Harry awoke, feeling very unfamiliar. His limbs felt unnaturally stiff and heavy, as though he wore thick, lead bracelets around his wrists and ankles. Even lifting his head was a strain for his neck. “What happened to me,” Harry mumbled, his mouth dry. Fading light fell on him through the windows as dusk approached.
He stood up unsteadily and looked down, thinking the room had shrunk. On the bed were tatters and tears of fabric from a child’s clothes and Harry realized he was cold. Suddenly he ran to the room’s adjoining bathroom and surveyed himself in the full-length mirror.
He was in a teenage body again … finally. He blushed as he realized he was naked. All he wore were the tattered remains of a painfully stretched, red, elastic waistband from cartoon printed underwear, the remnants of small, white socks, from his bony ankles up and the fraying cuffs of a blue shirt were stretched tightly around his wrists. But he was happy he was back to normal … but it was too late. He had missed the train back to Hogwarts castle.
He sulkily walked back into the room, finding, to his surprise, his school trunk and all of his belongings, minus the children’s toys and clothes. “That wasn’t here a moment age,” he mumbled aloud, grabbing a slip of parchment on top of his trunk. Harry recognized the writing on it as Dumbledore’s and nearly tossed it aside, angry.
Harry,
You are late for your return to school and have missed the train. Mrs. Weasley has also already returned home. Please dress in the school robes laid out for you and use the portkey in the pocket. It will take you to the compartment on the Hogwarts Express that your friends occupy. Be sure to have a firm grip on your trunk when you use the portkey. I hope you enjoy the coming school year.
Professor Dumbledore
P.S. If you would prefer to not return to school this year, you may go to the Weasley’s home. All Mrs. Weasley asks is that you dress before using Floo Powder. Again, do not forget your trunk. You would also need to retake your O.W.L. exams this spring in order to show that you are still at your current level and ready to begin your N.E.W.T. classes.
To his surprise, Harry actually had to think about the option presented to him. Granted it took him less than thirty seconds to decide. He set Dumbledore’s letter aside and opened his trunk. It was neatly organized, but packed full. A set of robes lay on top, as did an outfit of muggle clothing.
Harry tentatively reached for his clothes, shifted them aside, along with some books and found his cauldron. There, where he usually packed them, were his socks and underwear. He grabbed a pair of each from the cauldron and carried them to the bed. He sat down and grabbed at the remnants of children’s socks around his calves and pulled them off, stretching them over his bony heals. He then grabbed the remains of the blue shirt sleeves and with some effort, managed to pull them over his hands. Lastly, and most difficult was the red waistband. Harry pulled and stretched it, tearing the fabric until the elastic bands snapped in half.
Harry threw all of these onto the pile of shredded clothing. But before he put his socks and underwear on, he examined the red line wrapped around his waist. It was narrow but bright and tender to the touch; it would take some time to heal.
Harry winced when he finally pulled his own underwear on. He had inadvertently scratched the red ring as his hand passed over his bony hips. He finally walked back to his trunk, reached his hands inside and grabbed … his school robes. He quickly dressed, put Sirius’ photo albums in his trunk and snapped it closed, after making sure everything he needed had indeed been packed. He smiled when he saw Mrs. Weasley had packed the board game, Clue that Hermione had given him for his birthday.
He gripped one end of his trunk tightly in his right hand and fished through his pockets with the other. The moment his hand touched the portkey, even before he knew what it was, Harry was flying through he air, images whipping past and wind roaring in his ears.
Harry’s feet slammed into a swaying floor and he nearly lost his balance as he realized he was moving. The portkey had deposited him on the lamp lit Hogwarts Express. Before he could even look around, he heard Hermione and Ginny shriek his name. He quickly found himself pushed down to the floor, multiple arms wrapping around him in tight hugs as the weight of three people pressed him into the trains rocking floor.
Even as he felt them getting off of him and he was about to get up, Harry’s friends lifted him and seated him in a seat. Harry finally saw the smiling faces of Ginny, Hermione and Ron looking at him from their seats across the compartment.
The short time that was left on the train was just spent talking. Harry learned that his friends had thus far managed to avoid inquiries about where he was. “It’s a good thing you finally turned up,” Ron said. “We were running out of excuses.”
“Thanks to Ron, everyone’s going to think you have a bladder infection or something,” Hermione added. “He’s been telling everyone who asked, for the past three hours that you were in the bathroom.”
Ron’s ears turned slightly red and he looked apologetically at his friend before turning against the girls. “Well, it’s not like either of you had any bright ideas.”
“Actually, we did,” Ginny stated. “You were just too quick each time!” At that moment the train began to slow and the conversation halted. Harry, like Ron had been blushing slightly, looking at his feet. He looked up as the train jerked to a halt and met eyes with Ron. The two burst into grins and infectious laughter spread to the girls, for no apparent reason.
After the now familiar carriage ride, they were soon seated in the great hall. As usual all heads were looking to the staff table for the new teacher, who was absent. All talk was full of rumors as to who it would be.
The sorting ceremony began and the small, frightened first years were led in by Professor McGonagall, as usual. One boy, less frightened than the rest, nudged the boy beside him and pointed directly to Harry. Both boys starred fixatedly at Harry, slowing those behind them, who turned to see who or what they were gawking at.
After the feast, as everyone, especially the newly sorted students, blinked drowsily, Dumbledore rose to speak. He gave the standard warnings and reiterated the new curfews, so there would be no doubt everyone had heard them. Harry, along with most of the older students did not much like the idea of being confined to their common rooms an hour earlier than had been expected.
Dumbledore informed them when Quidditch tryouts would be and mentioned that students could find the list of restricted items on Mr. Filch’s office door or now on their own common room notice boards. Finally they were dismissed and students began to stumble from the hall.
“He didn’t say who our new professor was, did he,” Ron asked as he, Harry and Hermione stood up. Harry shook his head, craning his neck over other students, looking towards the staff table. Once he was sure Hagrid saw him, Harry waved and Hagrid waved back. Only then did Harry follow his friends wearily up the winding staircases.
The portrait hole was still open but Hermione informed Harry of the new password, phoenix. Harry climbed to the familiar dormitory and almost collapsed on his bed before putting pajamas on. The moment his head hit the pillow, Harry’s eyes snapped shut and he had the most restful and peaceful night’s sleep he could remember. He did not even close the bed hangings and laid sprawled above the blankets.
The first sounds Harry heard in the morning, even before opening his eyes were those of his fellow Gryffindor sixth year boys chuckling. He was aware of nothing else, not even whether he was actually awake.
“Harry. Harry!” That was Ron’s voice and it sounded like he was fighting the urge to laugh.
“Wait, Ron. Don’t wake him. Let me see if Colin still has his camera.” That was Seamus. What was he laughing about so loudly? Why would they not just let him sleep? “I can’t believe Harry Potter sucks his thumb when he sleeps!”
Harry’s eyelids snapped open so quickly that he was momentarily blinded by the bright, morning light. But his hands were already pushing him up from the bed. His right thumb feeling strangely cool as he sat up. Harry snatched his glasses and quickly looked around the room. Ron was standing near him, straight faced, though the corners of his mouth twitched. Neville and Dean had hidden themselves behind their bed curtains, but were now silent. Seamus was sitting on the floor, clutching his sides.
“I can’t believe you suck your thumb,” Seamus repeated, trying to catch his breath.
Harry stomped toward him, his fists tightly clenched, but Ron grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Wow. Are you cranky in the morning,” Seamus said, still smiling. He quickly became more serious as Harry glared and Ron had to hold him back from lunging. “I won’t tell anyone. Really, I won’t. I was only kidding.”
Harry began to dress angrily and Seamus hurried to get out of the dormitory before he finished. “The day’s starting out perfectly,” Harry mumbled sarcastically as he and Ron descending into the common room and met Hermione and Ginny. Harry noticed Ginny‘s silver, prefect badge glinting on her uniform, just as Ron‘s and Hermione‘s.
During breakfast they were handed their new course schedules. This gave Harry a reason to smile. He, Ron and Hermione had Defense Against the Dark Arts first this morning, and it was a double lesson. The remainder of the schedule was not so cheerful. He and Hermione would have to endure double Potions first thing every Tuesday and Wednesday this year. Also to Harry’s dismay, he did not have Care of Magical creatures until Thursday Afternoon. These were the only classes Harry really cared about at that moment.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the few classes that most of Harry’s year were still continuing. As such, Harry found a large group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws in the classroom when he arrived. Still no sign of a teacher, Harry noticed something on the desk in a small tank.
It was a tiny creature, swimming in the half-full tank at great speed. It looked like a beautiful, orange and blue butterfly, with an abnormally long proboscis. As Harry stopped to watch, the creature leapt clear of the water, fluttered around a few moments, then landed, upside-down, on the mesh screen above the tank.
“What is that,” Harry asked, astonished. He had never heard of such a creature. It flew in much the way it swam, and was surprisingly fast in air or water.
“That, Mr. Potter, is a flutterfish,” said the new professor, entering the room and making Harry jump. He was young for a professor and good-looking, and had known Harry from the back. (A/N I will not be giving a detailed description or name to this professor, out of respect to J. K. Rowling.) “Do be careful. It’s quite dangerous, as most dark creatures are.”
But Harry turned back to the creature, still in awe. With such speed that Harry could not see it, the flutter fish jabbed its proboscis through the mesh screen and spit a bright orange liquid at him.
“Evanesca!” The orange liquid disappeared moments before hitting Harry’s face. “I warned you. Now take your seat so I may begin.
“We will, of course, be using The Practical Guide to Dueling and Dark Creatures. Now, as I said, this is a flutterfish.” The creature returned to the water without causing so much as a ripple. “As your text will tell you, on page 173, this is perhaps the most dangerous creature from North America, where it is commonly found. However, it can survive in any environment and therefore, you can find them around hear from time to time. So, aside from the fact it can survive anywhere, does anyone know what makes the flutterfish so dangerous?”
As usual, Hermione’s hand was the first in the air. “You must be Miss. Granger, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I appreciate your enthusiasm and that you obviously already read the text, but let’s give somebody else a chance.” Not a single hand rose and the students starred blankly forward, still numb from a summer without schoolwork. “Come now, it is in bold print, directly under the detailed photograph.” Finally, a small number of hands raised slowly into the air. “Very well, Mr. Thomas.”
“It can move swiftly enough to not be seen by humans and its spit is a highly corrosive acid.”
“Very good. Those two things, which Mr. Potter nearly found out firsthand, make this creature extremely dangerous. To show you the potency of the acid, I have already collected some.” He held up a beaker-full of brilliant orange liquid. “I should tell you that this is no mere glass. It is magically treated for this purpose, and this is an ordinary block of solid steel.” He sat the block of steel, which was about half the size of a cinder block, above the tank and poured several drops of the acid over it. Almost too quickly to see, the steel block ended up looking like melting Swiss Cheese.
“There you are, pass that around,” he said, setting the ruined metal on Harry’s desk. “It will impress upon you just how dangerous this, ‘rather cute,’ creature is.”
Now that he had the class’ attention, the new professor went over his curriculum. They would start with the dark creatures, those that had been too dangerous for Lupin to show in third year. Then they would use their defensive theory books to learn new spells and how and when to use them. Finally they would return to the dueling and dark creature book and learn proper dueling etiquette and how to survive a duel.
As the double period drew to a close, he brought their attention back to the flutterfish. “Now, since it is clear that none of you, with the exception of Miss. Granger, could tell me how to defend yourself if this flutterfish were loose, I have an assignment.” There was a collective groan and some whispers that it was the first day. “You will read about the flutterfish, the hydra, the manticore, all varieties of dragon (I assure you, this book is more detailed than Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them) and lastly the chimera. There will be a test during our lesson this Friday.” The bell rang and the class filed out, grumbling.