Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Harry had a blank Hogsmeade slip, no where to sleep and the vision of a ballooned Marge floating away into the night.

At least, the last one would give him something to say when people asked him what he did this summer. Unless, his luck followed him and he got a notice about him violating the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry for using magic outside of Hogwarts.

There were probably people there now, obliviating memories and restoring Marge.

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen now? Expulsion? Could he be arrested and kicked out of the wizarding world? Harry was laying out a rather detailed contingency plan when he felt someone or something watching him.

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand. In the bushes, Harry saw, quite distinctly the hulking outline of something very large, with wide gleaming eyes.

Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he fell. His wand flew out of his hand and then a deafening BANG!!. With a yell Harry rolled back onto the pavement, a sudden blinding light taking over his vision. Harry stared up at the large, purple bus that had appeared out of thin air. The lettering on the side spelled, The Knight Bus.

“What ya doin’ down there?” the attendant asked after he was finished with his introduction.

“Fell over,” Harry replied. The young guy, Stan, sniggered.

“’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed. His jeans were torn and his hand was bleeding, but he hadn’t forgotten about what had startled him the first place.

“’Choo you lookin’ at?” said Stan.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, though he clearly remembered the dog but it was bigger than any dog he had ever seen. He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Woss that on your ‘ead?” said Stan abruptly.

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them.

“Woss your name?” Stan persisted.

“Neville Longbottom,” said Harry quickly, saying the first name that came into his head. “What is this thing?” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”

“Yep,” said Stan proudly, “anywhere you like, long as it’s on land. You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ‘and called dincha?”

“Yes,” said Harry quickly. “How much would it be to get me to London?”

“Eleven sickles,” said Stan. “but for fifteen you get ‘ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ‘ot water bottle ‘an a toofbrush in the color of your choice.”

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money then boarded the bus. Oddly, there were no seats on the bus, but a half dozen brass beds stood beside curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets by each bed. In one bed, a sleeping wizard was hissing and talking in his sleep. Harry took a bed close to the driver.

“This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern,” Stan introduced. Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses nodded to Harry, who tried to subtlety flatten his bangs before sitting on his assigned bed.

“Take ‘er away Ern,” said Stan. There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the knight bus, Harry got up and looked out the window.

“How come the Muggles don’t notice the bus?”

“Them!” said Stan contemptuously. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nutting, they don’.”

Harry looked to his left and spotted an issue of the Prophet. But….that was the man he had seen on the news. Harry held the paper up to the candle light and read “Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban’s fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today”.

“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

“Well, really, I had to don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad, magic on muggles. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it…who’d believe him if he did?”

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun, the Magical Community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry looked into the shadowed face of Sirius Black, the only part of that sunken face that seemed alive.

“Scary lookin’ fing, inee’,” said Stan, who had been watching Harry read.

“Did he really murder thirteen people with one curse?”

“Yep,” said Stan, “in front of witnesses and in broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?”

“Ar,” said Ern darkly.

“Black was a big supporter of You-Know-‘O,” he said.

“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking.

Even Stan’s pimples went white and it wasn’t because Ernie had jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

“Choo say ‘is name for?” yelped Stan.

“Sorry,” said Harry hastily. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?” said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ‘earts goin’ that fast…” Harry gave him a look that said continue. After Stan stopped shaking he went on.

“Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who. All of his supporters were tracked down, weren’t they, Ern? Most of them knew it was all over wiv You-Know-Who gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I ‘eard he thought ‘ed be second in command once You-Know-‘O had taken over. They cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles that got in the way. An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

“What?” said Harry.

“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An when reinforcements from the Ministry got here, ‘e went wiv ‘em as anything still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. Cos’ ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…”

“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?” Stan said. “’Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened Ern?”

“Gas explosion,” grunted Ernie.

“An’ now e’s out,” said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black’s gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards eh, Ern?”

Ernie suddenly shivered.

“Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles”

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t imagine what Stan would be telling future passengers about him in the future.

Hadn’t Harry done the same thing Sirius Black had done, broken Wizarding Law? Would he end up in Azkaban for doing what he did to Aunt Marge? Harry would never forget the look on Hagrid’s face when he came back from Azkaban? The terror when he found out that he was going in the first place, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people that Harry knew. How many times had he willing went into the Forbidden Forest, and dealt with the creatures that lived within?

Soon, the bus stopped at a familiar place, The Leaky Cauldron. Harry grabbed his trunk and got off the bus.

“There you are, Harry,” said a voice. Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!”

Harry looked up at the owner of the hand, and into the face of one Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. “What did ya call Neville, Minister?” he said excitedly.

“Neville?” the Minister repeated, frowning. “This is Harry Potter.”

“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully at an exhausted looking Fudge.

“Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!”

“Yes,” sad Fudge testily, before thanking Stan and Ernie and leading Harry into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the owner, asked them if they needed anything.

“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry’s shoulder.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly.

“Thanks,” said Harry, pre-empting Stan’s obvious questions.

“Bye, Neville!” called Stan as Fudge led him into a small parlor.

“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire. “Harry, I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.” Harry nodded, though of course, he already knew; he had seen Fudge once before last year in Hagrid’s hut. Tom returned wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets.

Harry wondered who else he had misplaced by his late night travels. “Well, Harry,” said Fudge, pouring out the tea. “You’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think…but you’re safe, and that’s what matters. Eat, Harry,” he ordered, pushing a crumpet toward him.

“Now, you’ll be pleased to know that two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Pivet Drive and Ms. Margorie Dursley has been returned to her normal size.” Harry didn’t want to tell the man that he couldn’t care less.

“And she now has no memory of the incident.”

Harry also had to bite his tongue at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon agreeing to take him back next summer as long as he stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter.

“They are extremely angry, but that should lessen by next summer.”

Harry seriously doubted it. He knew he’d be in for it, but decided to put it out of his mind until then.

“And I’m sure you are fond of each other,,,er….very deep down. So, all remains is to decide where you’re going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I’d suggest taking a room here.”

“But sir,” Harry interrupted. “What about my punishment? The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry.”

There was no point in putting it off.

“Punishment?” Fudge blinked. “Oh, dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge. “It was an accident. We’d be quite busy if we sent everyone to Azkaban who accidentally blew up one of their family members.”

“But sir,” none of this made sense. “Last year, I got an official warning because a house elf preformed magic in my house. The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if it happened again.”

Fudge shifted in his seat, looking supremely awkward.

“Circumstances change, Harry, we have to take into account several…well, in the present env… Surely, you don’t want to be expelled?”

“Of course not, sir,” said Harry.

“Well, then, there we have it,” said Fudge, offering him a crumpet like that was all that needed to be said. Fudge escorted him to his room where Hedwig was waiting for him.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted her.

“Smart owl you have there,” chuckled Tom. “She arrived five minutes after you did. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He gave another bow and left.

Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. As the sun began to rise Harry could hardly believe that he had left Pivet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks.

And without removing his glass, he slumped back onto his bed and fell asleep.

Harry wasn’t used to having so much freedom. He could do what he wanted and eat what he wanted as long as he stayed neared Diagon Alley. He had promised Fudge and he saw no need to break that promise, but everywhere he went he kept hearing the same thing. Sirius Black. “Personally, I won’t let any of the children out alone until he’s back in Azkaban,” Harry heard one diner saying at dinner.

After stopping by Gringotts, he overheard a few wizards speaking excitedly about something near Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry walked with them.

“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging of his father’s arm.

“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favorites for the World Cup.”

Harry moved forward to look at the sign.

THE FIREBOLT

Harry read the sign to himself. State of the art racing broom, superfine handle of ash, top speed 150 miles an hour, Price upon request.

Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life, but he had never lost a match on the school brooms before and it wasn’t like he was playing anymore anyways. Harry didn’t ask for the price that day, but he did return, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. Potions ingredients and he had to stop off by Madam Malkins to get some new school robes, since his were now several inches to short. Next, Harry had to get his school books. He would be starting Divination and Care of Magical Creatures this year, and didn’t quite know how he felt about the extra classes.

As the days went by Harry started looking wherever he went for any sign of his friends. He had already ran into Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan who had also stopped by to ogle at the new Firebolt. He had also ran into Neville Longbottom outside of Flourish and Blotts. Harry would have stopped to chat, but he had seen Neville’s rather formidable looking grandmother scolding Neville for apparently losing his books list. Harry took his out of his pocket, and dropped it outside of the door. At least, maybe then, if Neville forgot it at home, he might be saved.

The last day of the holiday, Harry got up, and found an owl outside his window. He opened the letter at read it quickly. It was from Marcus Flint, Harry’s old Quidditch Captain.

Practice is the first weekend after classes return. If you haven’t been preparing this summer like I instructed, I will know and you will pay.

The letter was signed with two letters M and F. On another piece of paper, was a personal note to Harry.

Snape has lifted your suspension. You will be coming back as Seeker on a temporary basis. Owl me if you don’t think you can keep up. Don’t waste my time, Potter.

Harry could almost hear Flint’s gruff voice and hurriedly wrote out a reply and sent it with the large black owl who had been watching him rather cautiously from the window.

“There you go,” he said and watched the hulking owl fly off into the distance. He had to get into town, the Firebolt was waiting. He was wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned.

“Harry! HARRY!”

It was Ron and Hermione, sitting outside Florean Fortesue’s Ice Cream Parlor. Ron, too, looked like he had to stop by Madam Malkin’s shop. Harry didn’t think it was possible, but Ron was even taller than he was last year.

“Finally,” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, mate, we’ve been everywhere.”

“Ah,” Harry started to explain then. “Wait, how did you know I was staying at the Leaky?”

“Dad,” said Ron simply.

That’s it, then, Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry and definitely would have heard about what happened to Aunt Marge, but then wouldn’t that mean?

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious tone.

Harry simply nodded under her glare, while Ron roared with laughter beside her.

“It’s not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.”

“So am I,” admitted Harry. “I thought they were going to send me Azkaban.” He looked at Ron. “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s you, isn’t it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mom would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well.”

“Wait,” said Ron, pulling something from his pocket. “Look at this. Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing unicorn tail-hair.”

Harry nodded, glad his friend had gotten a new wand after the Willow incident last year. “And we’ve got all our books,” Ron said.

“Whoa, Hermione, why do you have all these extras?” Harry asked her.

“Well, I’m taking more classes than you, aren’t I?” said Hermione. “Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies….”

“But you’re Muggle-born!” exclaimed Ron. “You mom and dad are Muggles. You already know all about Muggles.”

“Yes,” huffed Hermione, like she had already explained this once. “But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the Wizarding point of view,” she said, and her tone reminded him sharply of Millicent.

“Are you planning to sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, as they walked on. Hermione had gotten some birthday money and had wanted to stop off and see about getting herself an owl. Harry knew of Ron’s family’s trip to Egypt this summer, apparently Mr. Weasley had won something at the Ministry, but he didn’t know that the trip had worn out Ron’s rat, Scabbers.

The group stopped off at a magical creature shop to see if anything could be done for Scabbers and so Hermione could look for an owl that she had been wanting. As Hermione headed to the back of the shop off in search of a sale’s assistant, Harry went with Ron to the counter.

“It’s my rat,” he told the witch. “He’s been a bit off color ever since I brought him back from Egypt.”

The witch pulled a pair of heavy black spectacles from her pocket as Ron placed Scabbers on the counter.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was second hand, once belonging to Percy, and a bit battered at that. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

“How old is the rat?”

“Dunno,” said Ron. “Quite old. He used to belong to my brother.”

“What powers does he have?” said the witch, examining Scabbers closely.

“Er….” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch’s eyes moved from Scabber’s tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

“He’s been through the mill, this one,” she said.

“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” said Ron defensively. “An ordinary or common garden rat like this can’t be expected to live longer than three years or so, but if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these.”

Harry scoffed at the sale’s assistant.

“He doesn’t want a new rat,” Harry said reading Ron’s expression.

“Yeah,” said Ron, thankful to Harry for backing him up against the pushy sale’s assistant.

After refusing to buy a new rat, the witch offered up a bottle of rat tonic.

“Okay,” said Ron. “How much….OUCH!”

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

“NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!” cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door. Scabbers raced out the door and Harry and Ron followed. After finding Scabbers near a bin outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron pocketed the shaking rat into his pocket.

Harry turned around at the sound of Hermione’s voice calling to them, and his mouth went slack jawed.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” said Hermione glowing at the enormous orange cat that she had cradled in her arms.

“You bought that monster?” said Ron, his mouth hanging open, matching Harry’s. “Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!”

“He didn’t mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” said Hermione.

“And what about Scabbers?” said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. “He needs rest and relaxation if he’s ever going to get better and how’s he going to do that with that thing around?”

“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” said Hermione, slipping the small red bottle into Ron’s hand. “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what’s the problem. Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages; no one wanted him.”

“I wonder why?” said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

They found Mr. Weasley sitting at the bar, reading the Daily Prophet, Sirius Black’s photo on the cover.

“Harry!” he said, smiling as he looked up. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” said Harry as they joined Mr. Weasley.

“They still haven’t caught him, then?” he asked.

“No,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.”

“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” asked Ron. “It’d be good to get some more money….”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. “Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you mark my words.”

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasley’s youngest child and only girl, Ginny. Ginny waved at Harry, while Percy walked straight over to Harry and took his hand.

“Good to see you, Harry. I hope you’re well.”

“Very well, thanks, Percy,” Harry replied with a smile, remembering the events of last year. Percy looked better and as Fred and George threw themselves over Percy’s shoulders to get to Harry to say hello, it looked like that relationship was still running smoothly, too.

“Harry!” said Fred. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy….”

“Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. He then pulled Harry and Percy into a hug.

“No more snakes this year, boys, I don’t think my poor heart can take it. I mean, except for you Harry,” George joked and both Harry and Percy rolled their eyes.

“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty seat. “Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride.

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven’t made you two prefects.”

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “I’d take all the…..”

“Those two?” a voice said from the top of the stairs. “Dumbledore would have had to truly lose it to make you two anything close to prefects.”

Millicent Bulstrode walked down the stairs, quickly, and Harry moved forward to greet her. He hadn’t seen her all summer and boy had she changed. Her once long brown hair had been cut shoulder length and though she had it parted down the middle Harry could see that underneath her hair, that both sides had been shaved. She flipped it over to the left side, and Harry saw that he was right. Not only that, but the very ends of her hair had been charmed to be a sunny blonde color. No, longer did she look like the prim Pureblood girl that she had last year, but a wicked witch. She almost looked Muggle.

“Hey, Harry,” she said, and Harry hugged her, his arms going around her still large frame.

“Millicent,” Harry sighed, just happy to see his friend again. He released a breath, Millicent putting him at ease the way few other people could.

“Your hair,” said Harry.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, touching her hair like she had forgotten that it had changed at all. “My mother nearly had a coronary, but it was almost time for school anyway so I figured why not. I know it’s not blowing up my aunt, but a little bit of teenage rebellion never killed anyone, yet,” she smiled and Harry laughed.

“What is it you were saying, Bulstrode, we could be prefects if we wanted to,” said Fred, moving towards them.

“Yeah, right, Weasley, and this place isn’t the hovel I think it is.” Millicent looked around the rather dingy looking tables and chairs in the Leaky and shuddered.

“Then why are you here?” Fred asked. “Believe me when I say no one would miss you.”

Millicent laughed. “Little Ginny tells it different, there, Freddie. She said you couldn’t stop talking about me this summer.”

George behind Fred started giggling into his shoulder.

“Ha…ha,” Fred scoffed. “Only discussing horrible ways for you to fall down a well, or get eaten by a dragon or carried off by pixies….” Fred listed.

“Oh, Freddie,” Millicent said. “Sweet talk will get you nowhere.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked her before Fred could come up with anything else. “The Minister asked me too,” she said. “Someone had to be on call to watch the dangerous Harry Potter, and while I tried to pass on those duties, Fudge thought I was the only one fit for the job.”

“Ha, Ha,” mocked Harry. He got the feeling that Millicent wasn’t telling him everything, but regardless, it was still nice to see his friend. Then Harry noticed a rather extravagant looking emerald and gold ring on her finger.

“New jewelry?” he asked.

And Mrs. Weasley looked over.

“Oh, dear,” she said to Millicent. “Millicent that is simply beautiful. Congratulations, my dear.”

“It’s simply barbaric,” said Fred, clearly disgusted by the small, expensive looking ring.

“Why the congratulations?” asked Harry. “And the hatred? Isn’t is just a ring?”

Millicent rolled her eyes while simultaneously glaring at Fred. Harry would have to ask her how she did that later.

“It’s a pre-bonding ring,” said Millicent.

“Malfoy gave you that?” Harry asked, suddenly thinking the ring wasn’t that nice after all.

“Yes,” said Millicent simply. “Gifts are normally exchanged when a marriage arrangement has gone on for so long. It’s a sign that both parties are taking things seriously. Draco sent it to me over the summer, and I haven’t taken it off since.”

“It’s traditional,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“It’s ridiculous,” said Fred.

“Now, now, Fred,” said George. “It’s just a ring.”

“It’s not,” said Fred. “If you’re telling him, you might as well tell him everything that it can do. Tell little Harry here, that not only that you haven’t taken it off, but that you can’t take it off.”

“What?” asked Harry, shocked. “Malfoy cursed that ring onto your finger.”

“No,” said Millicent indignantly. “I can take it off just fine.”

“Yeah, but if you do then that automatically means that your uh, arrangement is broken.”

So, the C word was taboo for the Weasleys too.

“Which is why I won’t be taking it off, my parents decided that I should accept this..gift, so I have done so…”

“Like the precious little pureblood princess that you are.”

“I’m the princess?” said Millicent. “Really, because out of the two of us I would say that you are the….”

And before the pair could verge off into another shouting match, Harry cut in.

“What else does it do?” he asked.

“It’s imbued with a number of charms and enchantments,” explained Millicent. “A mild protection spell, a notification spell, a….”

“A tracking spell,” Fred supplied. “That means that no matter where she is, that Malfoy can find her. In case she gets spooked by the little ghoul and decides to make it a run for it before he can cattle her down the aisle.”

“But that’s,” started Harry. “That’s…”

“Barbaric? Something out of the middle ages? Something no normal person would agree to?”

Millicent rolled her eyes, and George, wisely, changed the subject.

“How are we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” asked George as they all dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding at dinner that evening.

“The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,” said Mr. Weasley.

Everyone looked up at him.

“Why?” said Percy curiously.

“Yeah,” said Fred. “I know certain parents treat their Slytherin’s preciously, but I didn’t know they hire out cars from the Ministry just to make sure they can get to school alright.”

Millicent just smiled at him, mouth full of chocolate pudding.

“Well, as we haven’t got one anymore,” said Mr. Weasley, “….and as I work there, they’re doing me a favor.”

His voice was casual, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that Mr. Weasley’s ears had gone red, just like Ron’s did when he was under pressure. Millicent looked at him from the corner of her eye, and he could tell that she, too, thought something else wasn’t right.

“Good thing, too,” said Mrs. Weasley briskly. “Do you realize how much luggage you’ve all got between you? A nice sight you’d be on the Muggle Underground…You are all packed, aren’t you?”

“Ron hasn’t put all his new things in his trunk yet,” said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. “He’s dumped them on my bed.”

“You’d better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won’t have time in the morning,” Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

As Harry was walking to his room, he overhead some yelling from Percy and Ron’s room. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve found my badge!” yelled Percy.

His Head Boy badge was missing and apparently so was Scabber’s rat tonic. Harry offered to head back downstairs and see if he could find it for Ron.

Harry was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s. He hesitated not wanting them to know he’d heard them arguing, when the sound of his own name made him stop then move closer to the parlor door.

“….makes no sense not to tell him,” Mr. Weasley was saying. “Harry’s got a right to know. I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but be insists on treating Harry like a child. He’s thirteen years old….”

“He’s happy not knowing,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “And safer.”

“I don’t want him to be miserable, I just want him to be on guard!” returned Mr. Weasley. “You know what Harry and the boys are like. After everything the last two years. But Harry can’t do things like that this year. When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn’t picked him up, I’m prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.”

“But he’s not dead, he’s fine, so what’s the point, he’ll be safe at Hogwarts.”

“Molly, they say Sirius Black is mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. It’s been a month and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the prophet, we are no closer to catching him now then we were then. As far as Hogwarts, if Black can break out of Azkaban he can certainly break into Hogwarts.”

“But no one’s really sure that Black’s after Harry…”

There was a thud on the wood, and Harry was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

“Molly, they didn’t want to report it in the press to keep it quiet, but Fudge was at Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words. ‘He’s at Hogwarts…he’s at Hogwarts.’ Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back into power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years in Azkaban to brood on that…”

“Well, Arthur,” said Mrs.Weasley. “You have to do what you think is right, but you’re forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?”

“Of course he knows. We asked him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrance to the school ground. He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed. Dumbledore isn’t too fond of the Azkaban guards. Nor am I, if it comes to that, but when you’re dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.”

“If they save Harry….”

“…then I will never say another word against them,” said Mr. Weasley wearily. Harry heard some chairs move, and scurried off down the stairs where he found the rat tonic. By the time he returned to the room, Percy had found his badge underneath all of Ron’s things. Harry handed Ron the tonic and went to bed.

So Sirius Black was after him. That explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He’d made Harry promise to stay in Diagon where plenty of wizards were there to keep an eye on him. And they were getting Ministry cars the next day because Harry was with them.

Harry laid in bed, and wondered why he didn’t feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought harry would be panicked if he knew the truth, but Harry agreed with Mrs. Weasley. Only a fool would try to get into Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore still there. Didn’t people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black as Voldemort’s right hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

Then there were the guards everyone kept talking back, surely Black’s chances at getting by all of that was remote if not impossible.

No, now, all Harry could think about was that his chances of going to Hogsmeade now seemed even worse than they did before.

The journey to King’s Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry’s trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry drivers were very efficient in getting them out of the cars, loaded up and to the platform.

“Right then,” said Mr. Weasley, glancing around them. “Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us,” he added. “I’ll go through first with Harry.”

They strode toward the wall and in a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine steadily puffing smoke.

Ginny and Millicent were through next. Then Percy and Ron.

“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Harry looked to Millicent to see if she already knew about this, but she was too busy talking to Ginny to notice Percy striding over toward and a girl with long, curly hair, his chest thrust out so that she couldn’t miss his shiny badge.

Once every one had joined them, Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione and Millicent, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

“Do take care, won’t you, Harry?” she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag, and said, “I’ve made you all sandwiches….Here you are, Ron…no, they’re not corned beef…..Fred…..Fred….”

“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley quietly. “come over here a moment.”

He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around a distracted Mrs. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley looked nervous.

“Harry, there’s something….”

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry. “I already know.”

“You know? How could you know?”

“I…er…I heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. I couldn’t help hearing,” Harry added quickly. “Sorry…”

“That’s not how I wanted you to find out. Harry, you must be very scared….”

“I’m not,” said Harry sincerely. “Really,” he added. “I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can’t be worse than Voldemort, can he?”

Mr. Weasley flinched at the name, but didn’t say anything.

“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff that Fudge seems to think, and I’m obviously pleased that you’re not scared, but….”

“Arthur,” called Mrs. Weasley. “Time to go.”

“He’s coming, Molly!” said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. “Listen, I want you to give me your word…”

“,that I’ll be good and stay in the castle? Of course, Mr.”

“No, Harry, I need you to swear to me that you won’t go looking for Black.”

Harry stared. “What?”

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming the doors shut.

“Promise me, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, “that whatever happens that you won’t go looking for…”

“Why would I?”

“Swear to me that no matter what you hear…”

“Arthur quickly!” cried Mrs. Weasley.

The train had started to move. Nodding to Mr. and then Mrs. Weasley, Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open for him and Harry jumped in. Hermione, Ron, Millicent and Harry set off down the train, looking for a compartment that was empty.

“Oh no,” said Ron. “I’m not sharing an apartment with that thing,” Ron said eyeing Crookshanks.

“And where will I sit,” asked Ginny.

“Somewhere else,” answered Ron. “Go away, Ginny.”

“You don’t have to be so nasty,” Hermione said to Ron as she trotted off after Ginny, Crookshanks looking over his owner’s shoulder at a sorry looking Ron.

“Smooth, Ronald,” said Millicent.

“I…. I didn’t mean Hermione, just Gin, and that blasted cat.”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. It was too late now. Harry, Millicent and Ron headed down the train, until they found a compartment with only one occupant. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who worked the trolley.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they all sat down.

“Caught illiteracy from your brother Weasley? Potter we better leave before we catch it as well.”

“What are you talking about Bulstrode?”

“His name is Professor R.J. Lupin,” said Millicent. “It’s on his case,” she clarified, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where a small, battered case was held together with large quantities of nearly knotted string sat. The name Professor R.J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

“Good thing you decided to be rude to both your sister and Hermione, no need to hear Granger whinge all year because she can’t read her homework.”

“Very funny,” Ron said, though he looked properly chastised.

“Wonder what he teaches?” said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin’s pallid profile.

“Gee, Ronald, I don’t….” Millicent started, but stopped herself, noticing Ron’s tinted cheeks.

“Probably Defense,” said Harry, filing the silence.

“I hope he’s up to it, since you Gryffindors were mainly responsible for driving away the last one.”

“Hey,” said Ron, laughing. “One Slytherin was involved in that too.”

Harry shrugged. “Do you think he’s really asleep?”

“Looks like it,” said Millicent. “Why?”

“Because I have something to tell you guys.”

Harry told them all that he had overheard last night.

Millicent looked decidedly unimpressed.

“Surely you have enough sense not to go looking for the mad man right, Harry?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, trouble does usually find him…”

“And without my help,” defended Harry.

Even Ron had to roll his eyes at that one.

Then their conversation had turned to Hogsmeade. “I can’t wait to check out Honeydukes.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“It’s this sweetshop,” said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face. “where they’ve got everything….Pepper Imps…they make you smoke at the mouth, and great fat Chocoballs fullof strawberry mouse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you’re thinking what to write next…”

“Yeah,” said Millicent. “It will be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade.”

“’Spect it will,” said Harry heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.”

“What d’you mean?” said Ron.

“I can’t go. The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn’t either.”

A horrified look came across Ron’s face, but Millicent barked out a laugh before quieting when she looked over at the sleeping Professor.

“You really asked the Minister to find your permission slip. Oh, Potter, you were really milking that whole missing thing weren’t you?”

Ron seemed to be stuck. “But, but….maybe someone else can sign for you or Fred and George, they know plenty of secret passages.”

“Yeah, and what about Black or do you really think you two could hold him off.”

Ron fumbled.

“He’s already killed a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he’d not be able to do it again?”

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin’s presence in their compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again when Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle appeared outside the compartment doors.

“Ms. Bulstrode,” Malfoy nodded primly. “Thank you for the gift that you have bestowed upon my house. It is most welcome.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy,” Millicent replied, sweetly, her tone dulled by what Harry assumed was more tradition. Then turning to the others she greeted, “Vincent. Hey, Greg.”

“Hey, Millie,” Gregory Goyle replied while Vincent nodded at her, clearly not pleased with her choice of company in Ron and Harry. Malfoy then turned to Harry.

“I assume you got Flint’s owl, Potter. Back on the team, congratulations.”

Harry huffed. “Thanks, Malfoy.” The forced interaction becoming quite awkward.

“I’ll be moving to Chaser, Flint says I’ve got the speed for it,” said Malfoy. Harry simply nodded, knowing Malfoy couldn’t be that pleased at having to change positions. Crabbe looked like he wanted to say something else, but then Professor Lupin snorted loudly.

“Who’s that?” Crabbe asked.

“New teacher,” said Millicent. “but, what were you going to say there Crabbe.” Millicent reached a hand up and flipped her hair over to the side, revealing the shaved head beneath it. Crabbe, obviously remembering the trouble he had last year, turned and bit his lip to keep his mouth shut.

“Nothing,” Malfoy said, putting his hand on Crabbe’s shoulder. “Come on,” he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle before disappearing down the train corridor.

“What on Earth did you get Malfoy that could possible match that thing?” Ron asked, gesturing to Millicent’s traditional, barbaric, tracking device, uh, ring.

“Tea from the shores of New Zealand. Completely over priced, but something I thought would do Malfoy a load of good.”

Harry huffed.

“I can’t believe you spent anything on that git,” said Harry.

“Oh,” said Millicent in a placating tone. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Potter. If you like I’m sure my father would throw Malfoy over if you were interested in me.”

“Your father,” said Ron, giggling. “I’d be surprised if Malfoy’s father wouldn’t throw you over if Harry decided that he wanted the slimy git. He’d be a fool not to take you mate,” said Ron, and Harry clapped his friend on the back for that rather disturbing show of loyalty.

“Thanks, mate,”

Harry looked over at Lupin to make sure that he was still asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped up farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks.

The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

“We can’t be there yet,” said Millicent.

“So, why’re we stopping?”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. Then, the train came to a stop with a jolt and all the lights flickered out.

“What’s going on?” said Ron’s voice from behind Harry.

“Ouch, you oaf!” shouted Millicent. “That was my foot!”

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

“D’you think we’ve broken down?”

“Dunno…..”

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim outline of Ron wipe at the condensation on the window.

“There’s something moving out there,” Ron said. “I think people are coming aboard….”

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs.

“Sorry, d’you know what’s going on? Ouch….sorry.”

“Hello, Neville,” said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

“Harry is that you?” he asked reaching out his hands. “No,” answered Millicent before Neville snapped his hands back by his side.

“What’s happening?”

“No idea,” said Harry. “Here, sit down.

“I’m going to go and ask the driver what the hold up is,” said Millicent. “There are only so many Gryffindor’s I can….”

“Quiet!” said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke.

There was a soft crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

“Stay where you are,” he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet. But the door slid open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin’s hand, was a cloaked figure that towered the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, shiny-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water….

And then the thing beneath the hood, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart….

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward. And then from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrible, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn’t…. a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him….

“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”

Someone was slapping his face.

“W-what?”

Harry opened his eyes to see Millicent, Ron, Neville, and Professor Lupin all staring down at him.

Millicent and Ron helped him back onto his seat.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously.

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking quickly toward the door, but the creature had vanished. “What happened? Where’s that….that thing? Who screamed?”

“No one screamed,” said Ron, nervously.

“But I hea….”

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help.”

“What was that thing?” he asked Lupin.

“A dementor,” said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. “One of the dementors of Azkaban.”

“Eat,” he repeated when they all just looked at him “It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me….”

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ron asked.

“I don’t get it…What happened?” said Harry, wiping some sweat off his brow.

“It looked like you were having a fit,” said Millicent. “Scared poor Weasley here to death.”

Ron nodded though he was sure Millicent had meant herself.

“Then you went sort of rigid,” said Ron. “And then fell out of your seat and started twitching.”

“Then Professor Lupin stepped over you, walked to the door, and pulled out his wand. He said, “None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the dementor didn’t move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away….”

“It was horrible,” said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. “Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?”

“I felt weird,” said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “Like I’d never be cheerful again.”

“But didn’t any of you fall off your seats?” said Harry awkwardly.

They all shook their heads.

Harry didn’t understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of the flu, but he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know….”

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tops of his fingers and toes.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” said Professor Lupin. “Are you all right, Harry?”

Harry didn’t ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey, but Harry did notice the lingering looks Ron and Millicent kept sending him.

As Harry stepped down out of the carriage he saw Draco walking with Neville, but didn’t have time to think about how weird that was before Ron was herding him toward the castle with his frightened mother hen look.

As the entered through the castle doors and headed toward the Great Hall, Harry heard an unmistakable voice call his name.

It was an irate looking Marcus Flint.

“Come on,” he said irritably. “The both of you, not you Weasley,” Marcus sneered as Harry and Millicent followed him, Harry thought to his execution.

“What part of keep yourself in peak physical condition don’t you understand, Potter? The last I checked getting body checked by a dementor wasn’t that?”

“Marcus,” said Millicent. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Flint snorted. “Of course it wasn’t, Bulstrode, nothing ever seems to be Potter’s fault.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, weighing his and Millicent’s odds of being able to take Marcus on if it came to that.

“Infirmary, Professor Lupin owled the school and said that you might need to be checked out after your little episode.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry defiantly. “I’m not that delicate.”

Both Marcus and Millicent gave him a look.

“Well, I’m not,” Harry finished lamely.

After surprisingly running into Hermione at the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey giving him the go ahead, Millicent and Harry walked back down to the Great Hall. Harry had to ask Hermione if she had passed out as well.

They had missed the sorting, but thankfully, not the food. After another summer with the Dursleys, he would be grateful to be on whole, steady meals again.

Millicent eyed him as he licked his lips, nearly salivating at the thought, but didn’t say anything.

“Welcome,” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

He paused and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued. “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody it to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks of disguises or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly, and Harry stared hard at the table. “It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” he said.

“On a happier note,” he continued. “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There was some applause, but Harry clapped hard for Professor Lupin who looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

Harry looked at Professor Snape who was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. His face was twisted in more than anger, in loathing. And Harry knew that expression to well, because it was often how Professor Snape looked at him.

“As to our second appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Harry applauded wildly, a fair number of the other students doing the same, particularly at the Gryffindor table. Harry’s own table even had a few who seemed quite happy.

“I should have known,” Blaise said, leaning toward Harry. “Who else would be barmy enough to have assigned us a biting book?”

Harry laughed knowing it was true and loving the proud smile on Hagrid’s face.

After the feast, Harry found Hagrid and told him congratulations and that he was looking forward to his class before he, Millicent and Blaise walked off toward the dungeons.

The dorms looked the same as they had for Harry’s past two years at Hogwarts though he seemed to have brand new dorm mates. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were almost being well, not nice, but certainly polite to him. It wasn’t enough to make him go on full alert, but it was enough to make his ears perk up. Forget Sirius Black, the real threat was a smiling Draco Malfoy.

When it was his time to shower, Harry made sure that all his belongings were locked and warded in his trunk and that he took his wand with him. After seeing it in Riddle’s hand last year, Harry had kept it close. It was nice to be able to use magic again. A part of him couldn’t wait for classes tomorrow. Harry was slipping on his Cannon’s t-shirt Ron got him for Christmas last year when the candles flickered like they had on the train, Harry’s mind supplied. Harry finished dressing quickly, and grabbed his wand. He opened the door back to the dorm and all he saw was darkness. The only light was the light from the lake, shining through the glass in the corner. Harry’s mind raced, though rationally he knew this was probably just one of Malfoy’s pranks. He lowered his wand intent on not giving Malfoy the satisfaction. Heading to his bed he stopped when he heard Millicent’s voice. It was a quick scream, followed by “Harry!”

Harry was out the door in a second, wand raised. He ran into the same sort of darkness that was in the room, not even the fireplace was glowing.

“Mil?” Harry ventured, when a rush of a breeze blew past him. It felt cold like it had on the train, but Dumbledore sai… A black mass moved in the corner at the same time another bumped into him, and he fell to the floor, his wand falling out of his sight and clanging away out of reach. He could hear Millicent struggling in earnest now as a hooded figure loomed over him. He screamed, flailing his arms upward, hitting something solid.

“Oi, Potter!” a voice said and the lights flicked back on. Goyle through back his hood, holding onto his eye. Pansy Parkinson was laughing hysterically in the corner and Millicent was finally able to pull herself out of Crabbe’s hold on her.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco Malfoy drawled as he removed his own hood. Harry wanted to eviscerate that smug smile on his face.

“You wish,” Harry muttered as Millicent elbowed Crabbe in the chest.

“Ouch, Mil,”

“You deserved it, you low life flobberworm.”

“Longbottom said you passed out, Potter, is that true?” Draco mocked Harry. Harry pushed himself off the floor.

“What’s your problem Malfoy?”

“Nothing, Potter, just testing a theory. See, I wanted to know if your natural reaction to fear was to kiss the floor or if you were also keen on wetting yourself?”

“Ha, Ha,” said Harry. “You’re a real git, Malfoy. Are you alright?” Harry asked Millicent.

“Fine,” she said shortly, though her cheeks were tinted red. Her eyes, however, looked furious.

Harry’s heart still pounding he shrugged off Malfoy’s laughter.

“Oh, come on, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice followed after him. “Wait and I’ll read you a bedtime story.”

Harry slammed the door to their room shut and went to bed, willing his heart to stop racing.