Hello and welcome my dear readers, Naintarlow here.

Okay gotta be honest with you, I didn't expect so many people to read and follow this story. At all. So I was honestly blown away from that. I only hope you guys stick around for the rest and you will also like it.

This is a much slower chapter, meant for a more proper introduction of Harry and his story. Still, worry not because as with devil may cry, demons are never far to make someone's day worse. That will be the next chapter.

I want to send a shout out to the awesome TwistedFilms, who continued to look over and edit the flaming trash that is my half-hungarian, half-english writing. Without him, it would look a lot worse, I assure you.

WIth that over, enjoy the story and feel free to share your thoughts or impressions on it.

Chapter 2: Just an ordinary day in the life of Harry Potter

The Hogwarts Express

'A 4-6-0 Hall Class steam locomotive model number GWR 5900. It is quite impressive.'

At least, that's what the conductor had told him, smiling with gentle amusement when asked about it, just prior to the start of Harry's first ride.

It looked truly breathtaking up close. Harry had witnessed a great many things that would shock, awe, or simply terrify people, an occupational hazard of his work, but seeing the Express for the first time was something else. There was something innocent, and uplifting, about the bright red engine, that would lead him to the start of a whole new adventure in a magical world that he had only just learned of.

There was also a faint hope in his heart that there would be fewer monsters out for his blood there, or at least that they would be a bit more subtle about their apparent hate boner for him, so that he could pretend to have a somewhat ordinary life in a school of magic. Suffice it to say, though, that following the trend of his luck, those tentative hopes were little more than dreams.

Once is happenstance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is enemy action. He really wasn't holding his breath for this year. To tell the truth, after all this time, his almost nonstop hunts through Britain and occasionally toward the greater continent made him look forward to it, at least a little.

Now that he thought about it, there was a rather big nest of giant spiders in the forest next to the school. They had looked rather overpopulated the last time he'd met them. Might be worth checking out, this time without Ron slowing him down.

A sharp whistle rang in the air, shaking him out of his thoughts as he heard the telltale sounds of the Express starting to take off. The only problem was that he was still on the platform, a bit of a way away from the train that slowly started moving. And of course, there was a literal army of parents between him and his ticket to school.

Just his luck, because why couldn't he start the year by getting on the train calmly and on time? Last year, he was blocked from the portal by a house elf of all things, and the year before that, he almost missed it because Trish wanted to bring him out to King's Cross herself and they got lost in the traffic and then he couldn't find the magical platform thanks to the lack of instruction.

At this point, the only thing left to wonder about was if his bad luck was genetic, from the Potter side of the family, or simply obtained through association with the relative of a certain Legendary Devil Hunter who had rather rotten luck himself.

The sharp whistle sounded again, and he forced himself to stop going off on tangents in his mind and get a move on. Already he could see the Express start to move. Thankfully, the old steam engine, even with the aid of magic, was rather slow to warm up.

There was still a sizable crowd between him and the train, and he doubted they would part for him like the Red Sea in time to reach it, even if he was the fabled Boy-Who-Lived. That meant it was time for more unconventional methods.

And he was a master of unconventional methods.

With a sudden show of strength that would catch even most wizards off-guard, he suddenly picked up his trunk and placed it on his back, his other hand making sure Hedwig's cage was secured on top of the trunk. The snowy owl glared at him harshly, likely knowing what he was planning. He could only grin at her, apologizing in his head before taking off in a mad sprint.

"Coming through!" he cried out, causing nearby people to look at him in surprise, recognition, and most importantly shock as they noticed him running towards them at high speed.

Just as he reached the densest part of the group, so close that he could have sworn he saw his face reflected in the fearful eyes he was about to crash into, he suddenly changed direction and jumped above the heads of the people who could only look on in astonishment, using a convenient pillar to push himself forward a little more to make it through.

He couldn't help but grin from the slight jolt of adrenaline coursing through him as he ended up on the other side, stopping for just a moment to regain his balance, before charging forward, the red train just within hand's reach.

That is, before it picked up speed, the engine finally warmed up and ready to make proper headway.

"Shit," he cursed as he came to a sudden stop in front of the now-empty railway. "That's just my luck," he grumbled as he suddenly twisted around and launched himself forward once again like a speeding bullet, this time toward the retreating back of the train.

Many people still lingered in his path, making life all the more difficult. While many noticed the commotion and wisely moved out of the way as they saw him charging, some were apparently too slow or too arrogant to even think of stepping to the side.

And unlike before, there were no convenient pillars in his way to use as stepping stones this time. Well, there were other stepping stones available, but that would leave a few people just a bit angry.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind as he approached. On one hand, if he missed the train, he would have to sit in on another of McGonagall's lectures about his responsibilities as a student of Hogwarts and also endure Hermione's judging stare. On the other hand, if he simply bulldozed his way through people, it might leave some of them quite angry at him. Though they might calm down by the end of the school year and forget the whole thing.

Then again, he'd never been one to put much weight on some random people's opinions, but there were few things more painful than a week's worth of lectures by McGonagall.

Well, sacrifices had to be made. Lady always said that if one couldn't help but destroy property during an assignment, at least one could try to make it as miniscule as possible. Trish's advice was the opposite, telling him if he needed to destroy something, at least do it with style. He had never even bothered to ask for Nero's opinion, as he suspected he already knew the answer.

Why not use both at the same time?

"Heads up!" he cried as he reached the large gathering of magicians blocking his route to the train, not bothering to hide the almost manic grin on his face.

Most of them looked up on reflex alone, only to recoil in shock when they saw the young wizard sprinting toward them, a trunk and owl on his back. On the front stood a particularly tall and wide-shouldered man, in blue Auror robes. He had dark skin and a bald head, built like a brick shithouse and looking in much better shape than most wizards. Unlike the majority, he remained rather calm, though his hand twitched toward his wand, on pure reflex. Harry felt a little bad for what he was about to do, but he liked being scolded even less.

"Sorry!" he yelled to the rather robust man just as he reached his position, before suddenly crouching down, his legs tensing as he tried his best not to fall forward, forcing the built-up momentum to go in another direction.

The man's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards when he realized Harry's plan, but as his hands closed around the hidden handle of his wand, he was already too late. Harry was in the air as he launched himself from the ground, his earlier momentum giving him a boost. But even that wouldn't have been enough to clear the large crowd in his way.

Which is why he was using a rather convenient platform, aka the shoulders of the Auror, to give himself a little boost to reach the train.

The man had no way to dodge by the time Harry reached him, his trunk above his head and Hedwig hooting in fury at another of his insane stunts. Thankfully, the man had rather good footing, even with a grown teenager planting his feet on his shoulders, and Harry cleared the crowd with ease, flying through the air towards the train in the distance. The man didn't even lose his balance, resembling more a very well-planted steel column rather than a man as he looked toward Harry with clear incredulity at the reckless move.

The teen in question did not spare so much as a glance backward, focusing instead on the bright red train in front of him, his free hand outstretched as he basically flew toward it.

"Victory!" he cried out with a massive grin as his hand closed around the rail at the back of the train, using his remaining momentum to fling himself into the last of the train cars, just as the Hogwarts Express rolled out of King's Cross station.

It may have been in the nick of time, with a really small margin for error, but he had made it. He quickly patted himself down to make sure he had everything on him, and didn't accidentally injure himself in his impromptu sprint. With that done, he let out a satisfied sigh, and turned toward the trolley with his trunk, which had landed on the side as he threw himself onto the train. From the looks of things, it had caught some damage during the fall, barely holding itself together. Thankfully, the trunk itself was safe, and the things inside doubly-so, protected as they were by enchantments.

"That was a close one. But we made it, and in a stylish way to boot. Am I good or what?"

He let out a long breath as he slumped against the wall, a satisfied smirk on his lips. It only soured a bit when he didn't hear the expected answer.

"What's the matter, Hedwig? We've talked about this, one hoot for me being awesome, and two for me being even more awesome," he said, addressing his familiar and turning towards her cage, a bit worried at the lack of response.

The only problem was that something was missing from the picture. The trolley was there, even if it was mostly broken. A large brown trunk that contained his school supplies, clothes, and similar items was also secured on top, and mostly unharmed. Above it, a smaller, unremarkable case rested, at a glance resembling something that might contain some more of his books and miscellaneous items. In truth, it held his equipment for his non-official work, just in case he ran into anything unusual. But a certain cage notably wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"Hedwig?''

Despite knowing it to be futile, he called out to his familiar, but received no response. At a closer look, he saw the rope that he had used to secure the cage, lying limp where it had snapped.

Back at King's Cross Station, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt slowly shook his head, still trying to make sense of what had just transpired. He was technically off-duty at the moment, but had gone to the Station in uniform, to provide help and security, due to a request from Madam Bones. After all, with the recent prison break of Sirius Black, tensions were high, with everyone (especially the Minister) running around like headless chicken. And with the most probable target of Black attending Hogwarts and using this very station to go to school, they thought it better to be safe than sorry.

He never would have thought that his meeting with the Boy-Who-Lived would have consisted of being almost overrun by the teen who was carrying a full-sized trolley on his back like it weighed nothing. To top it off, following that, the barely thirteen-year-old boy had simply jumped above him and used him as an impromptu step to reach a speeding train.

The world really was a crazy place sometimes.

He was about to leave and check in with the office when a commotion just behind him caught his attention. A commotion that sounded like the rampage of an angry, offended owl stuck in their cage. Turning around, he was met with the frazzled glare of a snowy owl, lying sideways in a cage that had fallen onto its side, the people around it giving it wary looks. There was no doubt that the majestic bird, despite being securely locked up behind bars, still managed to spike a bit of nervousness in them.

"What do we have here?" Shackebolt found himself muttering as he gingerly crouched down and raised the cage to eye level, the owl quieting down and staring at him with a judgmental and intelligent look. "Where did you come from?"

The owl huffed and looked at him as if he was a particularly dumb species of animal. He took no offense at it, and focused instead on how familiar the owl looked. He'd definitely seen it before. It took a moment to click, but at last, he recalled a similar owl hanging on a certain young wizard's trolley as he jumped over him. It must have snapped off during the flight.

"I take it you are Harry Potter's owl?" he asked just to be safe. The answer he got was a simple bark which sounded particularly patronizing. It made him smile slightly. "Guess you're feeling a bit angry at being left behind, huh?"

The following bites at his fingers convinced him to send a pitying thought or two towards the Wizarding World's most prominent celebrity. A slighted owl was no small thing, and this one in particular seemed to carry grudges.

Back on the train, Harry was standing near the railing, looking at the ever-shrinking spot that was London, feeling a shiver travel down his spine that had him feeling more freaked out than the time Uncle Nero had thrown him into a nest of demons, armed with nothing but a simple sword, in the name of "toughening up". Never mind that he was only nine at the time, or that the sword was of quite bad quality to boot.

Yet even that seemed a better prospect than the guaranteed wrath of his familiar once they were reunited. He could already feel the claw marks all over his face, and the painful bites over his ears and fingers.

"Hedwig's going to kill me," he moaned, banging his head into the wall of the train compartment he stood against, frightening a couple of young kids who he guessed were first years.

He quickly apologized with a painfully fake smile, especially as one of them started to gape at him, his gaze stuck firmly at a point above his eyes. Harry was not a stranger to the reaction, especially as the other three kids began to point at him excitedly. He beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to go through the experience of a mob chasing after him again, consisting of curious and oblivious first years.

It had been a rather bizarre and horrific day for him, that, which had forced him to make use of various tricks and tactics he'd learned over the years and were meant to be used to get around demons, not overeager kids. And all of that had only happened because of Colin Creevey and his obsession with him.

He shuddered at the memory and hastened his steps, concentrating on taking quick peeks into the compartments he walked past, trying to spot any of his friends, but coming up short. Until he spied a rather familiar mane of brown, bushy hair in one of the compartments just as he was about to reach the middle of the train.

Bingo!

With a smile, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open. As luck would have it, he walked right into the middle of an argument. Typical.

"I can't believe you! How can you be so calm!" Hermione Granger, a friend of his since their first year, an avid lover of books and rules, was as close to screaming as she could be without alerting the whole train. Her face was red, her normally uncontrollable mane of hair looking even more messy as she furiously paced the rather small space of the train compartment. "You said he was supposed to meet up with your family beforecoming to the station, but you've heard nothing from him the entire summer! And what's worse, we have a crazy wizard on the loose, one who escaped the prison that everyone thought was impossible to escape from, and yet no one has heard a word from Mr. I-Get-Into-Trouble-Every-Other-Day! So why are you so calm?!"

Harry had a bit of a hard time suppressing an indignant snort at that. True, he was out hunting for most of the summer, making his interactions with his friends from the wizarding world somewhat scarce and far-between, and he did have a habit of finding some kind of trouble with regularity, but still! Or, rather, it would be trouble that found him, as was more usual. Still, knowing his penchant for trouble and his track-record of surviving it, he wondered why she was in such a frenzy.

The target of her anger was a young teen with red hair sitting in the compartment, his face set in an obvious expression of boredom as Hermione continued her tirade, not even attempting to calm down, or allow him to defend himself. From the looks of things, he wasn't bothered by it. Which was again the norm when it came to them and their friendship.

His name was Ron Weasley, and he was one of the first friends Harry had made in this school. He was not exactly the brightest tool in the shed, at least when it came to academia, but despite his flaws, he was a loyal friend who had been through thick and thin with Harry, not letting him down once.

He had also stopped worrying about the stupid shit Harry tended to run into daily, deciding it wasn't worth the bald and graying hairline it would give him, and rather place his trust in Harry's abilities to… well, not die. Since he seemed to be doing well on the hairline part, it was surely a working strategy.

"You worry too much Hermione. Look, a bloke can easily just sleep in. I mean, it's not the first time he's missed the train," he said in an even tone, sounding almost bored. Though he had certainly forgot the last time Harry had missed the train, it was the thought that counts with these things. "It's also not like you could do anything about it, even if you work yourself up like that. You know Harry. If he's alright, he will give us a sign sooner or later."

Unfortunately, those were not the best choice of words to offer a worried and agitated Hermione who, from the looks of it, was about to explode with the mother of all rants, which would put even Molly's legendary outbursts to shame.

Considering the sheer amount of terror now present on his mate's face, Harry supposed it was time for him to step in and hopefully convince Hermione not to kill his friend. While there were more than enough Weasleys' out and about to compensate for the loss of one, he wasn't about to start searching for a new male best friend candidate, even if he did get along fairly well with Neville Longbottom.

"Before you take Ron's head off, I would like to point out that, as he said, I'm alright," Harry told her in a rather bland voice as he stepped into the room proper, sending an amused nod in Ron's direction, who could only smile at him in relief.

Hermione froze at the sudden interruption, which, considering it was Harry, wasn't that unusual. With almost robotic movements, she slowly turned around, the grimace on her face somewhere between a forced smile and a snarl. Harry started to lose his smirk as it dawned on him that his preceding actions might not have been the wisest of moves.

Who would have thought that he would die at the hands of his studious female friend? He had always figured it would either be demons or one of Nero's pranks that would do him in. Lady's tests were also a rather good contestant, despite the woman allegedly looking after him. Yet it seemed his fate had already been decided.

Hermoine opened her mouth, no doubt planning to shout his head off, when he noticed something in the corner of his eyes and quickly cut her off, praying that this last-minute gamble would pay off.

"Careful. Don't want to wake up the old guy. Since he's on the train with us, he's probably a teacher," he pointed out to her calmly, indicating with his head toward the far end of the compartment where a man was sleeping.

Though he had pegged the man as a teacher, he looked anything but. From what he could see of his face, he was worryingly thin with his hair graying in multiple spots, and he even looked a bit sickly. The man's clothes were in worse condition than the clothes 'kindly' given to Harry by his aunt's family, when he was still living there. They had been large even before compared to his small frame, full of holes and a step away from simply falling apart.

Still, he had to begrudgingly respect the man a little. Looks aside, he at least seemed to have a bit of common sense, as even in his sleep, he kept his wand within easy reach. Even his posture indicated that he wasn't a heavy sleeper, and that he would be up at the slightest hint of disturbance.

He'd only seen Lady and Nero look this cautious whilst also maintaining the illusion that they weren't. It was something that came from experience, they had told him when questioned about it. And considering there had been a wizard civil war that ended a bit less than twelve years ago, he had an inkling of where the man might have gained that experience, since he didn't think him to be an Auror.

Returning to the situation at hand, Harry looked back at Hermione, whose face was clamming up at the mere thought of disturbing a sleeping teacher. The sight of it almost had him snorting. Trust Hermione to keep up the proper priorities in life, namely school before anything else. It was refreshing, after spending most of the summer hunting demons who, most of the time, couldn't even make the slightest bit of banter.

"In my defense, I overslept and had to hurry to reach the train. I almost didn't make it," Harry quickly added with a disarming smile. As Trish had once said, a cute face can calm down people much faster than reasonable arguments, even if the latter also wouldn't hurt. "Sorry for making you worry."

Judging by the way her face reddened, the slightest bite on her lower lip and the fact that she couldn't seem to meet his eyes, his strategy had been successful. Thank God that, despite being quite intelligent and clever, Hermione could be just as gullible as the rest of humanity. Himself included, of course.

"So… what had you guys so worried? As Ron said, it's not like this is the first time I have had trouble arriving at the right time," he asked as he stepped past the witch who stood still as a statue, and dropped himself and his luggage next to the sleeping guy, taking care not to wake or startle him.

"You mean… you don't know?" This time, it was Ron who gave him an incredulous stare, causing Harry to tilt his head. No offense to Ron, but if it agitated even him, despite possibly not involving chess or quidditch, it might actually be something big.

"And now I am getting a bit concerned. What did I miss?" Harry asked, looking from Ron to Hermione, both of them staring at him in open disbelief.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but… where have you been most of the summer? Living under a rock?" his female friend asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

"My guardian had me running errands all summer, so I didn't have much time to check out the news," he admitted, his face not even twitching at the small lie he added.

Calling the demon hunts that Lady sent him on as nothing more than "mere errands" was a bit of a stretch, especially because they often required him to leave Britain several times. But what Hermione didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, or worry her. And everyone was a winner in that scenario.

Unfortunately, because of his cavalier attitude, Hermione's frown only deepened, before she turned around and rushed to her things, digging through a rather stuffed bag with abandon. Harry could only watch in growing apprehension as he saw her casually throw massive books aside, larger than his head, in her efforts to dig up whatever it was she wanted to find.

"And we've lost Hermione. Again," Ron commented with the same energy as a man reporting on the weather, before giving his friend a side-eyed look. "If I were you, I would try and make a run for it whilst she's distracted."

"I would do that, if I didn't know she would just come after me with a vengeance," he replied with a sardonic smile. "If I've learned anything in the past two years, it's that there's no running from Hermione Granger."

Ron snorted at that, muttering in agreement. Both of them were forced to shut up when the bushy-haired girl suddenly straightened up with a victorious shout, holding up a folded newspaper in her hand.

"Here. Read this," she commanded. Harry had the presence of mind to simply nod his head and follow her orders.

The article was from a wizarding newspaper, and it showed the moving image of a shaggy, deranged-looking man behind bars, glaring menacingly at the camera. Sirius Black, a former Death Eater, had apparently escaped from the wizarding prison of Azkaban, something that had never been done before. The Ministry was launching a country-wide manhunt for the escaped convict to cover its ass in the wake of the jailbreak.

It was all pretty fascinating, but he honestly didn't see what had Hermione so worried. It wasn't like he had a grudge against the followers of Voldemort. He wouldn't just hunt them down the first chance he got. It also didn't seem very likely for this guy to go after him first thing after breaking out of a legendary prison.

On second thought, however, those possibilities seemed to grow far more likely, knowing him and his luck. Suddenly, he understood why she was worried.

Without saying a word, he lowered the newspaper and looked up, meeting the expectant eyes of Hermione. And despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but feel like he was being lectured for something he was not involved in.

Well, not directly involved, at least.

"I'll be careful?" he tried in a weak and desperate gambit.

In the end, his luck worked out in his favor for once, rather than against him. Hermione let out an annoyed huff, crossed her arms, and simply sat down next to a bewildered Ron. Who, from the looks of it, couldn't decide if he was dreaming or not. Hermione Granger had just willingly decided not to use an opportunity to lecture them. Maybe the world really was ending.

Harry was also feeling the whiplash, but knew better than to question it.

"So... How was your summer?" Ron, having finally snapped out of his shock, directed the question at Harry, likely trying to dispel some of the tension. It was an admirable attempt, if nothing else.

"Oh, nothing special. Just ran a few errands," he answered with a shrug, trying his best to stay nonchalant. He could already feel Hermione's eyes boring into his head, as if willing the real answers to come straight out of it. The scary thing was, he was a little afraid it might actually work, having heard a rumor or two about some of the more obscure arts of magic out there.

So much for helping him out. Ron had just taken him out of the frying pan and into the oven, ready to be baked at the kitchen of a curious Hermione Granger.

It's not like he didn't want to talk about his activities, as they were not some big government secrets that would get them killed simply for knowing. And it also wasn't like he didn't trust them to keep it to themselves. It was more like… he didn't want to deal with their disbelief.

Demons, at least the kind he hunted, was not a well-known phenomenon in the wizarding world. He had made several discreet inquiries into the nature of demons since his introduction to the wizarding world, but so far, he'd come up with nothing but hearsay and fiction. To most magicals, demons were simply bedtime stories, powerful wizards disguising themselves as something else, or just sheer propaganda from the Church and the other organizations that used to hunt them before the two worlds disconnected completely some time back. And despite magic having so many possible applications and wonders to it, wizards could be really narrow-minded when they wanted to be.

Hermione, despite her intellect, could be just as stubborn sometimes. Unfortunately, she had the bad habit of believing everything she read in a book, and doubting everything that wasn't written down in some way or another. And because of that, he knew she would be his greatest skeptic if he ever came out of the metaphorical demon-hunting closet.

Ron, on the other hand, was more like a fifty-fifty possibility. He was just as likely to go along with it, trusting Harry's word, maybe muttering how 'wicked' it was, as he was to be skeptical and disbelieving. But even more than their disbelief, Harry didn't want to see them worry.

Because despite his devil-may-care attitude, that was both a coping mechanism and something he just picked up from his various teachers, hunting demons was dangerous. Especially when you were human, with no convenient demon blood flowing through you, giving you crazy power-ups when you most needed them or got stabbed by your own weapon. Several things could go wrong, spelling out an almost certain death for him.

Was it responsible to send out a twelve-year-old on such dangerous adventures? Absolutely not. But he'd gotten used to it, and not to toot his own horn or anything, but he wasn't half-bad at it, either. The fact that he was still alive basically spoke for itself.

It was just… better for everyone involved to just let the matter lie.

"Again, man? Your guardians are working you to the bone," Ron said, looking aghast. Though if he was more horrified at the thought of Harry having to work through most of the summer, or the fact that Harry seemed to be completely okay with that, was anybody's guess. "You don't know how close dad came to caving in and having us come try and pick you up, just like last summer."

Harry had to hide his wince at the mention of the disaster that had almost happened last year. Not long after the end of the school year, he'd been picked up by Nero in the name of an impromptu training trip, so he hadn't even been in the country to begin with. His friends had sent him numerous letters, which he hadn't received thanks to being on another continent and a rogue house-elf further messing with his mail.

It had led to the point where Ron and his twin brothers, Fred and George, had borrowed their father's illegally enchanted flying Ford Anglia, and tried to 'rescue' him. Safe to say, it almost ended terribly, considering Potter Manor's wards were activated with Harry gone for most of the summer. Then, to make matters worse, Ron and his brothers had simply forgot that old and noble families tended to have defensive wards, which could be quite extreme in nature, even if the Potter family was considered to be among the good ones. Not to mention some of the anti-demon defenses Harry had made sure to add, with the help of Trish and Nico Goldstein.

In short, it was not an experience anyone remembered fondly, save for the twins, who seemed all but intent on repeating it. It was lucky he'd been dropped off by Nero the very day Ron and his twins had come for him, or who knows what might have happened?

"That wasn't entirely my fault," he defended, raising his hands to shield himself from the judgmental look Hermione was now sending him. "There was a house elf interfering with my mail last year, which shouldn't happen again."

Whilst Dobby was his house elf now, and there was no cursed diary with a thousand-year-old monster looking to kill him in it, that didn't mean the house elf couldn't suddenly decide to protect him again one day, in a way that would cause him more harm than good. He was as loyal and eager as they come, but he also wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Even so, you came back from school, and they immediately sent you out on errands like that? Without supervision?" Hermione questioned, and Harry had to fight to suppress a grimace at how she managed to find holes in his reasoning so fast. "Not to mention how irresponsible that is, or the fact that they don't seem to care about you or your safety at all?"

"Trust me, it's not like that at all," Harry said, a nervous sweat breaking out across his back. "They aren't forcing me to do it. It was actually I who decided that I wanted to help out more, you know?"

That was technically true, because even Lady wouldn't be so heartless as to just send out a kid on a solo demon hunt. It was after his own impatience to show the results of his training, and the assurances of Nero and Trish to accompany him on his first few hunts to make sure he would be alright, that his stern guardian had finally agreed to let him go.

A rare, honest, and soft smile appeared on Harry's face, taking his two friends aback.

"You guys remember how I initially lived with my aunt's family, right?" he asked in a soft voice, looking out the window. It was uncommon for him to open up about his past, especially considering his relatives. Recognizing this, both of his friends chose to stay quiet. "It's true that I am a bit busy nowadays, with various errands to run, but compared to my time with the Dursleys', it's a life I'm proud of.''

By the end of his sentence, his voice had turned grave, his hand unconsciously closing into a fist as he remembered things he'd long since left behind.

"Harry..." Hermione spoke up, trailing off when she couldn't come up with the correct words to say.

Instead of waiting for them to gather their wits, Harry suddenly stood up, running a hand through his hair as he slowly turned towards the compartment door, making sure not to meet either Ron's or Hermione's eyes. He feared he would spill all the beans if he saw the expressions on their faces just then.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back. Just going to check on the Trolley Lady, since I probably just missed her," he told them, putting his hand on the knob.

Hermione tried to protest, to insist on him opening up, but Ron, while slow at times, was quick on the uptake. He put a hand on the witch's shoulder, gently pushing her down while looking at Harry with a mixed expression on his face. Finally, he gave a small, sincere smile.

"A bag of Bertie Botts and two chocolate toads for me if you can, mate."

Hermione looked scandalized at his actions, but Harry only snorted, before turning his head back. Aside from the slight wetness in his eyes, there was a soft smile directed at his best friend.

"Sure, got it. Be right back."

With that, he exited the compartment and quickly walked away. He wouldn't want to hear Hermione tear Ron a new one for interrupting her plea.

While his ginger-haired friend might be a bit of a brat at times, he was also able to see when Harry needed a bit of time to himself, which he was thankful for. He looked outside a nearby window as old memories hit him.

"It's already been six years, huh…" he mumbled to himself, his mind going back to that fateful day. The day that had started like all the rest. The day where he'd met his first demon and almost died. When he'd escaped from the life he'd called hell, only to get a taste of the real one. The day when the path in front of him had been decided. And finally, the day when he'd found his new family.

There were many emotions associated with that day, and Harry found himself a little out of sorts as he tried to sort through them. It couldn't be helped, a cynical part of him thought. After all, he'd done his best to simply not acknowledge what had happened that day for a very long time now.

So lost was he in his thoughts, that he failed to notice the train slowing down, or the unnatural cold creeping its way up his spine.