September 1, 1996

There is something calming about the rhythmic sound a train makes, Harry thought as he watched the passing scenery while keeping an absent ear on Luna and Neville discussion on some plant he had no chance of pronouncing the name of. He allowed his mind to wander free, the mechanic sounds that came from the tracks working like magic.

He was of two minds about this journey. On one hand, he was going home. But he had enjoyed his time at Burrow and the freedom that came with. He had done whatever he desired except for a garden degnoming or two but even that was fun. The little bastards were amusing, shaking their little fists and making rude gestures.

The most problematic part of going back to Hogwarts was his meditation exercises. He had no idea how he would fit them into his schedule and where he would exercise. I'll just have to figure that out, won't I?

Hermione and Ron returned to the compartment from their prefects' meeting after twenty minutes of absence, arguing as usual. "... have another thing coming, Ronald!"

Harry rolled his eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow at Ron, who shook his head. "It was just a candy, Hermione, geez!"

Hermione just shook her head and threw herself next to Luna. "I love that even with everything changing around us, you two never stop fighting, like siblings," Harry said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Hermione started and glanced at Ron with wide eyes like she was seeing him for the first time. Meanwhile, Ron flushed, the redness of his face making his freckles all the more obvious, and shook head. "What siblings? I thought everyone said we bicker like an old married couple?" he asked, honestly confused by all of it.

"I don't see it," Harry disagreed. "I mean compare it to your family. I've never seen your parents bicker. But you, the twins, Ginny and Percy, you are always at each other's throats even though you obviously love each other."

That's when the compartment door opened once again, by a breathless girl who looked to be a year or two younger than Harry. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to talk but faltered at the five faces looking at her expectantly, her wide eyes focussed on Harry.

Harry smiled at the shy girl. "What's your name?"

"Ke-Kelly," the girl blushed and stammered.

"Hi, Ke-Kelly. I'm Ronald Weasley," he said with the same smile.

"No, you're not!" the girl said, no longer shy but indignant. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry scratched his head and winked at the beaming Luna. "Are you sure? I could swear I woke up Ron this morning."

The girl stomped her foot, "Yes, you are. Now, will you stop acting like a fool so I can give you these bloody invitations Professor Slughorn sent?"

His eyebrows raising at surprise, the fool nodded. "You've got a dirty mouth," he said to the girl and paused with a grin. "I like it."

The girl rolled her eyes but couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks. "One for you, one for Neville Longbottom and one for Hermione Granger."

As soon as the girl delivered the invitations and left, Harry groaned and hit his head on the wall on his back. "I didn't think he'd start so early."

"Who's Slughorn and what did he start?" asked Neville, looking at his invitation as if it was a great puzzle.

The only boy who met the professor shrugged and stood, leaving it to Hermione to explain. It wasn't that Harry had anything against his new potions professor; he didn't know the man enough to dislike him, but chatting him and lord knows who else up wasn't a priority on his to-do list.

As the three friends traversed the corridors, the hair on the back of Harry's head stood to notice. He would have been worried, if he wasn't all too aware of the looks he received from his fellow students. Not knowing how he felt about the stares filled with hope and awe, he ignored them. Don't look at me like I owe you something. Not after the treatment you gave me last year, he screamed at them in his head, keeping his calm on the outside. I guess I'm still a little bitter about last year.

They finally reached the compartment C per Slughorn's instructions and walked in after knocking on the door. "Ah, Harry, my boy, it's good to see you again."

Harry put a smile on his face and shook the portly man's hand. "It's good to see you, Professor. I was glad to have heard you accepted Professor Dumbledore's offer."

The professor laughed and patted Harry on the back, leading him further into the compartment with a lavish table. "How could I refuse the chance to teach a bright man like you?" He turned to Harry's two companions and gave a once-over to Hermione. "And this must be Miss Granger you told me all about." He winked at Harry. "The brightest witch of her age, eh? It seems you Potter men have a type."

Hermione blushed and looked at Harry questioningly as the boy smiled widely. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" He put a hand on Neville's shoulder, looking away from Hermione just in time to miss her surprised and confused expression. "And sir, allow me to introduce Neville Longbottom, the boy with the greenest thumb you'll find on this side of the sphere."

"Ah, yes, Alice and Frank's baby boy. How are you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I-I'm well, sir, thank you."

The man seemed to space out for a moment before he returned to the present. "Well, what are you waiting for? Settle down. I arranged for us to have a little lunch."

Harry and his friends did so, Harry at the centre with Hermione to his right and Neville to his left. As soon as they settled on their seats, Hermione leaned in to whisper, "You told him about me?"

"I did," Harry confirmed with a nod as he put a napkin on his legs like he'd seen in the movies with fancy table settings. "You were a big part of my pitch."

"Oh, and what a pitch it was, let me tell you," Slughorn joined them a jovial tone, pouring wine on both of their glasses. "Expertly done for a boy your age. First act humble and establish yourself as an easy pray, then go for the jugular."

"Not so expertly done, sir, if I was so easy to read," Harry said humbly and with a wink.

The man gave a bellyful laugh at Harry's reopening act as he moved to his own seat. "I've been a teacher since... let's say a long time ago. I know a thing or two about how students think."

"What do I have to do with it?" Hermione asked before she blushed and added, "Sir?"

"A little impatient, aren't we?" the potions master asked with amusement colouring his voice as Harry glanced around at the other students in the table, recognising only three. Blaise Zabini, a black boy in Harry's year from Slytherin; Cormac McLaggen, a seventh year Gryffindor; and Ginny, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Harry turned his attention back to Hermione to explain, "I used you as a bate. I told Dumbledore he should have taken you with him instead, that you were better at everything."

"And it was a genius move when you think about it," Slughorn added with a touch of pride, though Harry had no idea why the man would be proud of him. "He made you out to be someone better at magic than the Chosen One."

"Think about it this way," Harry said when he saw Hermione's confused expression, "What would you think if Dumbledore mentioned someone as his better? I'm already famous, my accomplishments are easy to discover. You are an unknown still, and it's easier to fall for a mystery than a flesh and blood."

"Wow," butted in Zabini, a disdainful look on his eyes. "I knew you were arrogant but this? Comparing yourself to Dumbledore? Man, that takes the cake."

Harry ignored the uncomfortable grimace on Slughorn's face and gave the boy a deadpan look. "Well, I am the most well-known name of our age, just like Dumbledore is of his. And seeing as our new Professor here," he nodded towards Slughorn, "Had only second-hand knowledge of my talents, I had wiggle room to make that comparison." He shook his head at the disdain all Slytherins seemed to have for him.

The black boy scoffed. "Fine, you may have a point there, but overselling Granger? Really?"

Harry threw a wide smirk at the boy. "Did you know Hermione brewed Polyjuice potion in our second year?" Ignoring the shocked looks of everyone and embarrassed squeak of Hermione, he continued, "You didn't? That's understandable. Did you hear she received eleven 'Outstanding' and one 'Exceeds Expectations in her OWLs, rivaling the likes of Dumbledore and Tom Riddle? Or she can cast a fully corporeal patronus? No? Well, we'll chalk your snide comment up to ignorance then."

Harry couldn't be sure because of the boy's skin tone but he thought he saw a blush.

"Brewed Polyjuice at such a young age," Slughorn said, awed by Hermione's accomplishments. "Extraordinary."

"That, she is," Harry whispered with a soft smile aimed at the brown-eyed girl who blushed like a monochromic Christmas tree.

"Shut up," Hermione hissed under her breath to the green-eyed boy," Before I faint due to blood rush to the head."

Harry snorted and patted the girl on the shoulder, his hand lingering longer than necessary. "Just an unbiased observation, Hermione. You are extraordinary," he insisted, keeping his voice low to keep their conversation private as the professor stroke up a conversation with other students at the table.

The rest of the lunch went by in a better mood, Slughorn asking everyone about their parents and talking about the people he knows. Everyone in the room realised he was trying to strike up a report with his chosen students as he was making no effort to make it seem natural. He did make sure to involve Harry in most of the conversations, marking the boy as an early favourite of his.

The sky was already darkening when the four friends left the compartment, each more tired than usual as the tension bled out of their bodies. Harry watched as Zabini entered the same cabin as Malfoy and considered joining him under his invisibility cloak for a fleeting moment, but decided not to.

As they made their way back to their compartment and to Luna and Ron, Harry bumped into someone's back, knocking them both off balance and to the ground, Harry landing on top of the unfortunate girl. Only I would manage to land on top of my ex, Harry thought as he blushed at the proximity of the beautiful girl's face, remembering a time not so long ago when those pink lips were on his.

He stood up abruptly and took a cursory look around before he held out his hand to help Cho. The oriental girl smiled back shyly and took the offered hand.

"Thanks-"

"Sorry-"

The two nervous children chuckled after they spoke simultaneously, the shared amusement easing the tension both felt. "Can we talk?" Harry asked suddenly, surprising even himself.

The raven-haired beauty nodded and looked down to hide her blush, failing miserably.

The raven-haired boy turned to his friends, two of which were glaring at him while the only male was grinning. "I'll see you guys back at the compartment in a few."

Both girls huffed and left, throwing their hair in an odd show of synchronisation, leaving behind a befuddled Neville who shrugged. "Sure, Harry. Hurry, though, we are just about there and we still need to change."

"Will do, Nev, thanks." Harry watched his friend walk away before turning to his once-paramour and taking in her appearance. She looked beautiful in her short, black skirt that allowed for a nice view of her long legs, and her tight, dark blue blouse, that clutched her torso like a second skin. "Walk with me?"

The girl nodded, and they set a slow pace as they both gathered up their courage. "I'm sorry-" they began at the same time once again, chuckling right after once again.

Harry took the lead the next time, wanting to get the guilt off his chest. "I'm sorry for how I acted last year. I was rude and inconsiderate. A berk."

"No, it was my fault," the girl disagreed. "I was a mess, and I dragged you into my confusion and frustration."

The boy smiled at the girl, amused that they were so in synch only now when they weren't dating. "Let's agree that we both messed up. We weren't in any position to make a relationship work, were both damaged goods."

"Agreed," the girl said with a nod, making her hair fall in front of her face. She huffed it away, or at least tried, and failed, before using her hand to accomplish it, taking her frustration out on her dark tresses.

Harry stopped walking and shuffled his feet nervously, unsure about how he should go about the next part. Screwing up his face and gathering his courage, he went with brutal honesty. "And I'm sorry, you were right."

Cho looked confused for all of three seconds before understanding set in her face, proving why she was in Ravenclaw by figuring Harry's mystery apology quicker than most could. "It's okay," she said, and seeing Harry's surprise, she insisted, "Really, it is. I can't say I'm not disappointed but I know you yourself were confused about your emotions. I know I was. About you, about Cedric. Last year just wasn't a good year for either of us."

"Yeah," the boy agreed, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, and I'm sorry I was so hard on you about your friend, Marietta. I'm still mad at her for betraying us but I guess I understand why she did."

The girl smiled brightly, reminding Harry one of the reasons he had become obsessed with her in the first place. "So, you'll fix her face?"

Harry smiled back, relieved that they found a common ground on all of their issues. "I don't even know what sort of spell it was, but I'll talk to Hermione and find out if I can get her to do it."

"Thanks," the girl said, giving Harry's arm a squeeze before snatching her hand away like it was on fire, some awkwardness returning. "I... Can I ask you for something?"

"Sure."

"I-" She huffed and screwed up her courage. "Can I kiss you?" she asked and hastily added when she saw Harry's apprehension, "Just one kiss. The only time we kissed; I was crying, and you were a statue, and I don't want to look back and wonder..."

Come on, Potter! I understand I have decided to pursue a relationship with Hermione but when a beautiful girl asks to kiss you, you say yes! There is nothing between you and Hermione yet! Come on! Why am I frozen? God dammit, not again! Kiss her! Oh, no, she looks like she will cry. After that last thought, Harry plunged ahead, catching the girl by a surprise with his lips all over her. It took Cho only a few moments to respond. Now, this is more like it, Harry thought as he deepened the kiss, enjoying the sensations coursing through his body, especially in lower regions.

They broke apart after what felt like wondrous hours but was probably a minute at most, both breathing hard, both with wide smiles on their faces. "If you don't mind, I'll consider this my first kiss instead of that disaster last year," Harry wheezed out in between breaths.

"Understandable," Cho said before taking his hand and pulling him to an empty compartment and reattaching herself at Harry's lips.

Harry responded to the kiss with equal fervour, his hormones demanding he do so, before his doubts crept back into his mind and he gently pushed the girl away. He looked her in the eye and gulped at the desire he witnessed there, feeling like a prey under a lioness' gaze. "We shouldn't. I... I want to pursue whatever this is I have for Hermione and I don't want to lead you on."

"Who said anything about leading on?" Cho smiled hungrily, making Harry feel like he was a piece of tasty meat.

How is that a bad thing?

"We are just two people, enjoying each other. This," she pointed between them as she closed the distance," need not leave this compartment. It doesn't have to turn into anything more than a fling, a moment of ecstasy," she said the last part in a low, seductive tone, making Harry shiver.

I am doing it again! Why question a pretty girl who's throwing herself at you? And even though Harry's second mind, one he didn't know he possessed, insisted, he had enough control of his faculties, and enough strength of character to make sure. "Are you sure? I feel like we are at a good place in our relationship and I don't want there to be any hard feelings."

Cho rolled her pretty eyes and ghosted her hand over Harry's chest before finding his hair and playing with it. "I'm sure, Harry. This doesn't leave the compartment and doesn't mean a future for us." She leaned in and captured his lips again, her arms snaking around Harry's neck and pulling him to her.

Harry's hands found her waist as he moaned into the kiss at the feel of her body and their kiss turned hungrier. Cho's hands left his neck to push his chest, manoeuvring him to the bench. As soon as Harry's back hit the seat, Cho was on top of him, straddling him and moving in hypnotic and highly pleasurable motions, driving Harry crazy.

Harry felt daring and grabbed a handful of the girl's bum, massaging it. That action earned him an erotic moan that was a torture to his libido, making his want, his desire, simply more, and she showed her appreciation by grinding herself on him more fervently. Harry's pants felt too tight like he was about to burst them open or he was about to burst, period.

Cho's amplifying moans showed she was having a similar rise to the top, her rhythmic movements on Harry quickening with passion. Her lips left his, eliciting a disappointed moan from Harry, before they found his jugular and sucked, turning his moans into that of utmost pleasure. Harry slipped his hand under her skirt, enjoying the warmth of her behind as he kneaded both firm cheeks.

He felt pleasure and pressure rise and rise until there were nowhere to go but down and he burst with loud moans and grunts, copied by the girl on top of him.

He returned to consciousness at the same time with the girl on top of him, both breathing heavier than during the most demanding Quidditch match they played. Both grinning like fools, with red faces and joyful eyes.

Cho gave the boy chaste kisses on all over his face, leaving burning sensations behind before she leaned back to look at him in the eye with a grin, still not leaving her comfortable seat on him. "Don't you feel stupid for resisting now?"

Harry chuckled, feeling on top of the world like nothing could touch him. "Damn right, I do. That was..." he trailed off, unable to come up with any word other than 'pleasurable' and unwilling to say that word in case it brought him back to life so soon.

"It's good that you know, now, resistance is futile." Cho gave him another kiss before she stood and fixed her ruffled attire and dishevelled hair. She looked at him with a grin, her eyes sparkling. "Just so you know, I wouldn't be opposed to a repeat performance. Something to keep in mind." She moved toward the door but stopped before leaving and rushed back to give Harry one last kiss, taking her time with it. She hurried out the door but not before throwing him a cheeky wink, knowing the last kiss left Harry breathless.

"Minx," Harry groused once he gathered his breath and stood to return to his friends. A quick wave of his wand to learn the time later, his pace increased, only now realising how long their little escapade took. He entered the compartment to find a somewhat tense silence. Neville was shifting on his seat nervously while next to him, Ron was grinning widely. Hermione was glaring out the window at something only she could see, same as Ginny, and Luna was...

Well, she is Luna. That's all I need to say about her.

He ignored the warning signs and made for his trunk to take out his school robe.

He had half out when Hermione deemed to acknowledge his presence. "Did you have a nice conversation?"

"Yep," Harry said cheerfully, not recognising the danger signs in her voice. "I apologised, she apologised, we agreed there wasn't a future for us at this time and to stay friends."

He stood and turned to Hermione to find her staring at him puzzled, her expression copied by everyone else but Luna. "Then why are your clothes and hair all ruffled?"

"Oh, we had a little make-out session," Harry answered nonchalantly, unwilling to lie to her. Though if he was honest with himself, he'd admit he also wanted to find out her reaction. He wasn't disappointed as her eyes flashed with anger, fueled by jealousy, he hoped.

"Wait, you just said-" Ginny started but Harry cut her off.

"Last year, both of us were so messed up that our only kiss was a disaster," he explained as he took a seat next to Ron. "And our date... Well, the less said about it, the better. The point is, neither of us had anything good to remember our relationship by. I didn't want to remember her as the girl with wet kisses and she didn't want to remember me as the boy who freaked out when she kissed him and who left her in the middle of a date. So, we agreed to have one last, and first, make-out session to get whatever desires we had for each other out of our systems."

"So, that's it?" Ron asked, disappointed.

"Well, she did say she wouldn't say no to a repeat performance, but I don't think I will take her up on her offer."

Hermione cocked her head to a side and frowned. "Why not?"

Harry looked her right in the eye and smiled as he answered, "I have someone else in mind for girlfriend department. Someone who I think will be an extraordinary match for me."

And that was it. Though his friends continued to pepper him with questions, he stayed tight-lipped as the train rushed towards their destination, unwilling to kiss and tell.

Whoever said there is no place like home was right, Harry thought as the magnificent castle of Hogwarts appeared in its undisputed glory behind the trees. The green-eyed wizard sensed a tingle of welcome in his spine even at this distance and his breath hitched at the rush of warmth and so many other emotions.

I wonder, he mused, if my home loves me as much as I love it?

The young wizard closed his eyes, letting himself experience the magic of the school even more by muting his five senses and focusing on the sixth.

For the last week, his meditation techniques had brought forth a new side effect, a wondrous one: he could sense magic. Not see, smell, hear, taste or feel magic. Sense magic. The sensations were nothing like any of those five senses. So, he dubbed it the sixth sense. And hey, maybe this is the sixth sense some Muggles claim to possess.

So, when he closed his eyes and opened his mind to it, he could sense, albeit weakly, the school's magic as tendrils of it wrapped around him in a tender embrace and whispered sweet-nothings he was unable to decipher in his ears.

He giggled as he opened his eyes with a new shine to them and turned a wide smile at his friends. "I fucking love this place."

"Must you be so crass, Harry?" Hermione complained, though, the small smile on her lips betrayed her joy.

Harry winked at his always proper friend and shared a grin with his almost always improper one. Perhaps they sense it too. "Yes, I must, because saying 'I love this place' just doesn't convey how much I do."

Not a bad start to the semester.

| O |

September 2, 1996

Damn you, Hogwarts, for forcing me to wake up at such an early hour and endure this stairway to hell, Harry thought as he groggily made his way down the moving stairs. Even in his half-asleep state, he enjoyed the tingle of amusement that went down on his spine as the stairs he was on top of changed directions, taking him away from his destination. This is getting ridiculous! At this speed, I'll never make it to class, let alone breakfast.

This had been happening all morning, whenever he stepped on a staircase, it moved. He had, as of that moment, spent half an hour on the stairs, trying and failing to get to the ground floor. The castle was playing with him like he was a rat in a magical maze and Harry was stuck between amusement and exasperation.

Harry glanced around, looking for an alternative way down to Great Hall. He realised he was on this floor for the third time and had only two options; climb the stairs back and wait for it to move again or enter the corridor Hogwarts definitely wanted him to enter.

He shrugged his shoulders and did as Hogwarts bid and was assaulted by an intense satisfaction. Who thought it was a good idea to turn a bloody building self-aware? Still, there was nothing he could do but to follow his home's suggestions, so he traversed the corridor, his mind waking up in case of another one of his adventures. He may love the castle but his faced far too many dangers in it to not stay vigilant.

Odd statues of wizards and witches in various fighting stances and with different injuries lined up on both sides of the fourth-floor corridor. He thought nothing of the statues until he passed one that looked just like him. He froze mid-step and slowly turned around. This is freaky.

Any doubt he had of the statue's origin vanished when he took in the details. It wasn't just the hair, the scar, the clothes the stone boy had that sealed the deal, it was the other details. The statue carried a sword far too big for his small hands, the name of the founder of Harry's house carved into the deadly work of art. On his other hand, he had a huge fang with poison and blood dripping off of it, the poison Harry was familiar with and blood Harry carried in his veins. The boy was holding on to right forearm gingerly to stop the bleeding, his clothes covered in his life's blood and dirt.

Harry looked at himself as he was right after he killed the basilisk just as a fang pierced his arm. The pain, desperation and determination on his face choked him up as he remembered the chaos of the moment and the simplicity. He had known, at that moment the statue depicted, he would die and all that was left was taking his murderer with him and saving an innocent girl's life.

After what felt like hours but probably wasn't more than a few minutes of taking in the statue and remembering the moment, Harry glanced down at the foot of it, to the golden plaque there. Written on it in blood red was 'Harry Potter - 25/05/1992'.

He kneeled in front of himself and reached out with a shaky hand to touch the plaque, dragging his hand tenderly on the writing. A sense of admiration, appreciation and pride surged through him as soon as he touched it, and he lost the fight to his tears as all those emotions, mixed with acceptance and welcome, hit him at full force, opening a damn and stealing sobs from him.

Harry didn't know how long he kneeled there, crying yet feeling more peaceful and content than he ever had in his short life, more than even during or after his brief encounter with Cho at the express. The young boy stood on shaky, numb legs and cleaned his face as much as he can with the sleeve of his robes, not wanting anyone to see the evidence of his emotions.

To the left of an ornate, wooden door with intricate carvings of various runes on it, a torched flared briefly, catching Harry's eyes and telling him where he needed to go next. Harry pushed open the door to a large room, almost half as big as Great Hall, empty except the dozens of chairs lined up against one wall. This is perfect for D.A, Harry realised as he understood why the castle led him there. There is no need for secrecy so no need to hole up in Room of Requirements.

All he needed now to restart was a few targets and reference books on defence. There was nothing he could do in there at the moment so Harry left, a wide smile gracing his lips. The stairs complied with his needs and he made it to Great Hall with a skip on his steps, his book bag dangling on his shoulder.

Without slowing down, he made his way to where his friends sat, whispering to each other furiously, and sat heavily next to Hermione, causing her to jump up.

"Harry! Where have you been? You almost missed the breakfast. Professor McGonagall was furious," Hermione said in one breath, surprising Harry with her lung capacity once again.

Before Harry could answer, the said professor stomped her way to them, her lips pressed together and eyes narrowed. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Potter."

"Did you know there is a statue of me on the fourth floor, Professor?" Harry asked after turning around to face the music. The professor's face screwed up in confusion while her eyes and mouth opened in surprise. "Imagine my surprise when the moving staircases led me there, insistently I might add, and I came across a stone version of myself."

"That's ridiculous, Potter," the transfiguration mistress claimed when she gathered her wits.

Harry smiled and leaned back. "You would think so, right? Oh, and I found the perfect classroom for D.A at the end of the same corridor, leading me to believe my involuntary expedition was for a purpose."

McGonagall seemed unsure whether she wanted to reprimand him for making up stories or to faint in surprise. "Why don't you show me this incredible discovery while we create your schedule," she asked, the order clear in her tone.

Harry nodded but didn't leave his seat. "Can I, at least, grab a sandwich? I'm famished and I don't doubt I must endure Snape's class today. I think none of us wants to learn what happens when a hungry Potter meets a... well, regular Snape."

"That's five points for disrespecting a teacher, Potter. Do hurry. The classes will begin in less than half an hour."

After Harry made short work of preparing himself a sandwich, he led McGonagall and his friends, who refused to stay back, to the fourth floor. "That's Godric Gryffindor," Hermione announced in a shocked voice, pointing at the first statue on the left.

Harry stepped next to her and examined the statue with interest, only now realising the tall and muscular man had the same sword in his hand that his statue did. "Really?"

"There is no portrait of him but there are books describing how he looked," Hermione explained with a nod. "And the plaque at the bottom of the statue was a big clue."

The boy snorted as he saw the plaque and bumped the girl's shoulder with his.

"You didn't know this was him, did you?" she asked, amusement colouring her voice.

"I was in a hurry and there are so many statues in this castle, I find stopping to examine them in detail to be far too time-consuming," Harry defended himself, raising his nose.

McGonagall looked as if she wanted to stay in front of the statue of the red-headed man for many years, but gathered herself. "Enough dillydallying. Let us see this statue of yours, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and led them deeper into the corridor, stopping in front of his likeness and waving his hand towards it, "Tada!"

He turned around to see three friends and a professor gawking at the statue in shock, mouths hanging open.

A few minutes in silence later, McGonagall regained her mental faculties first. "And you have no idea who's behind this?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not vain enough to carve a statue of myself and the only one who could depict that scene accurately would be Professor Dumbledore. Somehow, I doubt he's behind this."

"Th-That's the fang that pierced your arm?" Hermione asked in a shaky voice and wide, teary eyes. Harry nodded, smiling softly at the girl.

"A bloody dagger, more like," Ron commented, white as a sheet. "Literally bloody," he added when McGonagall turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

Ginny, meanwhile, was shaking where she stood, looking at where the stone Harry's hand with the fang was, blood leaking out of the wound underneath. Only now, seeing her reaction, Harry realised how hard this must be for her, the memento of what her mistake almost cost.

Harry gently wrapped the girl in his arms, holding her head to his chest as the girl finally let go of the sobs she was holding. "Shh. It's okay, I'm fine, Ginny."

"Yo-You almost died," the red-headed girl cried, fisting his robe as she continued to sniff, making a cynical part of Harry's brain wonder if he would need to change robes. "Because of me, you almost died. All those petrified people..."

"You made a mistake and learned from it," Harry said, glancing around him, at Ron, Hermione and McGonagall for help and seeing them just as lost as he felt. "Just like what happened last year, Riddle manipulated you. You were only eleven and adapting to a new place away from your parents. You can't blame yourself."

Ginny sniffed one last time before she looked up, her brown eyes wide and beautiful. "You don't blame me?"

"I don't," Harry confirmed, much to her relief.

She cleaned her eyes on her sleeve, unknowingly copying Harry's actions from earlier before stepping away from Harry shyly.

The green-eyed wizard turned around and, ignoring McGonagall's little smile, walked towards his classroom. "This will be perfect for the association meetings. A simple room with lots of space and more than a few chairs for people to rest on."

McGonagall looked around in interest and nodded at Harry. "I see you had a productive morning, Mr. Potter, so I will refrain from docking points for your tardiness," she informed him with a tiny smirk, almost impossible to see if you don't know her. "Now, what courses do you plan on taking?"

"Defence, Transfiguration, Charms and Creatures," Harry answered straight away.

"No potions?" the professor asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to be an auror."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what I want to be, though being an auror is an option I will consider, but you said I needed an Outstanding in potions to take the NEWT-level course. I only managed Exceeded Expectations."

"That was true for Professor Snape. Professor Slughorn, on the other hand, is much more flexible about the students he accepts into his NEWT classes."

"Oh. I wish I had known. Haven't bought the sixth year potions book because I thought I wouldn't be allowed in," Harry said, scratching the back of his head and messing his hair even more.

"I'm sure Horace won't mind lending you a book until you can get your own via owl order, Mr. Potter," the teacher answered. "That makes five courses. Acceptable."

"Actually," Harry cut in before the woman could mark his timetable. "If I will take Potions, I'll drop Creatures. I only added to fill my timetable. I plan on taking Magical Theory as an extracurricular and talk to the respective professors for the possibility of one on one in Arithmancy and Runes to catch up."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise before she gave Harry a once-over like she wasn't sure of his identity. "Pray tell, where did this sudden studious nature of yours come from? That's an ambitious course load for a student with your... track record."

Harry smiled, ignoring his friends' synchronised snorts, and explained. "Bill gave me a book on curse breaking for my birthday, as you may remember. I found it very enjoyable and seeing as I don't have a well-defined career plan, I thought I'd at least make sure I have that option available." He cocked his head to a side.

The Scottish lady looked impressed and gave a nod. "I'll talk with Septima and Bathsheda and see if they can make time for you. Normally, I'd insist you take at least five courses but I'm willing to let you get away with it. Be warned, if I see you waste your free time, I will fill that time with an endless series of detentions."

Harry gave the head of his house a salute. "Yes, ma'am. It's not like Hermione won't find a project to fill my time, anyway."

The said girl huffed but didn't refute his claim while McGonagall waved her wand at the parchment in her hand. "There you go, Mr. Potter. You should hurry or you will be late to the first lesson of the semester and I'm unwilling to hear Severus complain about you this early in the term."

Harry cast a quick Tempus charm and nodded before bolting out of the classroom with his friends. Turns out, the transfiguration professor had warned them in time as they made it to the class a second before Snape emerged from his new office. "I see your new responsibility as a pseudo teacher has given you the impression you can come and go to my class as you wish, Mr. Potter. That's ten points you cost your house," the man drawled, a small smirk playing in his lips.

The boy just nodded, way too out of breath to come up with a snarky response. Which is the only way I can keep my tongue to myself, it seems.

The newly minted defence professor began a twenty-minute lecture on the wonders and dangers of dark arts, not even trying to disguise his fascination with the subject. "Now, you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a spell cast with no words?"

Hermione's hand was, predictably, the first one to rise, followed by no one else for a long moment before Harry decided to test the waters and see if Snape planned on murdering him. Something I wouldn't put past any defence professor, let alone this one.

"Very well, give us your insight, Mr. Potter," the man drawled sarcastically.

"It's a nice way to keep your opponent off balance. If you don't shout your spell at their face, they will have to make an educated guess which will steal from their response time, making defending against and counter-attacking difficult." Snape gave him a deadpan look so Harry added, "Sir."

"As much as it disgusts me to say, Mr. Potter is essentially correct. Those who can cast spells without voicing incantations will have an element of surprise against their opponent. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and," he looked right at Harry before continuing, "mind power which some lack."

I hate how good he is in insulting me without insulting me.

"You will now divide into pairs. One partner will try to jinx the other without speaking. The other will try to defend themselves in equal silence."

The class divided into twos, Harry joining Hermione, knowing if he stayed with Ron, neither of them would get anywhere while Hermione would be one of the first to manage silent casting, challenging him to match her. The practical started as one would expect, students whispering the incantations instead of keeping their mouth shut.

Harry, being the gentleman he is, waved Hermione to go first, feeling Snape's eyes on the back of his head. He used the time Hermione's unsuccessful tries gave him on opening his mind, moving his body in small yet elegant motions. It didn't take him long to sense the surrounding magic; the spells rushing between the students and the old charms littering the walls of the classroom.

After ten minutes of trying, Hermione managed to cast a jelly-legs jinx silently, the first one in the room to do so, and Harry swiped his wand upwards, willing a shield to form. He was half-successful as the spell changed course instead of stopping. Still, not bad for a first try.

His brown-eyed partner must have felt the same as she beamed a proud smile at him, making his insides turn to mush. Harry shook his head to focus his thoughts and responded with a similar smile. "Not a bad start, I'd say. Let's see if I can cast it."

He focused on his task, not moving for a minute until he gave an overhand wave with his wand, tingles shooting out of his hand, through his wand, into the air. Bolts and bolts of electricity, not enough to cause damage but enough to give anyone a jolt, shot down from the air to Hermione.

Harry's sudden move and the non-coloured spell caught her off-guard, the bolts hitting her in the head and chest, causing electricity to travel through her sweater and her hair to stand up. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the reddening of Hermione's face as she tried and failed to turn her back to the normal level of bushiness.

"Stop laughing!" she hissed, not loud enough to attract attention, yet it was unnecessary as the whole class was watching them after the light show Harry's jinx created. "Ugh! How am I ever going to fix my hair now?"

"If it's any consolation, I see little difference, Miss Granger," Snape drawled as he walked towards them.

"It really isn't," Hermione grumbled under her breath, still heard by Snape.

"Why don't we see if it was a stroke of luck or if you cheated, Mr. Potter? Defend yourself." As soon as the last word was out of his mouth, a spell left Snape's wand, hurrying right at Harry.

The green-eyed wizard didn't have the time to think, his wand moving up reflexively and a transparent shield forming in front of him, stopping the spell successfully this time. He hesitated all of one second before giving a wave with his wand, casting the same jinx at his professor this time. I wonder how his hair would look as opposed to Hermione's, was his only thought.

Sadly for his fantasies, the surprise attack didn't faze the professor enough and he sent the jinx back at Harry with a smirk and without a reflective shield.

I didn't know such a thing was possible. Harry cast another shield, reflective this time, and sent the jinx back. They traded the same jinx back and forth before the spell fizzled out and the professor cast a disarming charm.

Harry had, throughout the exchange of tempest jinx between Snape and him, watched the man's hand motions and tried to sense how the man's magic acted for him to send it back with no shield. It was a manipulation of magic, not a spell he himself cast. Snape had changed the momentum of Harry's jinx, turning it backwards.

The boy did not understand how the oily-haired man had done this but he wanted, needed, to learn how to do it himself. So, instead of casting a shield, reflective or otherwise, he focused on the spell's signature and willed it back. It worked, Harry yelled in his mind, celebrating far too early as the same spell hit him in the chest a moment later. He landed on his arse, watching as his Holly wand flew to the smirking defence teacher.

Snape twirled the boy's wand in his hand and tilted his head, his expression changing into one of surprise. "It seems you aren't completely useless, Mr. Potter. This is the second time you surprised me." His smirk returned and Harry was sure that was all the 'compliment' he would receive from the man. "One point to Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape before he realised that actually happened. "Thank you for your generosity, sir," he shot, high on the joy of his success.

Snape nodded, letting his cheek go unpunished for this once before he threw Harry's wand back at him and turned to the rest of the class. "I thought I told you to practice."

"Snape gave you a point!" Ron exclaimed once they left the classroom. "That has to be the first point Snape ever awarded a Gryffindor."

"Not a bad start for the term, eh?" Harry joked, oddly pleased with himself for making Snape do what he thought was impossible.

Certainly not a bad start to the semester.

| O |

Two hours and a break for Harry and Ron while an arithmancy lesson for Hermione later the trio descended to the dungeons. They reached the familiar corridor to find it occupied by nine other students other than the three. Only twelve. I guess aurors and healers are unnecessary if only this many people could potentially apply.

Not a moment after three friends made it near the door, it opened and a belly peaked out of the room, its owner hid behind the door frame. Harry snorted at the image Slughorn created as he filed into the class with the rest. He gave a respectful nod in response to the professor's enthusiastic greeting and sat between Ron and Hermione, his senses tingling.

A long moment passed until he realised why: the dungeon had transformed under Slughorn's command, the years of slime cleaned off, colourful vapours rising from cauldrons.

His inspection was cut by Ernie McMillan who sat next to Hermione, earning glares from the other two boys, though neither disliked him. The blonde boy looked unsure for a moment before shrugging off the glares. "Hey, Harry. Hermione, Ron. Didn't have time to talk to you in Defence this morning. Good lesson, even with Snape. But shield charms are old hat for us, the Association members."

Before either of the three could respond, Slughorn walked to the centre of the classroom to begin the class. "Now, then. Scales out, everyone, and potion kits. Don't forget your books..."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I have nothing. Neither does Ron. We didn't realise we'd be able to take the NEWT-level because of Snape's requirements, you see."

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall mentioned something like that. Not to worry, dear boy. You both can use ingredients from the store today, and I'm sure you can find a readable copy of the book from the pile here," he said. He walked to a corner cupboard and emerged with two scales and two books, both battered beyond belief.

"Now then," Slughorn began as he returned to the front of the class, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at. Just to see if you'll recognise any of them. These are the sort of potions you will be able to brew after competing your NEWT-levels. You should have heard of them if not made them yet. Who can tell me what this one is?"

No one was surprised to see Hermione's hand already in air and Slughorn cheerfully pointed at the enthusiastic girl. "It's veritaserum, sir. A colourless, odourless and tasteless potion that compels the drinker to tell the truth. Restricted per Ministry regulations."

"Great answer, Miss Granger. Take five points for a detailed answer," the professor gushed. "Now, this one is pretty well-known. Featured in many a ministry leaflets lately. One among you has even brewed it in the past. Go ahead, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed but answered nonetheless, "It's polyjuice potion, sir. Allows for the drinker to take the form of anyone as long as they have a hair sample or a similar body part of the target."

"Excellent, excellent. Now, this one here... oh, yes, go ahead, my dear," Slughorn said, an amused smile on his lips.

"Amortentia. The most powerful love potion."

"Quite right. Take another ten points, dear," he praised with a proud smile. "Amortentia doesn't really create love. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, it will cause a powerful infatuation, an obsession, if you will. It is probably the most powerful potion in this room. The smell coming from it changes according to a person's preferences. For example, I smell lilies, sweet wine and," he gave a sniff, "yes, a well-done steak. How about you, missy?""

Hermione visibly hesitated before answering, "I can smell freshly mown grass, new parchment and-" She didn't finish, blushing furiously she shook her head.

Curious, Harry leaned in to sniff the potion, a mixture of most delicious smells attacking his nose; treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick and Hermione.

Okay, that was oddly specific. Nothing I didn't know, though, so no need to stay frozen like this

Harry shook his head and focused on his teacher in time to hear tim say, "And now, it is time for us to start work."

He waited for a breath to add drama. "But before we do, who can tell me what this is? Anyone?" Not even Hermione's hand rose this time, though Slughorn didn't look surprised at all. "It's called Felix Felicis, or liquid luck. It makes the drinker lucky, so to say. Drink a tablespoon and you'll have the most amazing and lucky twelve hours of your life."

"You sound like you are speaking from experience, sir," Harry commented, curious how that was possible. Magic, in his experience, affected people and objects, not reality; and what Slughorn was saying sounded like a reality-altering potion.

Slughorn gave a booming laugh, his already strained shirt almost popping. "Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two perfect days," he finished dreamily, staring into the distance in remembrance. "And this little bottle," he said, shaking the said bottle, "will be the prize for the most well-brewed potion today."

"Turn page ten of your books. Go on. You have a little over an hour which should be enough to brew a decent draught of the living death. I know it is more complex than any other potions you brewed until today - except for polyjuice you brewed, Miss Granger - so I don't expect perfect results. Whoever comes closest will win a perfect day."

Harry, like everyone else, attacked the task at hand with fervour, wanting to win the best prize a teacher could set. He opened his book to find handwritings of the previous owner, a boy by the small scribblings. Even the instructions of the potion he was about the brew had handwritings all over them, changes to the potion.

Harry hesitated, unsure whether he should trust the previous owner or do the sensible thing and follow the book's instructions. I guess that settles it. Do the foolish thing. He grinned to himself and did so.

"And time's... up!" Slughorn called and Harry glanced up from his potion in surprise, unable to comprehend how so much time could have passed so fast, in a potions lesson no less.

I guess not having Snape as a teacher makes potions fun.

"Stop stirring, please." Slughorn moved among the tables, peering into cauldrons with no comments, positive or negative. When he reached Harry and his friends' table, he gave a rueful smile at Ron's tar-like result and passed with only a glance over Ernie's. After an approving nod at Hermione for her success, he froze, his eyes on Harry's pale potion. An incredulous delight spread over his face and he beamed at Harry. "The clear winner! Excellent, Harry. Good lord, you must share Lily's talent at potions. A perfect brew on your first try. Incredible! Here you are then," he said, taking the bottle of the prize out of his robe's pocket. "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised. Use it well, dear boy!"

Harry slipped the bottle with golden liquid into his pocket and grinned at the man, ignoring the dumbfounded looks on his friends' faces.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked as they left the dungeon, disbelief clear in his tone.

"Followed instructions. Duh!" Harry announced grandly, grinning like a loon at the way his luck brought him more luck. His good mood didn't last when Hermione scoffed at his response. "I suppose you think I cheated?"

The girl sighed and turned to him as they reached the Gryffindor table. "It wasn't exactly your own work, was it?"

Ron looked confused, still not knowing Harry followed other instructions, while Harry narrowed his eyes at the brown-eyed girl. "I followed the suggestions of someone who's evidently an expert on the subject, seeing as his instructions got better results. How is it that's cheating?"

"Hang on," said a familiar voice from Harry's left. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?" Ginny asked, her tone alarmed and angry.

"Yep," Harry answered with a false cheer. "It's got a scribbled notes on the margin and on top of the original instructions."

"And you are doing what it says?"

Hermione leaned into Harry, her smell intoxicating Harry for a moment, a victorious expression on her face. "Ginny's got a point, Harry."

"Not really. It's not like the book tells me anything. It's just an old textbook, on which a fellow student wrote notes for himself. No one slipped it into my bag. The student didn't know I or anyone else would have it." He sighed when he realised neither girl seemed convinced. "It is no different from following the original instructions."

"It's different," Hermione scoffed. "The book, Advanced Potion-Making, is a ministry-approved book, accepted by the experts of the field."

"Need I remind you last year, Hermione? Umbridge and Slinkhard ring any bells? Besides, you are talking as if there are no advances to be made in potions. No new discoveries and better methods." He shook his head, disappointed at the reactions of his friends, though understanding their worries. "I took a risk by following the suggestions of the previous owner, and it paid off. I will investigate the source but I don't plan on giving up an advantage."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Just... Please, be careful. There is no telling what whoever wrote on it could be like. It may have been just a fluke."

Harry grinned and winked at the girl. "I will, I promise. Though, I won't promise not to outshine you in potions with my new book," he said cheekily, hugging the said book to his chest. "You'll just have to get used to coming behind me in another subject."

The girl laughed at his tactless action. "We both know your success depends on your precious little book. Take away your book and what are you?"

"Handsome," Harry responded, cocking his head to a side and giving a half a grin.

"Well, there is that," Hermione agreed, then froze and blushed when she realised what she said.

Yeah, there is that, I guess, Harry thought cheerfully, giving the brightest smile he could manage.

A great start to the semester.