Chapter One

A cold, high pitched laugh filled the room. Flashes of green flew by and the sound of shouts echoed off the walls. The usual house tables that lined the Great Hall were now broken and toppled over. An endless chasm of darkness took over the ceiling where students could usually see the starry night sky. Someone called out.

"Please," the voice rasped. "Help me."

He turned, coming face to face with a handsome, freckled face that could only belong to Fred Weasley. His red hair looked even redder matted with blood. As soon as he finished speaking, a blast of green light passed, hitting Fred squarely in the chest. His eyes went blank and his face became still as he plummeted to the ground.

"No!"

Two figures rushed by, their attention fixed on the other end of the room. One was wearing shabby, patched robes and tawny hair that had begun to gray at the roots, and the other had unmistakable bright pink hair.

"Don't!"

Remus and Tonks toppled over as more bursts of vivid green raced past. They hit the floor with a resounding thud, and a scream pierced through the chaos, bringing silence to the hall….

"Harry?"

Harry awoke with a start, moving so suddenly that he accidentally turned and fell out of his bed onto a creaky wooden floor. He let out an "oof" and pressed his hand to his forehead.

"Is it your scar?" Hermione peered at the raven-haired boy with alarm. She quickly glanced to the lightning shaped scar on his forehead as if she could see pain radiating off of him. "Is it hurting again? Did you…. did you see him?"

"What? No!" Harry exclaimed, pushing himself into a sitting position behind the crouched Hermione. He kept his hand pressed against his skull. "I just hit my head against the floor when I fell out of bed. Thanks for that, by the way," he added sarcastically.

"Sorry, it's just, you were screaming quite a bit." The crazed panic behind Hermione's eyes faded a bit, but she still looked concerned. She settled down so she was sitting next to him, their backs against the bed.

"Nightmares," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the ground. Even after everything, Harry hated to admit to Hermione that he was having night terrors. He couldn't bear to remind his friends of the devastating losses they had suffered at the Battle of Hogwarts. If Fred's face haunted Harry's dreams, he couldn't possibly imagine the horrors that Ron was going through.

Not to mention the fact that he didn't want to give either of his best friends yet another reason to coddle him. He appreciated how gentle they were being with him, but he was tired of being treated like he was made of glass and about to shatter.

"About what?" she said. Like she had to ask.

"Dementors," Harry lied vaguely. It was an awful lie, and Harry knew it, and from the way Hermione squinted at him, he could tell she knew it too. But luckily, she seemed to accept his answer for the time being and didn't press any further.

"Alright," Hermione nodded, standing up. "Anyway, breakfast is ready downstairs." She offered her hand to Harry. He took it and stood alongside her.

"Where's Ron?" Harry's eyes flitted around the room, searching for any sign of the tuffs of red hair and sprinkle of freckles that branded the Weasley family.

"In the kitchen."

Harry grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and followed Hermione downstairs. He sat down at the table next to Ron and across from Charlie, whose red hair was now falling into his face. Normally, Mrs. Wealsey would have never allowed Charlie's hair to get so long, but given everything that had happened, she had hardly noticed.

Charlie originally came home for Fred's funeral, but he had stuck around that entire summer. Even though he never said it, Harry suspected that Mrs. Weasley wanted someone around to help keep an eye on George once all the other Weasley siblings had gone off to Hogwarts.

"Hey Charlie," Harry said. Charlie glanced up from that morning's Daily Prophet, and smiled at Harry.

"Morning Harry." He returned his attention to the paper.

The headline read The Boy Who Lived Returns to Hogwarts. Harry cocked his head slightly so he could read the article.

Harry Potter, aged 18 years old, is returning to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year. Potter was supposed to complete his final year of schooling last year, but it's common knowledge that he opted out of his studies to instead pursue his mission to defeat Voldemort, formerly known as He Who Must Not Be Named, alongside his sidekicks and companions, Hermione Ginger and Ronald Weasley.

Although the Ministry has decided that this seventh year at Hogwarts is optional for all-of-age wizards and witches, Potter, along with most of his classmates, has decided to return. Of course, for all underage wizards, continuation of Hogwarts education is mandatory.

More on page 11….

Harry rolled his eyes. It was nice that the Daily Prophet was no longer calling Harry a crazed lunatic, but the constant attention was exhausting. Everytime he left the house, he was surrounded by reporters and photographers eager to report on Harry's latest adventures, even if those adventures merely consisted of going shopping or visiting Andromeda and Teddy.

Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room, carrying several plates teeming with various breakfast foods. She set the platters down on the table and smiled at Harry.

"Good morning dear." She glanced around the table. "Where is everybody? Hermione! Arthur! Ginny! George! Fr-" She stopped herself and her face went blank. Her eyes nervously flitted around the room, hoping no one heard what she was about to say. No one but Harry seemed to notice, so Harry kept his head down and pretended that he hadn't heard Mrs. Weasley start to call out for her dead son. When he looked up from his empty plate, her eyes were shiny.

"I'm just going to go clean up in the kitchen a bit. You all dig in," she said hurriedly, her voice thick with oncoming tears.

Charlie and Harry silently watched as she left the room. Gradually, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, and Ginny ambled in and took their seats at the table.

Ginny sat next to Harry and shot him a smile. He returned it, but quickly looked away from her and started piling his plate with food. All throughout last year, Ginny was one of the only things on Harry's mind. She was a huge part of the reason why he kept going. And after the war, he assumed that everything would go back to normal, or as normal as it could be, and Ginny and him would be together again. But so far, that hadn't happened yet.

Not for lack of trying on Ginny's part; every chance she had, she not-so-subtly hinted that she wanted their relationship to start again, but Harry just wasn't ready. And if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure he ever would be.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley sat down at the table, her eyes considerably drier.

"This is a load of rubbish!" Ron said from behind his newspaper. He picked it up once Charlie had finished and was now examining the front page. "Sidekicks? Really?"

Hermione snatched the paper out of his hands.

"At least they spelled your name correctly," Hermione pointed out. "Apparently I'm Hermione Ginger."

Ginny snorted and tried to steal a glance at the paper, having to lean across Harry to do so. George wandered into the room as Hermione turned to page eleven and started to read aloud.

"The Boy Who Lived has remained relatively reclusive this summer, only being sighted outside of the Weasley residence on occasion to go to the local market or visit with friends.

"However, given Potter's return to Hogwarts, we suspect that he will have to make a trip to Diagon Alley to fetch some school supplies." Hermione set down the paper.

"That makes it sound like they're going to ambush you as soon as you set foot outside the house!" Ron said, laughing.

"Probably will," A voice piped up from the end of the table. Everyone turned to see George. It was as if the now lone Weasley twin had aged five years over the course of two months. He was smiling, but his eyes looked tired, sad. Harry noticed he had lost weight, so his clothes now hung off of him limply. "They really had a field day when you went into town with mum."

"If you think about it, it's actually sort of impressive how they managed to write a four page article about it." Charlie chuckled.

They leisurely finished breakfast, and Harry went back upstairs after he helped Mrs. Weasley clean up. Hermione and Ron followed him, and Harry and Ron spent the remainder of the morning playing Wizard's Chess while Hermione read.

"What are you reading anyways?" Ron asked while they were walking downstairs for lunch. "It's not like we have any homework."

"I'm reviewing," she said. "We've been away from school for a whole year, and I don't want to fall behind. If you knew what's good for you, you'd do the same." She looked pointedly at Harry and Ron.

"Well we don't know what's good for us," Ron joked. "That's why we've got you." He grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it. She blushed and Harry looked away, pretending like he hadn't noticed.

Harry had spent a lot of that summer pretending not to notice things. Like the way Ron and Hermione sometimes casually held hands, or the fact that they snuck out after dinner almost every night. Of course, they always invited Harry along, but he knew that they would really rather spend that time alone, so he always refused.

It wasn't that he was surprised or that he didn't approve of his two friends being a couple. He always knew this day would come, and Hermione and Ron were good for each other. But it was still weird to suddenly feel so left out.

"Oh good, you're down!" Mrs. Weasley bustled over to the three friends when they reached the kitchen. "Your Hogwarts letters have arrived!"

Sure enough, three tawny owls were sitting on the table carrying three wax sealed envelopes. Harry, Ron, and Herminone hurried over to their owls and untied their letters. Harry felt the familiar sting of grief as he thought of Hedwig, but pushed the thought out of his mind and ripped open the envelope.

He skimmed over the usual introduction letter and turned his attention over to the supplies list.

Seventh Year Students will need:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk

Advanced Dark Art Defense by Gillian Marshwood

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered: Advanced Potions by Gregory Elder

Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

The Deadly and Divine: A Study in Herbology by Deila Hilda

Dress Robes (for special occasions)

"Merlin, is there going to be another Triwizard Tournament?" Ron whined.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Dress robes are on the list again. I hope mum can get me some decent ones this time."

"They wouldn't have another Tournament." Hermione paused. "Would they?"

"Doubt it," Harry said darkly. "Just look at how well it turned out the last time."

The three of them looked over their lists for a few more minutes before Hermione broke the silence.

"I'm Head Girl," Hermione breathed. She looked up from her letter and Harry saw tears lining her eyes.

"That's amazing Hermione!" Harry smiled at her. If anyone deserved to be Head Girl, it was certainly Hermione.

"Like anybody's surprised," Ron joked, and Hermione thwacked him with her letter.

"You could at least congratulate me!"

"I'm proud of you 'Mione, really." Ron quickly assured her. "But all I'm saying is, we all sort of expected this." Hermione shot him a death glare. "I mean, you are the most talented witch of our generation," he added hastily.

Hermione smiled and gave Ron a hug. After the initial excitement of Hermione's announcement wore off, the three friends went back to examining their school lists.

"I suppose it's the Daily Prophet's lucky day." She turned to Harry. "Looks like you're going to have to pay a visit to Diagon Alley after all."

The next day, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley family set off early in the morning for Diagon Alley. They spent most of that morning finding all their school books and avoiding various reporters. By the time noon rolled around, Harry was starving and ready to sit down. Unfortunately, he still had to buy his dress robes, as his old ones from fourth year were far too small for him now.

He stepped into Madam Malkin's and was immediately greeted by the stares of several onlookers in the shop. He quickly made his way past them and searched for the dress robes section of the store.

"Dress robes?" Someone asked Harry, as if reading his mind. He turned around to see Madam Malkin beaming at him.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Well, come this way and we'll get you all fitted." She ushered him to the back of the shop, where he remembered being fitted for his first set of dress robes seven years ago. "Been getting Hogwarts kids asking for dress robes all day. Is there another Tournament this year?"

Harry shrugged. He stepped up and Madam Malkin began to measure him. He was thankful that she still treated him the same as she always had; it was nice to not be gawked at. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of white blond hair and he gritted his teeth.

Draco Malfoy was looking through rows of sleek, black robes and receiving almost as many stares as Harry. He kept his head down and his focus on the clothes as if he didn't notice all the attention he was getting.

Harry expected his blood to boil at the sight of Malfoy, but he was surprised to find that he only felt a race of shock looking at his former nemesis. The blonde boy seemed to find what he was looking for. He carried a garment of shiny, silver and gold fabric over to the front of the store and placed it down in front of the cashier, who didn't see Malfoy approach, as her head was buried in a magazine.

Harry didn't get to see the cashier's reaction to Malfoy though, because Madam Malkin had finished measuring him. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did. She led him to the front of the shop.

"I think this one will do nicely." Madam Malkin pulled a long, green pair of dress robes out of a drawer and showed it off to Harry. Even though Harry knew very little of fashion, he had to admit that these robes were something.

"It's quite nice, really, but," Harry paused. "I'm in Gryffindor, so wouldn't something red or gold be better?"

Madam Malkin smiled.

"I thought you might say that. Students do love to stay true to their house colors." She shifted the garment in the light, and Harry watched as the fabric shimmered and changed from green to red. "It's color shifting fabric. The green goes with your eyes and the red fits your house."

Harry was astonished. He'd never been so impressed by an article of clothing before.

Before Harry could be too entranced with his robes however, Madam Malkin began yelling across the shop.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing here?" she bellowed. Harry turned to see where she was looking and saw the back of a familiar blonde head. "You're not welcome here."

Malfoy turned around to face Madam Malkin, a snarl on his face. He opened his mouth to retort but something stopped him and his expression softened.

"I was just leaving," he managed to say through gritted teeth. The door chimes jingled as he pushed open the front entrance and swiftly left the shop.

"Sorry about that," she muttered, folding Harry's new dress robes and placing them inside a gift bag.

Harry nodded. He had briefly forgotten Malfoy's outburst in Madam Malkin's two years ago. It seemed Madam Malkin had not.

"Thank you." Harry handed the store owner a few Galleons and took the bag.

He headed out onto the street, stomach growling and eager to meet his friends at Florian's for ice cream. As he walked, he passed Magical Menagerie and couldn't help looking in the window. His eyes flitted to the left of the shop, where he felt his heart plummet as he spotted the owls. He glanced to the other side of the room, where a lime green python slept below a large heat lamp. Harry's curiosity peaked and he stepped inside the warmly lit shop.

It wasn't that Harry was looking to buy a pet snake, in fact, ever since seeing Nagini, he'd never been able to look at a snake the same way, but he did wonder if he could still speak Parseltongue. After all, the only reason he had the ability in the first place was because Voldemort accidentally transferred some of his own powers to Harry, so it would make sense that Harry's ability to talk to snakes would die with Voldemort. Still, he had to test it.

"Hello," he said to the snake. The words sounded normal to him, but then again, Harry did have a habit of slipping into Parseltongue without realizing. He repeated himself, focusing on the snake. "Hello."

The snake made no movement in its cage; it had barely even registered that Harry was there.

"I guess not." Harry shrugged. He wasn't disappointed; being a parseltongue was of little use to him now.

He faced away from the snake cage and started towards the front door, but a flash of white and tan caught his eye. Harry whirled around and saw a small, spotted puppy.

The dog immediately noticed Harry and gave a tiny yip of recognition. It started to scratch at the fence of its pen. Harry smiled and made his way over to the little dog. He bent down over the enclosement and caught sight of a name tag reading Holly.

"Cute ain't she?" An older wizard seemed to appear out of thin air. He stood next to Harry and gave the puppy a pat on the head.

"Er- yeah," Harry stammered, taken aback by the wizard's sudden appearance. "What does she… you know, do?" The man gave Harry a quizzical look. "I mean, is she magical?" Harry suddenly felt stupid asking.

"This one? Oh no," The man laughed and scooped the pup into his arms. "She's just a dog. Found her and her mum outside in the trash bin." He plopped the dog into Harry's arms, and Harry nearly dropped her, as he hadn't expected to be handed a puppy. The man leaned over the cage and picked up an empty food dish and promptly turned and started walking away. Harry followed him to the back of the shop. "Only one of the litter who survived, poor thing. The mum wandered off as soon as I took 'em in, but she left this little one behind."

Holly snuggled up against Harry's chest and he smiled.

"She seems to like you." The wizard pointed at her. "Then again, she likes almost everyone."

"Is she for sale?" Harry found himself asking. He wasn't looking for a pet when he came in, but the cuddly puppy in his arms was starting to grow on him.

"Well yeah," The man paused. "Though I don't suppose most wizards would want a non magical dog. She's been here a few weeks and no one's shown any interest."

"I'd like to buy her." Harry surprised himself. He reached into his pocket, which was difficult given that he had to balance a now-sleeping puppy with his other hand, and pulled out a few coins. "How much?"

"Oh, well, er- I suppose a Galleon will do it. Though you'll also need some food, a bed, toys..." Harry handed the man two golden coins and walked around the shop to pick up some supplies. "Very well. Let me get you a leash."

The older wizard handed Harry a yellow and white striped leash and Harry thanked him before heading out of the shop with his new pet trotting along at his ankles.

Ron and Hermione didn't even notice Holly at first since she was so low to the ground.

"Blimey Harry, it's tiny! What does he do?" Ron exclaimed, picking up the spotted puppy.

"She. And nothing." Harry beamed. "She's just a dog."

"She is pretty cute, isn't she?" Hermione cooed as she leaned over. Harry's friends had ordered him a large sundae, and he dug in. He'd forgotten how hungry he was with all the excitement of his new dog.

"Anywhere else we need to go after this?" Harry asked. He loved Diagon Alley, but he was starting to get tired after being on his feet all day.

"We were going to stop by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Hermione said. "George is showing Charlie the ropes."

"Wait, Charlie?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron interjected, still petting Holly. "George wants to get back to work, but mum reckons that he shouldn't be running the shop alone yet, so Charlie's helping him out for the time being."

"What about Romania?"

"Romania's not going away anytime soon." Ron shrugged and shoved a spoonful of his ice cream sundae into his mouth.

Harry, Ron and Hermione decided against visiting George's shop; they didn't want to get in the way. So the three of them headed back to the Burrow, where Hermione went upstairs to pack. Ron and Harry played a few rounds of Exploding Snaps before the rest of the Weasley family arrived at home. They ate dinner and Harry turned outside for some fresh air.

He gazed up at the stars, thinking. Everything had changed, yet so much was still the same. Voldemort was gone, people had died, a war had been fought, but he was still shopping for school books in Diagon Alley and stressing about his N.E. .

Before long, someone else was beside Harry, staring up at the night sky with him.

"Hello," Ginny said quietly. She kept looking up at the sky.

"Hello," Harry replied. The sound of crickets filled the air.

"Beautiful night." Ginny glanced at Harry and he hummed in agreement. Silence befell them once again. Harry looked at Ginny.

She was as gorgeous as ever. Her vivid red hair shone a deep maroon in the moonlight, and freckles dotted her unblemished skin like the stars that speckled the night sky. Her eyes, which glowed like pools of honey in the sunlight, were now dark rings of mahogany.

She returned his gaze, her eyes taking in Harry's features. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a single word, Harry spoke.

"Well, goodnight." He made his way back into the house and up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time. It wasn't that Harry didn't enjoy Ginny's company, he did. No matter what happened between them, he knew he could always count on Ginny to be his friend, but everytime they were alone together now, it felt like she expected something of him. Something that he couldn't give her.