Hey guys! So I have great news! At school, we're now allowed to spend 20 minutes of our free time/ reading time every day to write a story! That means that I will be updating at least once every 2 weeks, or a week if I'm lucky. Sadly, next week I will be headed off to Canberra for a school trip/camp, so I won't be able to update. Thanks guys! Enjoy the story!

"Harry, it's not even past the first week of school yet! I can't believe you!" Hermione scolded him as he sighed in defeat.

"Uh… I'm sorry, it's just that with all the animagus drama, and my first lesson with Malfoy, I just need to relieve some stress, ok?"

"Yeah, Mione. Give him a break- besides, we're in 'Year Eight' now!" Ron said, popping open a bottle of firewhiskey and pouring generous amounts into two glasses he conjured. Holding his wand still, he pointed it at Hermione. "Want one?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not you too, Ron. We're supposed to set an example. We're Heads!" She drew her own wand and with a flick, removed all of their disguises. "So, how was the first lesson, Harry?" She asked.

Groaning, Harry took a big gulp of firewhiskey, relishing the warm burn it seared down his throat. "Not well. I don't really want to talk about it."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look of sympathy. After a second of silence, Hermione, who sat patiently in her chair waiting for a response from either boy, attempted to lighten the mood.

"At least we didn't receive too much homework, right?" Hermione had chosen to learn to become a potion mistress, and predictably, both Harry and Ron wanted to become Aurors. But with both boys in the 'Golden Trio', it was automatically assumed that they would get the job, regardless on how well they performed. Nonetheless, they still had to take potion classes, (much to their horror) as spiked food or drinks could be deadly when facing a bloodthirsty Death Eater.

They had not gotten too much to do. Apart from Snape of course, who assigned them to write a 3-foot-long piece (90 cm) about Dittany. Though they grudgingly admitted that it was a useful plant, being able to heal wounds, but it was hard to scrape together the information they were told and stretch it into such a long assignment. Hermione on the other hand was delighted. During the holidays many shops had put on discounts to celebrate the death of Voldemort, and it was a shopping spree for her. The place she spent most of her time was the bookshop. Obviously. And since so many new books were purchased, there was a large variety of information to be read. It proved no challenge to her even though she had bought over 30 books. Luckily for her and the boys, many books were about plants and since Dittany had saved lives and was common, most books dedicated at least one chapter to this plant. Therefore, Hermione knew plenty about Dittany and so the boys were counting on her. As usual.

After about an hour of catching up on the holidays with each other, Harry decided that he needed to go back to his rooms. Reluctantly, and slightly tipsy, he clumsily reapplied the glamours to hide his eyes and ears. Hopefully Malfoy wouldn't notice- otherwise his and his friends' secret Animagus forms would no longer be so secret. Even though he was often told that Voldemort had gone, and that there was no need to worry anymore, he still stayed alert. There was no knowing when another Dark Lord might rise no matter how unlikely it seemed. Besides, there were still many Death Eaters on the loose that were thirsty for his blood. There was still a chance of them sneaking into the castle. No matter how much Harry tried to deny it he had to admit that using the Vanishing cabinets to get in was a pretty smart idea. Malfoy, like the teachers, would have to be avoided as much as possible.

When Harry woke the lightly slumbering dragon and hissed the password, he prayed to the gods that Malfoy wasn't inside. Somewhere in his slightly hazy mind he still registered the fact that hastily applying spells while half drunk would not give the best results. Luck seemed to be on his side, though, because there was no sign of the blonde-haired Slytherin when he entered. Quickly slipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he changed into his pyjamas and went into his room. The day had been quite eventful with his surprising new features. Nobody had noticed thus far. Day one of seven: completed.

As he closed his eyes and turned the light off, he welcomed the darkness dragging him down into sleep.

"Is it ready yet?" A sharp, cold, all too familiar voice sliced through his dream. It seemed to be a dark, underground room of some sort. Torches hung on the walls, but it did not warm the room. Two people stood, one of them a tall woman and the other a frail-looking man. He was hunched over and he looked intimidated by being in the woman's presence. Judging by the powerful currents of magic rippling through the air, both of them were probably witch and wizard.

The woman wore an expensive silk gown, dark green with silver embroidery. A sweeping scarf wrapped around her slender neck. Her black hair was quite short and her jewellery matched the brooding colour. She was stroking the silver pendant of her necklace as she stared unblinkingly at the man.

"Uh… Not yet, madam." The man's voice shook nervously as his eyes darted around the room looking at anything but her. "It's not the time…"

The woman immediately turned. "I am getting rather impatient of the wait." Her eyes narrowed; she ran her finger through the silky scarf. The man shivered and shrunk back. He tried to avoid eye contact with the woman as much as possible.

"W- well, we will try our best, madam…" The woman whirled around. The light swept across her face, illuminating her face. She looked awfully familiar- too familiar…

"We will rise again. I can feel it."

"But th- the boy, madam-"

"We will get rid of him soon enough. I will take care of that." Her eye gleamed dangerously when she looked right at where he stood. A flash of recognition just as the same realization hit him…

Harry jolted up in his bed, cold sweat breaking out over him. It couldn't be real- he was sure that she had died! He had seen it with his own eyes, the way her body flew backwards, the thump when her body collapsed on the floor, the cut off scream still echoing in his ears.

He blamed it on the drinks he had last night when he rolled over and saw that the time was 1:00 in the morning. But he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her cold voice. This had happened before, and no matter how much he tried to suppress it he knew even through his burning headache that his scar was throbbing.

Why! Why on earth is this happening to me again!?

So I know this is a little shorter than my usual chapters, and for that I am sorry, but unlike other Fanfiction writers I have a really strict schedule (and 3 tutoring places) that give me loads of homework plus school. Even so, I'm determined to continue this story!

P.S: I'm now an Undertale fan.

IceMistywolf