Harry Potter 1. Default Chapter

The rise of the Phoenix

I'm typing this up on my pda, so please excuse me if the quality isn't too good. This, takes place after the fifth year (that's sixth year), and, mostly will take place from Hermione's point of view. Please read and preferably review too. The pg-13 rating is for mild sexual innuendos (Frankly I don't find much in this chapter at least to worry about, but I've recently had a fanfiction deleted for ratings so I'm being cautious)

Bulgaria was a beautiful place in summer. Huge, rolling, windswept plains. If one could ignore the constant rain, uncharacteristic to a girl raised in England, the grandiose land would be perfect. Luckily, Hermione had plenty to distract her from the less-than-halcyon weather. First were her OWL results. She had achieved Outstanding in everything, which, admittedly, really was outstanding. The second thing was not as nice a prospect, as this was her last day in Bulgaria. The last year, she had been too busy with the Order of the phoenix to do anything with Viktor Krum other than be very intimate penpals. This year however, with the Ministry on their side, Hermione had much more free time, and gladly accepted Viktor's invitation to visit him over the summer. Hermione sighed, swept her hair back from the mess the wind blew it in, and headed back to the house. 

Their relationship had progressed reasonably far, with her comfortable with hugging and snuggling now. She was trying to hide it from Ron but, she guessed, the fact that one of her letters written to him was written on official Bulgarian quidditch team paper embossed with the team logo and Krum's name, gave it away. Well, she had been preoccupied with the startling revelation that _she_, yes _she Hermione Granger, was behind on her holiday homework. The thought was quite sobering, really. Hermione gave a sigh as she looked at the pile of unfinished essays. The only one she had done satisfactorily to her standards was her Defense against the Dark Arts essay. Even though Umbridge hadn't been able to set them after she had been informally chased from the school premises by a poltergeist waving a walking stick, it seemed as if the new, yet unknown replacement had sent everyone essays to write. The funny thing was it was about Foreign Spells and the Teaching Practices of Foreign institutes. Perfectly tailored for her as she was staying with the star pupil of Durmstrang institute. Several owls swooped down from the dark clouds, probably a precursor of yet another spell of heavy rain, bearing on their outstretched feet, letters. One was a large tawny owl, bearing a letter with the Hogwarts seal upon it. There was the usual host of spell books with, she noticed, several new curse books she remembered discussing with Viktor when writing her essay. Hmm, seems that the new teacher may have been from Durmstrang. Makes sense, after Karkaroff left, quite a few Defense of the Dark Arts teachers had been fired, even though, she realized, after flicking through some of Viktors old school books, there was no denying that they were extremely good. Some of the first years were learning stuff not normally associated even with Hogwarts seventh years, though Durmstrangs teaching quality really suffered in other aspects. She guessed that being in a country where unforgivable curses weren't really unforgivable and were taught as part of school curriculum did that. She tossed the letter aside after making a mental note of the books she needed, then looked for the second owl. It took her a second or so to find it as its snowy white down was quite hard to find on the icy lake. Why couldn't Hedwig just land some place other than that lake. She opened up his letter. It was mostly just inquiring when she would be back and reminding her of her birthday, showing that he had not forgotten. She did notice a considerable change in his writing style, using more abject vocabulary. Well, Sirius had died. Hermione cursed herself for her insensitivity and wiped away the tears welling up in her eyes. While she was here, having the time of her life, Harry was stuck with the Dursleys who were doing god knows what to him. Smiling slightly to herself, she tucked it into her pocket for a closer read when she had time. Then she looked around for the final owl. In fact it was two. There was a very old, moulting grey owl, exhausted by a journey miles more than it was usually capable of. She felt kind of sad for poor Errol. Imagine flying all the way from England, and the weather hadn't been all airy either. Under the old, lifeless assortment of feathers was another equally weak and pitiful albeit eager, puff of feathers. Pigwidgeon, or as Ron would misleadingly call the little raptor, pig, still chirped happily after flying through several blizzards and then, be nearly crushed by another owl. She unclipped Ron's letter and scanned through it, ignoring the blatant remarks about her time with Krum and the badly hidden, not-so-subtle, sarcasm scattered throughout the document. Basically, she summed the letter up to be roughly having the same meaning as Harry's though with slightly harsher language, rougher paper and in a messy scrawl not very well augmented by a mess of grey feathers. As the first few drops of rain began falling from the darkening sky, she picked up Ron's assortment of owls, gave Hedwig a friendly pat on the head, then returned to the massive mansion that was the home of one of the most celebrated and skilled quidditch players in the world and her very close friend._

 Hermione entered the large corridor after firmly telling ten of Viktor's house elves that she did not need anything more to eat or new socks. Viktor was always telling not her to be so engagé. Hermione accepted his criticism with a smouldering chagrin, but it rubbed into her deeply that nearly no one else supported her campaign. It was clear that the condition of the house elves had not progressed through the antebellum times, during the dark Voldemort era and to the present day. At least she could console herself with the fact that although Viktor had massive lands, he had twelve house elves so they rarely had to do much work. Nevertheless, the fact that she had to stay in a house holding twelve slaves in captivity had proved a major hurdle in their relationship.       

Hermione wrinkled her nose slightly as Viktor returned from yet another round of his all-important quidditch practice, covered with mud and slinging his broomsticks under his arm. As he did a quick cleansing charm on himself, she noticed he seemed to have two broomsticks, one gaudily wrapped with the firebolt logo emblazoned in flaming letters upon the red and gold wrappings. 

_Great isn't it, of all the birthday gifts Viktor could have gotten me, he had to get me a broomstick._

Even if it is one of those brand new, prestigious firebolts, she didn't have the fanatic enthusiasm for quidditch even though all her friends and Viktor, whom she had begun to regard as more than a friend, were quidditch players and Harry and Viktor, especially good ones. But as soon as she had ripped the paper off, thinking of some way to break the news to Viktor that she didn't have any particular affection for flying, the sight of the broomstick literally took her breath away. It was more than merely nice, it was beautiful. Even if it was not a state of the art flying tool, it would have been an extremely nice piece of art. 

Beaming Viktor told her "Happy Birthday Hermione, it is a custom made firebolt" **(Author note: I can't write accents which is why all the characters which should be otherwise talking weirdly is typed out as normal English) **

Hermione still gaped in awe at firebolt. She may even try out for the Gryffindor team for the simple pleasure of flying this. The basic broom looked much like Harry's but was more slender, and upon sitting on it, seemed to be shaped exactly for her rather than mass produced. The wood was inlaid with gold and, carved into the essential fabric of the wood was _Hermione, Happy Birthday, Viktor Krum. The cushioning charms on the broomstick made her feel as though she was sitting on a large sofa rather than a floating stick. All in all it looked way better than an ordinary firebolt and that was saying something. She beamed happily at Viktor who was looking at her rather sheepishly._

"Oh thank you Viktor. It's beautiful"

She stared straight into his eyes, stroking the gold emblazoned names on the firebolt, then tossed it aside, wrapping her arms around him, lips entwined as if in everlasting unity. As their lips met, tongues roving, exploring within, Viktor's hands roamed around. And, Hermione thought, she would let him, just this once. They collapsed into the bed, all their mortal worries abandoned in the pitter-pattering of the rain and the setting sun.


	2. Lives Stagnating

Raskolian and Ratchet Lombax: Good point, there is already romance. Thanks for the compliments, and, looking deeper, thanks for reviewing. Harry Potter seems to get a thousand or so new stories daily so anything new seems to stay new for about five minutes before it is edged out. I'm not primarily a Harry Potter fanfic writer. I just got ushered onto the band wagon by the rising hype

Hermiones head lolled on to the plush arm of the seat as she stared out of the window. She ignored the meal prepared for her by the staff of the interwizarding railroads corp., opting instead to stare at the changing landscape, thinking, pondering, mulling over Viktors final statement.

_They kissed one last time on the railroad station ignoring the horde of amateur paparazzi photographers, eager to make their names existent through some obscure story. The rain poured around them, mirroring their mood as did the lingering rainbow, lighting up the dull sky. She had expressed her heart, her trepidation that she would have to wait an entire year before seeing him once more. Instead of sharing in her woe, he had simply smiled and replied, in a voice as quiet as the sweeping rain, perhaps to throw off the reporters, perhaps it was a figment of her grief and love stuck mind, 'Don't worry. I have a feeling it won't be so long. Look to the sky that is not the sky, at the place where all unite'._

She had wondered what he had meant by that enigmatic statement, barely heard over the raining torrent, but he merely smiled softly as she was ushered onto the train. 

Hermione looked once again at her Hogwarts letter, it would be so nice to return to it, all her friends, and, she remembered as she traced the scar she still had across her chest as a reminder of the dangers of Hogwarts, that her time there had not been all airy and fairy either. She had been attacked by a basilisk, seen horrors beyond comprehension, been cursed in a melee with a band of death-eaters, yet there she had made her greatest friends, lived up to her potential, and with facing her greatest fears, she had emerged Antaean. 

This year, so much was different from before. Now she had a boyfriend, yes she regarded Viktor as such though the thought still brought a little twinge of embarrassment to her cheeks, Ron was suffering from personal problems as she found out in his letters. His parents, already distraught at Percy was now, absolutely livid at Fred and George, though the fact that they were already discussing a merge with Zonko and were reaping in around a thousand galleons monthly. She guessed that now, with Voldemort on the rise, people needed more laughs than ever. And Harry, she didn't really know if she could face him with Sirius gone and all. She knew, from his letters, that the only thing which led him through the long holidays was the faint beam of hope that someday, he might have the chance to leave the Durseleys for good, to live with his devoted Godfather. Now his dream was dashed, as surely as Sirius had died that night, in the department of mysteries. Everything about his life had fallen apart last year. All his private dreams and hopes, even Cho, the girl he had loved for god knows how long, had deserted him when he needed love and consolation the most. The sorting hat had said to them _We must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within, if people wouldn't even support Harry after all he's done, the world of good would collapse until it was the tiniest particle worth imagining. But, all those problems, she thought as she gripped onto her luggage with one hand and touched the portkey with other, that would have to wait until she arrived in Diagon Alley. As the world swirled around her, and she felt the characteristic jolt around her navel, she just couldn't get it out of her mind how bad their lives had really become._

As always, if I'm lucky enough to catch a reader before the sheer scale of the stories on fanfiction.net edges my story into oblivion, please, please review.


	3. Diagon Alley

This doesn't have as much airy fairy description as the previous chapter. Instead of elaborating on specific plot segments this chapter is less well written but is more concise, I'll probably revert back to my previous style in the next chapter or so. I'll probably be offering cameos, though that is not set in stone yet. Preferably, I'd like a real name if your nickname is, like many frequenters of harry potter, Ginny W or Ron Weasley or something as having 15 Hermiones would kinda ruin the point of cameos.

F75: Not all the way. I won't say too much but later on something will happen which would make that impossible.

Crazylittlebumblebee: Yeah, fanfictions in Harry Potter never gets much time on the front page. July the Fourth was really good though. As I am not American, I don't celebrate independence day, which is why I guess, I managed to stay on so long.

The redbrick wall rearranged themselves into a wide archway, showing a twisty path that twisted itself out of sight, cauldrons, magical creatures, books littered the dusty floor contributing to the higgledy-piggledy motley of magical people. Hermione weaved herself through the crowd of wizards, witches, barely disguised trolls, goblins, disputable figures and all others of the magical community, to the Leaky Cauldron. First, she eagerly scanned the listing of guests, checking for "Potter" or "Weasley", but they weren't there. Guess they haven't arrived yet. She checked the listings for the rooms,  looking mournfully at her dwindling bank account, then remembered Viktors' Gringotts account number. _Oh well, he has so many billions of galleons there, he won't notice a couple missing. Smiling inwardly to herself, she rolled off the number and password and dragged her trunk carefully up the stairs. The room was well worth the hefty price, huge corridor, large chandelier hanging over her head, massive bed, and private bath reminiscent of the Prefects bathroom back in Hogwarts. It even had a house elf there, who she gave firm instructions to go and enjoy herself. She lay her trunk beside the bed, and, on closer thinking, locked up her new broomstick. Judging from what Harry's broomstick is supposed to cost, the price tag must have been pretty hefty. Pulling out the Hogwarts letter, she walked out of the resplendent room to buy her needed books._

She stopped by Madam Malkin's Robes to purchase some new robes along with some, rather risqué dress robes for the holidays. She then went to buy her spell books. Hermione was still taking all her OWL subjects, although there was no career which needed all those it kept her options open. The new curse books were especially hard to attain as some of them were actually illegal in Britain, requiring her to produce her letter before she was allowed her copy. She also leafed through some rather interesting books on Goblin revolutions. She saw a particularly interesting book on the history of the Voldemort period. It, to her interest, mentioned the Order of the Phoenix in it. That piqued her interest and she purchased the book, walking out while reading it. Nice, it mentioned Sirius in there. Instead of labelling him as a murderer, it showed a happy smiling picture of him, describing his background and history. Well, Harry may like this, showing Sirius in a light that is mot ominous. Hermione shouldered the bulging bad and hefted it onto her shoulder, bringing it back to her room.

She then went to Number ninety three diagon alley. Weasley's wizard wheezes, now called, she noticed Weasley and Zonko's wizard wheezes. She looked distastefully at the bulging bad of dungbombs and other tools obviously designed for the aversion of school rules. Well, they must be doing well considering the long list of new branches on the door and the wooden paneling everywhere. As she stepped through the door, she turned into a large ungainly chicken, ducked two pieces of what looked like cow dung, then fell into a large vat of water, which she could have sworn wasn't there before.

"Welcome to Weasley and Zonko's wizard wheezes, you have just experienced the chickenizing door, portable lake, and dung bludgers. They can be a perfect guard system for your house, all for twenty five galleons" Fred, or was it George, shouted from the large counter bedecked with things which looked like fake buttocks.

"No, I don't think I will. I'd just have to confiscate them from myself if I did" Hermione answered to what looked like a vaguely human shape behind the pile of rear ends. 

"Hermione" George, she was pretty sure it was George, shouted, sweeping the pile of rear ends of his desk which promptly farted and rammed into the wall "long time no see, I guess Umbridge is gone now, we still send her free samples of our products by mail every week. So nice of us isn't it"

Fred came out of another room with a particularly large pat of dung on his head " George! I 'll get you for, oh, hi Hermione. Hey, I'll give you any product of ours for free if you promise to use it on that prat who calls himself our brother"

Hermione started edging nervously to the door as she saw the dung on his head start to twitch, "I think I'd better be leaving now". She ran headlong for the door as a pile of dung flew towards her. "We'll send you a chickenizing door and some dung through mail if we can perfect it" the twins shouted to her as the dung slammed into the glass.

She spent the next few days relaxing in the sun, working on her remaining pieces of holiday homework. It was surprisingly hard as pictures of her and Viktor on the railroad station had been in the papers and she was getting quite a bit of attention. That must have been what life was like for Harry, and she wasn't quite sure she liked it. She sighed, sipping on her butterbeer, free of course, one of the good things about being a celebrity. After about a week of long summer days, Harry and Ron finally arrived in Diagon alley. Now that they had come, she didn't really feel as if she really wanted to see them. First, Sirius had died, and she wasn't quite sure whether she wanted the awkward meeting. Also, she realized sheepishly, that, for once, she was probably more behind in her holiday homework than Harry was. As for Ron, the remarks in his letters and the recent newspaper article days enough. In the end, meeting Harry wasn't that bad. He seemed stiffer than usual and slightly pale, but, after a month with the Durseleys that was to be expected. Ron was a different matter. Their conversation was quite formal and awkward in the beginning, until the bickering and arguments began. God, Ron could be so annoying and prejudicial sometimes. He just assumed Viktor was the "enemy", a foreigner, to be admired, not trusted. It almost seemed as if he was jealous or something. Anyway he assumes too much just like he assumes all House elves want to be slaves.

First Ron casually remarked "How was your summer with Viktor".

A bit hotly, Hermione replied "Fine", then she looked away, suddenly finding her empty butterbeer cup extremely interesting.

Ron pressed further " Nice picture on the train"

"It was a good bye kiss"

"He mentions that you still have the scar from Dolohovs' curse"

Harry, attention suddenly piqued, jutted in worriedly "What you still have a scar, personally, I find that scars from curses are particularly pesky, are you okay?"

"I am fine, besides, who wouldn't be interested in that. We talked about it, he was also worried, so he saw my scar. No problem, just natural curiosity, besides its fading away now"

Ron then concluded triumphantly "But that scar is on your chest"

Then there was an awkward silence with Hermione finally breaking it "Anything to add? Good."

Ron spluttered looking at her, desperately trying to think of a snide remark. Luckily Hermione was spared Rons' ailing wit by another source of annoyance much wore then Ron. Malfoy. Malfoy sauntered in, face no longer as smug as it used to be but still bearing the same malicious look, his small eyes gleaming as they rove around for victims.

"Ah, Ronald Weasley, still in your unkempt excuse for robes. And here are you friends, Potter, still can't go anywhere without getting on the front page. Wait, my mistake, Mudblood here has you beat. She edged you out, even if it meant duping Krum." 

Ron leapt up livid with indignation, brandishing his wand. Hermione however kept her cool, remarking like she was just discussing the weather "Oh, Harry and I aren't the only ones on the Front Page, I remember your dad got on too. What was it again? Lifetime Azkaban as soon as they can find enough Dementers or was it Dementers kiss"

Scowling, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle and left.

The next few days passed quickly, Harrys' mood improved a lot now that he was back in friendly company. He was taking everything needed to become an auror, including, much to Rons' surprise, potions.

"You are going through another year with Snape" he had remarked with astonishment. Still Hermione was not sure if Snape would accept Harry. He had to accept her because of the OWL, but he only managed to get _Exceeds Expectations not the required __Outstanding. Ron had taken everything needed for an auror besides Potions. After another care-free week, it was finally time to leave for Kings Cross. Hermione saw a sign in Quality Quidditch Supplies as she prepared to leave, advertising the custom Firebolts._

_Firebolt_

_Firebolt Incorporated's' answer to the plea for a new version of the award winning Firebolt. Each Firebolt needs a hair from the designated flyer. It sports the same qualities as Firebolt but with improvements. First is the improved cushioning charm, It has an acceleration of 0 – 200 miles an hour in ten seconds and all the charms of the firebolt have been implemented but improved. Each broomstick is specially tailored for the user. It also sports custom insignias and carved names. All broomsticks are designed to survive dragon fire and made to be virtually unbreakable. Price varies depending on individual broomsticks. Estimated at roughly triple an ordinary Firebolt, more for custom carvings. Note, please make orders a month in advance._

"Wow" Hermione breathed "that must have been really, really expensive, God, I'd like to see Malfoys face when he sees this"

Well, can't let Ron see it yet. He'd probably die of jealousy. Then, Hermione ran into a seemingly  solid wall to gat onto the Hogwarts Express.


	4. Bon Voyage

Sorry, I haven't updated anything in quite a while, really busy for the past few months. Oh god has it been that long. Oh well, I've got a chapter up now. I will be putting cameos in the story to anyone who wants any. Actually they will be pretty big parts. The parts stand thus:

A new Professor at school (He/she will be premiering nest chapter at the feast so, if anyone wants it, ask soon)

A minister of something (Haven't quite finalized that yet

A death eater, who, at the end, turns good ( I know, sounds clichéd )

Anyone else may get major parts but most probably will be random people making appearances. If you want one, please give me the name you would like to be called especially if, as many frequenters of Harry Potter tend to have, you have a potter themed nickname. The point of cameos, in my opinion, would be kind of defeated if, everyone is called Harry or Hermione. I can't guarantee cameos if the volume of requests is too great.

 Oh and Raskolian. The scar will have nothing to do with story. Instead that otherwise useless piece of trivia is designed to refresh the memories of the readers in preparation for something that will happen later.

Well, I seem to be rambling on too much so here it is.

The sun gleamed off the metal of the compartment, glinting with a magical sheen. The massive wheels churning effortlessly with Antaean strength, moving endlessly to their destination, huge buffets of billowing smoke magically appearing from the outstretched funnel as the sweeping winds pushed it back, revealing, for a fleeting instant, the name of the gallant steed. Hogwarts Express.

Hermione flopped down beside Ron and Harry in the first compartment. She shifted her position slightly so her new broomstick was in a safe place. Ron was talking animatedly, as usual, about quidditch. Didn't guys think of anything except quidditch and famous quidditch stars, then her thoughts trailing to her broomstick and her summer, she hurriedly thought about something else. She gazed listlessly out of the window, watching the blur of the fields being whisked away by the magical train, the fields turn to roads, then to forests, mountains. The kaleidoscope of scenes was quite bewitching. She kept an ear open, listening to the conversation, not making any contribution despite Ron frequently wondering aloud why Viktor Krum hadn't been playing very frequently during the summer. Only when the conversation shifted towards the new firebolts did she make any contribution. Might as well show them I do know something other than fifteen uses for werewolf fur and might as well give another reason for Ron to make fun of her relationships. 

"I hear that it can go from 0 – 200 miles an hour in twenty seconds" began Ron excitedly.

Smiling slightly, Hermione corrected him "Actually it's ten seconds"

Ron, staring strangely at Hermione, enquired "How do you know"

Hermione, in answer, simply flipped the velvet coverings off a long black leather box, plainly displaying the golden lettering _Firebolt emblazoned upon it. As she touched the clasps, she released the twenty anti-theft charms and disabled a complement of the most difficult curses she knew, displaying, to the open air, the proud resinous wood of the _Firebolt. _She delicately lifted the wooden broomstick out of its space, as if it was a glass ornament and balanced it on her hand, watching the lights glimmer of the golden fittings._

"Wow" breathed Ron as he stared, mouth open, at the piece of polished wood. Then the door slid open soundlessly, and Malfoy sauntered in, snickering smugly. He seemed, on reflection, quite trivial without Crabbe and Goyle flanking him as their parents were stuck in the ministries makeshift prison.

"Well, Ron, maybe if you sell your house you may be able to buy a splinter. Perhaps a very small splinter" 

Ron turned red and snared back.

"Hey, at least my Dad isn't in prison"

Malfoy glowered at him, then left.

The rest of the voyage past with the normal summer peace, punctuated only by random entrances of Neville looking for his toad and the screeching of Pigwidgeon. On the horizon, past the smoke a shape began to appear. Hogwarts castle. Hermione gathered up her trunks, getting ready to depart when the train suddenly spun over and twisted out of control. After a brief period of falling the lights went out, stifling darkness punctuated only by screams.

That was pretty short. Anyway I hope I will get the next one up soon and I promise to make the next chapter at least marginally better.


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