This is currently being reposted without book context, though is not yet complete. When it is, I shall ask you all to send me PM's or reviews of your email, whichever you prefer, so that I can send you copies with book context. Until then, I'm sorry for this version, but it's better than nothing.
Dumbledore was in his office, looking fondly down at Fred and George Weasley from his study as McGonagall explained that she'd felt she had no choice but to bring them up here after they'd gone and convinced one of the students to have a go at the Whomping Willow. Perhaps they should consider having that removed now-
...
Tonks was standing in line, shaking from her bright hair to her steel boots, waiting for her name to be called any moment to take a test that would define her career. Behind her was a Ravenclaw she only knew of by name from all of their shared classes but had never spoken to, in front of her was a tall boy, Slytherin, who she was trying to chat casually with without stuttering too much. The students who had been called in ahead of them refused to say what their N. E. W. T. instructors had them doing, so they hadn't even a clue of what was to come. Tonks had just locked eyes with Charlie at the back of the que, and gave him a nervous grin when-
...
Remus was asleep, or at least trying to be. He lay out on the cot, thankful he had two more nights before he had to deal with his monthly fear yet again, and yet every day it wasn't that night still felt like a waking nightmare. The kind old woman who was now offering him room and board in exchange for his helping out around her property would soon recognize the patterns of his disappearance, would grow suspicious of him like everyone else. He should leave now, save himself the trouble before she thought too deeply. Yet still he lay curled up under his blanket, his mind always elsewhere, where he never wanted it to be, then-
...
Sirius was where he always was, and probably always would be. He didn't bother closing his eyes much anymore, he saw the same thing on the inside of his lids as he did when they were open. The death of his brother, in all but blood, and who had caused it. It was all he saw anymore. Even if the dementors didn't live right outside, just out of distance but always present as a chill that would never leave him, he would always see that too pale skin and the look of shock on his face. He tried, futilely, to think of anything else, but all that accomplished was yet another man coming to mind, but this one hurt worse. Because he believed he'd done it, and if ever he saw him again, he'd kill him on sight, or at least Sirius hoped he would as he knew he deserved it. This wasn't helping either, so he finally decided he was done with his thoughts and tried to crawl to his feet to change instead as it happened.
...
Hermione was crossing the street on the way to the library. It was the first time her parents were letting her go anywhere all by herself, and as it was only a block away it was hardly the adventure she so enjoyed reading about, but still, she walked with just a touch more spring in her step for how grown up she felt. Her foot was coming up to step onto the curb until-
...
Ron was outside playing with his dad. It was finally the Saturday he'd been promising for ages that he'd teach Ron how to properly catch and throw back the Quaffle. If Ron was good enough, he'd even try to convince his mother that he could have a go on an age old broom they had around the house. They were going to have to sell it come the end of summer, so Ron was being persistent that his father let him try it out now. No need to inform him the twins had given him a ride on theirs over the summer, his dad would just think that Ron was a natural right off the bat. The red ball was in mid toss between the two, but then it wasn't.
...
Harry was in his cupboard under the stairs, watching a spider fix a web between the hinge and the corner. He was whispering to it, couldn't let the Dursleys hear him being any louder of course, telling it about his day at school and the English report he had due tomorrow. The spider didn't answer of course, and after a awhile Harry lost interest in that and was instead left to turn restlessly in his bed to face the wall. He pictured himself telling this to a nameless, faceless person instead, perhaps someone who would respond. He'd lost times of wishes he'd made he could be telling his own parents this, what they would have said back. Face hidden from everything, he strained his mind back, just wanting to remember a small piece of them, but for all his trouble he received what he always had, a flash of green light. Then he blinked his eyes sharply behind the glasses, to find he wasn't in his cupboard anymore.