Harry POV*
I dragged my feet toward the Gryffindor table, still blinking sleep from my eyes.
The hall was already buzzing, clatter of plates, owls swooping in and out, the smell of toast and sausages thick in the air.
Ron waved me over, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.
Hermione was already lecturing him, of course.
"Harry, finally," she said, scooting over so I could sit. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen back asleep."
"I would've," I muttered, grabbing a plate. "But then I remembered you'd hunt me down like a bloodhound."
Ron snorted, nearly choking. "She would, mate. Last night she threatened me with a timetable."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I didn't threaten you. I just said if you want to survive here, you'll actually need to look at the schedule instead of—"
"—instead of letting you drag us by the collar like prisoners of war?" I said, grinning.
She huffed, but I caught the twitch of a smile. "Someone has to keep you both from being hopeless."
Breakfast passed in easy chatter.
Dean and Seamus dropped by to talk about Quidditch, Fred and George swooped in to sneak toast onto Ron's plate when he wasn't looking, and Hermione kept fussing about classes.
Normal, warm, familiar something I hadn't had for a very long time.
-----------------------------------------
McGonagall swept into the room like a storm cloud, robes billowing, spectacles glinting. "Today," she said briskly, "we will begin with a simple exercise. Converting a beetle into a button. Wands ready."
I lined up my beetle on the desk. Tiny legs twitched against the wood.
"Focus on intent, clarity, precision," she continued. "Transfiguration is not brute force, it is control, just like what I taught in your previous year."
I breathed in, lifted my wand, and let the magic move. The beetle shimmered, then folded into itself like origami, flattening into a perfectly round, polished silver button.
Smooth. Easy. Natural.
Ron gaped at me. "Blimey, mate. Already?" His beetle was still crawling in circles.
Hermione pursed her lips, clearly determined not to let me get ahead.
She muttered the incantation, and her beetle half changed, its legs turned to threads while the body stayed stubbornly insect like.
"Not bad, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, passing by. Her gaze flicked to my desk.
She stopped. Her lips pressed into a thin line, unreadable. "Mr. Potter."
"Yes, Professor?"
Her eyes lingered on my flawless button. Something sharp and calculating flickered there but she said nothing, only nodded curtly and moved on.
I pretended not to notice.
-----------------------------------------
The dungeon was cold and smelled faintly of burnt herbs. Snape glided to the front, voice low and venomous.
"Today we brew a Fire Protection Potion. An advanced mixture… one that I do not expect most of you to manage. Instructions are on the board."
I was paired with Neville. His hands trembled as he set out ingredients. "I'm rubbish at this, Harry. You should've gotten Hermione."
I clapped his shoulder. "Relax, Neville. We'll do it together. Just follow my lead."
As the cauldron warmed, I found myself moving almost without thought. A pinch less salamander blood, the mixture settled smoother.
Grind the belladonna finer it flowed instead of clumping.
Every adjustment felt natural, instinctive, like the magic whispered the recipe in my ear.
Neville gasped as the potion shimmered gold, thicker and steadier than any other cauldron in the room. His grin nearly split his face. "Harry, that's… that's perfect!"
Snape drifted over like a shadow. His eyes narrowed at our cauldron, then flicked to me.
For one heartbeat, I saw it, the tiniest nod of respect, gone in an instant.
"Passable," he sneered aloud, robes snapping as he turned away.
Neville mouthed, passable? That was amazing! I just chuckled.
-----------------------------------------
At lunch, Ron collapsed dramatically. "First day back and already drowning. You two are evil geniuses."
Hermione sniffed. "Some of us actually read our textbooks, Ronald."
I grinned. "And some of us have natural talent."
"Oi," Ron muttered. "Unfair."
Charms with Flitwick was lighter, levitation and precision control. Hermione kept chanting exact incantations, Ron winged it, and I just move my wand.
My feather soared higher, steadier, while Flitwick clapped like a child.
"Well done, Mr. Potter! Excellent wandwork!"
Ron groaned. "You're showing off again."
"Jealousy's a bad look, Ron," I teased.
Hermione smirked. "He's right, though. You make it look… effortless."
I only shrugged, hiding the truth.
Dinner was loud, chaotic, warm. Fred and George swapped Ron's pumpkin juice with vinegar.
Hermione ranted about Lockhart's upcoming class, Ron ranted about homework, and I laughed until my ribs ached.
Later, in the common room, I beat Ron at chess twice, teased Hermione about running "study boot camp," and finally collapsed into bed.
Hogwarts felt alive again.
-----------------------------------------
Morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of the Great Hall as I slid onto the bench beside Ron and Hermione.
Ron was halfway through a mountain of scrambled eggs, while Hermione had already opened her book between bites of toast.
"Morning," I said, helping myself to porridge.
Ron gave a muffled grunt. Hermione looked up. "Harry, you're not still tired, are you? You look like you could use another hour."
"I'd agree," I said, spooning porridge, "but McGonagall would probably hex me if I skipped."
Ron chuckled. "True. She'd transfigure you into a quill and make you do everyone's homework."
I smirked. "Sounds like her style."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, the both of you…"
Greenhouse Three smelled of damp soil and manure.
Professor Sprout waddled to the front, cheeks ruddy and robes patched with dirt.
"Right, class," she said cheerfully. "Today's lesson is revision. Severing Charms, useful for pruning plants without getting eaten. Clear?"
Neville straightened up instantly, eyes bright.
Herbology was his territory.
Sprout clapped her hands. "Pair up, everyone!"
Ron and I shared a glance. "Alright, mate?"
"Yeah," I said, taking my wand. "Try not to lose a finger."
The plant in front of us was some kind of spiky vine, its thorns twitching like they were waiting for blood.
Ron muttered the incantation, and half a vine snapped free, slapping him in the face before falling limp.
"Oi!" he yelped, rubbing his nose.
I couldn't help it, I laughed. "Good effort, Ron. Just don't aim it at yourself."
Hermione leaned over from the next table. "You're supposed to focus on the point of severing, not wave your wand like you're swatting flies."
"Easy for you to say," Ron grumbled.
I ignored their bickering, raised my wand, and whispered, though I don't need words "Diffindo."
The vine sliced neatly, clean as a knife through butter.
The severed end curled harmlessly, as if acknowledging defeat.
Sprout happened to be passing by. She paused, glanced at the perfect cut, then at me.
Her brows rose just slightly, and for a second I thought she might comment.
But instead, she only nodded briskly and moved on.
Hermione frowned. "You didn't even, Harry, how did you make it look that smooth?"
I shrugged. "Guess the plant and I reached an understanding."
Ron muttered, "Show off."
-----------------------------------------
We regrouped at lunch, where Ron stacked his plate higher than anyone should humanly attempt.
"Mate, you're going to burst," I told him.
"It's strategy," Ron said, mouth full. "If I eat enough now, I won't starve in Binns's class."
Hermione gave him a withering look. "Honestly, Ronald, History of Magic is important—"
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said. "Vital to know which goblin sneezed on which treaty in 1284."
I nearly choked on pumpkin juice laughing.
Professor Binns floated through the blackboard mid sentence, droning on about some obscure goblin dispute.
Quills scratched, parchment rustled, and most of the class looked half dead.
Dean leaned across his desk toward me. "Two galleons says he's still on goblins by Christmas."
I grinned. "You're on. I'll even give you odds."
Seamus, sitting behind us, whispered, "I say he doesn't notice if I set off a firecracker in here."
Hermione turned, scandalized. "Seamus Finnigan, don't you dare!"
He grinned cheekily. "What? It'd wake people up!"
Binns's voice droned through the classroom like a broken gramophone stuck on the world's most uninteresting speech.
"…and thus the Goblin Uprising of 1612… a most pivotal moment, though largely ignored by wizards who… ah, yes… responded in kind with—"
I tuned out halfway. His voice was the magical equivalent of white noise.
If someone ever bottled boredom as a potion, they'd probably just record Professor Binns and stick it in a vial.
I slouched in my chair, doodling across the margins of my parchment.
A stick figure goblin with a pointy hat was shaking his fist at a wizard who looked suspiciously like Ron.
Ron leaned sideways, squinting. "Is that supposed to be me?"
"Maybe," I said, grinning. "Depends are you leading the Goblin Uprising?"
"Oi, if I were in charge, it wouldn't have lasted more than five minutes," Ron said. "I'd have told them all to sit down and shut it."
Hermione nearly dropped her quill. "That's not even remotely how negotiations work, Ron!"
Dean, who'd been listening in, leaned forward. "Nah, Ron's right. Blokes with swords coming at you? You tell them to sit down or you run. That's strategy."
Seamus snorted. "I'd just blow up their swords."
"Seamus!" Hermione gasped. "You can't solve everything with explosions!"
He grinned wickedly. "I don't know, Hermione. Haven't seen anything it hasn't solved yet."
Neville gave a nervous laugh. "You'd probably set the whole battlefield on fire."
"Exactly," Seamus said, proud.
I muffled my chuckle behind my hand.
Hermione muttered something about "irresponsible boys," then buried herself back in her notes.
Binns floated through the blackboard, still mumbling.
"…and this led to the infamous Treaty of—"
"Another treaty," Ron whispered, dramatically pretending to stab himself with his quill. "Kill me now."
I leaned over. "Can't. Sprout said we need you in Herbology. You're the one with the most enthusiasm for dirt."
Ron shoved me lightly. "That's Neville, not me!"
Neville turned pink. "I just… like plants."
"And they like you," I said honestly. "Better than they like any of us, anyway."
That got Neville smiling again.
By the halfway mark, half the class was glazed over.
Lavender and Parvati were whispering about something fashion related, Dean was sketching a Chudley Cannons poster in the corner of his notes, and Seamus… well, I was fairly certain Seamus was seriously weighing the possibility of sneaking a firecracker into class.
Hermione huffed at all of us. "You lot aren't even listening!"
"Neither are you," I pointed out. "You're too busy telling us off."
She glared, but Ron burst out laughing, which earned us a sharp "shhh!" from her.
"Don't worry, Hermione," I whispered, "if there's a pop quiz, we'll copy from you."
Her lips twitched despite herself.
When the bell finally rang, the class exhaled in relief like prisoners being set free.
"Best nap I've ever had," Seamus said, stretching.
Hermione whirled on him. "You can't just nap through history! It's vital to understand the foundation of our society—"
"Hermione," Ron cut in, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "if goblins ever rise up again, you can lead the negotiations. I'll be behind Harry with snacks."
"Oi, why am I in front?" I asked.
"Because you're the Chosen One, obviously." Ron grinned.
I groaned. "I swear, if that sticks, I'm hexing you."
He laughed, unbothered.
Hermione shook her head, muttering something about hopeless idiots, but I caught the smile tugging at her lips.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More slice of ife!!! and dont worry he is gonna train, I just made the pacing slow
Not gonna speedrun this year like the first one.
P.S - I messed up, this chapter was supposed to come yesterday but didnt cuz i messed up time shedule.
Also Happy Dussehra!!
Dussehra, also known as Vijayadashami, is celebrated to mark the victory of good over evil.