A/N: If you didn't check earlier in the week, there was a bonus chapter on Monday, to celebrate the (U.S.) holiday. Also, I'm anxious to get a bit farther into the story.

The week following the World Cup was, surprisingly, boring. Although the Daily Prophet published several articles full of rampant speculation, there was no actual news to be had of the Death Eater riot. No muggles had been permanently harmed. No the Death Eaters had been caught. Even the caster of the Dark Mark was still at large. In fact, it appeared that the casting of the Dark Mark had ended the riot—once the Mark was in the air, the rioters immediately dispersed. Eventually, Harry gave up looking for news; if something interesting happened, he'd be sure to hear it from Mr. Malfoy.

Harry's examinations for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were quickly approaching. With so little time left in the summer, Harry shifted his focus from quidditch to revising. Each day, he spent a significant portion of time in the Malfoy's library. In the afternoon he would take a break, usually to play quidditch or chess or Exploding Snap with Draco, and then to eat dinner. After dinner was finished, however, Harry would close himself in the library and resume his revisions.

The day before Harry's examinations were set to arrive in the post, Draco spent half the morning trying to persuade Harry to take a break to play quidditch. "If you study right until your exam, you'll go crazy," Draco said. "Just come out for an hour or so."

"I have to make sure I pass," Harry said. "If I don't, I'll have to work twice as hard to catch up and transfer next summer. It'll be the worst."

"Fine, fine. I'm going to go practice catching a snitch. When I beat you for seeker this year, you'll look back on today and know that you made the wrong choice."

Harry laughed and waved. As Draco reached the door, he bumped into his father. As Mr. Malfoy walked over to Harry's table and sat, Draco gave a long look over his shoulder before slowly leaving the library.

"Harry? Can you spare a moment to speak with me?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

"Of course." Harry put down his quill and pushed his book aside.

"You've been studying rather diligently this summer. I was wondering if you had a particular reason?"

"I'm transferring a couple of classes, and I don't want to be behind the rest of my year in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Are you being treated fairly at Hogwarts, Harry?" Mr. Malfoy had a look of concern on his face—it was an unfamiliar expression.

"Er… yes? Mostly." Harry was thinking that Snape seemed to prefer the Slytherins rather blatantly, but that wasn't anything to complain about.

"Who isn't treating you fairly, Harry? If it was Minerva McGonagall or that half-breed Lupin, I can have a word with the trustees. Nobody should hold your house against you."

"No, it isn't that at all." Harry shook his head and smiled. Lupin had been nothing but kind last year, and McGonagall was fair, almost to a fault. "I've dropped Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. It doesn't have anything to do with being treated poorly; I just wanted to pay more attention to spellcrafting."

Mr. Malfoy nodded. "Ambitious. I certainly approve. I have always thought that Divination and Care of Magical Creatures were rather… soft options. Moreso now that Care of Magical Creatures is being taught by that oaf, Hagrid." Mr. Malfoy shook his head. "I wish that Draco had the foresight that you do, Harry."

There was a thump in the hallway. Harry glanced up toward the door, but saw nothing.

"Divination and Care of Magical Creatures are great," Harry said. "They're just not for me. Professor Trelawney spent most of last year predicting my death, and I've had enough of that for one lifetime. And if I'm going to take one spellcrafting class, why not take both?"

Mr. Malfoy stood. "Don't be so modest, Harry. Your talent would be wasted if you continued in Divination and Care of Magical Creatures." Mr. Malfoy reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll go far in the world, Harry. I'm proud of you."

Harry flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"I'll leave you to your studying. Good luck on your examinations. Dinner will be at seven."

"Thanks."

As Mr. Malfoy stood, there was another mysterious thump in the hallway. Harry looked for a second, but there was nothing to be seen. He turned back to his books, wishing that he had time to go flying with Draco.

After a few minutes of studying, Harry heard music. It was the soft sound of the Malfoy's piano. The song was slow and low, and the occasional high notes seemed lonely and isolated in the otherwise gloomy song. Harry had never known Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy to play the piano, though. He had only ever heard Draco playing.

Harry glanced out the window. Draco, despite what he said earlier, was not flying on the quidditch pitch.

Harry resolved that, after he was finished revising, he would ask Draco why he had changed his mind about flying. But by the time dinner came, Harry had forgotten altogether.

Dinner was an unusually quiet affair. Harry was preoccupied with thoughts of the next day's examinations, and Draco was in a bad mood. Narcissa and Lucius carried on a quiet conversation related to Lucius's work, but there was little to say; Lucius was apparently working on a secret project for the Hogwarts Board of Governors that involved acting as a liaison with Durmstrang, a magic school from Eastern Europe.

Although he was only half-listening to the conversation, Harry's interest had been piqued. He hadn't known of any magic schools other than Hogwarts. Of course, they had to exist—wizards were born all over the world, and not everybody could be educated in England. But Harry had never been able to attach a name or location to another school.

"What's Durmstrang like?" Harry asked during a lull in the conversation.

"It's highly selective, and highly competitive," Lucius said. "The students are in constant competition with one another; the weak are whittled away, while the strong are forged into some of the most powerful wizards on the continent. And unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang does not shortchange any branch of magic." Lucius looked at Draco. "Narcissa and I briefly considered sending Draco to Durmstrang, actually."

Draco did not acknowledge that his name had been mentioned, and continued to eat quietly.

"I couldn't bear to have our son so far away," said Narcissa. "Even though Hogwarts is a boarding school, we can visit occasionally, and Draco can come home for holidays."

"You both went to Hogwarts, though, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but that was before Dumbledore was headmaster," Lucius said. "Since the school has entered Dumbledore's stewardship, I must say that standards have fallen."

"Mmm." Harry made a non-committal noise and took a drink of his pumpkin juice. The enmity between Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy was no secret, but Harry didn't share in Lucius Malfoy's opinion. Harry rather liked Dumbledore, even if the old man was constantly asking Harry to lie to his best friends.

"Luckily, Hogwarts will have an opportunity to restore its former prestige this winter," Mr. Malfoy was saying.

"How is that, father?" Draco had finally taken interest.

"For the first time in many years, Hogwarts will be placed in direct competition with Durmstrang Academy and Beaxbatons Institute. I'm not able to say more." Mr. Malfoy smiled at Harry and Draco. "Suffice it to say that you will have an exciting year at school."

Later that night, as they lay in their beds, Harry began to speculate about the possibilities of the competition among the schools. Although Draco was initially reluctant, he slowly joined Harry in the rampant guessing. Harry was in favor of a series of all-star quidditch matches, while Draco was leaning toward a dueling tournament. Eventually, it was Harry who had to beg out of the conversation; his exams would start in the morning and last until dinner, and he had to get some sleep if he wanted to pass.

*!*!*

Harry hauled his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express, giving a quick wave to Mrs. Malfoy before he stepped through the door. Draco was a few steps ahead, already looking for a compartment.

Harry's exams had gone rather easily, which worried him. He had completed both examinations quickly and hadn't found any of the questions to be overly difficult. In the days following the examinations, Harry had convinced himself that the examinations were much more difficult than they appeared, and that their apparent ease was caused by Harry's dramatic lack of knowledge on the subject. Harry was certain that his knowledge was so limited that he didn't even realize how little he knew. Worst of all, Harry wouldn't know the results of the exams until he arrived at Hogwarts and was issued his new schedule.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself, Harry and Draco constantly took to the quidditch pitch in the last few days before the start of the term. They hardly came into the manor, except for meals. Harry planned to be in mid-season form at the start of the year, and Draco was doing his best to keep pace; after last year's grounding from the quidditch team, Harry wasn't taking any chances about tryouts. Moreover, if some sort of inter-scholastic quidditch tournament were taking place, Harry planned on making the team.

As Harry and Draco moved down the train, they glanced into the compartments, looking for a place to sit. Harry waved as he passed a compartment with Hermione and Ron and Ginny. The girls waved back, and Ron gave a brief nod in greeting.

Harry bumped into Draco's back. Harry turned and saw that his friend had been stopped by Adrian Pucey.

"Hey Pucey, how was your summer?" Harry asked.

"Shut up, Potter. Which of you is it?"

Draco turned back and glanced at Harry. Harry shrugged; he had no idea what Pucey was talking about.

"Who's what?" Draco asked.

"Which of you is captain?" Pucey snapped.

"Quidditch captain? You are," Harry said to Pucey. "I mean, it's not Derrick or Bole, is it?" Harry laughed.
"No, and it's not me either," Pucey said. "Which of you got the badge?"

"We didn't," Harry said.

"Oh, I get it," said Pucey. "You want to have a big dramatic revelation in front of the whole house. Get all the attention out of it." Pucey pointed a finger in Harry's face. "That's complete rubbish, and you know it."

"Come off it, Pucey. It isn't us." Draco pushed Pucey's hand away from Harry. "Snape gave you the list of first year fliers last spring, just like he always gave one to Flint. If anyone's captain, it's you."

"Then you tell me why I didn't get the badge this summer," Pucey said, turning on Draco. "Maybe Daddy bought you a captaincy this summer, just like he bought you a spot on the team?"

"I deserve to be on this team, and everybody knows it," Draco said quietly, voice full of anger.

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Pucey said. "You'll never really know, because you'll always be flying Daddy's broom."

Draco snarled and pushed Pucey in the chest. The older boy staggered backwards, briefly losing his balance. As soon as Pucey regained his footing, he darted forward and grabbed Draco by the cloak, pushing the blonde boy against the corridor wall.

"Pucey, let him go," Harry said under his breath. "Everybody is watching."

Pucey looked around. All foot traffic had stopped to watch the fight, and several heads had poked out of compartments to see what was causing the commotion.

"Don't make me hex you," Harry said, still speaking softly. "Snape will kill us both for bickering in front of a bunch of Hufflepuffs. But I'll do it if I have to."

Pucey let go of Draco's cloak. "Bugger off, Potter." Pucey grabbed his trunk and stormed away.

Draco smoothed his cloak, trying to regain his composure. As the other students realized that no fistfight was going to erupt, they stopped gawking and returned to their business.

"Pucey's a prat," Draco said. "What did he want to hear?"

"I dunno," Harry said. But something was tickling Harry's curiosity. Harry turned and began walking back the way he had come.

"Hey, where are you going?" Draco asked. "Those compartments are all taken."

"I have to check on something," Harry said. "I'll come find you in a few minutes."

Draco shrugged, and continued down the train. It only took Harry a few steps to return to Hermione and Ron's compartment. He knocked on the door, and Hermione waved for him to come inside. Hermione and Ron were sitting on one side of the compartment, and Ginny was sitting on the other. A large trunk sat on the bench next to Ginny, between her and the window.

"Hi, Harry! How are you?" Hermione asked.

"Good," Harry said. "You doing okay after the World Cup?"

Hermione nodded. "It was scary while it was happening, but I'm trying not to let it bother me."

"Crouch is an arse," Ron grumbled. Ginny burst out laughing.

"Ronald!" Hermione hit Ron on the back of the arm. "That's crude."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong," Ron said.

A small voice spoke from beside Ginny. "Please don't say things like that about Master Crouch."

Hermione turned and looked across the compartment. "He treated you horribly. You don't owe him anything." Hermione appeared to be talking to the empty air next to Ginny's trunk.

"Master Crouch was a good master. Winky was a bad elf."

Harry leaned forward. On the other side of the trunk sat a familiar looking house elf, so small that Harry hadn't been able to see her over Ginny's luggage. A small winter hat was balanced atop the elf's head, resting above the elf's bat-like ears. The tips of the ears drooped sadly.

"Is that Crouch's elf?" Harry asked.

"Used to be," Ron said. "We're taking her to Hogwarts."

"Dad got her a job with Dumbledore," Ginny said. "Crouch was so mad at the World Cup that he gave Winky a hat."

"Wait. What?" Harry was utterly confused.

"If you give clothing to a house elf, they are released from service," Hermione said. "For some reason, most elves want to be enslaved. They consider the giving of clothes to be the ultimate punishment." Hermione frowned. "It leaves me utterly baffled."

The sound of soft crying rose from beyond the trunk. "Winky didn't want to be a bad elf…"

"It'll be okay, Winky," Ginny said. "You'll get to help lots of people at Hogwarts."

"Are they good wizards?" Winky asked.

"Some of the best," Ginny said. Harry caught Ginny's eye, and the redheaded girl gave him a sad smile. "She's been taking it really hard," Ginny said.

The elf stood quickly, her head popping up over the trunk. "But Miss Weasley is so nice to Winky, even though Winky is a bad elf. Would Miss Weasley like anything when Winky gets to Hogwarts?"

"Um, I do like hot chocolate before bed…"

"Winky will get Miss Weasley hot chocolate before bed!" The house elf smiled, and tears pooled up in her large eyes. "Winky is so happy!" The elf plopped down in the seat and began to cry in loud and dramatic sobs.

"You shouldn't take advantage," Hermione said to Ginny.

"But it makes her happy!" Ginny protested.

Hermione made a harrumphing noise and crossed her arms. "Doesn't make it right."

"Now you sound like Ron," Ginny said. Hermione harrumphed again and looked out the window. Ginny grinned at the older girl's discomfort, then turned back to Harry. "Are you riding to Hogwarts with us?"

Harry started, startled by her question. "Oh, no." Ginny's smile dropped just the tiniest bit at the corner of her mouth. "Sorry," Harry said. "I just had to ask Ron something. Wood graduated last year, right? Who's Gryffindor's quidditch captain this year?"

"Er… Angelina, I guess?" Ron shrugged. "She's older than Katie and Alicia."

"But nobody has said anything?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope."

"Thanks." Harry turned to leave, but then glanced back toward Ginny's trunk, where Winky's violent sobs had dissolved into quiet crying. "Winky, I happen to know that the Headmaster is partial to lemon drops. Myself, I enjoy the occasional peppermint. At your convenience."

The sobs began anew. "Harry *sob* Potter *sob* is so nice *sob* to Winky!"

Hermione turned and glared at Harry. "Now you've really done it."

"I think he's being nice," Ginny said, jumping to Harry's defense.

"He's not the one who has to deal with a crying elf for the whole trip!" Ron said.

Harry ducked out of the compartment while the Gryffindors were distracted. Ron was right—the elf's crying was an awful sound.

Harry started walking toward the end of the train. In one compartment he found Tracey and Daphne, sitting with Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott. Harry said hello to his classmates, then continued down the corridor, looking for Draco. Harry found his friend in a compartment with Pansy near the end of the train. Like Harry and Draco, Pansy hadn't yet put on her robes, so she was still dressed in her jeans and a simple shirt.

As soon as Harry opened the door, Pansy was out of her seat and hugging Harry. She wasn't shy about it, either; this wasn't a "lean forward and touch shoulders" hug, this was a complete embrace. Harry hugged back with the arm that wasn't pulling his trunk.

As Harry hugged Pansy, he noticed that the dark-haired girl had changed quite a bit over the summer. She still had the same upturned nose, and her black hair was still cut short in its familiar bob, but the rest of Pansy had become quite a bit more… curvy. There was something about the way her jeans fit that Harry couldn't quite describe, but it was rather appealing. And as for Pansy's shirt, well, the changes there were much more noticeable.

Harry suddenly realized that he had been hugging Pansy for several seconds too long. Harry stepped back from the hug quickly. Harry had noticed Pansy's changes, but Harry hoped that Pansy hadn't noticed that Harry had noticed. If she did, then Harry hoped that he wouldn't notice that Pansy had noticed that he had noticed. And he certainly hoped that Draco hadn't noticed him noticing Pansy.

If anybody had noticed anything, everything would get all awkward.

Harry glanced over at Draco. Draco arched an eyebrow and smirked. Draco, clearly, had noticed. Harry felt himself begin to blush as Pansy started to speak.

"Harry! Did you see the riot at the World Cup? Draco refuses to tell me a thing!" If Pansy was thinking about the World Cup, then maybe Pansy hadn't noticed all the noticing. Maybe.

Probably not.

"Nothing happened, Pansy," Draco said. "We ran and hid in the woods, big deal."

Pansy looked at Harry and pouted, sticking out her lower lip slightly. "See. He won't tell me anything." Her lips seemed very red against her pale skin.

Harry knew that Draco was trying to play it cool. If a riot at the World Cup wasn't a big deal to Draco, then Draco had to be a big deal himself. Eventually, he would cave and tell Pansy what happened, constantly emphasizing that he was above it all. It was clever, and extremely effective… unless somebody else stole your thunder.

"You mean that he won't tell you about how we were directly under the Dark Mark?" Harry asked. "How we were attacked by Ministry Aurors and Hit-Wizards? How we were accused of casting illegal curses? How I saved us all from being arrested by Barty Crouch?" Across the compartment, Draco narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. Harry ignored him; Draco deserved this for smirking at Harry.

"Really, Harry?!" Pansy gasped and touched her hand to her collarbone. The gesture drew Harry's eyes to her hand, then slightly lower… Harry blushed and glanced looked away. "Tell me everything."

"At least let me sit down," Harry said with a grin. "I won't hold back, I promise."

Pansy stepped back into the compartment and sat down on the bench across from Draco. Harry stowed his trunk away, then took the empty seat next to Pansy.

Pansy immediately put her hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, if you don't start talking right now, I'm going to start hexing you."

"Okay, okay." Harry patted Pansy's hand, and left his fingers there just a little too long before he pulled away. Draco glared at him, and Harry sent back a little smirk of his own. Take that, Draco.

As Harry began to regale Pansy with stories of the World Cup, he felt himself begin to relax. He was going to Hogwarts. He could cast spells. He was among friends, and he was a wizard, once again.

It was going to be a good year. The best so far. Harry could feel it in his bones.