I have made a few small edits to the last chapter which may accidentally give you some clues to what I'm planning.

I'm still an amateur, but I am going to try to set up mysteries that are solvable using rational thought, like the original.

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter: I am getting used to the whole 'writing' thing and have been struggling with making it sound right. I think this reflects the style and content of the original well enough but would love some feedback if anyone can give it.

The pen is mightier than the Rowling.

Chapter 2: A Normal Train Ride to Hogwarts

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was beginning to get rather crowded. She had been waiting for about half an hour as her father had always liked to arrive early for important dates. His stubbornness had eventually forced her out of her room, at which point she accepted defeat, and she was dragged to the platform. Seeing the Hogwarts Express, however, restored her spirit. The engine was gleaming in the September sun, bright fiery red and a distinguished green, newly polished steam poured off of it, as the enchanted boiler was warming up. She had stumbled over her words as she waved and hugged Father goodbye, pulling at her old trunk, and heaving it onto the train (with assistance from a helpful Hufflepuff). Wandering down the corridor she found that almost all the carriages were empty, so she chose one in about the middle of the train and that is where she was now. Looking out onto the platform with the crowds shuffling around. A few tears from new students and their parents, but most were filled with bustling excitement. With He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named gone, there couldn't be a note of bittersweetness. It was a new age, and no one dared ask when it would end.

Through the glass, five ginger headed students collectively dragged their luggage, half-robed and sweating. Most of the people on the platform now were adoring parents, and they were late. This was expected, of course. Being the Weasley's they were consistently late, to such an extent they had made sure to trace genealogy and check if any curse had been placed upon them. There was none. They just had bad time management, and usually paid for it. Ginny tailed Ron closely, not wanting to lose the only lifeline she had: it was Ron's duty after all considering Fred and George had looked after him, and Percy after them. As much as brothers can look after their siblings, she thought in disdain. They forced their way through the crowds of wizard-folk to the train and dumped their belongings and themselves on.

"Too…close." Percy panted, checking his watch. Still managing to be judging when out of breath.

Fred and George nodded in sync, and they all took a moment to catch their breaths in the corridor. The moment was unceremoniously broken,

"Well, as lovely as you all are…"

"We're off." the twins announced. Dusting off their robes they strode off down the carriage, followed by Percy but not before he had given his closing remarks, "Ron, look after Ginny. It's your job now, you're in your second year and it's time to take some responsibility. I will be in the prefect compartment."

Ron looked at Ginny. Ginny looked at Ron. The train jolted, and they began to move off. The sound of the wheels on the rails and the hoot of the horn signified them leaving the station. Ron sighed and Ginny followed him to find somewhere to sit.

"You *cannot* bloody sit with me, Gin."

"What? Why? You heard-"

"Are you really going to use Percy as a defence?"

"I was going to use Mum, I'll have you know, but that's not fair anyway: I don't know anyone else here."

"Isn't that kind of the point? To make new friends?"

"Oh, bloody hell."

He stopped when he spotted Dean Thomas in one of the compartments surrounded by a few other Gryffindors: "I did it (kind of), all you need to do is pick a compartment and sit in it."

And without another word, he slid open the door and turned away. Ron could be such a prick. She was sure if the same was said to him he'd complain about it for the next two days, so she concluded not to, and walked off to find a compartment.

She walked past people opening packs of cards and catching chocolate frogs, gossiping and giggling, giving her a look when they saw her red hair. Only one compartment was left.

The book in question Luna had chosen specifically, doubting even the Ravenclaw library had it (she was right, though there was a copy somewhere on the grounds). It was a muggle book, and paperback illustrated with a witch's hat and some small blue men. 'A Hat Full of Sky' was something that initially disappointed Luna who had expected a complete guide to Fulizza's Hat of West Wind. But as she read on she found the fiction book that was awfully…comfortable. It suited her like any one of her necklace charms. Ginny felt eyes lock on her dried mushroom chain and looked up to see the rather surprised face of a ginger girl. They shared a mutual pinned gaze.

The blonde girl waved at her, pointed to herself and said something aloud, but in a tone too soft to let the words pass through the door. Ginny couldn't lip read, so she opened the door and crossed the threshold.

"Pardon? Sorry, I couldn't hear you the first time."

"Would you like a necklace too? It's good practice while travelling to Scotland."

"Uh?"

"Because of course if you don't wablerers will follow you across borders, and that could disrupt the ecosystem and have terribly catastrophic…results." Luna nodded to herself, seemingly assuming the girl was interested but trailed off with the hint of a nervous tremor.

Cutting her short, "I actually- I was wondering if I could sit with you?"

Luna's face becomes as puzzled as the ginger girl's, "You- I will give you a toffee if you do!"

And with that, a pact was sealed, and Ginny firmly plonked her luggage above them and sat in the seat opposite Luna. Green fields whipped past as toffee was drawn from Luna's luggage, handed from one to another, unwrapped and chewed. Luna then reached into another pocket on her robes and drew out another toffee for herself.

"Wait, there's a pocket there!?"

Ginny tried to find it but Luna shook her head. "No, I sewed extra in. You always need more pockets."

That kind of practicality was not lost on a Weasley child, but it was unexpected to come from someone so very.

"My name is Luna Lovegood." she stuck out a hand, a little mechanically, "Like Lunabells."

The train turned into the sun which illuminated the girl's hair and eyes, giving them a silvery gleam. Luna was staring with an unmatched intensity that heavily contrasted her soft voice and seeming lack of confidence. Ginny took the offered hand, "Ginny. Ginny Weasley. You've probably heard of Fre-"

"Like Ron Weasley? He was one of the best fliers in Hermione's army last year. Do you think he'll join up again this year?"

The red-head felt constantly on the backfoot. Most people knew about Fred and George's exploits, but not so many cared about the youngest boy.

Luna didn't stop, "Oh! And you were in the Prophet! Rita Skeeter's last article, right?"

Ginny tried not to cringe as her face glowed a bright red. It was on the pinker side than her hair and extended right to her ears. She flinched a little but nodded dully. The entire thing made Luna stop talking and her stare became concerned, then averted her eyes.

"Sorry…I-

"What? No!" Ginny hopped up, her concern uncontained, waving her arms, "That's just not…" she fell back onto the green seats, "...a fond memory."

"Oh…Yes…I suppose it wouldn't be."

The silence was a little choking, and all Ginny could do was break it, "I- ah, It's alright-"

"Well, I know how that feels. Last year my father published a…headline and it said that Draco Malfoy was-"

"Married to the Dark Lord! Right?"

"...Oh. I forgot about that one. I was going to say 'pregnant'."

The tension had apparated with a pop, and Ginny couldn't help but laugh, and Luna smiled with her. Luna offered another toffee and Ginny quickly took it, with a grin.

"So can we be friends?"

"If you keep the toffee up." Ginny giggled and stuck her tongue out teasingly, "What are you reading anyway?"

Luna beamed and almost outshone the sun, "It's Terry Pratchett. He's a muggle but he has some awfully interesting ideas… A lot of what he thinks about witches is wrong, but these small blue people he calls the 'Nac Mac Feegle' seem to be a lot like Daogorm fairies, and-" She suddenly felt the girl's gaze and realised she had been talking too long again, "...but it's set in another world anyway…"

"What is the world like?"

Luna was phased. She was not used to being asked to continue after trailing off. Her face was frozen in a momentary shock, and thawed into a warm glow.

"...Well," she began.

Draco sat rather silently in a carriage full of Slytherins. Even now it was important to keep up appearances, but it was incredibly difficult to engage. His Mother hopefully would not be worrying as much about him as he was himself: it was important for him to spend some time away from her, but this seemed like too much. Perhaps he could ask McGonagall to set up regular visits.

It seemed entirely imbecilic to be making him go back so soon, and even more frustratingly this was one of the first times Wizard Law did not play into Draco's favour. He was required to be in some form of education, and could not buy tutors as all his finances were controlled by the Headmistress of Hogwarts, his legal guardian. His Mother, being both magically illiterate for the time being and presumed dead until recently, had been deemed an unsuitable guardian. It made his blood boil. There was solace in the rather curt letter he received from the Headmistress where she apologised for the events and for her inability to deal with the matter more urgently, but a promise to sort it out to the best of her ability as soon as they could talk properly. He still had the letter in his trunk. Until then she had suggested he and his mother spend some time together and he concerns himself with other things like his second-year studies (typical, for a teacher).

He supposed there was some benefit to being at Hogwarts, assuming he'd be able to see his Mother soon: he needed to talk to Harry. There was so much that didn't make any sense, and the only person who would understand that kind of nonsense was Harry. It practically followed him around! And he wouldn't mind feeling some noble power and wearing that cool hooded clo-

The thought was cut off, not by a blood-curdling scream, but a rush of cold. Instantly it wasn't London at the end of summer, it was the height of winter on a lonely northern-Atlantic rock, and he saw the other faces in the carriage look as pale as he felt. A sense of dread and colourlessness passed over him. He remembered his father's face, Hermione screaming 'alohomora', him dropping to the floor in the abandoned room, the news about his father-

And then it was gone.

"What…was that?" asked Goyle, but the words were overlooked. Draco looked down at their white faces, he was standing. His feet were already stumbling over his and others' legs to get to the door. It slid open without a thought, and he didn't bother to close it. Following the cold and greying colours slipping along the carriages. He pushed past the trolley witch, past two shocked looking ginger-headed boys (his brain didn't even think to identify them as the Weasley twins), and a shorter dark-skinned boy in a bright red coat. Chasing danger.

And it was at that moment he heard the scream of two girls echo throughout the suddenly silent Hogwarts train.

And he just kept running towards it.

The electric lights flickered off. Slamming aside the last sliding door he saw the two girls: first years, one blonde, one ginger, one held the other in a bone tight grip, huddled together on one seat of the compartment in the corner furthest away from the thing that stood almost hovering on its hind legs. It was almost an animal, but he could hardly see it.

He could feel a silvery light glowing at the tip of his wand and the first syllables forming on his tongue. He was too full of a burning cauldron mix of emotions: oddly rage, but also a desire to prove himself, to be a hero, and a strange fire he couldn't quite name… he only remembers it from one of his last meals at Hogwarts where he caught Hermione, saving her from being tripped.

Oh.

Hermione.

And suddenly the passion was gone. The cauldron tipped, and the bubbling golden mixture was knocked aside to wash down the drain. A cold wave of dread hit him in the stomach and he choked on his words, "Expec-" Staring now at the creature he couldn't take his eyes off of it: long, thin, like weeds, with long flowing blonde hair. The hair was matted but still fell in waves. Greying into a refined silver. The robes were black, dyed by the sun and worn into a dirty grey, but the mask that hung at his neck was the worst of all. A silver skull stained with black dried blood covered the thing's neck. Its skin was almost untouched but a horrible yellow of death. The eyes stared at him. Lucius Malfoy was stretched and horrific.

"Expecto-" he stumbled again, "Pat- no. Expec-Expec- Exp- Ex," He muttered and stumbled almost in madness, clawing at his last defence, when the light surged. And again he called, out with all his strength:

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The silver light flooded every corner of the compartment. The glowing mist twisted towards the dead thing, and it hissed and fell into itself becoming rags that fluttered away and out of the window with a hiss.

But his voice boomed in a way that felt odd. And his snake wasn't here. And his wand didn't glow. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and it became clear. His pride slumped from his shoulders, but he was glad strangely. It was a warm hand and signalled gently for him to move aside. He obliged.

Remus Lupin stepped quickly over to the two girls, the blonde one of which seemed to be shaking, almost shivering. He knelt down to them and spoke softly. His voice was too quiet for Draco to hear, even if he had, at that moment, had the state of mind to listen.

"You were lucky, your friend here was quick on the uptake. I'm afraid I didn't notice the chill until he ran past." The strange man was dressed shabbily, but it wasn't off-putting to either of the girls. "Embarrassingly, I was catching up on some sleep I missed."

Ginny nodded still breathing quite quickly, her knuckles now white as she held bunches of her robes tightly. Luna could barely eat the slab of chocolate she now had in her hands, as they shook. It was beginning to melt on her fingers. He looked between them concerned, and pulled out another massive slab of chocolate and unwrapped the foil, handing it to Ginny, "Make sure your friend eats her's, and share this." The certainty in his voice was comforting, and Ginny managed a smile which got a wiggle of his thin moustache in return, which almost got a giggle and some sign of recognition from Luna. The lantern he held was warm with a magical golden flame, energy which seemed to flow towards both of them. Ginny turned her head, and her usually whimsical friend seemed almost crumpled and grey, but the colour was returning. It was temporary. The lights flicked back on.

Standing and walking to Draco's sitting form, they saw his full height, and his old, modified robes, darned in several places. Not at all missing the obvious scars cutting across his pale face, marked with lines. He kneeled and handed Draco a piece of chocolate (this piece pulled from his over-packed suitcase), who seemed slightly more attentive now, but not stable enough to be confident enough to stand.

"Who are you? You look older than a prefect, obviously." Luna's very direct line of questioning gave Ginny hope.

"Oh! I completely forgot! My apologies, ladies," turning around, "And gents." Then sitting across from the girls keeping his suitcase firmly in his lap, "I am Remus Lupin. Or I suppose to you that would be Professor Lupin."

"Professor?!" Draco practically spat his chocolate across the corridor from where he sat next to the door. It was surprising to see someone so…shabby as a Hogwarts Professor. Even Quirrel at the end of his year had dressed well. Though to be fair, it would be strange if the man was anything else.

"Oh, of course! The Defence Against the Dark Arts position was open!" Luna smiled wide, which Ginny, having been watching her, reflected now much calmer. "So what was that thing exactly? And why did you give us chocolate? And why do you have those scars on your face? And-" Ginny gasped, her smile dropped awkwardly, for she knew the exact reason for those scars. Luna was dread stricken, and one could very much imagine the dementor was back, unaware of what she had said, but feeling she should be incredibly embarrassed.

Lupin simply chuckled at their reactions, "I promise it's fine…uh- I didn't catch your names?"

"Luna Lovegood!" she held out a toffee.

"Ginny Weasley." she smiled, thinking about how this was about what she expected from Hogwarts, but it happened quite faster than she was expecting.

"I am Draco Malfoy." he stood up, dusting off his robes with his hands and then whispering a small incantation to straighten them, "I'll- Goodbye. Thank you, Professor. I did try. Sorry." Embarrassed, scalding himself for the completely unthreatening first impression. This is going to be another confusing year. He tried to stride off, but only managed a walk.

The doors of the Headmistress'- Sorry. The temporary Headmistress' office burst open with a thunderous bang, and Moody immediately spun on his toes, wand pointed directly at the entrance. He immediately cast 3 specific detection spells that covered things not detected by his eye.

"Oh, it's just you, Potter-"

"DEMENTORS?! Dementors on the bloody SCHOOL TRAIN, Miner- I mean, Headmistress? If you pardon my French, have we all lost our bloody minds?"

"Now, Harry," she had prepared for this part since she received the news from Amelia Bones, and had attempted to keep the news from Harry for as long as possible, which amounted to about 20 minutes, "It was out of my hands-"

"Are we insane? How did this pass through the Wizengamot? On what level is this at all moral?" his searing icy voice made Minerva wince, and he immediately took a step back, the cold thawing in his blood. It did not, however, clear the stormcloud on his brow.

Minerva looked at the portrait of Dumbledore, above her desk, and then at the picture of a 'headmistress', she kept in her head. And then at herself. And prepared something to say, and then relaxed with a small sigh as Hermione stepped through the wide-open doors. (Also noticing Moody silently casting the same 3 detection spells.) She pushed the glasses up on her nose and looked expectantly at Hermione, who caught the look.

"Harry, I'm sure the headmistress did everything she could, but," she turned to face the woman at the desk, who certainly at this moment did not feel like a Headmistress, "I have to agree with Harry. Those things shouldn't be allowed around children."

"Miss Granger, I completely understand the concern, but it truly was out of my hands." She sighed and laid her hands down on the desk, "The most I could do was act as an advisor, and Director Bones promised she did all she could, but the Minister was simply insistent… I'm afraid Bellatrix Lestrange is simply considered too dangerous to be left roaming free."

"It's unlikely she is even in this country! I know she was crazy, but no one is that stupid." Harry interjected quickly, now taking a seat. Harry had thought about it over and over and though it was a genuine possibility the measures they had taken looking for seemed simply unnecessary. The wounds in the world were predictably dangerous: people expected to be threatened by them and so were. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't reveal almost any of that. He had recommended multiple times that Moody could lead a small team of Aurors to make a list of Voldemort's possible 'haunts', as Mad-eye put it, and ward them with alarms, set up some apparition points or a few portkeys so they could arrive quickly when the alarms were set off. "This is worse than doing nothing. Please at least tell me they are not allowed on school property."

McGonagall paused.

Harry flew up, "You've got to be kidding me! This is insane."

It was sickening enough that there were people still in Azkaban, but to allow Death around schools. Perhaps if it was written by Terry Pratchet they'd all be given swords and promised they would 'LEARN A VALUABLE LESSON.' But these things were essential trauma-inducing…thankfully the school already was used to Snape, so they should at least be somewhat prepared.

Hermione grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, "Do we at least have Aurors on-site?" Over the summer, Hermione had demanded a full explanation of the events of the year, and to be caught up on events that happened while she was…unavailable, from Harry and he happily obliged to give her all the less sensitive information. The rest would wait until she was a competent occlumens. After all her time fighting bullies she felt that the previous year's Auxiliary Protective Force was a rather sensible idea, along with many of the other Educational Decrees.

"Of course, Alastor is on hand, in his free hours." Alastor's ears pricked up at his name and he nodded to the two children. "I have requested it from Director Bones. Unfortunately, she is swamped in even more paperwork than I. The aftermath of last year has kept us quite busy, especially as I have had to invent several new safety forms for several new breaches of safety." She eyed Harry, who smiled wryly, while Hermione pulled a face of embarrassment.

"Speaking of breaches of safety, is Hogwarts going to have its evil potion master, and mysterious Dark Arts teacher?" Moody chuckled at Harry's words.

"For a while, we were lacking, Mr Potter, but thankfully before the minister assigned one we were able to talk to Mr Remus Lupin," Harry smiled, the man was very likeable, "And as a replacement for Snape we have asked Mr Horace Slughorn to return for a year until we can find a replacement."

"Return?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

After a second of squinting in concentration, Hermione recalled: "Horace Eugene Flaccus Slughorn (Born 28 April 1892) attended Hogwarts School fo Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was sorted into house Slytherin. He returned to the school in 1931 to serve as Potions master and eventually Head of Slytherin House. After 50 years of service, he resigned and entered retirement. From a Complete and Comprehensive Guide to Modern Hogwarts by Jean Burbage." She shrugged at Harry's predictable gape.

"When did you-?"

"I read before bed to get to sleep, it doesn't matter."

Minerva McGonagall had come to expect their squabbling and took the moment to clean her reading glasses, "Is that all? I wouldn't want to keep you from your revision."

Hermione nodded, content to get back to reading, but Harry took the moment, "Well, I do think we should at some point discuss security," Harry looked at Moody as the grizzled Auror's ears picked up at the mention of one of his favourite words, "But that can be done later. If you'd give me a second to check there's nothing else that needs doing right now…" He held up a finger. Was there anything that he should be doing at this current moment? Was there a ring on a finger or passage from a book that applied to this exact time? Anything he would regret saying or not saying? It was his responsibility to wrack his mind with the question. Security, as he had said, could be dealt with officially later (though he had already written up plans in his spare time), but how much dangerous magic had McGonagal covered? He didn't want to reveal anything in case it was necessary later, but he had to know what exactly was prohibited and what else she was planning to do now she could. Oh, and that didn't begin to cover the sort of resources he needed to ask for. What was it again? The maps, the books, and the rest. Hermione tugged gently on his sleeve, and whispered, "You've got that look in your eye, again." He was back in the room. Grounded.

He blushed deeply, "No. Thank you, Headmistress." and curtly marched out of the room into the elevator. The way it moved never stopped being that strange.

"Harry! Stop rushing off!" Her robes were cleaner than his, unmarked by meals or ink. He stopped allowing her to catch up.

"It's lunchtime, and I'm hungry"

"Then stop bothering Headmistress McGonagall! How much did you really expect to be able to do right there? And you have your exams to finish anyway!"

"If you don't try then you may miss an opportunity," he grumbled, as they began walking to the hall.

"Not every opportunity comes at an opportune time, Harry."

"What's that from?"

"My mother." smiling smugly.

Harry put it aside, partly accepting what she said. He was hungry enough to forget about it anyway. Writing all those essays for his O.W.L.s had given him an appetite. They sat down as the food appeared, it always felt strange to be eating together, alone in such a large empty room. It was undecorated and the ceiling depicted a suitably grey overcast sky. Hermione is right; listen to your friend. said the Hufflepuff in him. But she doesn't know everything, does she? Slytherin responded You haven't told her about the prophecies or the unbreakable promise or anything truly important. Ravenclaw seconded this: She's grounded, yes, but would she stay that way if provided new information.

He wasn't completely sure how much of his fondness for Hermione came from a natural likeability and working with her over the summer, compared to either her magical aura or the unbreakable vow he had taken. Nevertheless, it was a convincing argument. He would need to tell Hermione preferably sooner, as she was meant to be his guide and advisor. His Pattern Recognising Unit kicked into gear:

ATTENTION: PATTERN DETECTED
Category: FANTASY
Archetype: MYSTERIOUS OLD WIZARD
Pattern Suggested: Withold difficult information for as long as possible forcing Hermione to either figure it out herself or require it from you at the precipice of danger.

So the logical thing to do was the opposite of that. That's fallacious, but telling her soon achieves other goals and it checks the aim of avoiding patterns, so stick to that. Ravenclaw was sure to input.

It was a strange problem to have that ended up being almost paradoxical: he had to take every moment to think about what was necessary to avoid the end of the world. Or the people, he supposes. The end of the world might be inevitable. But taking every moment like that may cause him to miss an opportunity that would have prevented the end of the wo- people. It was frustrating to have his internal logic unit turn back on itself and call itself inconsistent. The terms of the unbreakable vow had seemed to be airtight: it had even accounted for the vow itself causing the end of the world by allowing Harry to choose the path of lesser destruction, but what if Harry was too busy thinking to be able to choose.

He looked at Hermione, "What would you do if you couldn't trust your own judgment?"

"You don't just judge things, Harry: you make observations based on data."

"What if you're observing wrong?"

"That's why you use the scientific method. You know this. Are you trying to get me to learn something via the Socratic method again?" Her head tilted stopping just before taking a bite of her salmon.

"Not intentionally…"

Looking at the sad piece of sausage he was holding in front of his face, his ears went slightly red. It had been there so long it was quite cold by the time he put it in his mouth.

"How do I know I'm doing the right thing right now? What do you do if you look back and see you should have been doing things differently from the start?"

"Well, you can't change it."

"That's a little cliche."

"Because it's true. You have to learn from it and use it as evidence in future decision making. Understand your own bias. Weirdly enough one wizard, B.C. Plummets, writes that to know the object you wish to transfigure is not enough: you must also know your understanding of the object."

He thought of his own transfiguration work: forming a small steel patch on glass or even creating the line of spider's silk across the horizon. When first doing it he didn't just have to imagine the steel patch, but he had to understand how he was thinking: the thinking behind how he grasped the universe, past even the quantum level. He hadn't been just imagining the steel patch, but he was thinking about why he could think that.

Perhaps to understand the right path he could use the vow itself, by not just thinking around it but by thinking about and of it. He needed to be able to test it, but how could he? It had such extreme circumstances that it would be practically possible to be able to work out whether the vow affected his thinking entirely or acted as a separate compulsion that could overpower him if necessary. It was at least a starting point.

It was at that moment he noticed Hermione watching him. Their eyes met, "Hermione?"

"Harry."

"Why are you looking-"

"Why were you asking me…all that?"

"That is a big question." he smiled.

"I'm expecting a big answer." strangely she reflected his coyness.

"Is 'how is Wizard's chess different from normal chess, and could magic improve the game' a good enough answer."

"You tried that one yesterday, at breakfast."

"Damn." his bright grin only got wider, "I think I need to practice occulmency more often."

"I think you practice eating your lunch." she pulled up a book from under the table and began to read from the massive tome entitled '4th Year Transfiguration'. "Oh, and don't think that just because you know occulmency doesn't mean I can't tell what kind of thing you're thinking about."

That one did stump him.