Chapter 1

Harry Potter could honestly say that this summer had been by far the best one he had in his life so far. His relatives had left him mostly alone bar giving him the list chores he had to do that day, which wasn't as bad as it could have been. So he had to mow the lawn regularly and keep the weeds away from Aunt Petunia's priced flowers, but otherwise he was left alone. No cooking of any kind or cleaning the house.

And nothing was stopping Harry from sending letters to his friends now that he had convinced Uncle Vernon that keeping his owl, Hedwig locked up in her cage was the reason that she was making so much noise.

Massive improvement from the previous summer when he was locked up in his room after the 'Pudding Incident', as Harry called it when a house elf named Dobby had come and dropped the dessert on the floor in order to keep Harry out of Hogwarts. That hadn't been a very enjoyable summer even before that. And before that…

Harry didn't want to even think it. Granted, it wasn't as terrible as it could have been, but it was horrible enough for a child under the age of ten to experience. Because really, who makes a child live in a cupboard under the stairs for almost ten years, telling him it is because that is all a freak like him deserves to have and that he should be happy he even got that much. Answer? Harry's aunt and uncle, that's who.

Yes, Harry knew that he had been abused as a child. Never in the way of beating him senseless, although Uncle Vernon had seemed to think about it more than once, but abused nevertheless. Thankfully, the Dursley's obsession of being a normal family kept them from doing anything worse than a whack on Harry's back if he did something that they perceived to be wrong or unnatural and no food for a day.

Thankfully that seemed to have toned down since Harry became aware of the magical world. Yes, last summer had been rough, but Harry expected that the way he had escaped from his relative's house back then was the reason that his living condition were much better this summer than last. Because if you have friends that are willing to come and rescue you with a flying Ford Anglia of all things, who knew what other kind of madness they could unleash on the Dursleys.

"What would the neighbours think of us if they heard about it?" Harry could hear his aunt saying.

All in all, this summer had been a good one so far and as Harry finished working on his homework for the night, he hoped that the rest of the summer wouldn't suddenly take a turn for the worse.

And as it happened, it did.

"I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten," was the worst possible thing Uncle Vernon could have said on the morning of Harry's birthday. Way to bring Harry's hopes of a normal birthday in ruins.

The day had begun so well. Unlike last year, Harry had gotten presents from his friends. The Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him would be excellent in making sure that his Nimbus 2000 would stay in a tip top condition. As for the Pocket Sneakoscope that Ron had given him? Well, maybe it didn't serve any immediate, useful, purpose but it was the thought that counted. Same could be said about the book that Hagrid had given him, although that book was the assigned textbook for the Care of the Magical Creatures, one of the two electives that he had chosen for his third year of schooling. But still, a book that bites?

Even the news that some mass murderer named Sirius Black had escaped from prison couldn't bring Harry's mood down. It wasn't like he should be worrying about some muggle escaping from muggle prison when Harry spent ten months of his year living in a magical castle up in Scotland.

But back to Aunt Marge.

"Aunt Marge?" Harry blurted out. "Sh-She's not coming here, is she?"

Of all the things that could possibly happen, it had to be Aunt Marge visiting. If the verbal abuse that Harry had gotten from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon was bad, Aunt Marge was ten times worse.

Nothing that Aunt Marge ever said about Harry was polite. Every single problem that Harry had in Aunt Marge's eyes was mentioned at least a couple times a day and always in the range of Harry's hearing a if to make sure that Harry heard every single one of them. At least Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon could hold a normal conversation with him without insulting Harry, rare as that might have been.

And when Aunt Marge had had a little too much of wine? Well, whatever filter that she had would came of and she would usually draw comparison between Harry and a badly bred dog and what she would do to get rid of them. Drowning seemed to be her favourite method of disposal.

She would of course have her favourite bulldog Ripper with her as well. Harry didn't like the dog and the dog didn't like him, mainly because Harry had once stepped on Ripper's tail and been chased to a tree afterwards. Aunt Marge hadn't called Ripper away from Harry until midnight.

And now she was coming here? This was quickly shaping up to be the worst birthday Harry had ever had.

"Marge will be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject," he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry, "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to me."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any, any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What?" Harry yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry couldn't help but stare at Uncle Vernon, anger and a slight bit of apprehension evident on his face.

A week. He would have to stand Aunt Marge a whole week. A week right after his birthday no less. It was the worst possible timing.

Any other week of the summer would have been a better option. Granted, he might have had some trouble with keeping his anger in check but Harry felt that he would have managed. Now on the other hand…

The thirteenth birthday for a young wizard was one of the more important ones there was. It was one of those times that the wizards magic evolved in a sense that it was the beginning stage of the maturation of the magic within them. A magical puberty in other words.

And it just so happened that about a week after the thirteenth birthday, the magic of the wizard was in an unstable state, meaning that strong emotions were likely to result in a burst of accidental magic. And with the way that Aunt Marge always managed to get under his skin, some kind of an incident was bound to happen. Which Uncle Vernon was not going to like.

This was not going to be pleasant week.

"I'm going," Harry said. "I've had enough."

Next thing Harry knew, he had walked out the house, dragging his trunk behind him while Hedwig's cage under the other arm.

That really hadn't gone well. Not that Harry had expected it to go well in the first place.

There had been multiple signs of Harry's magical core being unstable during the whole week of Aunt Marge's stay. Mostly the lights kept flashing when Aunt Marge made an especially cutting remark about his looks or parents or how he was not getting enough discipline at St. Brutus. Harry had managed to keep most of his anger at check thanks to the promise he had gotten from Uncle Vernon to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip for him if he behaved like a normal muggle.

It worked, almost.

If you didn't count today evenings accident, the only other major slip he had was when he blasted Aunt Marge's wine glass to pieces. Thankfully, that incident didn't seem to be the only time that Aunt Marge's glass had broken in her hand. She explained that she had a strong grip but everyone else knew that it had been Harry that had broken the glass. Because really, was it a coincidence that the moment that Aunt Marge had called Harry's mother a bitch, the glass broke in her hand. No, no one else believed that either.

And tonight? Well, Harry just snapped. After a week of listening to Aunt Marge insulting everything that was wrong with Harry and his parents, his magic just reacted. Next thing he knew, Aunt Marge had ballooned out like she had been filled with helium and started to float towards the ceiling.

Worried about the reaction of Uncle Vernon as well as the Ministry of Magic because of his bout of accidental magic, especially after the last summer, he ran away. He couldn't stay here anyway.

Even if the Ministry wasn't coming to snap his wand in half because he had broken the Law of Underage Magic after the warning he had received the previous summer, Uncle Vernon had looked to be in rage. Better to run away and not stay in the house because by the looks of things, Uncle Vernon had been finally pushed past the edge of not caring about whether Harry had a couple of broken bones or not. Harry wasn't keen on finding out so he ran.

But where could he go? Or maybe the better question would be, how to get there once he had a location in mind? How would he survive once he got wherever he was going?

He had no muggle money and from the wizarding side he might have a Galleon or two somewhere in his trunk. He had no idea how much that was in the terms of the supplies that he could get with them but he guessed he might survive a while with them, considering that the Weasleys had bought a whole Lockhart's book collection plus all the other school supplies for five children last summer with maybe a bit more than that. Granted, they had been a second hand supplies, but still, for five children?

So, with that in mind, two Galleons was a lot. That still wouldn't help him in anyway here in the muggle world.

He stopped and looked around, trying to figure out where he was in the darkness.

Magnolia Crescent, Harry thought to himself once he managed to locate himself, I should be able stop for a while and think of a plan.

With that, he put Hedwig's cage on the sidewalk, lowered his trunk and sat on top of it to think, twirling his wand in between his fingers while looking up and down the street in case some Ministry wizard was approaching him. Though, what was he going to do if one found him was one thing he had no idea about.

The only proper dueling spell that he knew was the Expelliarmus and the rest were some minor prank spell's like Tarantallegra which were easy to cancel with a simple Finite, the spell that cancelled most of the charms.

And even if he managed to disarm the wizard, who's to say that they didn't have back up with them who would cast a spell on him while he was occupied with the other.

All in all, Harry's options were extremely limited.

Having checked that there was no one in his immediate line of sight, Harry began to think his options.

He had no way of contacting anyone and even if he did, it would still take too long for it to even be a sensible option. Not only was the owl post slow, with the quickest response time being maybe a day if he was lucky, but that both Ron and Hermione were abroad on their holidays and Harry had no idea about Hagrid's whereabouts during the summer.

Even if he somehow could contact either Ron or Hermione right this moment, Harry still wouldn't dare to ask them to help in this situation. Oh, Harry was sure that they would happily jump at the chance of helping him but still, three underage kids were still had no chance at avoiding the Ministry for too long.

So that option was out.

The other option was to take his Nimbus 2000 broomstick, tie his trunk to it, pun his invisibility cloak on and fly to London, empty his vault at the Gringotts Wizarding Bank and then fly somewhere far, far away. Although how he would manage to empty the contents of that vault in his trunk, Harry had no idea. He couldn't cast a spell that would somehow make something bigger in the inside. Granted, his trunk did have an enchantment that did basically the same, but it still wasn't big enough to store a several cubic meters of gold in it.

But maybe he could fit some so that he could survive at least a while on his own.

With that plan in mind, Harry got up and opened his trunk with intention of getting his broom and invisibility cloak out so that he could get on with the plan, he felt like someone was watching him.

Straightening his posture, wand pointing slightly downwards but still ready to cast if he needed to, Harry once again surveyed his surroundings.

At first glance, there was nothing but a darkness around him, the pale moonlight doing little in the way of lighting the area around him. But then he noticed some movement on the other side of the street between the buildings.

It didn't look like much at first but as the shape seemed to be approaching, Harry kept on his guard. Then it stopped at the edge of the shadow of the buildings. Harry could just about make out it's shape which looked kind of like a dog.

If dogs could grow to be the size of a pony that is.

With it's dark eyes gleaming in the darkness and the way that it's sharp teeth could be seen in the little light that did hit them, the sight was absolutely terrifying for Harry. Especially if you take into the account that he was terrified and paranoid enough already with the events of past hour or so.

There they were, the boy and the dog, staring at each other for maybe five seconds that felt like an eternity for Harry. Then the dog took one step forward. Harry took a step backwards.

And stumbled on his trunk, his wand arm flying up instinctively while using his other arm to try and break the fall. He landed on his ass on the ground wincing in the slight pain it brought for him, hurriedly looking up and trying to locate the dog…

BANG!

Suddenly his vision was full of light. Harry threw his wand arm in front of his eyes in order to shield them from it when he heard a tires squealing like someone had pressed the brake pedal to the floor and managed to lock their brakes.

Feeling that whatever it was that had appeared to stop in front of him, Harry opened his eyes.

Then he closed them, shook his head and opened them again, making sure that his eyes weren't trying to trick him. Harry even tried pinching himself. When none of these seemed to work, Harry had to come to the conclusion that, yes, it was a violently purple bus, a triple-decker, in front of him.

And as the conductor, who was dressed in a matching purple uniform was stepping outside of the bus, Harry couldn't help but think, What on earth have I done now, when the conductor began speaking.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening…"

"Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't...yes...well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry," Minister Fudge said, giving Harry an apologetic smile and one last handshake and left him with Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry still couldn't believe that he wasn't expelled from Hogwarts due to the stunt that he had pulled on his aunt.

When Harry had stepped out of that bloody expensive death trap called the Knight Bus and seen Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, was there to receive him, Harry had been terrified. Forget being expelled, Harry thought for a moment that he was going to be sentenced to Azkaban.

But now that Harry had calmed down he could see that the reason was quite obvious to him. Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban.

With Harry being the reason that Voldemort was defeated, it made sense that one of his most loyal supporters would try and avenge their master. With Black on the run and Harry being the most likely target, of course the Minister would pardon Harry from something as minor as performing accidental magic on his aunt. Especially as Harry just had his thirteenth birthday a week ago.

Just think about the reaction that the public would have if it were to come out that the Boy-Who-Lived had been expelled from school when Black had escaped from prison just a week ago, Harry thought. He knew that minister Fudge was a politician who kept public opinion high on the list that mattered the most. Case in point, the Chamber of Secrets being opened again last year and, because Hagrid was expelled when it was opened previously over fifty years ago, minister Fudge arresting Hagrid just so that the minister was seen doing something to stop the attacks.

It would be a no brainer in Fudge's books to make sure that Harry wasn't expelled.

Having come to that conclusion, Harry saw that Tom was waiting for him at the doorway of the little private dining room that would lead back to the main dining hall of the inn in order to lead Harry to his room.

Giving Tom a tired smile in order to convey his appreciation, Harry stood up and gestured Tom to lead the way.

Stepping out of the private dining room, Harry took note of the people that still were sitting in the dozen or so tables that littered the hall. There were only five and four of them looked to be a group of friends having a drink that looked to be in their seventies if they were muggles. Harry could never tell with wizards. Case in point, Albus Dumbledore supposedly looked to be in his eighties but was well over hundred years old if Harry remembered correctly.

The fifth person, a man in his early thirties maybe, on the other hand was sitting on the closest table to the door that Harry had just come out of and, if Harry wasn't mistaken, had been keeping an eye on it.

He was proven correct as after recognising Harry, the man had stood up and started to approach him.

"Mr. Potter!" the man called out in a business like tone in his voice. Harry stopped and took a closer look at the man.

He was maybe a six feet tall and quite thin with a long, light brown hair that was tied in a ponytail, a dull brown eyes and a face that, while not unpleasant, you wouldn't pay any attention in a crowd unless it was pointed out´to you. The way he also dressed wasn't something extraordinary: a plain black robe, a white undershirt and a black tie that looked neither expensive nor cheap in quality. If Harry had to make a guess, the man was a mid level government employer.

Having made his approach, the man spoke again in the same tone.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sorry to bother you after what has been an adventurous day from what I hear but what I have to say cannot wait."

Harry looked at the man, confusion and exhaustion evident on his face.

"I'm sorry sir, but do I know you?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too impolite but not succeeding if the frown on the man's face said anything about it.

"Ah, where are my manners. I am Mathias Turpin, representing the Department of Magical Inheritance. I am here to give you a letter from your late father, James Potter, as per his will now that you have reached the age of thirteen," the man answered, the business like tone not wavering despite Harry's tone. Reaching in his robes, Mr. Turpin brought out an envelope made out of parchment with a wax seal and offering it to Harry.

Whatever it was that Harry was expecting, this was certainly not it.

A letter from my father?, Harry thought, his stomach tightening in apprehension, fearing the words that his father might have wrote down on the letter.

Yes, he was afraid what his father might have written for him. What orphan wouldn't be? Especially when the Dursleys had told Harry was unwanted by his parents because no matter how much Harry didn't want to believe them, nothing in Harry's life had given him a proof otherwise. Even the supposed sacrifice of his mother was questionable seeing as Harry didn't remember it.

So, here was the proof that his parents either loved him or hated him and Harry was afraid to find out.

Harry knew that his face showed his fear, but Mr. Turpin didn't seem to care as he still looked to be all business and kept offering the letter for Harry.

Slowly, Harry reached out with a shaking hand and took the letter in his hands and brought it to his eye level. The letter wasn't exactly heavy in Harry's hands but it still felt like it due to the possible content of it. The wax seal that Harry noticed had a coat of arms pressed on it. It wasn't anything remarkable, a shield with a sword in the middle of it with it's pommel seemingly glowing and two wands crossed behind it, shooting three sparks each with a some kind of a motto written below the shield. Harry couldn't make out what it said and probably wouldn't understand it, it most likely being written in Latin.

Harry turned the letter around and read what was written on the front.

Harry, My Son

Harry could have kept staring at those words for hours, his emotions in turmoil, if it wasn't for Mr. Turpin clearing his throat in order to get Harry's attention.

"That will be all Mr. Potter," he said and turned around to leave Harry with Tom.

Harry didn't know if it was the completely indifferent attitude Mr. Turpin had or if it was something else but Harry asked a question from the retreating man.

"Wait, is this really all that my parents left for me?" Harry asked in a confusion laden voice, for a moment completely forgetting about the vault in Gringotts full of money that was left for him by his parents.

Mr. Turpin turned around, seemingly as businesslike as ever, though the frown was back in his face.

"Well, other than the vault in Gringotts that I know you are aware of Mr. Potter, then yes," he answered, a slight amount of annoyance creeping in his voice.

"The only property that your family owned by the time of the death of your parents has been claimed by the ministry and turned into a memorial, marking as the end of the war," Mr. Turpin continued and turned once again to leave if it wasn't because Harry had another question in mind.

"Then why is it that I receive this letter now and not for example when I first entered the wizarding world for the first time?" Harry asked, this time with no small amount of anger in his voice, not caring if he was rude anymore. Not like Mr. Turpin deserved any politeness from him in Harry's opinion. The man had been almost indifferent to the death of his parents so it wasn't like Harry cared if he was polite or not.

Mr. Turpin was now visibly annoyed, and his answer mirrored it.

"Because, according to the will of your father, this letter was to be given to you in your thirteenth birthday. Someone from my department would have come to your relatives house on your birthday if it wasn't for the escape of Sirius Black that had the whole ministry being in disarray because of it. The only reason that I am here tonight to give you this letter is because I happened to hear from an acquaintance of mine that you were seeing entering here and I am one of the members of my department that was in charge of the execution of your father's will," came the answer from Mr. Turpin with a tone that told Harry that they had nothing to discuss about the subject anymore.

With a final look at Harry, Mr. Turpin turned to leave and was quickly in front of the fireplace and gone in a flash of green flames of the Floo Travel, leaving Harry to watch after him with the letter in his hand and a mind in turmoil with a lot of unanswered questions…