Harry Potter and the Sisters Three

            Chapter 2: Lost and Found

    Diagon Alley at last.

    The month of August had passed so slowly Harry hadn't been sure it had passed at all. But finally the week had arrived: the last week of holiday wherein he would meet Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley to gather their supplies for the term to come. Harry was nearly quivering with excitement as he stepped into the dirty lot behind the Leaky Cauldron and tapped the third brick from the left above the trash bins. The sight of the bricks pulling apart to reveal the wonders of Diagon Alley never failed to amaze him. He could hear the talk and noise on the other side, and smiled at how wonderful it felt to be returning to life in the wizarding world. He passed Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions before he caught sight of two familiar heads, one high up and bright red, the other shorter and bushy brown. Harry's whole face broke out into a smile as he quickened his pace towards his two friends.

    "Harry!" Hermione had turned and caught sight of him. Upon her cry Ron turned as well, in time to catch his head on the corner of a signpost above him.

    "Ouch! Hello Harry! Have a good holiday?" Ron asked, ruefully rubbing his forehead.

    "Oh yes, did the Dursleys give you much trouble? We so wanted you to come and stay with us at the Burrow the last couple weeks, but Lupin told us to stop asking," Hermione explained. Harry's face darkened.

    "It wasn't awful, but a week or two at the Burrow would have been more than welcome." Harry paused. He wondered if he really ought to tell them about Remus's concern regarding Voldemort. He could almost hear them now: Hermione's warnings against leaving Hogwarts grounds and reluctance to participate in any of their usual school year diversions, and Ron's concerned but unconstructive attempts at reassurance. Harry, strangely enough, wasn't terribly worried about Voldemort. Compared with his fight to banish the memory of his lost friend overshadowed even the Dark Lord -- he simply seemed so far away. The stares of his friends made him realize how long he had been silent, and he started to speak again.

    "After all the concern surrounding the Ministry of Magic break-in, Dumbledore just thought it best that I stay with blood relatives. Thought I'd be safer amongst the Muggles, or something." Harry could tell by the way that Hermione was wrinkling her nose that she wasn't satisfied with his answer. Ron, thankfully, seemed to take it all on faith and immediately began perusing the alley again.

    "So what have you been up to here?" Harry asked, relieved to find a way out of the conversation that would, sooner or later, lead them to talk about Sirius. Ron's freckled face broke into a wide grin.

    "Paid Weasley's Wizard Wheezes a call," he replied, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice as he jerked his thumb in the direction of Fred and George, his gregarious older brothers who had fled Hogwart's before the end of their seventh and final year in order to open a joke shop. A shop which was, judging from the slick appearance of the twin mountebanks, thriving.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are actually proud, I think," Hermione said in what Harry assumed was meant to be a scathing tone. He knew Hermione didn't approve of Fred and George's leaving school, but he noted that she couldn't keep a smile from twitching the corners of her lips. He also noticed a glint of metal.

    "What've you got in your mouth?" he inquired, which caused Ron to break out in a wide grin yet again. Hermione's face colored pink to the roots of her thick brown hair.

    "Braces," she muttered, baring her teeth. "Mum and Dad insisted upon doing it the Muggle way, even though Madam Pomfrey had sort of straightened them out for me on accident." Harry nodded in commiseration and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He stared back at Fred and George, who were talking to their parents, and -

    "Percy?!" Harry's outcry was half question, half curse. The most rigidly straightlaced of the Weasley brothers had nearly been excommunicated when he decided to remain on the side of the Ministry against his parents, the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus Dumbledore. Ron nodded.

    "Yeah. After all the Ministry admitted what thick clodpoles they were, Percy tried back into the family graces. It's really awkward still, Dad won't really talk to him, but he comes around occasionally. No one is particularly sure if we missed him yet, except Mum," Ron answered, scowling. He scanned the crowded streets again, his mind irretrievably focused on the business of school.

    "I really need to replenish my store of ingredients for Potions," he said. "Not to mention all the new stuff we need for the N.E.W.T. class."

    "That's convenient," replied Hermione. "Ginny and I will go and get all our books while you and Harry get all our Potions supplies." Harry hadn't even noticed the arrival of Ginny Weasley; who, now in her fifth year, had grown considerably taller, and had apparently regained a little of her former shyness. She smiled briefly at Harry before following Hermione into the crowd to the bookstore.

    "Well, c'mon then Harry, we've got quite a load to buy." Ron smiled widely at him and hefted a large sack up to his shoulder.

    "Seems you and Hermione have already done quite a bit of shopping." Harry grinned. "What's in the bag?" Ron blushed and ducked his head.

    "New robes and some parchment, nothing special."

    "New robes? I thought you just got some last year?"

    "Not dress robes, regular robes. Mum thought I'd need 'em, with...and what all." Ron had drooped his head, his mutter unintelligible.

    "What was that?"

    "Trying for Head Boy. Mum's dying to have another one in the family." Ron's tone of voice plainly said he expected to be mocked. Harry chuckled out loud.

    "After the fine display of prefect behavior you put on last year, you still hope to beat out Malfoy and Ernie Macmillan?"

    "Yeah," a smile was twitching the corners of Ron's mouth. Harry bit his lip to stifle the explosion he knew was coming. Both he and Ron failed utterly. Laughing, the two boys made their way into the Apothecary, drawing out their respective lists to determine what items they'd all need. A bell tinkled as they entered the store. The smell of dust and lavender was nearly overpowering as they entered the jumbled collection of bottles, phials, and baskets heaped up for display in mismatched islands on the floor. Ron looked distastefully at the assortment of salamander eyes nearest him.

    "I'll look through these," he volunteered manfully. "You take the bottles on the wall." He immediately began pawing through the basket of salamander eyes, selecting the firmest. Harry shrugged and turned to the wide variety of colored glass that lined the back wall of the Apothecary. As he peered at the labels, all written in curly antiquated script, he thought of his first year. He'd had no idea what he was doing as he'd clung to Hagrid's immense side, listening to him mumble things like "Never seen wormwood priced so high, not worth my bootlacings." and "A POUND of lacewings? How much Forgetfulness potion is Snape having them make nowadays?". It seemed a miracle that he made it through that year at all. The pretty colored concoctions reminded him of something else as well: Snape's own safeguard on the Sorceror's Stone.

    "Ugh, batwings." Ron's exclamation drew Harry out of his thoughts. "I remember using these last year. I couldn't get the smell out of my robes for weeks. Poor Ginny." He dropped a tangle of the dried appendages amongst his little sister's other supplies. "How are you doing over there, Harry?"

    "Found belladonna tonic," Harry answered. "How many bottles do we need?" Ron ticked off on his fingers as he read through the four lists.

    "Seven," he said with finality. "Two each for us and Hermione, and one for Ginny." The two boys bent to their respective searches again, looking for several minutes when the soft vague bell tinkled again, alerting those inside of the entrance of another customer.

    It was Draco Malfoy.

    He had certainly grown since the last time Harry had seen him. He was tall, though not as tall as Ron, and faintly muscular. His growth hadn't endangered his position as Seeker for the Slytherin quidditch team, he was still as slight and compactly built as Harry, who had always been small for his age; but he would have no need for the protection of Crabbe and Goyle this year. He stared around the store balefully, nodding to the sour-faced shopkeeper and leaning to peer into a basket of eagle talons balanced precariously against the doorframe. He rose, apparently finding the talons of no particular interest, and spotted Ron standing in the middle of the floor. Ron was glaring daggers at Malfoy, but that didn't stop him from approaching the despised Slytherin, his wand clenched tightly in the hand obscured by his sleeve. Malfoy smirked, jerking up his chin in a condescending form of a greeting. He opened his mouth to shoot some barbed comment Ron's way, but he was interrupted by the store's bell, which tinkled faintly again; this time to announce the arrival of Draco's father, Lu-

    "Lucius Malfoy! Sir!" The excited bark of the shopkeeper pierced through the tension hovering in the air between the two boys. "I had hoped you would accompany young Draco today! Your order has arrived, Master Malfoy," he said, with a degree more control. He brought a brown paper-wrapped parcel above the counter, and looked at Lucius with an immense amount of pleasure, as though his visit was the reason for even opening the shop on that particular day. Lucius, who did not look pleased about either escorting his son about shopping or the arrival of his nondescript special order, nodded curtly.

    "Thank you, Master Grendle." His voice was clipped. He turned to his son. "Have you gotten everything you need yet?" He snapped his fingers, and the retiring house elf that had been lingering about his knees scampered off to procure whatever items Draco hadn't yet gathered.

    "I wasn't able to get any with this Weasley in the way, father." Draco's smirked widened. He gestured toward Ron in an offhand manner.

    "So I see. Where's your father, boy?" Lucius spoke to Ron distastefully, as if making inquiries of a boy his son's age was beneath him.

    "At the Ministry, I imagine. HE has more important things to do than accompany his grown son on a little shopping trip to pick out school supplies, but I suppose people who have just bought their way fresh out of Azkaban have a lot of time on their hands," Ron said acidly. His arrow hit its mark however, for Lucius Malfoy's pale face yellowed and his eyes flashed.

    "He should have taught his son better manners," he growled. Ron's ears were redder than his hair, but he continued to stare hatefully at Lucius. Harry stood, rooted to the spot where he was half-hidden by the shadows from an overhanging shelf. Neither Draco nor Lucius had sighted him yet, and he honestly did not want them to. He could still remember the maniac light in Lucius's eyes as he had looked at Harry, bound to bring the ill-fated prophecy that bound Harry to Voldemort into the Dark Lord's hands, the night Sirius had...died. Recalling that time left him cold and gasping, unaware that a clammy sweat had risen on his body. The flickering darkness in the store began to pulse as he struggled to remain conscious. The lightning-bolt scar on his forehead was throbbing madly.

    'Please Ron," he thought, 'just let them go!' But Ron had no intention of stopping.

    "Like you taught yours?" he shot back at Lucius. The older Malfoy's eyes were snapping with anger as he raised his hand to strike Ron. Harry gasped for air like a fish out of water, black stars dancing before his eyes. 'Please...'

    Before Lucius could move again, the dreamy bell tolled again, signalling the arrival of another character of the little drama taking place in the dim Apothecary.

    It was Hermione.

    "Ron, what are you doing? You've been in here for over an hour! Ginny and I have been done for ages!!" she prattled, completely ignoring the two enraged Malfoys standing, shocked, only feet from her. She seized Ron's arm and dragged him to the counter. "Go ahead and ring up," she commanded, searching around the store for Harry. Her eyes lit on him in his corner. "Harry! And you lingering over there too! Get over here!"

    Harry steeled himself, blinking his eyes to rid them of the patterns of light that had so recently obscured his vision. He ignored the icy stares of Draco and his father on his back. He placed the armful of bottles that he had thankfully not dropped onto the counter and watched the wrinkled face of Mr. Grendle as he totalled up their purchases.

    Lucius Malfoy was even more furious that he had been. He inclined his head briefly towards the door.

    "Come, Draco." They left in a swish of robes, leaving the poor house elf to toddle after them with a look of anxiety on his pointy face. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at his friends. Hermione had a look of severity on her face, arms crossed as she watched Ron divide all their newly-bought supplies into their bags.

    "Are you ready now?" she barked at the two boys. Ron nodded sullenly. Harry only walked towards the door. He was still feeling a little shaken, and reached up to trace the line of his scar.

    They stepped out into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley once again, and Harry felt much better. Away from the dim, flickering light of the Apothecary, it was easy to dismiss the strange feelings. He breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation of being born along by the light and the crowd of the Alley. He was hardly aware that he was even walking, bookended by Ron and Hermione. It was the former who brought him out of his reverie.

    "Why didn't you do anything?" Ron asked. "Were you just going to let Malfoy's father hit me like that?"

    "I had sort of hoped you wouldn't start anything with them, Ron." Harry responded wryly. "And in any case, you could have hit him with a Petrificus curse before I could move with your hand clenched on your wand the way it was." He slowed to a stop next to Ollivander's, and the other two stopped with him. He decided not to tell them about the feelings in Mr. Grendle's shop. It was nothing, for the moment. He wouldn't worry them.

    "Oh," Ron said, looking faintly relieved. "I almost thought you were afraid of Malfoy, or something." Harry laughed.

    "Never. It's just that starting fights in the middle of Diagon Alley wouldn't look too good on our records at school, you know?" Harry grinned, walking after Hermione who had started off in a huff.

    "Since when has the state of your record at school stopped you from doing something absolutely ridiculous?" she asked, nose wrinkled. "But in any case, I agree with Harry. Starting a fight with the Malfoys isn't wise when there's no one watching. Who KNOWS what they'd do!" She spoke distastefully.

    "And how did Lucius manage to get out of Azkaban? He was there at the Ministry that night!! Fudge SAW him!!" Harry inquired. Ron glowered, and even Hermione looked angry enough to kill.

    "He was tried by the full Wizengamot, all except Dumbledore," Ron began.

    "But something happened during the trial," Hermione continued.

    "What?" asked Harry, his sense of foreboding growing. Hermione shook her head.

    "No one is entirely sure. They think he might have put a spell on all of them, or maybe paid some of them off."

    "But the Daily Prophet reported that he got off on a technicality," Ron said snidely. "They don't want to make the Ministry look even worse than they already do, having denied for a year that You-Know-Who really was back."

    "So Lucius Malfoy pulled one over on the entire Wizengamot? I didn't think he was THAT powerful a wizard," Harry mused, his eyes serious as they swept over the crowds.

    "The Order thinks he probably had help," Hermione replied meaningfully. "Some of the wizards on the Wizengamot were the ones who claimed to have been under the Imperius curse after V--You-Know-Who was defeated the first time. Anyway, they're investigating what happened."

    "Where's Ginny?" Ron inquired, suddenly noticing the absence of his sister.

    "Right there," Hermione answered. She pointed to a red headed figure seated under one of the voluminous pink umbrellas at Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Ginny sighted them and waved her spoon before taking another bite of her Double Fudge Crunch Sundae. The trio quickened their pace until they had entered the shade of the umbrella covering the table Ginny had chosen. She took another bite of ice cream as they sat down. She smiled, unaware of the small dab of chocolate syrup lingering at the edge of her mouth. She then turned to Hermione.

    "Did we get everything?" she asked. Hermione nodded, and then gestured to make clear to Ginny that she was wearing a little of her sundae. Ginny blushed up to the roots of her hair and wiped the syrup away. She shot a quick glance at Harry, but he was looking at Ron, who was hefting his bag up to the seat beside him.

    "That," Hermione said, indicating Ginny's sundae, "looks absolutely decadent."

    "It is delicious," Ginny agreed. "Would you like a taste?"

    "Mmm!! Yes! I - Ron, where are you going?" Hermione turned to the older Weasley, who had been trying to make his way from the table unseen.

    "Er, well, I..." he trailed off.

    "If you're going in there," Hermione warned, "you'd better be coming back with one of those for me." She pointed again to Ginny's half-melted sundae. Ron scowled.

    "Anything else?" he asked sardonically.

    "If it isn't any trouble, I'd like two scoops of butter pecan with that toffee crunch topping." Harry smiled angelically. Ron shot them all dark looks before heading into the coolness of Fortescue's. Hermione giggled. Ginny resumed eating her ice cream while Harry stared off into the crowd passing by. For a brief moment, he could have sworn that Sirius had passed by. He brushed off the feeling of hope, knowing quite well that the thoughts had most likely been prompted by the encounter in the apothecary. He turned his eyes to a shadowy patch of street across from Madam Malkin's: Knockturn Alley. It was fairly deserted, but hard to see through the throng walking about the main street. He caught a flash of silvery blond hair at the mouth of the alley, and wondered if Lucius and Draco Malfoy were continuing their shopping down the darkness of that forbidding tributary.

    "Here." Ron had returned, laden with the round ice cream dishes that carried their orders. "You owe me," he snarled without malice, sliding the dishes across to Hermione and Harry. They both smiled their thanks at the still grumbling Ron.

    "Hermione, did you remember to get our books for Divination?" Harry asked as he pawed through his sack with one hand and wolfed down his ice cream with the other. She cut her eyes at him.

    "Of course. Although why you and Ron continue to take that class is beyond me. Frankly, I can't believe that it even HAS a N.E.W.T.-level class!! I mean, honestly! You don't even DO your homework, you only make it up!! I wouldn't waste my time with it!!" Hermione had dropped Divination their third year, while Ron and Harry continued to subject themselves to the whimsical moanings of Professor Trelawney.

    "It's not so bad. We get full marks as long as we predict that lots of horrible things are going to happen to us. I'm just careful not to predict my own death. I think Professor Trelawney might be a little too disappointed if that didn't come true," Ron explained. "And it did get sort of interesting when Firenze taught it last year."

    "You should have taken something useful like Ginny and me. Muggle Studies, or Arithmancy. And Ancient Runes has really become fascinating!"

    "Right. Fascinating, if you like piles and piles of homework every night, that is. No thanks! Don't you even REMEMBER how crazy you were third year with all those classes? You weren't yourself at all!! Besides, Divination probably serves more of a purpose for Aurors than Ancient Runes, in any case," he said, referring to the profession that he and Harry had been leaning towards before their O.W.L.S. the previous year. "And now you're going to try to take the seventh-year schedule this year? You're mad!" Ron finished his ice cream all at once and rubbed the frozen spot between his eyebrows. "Ugh, brain freeze."

    "That," Hermione shot back in a miffed tone, "would imply that you have a brain to freeze." She swooped down upon the table, removing the empty ice cream dishes and other bits of offal.

    "Still touchy," Ron grumbled.

    "Is McGonagall going to let her do it?" Harry asked, referring to the extra-strenuous schedule that Hermione had elected to take a year early.

    "Yeah. Don't ask me why, though. With all that homework, on top of being prefect, she's going to tear her hair out." He turned to his sister. "All right then, Ginny?"    

    "I was just thinking that we ought to get back to the Leaky Cauldron," she aswered. "It's getting dark and Mum will be wondering where we are."

    "That's right," agreed Hermione, who had returned to the table. "And I, for one, want a good night's sleep before our first day back."

    The four students hefted their bulging bags and trudged toward the mouth of Diagon Alley. They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and dragged themselves upstairs. Down the dim corridor were three doors, each with a gold number plate affixed to it. The plates had been enchanted to direct the group to their rooms. They passed #1 "Mr. and Mrs. A. Weasley", and came to a stop in front of doors #3 "H. Granger and V. Weasley" and #2 "R. Weasley and H. Potter". Harry glanced briefly at the plate above the girls' door.

    "V. Weasley?" he mused, and turned to Ginny. "What's the 'V' stand for?"

    "Virginia," she responded. "Ginny for short."    

    "And you've always been a little short," Ron joked. He yawned, and tapped upon the door of the room he and Harry were to share. The gold plate clouded momentarily, and the names and number disappeared, replaced by "welcome!". He tossed his bag inside, and Harry did the same. Ron turned to the girls, who had already entered their own room.

    "Goodnight, all," he called, and followed Harry into their room. Ron promptly sat down on the edge of his bed, took off his shoes, and crawled under the covers. Harry took the time to change into his pajamas before getting into bed himself. "Goodnight, Harry," Ron murmured as Harry turned out the light.

    "G'night, Ron," Harry murmured back as he dropped off into sleep.

            *~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*

    "You disappointed me today, Draco," the father tells his son. The two are alone in the immense dining room of the Malfoy Mansion, at opposite ends of a table that stretched on like a dark mahogany road.

    "I'm sorry, father." Draco couldn't keep the plaintive, whining note that he had always used around his father as a child out of his voice. He ground his teeth. It was Weasley's fault. If he hadn't been so quick to start a fight...

    Draco clenched his fist around his fork. He had been beaten by a Weasley. It wouldn't, couldn't, happen again. He'd make sure of that. And Potter, he smirked. Potter had hidden like a rabbit in a warren at the sight of Lucius Malfoy. And as well he should. Lucius had told his son everything about the night at the Ministry of Magic, the night that Potter escaped with his charmed life yet again from the clutches of Lord Voldemort. Potter had every reason to fear Voldemort. And Lucius as well, powerful Death Eater that he was. Draco smirked again into his food. If he had anything to say about it, Potter would soon fear another Malfoy as well. He paused, drawing the sleeve of his robe up over his left forearm, grinning at what he saw. There, newly burned black upon the pale skin, was the Dark Mark.

    "Be afraid, Potter," he said under his breath. "And fear me."

            *~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*

    "GET UP!" Harry shot out of bed with Mr. Weasley's bellow ringing in his eyes. The world swam before him in a sea of movement and color. He fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses, and when he finally put them on he couldn't supress a laugh.

    Arthur Weasley was hopping about on one foot, trying to put his socks on standing up. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie hung like a limp piece of spaghetti about his neck, and his hair was nearly as messy as Harry's. Ron was also sitting up in bed, but he didn't look quite as amused. He was still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

    "What are you on about, dad?" he asked grouchily.

    "No time for questions," Mr. Weasley gasped. In the process of his hopping, he had gotten a little to close to the nightstand. He promptly lost his balance, falling headfirst into the nightstand and the wall with a crash. The two boys looked at each other and laughed.

    "What's this?" The noise of her husband's fall had brought Molly Weasley in from the hall. She surveyed her fallen husband, her sleepy son, and Harry all with the same calculating eye. Unlike her husband, she was fully dressed, but her vibrant red hair was still done up in curlers. She frowned, brows arched and hands on her hips.

    "UP!!" Luckily, her command applied to all three of the inert bodies in the room (as well as the nightstand, but it chose not to listen), and they all made their way to upright positions. Mr Weasley determined that sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes was a much wiser idea than doing it standing up, and the two boys rushed frantically to get dressed. Now hopping to put on his own socks, Ron turned again to his father.

    "Why the rushing? We've never been that late before!" Like his father, Ron also promptly lost his balance, crashing into the only recently righted nightstand. The mirror over the washbasin tutted disapprovingly as Molly Weasley's shouts of annoyance were heard from two rooms down.

    "Something went wrong with the Sleep Charm I cast," Mr. Weasley answered. "Got us up at nine instead of eight."

    "I suppose it happens every once in awhile," Harry consoled, pulling his sweater over his head and attempting to smooth his hair down flat.

    "But we use that charm every night, and it's never failed before!!" Mr. Weasley argued. He sighed, finally noticing that he had been endeavoring to put his shoes on the wrong feet. "You boys go on and take your things downstairs. We'll be down in a minute." Ron and Harry nodded, and bumped themselves and their trunks out of the room. They made their way back to the stairs, being careful to avoid the erratic trail of Mrs. Weasley's curlers strewn about the hallway. Upon reaching the ground floor, they were shocked to see Ginny and Hermione already there, ready and waiting.

    "How did YOU get down here so fast?" Ron inquired, shocked. "I thought it was supposed to take girls AGES to get ready."

    "We got up on time, of course." Hermione replied. "Whenever I go away from home I take my own alarm clock with me, so Ginny and I were up at eight." She smiled proudly. Ron's face was blank.

    "A what?"

    "Muggle artifact," Harry informed him. Ron nodded. Hermione looked infuriated.

    "It's not an artifact!" she huffed. "It's a state-of-the-art piece of equipment with a radio, and it simultaneously tells time in London, Paris, Rome, and Schtad, and..." she trailed off at the sight of Ron's yet-again blank expression.

    "Skip it," she conceded wearily. She sat on her trunk and drew her ginger-colored cat, Crookshanks, into her lap. Her purred contentedly as he rubbed under his chin.

    "Alright, alright!! We're going, NOW!" Arthur and Molly Weasley came pounding down the stairs, Mr. Weasley dragging all the luggage as Mrs. Weasley fished through her purse.

    "I'll take care of the bill, you just get them into the car!" Mrs. Weasley was looking decidely flustered. Her husband nodded, and signalled for the four students to follow. They headed out into the bright sun in front of the Leaky Cauldron, where a dark green Ministry car was waiting for them. As usual, it had been enchanted, allowing both the car's interior and its trunk to be expanded to hold its cargo. Once all four trunks and two suitcases had been loaded; and four Weasleys, one Granger, and one Potter had taken their places inside, the car set off in a tearing hurry for King's Cross Station. The time was precisely 10:38 in the morning: they had twenty-four minutes to get to the station and board the train that would take them to Hogwarts. Harry glanced about at the plush interior of the car provided by the Ministry. If they couldn't make the train...this car certainly wasn't the flying Ford Anglia that had taken Harry and Ron (illegally, of course) back to school when the entrance to platform 9 3/4 had refused to let them through. If they missed the train today, there was no telling how they would make their way to the unplottable school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

    At exactly 10:52 the car pulled lazily up to King's Cross Station, and six people frantically began moving luggage and running toward the platform. There was no time to dissemble their entrances into platform 9 3/4, and even with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing on either side of the divider to disguise things, Harry could see the curious stares of Muggles as Hermione and Ginny vanished through to the other side. He took a deep breath and dashed at the brick wall, side by side with Ron, hoping against hope that they would be able to make the train. In a moment they had emerged onto the platform awaiting the Hogwarts Express, which was already beginning to build up steam for its exit. The boys shoved their trunks onto the train roughly, and prepared to follow when the train began to chug off.

    "Cor!" Ron cursed, and jumped aboard. He nearly lost his footing when the train jolted, and he did lose one thing: the large cage which held his tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, crashed to the ground, freeing the feathered grey creature into the air.

    "Pig!! Pig, come back here!" Ron swiped his hands through the air frantically trying to catch the little grey owl, but to no avail. He twittered cheerily, and flew off out of sight. Harry, meanwhile, had been trying to jump into the moving train, and was now confronted with two problems: his lack of success and the fact that he was rapidly running out of platform.

    "Ron!" he called, and held out his arm. Ron finally turned his attention from his delinquent owl to his desperate friend. He flung out an arm, and Harry caught it, gaining a foothold on the floor of the train just before that car left the vicinity of the platform altogether.

    "That was close, eh?" Ron said, grinning. The boys climbed over their trunks, and proceeded to drag them down the swaying corridor. They spotted Hermione talking to Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor sixth-year. Ron pulled a little ways ahead and called out to her, "Oy, Hermione!" She rolled her eyes.

    "Could you at least address me in a manner with some dignity?" she asked scathingly. Then she smiled. "Make it onto the train alright?" she pulled open the door of their compartment, revealing her own luggage already inside. Harry and Ron made their way in and stowed their trunks.

    "Just barely," Harry said with a wry smile. "It was almost as dramatic as one of those Muggle movies." The comment was lost on Ron, who had his face pressed to the window.

    "And Pigwidgeon got loose," he added, trying to modify the look of concern on his face to something a little more befitting his feigned annoyance at the owl and failing utterly. "Drat the thing," he grumbled.

    "Anything from the cart, dearies?" Ron's emotive ramblings were interrupted by the appearance of the food cart, pushed by the same round little witch that had pushed it as long as Harry could remember. They bought a just of pumpkin juice and a stack of cauldron cakes, only then remembering that they had skipped breakfast in the rush to get to the station. They hadn't been eating long when a much less welcome interruption arrived.

    "Well well well. Weasley, Potter, and the Mudblood. What a surprise." Draco Malfoy's voice was dripping with sarcasm. He was already dressed in his school robes, looking cool and obviously rich as was his custom. One thing was not the same as his previous visits, however. This time, he was not accompanied by the hulking shadowy presences of Crabbe and Goyle.

    "Sod off, Malfoy," Ron warned. His eyes were flashing angrily.

    "Or what, Weasley?" he shot back. "Will you put some terrible curse on me? Or maybe you'll just let the Mudblood save you again." Malfoy's face twisted into a crooked smirk.

    "Or maybe," he said softly, "you'll let Potter come take care of you. If he isn't afraid to come out of his corner, that is." His teeth, bared by his smile, glinted evilly. Ron's whole face was red. He open his mouth to splutter a response. Harry stood up.

    "Get out of here Malfoy," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Get out of here before we forget that little rule about malicious magic on the train."

    "It's not a rule that's stopping you, Potter." Malfoy's whole face was eerily lit up. "I know-"

    But Draco never got to finish his thought. At that moment, Pigwidgeon swooped through the open window and flew above his head, pausing only to do something for which all birds are notoriously famous.

    Splat.

    Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all speechless for a moment. Malfoy stood as still as a statue, mouth hanging open and hands brought halfway up to his face. A trail of chalk ran from the top of his head down the side of his face and onto the shoulder of his robes. His pale face reddened.

    Ron was the first to break the silence, trying without success to stifle his laughter. This brought on a stream of giggles from Hermione, and at last even a smile was twitching at the corners of Harry's mouth. Malfoy turned without a word and left their compartment.

    "We'd better get to the prefect's compartment, Ron." Hermione said.

    "Right. We'll be back in a few, Harry." He watched as his two friend moved forward through the train. He smiled as Ginny struggled in with her luggage, a sour frown on her face.

    "Just once," she spat, "I would like to be on time to the train." She sat done with a huff. Harry shrugged at her and tilted back his head for a little nap.

    The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful.

            *~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*><*~><~*

    The Hogwarts Express pulled into the station in the dark, and the throngs of students made their way onto the platform to board their respective modes of reaching the school. As the trio descended, they heard a familiar voice above the chaotic talk and laughter.

    "Firs' years!! Firs' years this way!" Hagrid was moving slowly toward the lake, holding a huge lantern and (as always) his pink umbrella.

    "Hagrid!" Harry called out, eager to see the immense Care of Magical Creatures Professor after the long summer holiday. He turned.

    "Harry!! Ron! Hermione!" He stepped forward to greet them all. "How've you been?"

    "Quite well, thank you," Hermione replied, answering for all of them.

    "What about you, Hagrid? How have you been?" Harry was anxious to hear all Hagrid had to say. The huge man swelled a little with pride.

    "Well, I got a bit of a surprise for you all this year," he began. Ron paled. Other surprises dealing with Hagrid's class had to do with huge crustacean-like animals that shot fire out of their tails, man-eating spiders, and keeping giant relatives in the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

    "I'll only be teaching until Christmas this year." Of all the things they had expected to hear, that was not one of them.

    "Oh Hagrid, what happened?" Hermione cried with dismay. "They didn't dismiss you, did they?"

    "You're not going back to round up more long-lost family?" Ron blanched at the memory of Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother whom he'd brought to live at Hogwarts last year.

    "Oh no, nothing of that sort," Hagrid said hurriedly. "It's just, well..." he trailed off, the only parts of his face not obscured by his shaggy beard turning bright pink. "Olympe and I decided to get married!" This too, was not at all expected.

    "That's great!" Harry enthused as he clapped Hagrid on the back. "Good for you!" Hagrid and Madame Olympe Maxime had met two years before when the Triwizard Tournament brought her school, Beauxbatons, to Hogwarts for a brief while. After the return of Voldemort, Dumbledore had sent the pair on a trip to act as goodwill ambassadors to the giants he felt sure the Dark Lord would try to bring to his side. It was on that perilous trip that Hagrid had discovered Grawp, and apparently his soulmate as well. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were indeed a good match - they were both half-giants.

    "Well, I better be gettin' these first years onto the boats," Hagrid said. "And you three better be gettin' up to the school yourselves."

    "Alright, Hagrid," Ron smiled. They waved goodbye to the gamekeeper as he led the first year students to the lake where the boats waited to take them to Hogwarts. Then they turned to board their own magical carriages, which would lead them to the school a little faster.

    "I'm so happy for him!" Hermione said tearfully. "Not to mention a little relieved." She looked a little apologetic. Harry and Ron understood. The strange happenings in Care of Magical Creatures might always be interesting, but certainly not the safest of things.

    The carriages pulled up to the front of Hogwarts only a few moments later, and the trio climbed the stairs into the main entryway, Harry sparing one look back at the eerie thestrals which drew the carriages. He had first seen them last year, after Cedric had died. He shot a quick glance at Ron and Hermione. They were walking in front of him, talking about something he couldn't make out. They hadn't been able to see the thestrals. Harry dropped his head, memories of the night at the Ministry filling his head. Neither Hermione nor Ron had been in the room when Bellatrix Lestrange had hit Sirius with the curse that knocked him backward, neither of them had seen his near-graceful fall through the tattered curtain, and neither of them had seen him fail to reappear on the other side. Harry snapped back to the present, the vestiges of his sadness and loneliness still clinging bitterly in the back of his throat. He caught up with Ron and Hermione, who were making their way to the Great Hall with the rest of the crowd. Only when they had reached the other side of the courtyard did they notice the guards.

    Two wizard guards were posted by every door opening to the outside of the school, dressed in Ministry uniforms.

    "I wonder what that's all about?" Ron thought aloud.

    "Apparently Minister Fudge thought it was a necessary precaution, now that Voldemort's returned," Hermione replied while she stared at the guards. Harry considered her proposition doubtfully. Harry wondered nastily if Fudge had finally deemed the Dementors untrustworthy, but upon entering the Great Hall all other thoughts fled his mind. The bewitched ceiling showed a clear night sky, the patterns of constellations looking much like the star charts they had made last year. The four long tables were set with the golden plates he remembered, and the friendly house ghosts were winding their way lazily through the air above the candles. Harry could see the teachers milling about their own table at the front of the Great Hall, and hear all the other students as they came in to take their places.

    "Who's that?" Hermione asked out of the blue. Harry and Ron turned to see to whom she was referring. Her hand was pointed at a dark-haired girl in Ravenclaw robes moving with her house to a table.

    "Looks like a Ravenclaw to me," Ron answered. He shrugged and turned away. Harry didn't really see what Hermione was interested in either. It wasn't at all uncommon for some students to go unnoticed by another, especially if those students weren't in your house. "Why are you concerned, Hermione? It's not like you need to know everyone."

    "I know that, I just think it's a little strange. And I'm sure I've never seen her before." Her eyes perused the throng once again. "Or HER, either." She gestured again, this time to a blonde girl in Slytherin colors who was clinging to the arm of Draco Malfoy, who didn't look too put out by the attention.

    "She sort of resembles Fleur Delacour," Ron observed. He scowled at Malfoy. "Maybe she's part veela."

    "I've never noticed her before," Hermione continued.

    "Well, you wouldn't," Harry interjected. "Veela charms tend to work on the male of the species." He smiled. Hermione turned to him.

    "Have YOU ever noticed her before?" she asked.

    "No," Harry conceded, "but I'm not terribly observant either. Stop worrying, Hermione, it's not important. And sit down, the Sorting's about to begin." A large group of first years had just entered the Great Hall, shooting nervous glances everywhere at once. They clung together tightly, moving like a herd of sheep.

    "I know being Sorted is a little anxious," Ron said, "but is it really that bad?"

    "I think they're having some trouble." The trio looked up. The speaker was Colin Creevey, a fifth year. He was carrying his camera, as always, and was wearing a very solemn expression.

    "What d'you mean, Colin?" Harry asked, brow furrowed.

    "I overheard Professor McGonagall in the corridor a minute ago. It seems they're missing something, I thought she might have misplaced the list." Hermione looked horrified.

    "Professor McGonagall would never do a thing like that!" she exclaimed "It's just..." But she trailed off, staring perplexedly at something over Colin's head. He turned to look, as did Ron and Harry.

    "Good grief, now what?" Ron asked with annoyance.

    "She," Hermione said forcefully, pointing at a tall female Gryffindor, "is DEFINITELY new." Ron scowled again.

    "Hermione, give it up!! You can't be expected to know everyone!" he admonished.

    "But she's a Gryffindor!! We would certainly know everyone in our own house, with the exception of the first years, and they haven't even been Sorted yet!! I really think there's something strange going on." Harry couldn't help the slight feeling of unease that settled over him at Hermione's words. The girl at the other end of the table didn't look that familiar. She was tall, with gingery hair and a pretty, nondescript face. She could, he thought, be a million girls. He wasn't as inclined to the theories Hermione seemed to be having about this strange student, but the more he watched the more he noticed strange things: that while surrounded by people she wasn't taking part in any conversation, and she seemed so old, though he was sure she couldn't be more than a fourth or fifth year. Her head began to turn in his direction and he snapped his eyes back down to his plate, his heart beating fast.

    'What is wrong with you?' he snapped at himself. 'She's just some girl, not Voldemort!'

    He could faintly hear Ron and Hermione still arguing about the girl, and was vaguely aware that Colin had left to sit with Ginny Weasley and his brother Dennis. He closed his eyes against the moving blurs of color around him and the dull roar of conversation. His scar began to throb like a slow, steady drumbeat.

    Then suddenly, all conversation in the Great Hall died.

    Professor McGonagall had mounted the platform at the front of the hall, with all the new first years off to one side, all of them looking big-eyed and frightened. The Professor turned to the Hall and took a breath.

    "Due to circumstances beyond our control," she began, "the Sorting will not take place tonight. We will have to postpone the ceremony until...until another time." A buzz of confusion rolled up from the tables. Harry furrowed his own brow, the pain in his scar forgotten. He scanned the platform with his eyes, trying to determine what was wrong. He saw Professor McGonagall talking in hushed tones to Professor Dumbledore, a scroll of parchment clenched tight in her hand. Colin had been wrong, she hadn't lost the list. Then what was the matter?

    Harry turned his eyes to the first years, looking even more frightened and confused. In front of them sat the familiar three-legged stool upon which they would sit to wear the Sorting Hat and be divided into their houses. Looking at the bare top of the little stool, Harry realized with start what must have happened.

    The Sorting Hat had disappeared.