A black-haired boy with a curiously shaped scar on his forehead was asleep in a chair near the window. There was a newspaper lying under a cage with a white owl inside. The newspaper’s picture was moving. It showed a man wearing a lime-green bowler hat talking and looking very exasperated. The newspaper said “He Who Must Not Be Named HAS RETURNED”. Suddenly, the sleeping boy woke up. He blinked and put on his glasses. His name was Harry Potter and he survived Voldemort’s attack when he was just a baby.

Harry looked out the window. It was a very bright, sunny day. He smiled. Today would be his first day in his 8th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Timeskip to when the Sorting was done.

Harry walked up to Gryffindor Tower with his two friends; Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Suddenly a blur of white-blond, black, and green went flashing up to him. A voice said “Bet you’re going to use the 8th year for more fame, Potter?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, just shush it, Malfoy.” He said to Draco Malfoy, who had put on his usual mischievous smirk. Harry, Ron and Hermione finally reached Gryffindor Tower. They went inside to be confronted with anxious faces and frightened first-years. “Harry, why do you think h-he’s back?” asked Neville Longbottom, a fellow 8th year Gryffindor. “I-“ said Harry, not knowing what to say. “I dunno,” he said. Neville made a frightened little noise and went up to the boys’ dormitory. “Harry,” said Ron, turning to Harry. “What?” said Harry. “Well, it’s like what Neville said. Why do you think he’s back?” said Ron. “I’ve told him I don’t know, and I really don’t know, Ron!” said Harry angrily. Harry and Ron walked to the boys’ dormitory while Hermione walked to the girls’ dormitory.

Harry sat on his bed. He took the two-inch fragment of the mirror that Sirius Black, his godfather, had given him. He had found out last year that the brother of Albus Dumbledore, Aberforth Dumbledore, had been owning it and was still owning it. Harry stared at it for some time then put it back in his bag. He took off his glasses, swung the hangings shut and flopped on his bed. Neville’s snores filled the room long before Harry finally fell asleep.

The next day

Harry woke up. He put on his glasses to be greeted with a very chaotic scene. Seamus Finnigan had tried to enchant his piece of paper but as always had made it explode. Poor Neville was standing nearby and was now lying on the floor. “What happ- are you OK, Neville?!” said Harry, picking Neville up. “I- Harry-“ Neville spluttered. Harry led Neville to his bed and went out into the Great Hall. There were many people staring and whispering about him. Suddenly, a voice said “Oh he’s here! Famous Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy who Lived!” It was Malfoy. “Shush it, Malfoy,” said Harry angrily. “Why should I? Oh, because you’re the Chosen One!” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Stop it will you!” said Harry loudly. Malfoy replied with a glare at him, “As if you think I would, Potter!”. Harry just rolled his eyes and walked away to the Gryffindor table. Malfoy glared malevolently at Harry then walked away to the Slytherin table. “That git Malfoy,” muttered Ron, looking at Malfoy across the Great Hall. Harry looked around and asked “Where’s Hermione?” “I’ the bloo’y libyayee o’ cos’!” said Ron, as his mouth was filled to bursting point with bacon and toast. Harry sighed and speared his bacon with his fork and ate it. Once Harry had finished, he felt like playing Quidditch so he went out. Unfortunately, Malfoy also felt like flying. “What’re you-what’re you doing here, Malfoy?” said Harry, mounting his broom.

“To fly of course Potter,” replied Malfoy, kicking off from the ground. Harry kicked of from the ground and sped through the blue sky. It was delightful, a blue sky, white and fluffy clouds, a bright sun and a few small feathery birds flying. The thing was that Malfoy was here.

He was a white-blond, grey and white blur speeding across the grounds. Harry was a black, green and white blur speeding across the sky.