The red locomotive stands next to platform 9 ¾, steam starting to swirl out of the chimneys when the engine fires up.

'Mum,' I sigh, reaching for the handle of the trunk behind me while I'm crushed between my mother's arms. 'I'm going to be late if you don't let go.'

She lets go and takes a step back until she stands next to my father. 'Please be careful,' she says. 'Write us every week, you have that owl for a reason!'

I grin, glancing at my black owl in his cage. 'I'll try,' I answer, trying not to make it sound like a lie as I know I probably won't write every week. Which fifteen year old boy does that?

My mother squints her eyes but my older brother Samuel pushes me to the Hogwarts Express when the sharp whistle of the conductor rings through the air.

'Bye,' he says. 'Have fun!'

Sam graduated last year, and I must admit, it feels kind of strange to board the Express without him.

I lift my trunk and the cage into the locomotive and hop inside, turning around to wave my family goodbye.

The clock by the platform strikes eleven o'clock and the locomotive starts to move. Within seconds, King's Cross disappears into the distance and London shoots past as the Express gains speed.

I walk through the corridors until I spot a compartment with Cho Chang and Roger Davies.

'Hi, guys,' I greet them, opening the glass door of the compartment. 'Mind if I sit with you?'

Both of them are in Ravenclaw as well, and though Cho is one year older and Roger two years, I consider them as my friends. I'm not as close to them as I am with Beatrice, but then, we're best friends for a reason.

'Hi, Thomas,' Cho says with a small smile, and she gestures for me to join them. I put my trunk in the luggage rack above the seats, but take my owl Dante out of his cage before lifting it on the rack as well.

Roger eyes Dante suspiciously. 'He won't fly around, right?'

I shake my head, allowing Dante to rest on my shoulder, and sit down across from Cho.

'How has your summer been?' I ask her, observing her dark eyes which sadden in an instance. Cedric Diggory's death at the end of the Triwizard Tournament was tragic, but for Cho it was painful as well as she was his girlfriend last year.

'It was alright,' she answers with a shrug, causing her straight, black hair to dance over her shoulders. 'My parents almost didn't want me to return to Hogwarts this year, but I convinced them to let me go.'

I nod, knowing what she means. 'Hogwarts is the safest place at the moment,' I say, but Roger scoffs.

'Please,' he starts, 'you don't actually believe You-Know-Who has returned? That's just Potter, trying to seek the attention he didn't get as a child.'

I look at him in disbelief, but Cho skilfully changes the subject and she points at the silver badge pinned on my black robes.

'Professor Dumbledore made you a Prefect? Congratulations!'

'Thank you,' I say after a small hesitation before deciding it's not worth arguing with Roger on this subject. I know many don't believe Harry Potter and his claim about the Dark Lord's return, but I believe him. Granted, he has a knack for being there when something happens, but why would he lie about how Cedric died?

A silence falls between the three of us. Cho stares out of the window, looking at our surroundings while Roger takes out the Daily Prophet and starts reading. I caress Dante's black feathers and he softly hoots, closing his yellow eyes and he starts dozing off.

At eleven thirty, I stand up and put Dante back in his cage.

'I need to go the Prefects' carriage,' I explain when I notice the questioning looks. 'See you later.'

I step onto the hallway and take a deep breath before setting course to the Prefects' carriage. I didn't expect to become a Prefect and almost had a heart attack when I received the letter a few weeks back. I'm not sure if I'm cut out for so many responsibilities ─ I like my fair share of fun as well.

'Hello,' I say when I enter the carriage. Several heads turn my way and till my surprise I spot Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

'Thomas, welcome,' the Head Girl at the front says. 'Please, sit down, and then we can get started.'

Both Gryffindors flash me a smile when I sit down on the seat behind them and I can't help but to grin back as I lean a bit forward. Ron becoming a Prefect is as unexpected as the sun rising in the west. Hermione, of course, was the obvious choice.

'How's your summer been, Ron, Hermione?' I ask, not noticing the annoying glare the Head Boy gives me.

'Rather interesting, actually,' Ron whispers.

Hermione hushes us before he can continue, but at the same time the Head Boy speaks up.

'Thomas. You're already late, please don't make us wait longer.'

I frown. 'Late?' I repeat, looking at my watch. The clock hand moves past eleven thirty-five. I suppose the walk to the front of the Express took longer than expected.

'Sorry,' I say, folding my hands in my lap and leaning against the backrest.

The Head Boy nods lightly, as if to convince himself he did a good job.

'Now that we're all present, we like to welcome you, new and old Prefects. . .'

I try to listen, honesty, but soon my mind drifts off as the sun outside breaks through the clouds. The rays of sunshine fall through the window, right onto Hermione's curly hair and it sparkles each time she hums in agreement to something the Head Boy or Girl said.

'Thomas Ridley ─' I hear my name and quickly look up, tearing my eyes from the stars in Hermione's hair.

'and Draco Malfoy, you two will patrol the Express from three till four,' the Head Girl instructs us before continuing calling names.

'Good luck with that,' Ron says over his shoulder, and Hermione slaps his arm.

'Be nice, Ronald. I'm sure professor Dumbledore had a reason for making him a Prefect.'

'Yeah, sure,' Ron huffs.

'I suppose otherwise his father would have heard about it,' I add, trying to impersonate Draco's voice the best I can.

Ron snorts, quickly covering up his laugh with a cough, and Hermione fights back her smile as well.

I grin, it feels good to be back, even though there is an invisible tense sensation ─ like the air before a lightning strike ─ lingering in our minds.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, but with the Ministry of Magic not believing him and not anything strange happening this summer, the real question is; what is he planning?