Harry slowly awoke at the crack of dawn. When he was finally fully aware, it was to realize that he was pain free. For the first time in years, not a single nerve screamed when he moved. He smiled softly, wondering at the feeling. However, he didn't need to speak to know that not all his pains were gone. But if he refrained from talking too much, his damaged throat shouldn't hurt too badly.

Opening his eyes, he looked about. The Hospital Wing was practically deserted, as he didn't even see the Healer about. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses that were on the bed-side table. Putting them on, he sighed in relief as he confirmed what his blurry sight had noticed. There wasn't a soul about that early morning. Getting up, he headed for the bathroom. Oddly, he hadn't noticed it when he first woke up, or even after he put his glasses on. Only when he decided he needed to go did he see it. He suspected there was a bit of magic in that.

Preparing for the day swiftly was practically a talent of Harry's, and it was only a half-hour later when he came out clean and dressed. By that time Madam Pomfrey was awake, and was waiting for him in the main room of the Hospital Wing. She smiled at him gently, and stated "Professor Snape has insisted that you eat breakfast here, and I quite agree with him." She pointed at the bedside table, which had a breakfast serving tray on it. She said briefly "After you finish eating, I shall give you a potion for your throat. Also, this potion will be at the breakfast table for you every morning. You'll find it easier to talk after drinking it."

Harry blinked, then shrugged in a bemused way. He should have known that she would have something for his throat. After all, it wouldn't do for her to find out, and then not treat it. So he did as he was bid and ate his breakfast. He then choked down the revolting potion. It didn't taste much like anything, but it was thick and viscous. He hated thinks that slid down his throat like that, which was likely the reason he detested porridge.

After he was done eating, Madam Pomfrey showed him the door. He was surprised to notice that his year mates were outside waiting for him. Draco had his bag, which he handed to him after spying him. Draco said "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. If you'll excuse us, we have morning classes to get to." The Healer practically shooed them away, though it was fairly kindly. Draco grinned slightly, and all the First Years walked to History of Magic, their first class of the day.

It was to great disgust when Harry realized that this boring class would be their first double period of the year. He had trouble staying awake for the ghost that just droned on and on. He wondered if it would be easier to stay awake if he took notes, and soon found that it was. Despite the fact it would get him the reputation of being a bookworm, he continued on. It was with a self-satisfied smile that he left History. He had found the key to staying awake, and he planned on using that key often.

***

The day passed swiftly, and it was finally the last class of the day. It was one Harry looked forward to since he had learned it would be one of the classes First Years took. However, he was bitterly disappointed as Flying class was interrupted by the klutzy Neville. He wasn't angry that the boy had fallen, indeed he was concerned that his year mate would be alright. He was merely saddened that class was postponed until afterwards.

Later Harry would wonder if the following events happened because he was bored. Whatever the reason, he would shake his head at his utter stupidity. For after Professor Hooch had left with Neville, a boy from the Gryffindor House spotted something that Longbottom had dropped. Unlike Slytherins, who would have held onto the strange ball until their injured house-mate was able to bed it off of them, this boy toyed with the idea of hiding it. This blatant display of bullying got Harry's dander up, and he confronted the Lion.

"Finnigan, either give it to one of the others if your incapable of returning a Housemate's item, or give it here and I will return it to Longbottom." Harry bit down on his quivering, for Seamus Finnigan was far bigger then him, despite being of the same year. It did help his courage as he realized his Housemates had fallen in behind him, giving him back-up as it were. It was a good thing, for Finnigan merely sneered at him, and made as if to push him. He was barely stopped by the bushy haired girl Harry remembered as being Hermoine Granger. She stated that it was against school rules to fight, and did they want to be thrown in detention?

Instead of listening to Granger, Finnigan grabbed his broom stating "Perhaps Longbottom will be able to find his little trinket on the roof?" He took off, laughing obnoxiously. Harry growled to himself, grabbed his own broom, and followed despite warnings from his Housemates, and the Gryffindors as well. He soon found out that flying was easier than everyone made it seem. It was with this ease that Harry followed his opponent, keeping his good eye upon him. Luck was with him that day, as he was easily able to spot the small ball that Finnigan threw towards the wall. With a careless attitude about his welfare, he flew straight for the wall and the falling object. Catching the item was easy, but after he swerved from the wall, he headed for land. All were staring at him, stunned that he had pulled off such a precarious turn.

Fortune soon left him, as he heard just behind him a dangerously silky voice say "And would you care to explain, Mr. Potter, what that display was all about?" Turning about sharply, Harry gazed up at his obviously livid Head of House. Wondering just how he was going to get his head off the chopping block that time, Harry couldn't repress a shudder of absolute terror. His first two days had been better than most of his life, and now his Hogwarts days were over. He wondered what god he had angered for his life to be so messed up.