A/N: This story starts in the summer before 7th year. Warnings and Rating for later chapters.

Disclaimer: The characters and places in this story do not belong to me. I promise I will leave everything exactly as I found it when I am done... Well, maybe just slightly different. I promise they will be happier though.

Chapter One

The house at Number Four, Privet Drive was quiet and dark, save for a solitary light shining from one of the bedroom windows. Inside, Harry Potter was lying awake in wait of his seventeenth birthday. In just under an hour, he would be allowed to leave the house that had been his own personal hell. No more cooking meals for everyone while he himself was fed scraps, no more Aunt Petunia barking at him to tend to the garden, no more dodging Uncle Vernon's massive fists, and best of all, no more Dudley. Harry could finally escape this hellhole, and focus on eliminating Voldemort.

Harry sighed and glanced down at his watch. Thirty more minutes. This was taking forever. He just needed to get the hell out… Every minute he was stuck here was a minute wasted. Voldemort was getting stronger, and every minute Harry wasted was another opportunity for Voldemort to end more innocent lives. Twenty more minutes. Harry opened his trunk, and began to gather his things. He planned to leave right at the stroke of midnight. He would stay until then out of respect for Lily's sacrifice, but he needed to get out and do something before his inaction got more people killed. He picked up the clothes that had accumulated on the floor, and threw them haphazardly into his trunk. Next, he pulled up the loose floorboard that housed, among other things, his Invisibility Cloak. He looked at the mass of letters from his friends that had accumulated over the years, each one of them wishing him a happy birthday. There was one letter, at the very bottom of the pile, that held a special place in Harry's heart. It was the first Hogwarts letter he ever got, the one that Hagrid gave him right after telling him that he was a wizard. His friends probably had no idea he kept them all.

His watch beeped. Five minutes. Harry carefully placed the letters in his trunk, then glanced at Hedwig's empty cage. He had let her out to hunt over two hours ago, hoping she would return before he left. It was clear that was not going to happen, and he was not going to waste more time waiting on her. She was a smart owl, and would go to The Burrow if he wasn't home when she returned. Placing her cage on top of his trunk, he double checked to make sure he had everything. He would not be coming back.

The alarm on his watch went off once more. Midnight. Harry was officially seventeen. He could use magic; he could finally leave, and the feeling was overwhelming. He made sure that his Invisibility Cloak was handy, and levitated the trunk and cage. As he grasped the doorknob, he glanced back into his room one last time. He frowned. The window was still open from when he let Hedwig out. He went to close it, and stopped. Peering out into the horizon, he saw four dots moving in the sky. He sighed. He knew they were letters wishing him a happy birthday. His friends hadn't missed a year yet. The dots steadily grew larger, gaining shape and definition until they began to resemble owls. Pig, Hedwig, a short-eared owl that must belong to Hermione, and a Hogwarts barn owl were all flying towards his bedroom window. Within moments, they were soaring in the window. Hedwig had no letter, and went straight to her cage. The Hogwarts owl flew to Harry's desk and held out its leg, demanding he take the letter from it. Unrolling the letter, Harry had no idea what to expect. Hogwarts had been destroyed in the attack last spring.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am writing primarily to inform you that it is the decision of the Board of Governors that Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry will, in fact, open this fall for any students who wish to return. The events that occurred last term are regretful, however by choosing to reopen the school, we are choosing not to let Voldemort win. We must show him that this loss, no matter how big it feels, is a small setback from which we will recover. That brings me to my second reason for writing.

In one week, I will be sending a letter to all of the parents informing them of the Board's decision. It would be wonderful if I could assure them that, given the death of our Headmaster, their children will be safe. Frankly, they might be more inclined to believe me if there was someone equally as iconic to our side of the war present at the school. I have a favor to ask of you Harry. At risk of imitating the Minister's political tactics, I would ask you to return this year to be, for lack of a better term, moral support for the students and their parents. I know that you must detest the thought that I am using you, however, I can assure you it will be worth it.

I am aware that shortly before his death, Professor Dumbledore asked you to perform a task, and that this task is crucial to defeating You-Know-Who. I am also aware that you share this task with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Should you return, I will give you, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger as much leniency as you all need to perform the task, and will try my best to stay out of the way. The Order, however, might prove to be more difficult to dissuade.

Finally, there is one more reason I ask your return. I will not discuss it now, however, I can assure you it is of the utmost importance.

I do apologise, and I ask your forgiveness and leniency in this matter.

Patiently awaiting your response,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. Happy Birthday Harry. I trust that it will be a good one.

Harry cursed. What nerve she had! She was as bad as the Minister! How dare she try to use him to manipulate the public? Harry was livid, and his first impulse was to burn the damn thing. However, he resisted the impulse, and reread the letter. The end stood out to him in particular. There is one more reason I ask your return. I will not discuss it now, however, I can assure you it is of the utmost importance. That was enough to pique his interest, but he wasn't totally convinced he wanted to confront the memories that Hogwarts held.

Putting the thoughts out of his head for now, he picked up the letter from Pig.

Hey mate! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I'm going to keep this short, as we plan to see you soon. Everyone here misses you. Mum is having a fit. 'All her kids are growing up too fast' and such. Honestly, what does she expect?

Anyway, I hope you like your present.

See you soon,

Ron

Looking down at the package, Harry couldn't help but wonder how Pig managed to carry it by himself. The thing was huge! Picking it up and tearing open the paper, Harry smiled when he saw the contents. Many of Fred and George's products littered the bottom, while the rest of the box was filled with various candy, and a rather large book titled The Quidditch Guide to Becoming a Professional Player. Harry was willing to bet that book could teach him more about the game than just a couple of manoeuvres, and promised himself he would study it religiously in the near future.

He moved to the brown short-eared owl, and took the letter that was, in fact, from Hermione.

Hey Harry. Happy Birthday!

My family has taken a vacation to the United States, and I've found some rather interesting book stores here. We even took a trip to the most beautiful village called Merrick Place, and it was a bit like Hogsmeade. I simply must come back one day. They have the coolest shops, and I found lots of things to stuff in that box for your birthday. I hope you enjoy all of it.

I hope to be back in the country within a week, and I promise I will be at The Burrow in time for Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Please give my regards to Ron and the rest of the Weasleys.

Much Love,

Hermione

Well, bugger. Harry had completely forgotten about the wedding. It was to take place on the 1st of August. That was tomorrow. Oh, well, there was nothing for it now. Besides, he would be at The Burrow in time for the wedding anyway.

As the owl flew out his window, Harry flicked his wand and the window closed itself. Opening up Hermione's package, he was surprised by the sheer amount of stuff that Hermione managed to fit into the box. There were at least five books, a broom repair kit, and a few instruments whose purpose he could only guess. He would have to ask her when he saw her.

Packing away his gifts, Harry was once again turning towards the door. He had his trunk levitating through the door when he heard the tapping. Glancing back at his window, he was surprised to see a large eagle owl sitting on the ledge. He had never seen the owl before, and that alone put him on edge. His mother's protection had worn off, and this could very well be some sort of trap. Something told him it wasn't however, and he opened the window. The owl flew in, dropped a letter on his bed, and departed as quickly as it arrived. Harry picked up the letter and held it for a few seconds. When he wasn't whisked away to Voldemort, he decided it was safe to open.

It was brief, and written in an elegant script.

Potter,

You must gather your relatives and leave as soon as you can. The Dark Lord and his followers are planning to attack your home. They will arrive at two o'clock sharp. Your relatives are not safe in the muggle world. The Dark Lord is using Blood Magic, and he will find them. He will find you. You must have a hiding place, so get there before he finds you.

Be safe.

Harry knew he could not afford to second guess the validity of the letter. He disliked the Dursleys, but he would not ever wish on them the harm the Death Eaters would inflict if they were caught. He glanced down at his watch. One o'clock. If the letter was to be believed, they had just short of an hour to gather their things and get as far away as possible. Harry levitated his belongings down the stairs and into the hallway, and braced himself for what he had to do. He paused only briefly before knocking on his Aunt and Uncle's door. After much grunting and swearing, Vernon Dursley in all his mass stood in the door.

"What do you mean by waking us up at one in the bloody morning, boy?"

"Wake Dudley up. You're in danger. We need to get out of here. Pack as little as possible."

"What? What do you mean, we're in danger? Have you brought something dangerous into my house? Are more of those Dementoid things after you? I let you stay before, but it won't happen again! I'll not have you endan-"

"Kicking me out won't do you any good. What's after me is much worse, and when it gets here it will only kill you. It won't matter whether I'm here or not. Voldemort will see that you are muggles. If you are lucky, he will only torture you for a little bit before he kills you." At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, there was a squeal from behind Vernon. "That's right, Aunt Petunia. It's him. The one who killed them. He's coming, and he will have us if we don't leave now!"

"Are you sure?" His Aunt's quiet tone didn't fool Harry. He knew that she was the only one who could even begin to grasp the horror of the situation.

Harry sighed. Lying to them was not going to help. "No, I'm not. But can we really afford to take the chance?"

"Very well. Vernon, wake Dudders and help him pack his things. I will take care of ours. We will go to Marge's for a while. We will tell her that we are having the house fumigated."

Harry recalled the letter. Your relatives are not safe in the muggle world. The Dark Lord is using Blood Magic, and he will find them. "NO! He may be evil, but he is very resourceful. He is using powerful blood magic to find us, and he will find you there too. He will want to know where I am, and will try to get you to draw me out. Going there would only put her in danger." Harry hated Marge with a burning passion; however, he would not see her dead because of him. "You'll have to come with me."

Vernon opened his mouth to protest, but Petunia silenced him with a look. "This is our lives we are talking about, Vernon. We must do what's best for us, even if that means putting up with this...freakishness." Vernon seemed to have discovered a new shade of puce, but nodded his head after a moment. Petunia turned to Harry. "Where will we go?"

Harry thought for a second. Grimmauld Place was out of the question. With Dumbledore's death, Harry had no idea who could access the house. Muggles couldn't see The Leaky Cauldron, so that was out. No, he would have to go to The Burrow. That left only the problem of actually getting there with three muggles. He had no idea whether muggles could take the Knight Bus, and it was not a good way to maintain a low profile, so that was out. He couldn't apparate, and he didn't know how to create a portkey, so those weren't options either. Then a wild thought occurred to him. He remembered that there was a member of the Order right down the road. "We will go to Abrella Figg's house, where we'll floo to The Burrow, and stay there until I can find somewhere else for you to stay." If Petunia was surprised to learn that Ms. Figg knew about the magical world, or had any qualms about staying somewhere named "The Burrow," she didn't show it. Harry just hoped beyond hope that Muggles could use the Floo Network without something nasty happening.

By the time the Dursleys were ready to leave, they had scarcely ten minutes left. He levitated his trunk out the door, then paused. "You need to stay as close to me as possible, and be completely silent. If you go running or screaming, you'll be dead before you can say 'oops.' Do you understand?" The Dursleys nodded their heads. They filed out the door, and walked down the street.

Petunia knocked at Ms. Figg's door, and Harry glanced down at his watch. They had three minutes. Ms. Figg was not answering. "Move aside!" Harry pointed his wand at the door. "Alohamora!" The door swung open. "In."

They moved in, and as Harry closed the door, he heard several loud cracks, a telltale sign of Apparation. "Hurry!" Then louder, "Ms. Figg! Are you here?"

"Harry dear, is that you?" She was hobbling down the stairs. "What are you doing here this la-Oh!" she started as she saw all of the Durlseys in her house, and her eyes went from them, to the wand in Harry's hand. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"There's an attack! Voldemort's here, right up the road. Is your fireplace connected to the Floo Network?"

"WHAT? You-Know-Who is here?"

"Yes, and we need to get out of here! Is your fireplace connected or not?"

"Yes dear, of course. The Floo Powder is just there, on the mantle." She pointed to a small jar.

"Thank you. Do you know if muggles can use the Floo Network?"

"I don't rightly know, but if a Squib like me can, then I assume they could."

We'll find out, won't we?" Turning to the Dursleys, he explained the technique to them. "Just make sure to speak clearly. You're going to The Burrow, so that's what you will say. There's no time for questions." There was a loud BANG! and they could see a column of flames rising from up the road, where their house once stood. "Go now!" he hissed.

Though wary of it, they each took their turn, and Harry helped Ms. Figg. She followed the Dursleys, and Harry glanced back out the window. His last thought he had before the emerald flames swallowed him was one of gratitude to whoever sent that letter.