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Meme Mafia - Town - (minus Mwil) wins

Matts4313

By Matts4313
in This aint sports talk!

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SwAg

SwAg

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1 hour ago, SwAg said:

Chapter 1 – Abel Pays a Visit

Privet Drive was a normal street in a normal neighborhood. It was lined with normal houses which were filled with ordinary people. They very much enjoyed being ordinary, which explained why they never had much use for Harry Potter. Harry Potter was a wizard, which in itself was enough of a reason for his relatives, the Dursleys, to hate him. However, it was much worse, for he was one of the most famous wizards to have ever lived. Even in the wizarding world, Harry was simply not normal.

One wouldn't know this by merely looking at him. Harry was a slim and rather unobtrusive-looking teenager with a shock of unruly black hair, small round glasses, and intense green eyes. The only thing that hinted that he was different was a small lightning bolt shaped scar high on his forehead.

At the moment, Harry was looking over the tops of his glasses and imagining that he was flying on his Firebolt, one of the most advanced racing brooms ever built. The summer so far had been hot and damp, and the car's air conditioner blew his wild hair back a bit, helping him dream that he was again soaring over the Quidditch Patch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he had spent the better part of the last five years. What he would give to be in the air once again! Headmaster Dumbledore had probably recovered his Firebolt, which had been confiscated by the hideous Delores Umbridge during the last school year, and he desperately wanted to be climbing and diving without having to think about what was going on far below.

He'd been shopping for some much-needed Muggle clothing, something that he'd finally been able to do after convincing his Uncle Vernon that looking like a prison escapee would eventually draw attention to them. He'd spent a significant amount of money, which he'd gotten by owling the Grangers and Dumbledore - He'd asked the Headmaster to transfer some of Harry's money from his family vault in Gringott's Bank to the Grangers, who had agreed to convert it to Muggle money and send it back to him, also by owl. Dumbledore had apparently decided that in the interest of expediency, he'd cut out the middleman, and sent Harry four fifty-pound notes with the comments that he hoped it would be enough, and Harry could arrange for reimbursement when he returned to Hogwarts. Harry could only sigh in exasperation. Dumbledore must have felt terrible. He knew the Headmaster was simply trying to help, but all the same he felt like a drug dealer. Up until then he'd never even seen a fifty quid note before. There was no way he could tell the Dursleys about it, and when Petunia asked how he could afford new clothing and glasses, Harry lied and told them that he borrowed the money from the Grangers and Weasleys and would pay them back while he was at school. She didn't want to know a thing about the Weasley family, of course, since they were wizards and witches, so she had no way of knowing they were next to impoverished, and probably wouldn't have been able to scrounge that much up in a year. Harry had mentioned at some point that Hermione Granger's parents were dentists, so it was believable enough, as far as his aunt was concerned. When she asked how he'd get that much money, Harry told her he could make gold from lead. This was actually true; Harry could have made gold from lead with the help of a philosopher's stone, something he'd even had in his possession at one time, even if he didn't know the particulars of the process. His aunt, a thin, horse-faced woman, had no reply, other than a snort of disgust, but Harry thought that just for a moment she might be seriously considering how she could get the gold without the unpleasantries of the magic.

In spite of the tension, Harry was on his best behavior almost all of the time. This was mostly because he felt responsible for the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, and had been very depressed and lethargic over the last three weeks. However, he'd also learned how important it was that he remained with the Dursleys because of the magic that protected him when he was in their house. On the days that he felt good enough to leave his room, he stayed well out of uncle Vernon's way, and Dudley seemed far too busy to bother with threats, instead focusing on the odd opportunity to torment Harry as the chances came. Harry knew that many of Dudley's old chums were heavily into drugs, but Dudley had discovered that it actually felt good to be in shape, and to Harry's dismay continued a rigorous training regimen that so far was producing a leaner, stronger, and more capable bully. On the flip side, his cousin was less physically violent after the "Mad-Eye Incident" at the end of the last school year, and more likely to simply lip off.

"What's that I heard last night?" Dudley had sneered just the other day, "more dreams about your girlfriend, Seeeerius?" Harry knew that he hadn't been dreaming of Sirius, or of anything else, for that matter, because the headmaster had somehow slipped a sizable bottle of dreamless sleep potion into his trunk, which Harry availed himself to every night. He didn't argue, however, and to his delight, that seemed to annoy Dudley more than nearly anything else he'd tried.

After what seemed like far too long, the car pulled into the driveway in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, and he and his aunt sat without speaking for several moments.

"We need to talk," said Petunia, without looking at him. Harry remained silent, staring intently at one of the joints on the garage door. The Dursleys and Harry had managed a slightly-less-than-civil form of mutual enmity, no doubt both aided and suppressed by Mad-Eye's very direct threat, and Harry didn't feel up to ending it with his legendary temper. He was too tired for a fight, anyway.

"I said –"

"I heard you. I just don't feel up to a row."

"That's convenient," his aunt snapped, "neither do I." They sat in silence for a bit longer. "Your uncle wants you out."

"No surprise there."

"I agree with Vernon."

"So do I," Harry shot back, "but that's not really an option, is it?"

"Those…people, those things, are they going to come after you again?"

"Yes. Eventually. Probably not here. I'm protected here."

"And what about us?"

"I don't know," Harry said, finally looking at his aunt, "it depends. If they've only been sent for me, I suppose they might leave you alone." Petunia noted that he didn't sound incredibly confident. "Have you talked to Dudley about last summer," Harry asked, "about the dementors?" His aunt's eyes narrowed.

"No! And you won't either! Why should you care?"

"Muggles can't see dementors. It sounded to me like Dudley could see something. Maybe he's magic." Harry actually relished the last bit, wondering what would be going through his aunt's head if she suspected in any way that her son, her precious Duddies, was even slightly magical. He wouldn't have dared do that to Uncle Vernon, who might actually try to strangle him at the insinuation of magic in the venerated Dursley line. Petunia simply ignored it, as she had been prone to, as of late.

"Your uncle is traveling to France on a business trip next week." This was no surprise to Harry. He'd known since just after school got out.

"I'm aware," he said.

"We're going with him." Now this was a surprise.

"We…who?" Harry asked.

"Certainly not you! You need to write your…friends, if that's what you call them, and find a place to stay. I don't really care where you go. If you can't find one willing to put up with you, then you'll go to Mrs. Figg's. You'll not be alone in our house."

"Right. Just as well, I suppose."

"I suppose. I have…some things of your mother's. I expect you'll be wanting them sometime." She saw the look on Harry's face and continued quickly. "Oh, I'm not forgiving you for the hell you've put us through; If Vernon finds them, we'll all be miserable. I'd just as soon not have to deal with more of your trouble."

Things of his mother's? Harry had never even suspected anything could have escaped the night she was murdered by the evil Lord Voldemort at their home in Godric's Hollow. All he'd ever received was the invisibility cloak, and that was something Dumbledore had in his possession since before they had been killed.

"But why…How?"

"I hated how Lily was so special. I hated how she could just wave and do what had taken me an entire day! I hated that James, the arrogant prat. I hated how he thought he was oh, so wonderful! But she was still my sister. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for him."

Petunia turned the car off, and reached behind her for her purse.

"This doesn't leave the car. I can still make you miserable, and I will if you insist on causing problems," she paused. "And your uncle will destroy them the moment he knows about them. If you manage to remain normal until we leave, I'll make sure you get them, as long as I never see them again. The minute you act up, out they go."

Harry nodded, and Petunia went to inside, leaving him to take care of his parcels on his own.

He owled his best friends Ron and Hermione as soon as his packages were put away; most of them went directly into his trunk. As an after thought, he sent a letter to Lupin explaining the he may need a place to stay, and if the Burrow wasn't available, perhaps visiting him may be an option, and apologized for the short notice. He debated whether or not to write Dumbledore, and decided that he would, but later, after he heard from Ron, Hermione, and Lupin. He had nine days to find a place to stay. If worse came to worse, he'd take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley and stay at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't want to leave from someplace he was relatively safe for someplace he wasn't, even if he hated it with his aunt and uncle, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

For the next few days, he was content to remain in his room, as he had done the entire summer so far, and read some of the things he had neglected over the last few summers; potions in particular. The news of some of his mother's effects had temporarily lightened his mood, and he waited in anxiety for an owl indicating where he was to spend the last half of his holiday. Vernon Dursley was working fairly long hours this summer in preparation for their three week trip, and Dudley continue to remain mercifully absent, and when he was around, mouthy but non-violent. Only once did he hit Harry, a stunning blow that shook Harry in his shoes, and right away he seemed to notice that he'd done something wrong. Dudley didn't apologize, of course, but he turned a nice shade of white, and Harry had the wind knocked out of him for long enough to avoid hexing his cousin into oblivion.

His aunt had become addicted to soaps, and watched at least four every day, sometimes while taking notes in an attempt to discover some of their secrets before the tabloids. This naturally left her far to busy for anything more than the cursory snap, so things were looking slightly better for Harry than they had in a while. For now, he was thankful for the uneventful summer.

Three nights after his shopping trip, something brushed against Harry's face in the middle of the night. He waved at it, mumbling objections to consciousness in his sleep. Whatever was bothering him was persistent, and Harry swatted slightly harder. His fingers grasped at something feathery, and he felt a burning sensation and nearly leaped from his bed. Hedwig fluttered backwards, alighting clumsily upon Harry's dresser and hooting. Harry could feel blood run down his neck and soak the top of his enormous t-shirt; a Dudley cast-off. Had Hedwig really bitten him?

"What's wrong with you?" he whispered, and then stopped. He looked at the ticking alarm-clock, which read three o'clock in the dim light filtering in from the streetlights outside. Straining, Harry could hear noises coming from downstairs.

"Boy!" came Uncle Vernon's voice from outside his door. Previous summers had seen locks installed, but the Dursleys no longer used them for two reasons: The first was they were mildly afraid of Mad-Eye and the other "freaks," whether Uncle Vernon admitted it or not. Harry felt that his uncle had a good reason to be afraid. Not that Harry had ever asked to be treated as shoddily as he had, and not that they didn't deserve what they'd gotten, but the Dursleys had certainly been on the receiving end of some interesting magical happenstance. The second reason was that after Harry's "escape" two summers back, Vernon decided that he'd rather have swift access to the room, should the need arise.

Harry's door swung open and his uncle peered in. Harry heard another noise from downstairs.

"More of your freak friends, boy?"

"No sir," said Harry, certain that the Order would have arranged a suitable distraction and Hedwig wouldn't have nipped him if she thought he was safe.

"Stay here. I'll have no funny business out of you. Keep your…that thing put away! I'll not have another mess like you caused last summer!" Harry nodded and watched his uncle move slowly down the stairs. He desperately wanted to be armed, but tried to convince himself that because of the magical protections on the house, more than likely, it was a midnight refrigerator raid by Dudley, rather than an attack on him. It wasn't working exceptionally well, and after a moment, Harry tucked his wand into his waistband. A second later he heard a grunt of surprise, and glanced out the door just in time to see his Uncle's shadow upon the wall, tumbling down the stairs. There was another figure flying with him, and from the angles of his body, it appeared that uncle Vernon had grabbed him on the way down.

As Harry watched, two more shadows crept stealthily up the stairs. The one in front had what appeared to be a cricket bat, and the one behind, a short kitchen knife. Uncle Vernon had dragged one down the stairs with him, and neither had attempted to come back up. Harry looked to his right, towards his aunt's and uncle's room. Petunia was standing just outside the door with something in her hand…something long, thin, and distinctly wand-like.

"What do I say?" shrieked Petunia, nearly hysterical. Harry had to think for a moment to understand that she was trying to cast a spell.

"You can't use that!"

"What do I say? Tell me!"

"Point it at them. Say stupefy. It'll knock them out." Harry knew nothing would happen, but it would keep Petunia back from the men and might confuse them.

"Stupefy," she mumbled.

"You have to mean it!" Harry hissed, watching her shaking hand. "Concentrate on the tip of the wand…shore it up." She took another deep breath and shouted.

"STUPEFY!"

Still, nothing happened, but the dark figures in the hallway did pause right before Dudley's door.

"Mine's bigger than yours, mum," the one with the bat said, and Harry could actually hear him sneer behind his ski-mask. Dudley of course chose this moment to barge into the hall, sputtering curses and questions.

Had he looked to his right when he charged through the door, he'd have likely been knocked out cold or knifed as he gawked at his mother holding a wand and attempting to do magic. Instead, he looked left, probably expecting Harry to be the source of the commotion.

He was fast; Harry had to give him that. With a sweeping right hook, Dudley knocked the first intruder directly into his friend, to be impaled on the knife. The now-stabbed man in black dropped his cricket bat directly onto his foot, which Dudley snagged on the bounce. The hallway was not large, but Dudley was, and the intruders stood absolutely no chance of getting past him. He brought the bat up in an arc to the second intruder's knee, and then tossed it behind him, preferring to do his work with what he knew best. Three seconds and four punches later, both intruders were laying on the floor, one bleeding and both unconscious.

"Vernon? Vernon!"

Harry felt a tug at the back of his trousers, and his shirt was briefly lifted and dropped, and then his aunt shoved him roughly out of the way as she fled down the stairs, shouting her husband's name. Vernon's voice echoed weakly back up the stairs. He could feel something pressing against the small of his back, and realized that Petunia had tucked the wand in and hidden it. She didn't have to warn him again to keep his mouth shut; Harry knew that the first words out of his uncle's mouth would likely be accusations. Showing up waving a wand around (even worse, one his uncle may recognize as different) would probably be one of the poorer decisions he could make.

Dudley was more interested in the fools bleeding on his floor, looking curiously at one, as if he knew him. Harry stood behind him as his cousin pulled the stocking off the head of the home invader who hadn't been knifed. The crook awoke to the two boys leaning over him. Harry recognized him as Abel Greene, a one-time member of Dudley's gang. He was one of the first to get into drugs, and Harry hadn't seen him for a long time.

"Abel," Dudley spat, "what are you playing at?"

"Don't hurt us D! Some guy…he made us!"

"Made you do what?"

"Made us break in. He said he wanted..." He trailed off, looking at Harry.

"And?" Dudley pressed. He apparently knew Abel too well to believe this was the only reason his former gang member was here.

"And that's all, I swear!" Harry knelt over Abel, placing his knee squarely on the fallen boy's trousers. Abel's eyes bulged and he sucked a breath sharply. Harry noticed he was missing a tooth or two, and he was pretty sure Dudley didn't do it.

"And skag. He's gonna set us up with a load of skag."

"Who was he?" Dudley demanded. Abel simply shook his head.

"What did he look like?" Harry asked, shifting his leg slightly. "You'd better tell us. You're in bad enough shape as it is."

"Short," he squeaked. "Short! Old. Blond. Fat! I don't know…he…he had a glove on one hand. Dressed like a nutter but…he had the stuff." Dudley leaned so close that Harry was surprised that he could stand the heroin addict's rotten breath.

"Who are the other two?"

"You don't know them…just guys from about." Dudley yanked the stuck man's mask up and glared at him. Convinced, he turned back to Abel.

"Do they know what you're on about?"

"No…they're just here to help er…"

"To help nick things?"

"Yeah," Abel replied, cringing as Harry shifted again.

"When the men come to round you up, you don't know me. Got it? You let on anything else and I'll make sure you never talk again…We'll make sure." Dudley did a sort of backwards nod, indicating Harry. "He's criminally insane."

"Yes!" Abel squealed, writhing in pain. "Yes! I mean no! I don't know you! Don't kill me!""

"You're not worth killing," Harry said, "they'd just give me more time." Dudley grabbed a handful of Abel's hair.

"But you are worth…" He pulled Abel's head up and slammed it twice against the floor and then seized the cricket bat once again and leaned against it as he rose. He saw the outline of the wand in Harry's waistband and then looked towards the stairs. Petunia's voice was drifting up, along with that of a very groggy-sounding Vernon. Dudley looked once again at Harry.

"Right then. That goes for you too. We don't know him."

"And you won't say anything about them looking for me?"

"I'm going to France in a week. I'm not about to let you spoil it."

"Right," Harry said, happy for once that Dudley was profoundly selfish, "that was a nice job."

"Well," Dudley yawned, "you've got your stick," he nodded at the bat, "and I've got mine."

Harry straightened up as Uncle Vernon came staggering up the stairs, leaning heavily on his wife.

"…Drug addicts and delinquents! I don't know what this world is coming to!" He leered at Harry. "Well, boy, it looks like you didn't get yourself killed. There's always next time, hey?" Vernon paused and looked at the bodies on the ground. "Are they dead?"

"No," Harry said, "I don't think so." Dudley had flipped the one they didn't know on his face, and the tiny knife protruded from low in his back. Harry didn't think the wound would be fatal if they got medical help sometime soon. Knowing his uncle Vernon as well as he did, he wouldn't bet on that happening. As the Dursleys surveyed the damage, Harry mentally prepared his letter to Dumbledore. He would have to send Hedwig as soon as he could get alone.

"Well that's a pity." Vernon sneered and turned to his son. "Looks like you rang them up, eh son? Give them the old D-bomb, then, did you?" Dudley beamed proudly and his uncle went on. "I got one myself," he flexed, and it was an oddly macabre sight. The blood running down his uncle's head didn't do anything to make it less so. Vernon glared at Harry.

"Get back in your room boy, and when the authorities come, you slept through the whole thing. And what happened to your ear?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, before he remembered that he was bleeding. He couldn't tell uncle Vernon that Hedwig did it, so he simply shrugged. "I don't know, really."

"One of them must have done it," Petunia supplied, "you'd better clean it out before you go to bed; no telling where that knife has been." Perhaps spurred on by the look from Vernon, she added "no use us being called on our holiday on his account." Harry's uncle nodded and Petunia sped off, presumably to fetch antiseptics. She returned a moment later with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and some cotton swabs.

Later, after the letter to Headmaster Dumbledore had been written, Harry lay in his bed nursing his smarting ear and looking at Hedwig's empty cage. His wand was under his pillow, and he could still feel his heart surging with adrenaline. As his eyes grew heavier and heavier, he felt that Petunia must have been somewhat satisfied with his performance that night. He knew that somewhere in the medicine chest, they had a bottle of Iodine.

The next day, Harry received four owls, a phone call, and a visit from the police. The police were probably the easiest to deal with, because Vernon had already told them that Harry slept through the night before. Harry was certain that Vernon still thought him at least partially responsible, even though the police sergeant had mentioned Abel's considerable criminal sheet. To everyone involved, it looked as though the three youths were simply hitting homes to support an expensive drug habit. Harry had no problems whatsoever with letting Dudley get all the credit for foiling the break-in, he just wanted out of Privet Drive, and anything that would expedite that process was fine with him.

"Please, sir, may I be excused?"

"I see no reason to keep you," the sergeant said, looking at Vernon.

"Go on then, boy, and finish packing." That was about as civil as his uncle ever got, and it was his way of telling Harry that they were still going, and that he was still going, one way or another.

The first letter was waiting on his desk when he returned to his room. It was from Ron, and it read:

Dear Harry,

I'd love for you to come, but Mum says it's still not safe. She said that you'd be safer at Hogwarts or with Lupin. Don't get me wrong, I've tried to convince her, but she'll have none of it. She owled Lupin and Dumbledore, and you should hear from them by the time you get this. Honestly, she worries too much. Like You-Know-Who would ever come look for you here.

I guess it would be bad for us if he did, though, so you can't blame her.

Speaking of Y-K-W, the Prophet hasn't printed anything about him for at least a week. Mum and the others are starting to wonder if something is up. Dean Thomas says some people are even more afraid of him now, after he's "come back from the dead". Ginny could do worse, but honestly sometimes Dean drives me nuts. If I were allowed to do magic, he'd have about six eyes and ten ears by now.

Are you ready for Quidditch? I've been flying loads, and I think we'll be even tougher this year, if they let you back in. Ginny is ready to give chaser a go, since we're losing Johnson and Spinnet. Fred and George promised they'd buy her a Cleansweep 11 like mine if she stays in. Who do you think will be captain this year? Katie Bell and you are both senior players, but Ginny said she'd mentioned in a letter that with her N.E.W.T.s, she'd rather play than captain. Do you have the time? I don't think I do. Do you think we can talk Ginny into it?

Well, nothing has changed since last week, so I'll talk to you later! Let me know as soon as you know where you're staying, because I'm certain mum will allow me to visit you then. Ginny says hello, and that she'll see you when I do.

Ron

Harry wrote wrong back a very short note saying that he understood Mrs. Weasley's concern, that he'd already caused quite enough damage as it was, and that he would let them know as soon as he knew where he was going. As he was finishing that up, the second letter arrived. This was one from Dumbledore.

Dear Harry,

Imagine my concern when I read your letter from last night! It would seem that our mutual adversary has finally decided to try something new. This is something I have long hoped against and prepared for. We have other accommodations for you. We really must talk about this more, but we cannot do so via Owl. Every letter of this nature we send puts our noble feathered friends, and thus our communications at risk.

I have found something of yours that you left behind last year. I'll see to returning in a few weeks. Until then I have included several chocolate frogs, which I know you enjoy, and I suggest you start collecting the cards. I'm on one, you know! It does gratify the soul to know I come with delicious chocolate!

A.D.

Harry collected the handful of chocolate frogs and thought about the letter. The old man was crafty – very crafty, and after their shouting match (or more accurately, Harry's shouting and breaking things and Dumbledore's string of admissions and apologies) Harry expected a good deal more information forthcoming from the headmaster. He knew some of it was here, but he wasn't sure where. One thing was for certain, Harry would be someplace near to Dumbledore, and that meant either Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts. He decided to think on it, and folded the letters together, placing them in a pocket on the lid of his trunk.

He packed his things entirely, putting everything he needed into his chest and closing it up good and tight. From now until he left, he'd wear clothes he could leave here, so he could go at a moment's notice. Hedwig's cage and his trunk, along with a book and his mother's wand, were the only things he needed to worry about grabbing now. After he was done packing, he sat back at his desk with Staying Alive: Practical Defense Methods and Measures, by B.G. Aegis, which he had mail-ordered last year, after he had seen it in the room of requirement, and read for a bit. Much of the information was spell-centric, and Harry couldn't practice it properly until he was allowed to do magic again, but much of it was spell theory that connected various aspects of defense.

Harry had discovered that this summer, it was easier to concentrate on the things like theory behind how all the magic worked. He didn't look forward to all of the classes that were likely to concentrate on the boring end of magic, but he supposed he was in a fairly good position to handle them. After five or so incredibly dense pages, he dropped the book into the lid-pouch of the trunk and sat at the desk, looking at his mother's wand. He didn't dare do much more than touch it, as an inadvertent magical shower of sparks could get him expelled, but it was amazing to touch something she had held, something she had used. The wood was much lighter than his, almost a blonde color, and it was a bit shorter than his as well. It seemed to be in reasonably good shape, even after years of disuse, and Harry intended to polish it properly once he could get someplace where he wouldn't get expelled for letting loose a stream of butterflies, or breaking something with an errant bolt of energy. He absentmindedly opened one of his chocolate frogs, and took a bite out of both back legs before it could hop away.

"I daresay that frog has been sitting on me for some time now, and I have a powerful craving for chocolate." A tiny voice squeaked up from the card, which Harry hadn't even looked at yet. "Is that…your mother's wand?"

Harry looked down at a tiny Dumbledore; he'd never known chocolate frog cards to talk before. Finally, he thought of something to say.

"Er…yes?"

"Amazing. I was not aware it still existed. Do be careful with it, until you get to us, won't you?"

"Certainly," Harry agreed. "I didn't know chocolate frog cards could talk."

"Normally, they can't, but our fine Masters Weasley are ingenious indeed. It's a pity they never applied their talents to their official studies. But at least they're happy, and we needed them, in their way." Harry said nothing as he looked down at the miniature Albus Dumbledore.

"I only have a few moments," the headmaster said, "are you certain it was Pettigrew who arranged the attack?"

"Yes. Greene said it was a short, balding man with a glove on one hand."

"That bears watching, but I shouldn't think they'd try that again for a bit. Even muggles like the Dursleys are too keen to not notice, and Voldemort really does hate muggles, even to the point of disregarding their usefulness to him. I would venture a guess that the latest attempt upon your life and limb were not directly orchestrated through him. I've arranged for you to travel to Grimmauld Place in two days. Hogwarts is normally the safer of the two, but there will be more members of the Order in London."

"Who will come get me? How will I get there?"

"Professor Lupin, Arthur and Bill Weasley, and one other will meet you the day after tomorrow, 10 o'clock in the morning, at your front door, unless you contact me and we arrange otherwise. Mad-Eye wanted to come, but he's rather more conspicuous, I'm afraid. Perhaps Miss Tonks will accompany them." Dumbledore paused, pensively. "Would I perchance be able to try a bit of chocolate?"

Harry broke a chunk off the frog and laid it on the card.

"Alas!" the little Dumbledore mourned, "I shall have to make do with the thought of it. Regardless, my time is nearly up. You may feel free to throw me away when I stop talking; I won't hold it against you. You have a few more cards, and they should be used, should you need to contact me before we can meet in person. They're activated when you open the package and are good for oh, two minutes?"

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued, though he did appear to be fading.

"It is good to see you well Harry. I'll talk to you in person in about a week." With that the Dumbledore card stopped talking and moving completely. He tossed it in the trash bin under his desk and piled the rest of the chocolate frogs into a paper bag, which he folded and placed under the table on the side of his bed away from the door. He kept one in his shirt pocket – the chocolate seemed impervious to melting anyway.

Just then, the third owl of the day dropped off a letter. It looked hungrily at the piece of frog on Harry's desk.

"I didn't know owls could have chocolate," Harry said, "are you sure it's okay?" The owl actually hopped up and down in its excitement, which Harry took as a yes.

"Well, if you're certain! You'd better drink though, it will make you thirsty." The owl obligingly flapped in and drained roughly half of Hedwig's water, and then hopped onto the desk and waited somewhat less than patiently. At least it had manners. Harry handed over the chocolate, which the bird greedily devoured, and then turned with a final hoot and lunged out the window.

A moment later, someone knocked on his door. The Dursleys had developed a nasty habit of simply knocking and walking in (or even skipping the knock) up until a month ago, when his aunt walked in on Harry after he'd gotten out of the shower. Neither of them mentioned it ever again, but the Dursleys now paused for a moment after a knock to get an acknowledgment that Harry was decent.

"Yes?" Harry called. The door opened and Petunia came in. She immediately noticed how clean the room was.

"So some of them have agreed to take you then?"

"Yes."

"When do you go?"

"The day after tomorrow, ten o'clock. They're people you've actually met…the Weasleys and…"

"Not the one with the…" she pointed to her eye.

"No, he doesn't blend in well."

"They won't show up…on brooms or something, will they?"

"No," Harry said, wanting to laugh but afraid to make his aunt mad when she was just about to hand off more of his mother's things, "they try to remain inconspicuous."

"It's a pity they aren't a little better at it," Petunia said, looking at the empty owl cage by his window.

"Yes," Harry agreed, quite honestly, "it is."

"I see you're packed then."

"Yeah."

"I'll be back in a moment. Don't go anywhere," she added, as if Harry was suddenly going to leap from the window and disappear. Well, in her defense, that had happened before, more or less. She returned a minute later with a wrinkled brown paper bag.

"Remember, not a word! And put them away right now, if we see them…" She didn't need to finish. "That goes for that too." Petunia pointed at Lily Potter's wand, and Harry carefully wrapped it in a bit of parchment, appeasing her for the moment. Harry desperately wanted to see what was there, but he believed his aunt's threats, and he would be able to look at them as soon as she left. Petunia glanced at the clock and hurried out with no further words. Harry glanced in the bag, which contained a single small box and a pair of black gloves. He cracked the box open far enough see a small pendant on a chain. Harry let the box slip shut. The gloves felt soft and very warm; but he didn't dare put them on, because he didn't know what they did, so instead he put them and the pendant back in the bag and tucked the bag into his chest.

His curiosity momentarily sated, he turned back to the letter on his desk, which was from Remus Lupin.

Dear Harry,

The Headmaster as assured us that he contacted you; and so I'm assuming you'll know when we're arriving. If you haven't figured out, maybe you should ask him, the very next time you see him. We have much to talk about, but I think you know it's not particularly safe to do too much of that here. Make sure your relatives know that you're leaving, as we wouldn't want them to worry about you.

That's a joke!

I've been working on your present, since your birthday is coming up, and I'm pretty sure that you'll like it. It's something that took a long time to get right, and I'm sure if anyone can appreciate it it's you (and possibly Hermione). Speaking of Hermione, she wanted me to tell you that she couldn't owl you back, but that she's looking forward to seeing you. We all are. Until later,

Remus

The very next time you see him. Harry appreciated the hint. If this had been one of his worse days, he may not have even bothered with the chocolate frogs, but he thought that line would have said something to him in any mood. He was looking forward to seeing Hermione too. Summers were very busy for her, and this one seemed even more so than usual. She'd only had a half dozen chances to write him, and he was anxious to see her as well. There was a girl down the street who Harry had never talked too, who probably didn't even know he existed, who strongly resembled Hermione from a distance. Sometimes he would sit at his desk and watch her when she was outside, imagining that she was Hermione, and what it would be like if he could just go speak to her.

He never had, but he'd dreamt about it. As he pondered this, she actually came out of her house. Harry leaned back and watched the girl-who-was-not-Hermione as she took trash out of and vacuumed one of the cars in their driveway. She took quite a while, and he actually fell asleep before she had finished.

She was once again featured in his dreams.

When Harry awoke, Hedwig was back in her cage and the fourth letter of the day was on his desk in front of him.

Dear Harry,

Headmaster Dumbledore has told us about your incident, and assured me that you've discussed our arrangements as of this morning. Please be sure to be completely prepared, as you will be without anything you might forget. We'll talk soon.

Arthur

Harry was quite pleased that he would be out in two days. This summer had been, on the whole, one of the more tolerable that he could remember, but he could imagine nothing that would make him want to stay. For one, he wasn't particularly enthused about being around for the next attack. As much as Harry disliked the Dursleys, his presence in their home was now a danger to them as well, and the next time Wormtail may not pick such incompetent louts. As far as Harry was concerned, the Dursleys deserved some misery, but it wouldn't come because of him.

Harry checked his room at least a dozen times over the next three hours, looking over and over again for things that he didn't want to leave behind. He checked in all of his hiding spaces; under the floorboards, behind the wardrobe, and one of his new ones, behind the headboard of his bed. He checked the pockets of his clothes, even the ones he hadn't worn lately, which netted him a couple quid and some Muggle candy. Mostly, he did it for something to do, because of course after the first go around, each time he checked them he found nothing. At a quarter past eight that night, his uncle Vernon shouted up the stairs.

"Boy, come down here!" Harry obediently hurried. His uncle sounded mad, which was nothing new, and he was still trying to keep things moving as smoothly as possible.

"Your friend wants a word with you. Maybe you should mention that we don't allow normal people to call us in the middle of the night, let alone those freaks you run with."

"I'll make a note of it," Harry said, taking the cordless phone and starting back up the stairs.

"Hello?"

"Harry!" Hermione sounded quite happy – even breathless.

"Hello Hermione. How's the holiday going?"

"It's fantastic, I've seen loads of new art, and I've even had a chance to meet with some old friends!"

"Old friends?" Harry asked. He was certain that there were friends of their family, but she'd been such a terror their first year that he had to wonder how many 'old friends' she could have. Then he immediately felt guilty for having such a thought.

"Oh, yes," she said knowingly, "you'll see!"

"I'll see? What are you getting at?"

"Are you ready for your birthday?" she asked.

"My…My birthday is a month away, Hermione. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm just…excited!"

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice echoed through the house.

"Did you get my owl?" Harry asked.

"Was that your uncle? He sounded a bit…dreadful when he answered," Hermione said. "And I meant to write you back, but then I got a letter from Professor Dumbledore that said to wait and I'd see you later. I asked Professor Lupin to tell you."

"He did," Harry said, "I'm going to be leaving the day after tomorrow."

"Oh. I'll see you sooner than you think, then," she replied. Harry hadn't expected this conversation to go so awkwardly. It was much easier to write letters to Hermione; talking to her made it hard for him to think. For some reason, all of the ideas that flowed so freely when he was writing dried up when he heard her voice. He realized that they had both been silent for some time. Hermione broke the silence.

"So, anything new?"

"Ah…" Harry decided not to tell her about Abel and Wormtail. He could tell her at Grimmauld Place. "I've gotten some things of my mother's; her wand and things."

"Wow! I didn't know there were things left."

"Boy!" Vernon roared. "What could possibly be talking about for this long?" Harry could tell by Hermione's pause that she heard it clearly.

"Yeah. Well then, I guess I'll see you later."

"Oh yes!" Hermione exclaimed, "I'll be there for your birthday!"

"BOY!"

"You'd better go," Hermione said, "I'll see you soon."

"Right then. Er…Good bye then?"

"Good bye, Harry."

For the second time in a day, Harry dreamt about Hermione.

The next day and a half couldn't pass fast enough. Harry stayed in his room nearly the entire time, only coming out when his Aunt Petunia yelled for him to come eat. He wasn't really hungry, and the best he managed was to stuff some down and push the rest around lamely, trying to make it seem as though he'd eaten more. Vernon and Dudley did their best to ignore him, and his final days at Privet drive were some of the calmest Harry could remember. It was odd, he didn't expect things to be so trouble-free when someone had just broken into their house and when Harry himself had so many overwhelming things to think about, but sometimes it seemed as if he was stepping outside his mind and he was on the outside looking in.

"Everything is cyclical," Professor Lupin had told Harry the last time he saw him, "the sun, the moon, and even human nature, and believe me, I know something about cycles. Things repeat themselves, over and over, and that's how it will be for you. I want you to pay special attention to your feelings, because they'll come in cycles, too."

He didn't understand what his friend was talking about at the time; even if he wanted to think it over, he hadn't the ability. Now he was just beginning to grasp what Professor Lupin had meant, and he knew that he could be one of the cycles Lupin had warned him about. In this comparatively more rational time, Harry realized that there would again be a chance for him to think about Sirius and his part in his Godfather's death. At times, he had dreams that Sirius wasn't really dead, that somewhere, somehow they'd meet again. Sometimes he was furious with himself for allowing it to happen. Mostly, though, he was slowly beginning to accept that it had happened, and accept that more factors than his gullibility were involved. He was still angry with Dumbledore, and was even more so when he understood that what the old man had reasoned out all made sense, when you thought about it.

For now he was relieved to think of something besides Sirius, Voldemort, and the prophecy.

The first day of July was looking to be hot and nasty, and Harry was wearing a new pair of shorts that reminded him how skinny and pale his legs were. He'd never had much of an eye for style, or his image, but he felt that it would be nice if he were to put on some muscle, and tan up a little. He did little else but watch the clock the whole morning, although it was a long one since he awoke at six and was to excited to go back to sleep. Vernon was at work, and Dudley, the health club. Aunt Petunia's soaps didn't start for another hour or so, and there was little to do but sit and stare aimlessly. He'd moved his trunk downstairs, and Petunia allowed him to bring Hedwig's cage down as well. He went through the room one final time, which he knew was an exercise in futility, but it ate up another half hour. By nine o'clock, Harry had become totally bored; enough so that he went through his bundle of letters in the trunk and dug out his O.W.L. results and Professor McGonagall's letter. He'd never totally read them beyond glancing at his scores and reading far enough into the letter to discover that there was a new class being offered to certain sixth and seventh year students, including him. Petunia glanced at him while he read.

"What are those, then?"

"My test scores," Harry said.

"And?" It sounded to Harry like she asked more out of boredom than concern, but he'd made it this far being civil, and it had become a certain point of pride for him to make it out of the house without snapping at her for almost an entire week.

"Er…well three O's, three Es, and three A's."

"I thought you were supposed to be this great..." She couldn't bring herself to say 'wizard'. Harry didn't say anything, because he couldn't think of anything nice. Something rude about Dudley occurred to him, but he wisely held his tongue. His aunt looked pleased with herself, and left for the kitchen.

And then came the doorbell. Harry was up and at the door so fast that he even surprised himself, and threw open the door to a startled-looking aunt Petunia. He looked at her uncertainly; it looked like aunt Petunia, except things were slightly off, as if her face had been broken into very small pieces, and then put back together skillfully.

"Hello, Tonks," Harry said. "Enjoying the trip?"

"Smashing," she replied, "mind if I come in?"

"Not at all," he said, turning to go back inside, "but maybe you should change into something more comfortable and less like Aunt…" He paused as he looked over his shoulder to see that she'd reverted to her normal face, except her hair was a shiny black.

"Why, Harry, are you coming on to me?"

Harry smiled and blushed, and Lupin and Bill Weasley appeared in the doorway. They were dressed in a reasonable imitation of Muggles, except for Bill's dragon-skin boots and Lupin's jacket. The jacket looked normal enough, but wearing one in July was a trick only a wizard or a delinquent would pull.

"Right then," Harry said. "Well, all my stuff is here and packed."

"Are those your test scores?" Lupin asked, momentarily distracted. Harry nodded and Lupin grabbed them, folding them and putting them in his jacket pocket. Petunia chose this moment to enter the room. Bill offered her his hand, which she ignored completely, leaving him blushing akwardly.

"Mrs. Dursley, pleased to meet you." Remus Lupin said. Petunia managed a nod with her lips crushed into a tight line of disapproval, and Lupin nodded back. Tonks favored her with a forced smile.

"Alright Harry," said Bill, recovering, "let's see what we can do about getting you out of her way."

Between the three of them, they got all of his possessions to the car in one trip, and his aunt shut the door so fast it almost hit Tonks, who was carrying Hedwig's cage. Bill and Lupin had the trunk, and Harry had his cauldron filled with supplies that he wanted out of or didn't have room for in his chest. He'd tucked the whole lot in a detergent box in case anyone was watching them leave. The car, an aging BMW, had no enlargement charms cast on it and they struggled to get everything but the owl into the boot. Hedwig glared at Harry as if she suspected he'd try to force her in as well.

"Not you," he said, "I'd never do that to you!"

Harry, Tonks, and Bill squeezed into the back, and Lupin took the front. Arthur Weasley was behind the wheel; apparently he was familiar with automobiles. As they pulled away from the curb the whole car breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"You live there?" Tonks asked, only half-kidding.

"Yeah," said Harry, "I try."

"Any mental problems you could ever have, explained away in a minute," Bill added with a smirk on his face. Lupin managed a chuckle.

"I've been in there once," Arthur said, "why do you think I stayed in the car?" Lupin was looking at Harry's test scores.

"What's this…A's? Harry, I'm surprised at you. I figured better."

"That Astronomy exam was a joke," Bill said in Harry's defense. "Ron told me all about it."

"You've gotten an 'E' in Potions. You need an Outstanding to be in Professor Snape's N.E.W.T. level classes."

"I know," Harry said, "I'm going to have to talk to Professor McGonagall. She's been advising me."

"What happened in Divination and History of Magic?"

"I had…a bad examination in History. Divination is, well…er…"

"Pointless," Tonks said, "and you don't need it or Astronomy to be an Auror."

"Well," Lupin added, "provided you really concentrate on potions, you should be okay - If Professor Snape will even let you in." It quickly became obvious to Harry that they were going to drive the whole way to London, so he settled back into his seat. Hedwig's cage was jammed between the front seats, and mercifully the car had air conditioning that worked reasonably well. Tonks yawned widely, and in a matter of minutes was asleep. Halfway through the trip, she slumped against Harry. He was acutely aware of it the whole way – how she smelled, how she felt, her slow, steady breathing. By the time they got to London, Harry felt very warm, even in spite of the air conditioning and his shorts and t-shirt.

Why aren’t more people addressing this?

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