It was September first. Harry could barely believe it! He had set Mercurius free already, so he could fly ahead to Hogwarts, he had all of his things packed into his trunk, and he had triple checked his room, to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Uncle Vernon had begrudgingly agreed to drop Harry off at King's Cross train station, and Harry had his ticket clutched tightly in one hand, and his shrunken trunk in the other, as he waited by the front door for Uncle Vernon to eat his breakfast. He was going to Hogwarts today!

Uncle Vernon had made a big fuss about how he had no reason to go to London today, and how he did not see why he should do Harry the favor. Harry had offered to write to Professor Snape, to ask him for a lift, and suddenly, Uncle Vernon remembered an errand he'd been meaning to run, in London, and told him not to involve his professor, when Vernon could manage it. Harry had shrugged and agreed.

He had spent what felt like every second of the last month sitting on his toy broom, and studying. He had finished his research for potions, and had written the remaining questions he still had into the margins of his textbook. Surely Professor Snape could not get mad at him for that, since he had willingly shown Harry that he and Harry's mum had done the same thing at his age!

He had written to Professor Snape two to three times a week, to update the man on how the Dursleys were treating Harry, and how Harry's summer was going. Harry was surprised that Professor Snape had not lost interest in him, but the man replied to every letter that Harry sent, with his dry sarcasm, his insistence that Harry behave, and with little anecdotes about his days at Hogwarts with Harry's mum. Harry had saved every letter.

Harry had still not opened the letters from his parents or grandparents. They were safely packed into his trunk, but every time Harry had picked one up to open it, he would get sweaty and queasy, and had to put it away. He didn't understand what he was so afraid of, but something inside of him seemed certain that if he read words from his parents, meant directly for him, his entire world would shatter around him, and he might not be able to pick the pieces back up, by himself.

He did have the ring with the Potter insignia on it displayed prominently on the ring finger of his right hand, and his mum's old wand holster strapped to his forearm. He had spent a lot of time practicing the wrist movement he needed to eject the wand into his waiting hand, and it came pretty easily for him, now.

He had read his charms, transfigurations, and defence against the dark arts textbooks, and had begun the process of cataloguing every wand movement and spell word, like he had with potions, but he had trouble visualizing what the wand movements actually looked like, or how the spells were supposed to be pronounced, and was worried that he might memorize things wrong, and have to unlearn them, once a teacher showed him how to do it properly, before he could learn it all the right way. So, he'd read over each spell a couple of times to loosely match each spell name with the description of what they were supposed to do, and left it at that. One of the books Mr. Malfoy had suggested for him talked a lot about how focus, willpower, and intent were more important for casting spells, anyways.

Harry had tried meditating, but he was not entirely sure how to do that properly, either, and it was so boring that he ended up day dreaming about playing quidditch or playing games with Draco, more often than not.

Draco knew a lot of games, that he was going to teach Harry to play, once they reached Hogwarts. The boy had been true to his word, and had written every single day. He had asked Harry a lot of questions about how muggle world worked, and what Harry thought of muggles, in general. Harry had answered as best as he could, and asked Draco questions about the Wizarding World, in exchange. He had learned a lot.

Mr. Malfoy had also suggested that Harry get a subscription to the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, so that he could know what current events and big gossip the other kids might bring up on the train, but had warned Harry not to take everything the paper said at face value. The trick, he'd written, was to know the personal and political motivations of the people writing the articles, and the people being written about, and then to read between the lines. Harry didn't know anything about anyone else, yet, so he had asked Mr. Malfoy what he thought about the interesting sounding articles, and Mr. Malfoy had taken the time to explain things to Harry, that he never would have figured out on his own!

"Hurry up, boy; you're making late," Uncle Vernon said, shoving past Harry while brushing crumbs from his jacket.

Harry rolled his eyes, and followed his uncle to the car.

He knew he'd be back next summer, but it still felt like a march to freedom, as he watched the houses of Little Winging speed past his window. He was being liberated.

Idly kicking the back of the passenger seat, Harry willed himself to focus on his excitement, more than his nerves. He was going to get to see Draco, and Professor Snape, again! He was going to get to see Hogwarts castle in person. Hogwarts, A History had spoken of wonder after wonder, contained within those castle walls, and even with his new knowledge of magic, Harry was sure the book must be exaggerating. It all sounded way too wonderful and fantastical.

"Stop kicking a hole in the seat, boy," Uncle Vernon said, with an irritated scowl in the rear-view mirror.

Harry forced his legs to still, his restless energy immediately transferring to his fingers, instead, as he tapped the tune to one of Draco's favorite songs against his thigh. He wished there was space for him to sit on his broom, in the car!

What if no one else liked him? What if Professor Snape was wrong, and there'd been a mistake, after all? What if they expelled him, for being a freak?

He survived curses that should have killed him, he talked to snakes, he was friends with the Malfoys; what if people thought he was off?

Mr. Malfoy had warned him that some people had spread nasty rumors about the Malfoy family, after the war. The Malfoys were rich, and influential, and protective of the integrity of the Wizarding World, and some people did not like that.

Lots of people had been magicked into doing bad things against their will during the war, but some jealous people refused to admit that Mr. Malfoy had been one of those, and not a willing Death Eater, like his crazy sister-in-law.

Harry didn't think it was fair, to judge someone based on their family. Mr. Malfoy was nice, and honest, and hadn't even tried to hurt Harry, even before Professor Snape had shown back up to protect him, and Professor Snape had been a spy! Surely, if Mr. Malfoy were really evil, he would hate Professor Snape for tricking him and his Master, during the war, but they had seemed friendly in Diagon Alley.

Professor Snape had always been cool, right from the moment he had blasted open the door to that hut on the sea, but Harry had not realized that he had been that cool, until Mr. Malfoy had explained that Professor Snape had been a spy, and had helped to put the real Death Eaters in prison. He was a hero!

Uncle Vernon dropped Harry off at the train station, and sped away, without even saying good-bye.

Harry barely contained his urge to give the man a one-fingered salute, as he drove off. Piers had shown Dudley how to do one, last year, and even Dudley had not escaped punishment when Aunt Petunia had caught him gesturing at the post-man. Harry shuddered to think what the Dursleys would do to him, if he were caught doing the same.

The train station was crowded with people, as he made his way to place between platforms nine and ten. He stopped dead in his tracks, and gawped at the sight before him.

The Malfoys were standing there, looking like they had been cut out of a Christmas catalogue, with their matching muggle jumpers and slacks.

"Harry!" Mr. Malfoy called, "We thought we'd meet you on the muggle side, in case you had trouble getting onto the platform."

Harry ran over to the Malfoys, the decorum lessons he'd read about forgotten, and gave Draco a hug. "I missed you guys!"

"We missed you, too, Mr. Potter," Mr. Malfoy said, extending his hand.

Harry collected himself, and shook it, with a formal bow. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy, you look stunning."

"You are too kind, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Malfoy said, patting Harry's head, and running her hands self-consciously over her muggle attire. "Did we get the clothes right? It's been a while since we've had to pass in the muggle world."

"You look great! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were completely normal. I mean, er…"

"Thank-you, Harry," Mrs. Malfoy said with a laugh. "Are you excited for school? Our little monster hasn't been able to sit still for at least three days."

"I'm very excited! Nervous too, but not nearly so bad as I would have been if you three hadn't helped me prepare."

"I'm happy we could help. Draco made you something, didn't you, Draco?"

Draco nodded enthusiastically. "It's in my trunk; I'll have to show you when we get to school. Father helped me make it."

"I can't wait to see it!"

A cacophony of noise sounded, and all three Malfoys stiffened as a gaggle of redheads approached.

Harry looked at Mr. Malfoy's pinched expression, and frowned. Who could make Mr. Malfoy that upset? Mrs. Malfoy's face had gone hollow and blank, her nose tilted up, as if she was fighting the urge to turn on her heel and flee, and Draco had adopted an overly bored expression, like he was afraid to let his real feelings show. Whoever these redheads were, Harry didn't trust them.

A short, plump woman, with the same fiery red hair as the rest of them, stopped short, as she turned around from yelling at one of the four children following her. She glared at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, in a loud, shrill voice. "Why are you lot loitering about on the muggle side of the gate? If you're here to start something…"

Mr. Malfoy put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave a short, icy bow to the unfriendly woman. "Hello, Molly. Could Arthur not make it, today?"

The woman, Molly, grabbed the sleeve of one of a pair of identical twins when he tried to sneak away, pulling him roughly to her side. "You know very well that the ministry keeps turning, Malfoy. Just because your absence is rarely noted does not mean that everyone is equally superfluous."

Harry clenched his jaw. He did not know what superfluous meant, but he could tell that it was an insult to Mr. Malfoy.

The youngest looking redheaded boy, comically gangly with a ridiculous smattering of freckles, and a nose that was too long for his face, snickered loudly. Harry disliked him immediately.

"We are all very grateful for the many services your husband provides, I'm sure. How would society continue to function, if an epidemic of dancing teacups or flatulent doorhandles went left unchecked?"

It was Harry's turn to laugh, now, though he tried to hide it behind a polite cough.

"And who are you, dear?" the Molly woman asked, rounding on Harry. "You certainly don't look like a Malfoy."

Harry squared his shoulders. "They're my friends."

"You might want to reconsider that, child. The Malfoys are dark wizards and nasty people, the lot of them."

"I can be my own judge of character, thanks," Harry replied, coldly.

"Draco, darling, why don't you go ahead and show your friend how to access the platform," Mrs. Malfoy said, kindly. "There's no need for you boys to be drawn into all of this unpleasantness. Your father and I will come find you in a minute."

"Thanks, ma'am," Harry muttered, as he hurried past her to the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

She mussed his hair before he could duck out of the way, making Harry smile, as he quickly pulled it forward over his scar, and followed Draco.

"You just have to walk right at the barrier, all confident. It's easier to take a running start your first time, so you don't chicken out," Draco said, his bored mask melting as he focused his attention on Harry. "Want me to go first?"

Harry nodded.

Draco winked, then took off toward the barrier in a mad sprint, his arms opened wide. He was there one moment, and gone the next, with no sounds of a crash.

Taking a deep breath, Harry followed, running as fast as he could, and closing his eyes.

Hands grabbed him, and pulled him to a stop. "You made it!" Draco said with a laugh, making Harry blush.

"Who were those awful people?" Harry asked.

"They've got to be the Weasleys," Draco muttered, darkly. "They've been going after my family for years. You can always tell it's one of them, because of the hair. Their father is part of a faction at the ministry that keeps organizing surprise raids on our manor. They never find anything, but that doesn't stop them. They even raided my birthday, one year."

"Why are they like that?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "They're poor, and we're rich. Their dad works some thankless job at the ministry, and Father is friends with the Minister of Magic. There was some form of family feud between us a few generations back, but no one seems to remember what started it, not even the portraits. Plus, there's the whole rumor thing, about the war. I think they're just jealous."

"That makes sense. None of them are in Slytherin, are they?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure they all go Gryffindor."

"Good."

"You know, tactically speaking, you should have spent your time mastering a subject other than potions, since Professor Snape is famous for favoring Slytherins, anyways," Draco said, elbowing Harry playfully. "I hear McGonagall is really strict. You should have done transfiguration, if you were so desperate to be somebody's teacher's pet. Then you'd have two professors in your pocket."

Harry shrugged. "I like potions. And I like Professor Snape, too. He promised that he'd treat me fairly, so I want to prove myself, knowing that my name will have nothing to do with it. Plus, I haven't had much of a chance to actually watch people do magic. I didn't want to learn the wand movements all wrong, before watching the teachers do it."

"Teacher's Pet. If you abandon me for Ravenclaw, I'll never forgive you," Draco said, with a dramatic hand to his forehead, as if he might faint.

"Don't worry, I don't learn anything without an ulterior motive, I promise."