Harry had spent an entire contented month with the Weasleys before he even gave a thought to the upcoming school year.

He woke up wonderfully late one morning, the sun casting its golden brilliance over the cot on which he lay. As consciousness slowly dissipated the fog of sleep, a thought came jarringly into his brain.

"Hey, Ron?"

Ron's groggy voice sounded from the depths of his orange covers. "Whaat?" he said blearily.

"Is Gringotts the only wizarding bank?"

Ron sat up, an eyebrow quirked. "Not at all."

Harry fell silent.

A confused look slid onto Ron's face. "Why?"

Harry took a breath, but paused thoughtfully before speaking. "I was just wondering...if Kelsey were to come over to Diagon Alley before school, we might see her." He frowned. "But if she doesn't need to come to Gringotts, I can't see that she'd have much of a reason to come to London at all, except maybe to ride the Hogwarts Express."

Ron didn't seem able to think up an adequate answer, so he simply shrugged his bony shoulders and ran his fingers through the elaborate crimson bed- hair with which he was so fashionably endowed.

"Boys! Time for breakfast! Fred, George, Ron, Harry! Get up, get up!" Mrs. Weasley hollered from the bottom of the stairs. Harry and Ron groaned, and trudged out into the hallway, where a drowsy pair of twins was just beginning a very noisy descent down the staircase.

Fred, George, Harry and Ron entered the fragrant kitchen, all taking their seats at the breakfast table where Mr. Weasley, Ginny, and Percy already sat. Mrs. Weasley bustled about, setting down platters of food here and there, until the entire length of the table was creaking beneath incredible amounts of fried eggs, sausage links, flapjacks the size of Harry's entire head, and several pitchers of golden-brown syrup.

Once Mrs. Weasley had finally taken her seat and begun to sip at her orange juice, Percy cleared his throat. "There's been a bit of a rough patch at the Ministry," he began, affecting an air of importance.

"Yeah," Fred stage-whispered to Harry and Ron. "They're having trouble figuring out how to get rid of him." Harry hid his smile in a forkful of sausage.

Percy shot Fred a supercilious glare from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and Harry was at once reminded of the sheer number of such glares he and his friends had received, when Percy had been a prefect, and later Head Boy during their previous years of school.

"The problem is this bloody American school," Percy continued, voice dripping with disdain. "Willowfletcher's." He shoveled a great bite of eggs into his mouth, dabbed at his lips daintily with his napkin , and saw fit to keep speaking.

"Odd thing they're doing, really. Seems they're shipping a few of their students off to other schools, no real reason for it if you ask me, no matter what the headmistress claims."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look of astonishment.

"Isn't that the school Kelsey was going to?" Ron asked, so quietly that he was hardly audible. Harry, however, caught the gist of his question and nodded, decidedly keeping an ear open to Percy's surprisingly useful gossip.

"Cornelius thinks it extremely suspicious, of course." Harry heard Ron strangle a laugh next to him. After his previous employer, Mr. Crouch, had met a rather untimely end, Percy was employed as assistant to the Minister of Magic himself. Unfortunately, this development did nothing to deflate Percy's swollen ego.

"Nothing's set in stone yet, but apparently Dumbledore's already written the headmistress, consenting to take in one of the students," Percy said knowledgably. Harry felt Ron elbow him, rather hard, actually, in the ribs.

"So it's true," he murmured, giving Harry a stunned look. "We'll have to owl Hermione."

Harry and Ron rinsed off their perfectly empty dishes and set them in the sink, then raced upstairs to pen an informative letter to Hermione.

Harry paused in his writing, and asked Ron absently, "D'you think I should send one to Sirius, too?"

Ron looked thoughtful for a minute. "If you really want to. It's not that important, though, is it?"

Harry shrugged. "Here, how does this sound?" He handed Ron the sheaf of parchment, black ink thrown across it in Harry's untidy scrawl.

Hermione, According to Percy, an American school, Willowfletcher's, is sending students off to other schools, and Dumbledore's agreed to take on one of them. We're assuming this is Kelsey, but we're not sure yet. But we definitely know that Willowfletcher's was the school in my dream. On another note, we're going to Diagon Alley on August 26th. Meet you in the Leaky Cauldron. Hope we have more news for you then. Best Wishes,

Harry

Ron handed the letter back to Harry once he'd finished reading it. "It's fine."

Harry nodded, rolled up the note, and opened the door of Hedwig's cage. Gently removing the snowy owl, he unwrapped a bit of toast from a napkin in his pocket, and held it out for her to take.

While Hedwig munched the marmalade-smeared toast, Harry tied the letter to her leg. After finishing her breakfast, Hedwig nipped Harry's finger tenderly, and set off through the open window. For a moment, her blinding white could be seen, brilliant against the blue sky, but she soon shrank into the distance.

Harry had hardly even begun to have his fill of sun-drenched days at the Burrow, when August, quite suddenly, began to creep past.

One slow, pleasant day mid-month, Harry decided to attempt extracting a little more information out of Percy.

"So Percy...what's this student's name, this American coming to Hogwarts?" Harry asked him, in a way he privately thought to sound quite innocent.

Percy looked lost for a moment. "Well, Harry, you see...that is to say..." He paused, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. "I'm not sure. But I'll be sure to check with Cornelius." Then his pompousness returned, as quickly as it had taken hiatus. "If, in fact, it is information that I am permitted to share with you, I will, of course, let you know."

Harry attempted to tone down the excitement in his voice, in favor of humble gratitude. "Great. Thanks."

That evening, Percy unknowingly shoved another puzzle piece into place.

"Well, Harry, seeing as how you wanted to know, the Willowfletcher's student is a fifth-year girl, Kelsey Modello." Percy shook his head slightly, as though not understanding something. "Why her parents moved to America I'll never know, but the Modellos are actually from London. Kelsey would've already been going to Hogwarts, like her father, but—"

"Her father went to Hogwarts?" Harry broke in without thinking.

Percy gave him an odd look. "Yes, I did say that, didn't I?"

Harry quickly backpedaled. "I just, er, wasn't sure I'd heard you right." He flashed Percy a bright grin. "Well, thanks for finding out for me!"

With that, Harry dashed off to tell Ron. Letting the screened door bang open behind him, he jogged into the grassy yard where the four youngest Weasleys were playing a rather haphazard game of Quidditch.

As Harry came up to the playing area, Ron tossed an apple through an enchanted circle, obviously drawn into the air with a wand.

"Goal!" he shouted happily. "Harry, maybe I ought to try out for Chaser this year, eh?" Harry grinned in response, but quickly sent Ron a meaningful look. "I need to talk to you."

Ron appeared puzzled, but brought his Cleansweep Seven down to the ground just the same. After dismounting his broom, he followed Harry over just out of earshot of the others. There was little chance of being overheard, however: Fred and George were rather exuberantly using paddles to hit apples at gnomes darting between holes down in the garden, and Ginny was attempting to juggle three of the fruits they'd been using as Quaffles.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. But I've just found out something. Percy told it to me."

Ron did not yet appear much less confused than before. "Let's hear it."

A wide smile broke over Harry's face. "Kelsey Modello is coming to Hogwarts."

All too soon, it seemed, the morning of August 26th arrived, tinged with summer's-end bitterness. For Harry, it had been the best summer of his life, aside from attending the Quidditch World Cup the year before. And now, it was drawing steadily to a close.

After the heavy breakfast Harry was becoming accustomed to, Mrs. Weasley shooed all of the teenagers upstairs to get dressed.

"We'll be leaving soon, so don't dawdle."

A quarter-hour later, the Weasleys and Harry had congregated at the fireplace. Harry felt his stomach lurch rather suddenly. To his immense displeasure, the method of transportation was Floo powder, possibly his least favorite of all wizarding inventions.

When everyone was as ready as they would ever be, Mr. Weasley flung a bit of what looked like sparkling white ashes into the fireplace. Brilliant green flames sprang immediately from the hearth, their vivid emerald as ominous as ever, in Harry's opinion.

Mr. Weasley stepped into said flames, shouted, "Diagon Alley!", and vanished. Harry nervously stepped forth to do the same, preferring to get the experience done and over with as quickly as possible.

After the somewhat disagreeable spinning and whirling feeling of using Floo powder, Harry stopped safe and sound in Diagon Alley. Relief rippled warmly through him, and he stepped out of the hearth to find Mr. Weasley.

A few moments later, the rest of the Weasleys had arrived, all except for Percy, who had stayed at the Burrow to work on some very "confidential" Ministry work. Harry privately thought it to be codswallop, but wasn't about to complain that Percy hadn't come.

"Mum, after we go to Gringotts, Harry and I are gonna meet Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron." Ron informed his mother matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, tugging at the hem of her crocheted housedress. "I guess that means I'll be getting your schoolbooks together for you. Very well."

The cool, dim interior of Gringotts bank was not quite as pleasant to look at as its snowy white marble front. But just the sheer size of the place, not to mention the fact that it contained most of the wizarding money in the United Kingdom, gave Harry pause.

As he and Ron stood in line with the rest of the Weasleys, Harry looked around. In the line next to him, a woman in an overlarge feathered hat was searching frantically through her handbag for her key, while the surly goblin helping her could not easily have looked less amused.

Harry's eyes swept up to the Head Goblin's desk, up near the front of the room, and nearly fell out of their sockets. A rather petite girl with dark hair falling down her back was standing next to a very tall, very broad, very hairy man.

Harry nudged Ron, possibly a little too roughly. "Look up there, Ron."

Ron scowled and massaged his side where he'd been elbowed, and turned to glance up where Harry indicated. Instantly, his face went slack. "Who's that with Hagrid up there?"

Harry felt a grin play at his lips. "Who do you think?"