A/N Hello readers. I am sorry this chapter has come several months after the last - life has gotten the way; I've moved house twice, started a new job and had uni exams. But now life is in order, normal uploading service shall resume. Enjoy!

P.S - there's at least one thing seemingly insignificant thing mentioned in this chapter that will be integral to the story much later on, can you guess what it is?

Aurora Sinistra stumbled into her quarters, exhausted and hurt. She'd had to take a major detour to avoid some of the more commonly travelled corridors; her current appearance would lead to some uncomfortable questions.

Her already pale skin was almost translucent, and a pattern of glowing, star-shaped marks covered her entire body. Starburn – the bane of astronomancers – occurred when a magical persons magic connected too strongly with the magic of the stars. The shining star pattern would disappear within a week, but she'd have to keep a low profile until then. Astronomancy wasn't technically illegal, but it was frowned upon, especially in a place of learning.

Aurora snorted to herself. Wizards were such fools. They hated what they did not understand. Astronomancers weren't any more powerful or dangerous than other magicals. They merely had access to another type of magic. Most magical folk drew their magical power from the Earth; almost all charms, hexes and spells drew on the latent magic of the planet. Aurora did the same thing for most of her magic. But she had learnt to harness the external powers of the stars and moon. It gave her ethereal rituals; powers unknown to most servants of earth.

She shook her head, clearing away the irrelevant thoughts. She had more pressing medical issues to deal with. She had a long, deep gash running down the length of each arm – from shoulder to wrist. Each severed at least one major artery, and would have killed her by now if she hadn't placed the wounds under a slow-time charm. Aurora winced as she liberally applied essence of dittany to the wounds. She then began to mutter healing charms, moving her wand up and down her arms. The cuts healed within a minute, the flesh stitching itself back together, leaving an ugly, straight scar down both her arms. The wounds, being caused by a certain type of magic, would leave permanent scars.

The astronomy professor grimaced, as she prepared to remove the numbing charms she had placed on her head. As she did so, pain shot through her body, blood began rushing down her neck, covering her already filthy blouse. Gritting her teeth, she began to heal the horrific injury to her face, working until the blood stopped flowing. With an intricate piece of spellwork, she replaced the eye she had removed from herself the night before, thankful she had been able to use a knife for that stage.

The pain abruptly vanished. Aurora grinned, and rolled her new eye around, testing it out. It was a successful replacement. It had been a good trip to the forest last night.

As the Astronomy professor was replacing her eye, Harry, Fay and Angelina were leaving the Leaky Cauldron, and entering Diagon Alley. They wandered aimlessly for a while, absorbing the vibrant sights of the twisted street. Before long, however, Harry became suspicious that he was being lead to a certain, dreaded place.

He was proved correct when the multi-coloured façade of the Quidditch store hove into view. Harry tried to direct the group somewhere else, but the girls – being bigger than him – easily manoeuvred him in the right direction. Harry groaned. He should have known that Fay would also drag them to the Quidditch store, he began to plan an escape route.

Predictably, it wasn't long until Fay and Angelina became distracted enough for him to be ignored. They'd managed to get into a debate over which team would finish top of the league. Angelina staunchly supporting the Harpies, while Fay was explaining the virtues of a team called the "Montrose Magpies", who had apparently won the league more than any other team. Or at least, that's what Harry thought he heard until he felt his brain tune out completely.

Harry started weaving his way out of the shop, knowing he'd have plenty of time to explore before the girls realised he was gone. He nodded a quick hello to Seamus and Dean – two of his dorm-mates who were looking over the latest broom from the Nimbus line. He said a quick hello to a rather lost looking Neville Longbottom - a Hufflepuff boy in Harry's year who looked like he'd wandered into the store accidentally – before managing to exit the overly crowded store.

He ducked back into the Magical Curios store he'd visited earlier that day; he hadn't had time to properly explore the small and cluttered shop before. It was absolutely full of unusual and second-hand magical items, placed in the store with no sense of order. The shop was empty of customers, save for a dirty-looking man in a long brown overcoat, who appeared to be trying to sell number of watches, necklaces, lockets and pendants to the annoyed-looking shopkeeper. Harry grimaced – the man stank of tobacco, and of cheap alcohol (somewhat reminding Harry of his Uncle Vernon). Harry could smell the man from the other side of the shop.

His sense of good-manners kicked in, and he stopped staring at the failing transaction, and dived into the used-book bin. He knew that the supply of books he'd bought at Flourish and Blotts earlier that day wouldn't last him long, and the second-hand books in this store were ridiculously cheap. He figured that Hersop – the shopkeeper – either didn't know or didn't care much about second hand books; all of the books were priced at 2 Sickles. It wasn't without good reason – many of them were clearly old Hogwarts textbooks, with several copies of all of Harry's first year texts littered throughout the bins.

There were a few good finds amid the pile of junk, however. He found quite a few books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes – both electives that Harry could take in his second year. Harry snorted. No harm in reading ahead, he thought. He also found a rather interesting-looking book entitled "Enchanting: How to Make That Pineapple Tap-dance Forever". Harry happily added it to his already large pile of book, and started sifting through the crate of cheap books again. His search was interrupted by the rising voices of the shopkeeper and his apparently unwelcome seller.

"Here, this stuff is 'uality!" insisted the dirty and smelly man, holding up an armful of watches and necklaces.

"I don't care, Fletcher. I don't deal in stolen goods," explained the shopkeeper, a man named Hersop. He was a rather old man - if he were a Muggle, Harry thought he'd be in his mid-seventies. But the old man was powerfully built , with sharp eyes like a hawk. Harry was briefly reminded of Professor McGonagall's glare she usually reserved for particularly bad trouble-makers (namely, the Weasley twins). The man wasn't someone Harry would like to mess with.

"They're not bleedin' stolen!" exclaimed the man with the jewellery. "All from legitimate sources!" Harry had to hold back a snort of derision at that remark.

"I suggest you try the pawn shop in Knockturn Alley, Fletcher. I won't have you in my shop anymore". The shopkeeper seemed to grow and swell in power as he spoke, and both Harry and the seller took a step back.

The man, apparently called "Fletcher" uttered some choice swearwords before fleeing out the door. Harry grinned. The man had uttered words he hadn't heard from anyone, even from his 'Aunt' Marge after a half-dozen glasses of brandy.

The shopkeeper sighed, and surveyed his shop quietly, before laying eyes on Harry for apparently the first time. "Oh!" he exclaimed, the stern demeanour dropping right away to be replaced with a happy smile. "Sorry about that. That was Mundungus Fletcher. A bit of a crook, and tries to sell me questionable goods at least once a month. Never take them – can't do with that stuff in my shop!"

Harry shook his head, responding with "not a problem." The shopkeeper smiled wildly at him. "Sorry, sir, but why does he keep trying if you don't buy from him?"

The shopkeeper laughed heartily. "Firstly son, none of this 'sir' business. You shall call me Hersop." The man – Hersop – commanded, and Harry nodded. "And it's merely because my prices are far better than the ones he'd find in Knockturn Alley. You should stay away from that place for now, son. Plenty of nice people there, but plenty of shifty types as well!"

"Sure thing, sir…Hersop" responded Harry, correcting himself as he spoke.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hersop, happily. "You were here earlier, weren't you!"

Harry nodded at the excited man, who contrasted with the stern shopkeeper he'd been just five minutes previously. "Always like a loyal customer!" continued Hersop. "What can I help you with?"

Harry lugged his rather large pile to the counter. "Just these, please," he explained.

"Hmm… like your books, do you son?" Hersop asked, examining the titles. Without waiting for a response, he continued talking. "Got something I think you'll like." Hersop disappeared into the cluttered mess of his shop to find something, as Harry looked on bemusedly.

After a little while, Hersop let out a whoop, and held up a small box, about the size of a match-box. Harry raised his eyebrows as he placed the tiny box on the ground, saying "Stand back, my boy. You'll like this!" He tapped the box with his wand, before leaping back. The matchbox began to grow. And grow and grow and grow until it was almost two metres high and wide. Harry felt his jaw drop as he realised it was a bookshelf.

Hersop chuckled at his amazed expression. "I thought you'd like it. It's a Collapsible Bookshelf. Can hold hundreds of books, and fits into your pocket. Yours for seven Galleons."

"So cheap?" Harry asked, somewhat thrown by the cheap price – it was cheaper than some of the books he had bought from Flourish and Blotts.

"Aye, nobody wants these anymore. Not since they developed trunks with multiple compartments," explained the shopkeeper, somewhat sadly. "No point having one of these if you have a whole library in your luggage."

Harry nodded. It would suit him perfectly – he already had too many books to fit into his trunk, and had bought a lot more today. He also liked the idea of having all his books with him all the time. "I'll take that as well, please," he answered happily.

Hersop nodded, and levitated the books Harry was purchasing onto one of the shelves of the bookcase, and shrunk it with a tap of his wand. "Let's call it fair at nine Galleons for the lot," suggested Hersop.

Harry nodded, and went to pay, before spotting a silver-coloured pocket watch hanging on the counter. "How much is this?" he asked, holding it up.

"Ah, a Poison-Detecting-Watch? Twelve Galleons." Noticing Harrys' confused look, he explained. "It'll start vibrating if it's near a poison".

Harry nodded; he'd only asked because he thought it looked cool, anything else was a bonus. He happily paid for everything, before thanking the shopkeeper and heading back to the Quidditch store.

He was confronted by a sight he had yet to see in almost four months of friendship: a blushing Fay. Angelina was giggling on her side.

"Oh, there you are, Harry!" cried Angelina, still giggling.

"What's with her?" he asked, gesturing at Fay, who was still beet-red and shaking her head. She didn't seem to have the ability to speak.

"She's just been talking to Neville Longbottom", answered Angelina, as if that explained everything.

"One of the Hufflepuff kids in our year?" asked Harry, confused.

Fay started shaking her head harder, which only made Angelina giggle more. "She thinks he's dreamy".

"Oh….OH!" stuttered Harry, catching on. "What, our Fay embarrassed by talking to a boy? Our Fay?" Fay had always been his most out-going friend - except for the Weasley twins, perhaps. Su, Angelina and Millie were far more reserved.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" exclaimed Fay, finally finding her voice. That was too much for Harry; he found himself following Angelina into a fit of giggles.

"It's kind of cute," said Harry. "That you're finally showing a human side, I mean."

"Shut it!" exclaimed Fay again, but there was no malice to her words. "And not a word to Fred and George!"

"Not at all," replied Angelina, reassuringly. "Well, maybe one or two."

"A few sentences, perhaps," continued Harry with a smirk.

"A paragraph in my next letter to them!" finished Angelina with a matching smirk. "But no more than that!"

"Oh god…" muttered Fay, good-naturedly – her blush had faded, and she no longer resembled a tomato.

Minerva McGonagall slid on her reading glasses, and surveyed the incomprehensible paperwork on her desk. They were mostly financial statements for the school, record of funds going in and out. Of all her duties as a headmistress, this was her least favourite. She was an incredibly intelligent woman; she had achieved her Transfiguration Mastery at 20, the second-youngest in recorded history (the youngest being Albus Dumbledore himself). She also had a dual degree in Particle Physics and Chemistry from a Muggle university, having realised that understanding the smallest forms of matter and how they interact was integral for understanding the mechanisms of Transfiguration. Despite this however, she was absolutely pants when it came to money.

She could scarcely manage her own money properly; let alone the huge account of Hogwarts school.
The various cash figures formed an incomprehensible mess on the page in front of her. She decided there and then to hire a banker to manage the school accounts. She gave an exasperated sigh and tossed the papers back on her desk.

Looking up, she saw the scarred face of Professor Tenebris smirking at her. For the taciturn defence professor and deputy headmistress, that was practically a big belly-laugh.

"Shut up!" she exclaimed at the old warrior. Her friend of twenty-something years just continued to smirk. Minerva rolled her eyes and looked at the clock.

They were waiting for the rest of the staff to arrive for the last official meeting of the year. The rest of the staff was slightly late. Telwyn Tenebris was never late for anything, or early for that matter. She arrived at precisely the correct time with military precision.

Thankfully for Minerva, she was saved from pretending to do paperwork by the arrival of Professors Flitwick and Sprout, deep in concentration. Filius flashed her a wide smile as they diminutive professor took a seat next to the Herbologist, continuing their discussion. Afterwards, came Professors Vector, Babbling and Burbage, as well as Professor Proulx – the professor of enchanting. They were followed by the glowing green, hunchbacked form of Professor Byrd. He was as grumpy as usual; probably annoyed that he had been pulled away from his potions. He grunted a hello and sat uncomfortably in a chair. Minerva knew that he'd probably not contribute anything to the discussion – she knew he had largely taken the role as potions professor for access to Hogwarts' famous brewing facilities, rather than for teaching. Fortunately, he saw teaching as a necessary part of his profession, and was a good and effective teacher in the classroom, if fairly callous. He just didn't care about how the school was run outside of the classroom and his potions lab.

He was followed by Professor Aptet in extreme contrast. The Transfiguration professor exemplified all the best qualities of a great teacher; she kindly when she needed to be kind, and strict when she needed to be strict, and she was approachable, helpful and full of knowledge. Her teaching method was probably the most inclusive of all, excluding perhaps Professor Kettleburn. Kettleburn obviously wouldn't be attending; he was currently on an Unplottable island, hunting for man-eating Quintapeds. It was why she had Hagrid trained as Care of Magical Creatures assistant; so he could cover the class for a time if Professor Kettleburn didn't return from one of the crazy adventures he took each holiday.

Professor Sinistra wouldn't be attending – she was always unavailable over Christmas. Sybil would be up in her tower, probably unaware what time it was and Binns never attended meetings. Finally, almost 20 minutes late, Hagrid arrived, clutching a handful of silvery hairs. Minerva quickly transfigured him a robust and oversized chair, and he took a seat, panting from exertion.

The headmistress called the meeting to order. "Thank-you all for coming. Before we get on to regular business, I believe Hagrid has important issues to discuss". She gave Hagrid a quick nod and smiled.

Hagrid beamed excitedly and proudly. "Thank-you Professor McGonagall, ma'am!" He held up the silvery hair he'd carried in.

Professor Byrd gasped excitedly. "Are they unicorn hairs, Hagrid?"

Hagrid scowled at the greedy professor before continuing at Minerva's prompting. "Somethin' has been killin' the unicorns in the Forest. Or someone. I've foun' three dead this week". Most of the teachers let out some kind of exclamation of shock. Flitwick nearly fell off his chair, and Byrd looked even more excited. Tenebris had the most controlled reaction, merely raising her eyebrows.

"All three of 'em of had their necks bitten open. Blood was drained out," Hagrid continued solemnly.

"Someone drank their blood?" asked Flitwick, going pale.

"Who would do such a thing?" queried Sprout, horrified. Unicorns were almost sacred in the magical world; they were effectively creatures of Good and Light, some of the most pure creatures on earth. Everyone knew that unicorn blood would keep someone alive, even if they were at the brink of death. But defiling something so pure damaged their very soul, pushed the drinker into a state of extreme depression – similar to being constantly near a Dementor. Most could not live with themselves in a state of constant and extreme depression, but were effectively immortal for over a year. It was their curse.

"Who's powerful enough to even catch and kill a unicorn?" asked Tenebris, pragmatically. The look she shared with Minerva and Filius told them she had a good idea who. Minerva nodded. Tom Riddle. Mr Potter's dream at the start of the semester was starting to make more sense.

"We need to take action to stop this," spoke Professor Vector for the first time. "Someone evil or desperate enough to drink unicorn blood is not someone we want near a school". The other staff members made noises of agreement.

"Shouldn't we wait for Kettleburn to return?" asked Professor Sprout, worriedly. "He knows more about magical creatures than us".

"Hagrid knows the forest better than anyone," replied Minerva, causing the half-giant to beam with pride. "He'll be in charge, and he'll lead us". The over-enthusiastic groundskeeper was delighted.

"It'll be dangerous," continued McGonagall, mentally excluding some of the Professors. Sprout, Byrd, Babbling and Burbage weren't appropriate for such endeavours, their skills lay in other areas. "Telwyn, Filius, Septima,and I will go into the forest with Hagrid tonight," instructed McGonagall sharply. She had already decided what to do before the meeting. "I've contacted a few old acquaintances from the Auror corps to help out."

"What will you do?" asked the uncharacteristically stern-looking Professor Burbage.

"See what we can find. Hopefully, we can find the people doing this – or perhaps our presence there will be enough to scare them off".

"They'll be desperate. If we find them, they'll put up a fight," commented Tenebris, speaking slowly.

"Hagrid…the dead unicorns…" began the potions master, tentatively but hopefully. "There must be a lot of valuable ingredients, if I could…"

"They're buried already!" interrupted Hagrid, sharply. "I won't be the one showin' yeh where they are". The half-giant was almost growling at the potions professor.

"That's enough," cut in the Headmistress. "If you want ingredients, the school can afford them. Hagrid, why don't you go and prepare for tonight?" finished McGonagall, effectively defusing the situation. Hagrid thanked her, and left with a final glare at the hunchbacked man.

"Right! Back to everyday business," said Minerva, moving the meeting along. "Does anyone have any issues to discuss?"

Minerva barely paid attention during the rest of the meeting. Dark times were coming back to the world; they were merely dealing with the first whispers of shadows. Somehow she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep Harry Potter safe forever.

The boy in question was currently having one of the better days of his young life, with two of his friends and very few things to worry about. The trio had gone clothes shopping for Harry after the Quidditch store – something that both girls had been promising to do since they'd seen the state of his Dursley cast-offs, and something he'd been vaguely dreading.

The two hours it took to give him an entire new wardrobe reminded him of a outfit montage he'd once seen in an old film. He would repeatedly try on clothes the girls thrust at him, and return to the girls for judgement.

Harry complained and fidgeted throughout the process, but he actually rather enjoyed the entire experience. Not that he'd ever admit that to his friends. Fay would never let him live it down. Finally, a few hundred Galleons lighter, he had several bags full of new clothes. Angelina had promised to make him throw out every single one of the hand-me-downs he'd gotten from Dudley when they arrived at her house.

Harry sighed, and shrunk the bags down and shoved them into his pockets. Hopefully the Shrinking Charm would last long enough for him to unpack them at Angelina's house. Shrinking Charms had a notoriously haphazard lasting time – it's why people invested in Shrinking Trunks or Shrinking Bookshelves. They could be shrunk indefinably.

As the trio wandered away from the clothes store, he found himself thinking of Su. The little, silent Asian girl was defiantly his closest friend, and he'd been hurt that she'd taken so long to write during the holidays. It was why he hadn't opened her letter right away. Normally, he'd have torn in open immediately, no matter how busy he was. He had placed it in his top pocket and it felt as though it was burning into his chest.

He was broken from his reverie by Fay, predictably trying to guide them to some sort of garishly sweet food.

"What about the chocolate store?"

"We've already taken you there," replied Angelina with a grin. "You probably bought half the store". Harry nodded. It was only a slight exaggeration. Nothing got in the way of Fay and chocolate.

"Ice-cream, then?"

"Perhaps, what time is it?" responded Angelina, shaking her head.

Harry made a show of pulling out his new pocketwatch to check the time, much to the amusement of his companions. Harry told himself it was amusement, at least. It may well have been exasperation. "About half-four, we have half an hour."

"We've plenty of time, then!" exclaimed Fay, happily, and she led them ever onwards.

It was a very different day for Millie. She'd told both Harry and herself that she'd be fine without him at the school, being the only person under fifth year at the school. She had Hagrid, and she had plenty of places to explore.

She'd been to see Hagrid, but he was very anxious and busy. The big man was unhappy about something – that much was obvious to her, and probably to everyone else in the world. The groundskeeper wasn't known for his subtlety. Hagrid had refused, point blank, to tell her what had happened however.

He had told her it would only upset her.

Millie had been annoyed at that. She wasn't a fragile little girl…well, perhaps sometimes, when she was around Harry. She'd intended to do a bit of sneaking around, to try and discover what Hagrid had been hiding, but the bearded man had made her promise not to ask questions or snoop around. It was 'dangerous'.

Millie didn't like it, but the half-giant had helped her deal with her heritage in so many ways, and she couldn't violate his trust that much. Plus, if Hagrid said something was dangerous, it was probably true. He had told Millie on several occasions that dragons weren't dangerous at all, and were actually rather cuddly. She didn't want to meet anything that Hagrid called dangerous.

She jogged upstairs to write to Harry, however. She'd promised to keep him updated, but she didn't expect to have anything to say so soon.

The children had finished their ice-cream, and Angelina had led them back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet their respective parents. Fay's mother and sister had already been waiting, so Fay had planted a big kiss on his cheek and ran off to meet them. Harry was disgruntled to notice that the kiss was slightly sticky from the ice-cream, and rubbed it off with his sleeves, amid chuckles from Angelina.

"Shush!" he told her, sticking his tongue out. "Do you see your mum anywhere?" Being five in the afternoon, the pub was stacked full of people coming and going from the alleyway.

"Not yet. Should we try and get a butterbeer?"

"Sure!" responded Harry, and they melded through the crowd to the bar. Harry ordered two butterbeers, and they were stuck, slightly awkwardly, on two bar stools as all other seats were full.

Harry tried to talk to Angelina, but found he couldn't hear himself over the hubbub. He leaned in and shouted in her ear. "Where do you live?"

Angelina jumped, and nearly spilled her drink, but recovered and answered back in the same manner. "Not far from here, actually. We're local Londoners."

"How are we getting there?"

"Floo, I expect".

Harry groaned. He hated Floo powder. "I'm terrible at Floo travel!" he exclaimed. "I'll probably fall flat on my face on the other side."

Angelina grinned, teasingly. "Then I'm going first. I want to see that". Harry stuck his tongue out at her in response. "Oh, there's my mum!" She waved at her mother to attract her attention. Jolene pushed her way to the bar.

"Hey, kids. It's mad in here, isn't it?" she said, greeting them. They both nodded, and she led them towards the fireplace. "Did you buy much?"

"Loads!" responded Angelina. "We took Harry clothes shopping," she continued happily.

"Yeah, it's all shrunk in my pocket," finished Harry, smiling.

"Useful thing, magic," commented Angelina's mother. "Back when I was a girl, we weren't allowed to use magic outside of school".

"What changed that?" asked Harry, intrigued.

"The war. They wanted kids to be able to protect themselves, so they removed the restrictions. Dumbledore must have forgot to restore the restrictions after the war," explained Jolene with a grin. Harry and Angelina laughed.

The Floo journey to the Johnson house wasn't quite as bad as Harry thought; he stumbled out of the fire, of balance, and had to be caught be Angelina.

He found himself in a homely-looking lounge room. Bookshelves flanked the fireplace he'd just come out of, and the walls and carpet was a soft cream colour. One of the walls was almost completely taken up with a huge window, revealing a luscious garden with several large trees shielding from the worst of the sun. The rest of the room was filled with comfortable-looking chairs and lounges, and to his surprise, a television. The room looked inviting, interesting and thoroughly useable.

It was far better than the Dursleys' living room, which was exceptionally bland and boring. They had a lounge that nobody was allowed to sit on – although why nobody was allowed to sit on it was beyond Harry. Some of his joy must have shown on his face.

"You like it?" Angelina asked, tentatively.

"It's beautiful!"

Angelina beamed. I'll show you around. Most of the rest of the bottom floor was an open-plan kitchen and dining room setup, which extended out onto a large veranda. Also included was a bathroom, and Angelina's brothers' room.

"You don't want to go in there!" Angelina advised him, with a mock look of horror, causing Harry to laugh.

The backyard was vast, with several huge, lush trees – some of which Harry had seen from the lounge room. There was a stream leading in from one of the sides of the garden, crossing the garden and forming a small pond in the middle. Harry couldn't see any other houses around, and realised that having a house this large in London was unlikely. The Johnsons must live on the outsides of London, he decided. Either that or they expanded the property with magic.

Upstairs in the house were the rest of the bedrooms, and another bathroom. They stopped by Angelina's room first. It was as Harry expected – the walls were covered in posters – seven life-sized posters advertised each member of Angelina's favourite Quidditch team, the Harpies. There were posters showing wizarding bands, like the Weird Sisters and the Crooked Tooth, as well as Muggle bands. Harry knew nothing about Muggle music, but did recognise the iconic Rolling Stones logo, at least.

Angelina deposited him in the guest room. "Unpack, and make yourself at home," she told him, happily. "Then come to my room!" she instructed with a grin. Harry nodded, beaming. "Oh, Harry?" she said, looking back as she left the room. "Do you like the house?"

Harry nodded, somewhat speechless. "It's perfect…." He answered, with Angelina beaming in response. He wasn't lying – he couldn't image a more welcoming home.

The guest room he was staying in was comfortably furnished, if a little sparse. A large bed stood in the middle of the room, and there was a large walk-in closet on one of the walls. There was a big window on the other wall, overlooking the garden. There was a desk, with a chair, in front of the window.

Grinning, Harry pulled out his bookshelf, placed it next to the bed, and unshrunk it. He pulled out his trunk, and all his shopping, and started unshrinking it on his bed. He started levitating all his books out of his trunk, packing them into his new bookcase.

With a sudden thought, he pulled Su's letter out of his pocket and tore it open, sitting at the desk as he did so.

Harry

I am sorry I haven't written to you like I promised I would – my dad still hasn't improved. Our house-elf, Ash has been feeding him and keeping him clean, but he just stares at the wall, day in and day out. Christmas is a hard time of the year for us

I haven't forgotten you, and I'll try harder to write back over the next few weeks.What has happened since I came home? You've hinted at excitement but given nothing away.

Write back soon – I miss you

Su

Harry dropped the letter, feeling both happy and guilty. Overjoyed that his best friend was in contact again, and hating himself for getting upset with her for not responding – he knew what her father was like, and he should have worked it out.

Harry sighed. Overall, it had been a good day.