...there is no need to be discouraged. Not all of us were meant to be Seers, but I feel we can all benefit from the study of this deeply personal, and venerable art.) (PPS, You may not have realized it, but Mars and Venus are currently aligned. Do remember to thank Miss Granger for her kind letter, won't you?)"

Harry looked up at Hermione to find her forehead had gone quite red over the top of the newspaper.

"Hermione..."

"Oh [I]don't[/I], Harry!" she wailed, "I thought it would help!"

"What do I care about Divination!" Harry said, cracking his egg a bit too firmly in his irritation, "I was just happy not to have to see that presumptuous old bat anymore. Besides, you make me sound like an idiot..."

"Not Trelawney! Hermione, have you gone mad?" Ron asked, indignantly.

"I thought it would help with your!..." she looked round, and then leaned in closer, "I thought it would help with your Occlumency, Harry! What better way to clear your head than learning to meditate? And who cares if you have to suck up to her a bit..."

"Well, you might've asked me first—"

"[I]SEAMUS BRODY FINNIGAN!!![/I]" bellowed a throaty woman's voice. Harry dropped his egg, and Neville choked on a bit of toast, as they all wheeled around to see Seamus a few yards down the table, shrinking before a smoking red envelope. It burst open, and Mrs. Finnigan's awe-inspiring rant, thick with Irish brogue, filled the Great Hall:

"WHAT BUSINESS D'YE HAVE RUNNING OFF LIKE THA' – DIDN' I TELL YOU WE DIDN'T WANT YOU GOING BACK? – LIKELY TO COME HOME DEAD, FOR ALL WE KNOW – FATHER'S DISTRAUGHT, BEEN DOWN THE PUB ALL NIGHT, FOR ALL YOU CARE, I SUPPOSE IT'S TOO MUCH TO ASK THAT YOU USE YOUR COMMON SENSE, BUT MARK MY WORDS, YOU KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN AND STAY OUT OF BUSINESS THAT'S NOTHIN' TO DO WITH YE, OR IT'LL BE OUR HOUSE BURNING DOWN NEXT, AND THEN WHAT'LL YOU COME CRAWLING HOME TO? AND DON'T YOU DARE WRITE HOME FOR MONEY, BECAUSE THERE SHAN'T BE ANY!"

And with that, the letter burst into flames, and curled into a smoking pile of scraps and ashes on the table.

Ron and Ginny had gone beet red, and were scowling at the remains of their breakfast. Draco Malfoy and several of the Slytherins were laughing a bit performatively. Seamus had gone white-faced and jabbed his eggs with his fork angrily.

Hermione, seemingly meekened by Mrs. Finnigan's display, ventured, "Harry, I'm really sorry, I was just trying to help—"

"I know, Hermione. It's alright," Harry said with a sigh, "We'd better get to class hadn't we?"

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" asked Neville, but at a look from Harry, he seemed to notice Ron and Ginny's embarrassment, and took the hint.

Charms went relatively well. Despite Flitwick's unsettling warnings about the difficulty of their NEWTS, they still had a whole two years to prepare, so they didn't let it unsettle them too much. The first charm Flitwick had them work on was the Homorphus Charm. And there was very little question in their minds as to why...

"The Homorphus Charm is used to turn non-human wizards, for example, Animagi, or potentially a werewolf," Flitwick said delicately in his squeaky voice, "back into their human form."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of his Defense homework, and wondered if Lupin was back in school yet...

"I have invited Professor McGonagall to help us demonstrate...in fact, she should be—ah, here she comes!"

Professor McGonagall swept into the classroom, and Harry thought he saw her tucking a very familiar hourglass pendant into her robes.

"So sorry, Professor – hope I didn't keep you waiting. I nearly forgot."

"Not at all, dear lady," Flitwick chirped, "If you would?"

"Of course," McGonagall said politely, and before their eyes, she shrank and morphed into a gray tabby, and lept stiffly onto Flitwick's desk, settling herself regally.

"Ah, yes. Now you'll note the distinctive markings about her eyes? Nearly all Animagi have distinguishing characteristics such as this, which are noted in a Registry at the Ministry of Magic, but unless you are aware of what markings to look for, it is impossible to disitinguish an Animagus from a regular animal, except of course, for their behavior. Now, who'd like to give it a try?"

Hermione went first, and with a flash of bluish light, successfully managed to reverse the procedure...the cat seemed to grow, and change shape in slow motion, and McGonagall was suddenly sitting primly on the edge of Flitwick's desk.

"Well done, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor!"

They took turns for the rest of the class, though no one else was able to make McGonagall revert to her normal state, though Harry managed to make McGonagall's spectacles appear, seated lopsidedly on her small, black nose, putting her whiskers askew.

Transfiguration followed, and McGonagall swept into class a few minutes late again, a few of her hairs straying from her severe bun. She sat at her desk, a bit out of breath, and gestured for the class to take out their wands. There was a rustle of activity as she composed herself, and then she gave a very similar lecture to Flitwick's about the difficulty they'd be encountering in NEWT level Transfiguration. Harry began to get a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach – the NEWTs really must be nastily exhuasting if they were already issuing such dire warnings...

They spent the rest of the lesson learning about Animagi, and the difficult study involved in learning to use the power. McGonagall stressed thoroughly that Animagi were generally born, not made, and that to learn to become one would be very difficult indeed. Harry found his mind wandering to the Animagi he knew...he imagined his Dad and Sirius chuckling their way through this lecture, already running amok during the nights of the full moon...his thoughts then wandered to Peter Pettigrew, and he felt his stomach tighten with hatred.

"Potter? Have you been paying attention?"

He looked up with a slight feeling of panic, and nodded automatically. There were a few chuckles.

"Good," McGonagall said, eyeing him sternly, "Well then, we might as well have everyone come up here and give it a try. Now, don't feel badly if you can't do it, I'd be shocked if anyone could...as I said, it's really more of a natural talent than anything else..."

One by one they went up to the front of the classroom. McGonagall had them concentrate very hard on the spell, and to see if the image of an animal came into their minds. Most of the time, nobody saw anything. Parvati tried to say that she saw a Unicorn, but McGonagall rolled her eyes and said that it was highly unlikely, as most wizards turned into common, non-magical creatures. Looking a bit disappointed, Parvati sat down.

Finally, Harry got up to the front of the class, feeling quite bored by now, as nobody had so much as managed to muss up their hair.

"Alright, Potter," said McGonagall briskly, "Give it a shot."

Harry closed his eyes and furrowed his brow with concentration.

"Animagus...animagus..."

But the only thing that came to mind was his the image of his silvery stag Patronus...Prongs. His father. He thought of the wedding photo, tucked safely in the album under his bed, of his father's hazel eyes shining with pride...

"That'll do, Potter. Apparently not."

Harry sighed, and returned to his seat.

"Well, don't be too discouraged," McGonagall said, "If you really have your heart set on it, you could manage it with a lot of intensive study. But it's really not necessary. Most of the benefits – being able to disguise yourself, for example, can be attained through various other charms and spells that are much easier to master."

They broke for lunch, and when they reconvened, McGonagall had them review some of last year's Transfiguration work, just to make sure they'd all been practicing over the summer.

Soon, they were out walking in the crisp, September sunshine. Harry breathed in deeply the smell of fall, counted how many of the trees had already starting turning yellow or orange. Hermione and Ron were arguing over what animal they might turn into. Ron had made the tactical error of suggesting that Hermione would actually turn into a bookworm, but even their bickering seemed homey and familiar to Harry.

Finally, they arrived at Hagrid's hut. Malfoy and the Slytherins had already arrived, unfortunately.

"Alright there, scar-head? Weasel king?" Ron scowled, but Harry noted surprisingly that Malfoy had left Hermione out of it.

"Fine, thanks," he said hesitantly. Was this actually Malfoy's feeble attempt at being polite? No, couldn't be. Maybe he had just finally learned that calling Hermione a Mudblood would earn him nothing but a black eye and an unwelcome intrusion from Ginny into his private affairs.

Hagrid came bursting out of his cabin door, grinning merrily, and carrying a large steaming cauldron.

"Allo, there! Allo, you three!" he said, waving at them, "'Ave I got somethin' special for you today!"

Malfoy fidgeted nervously, and Harry and Ron shared a smirk. But secretly, Harry was a little nervous as to what Hagrid might have up his sleeve...he needn't have been however, for their first magical creature of the year came scurrying down Hagrid's front steps...