~*~Prologue~*~

It was a sunny afternoon in August, and Harry was sitting alone in his bedroom, staring at the latest issue of Which Broomstick?, which had only arrived that morning by means of his trusty friend and messenger owl, Hedwig. He had been staring at that magazine for hours, and after a certain point it was rather useless trying to read it, as he had been cover to cover about six times already. For now, he was just gazing at the glossy cover, which showed a picture of a young-ish looking wizard in brilliant green robes, riding the new Firebolt Gold Edition, which had just been released. The wizard was smiling quite brightly, and every now and then he would turn his head and wave at Harry, who had after all these years finally gotten used to these animated magazine covers.

            Harry was lost in thought, not about his current holiday term, but about the following school year, which he could hardly wait for. He knew that his fifth year at Hogwarts would be difficult, since it was the year he was to take his O.W.L. examinations, but still he couldn't wait to get back on the grounds. He loved Hogwarts, it was the only place he felt truly at home, and he needed to get away from the moronic twits he was forced to call 'aunt', 'uncle', and 'cousin'. Additionally, he couldn't wait to get back to seeing her on a regular basis again, and at this thought a small smile played across his face. Thinking of her was the one thing that got him through the summer; well no, that wasn't true really, thinking about all his mates and the Quidditch games and the food was pretty brightening as well. But really, thinking about her certainly did help. After all these years, it had taken until this past summer to finally sort out how he really felt about his dear friend; and after many weeks of missing her smile, her charisma, and the incredibly adorable way she would nag him, almost like the mother he'd never had... oh hell, he wanted her. All the dreams, the dreams he would never for the life of him tell anyone about, the first dreams of this sort he had ever had about any girl, only fueled the fire in his heart for her. Of course, there was the slight issue that he was pretty certain that his best mate felt the same way about her-- and that she might feel that way for him as well-- but still, Harry knew that he could no longer deny the way he felt.

            It was these thoughts which got him through the last few days with his moronic excuse of a family. He had had quite the relaxing summer, the most strenuous of his activities being the trip to the park he so seldom made when he needed some exercise. He usually had only Hedwig to accompany him, but that was a bore, and besides, it earned him quite a few disturbing looks from the neighbors. And Harry knew that the very last thing he needed was for his sad uncle Vernon to blow his top because someone decided that Harry and his owl were disturbing the peace. So Harry spent most of his days trapped in the prison that was Number Four, Privet Drive. Luckily, he had a few cards and letters from his friends to tide him over until (in just three days!) he would finally get to see them again, in the flesh. He wondered if they thought about him at all over the summer, or whether they were too busy having normal teenage summer holidays. The kind that involved family and beaches and (if you were lucky) a summer romance with which to occupy one's time. Harry sighed, and walked across his small room until he reached his bed, which he promptly flopped onto and dramatically flung his arm over his head, willing himself to sleep so that the days would pass more quickly.

            At that moment, a small dark owl flew into Harry's open window, almost crashing into his wardrobe door. Harry jumped up and ran (not far) to where the owl stopped, flapping its wings skittishly, looking quite confused. Harry saw the edge of a white envelope, and happily grabbed it from the small owl's beak, slightly upsetting the owl. He set the envelope down, offered the owl some of Hedwig's treats from his cage, and took the envelope to his bed. He sat down and looked at it for a while before opening it, and was surprised to find that nothing at all had been written on the outside. Finding this odd, he carefully opened the back flap, careful not to damage the envelope, though he didn't know why. He pulled the letter out, a thick-ish letter of at least 3 pages, and found a familiar feminine script lining its pages. His heart soared-- she hadn't forgotten about him (although it was rather foolish of him to think she would, as she had sent him a birthday card only last month). Most of the letter was filled with friendly chatter, going on about her trip to America with her parents, and how it was so strange to hear people speaking her language in such a mangled and unrecognizable way. Finally, about two and a half pages into the letter, she got to the point.

 “Harry, I know there's only a few days left until the start of term. I also know that your dreadful family probably hasn't let you go out to retrieve your books and supplies for the year. Well, thanks to our delayed departure from Boston, my family's only just arrived back in London, and I still need to get my things as well. I was wondering--”  And this was where Harry stopped reading, looked up with a brilliant grin on his face, and whooped with joy. He was finally going to get to see her, after all this time waiting. He stopped shouting and glanced back down at the sheet of paper he was holding. “...I was wondering if you'd like to come and meet me and Ron at Diagon Alley tomorrow, to get our things. I've already written him, you needn't worry about that. Anyway, at the bottom of this note I've left my phone number, so if your aunt and uncle are out of the house you can give me a call, and let me know whether you can come or not. I really, really hope you can come, Harry. Talk to you soon, Hermione”.

            And that was it. Harry stared at the letter he was holding, deep in thought. She had already called Ron- did that mean that she had only called Harry as an afterthought? Or that she was planning to ask them both anyway, but Ron's name happened to come to mind first? Why not Harry's? Had the two of them been secretly seeing each other all summer? Why didn't she write sooner? Did she give Ron her phone number too, or only Harry?

            Harry silently scolded himself for thinking such stupid, insignificant things. He knew that both Ron and Hermione had probably been busy all holiday, and this was probably the first correspondance any of them had had, besides the birthday card. He crossed the room from his bed to his wardrobe, knelt down, and pulled out a small box of random things he had collected over the years... pictures of himself and his friends, the old photo album of his parents, and his first letter from Hogwarts were included among its contents. He placed Hermione's letter inside, on top of every other letter, note, or photo of hers he had ever gotten. He replaced the box's lid, looked at the box for a second, and then put it away. He repeated to himself the number, which he had obviously committed to memory, and vowed to call her tomorrow-- as soon as the stupid Dursleys left. With the plan set in his head, he smiled and went back to his bed. Suddenly, the wait until Hogwarts just didn't feel long enough.