The days slipped by like water through their fingers. Every morning brought the Hogwarts letters closer, every evening reminded Hermione and Draco that the train would soon whisk them away. For Harry, who would not be boarding the scarlet steam engine, the coming departure weighed on him too, though he wore his usual calm mask.
Hermione, however, could not hide her feelings. She had been Harry's closest friend for as long as she could remember. The thought of Hogwarts without him gnawed at her. She had already spent nights staring at her new trunk, biting back tears.
Finally, one evening, she couldn't keep it in.
"Harry," she said suddenly while they were in the Highlands garden, "we need a day. Just you, me, and Draco. Before Hogwarts. Before everything changes."
Harry looked at her, seeing the plea in her brown eyes, and after a pause, he smiled faintly. "All right. One last day."
The following morning dawned crisp and clear. The three of them set off early, leaving behind Sirius, Lily, and Narcissa with reassurances that they wouldn't get into too much trouble.
They began in the Muggle world. Hermione dragged them into London, her hand latched onto Harry's sleeve as if she feared he might vanish.
"Look," she said, pointing to a bookstore window display. "They've got new history books out. I bet half of them are wrong, but still—"
Harry groaned good-naturedly. "Hermione, it's our last day, and you want to bury yourself in a bookstore?"
Draco wrinkled his nose. "This place smells of ink and dust. Let's go somewhere civilized."
Hermione huffed but relented, and instead, she treated them to ice cream in a busy café. They sat at a corner table, Harry and Draco trying to one-up each other with stories—Draco about the ridiculous rules at Malfoy Manor, Harry about Sirius's chaotic kitchen experiments. Hermione laughed until her sides hurt, though beneath the laughter was an ache she couldn't shake.
By midday, they crossed back into the magical world. The familiar cobblestones of Diagon Alley stretched before them, bustling with shoppers. But this time, there was no list, no errands. Today was about memories.
The three of them had wandered Diagon Alley until the sun dipped golden behind the crooked rooftops. Their bags were heavy with supplies, but their hearts were heavier still with the knowledge that this was their last day together before Hogwarts.
As they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry caught something. Draco had slowed his steps, his pale eyes fixed on the display window. Inside, gleaming under the lantern lights, was the Nimbus 2000. Its polished handle shone, the bristles sleek and straight, the very picture of speed and elegance.
Draco's gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before he quickly tore his eyes away, forcing a casual expression. But Harry had noticed.
Later, while Draco and Hermione browsed in a nearby quill shop, Harry slipped back. The gold he had was enough. When he rejoined them, a long package was tucked under his arm.
"What's that?" Draco asked suspiciously.
Harry thrust it at him. "For you."
Draco frowned, but curiosity won. He tore the paper back—and froze. "This… this is…"
"A Nimbus 2000," Harry finished. "The one you were staring at."
Draco's mouth actually dropped open. "Harry, I can't—first years aren't allowed broomsticks. You know that. They'll confiscate it the moment I step onto the train."
Harry smirked. "There's a way around that. Give it to an older student before you board. Then, whenever you want, just borrow it from them. Technically, you're not bringing it in—you're borrowing it. No rules broken."
Draco blinked at him, then laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's… brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." He clutched the broom tightly, his usual sneer nowhere to be found. For once, he looked only impressed. "Thank you, Harry. I'll never forget this."
But Harry wasn't finished. As they walked further down the Alley, he tugged Hermione into a small jewelry shop tucked between two larger stores. Delicate necklaces, bracelets, and rings glittered behind glass.
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Harry, what are we doing here?"
"You'll see."
He spoke quietly with the shopkeeper, then chose a necklace: a simple silver chain with a small, round pendant etched with faint runes. The moment Hermione touched it, the pendant glowed softly.
"It's enchanted," Harry explained. "Protection against minor hexes, curses, even mind arts. It'll shield you if someone tries something underhanded. Think of it as… me, looking out for you, even when I'm not there."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry… this is… it's too much."
He shook his head firmly. "No. You're going to Hogwarts without me. I need to know you're safe."
Her throat tightened. For a moment, she couldn't speak. Then she threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. "Thank you. I'll wear it always."
When she pulled back, her eyes were bright, but her smile was radiant. Draco smirked. "Trust Potter to make us both sentimental in the same afternoon."
Harry just shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're my friends. That's all that matters."
The evening crowd of Diagon Alley pressed around them as the three friends made their way back toward the Leaky Cauldron. Their arms were laden with purchases, but their spirits were light after the gifts exchanged between them.
Then a sudden crash split the air.
BANG—CRASH!
From a nearby pet shop, a stack of wooden crates tumbled, splitting open as straw and splinters scattered across the cobblestones. A blur of orange, black, and grey fur streaked into the street, followed by the shopkeeper's frantic cries.
"Catch them! Catch the Kneazles!"
Shoppers shrieked as the magical cats darted between legs, tails puffed and eyes glowing with mischief. One scrambled up a lamppost, another shot straight under a cart, and a third bounded toward the Alley entrance.
Harry immediately moved toward the noise, Draco close behind. "What happened?"
"Their cages broke," Hermione gasped, clutching her bag. "They're escaping!"
The shopkeeper, red-faced and out of breath, staggered after them, arms flailing. "Stop them—those beasts are valuable!"
And then, out of the chaos, one of the orange-furred Kneazles skidded to a halt directly in front of Hermione. Its eyes—large and amber—locked with hers. Instead of bolting, it sat back on its haunches and began to purr, low and steady.
Hermione blinked. "Oh… hello there."
The Kneazle rubbed against her ankle, its tail twitching as if it had been waiting for her all along. Hermione bent down, carefully scooping the creature into her arms. It nestled against her chest, purring louder.
By the time the shopkeeper came panting into view, the other Kneazles were wriggling in his arms. He froze at the sight of Hermione cradling the orange one, his eyes widening.
"Well, I'll be…" he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "That one's never taken to a soul before. Mean temper, that Kneazle. But look at him now—bonded already."
Hermione's face lit up, a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "Bonded? With me?"
Harry stepped forward before she could protest. "How much for him?"
The shopkeeper rattled off a price. Without hesitation, Harry pulled the necessary coins from his pouch and pressed them into the man's hand.
"There," Harry said with a grin. "Happy birthday in advance, Hermione."
Hermione's throat tightened. "Harry, you didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did." He tapped the Kneazle's nose. "He chose you. And you should keep him."
The orange Kneazle gave a soft chirrup, as if in agreement.
Hermione hugged it closer, her eyes shining. "Then I'll call him… Crookshanks."
Draco arched a brow. "Crookshanks? That's a dreadful name."
Hermione shot him a glare, though her smile never faded. "It's perfect."
Harry chuckled, falling into step as they resumed their walk, Crookshanks curled in Hermione's arms, purring like a tiny engine.
The Leaky Cauldron was bustling that evening, the air thick with the smell of stew and the chatter of wizards preparing for September first. Harry, Hermione, and Draco slipped inside with their packages, Crookshanks tucked in Hermione's arms, intending only to rest before the Floo carried them back to Highlands Manor.
But the chatter dimmed as two figures appeared near the hearth.
Albus Dumbledore, tall and commanding in his purple robes, and Professor Minerva McGonagall, stern and sharp as ever. Whispers spread like fire.
"It's the Headmaster—"
"Professor McGonagall—"
"Why are they here?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes fixed on Harry at once. "Harry Potter." His voice was calm, yet it carried across the room. "So it is true. You are here in Diagon Alley."
Hermione stiffened. Draco's hand went instinctively to his new wand.
Harry, however, stood straight, meeting the Headmaster's gaze without flinching. "And what of it?"
Dumbledore's expression softened, but his tone was firm. "I came because I must speak with you. You belong at Hogwarts, Harry. It is where you will be safe, where you will be among your peers, where you will learn what every young wizard must learn."
Harry folded his arms. "My parents decided otherwise. I will be homeschooled. I'll learn advanced magic from my family. That will do more for me than memorizing spells with eleven-year-olds."
McGonagall stepped forward, her voice clipped. "Mr. Potter, Hogwarts is not merely about lessons. It is tradition. It is community. It is where you make bonds that last a lifetime. Do you mean to throw all that aside?"
Hermione's lips pressed thin, torn between loyalty to Harry and her own excitement for Hogwarts. Draco looked between them all with barely concealed irritation.
"I don't need Hogwarts to make friends," Harry said firmly. "I already have them." He gestured toward Draco and Hermione. "And as for learning—I'll not waste my time on levitating feathers when I can be training with specialists."
The room gasped at his words.
Dumbledore's expression flickered, just for a second, before he tried again. "And your friends? They will be at Hogwarts. Are you content to let them go on without you?"
Hermione's throat tightened, but Harry didn't waver. "I trust them. And they trust me. That's all that matters."
McGonagall's eyes softened slightly. "Harry—"
But before she could say more, Harry raised his hand. Energy pulsed, and with a shimmer of starlight, a portal blossomed into being at his side—a star-shaped gateway opening onto the familiar grounds of Highlands Manor. The entire pub fell silent at the sight, their disbelief painted on their faces.
Harry looked at Dumbledore one last time. "I've made my choice. Nothing you say will change it."
He turned to Draco and Hermione. "Come on."
The three of them stepped into the glowing portal, Crookshanks's tail flicking as the light swallowed them whole. The portal closed with a soft hum, leaving the Leaky Cauldron in stunned silence.
Then the whispers began.
"Harry Potter… not going to Hogwarts?"
"Did you see that magic—?"
"A portal! By Merlin, he's more powerful than I thought."
And just like that, the wizarding world learned the unthinkable: Harry Potter had turned his back on Hogwarts.
The wizarding world had already moved on. For two days straight, the Daily Prophet printed nothing but headlines about Harry Potter refusing Hogwarts, each more dramatic than the last. But then, almost as suddenly as it began, the papers fell silent. The story vanished from the front page, replaced by Quidditch scores and Ministry debates.
At Highlands Manor, Harry thought no more of it—until a snowy owl arrived bearing a desperate note from Draco.
Come at once. Trunk. Disaster. – D.M.
Harry laughed when he read it. "Of course. Hermione probably packed her trunk the day she bought it. And Draco… well, Draco left it for the last possible moment."
When Harry arrived at Malfoy Manor by Floo, he found Draco in his room surrounded by chaos. Robes were draped over the bedpost, books lay in piles across the floor, and potion vials rolled dangerously close to the carpet.
Draco was pacing, his hair a mess. "I can't fit everything. It's impossible. The compartments won't balance, the runes won't hold—"
Harry crossed his arms. "You haven't even tried properly, have you?"
Draco scowled. "That's why I sent for you."
Harry sighed, then knelt by the enchanted trunk. With practiced care, he began to organize. Robes were folded into one compartment, books stacked in another. Draco's prized volumes on enchanting and runes went into a rune-sealed section, shielded from dust and damage. The delicate glass pieces, crystals, and equipment for their camera and projector projects were wrapped and slid into padded compartments designed for fragile items.
"See?" Harry muttered, adjusting a rune plate so the trunk expanded evenly. "If you plan it right, everything fits. And your enchanting tools stay protected."
Draco watched, grudging admiration creeping into his voice. "You make it look… easy."
Harry smirked. "Because it is. You just panic too quickly."
Narcissa appeared in the doorway, her pale eyes soft as she surveyed the neatly packed trunk. "Thank you, Harry. You've saved us from another Malfoy catastrophe."
Draco flushed. "Mother—"
But Narcissa smiled faintly, pride warming her voice. "It suits you, Draco. You're prepared now. And with these books and tools, you will not be idle at Hogwarts."
The door burst open, and Nymphadora Tonks tumbled in, her hair a brilliant shade of green. "So this is where the action is! I wasn't about to let Draco leave for Hogwarts without saying goodbye."
Draco groaned. "Merlin help me."
But Tonks only grinned wider. "Oh, don't pout, cousin. You'll miss me when you're stuck in a castle full of rules."
She dropped onto Draco's bed, swinging her legs. "Besides, I wanted to spend time here before you go. Highlands Manor is too quiet without me."
Harry chuckled, closing the trunk with a snap. "Well, you're welcome to come whenever you want. But you'd better get used to fewer accidents at Hogwarts, or McGonagall will throw you out before she teaches you."
Tonks stuck out her tongue, then turned to Draco. "You nervous?"
Draco hesitated, then shook his head stubbornly. "Not at all. I'm ready. Especially now." He glanced at Harry, his hand resting on the trunk. "Thanks."
Harry gave a short nod. "That's what friends are for."
And with that, the last-minute panic faded into laughter, the weight of parting softened by companionship. For all the change Hogwarts would bring, Draco knew he was carrying more than books and robes—he was carrying the bond they had forged.
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