Vernon stopped outside of King's Cross and gave Harry a beady glare as the boy took his time about getting out of the car. He didn't even have any apparent luggage, since it was all inside his shrunken trunk. Really, Harry was being slow just to see if his uncle would have an aneurism, which would be an awesome thing to happen just before he went off to Hogwarts.
Alas, no luck. Harry sighed to himself and started into the station as Vernon's car squealed loudly away. Perhaps for his twelfth birthday, then. Or his thirteenth. Oh, yes. Thirteen. Harry mentally added that to a list in his mind.
A few people eyed him a bit oddly, but Harry ignored them as he slipped through the early morning crowds to platforms nine and ten. At the barrier, he took a cursory glance around, then leaned back through the wall and onto the other side.
The Hogwarts train with its scarlet engine had ceased to inspire any sort of excitement in Harry by Lily's final year, but seeing it again after having walked through the wreckage was... amazing. Harry stopped for a moment and just smiled at the train, feeling a bit like he'd just come home.
He wondered how seeing Hogwarts would feel.
A bump from behind him reminded him that he wasn't that far from the barrier. He'd been lucky the next person coming through hadn't been running, honestly. "Sorry about that," he offered, turning to smile at the person.
"D-don't worry ab-about it," Neville Longbottom stuttered as his Gran stepped through behind him.
Harry's smile widened at his old friend. "Completely my fault," he assured the boy, "I stopped and stared instead of keeping on. Here, I'll help you with your luggage, hm?"
Neville seemed completely thrown for a loop, but there was no way he could refuse Harry when he'd already started off with Neville's trunk, so the boy grabbed his sack and Trevor and dashed after the other boy, calling, "Bye, Gran!" over his shoulder as he dove into the crowd.
Augusta Longbottom sighed and shook her head, then turned and wheeled the trolley back towards the entrance of the station. Boys would be boys. She just hoped that new boy wouldn't be too cruel to Neville.
On the train, Neville finally caught up with the thief of his trunk as the boy hefted it up into the luggage rack without any apparent trouble, leaving Neville staring like an idiot.
Harry dusted his hands together and turned to grin at Neville, who was standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. "Hey, you'll catch flies that way," he teased, gently pushing up on Neville's chin. "I'm Harry, by the way."
"N-Neville," the other boy stuttered a bit.
"Well, N-Neville, it's nice to meet you," Harry replied, flopping down in one of the chairs. "Come on in and sit down, huh? No point in blocking the door."
Neville shuffled over to the seat across from Harry and plopped down, clutching his toad and sack to his chest as if he was afraid Harry would steal them as well.
Harry rolled his eyes and shifted enough to pull Hogwarts, A History out of his back pocket – which was bigger on the inside than the outside so he could hold books and other toys in there. He stretched out over his bench and popped the book open to read, for all intents and purposes deciding to ignore Neville.
Neville was just starting to relax when the compartment door slid open and a girl with wild brown hair filled the opening. "Oh," she said, looking crestfallen.
Harry glanced over his book and took note of her trunk behind her. "Looking for a place to sit?" he asked, inwardly jumping for joy. He'd found Hermione!
The girl chewed her bottom lip a bit. "Yeah. All the other compartments I've seen so far were full of upper years."
"Well, it's just us firsties in here, and you're welcome to join us," Harry said, closing his book and sitting up. "Come on in and we'll see about getting that trunk into the rack."
Hermione grimaced. "It might be a bit too heavy," she warned even as she stepped inside, trunk sliding heavily behind her.
Harry shrugged and stood properly, leaving his book on the bench. "We'll manage," he promised and leaned down to take hold of one end.
Hermione looked quite uncertain about that, but leaned down and took a hold of the other side. She was a bit awed when the trunk that her father had barely been able to lift into the boot went up with ease into the rack. She stared at the boy in awe. "What are you?" she whispered.
Harry flushed. Oops. He stuck out his hand and grinned widely. "I'm Harry, by the way. And this is N-Neville."
Hermione blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to–"
"Nice to meet you, Are you trying to!" Harry said over her demand, still grinning.
Hermione's mouth fell open and she stared at the strange boy as he flopped back down into his seat and pulled his book back open.
"You'll catch flies like that," Neville quietly said after a moment.
Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she turned to the other boy in the compartment. "Is he–?"
Neville shrugged. "I've only just met him too. I ran into him out on the platform and he ran off with my trunk." He glanced down at his sack. "What's your real name?"
The girl smiled. "Hermione. Hermione Granger. I'm the first witch in my family." She puffed up a bit at that, quite proud.
Neville smiled. "Neville Longbottom. I'm a pureblood, one of the older families."
They both looked over at Harry who was watching them from over top of his book. At their expectant looks, he sighed and lowered his book. "Harry Potter," he offered, sighing again as soon as their eyes widened.
Neville looked a bit like he'd just seen Merlin or something. Hermione, on the other hand, looked a bit like Harry was a new experiment. "Harry Potter! I know all about you–"
"You know nothing about me!" Harry snapped as the temperature in the compartment plummeted. "You've heard fairy stories and read books written by people who've never even seen me. Don't you dare claim to know anything about me!"
There was a long moment of silence and the three first years stared at each other across the compartment, Hermione and Neville shivering while Harry shook with anger.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered at last, tears in her eyes.
Harry closed his eyes and fell back against his seat, forcing himself to come back under control. He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that, but after the war with the mundanes, he'd become rather sick of all the people who looked to him to save them. People who thought they knew him. He swallowed and looked back over at the two frightened children. "I'm sorry too," he murmured. "I didn't mean to lose my temper. I just..." He sighed and rubbed at his face, knocking his glasses askew. "I'm not the hero people make me out to be. I didn't defeat Voldemort, my mum did. I'm just the kid who survived." He looked up at them, feeling old and tired.
Hermione and Neville seemed to have calmed down and the girl was leaning forward a bit. "Your mum defeated You-Know-Who?"
Harry rolled his eyes at the public name for the Dark Lord. "Yeah. When Voldemort came to kill me, he offered to let Mum move aside. He was going to spare her for some reason, I dunno. Anyway, when he cast the Killing Curse, there was this shield or something in the way and it reflected back at him." Harry shrugged.
Neville swallowed. "You remember that?" he whispered.
Harry looked down at his book and gently traced the letters on the cover. "Yeah. I have perfect recall, pretty much from the time the spell hit. I have..." He shook his head and looked up at the children across from him. "Those books and stories are wrong. Whatever." He picked his book up and flipped it open to where he'd been reading when Hermione came in.
The compartment was silent as the train started off. After a few minutes, Hermione pulled out her own book and Neville pulled out a deck of cards to play solitaire.
They remained in silence for almost two hours until it was broken by the appearance of the woman with the sweets trolley who popped her head in and asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Hermione shook her head, but both Harry and Neville rose to collect some treats. Harry stuck mostly to the chocolate frogs and a couple cauldron cakes, not up for much else, but Neville happily got a bit of everything and dumped it into the seat Harry had been taking up with his legs.
Harry was more amused than annoyed as he took his seat and he sat back to watch Neville offer sweets to Hermione, the child of dentists. She turned all of them away until Harry absently mentioned, "Cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties don't have a lot of sugar in them. And some of the Every Flavour Beans are vegetable-flavoured."
Hermione gave him an odd look and he smiled at her widely before biting off the head of a squirming frog. She looked torn between disapproval and amusement, and when Harry held out an unopened frog, grinning through chocolate-covered teeth, she laughed and took the frog. "You're going to rot your teeth!" she complained as Harry bit into another frog.
"At least I'll be happy while I do so," Harry agreed, "what with chocolate being a natural antidepressant."
Hermione blinked in surprise while Neville asked, "Natural anti-what?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You've heard of the medicinal value of chocolate?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure. It lightens your mood," Neville agreed.
"Antidepressant is a mund–muggle word for something that makes you happier."
Hermione was eyeing him like he was a puzzle again and Harry had to suppress a sigh. "What were you going to call muggles?"
"Mundanes," Harry muttered. "It's what my aunt calls herself." Which was a bald-faced lie, but even if someone got the balls to ask Petunia what she called non-magical folk, she'd sooner beat them with her frying pan than give them a real answer.
"Your aunt is a muggle?" Neville wondered while Hermione smiled to herself. Mystery solved.
"Well, yeah. She's my mum's sister." Harry shrugged. "She and my uncle and cousin are all mundanes. Muggles. Whatever!" He huffed and bit into another wiggling frog.
Hermione covered a smile with one hand. "I like that word, mundane. Muggle just sounds so... Rude, I guess."
" 'Muggle' wasn't meant to be polite," Harry muttered. "It was meant to be derogatory."
"I think it's horrible!" Hermione huffed. "We're all human, right? What does it matter if we have magic or not?"
Harry left his last chocolate frog on the seat and turned to look outside at the passing fields. His Hermione had been killed while making an impassioned speech on that very topic. The mundanes hadn't cared whose rights she was crying for, she was magical and she had to die.
Neville looked uncomfortably between Harry's silently tragic profile and Hermione's righteous fury. After a moment, Hermione relaxed a bit, so Neville waved his cards at her. "Want to play Exploding Snap?"
Hermione blinked. "Oh, erm, sure? I don't know the rules or anything..."
"We can teach you," Harry offered, turning away from the window with a smile. His Hermione was gone, but this Hermione was still alive and well. And he'd keep her that way, even if she hated him for it.
Harry had been a bit surprised when they made it to Hogsmeade Station without a visit from Draco. (Of course, the only people who knew that Harry Potter had actually been on the train had been in the same compartment almost the whole trip, only leaving to change into their robes five minutes out.) At the announcement for them to leave their luggage on the train, however, both Neville and Hermione eyed Harry curiously.
"Don't you have any luggage?" Hermione wondered.
"You didn't have a trunk on the platform, either," Neville remembered.
Harry shrugged and pulled out his miniature trunk. "I spent a little extra money to have it shrink and re-size on command, so I just keep it in my pocket. No reason to go shoving it up in the rack if I can just keep it on me." So saying, he slipped it back into his pocket and relaxed back in his seat for the last few moments of the trip.
"That's... sort of useful," Hermione commented. "But doesn't it weight a lot?"
Harry shrugged. "It reduces the mass, not just the size, so no. But it's also got a feather light charm on it, so it weighs next to nothing even at full size."
"I'm going to guess that was a muggle explanation for a spell?" Neville offered.
"Pretty much," Harry agreed.
The train finally came to a halt and all three shuffled out among the throng to where Hagrid was calling for the firsties.
When everyone had gathered around Hagrid, the giant gamekeeper led the way down the path to the lake, calling out to let them know when they could see Hogwarts.
While the other students all gasped in awe at the beautiful castle, Harry just stared up at it and clenched his fists at his side. I'll never let mundanes destroy you again. I'd sooner die than see you as rubble again, he silently promised. Hogwarts was his first home, and he would kill millions of mundanes to see her safe.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out to them as they reached the crafts.
Neville looked a little nervous as he stepped into the boat, sitting quickly and gripping one of the sides tightly. At Hermione and Harry's concerned looks, he whispered, "I can't swim."
Hermione frowned at that, but Harry shrugged and offered, "Neither can I. I can manage a most excellent flail, however."
Neville choked on his laughter and his grip loosened slightly as a fourth person stepped into their boat. "Lillian Moon," she whispered in introduction as Hagrid shouted for the boats to move out.
"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied, holding out a hand to shake.
Lillian looked a little uncertain at the muggle surname, but shook the offered hand anyway.
"Neville Longbottom," Neville offered, refusing to let go of the sides now that the boat was moving under its own power.
"Harry," Harry allowed when Lillian turned to him. "You know, Neville, if you fall in, the Giant Squid will rescue you."
Neville's eyes got really big. "G-Giant S-Squid!"
Hermione huffed. "Harry."
Harry shrugged. "He will. He doesn't like the taste of students. Too chewy."
Hermione gently swatted Harry's arm as Neville got even more pale. "Stop that!"
Lillian snorted. "I like you, Harry," she decided. "You got a last name?"
"I prefer to be mysterious for as long as possible," Harry replied, eyes dancing. "You'll find out at the Sorting, anyway."
Hermione rolled her eyes and helped Neville out of the boat once they reached the dock. "There, dry land."
Harry hopped up next to Neville and slung an arm around his shoulders. "After that, the Sorting should be a snap, eh?"
"I'm not talking to you right now," Neville muttered. "Next thing you're going to do is say we have to fight a troll or something to be Sorted."
"That would be way too bloody for your first day," Harry assured him with a straight face. "They wait until Hallowe'en to spring the troll on you."
"Just ignore him," Hermione hissed while Lillian chortled behind them.
Hagrid handed them off to the stern-faced McGonagall, who led them up to the waiting room to give her speech. Once she'd left, the students started whispering about what the Sorting might entail.
Harry leaned back against the wall and watched his year mates whisper. Hermione and Neville had shifted away from him a bit during the trip from the docks, but it was probably for the best. Making friends with them again when he knew they would hate him for the murders he committed would only hurt that much more.
Lillian, on the other hand, leaned back against the wall next to him. "I can't decide if you actually like the scaredy little Huff'n'duff, or if you just enjoy screwing with him."
"Neville's a good kid," Harry murmured. "And he'll make an excellent Gryffindor, assuming he can ever get past his self-esteem issues. I hope he and Hermione become friends. They're good for one another."
Lillian eyed him oddly. "You're strange," she decided. "You aiming for a particular House? And please don't say Gryffindor."
Harry smiled at that. "Ravenclaw. I'm fond of knowledge, so I should end up there. If not..." He shrugged. "Probably Slytherin."
Lillian nodded. "Then we'd be snakes together. It's good I like you."
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing to do but wait and see."
McGonagall came back then and shooed away the ghosts that had scared some of the other kids. Then she led them up into the Great Hall. From somewhere ahead of them, Harry heard Hermione telling Neville about the ceiling and he smiled fondly. Next to him, Lillian rolled her eyes and muttered, "Ravenclaws."
As soon as they were all arranged before the Sorting Hat, it started its song. Once done, McGonagall started calling out students' names so they could be Sorted.
When Hermione and Neville both went to Gryffindor, he clapped for them and smiled as they passed. He also clapped for Lillian as she made the walk to Slytherin, head high. Everyone went to the same Houses he'd remembered them going to. Only he would break the pattern.
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry made his way up to the Hat as the Hall broke out in whispers. Hearing some of them, he had to bite back a grimace, and he was quite glad for the Hat as it slipped over his eyes and blocked him from the Hall.
'Well, well, what have we here? Oh. Oh my.'
'Ollivander said much the same when we met,' Harry commented drily. 'You two don't happen to be friends, do you?'
'You've had quite the difficult life, Mr Potter,' the Hat said, and it sounded so very sad.
Harry wished he could look away, knowing very well what horrors the Hat might see in his mind. Only Occlumency kept his memories from haunting his nightmares. 'It's been hard, sure, but I've come back to do it over. I'll save everyone this time.'
'You cannot save everyone,' the Hat pointed out gently. 'Some will have to die. That is the nature of war. That's the nature of the war you wish to wage. People will die, the only thing you're changing is who will die the fastest.'
'It means the same in the end.'
'No, it really doesn't.' The Hat sighed. 'It doesn't matter. You've long chosen your course. Travel it if that is your will, but don't lose yourself on the way, Harry Potter. The Wizarding World will never survive if you do.' So saying, the Hat returned its attention to the Hall and shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
Harry handed the Hat back to McGonagall and stepped silently over to the table of the eagles as they cheered for him. His mind was stuck on the Hat's words, but he managed to bring himself out of his thoughts long enough to see that Hermione and Neville were both smiling at him, as was Lillian over at the Slytherin Table.
Dinner was as loud an affair as Harry had remembered it being, even among the quieter eagles. After the first person asked him about the night he received his scar and he shot them his best glare and brought his power to bear on them, no one else bothered him about it. Instead, talk moved to students wondering about their classes and professors. They were all so excited to be learning new things and Harry found himself being drawn into the discussion almost against his will. Little this year would be new to him, but he could understand their excitement and he was caught up in it without a choice in the matter.
After Dumbledore's speech, the Ravenclaw Prefects led the firsties to their dorm and explained the challenge they'd have to answer to get in every time. Harry made a mental note to study up on riddles within the next couple days or travel with at least one other Ravenclaw.
Once they were all ensconced in their four posters and his five roommates were asleep, Harry rested back against his pillows and sunk into his mind. The Hat had warned him not to lose himself, and with all the knowledge floating about in his head and all those murders he'd committed so far, it wasn't hard to see why it would mention that. So Harry spent the night organizing his mind into a new classification system, ensuring that who he was – that bright, wide-eyed boy so full of wonder and adventure whose best friends had been the youngest red-head of a huge family and the brightest witch in the school – would never get buried under death and knowledge. Because that boy, 'Just Harry', hadn't cared for knowledge and hadn't known death. He'd only wanted acceptance and love.
That was the boy Harry swore never to forget.
The first month went by faster than Harry ever could have expected. Classes were dull, other than Snape's weekly attacks. The Head of Slytherin could really hold a grudge and, honestly, as long as Snape left his mother out of things, he could snark all he wished. Harry had taken to keeping a notebook of some of the best insults Snape used, looking forward to using them on people in the future.
Harry took the time to get to know his new Housemates, since he'd never had much to do with the Ravenclaws beyond Luna in his old life. Well, Padma had been Parvati's sister and Ron's Yule Ball date, and Terry, Michael, and Anthony had all been members of the DA, but that left six other Ravenclaws that he barely knew the names of, let alone anything about them.
Terry Boot, he found, had an older brother who was a mundane. Much like Petunia had done when Lily was accepted to Hogwarts, Terry's older brother had written hopefully to Dumbledore and, upon receiving a negative response, decided to take his fury out on his younger brother. As Terry's brother was on his secondary school's football team, he left quite the bruises behind and Terry had been nervous around his roommates until they healed. Harry had found out within the second week, having been in Terry's position in the past, and offered some bruise cream from his trunk. Almost immediately, Terry was his new best friend.
Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein were both half-bloods and only children. Their mothers were the magical one, while their fathers were mundane. Anthony's father, however, had left when he was three, unable to deal with Anthony's wandless magic. Michael's father had remained and become one of Michael's biggest supporters.
Stephen Cornfoot was a pureblood with only his mum. His father had been suspected of Death Eater activities and sent to Azkaban at the end of the war without a trial, much like Sirius had been. His father had wasted away after three years and had been thrown out to sea upon his death. Stephen had never known him beyond the few pictures his mother had kept. He held an enormous grudge against the Ministry, occasionally scribbling pictures on his class notes of the building in flames or a man with a bowler hat being burned at the stake. (Harry had asked for a copy of the latter and Stephen had sketched him one with a laugh. Harry had it tacked over his personal desk in the dorm.)
Kevin Entwhistle was a muggleborn with something to prove. His parents hadn't wanted him to go to Hogwarts, but he'd begged and pleaded, wanting to learn more than just what he could be taught at a mundane secondary. If he didn't manage at least an E in all his subjects, he wouldn't be returning next year. When the Ravenclaws had heard that ultimatum, they all swore to help Kevin pass, no matter what.
Mandy Brocklehurst was a half-blood without any sort of tragic story. Her father had been a Ravenclaw and her mother a Hufflepuff. Both had been good students and her mother, after years of trying, was finally pregnant with their second child. Mandy had been a bit upset that she'd miss the birth of her new brother or sister, but she looked forward to telling the child all about Hogwarts over the holidays.
Morag MacDougal was a pureblood from a Dark-aligned family. She generally avoided the rest of the Ravenclaws, instead choosing to mingle with the Slytherins when she was away from the common. Harry had tried getting her to talk to him three times before she finally cursed him silent and stormed off, spending the night with her cousins in Slytherin. Harry had been more amused by her reaction than anything else, but he decided it would be best to just ignore her, rather than making an enemy.
Padma Patil was the quieter of the twins and was often forgotten by her parents. She never found fault with her parents for ignoring her, preferring the silence to her sister's loud games in the front lawn. She was also the less feminine of the two, preferring mundane trousers over robes or skirts. She often spent her allowance on trousers while her sister picked out a new dress or robe in the most garish shade of pink she could find.
Li Su was a half-blood from China, where she'd lived until she was eight. Her mother had been killed in an uprising and her father had decided to move them out of their country to Britain, where he'd lived for most of his own life. It had been quite the change for Li and she still had trouble fitting in and speaking the language. Harry, having sucked a few souls who knew Mandarin, found himself enjoying sitting down with her on the weekend and conversing in the language. It was the first time he learned a language without swallowing a soul and it was hard work, but a lot of fun. And while Li taught him Mandarin, Harry taught her English and helped her with her assignments.
Lisa Turpin, the last of the Ravenclaw first years, had been raised in a muggle orphanage until she was adopted by a nice, older muggle couple when she was seven. She liked her adopted parents well enough, but the orphanage had left its scars on her psyche, just as a mundane orphanage had once twisted Tom Riddle. Lisa wasn't quite as twisted as Tom had been, but she was slow to smile and would occasionally flinch away from any possible violence. Harry and Terry, having both come from semi-abusive homes, were working together to make her open up to something other than her books.
All things considered, Harry liked his new year mates, but he was closest with Terry and Li, and they made his separation from his old Gryffindor friends much easier. He didn't even really think about Hermione or Neville beyond the occasional wave across the Great Hall or a partnering in one of the few classes they shared together. He was equally distant with Lillian, but since he'd only met her on the boat over, that didn't bother him as much.
The only thing that really bothered him about not spending a lot of time with the Gryffindors was that there was no way he could ever hope to catch Scabbers. Ron barely even knew he existed, never mind thinking Harry might consider talking to him. Harry didn't like the thought that this would keep him from freeing Sirius, but his godfather had already been stuck in Azkaban for ten years, another few months wouldn't do that much more harm. (And if doing his childhood again had taught him anything, it was patience.)
The only other thing Harry was debating about was Quirrell. While it was true that he had the same basic goals as Voldemort, he honestly didn't know that the Dark Lord would ever agree to an alliance. More likely, Voldemort would demand Harry's subservience, which Harry would sooner die again than grant. Never mind that Harry honestly didn't know how to approach the Dark Lord to discuss anything of the sort.
Harry woke on the morning of Hallowe'en feeling unusually jumpy. Or not so much unusually, all things considered; Hallowe'en had always been something of a cursed day for him, no matter what life he was living. As an adult, something bad would always happen on October thirty-first – a criminal getting away from them after a long chase, another friend dying at the hands of the mundanes, the Hogwarts massacre – and living with the Dursleys continued the trend – getting moved to the cupboard, him breaking his arm while hunting mundanes...
Harry already sort of knew what would happen this Hallowe'en, but he wasn't sure how true to his past life it would be. Ron had appeared to fall in with Seamus and Dean without Harry there and they certainly scorned Hermione, but the brilliant witch had a friend in Neville after they bonded on the train over sweets. More importantly, Hermione seemed a bit less obnoxious about her knowledge than Harry remembered her being, and he wasn't sure if that was just his faulty memory or if she actually had loosened up a bit.
At any rate, Harry was very much not looking forward to the day, no matter what it would bring, but he shuffled out of bed and into a change of clothing like a good student, then waited in the common room for Li and Terry, both of whom preferred to sleep in a bit longer.
When his two friends finally joined him, they made their way down to the Great Hall, Li and Terry occasionally shooting Harry worried looks. He supposed he was quieter than usual, but he couldn't really help it.
The day was as boring as ever, but Harry kept an eye out for Hermione, intending to keep her from missing the Feast if he could help it at all. But Hermione never ran off crying because of something Ron said and Harry relaxed a bit. There would still be a troll running around, but the teachers could handle that, and Snape was more than capable of stopping Quirrell's attempt on the Stone.
Now there was an idea for approaching Voldemort. The bastard wanted the Philosopher's Stone, and Harry knew how to get past the various enchantments – though he might have some minor trouble with the chessboard. Perhaps he could get the Stone, then offer it to Voldemort as a trade for an alliance? Or just a trade to keep Voldemort from trying to kill him. He'd have to think about that.
He'd also have to wait until after Christmas. It would be easier with his Cloak, and Dumbledore would have to place the Mirror in there first.
His patience was only going to last so long, however.
The Feast was pretty much how he remembered it. Moments after the food was served, Quirrell ran in shouting about a troll and pretended to faint. While the students were panicking, Harry cast his eye over the Gryffindor table to ensure both Hermione and Neville were there – they were – then glanced briefly around his year mates to make sure they were all there. Morag was not, but he spotted her over with the Slytherins, sitting next to her cousin, Tracey Davis.
Dumbledore was calling for silence, but Harry had just realised something was wrong: Lillian was missing.
As the students rose, Harry slipped over to where Morag was saying her goodbyes to Tracey and demanded, "Where's Lillian Moon?"
Tracey and Morag both sneered at him, but Millicent Bulstrode touched his shoulder and said, "She had detention with Filch for tracking in mud after Herbology two days ago. He made it today just so she would miss the Feast."
"Bloody squib," Harry muttered, then shot Millicent a strained smile. "Thanks. If I see her on my way to the dorms, I'll bring her along until the all-clear's given.
Millicent nodded and they parted, Harry following Morag back to where their Housemates were being gathered together.
"That's everyone, then," the Prefect said. "Okay, let's go."
Once they were out in the castle proper and heading up the stairs to the towers, Harry silently cast point me to find Lillian. It pointed him towards the trophy room, which was uncomfortably close to where the troll had shown up during his last life. A second point me told him the troll was again in that area. If Lillian made any noise, the troll would come and investigate. Bloody hell.
Harry touched Li's shoulder. "Save me some food," he requested, then slipped away from the group, silently disillusioning himself as he went. Even if Li sent up an alarm, they'd never spot him.
The trip to the trophy room was thankfully short and Harry dropped his disillusionment just before stepping into the room. Lillian was humming to herself as she polished a trophy, looking a little irritated.
"Lillian!" Harry hissed.
The Slytherin glanced up and blinked. "Harry?" she asked, not bothering to keep her voice down. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Feast?"
Harry shook his head. "They sent us to our common rooms because there's a troll loose in the castle. Come on."
"A troll?" Lillian repeated, gently replacing the trophy in its case and tossing her cleaning rag into the bucket at her feet.
Harry felt himself pale as the troll lumbered into the other doorway, looking dumb and angry. It spotted Lillian, who was only just starting to move towards Harry, and its eyes lit.
Shit! Spells that'll bring it down? Nothing a first year would know. Super speed? Super strength? Do trolls have souls? Wait! Harry focused and brought his full power to bear on the troll, hoping against hope that it could feel terror.
Harry was in luck. The troll let out a great moan and crouched down, grabbing at its head and consequently knocking itself out with its club.
Lillian turned at the moan and let out a terrified whimper as her legs gave out and she sunk to the floor. "Oh, Merlin. Oh, dear Merlin..." she whispered.
Harry hurried forward and knelt next to her. "Hey, it's okay. It's gone and knocked itself out, see? Silly trolls."
Lillian let out a strained laugh. "Yeah, I guess it did." She reached up and covered her face with one hand. "Oh, Merlin..."
There was the sound of running feet and McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell appeared in the doorway. As before, Quirrell whimpered and had to sit at the sight of the troll, but both Snape and McGonagall looked ready to kill.
"What are you two doing here?" McGonagall demanded. "You should be in your dormitories!"
Lillian was in no condition to answer, still in shock, so Harry turned to their professors with a blank face. "Mr Filch had Lillian in here for a detention, so she wasn't at the Feast. I came in here to get her and take her back to Ravenclaw until the all-clear was given."
"And you didn't think to just let a professor know, Potter?" Snape asked, lips curling with disgust. "Or do you think you're above such things?"
Harry raised one eyebrow at the Potions Master and replied, "I was under the impression that it was the professors' jobs to keep track of when their students have detentions, sir. I shouldn't have had to tell anyone, since you lot should have known there was a student about. But you all seemed much more concerned about apprehending the troll than the one student unawares in the trophy room. I figured someone should warn her."
Snape's face twisted with anger and he seemed about ready to rip into Harry for his implied insult, but McGonagall cut in before he could. "Very well, Mr Potter. Five points to Ravenclaw for thinking of a fellow student in danger. Now, you two need to head back to your dormitories."
Harry nodded and he touched Lillian's shoulder. "Can you stand?" he murmured.
Lillian nodded. "I think so."
They rose together, Harry poised to catch her if she stumbled. She was still a little shaky, but she was able to walk well enough on her own, so the two of them slipped past their professors and made their way to the staircases.
"Thanks," Lillian said as they were about to part. "You, uhm... You saved my life."
Harry grimaced at that; he hated life debts. "Don't worry about it. I did what anyone would have done."
Lillian smiled sadly. "Not anyone in Slytherin."
"Well, I guess it's good I'm not a Slytherin, then," Harry replied.
"Yeah, I guess so." The girl inclined her head, then started down the stairs towards the dungeons.
Harry rubbed at his eyes a bit tiredly, knocking his glasses askew. He really needed to get a handle on his 'saving people thing'.
Christmas holidays finally came around and Harry was the only first year Ravenclaw staying at Hogwarts. He'd actually debated going home, just to cause trouble for his relatives, but ended up deciding against it. He was perfectly capable of amusing himself at Hogwarts, and there were things he needed to do there, like catching Scabbers and looking into the Mirror of Erised.
Like his first Christmas, he went to bed excited about the next morning, but this time he actually expected presents, even if it was just his Cloak. When he awoke Christmas morning, he was quite pleased to find a pile of gifts at the end of his bed that far out-shone the pile he'd found in his last life.
From Dumbledore was the expected Cloak and the Dursleys had sent him a whole pound, rather than the fifty pence from before. Clearly, he'd scared them just enough that they were actually trying to stay in his good graces. Maybe he'd send them a galleon next year. (That should break Vernon properly.)
All of his Ravenclaw year mates except Morag had sent him something, as they'd all agreed to get each other something small. (Harry had gone with sweets for most of them, but bought Li an English dictionary and Terry a few pranks that were safe for use on mundanes.) Most of his year mates had gone the same route, getting him various chocolate confections, some mundane, some magical. Terry had got him a mundane book on history, Li a book on Chinese magic, and Stephen had drawn him an entire collage of various Ministry workers being hanged or burned at the stake, which Harry had quite the laugh over before hanging up next to the copy of Fudge.
He was surprised to receive gifts from outside his House, however, since he hadn't spent a lot of time with Hermione, Neville, or Lillian other than in classes or meeting in the library. Hermione had sent him a couple chocolate frogs and a pack of floss, which he laughed over. Neville sent him a leafy plant that didn't have any particular magical properties, but would prove difficult to kill. (As far as Neville was concerned, everyone should have a bit of green in their room.) Lillian had gifted him with a delicate glass lily and, after staring at it in awe for a few minutes, Harry gently set it on his bedside table.
Once all his gifts were put in their rightful places – the books on his book shelf, the pound in his money pouch, the Cloak in the most secure section of his trunk, and the sweets stuffed into a drawer – he pulled out an everyday robe and his shoes and shuffled down to breakfast.
After breakfast the day was looking to be quite boring without anyone to muck about with, so Harry gathered one of his new books and curled up in a corner of the Great Hall where a few other students were playing chess or cards while waiting for dinner. Once the food was served, Harry joined the table and laughingly pulled a few crackers with the students around him.
After dinner, Harry banished his cracker spoils and book back to his room, disillusioned himself, then set in to follow the Weasleys back up to Gryffindor. If the group of them went out into the snow like they had last time, Scabbers would be left in the dorm and Harry could grab him.
Indeed, after tossing their goodies into their rooms, Fred and George collected Percy and Ron and challenged both of them to a snowball fight, refusing to take no for an answer. Once the four of them were gone, Harry crept up to the first year boy's dorm and smiled grimly down at Wormtail, who had curled up for a nap on Ron's pillow.
"Imperio," Harry whispered, having decided it would be the easiest way to deal with the rat.
Once Peter had his orders – get to the Auror office and transform in front of them – and was off to do them, Harry started back out of the Gryffindor Tower.
Just as Harry reached the door, he remembered the Marauder's Map. The twins had it, and his life would be a million times easier with it in his hands. It was technically his, anyway, since his father and godfather had been two of the creators. But did he want to steal it now, or try to finagle the twins into giving it to him somewhere down the road?
Who am I kidding? Harry rolled his eyes, then dashed back up the stairs to the third year dorm. After casting about twenty detection spells on the door and disabling four pranks, Harry finally felt safe enough to open the door. When that didn't set anything off, he ran a few more detection spells on the floor, just in case. It never hurt to be paranoid, especially when dealing with the Weasley twins.
A point me directed him to Fred's trunk – well, to the trunk with Fred's name on it – and he found another two spells on that which he dismantled before popping it open. The Map was peeking out from under some dirty trousers and Harry sighed to himself before carefully removing it. A moment's genius had him quickly conjuring some paper and leaving a note of thanks from the next generation of Marauders and putting it back where the Map had been.
Map safely in his own pocket, Harry replaced all the spells on the trunk and the door to the room, then slid under a bed and used the shadows there to transport back into his own empty dorm. Once safe, he dropped his head back against the floor and quietly laughed to himself. That had almost been too easy.
Crawling out from under his bed, Harry pulled out the Map and touched his wand to it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Ink bled across the paper from where his wand was touching and the whole castle was spread out beneath him. The Weasleys were just returning from their snowball fight, making him glad he'd shadowed instead of walking out. He glanced around the Map, smiling to himself as he spotted various professors and students. His smile widened when he spotted Quirrell, who seemed to be walking in step with 'Tom Riddle'. Travelling through the secret entrance to the Honeydukes basement was 'Peter Pettigrew'.
The Map also showed the mysterious third floor and its series of traps. Fluffy stood guard at the entrance and the troll was apparently named Bimboble.
Harry stayed watching the Map until Peter had disappeared off the edge, then deactivated it and slipped it into his trunk with his Cloak. He then pulled out a book to read until tea.
After tea, when everyone else was stumbling to their beds, Harry pulled out his Cloak and, after checking to see that Dumbledore was indeed waiting for him in the room with the Mirror of Erised, pulled the Cloak on and slipped through the halls to an acceptable starting point.
Harry was actually a little worried about what he'd see in the Mirror. After all, he'd once had it all – a family, his choice job, peace – and then he'd lost everything. Now, here he was, trying to save the world from a fate not-yet realised. What was his deepest desire?
When he finally made it into the room, he stopped just shy of the Mirror's range and steeled himself. Then he stepped forward and looked up.
He wasn't in the image showed to him, but all his friends from his old life were playing together on the lawn in front of Hogwarts, laughing. They looked free and peaceful and Harry relaxed. His most heartfelt desire was for his friends and family to be happy, even if he couldn't be a part of that happiness. That was something he could live with.
He reached out and touched the mirror over Ginny's figure. "I miss you," he whispered, voice catching. "I'll never forget you."
In the corner, Albus Dumbledore vaguely wondered who Harry was seeing in the Mirror. Who did the boy speak to with such a broken voice? Who had he known that he'd already lost? A childhood friend, perhaps?
Albus was just glad the boy knew love, for what else would bring such pain to a child's voice. He was glad that leaving Harry with the Dursleys hadn't turned him into another Tom Riddle; the world would never survive two of them.
Every night Harry checked the Map before bed, looking to see if Dumbledore was in the building. Like Voldemort had during his last life, Harry didn't want to go after the Stone while the Headmaster was in the building, as he'd surely sense any attempt. However, Harry, unlike Voldemort, was patient. He had all term to try, and with Peter Pettigrew on his way to turn himself in, Dumbledore would be leaving the building soon enough.
The night the other students returned, Harry's luck came through. The Headmaster hadn't been at the feast – something that a number of people commented on – and a check of the Map once he was back up in his dorm showed that the man was still out.
Harry had spent the past few days sorting through memories of his original first year, especially memories of the adventure at the end of the year. He was relatively certain that he would be able to shadow into the room with the potions, if not the one with the Mirror.
Once his roommates were all asleep, Harry closed the curtains around his bed and shadowed to the room with the Mirror. As soon as he appeared, torches around the room lit, dispersing any shadows. "Figures," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. He'd have to backtrack to the room with the potions to shadow out, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Harry firmly set it in his mind that he only wanted the Stone to protect it – he wasn't sure wanting it to ensure his own life would work for the enchantment – then stepped in front of the Mirror.
The image in the Mirror flickered between his family and friends playing and his reflection for a long moment, not really settling on one or the other. Harry closed his eyes and focused on the need to protect. Not necessarily the need to protect the Stone, just the need to protect something. To protect the future.
The magic in the room surged and Harry held out his hand. Something settled into his open palm and he smiled down at the Stone. He'd done it.
He slipped into the room with the potions in it and slipped under the table where the shadow was just large enough for him to squeeze back to his own room. The Stone was slipped into the secure compartment with his Cloak and the Map, then Harry crawled into bed, feeling quite accomplished.
"Wh-what do you w-want P-P-Potter?" Quirrell asked once the last student had filed out of the room and only Harry was left sitting at his normal spot. It had been rather trying to get Terry and Li to leave without him, but they'd eventually agreed. Harry even had the parchment they'd scribbled their agreements on, which he'd spelled earlier to act like something of a binding magical contract when a specific phrase was written. Perhaps a little unfair, but Harry couldn't chance anyone overhearing this conversation.
Harry slipped his wand into his hand under his desk and silently cast a silencing ward on the door, then glanced up at the professor and said, "I'd like to speak with your master. I have a business proposition for him."
Quirrell gave a nervous little laugh and paled a shade. "M-my M-M-Master?" he repeated.
Harry smiled coldly. "The one on the back of your head," he agreed. "I believe he answers to Lord Voldemort?"
Quirrell opened his mouth to stutter out another excuse, but a high voice from under the turban said, "You know of me, boy?"
Harry held up one hand to pick under his nails, completely unconcerned. "Of course I know of you. Every time Quirrell turns his back to me, my scar burns." A complete lie, as his Occlumency was protecting him. "I was rather confused by the phenomenon for the longest time, but I eventually put the pieces together."
Voldemort let out a high cackle and his host cringed. "How very like a Ravenclaw," the Dark Lord commented. "Quirrell, let me see him."
"Master–" Quirrell tried.
"Now, Quirrell," Voldemort ordered.
Harry glanced up over his nails as the Defence teacher slowly turned in his chair and unwrapped his head. Once he was uncovered, Voldemort looked at Harry, who met his gaze without fear. "Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, a dark smile tugging at his lips.
"Lord Voldemort," Harry replied neutrally.
"You don't fear me," the Dark Lord realised. "Why is that?"
Harry raised one eyebrow. "You're a parasite attached to the back of my Defence teacher's head, why would I fear you?" he retorted. Before Voldemort could say anything to that, Harry added, "Anyway, the shield that formed around me thanks to my mother's sacrifice is still in effect. Perhaps you could curse me, but if you try touching me, your host's body will turn to ash. And then you'd have to go find another poor sod to inhabit."
Quirrell choked in surprise or fear, Harry wasn't sure which. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the boy, who offered him a smirk. After a moment of staring, Voldemort said, "You mentioned a business proposition?"
Harry shrugged one shoulder. "You promise not to try killing me while I'm enrolled at Hogwarts, I hand over the Philosopher's Stone."
Quirrell choked again as Voldemort hissed, "What makes you think I want that worthless Stone?"
Harry just smirked at him in response.
Quirrell let out a whimper and Harry could just hear Voldemort hissing, "You're giving me away, you worthless fool!"
Harry stood from his chair and Voldemort's attention was immediately back on him as he picked up his school bag. "Let me know when you're ready to agree to the deal," he said, turning towards the door. "I've got all year."
Voldemort let out an angry hiss. "Sit back down, boy!"
Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, are you done trying to play with me now? Because if you're not going to agree to my terms, you won't get the Stone."
"You think I'm stupid enough to believe a mere boy has access to the Stone? We both know it's down the forbidden third floor corridor. Don't you dare try treating me as–"
Voldemort's angry tirade died off as Harry pulled the Stone out of his school bag and smiled. "Don't mistake me for some clueless child, Lord Voldemort. Such mistakes will only see to your downfall. I wouldn't bother coming to you if I didn't already have the item I wished to trade." He set the stone on the nearest desk top and covered it with his hand. "Do we have an accord?"
"And if we don't?" Voldemort asked, but Harry had fought the Dark Lord long enough to know when he'd won. Voldemort was just stalling at that point.
"Then I suppose I'll just have to sell it to the highest bidder," Harry decided. "People would pay anything for a Philosopher's Stone, you know." He smiled coldly, eyes flashing with his power. "Even their soul."
A shiver went down Quirrell's back as the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at the eerie boy at the back of the room. "We have an accord," he ground out, knowing he had no choice.
Magic snapped in the room, binding them both to their word. Voldemort's eyes widened, having not expected that to have been a binding contract, but Harry just stepped forward and set the Stone on the desk, commenting, "You didn't honestly think I'd let you get away with a verbal promise, did you?" Then he turned and left the room, the door falling shut behind him with a soft click.
Voldemort was left staring down at the Philosopher's Stone, greed in his eyes. Perhaps the boy had won this round, but that just gave the Dark Lord seven years to plot the boy's death. And maybe he could get Harry un-enrolled from the school and kill him before the boy was ready. It shouldn't be too hard.
"I wonder what happened to Professor Quirrell," Li commented once the train was under way. She, Terry, and Harry had all settled into a compartment together so they could enjoy their last hours with one another before summer.
"Who cares," Terry grunted. "He was worthless as a teacher anyway."
Harry smiled a bit. The Defence teacher had remained in the school until February before he finally left. Harry had been impressed that Voldemort had managed to wait that long to use the Stone, but knowing the bastard, he'd spent his time figuring out how to use the Stone and assuring it was the real thing.
Harry was kind of excited to be going home this summer, for once. Sirius had been freed after a great deal of dithering in the Ministry. He was currently at St Mungo's, recuperating. Word from the healers was that he'd be able to claim guardianship of Harry by the end of the summer, if not sooner, and the ex-convict had been writing Harry shaky letters for the past three months, telling him about himself and asking Harry to share his own stories, which he happily did.
This would be his last summer with the Dursleys – unless Dumbledore stuck his nose into things – and Harry fully intended to make it hell for them. He might even put Vernon out of his misery, if the whale irritated him enough.
"What're you doing this summer?" Terry asked both of them.
"My father and I are going back to China for a visit," Li replied, beaming. "I have missed my cousins very much."
"I'll be enjoying my last summer with my relatives," Harry announced.
"You're just going to end up in the nearest library. Admit it," Terry shot back.
Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Probably, yeah. What about you, then?"
Terry grimaced. "Avoiding my brother," he admitted.
"Don't tell your parents you can't use magic," Harry suggested. "As long as you don't actually do any magic, you'll be okay. And maybe your brother'll lay off if he thinks you'll retaliate with magic."
Terry sighed. "It's worth a shot," he agreed.
"I will see if my father is willing to let me bring a friend. There will be language troubles, I think, but it will be better than putting up with your brother."
"And you'll get to test your Mandarin!" Harry agreed, leaning forward. "That would be so amazing. Admit it."
Terry smiled a bit at that. "Yeah, it would. But you're so much better than me, Harry."
Harry waved the compliment away. "I've been studying it longer. You're not doing too bad for someone who's only been learning it for five and a half months."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly," Li and Harry chorused.
Terry nodded. "Then, yeah, if your dad's okay with it and my parents agree. I'd love to visit China."
Li offered him a beaming smile, then turned to Harry. "I would offer to bring you, too, but..."
Harry waved the apology away. "You'll just have to take me next year or something. I'm sure Sirius will agree to it."
"Your godfather seems so cool," Terry complained. "I wish mine was half that cool."
"What is cool about being in prison for ten years?" Li wondered.
"Not that bit," Terry said, laughing. "Come on, Li, you've read his letters. The man's completely insane, but in a wicked awesome way!"
Li sighed and shook her head. She hadn't much cared for Sirius as he portrayed himself in his letters. Harry had to admit that his godfather did come across as ridiculously childish, but he'd started getting better once they assigned him a mind healer back in March. And Harry was more than capable of taking care of himself, so he didn't much mind that Sirius was still a bit mad; he'd rather have a crazy older brother than a parent, anyway.
A knock came at their compartment door before sliding open to admit Lillian who glanced at Terry and Li briefly before focussing on Harry. "Were you intending to part without even a word to me?" she accused.
"Oh, piss off, Moon," Terry muttered, frowning.
Harry rolled his eyes at his friends. Terry was mundane-born and Lillian's family was just Dark enough that she hated him for his blood, and Terry was just proud enough of his mundane parents to hate her for her prejudice. Harry mostly ignored the two of them, refusing to deal with what he saw as a childish rivalry, but Li often poked fun at Terry when Lillian wasn't around for how much like a jealous boyfriend he acted over sharing Harry's friendship.
Lillian sniffed at Terry. "Something smells in here."
"You two are so bloody immature," Harry muttered, earning a giggle from Li. He stood and moved towards the door. "I'll be back," he promised Terry when the boy opened his mouth to complain. "I'd like to say goodbye to Hermione and Nev before we reach the station, too."
Terry settled down at that, as he actually kind of liked the two Gryffindors. He and Li didn't actually spend any time with Hermione and Neville, but neither of them had anything against them, either. It was just that most students didn't make friends outside their own House, and the friendships that did form didn't last long. Harry was just determined enough that his friendships with Hermione, Neville, and Lillian hadn't really been left to die off. (It helped that he already knew Hermione and Neville far better than either of them knew themselves. And he'd saved Lillian's life, so the Slytherin was determined to keep up with him.)
Out in the hallway, Harry let Lillian lead the way. "I don't know why you put up with so many mudbloods," Lillian complained.
Harry rolled his eyes at the insult, but didn't care enough to bother arguing it when the people in question weren't there to complain. "Hermione and Terry are both fine people. If you ever bothered to look past their blood statuses, you might actually see people you like."
"Not likely," Lillian muttered, shoving the door to her compartment open.
Millicent, Tracey, and Morag all glanced up at their entrance and Morag sighed. "Lil, must you insisted on forcing Potter on us?"
"So much for House loyalty," Harry retorted, already used to his fellow Ravenclaw's dislike of himself. "You know, Morag, if you really hated the lot of us so much, you should have argued harder with the Hat."
"Go get stuffed, Potter."
Harry grinned at the girl and leaned back against the closed door as Lillian took her seat. "How long is a suitable goodbye?"
"Longer than you've been here," Lillian retorted. "What do you intend to do for your summer?"
"Torment my relatives until they admit themselves to the loony bin," Harry said without pause. "Hopefully move in with my godfather before September. Why?"
Lillian smiled faintly while the other two Slytherins chortled at Harry's flippant remark about his relatives and Morag rolled her eyes. "My birthday's August seventeenth and I was hoping you'd come to the party," Lillian offered.
Morag moaned. "Come on, Lil!"
"I'll do my best," Harry promised. "Send me an invitation and I'll let you know once I figure out what's happening with Sirius."
"You can't reply any later than a week before," Millicent warned. "And it's a bit rude to wait even that long."
Harry inclined his head in thanks. "I should know for sure by the first," he promised.
"That's acceptable," Lillian decided. "And I suppose you can go visit your mudblood and Longbottom now."
"Thank you for freeing me, Majesty," Harry teased.
"Leave faster, Potter!"
Harry chuckled as Lillian turned on Morag with a scowl. He slipped out the door and a quick point me directed him to the compartment Hermione and Neville were sitting in. "Knock, knock," he said, poking his head inside.
"Trevor!" Neville shouted in warning.
Harry darted his hand out and caught the toad before he could make good on his escape. "You're such a naughty toad," he told Trevor as he slipped into the compartment and dropped into the open seat next to Hermione. "One of these days your escape is going to land you in someone's stomach, you know. You'll make Neville very sad, but I'm sure he'll get over it after a month–"
"Leave Neville alone, you idiot," Hermione muttered, elbowing Harry in the side.
Neville held out his hands for his toad, who Harry handed over with a grin. "Don't listen to him, Trevor. He's just trying to scare us."
Harry chuckled and leaned back against the backrest. "So, hi. What are you two up to this summer? Other than devouring books and kicking useless gardeners out of the greenhouse?"
Neville laughed at that while Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's pretty much it," the Gryffindor boy replied. "Maybe a small party for me, but I'm not sure what Gran's planning there."
"Well, if she opens it to your awesome friends, feel free to send me an invite. I could do with a break from my relatives," Harry offered.
Hermione sighed. "I don't understand why you dislike your family so much, Harry. I really don't."
Harry waved a hand at her, having long ago given up trying to explain the Dursleys to her. The fact was that they hadn't been as horrible this time around and he didn't spend as much time with Hermione as he had before. He'd tried a few times to explain that they were absolutely the worst sort of people, but all that Hermione seemed to get was that he didn't like them. (He loved Hermione, truly he did, but she could be difficult about some of the strangest things.)
"So, other than avoiding your relatives, what are you up to this summer?" Neville asked.
"Waiting for Sirius to be cleared from Mungo's," Harry said, grinning. "If he gets out in time for my – our – birthday I'll see about throwing a party and inviting you two."
"As long as Moon isn't there," Hermione muttered, being about as fond of Lillian as the Slytherin was of her.
"And watch my party break out into a war? Not going to happen. She'll forgive me if I don't invite her."
Neville covered a grin. "We'll have to plan our parties around each other, then," he pointed out.
"Should be fun," Harry agreed, standing. "Well, I'd best head back to Terry and Li before they hunt me down. If I don't see you two over the summer, I'll see you on the train."
"Have a good summer!" Hermione called as Harry stepped out into the hall.
He waved back at them, made sure Trevor hadn't made another escape attempt, then made his way back to his own compartment for the rest of the trip. His summer was already looking to be quite full. He just hoped Dobby the house-elf didn't ruin it.