DISCLAIMER: I certainly do not own any of the characters in any of these stories; the whole lot of them belongs solely to J.K. Rowling, that lucky dog. And I really encourage you to read The Order of the Phoenix, because this story may contain spoilers for and information that won't make sense to those who haven't.

Harry Potter stumbled out of bed that morning to the sound of his wailing uncle.

"Where in hell is that wretched boy!? BOY! GET DOWN HERE!"

"Please don't be about Hedwig," Harry muttered hopefully as he glanced at his alarm clock, which blinked the red numbers 7 : 4 3.

He descended the stairs of the small house his relatives owned at Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey, and walked lazily in the direction of which his uncle's loud, grumbling voice was coming from.

"A filthy owl just flew in through the kitchen window with the post from your bloody friends! This has been happening all summer, boy! One more time I have to tell you about this, you and this owl get a beating! GOT IT?!"

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," Harry said apologetically. He quietly told Hedwig to fly up to his bedroom window with the post wondering why she had become so careless this summer, and he exited the room, or at least tried to.

"Harry, this funny business is getting out of control. Now I understand that you have to stay here during the holidays for safety precautions, but you mustn't make a circus out of this household. Now up to your room, Dudley will send breakfast," explained his aunt with a somewhat more restrained anger than his uncle.

Harry highly doubted that he would receive breakfast this morning, mostly because Dudley was supposed to bring it up to his room, and trusting him with food is like trusting Lucius Malfoy in not dispensing valuable information he heard in an Order of the Phoenix meeting through some outside source. He grabbed his trunk that had been sitting in his closet for a long while and got out a box of hopefully-not-spoiled Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from the food trolley on his last train ride home from Hogwarts earlier that summer.

Harry of course had stayed in touch with Ron and Hermione, and he had received one letter from Luna and Cho that summer. Luna's told him to pick up the most recent issue of the Quibbler, for they always put in a good word of him, and that the new article on the pigs around the globe that just recently started to sprout wings would be in his field of interest. Harry didn't know whether or not to take that comment offensively. Cho's letter was just to say hello, and ask him of how his summer has been. Not the sorry he had been hoping so much for, since after all she did act a little irrationally toward him the past year. Ron and Hermione's letters were much longer than the others though, obviously because they were his best friends. Ron's almost always discussed Quidditch and the booming success that Fred and George's business had become, and Hermione's, the most recent edition of Hogwarts: A History, and how it was a collector's item and a very good investment, indeed, etc. Harry missed his friends, but in a month's time, he would be back to seeing them everyday, and having fun on the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry just remembered that Hedwig had flown into the house for a reason; he had a letter for Harry. He carefully removed the letter from Hedwig's beak and saw it had a Hogwarts seal.

"Yes, supply list! This means a trip to Diagon Alley soon." Harry thought as he ripped open his letter in excitement, as if it were a Christmas gift and he was six years old and painfully wanting that shiny red wagon to be underneath the wrapping.

Dear Mr. Potter,

This year's supply list for your sixth year at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry is attached, as well as your O.W.L.
results.

Harry had a flashback to that night he was taking his Astronomy exam, when Professor McGonagall had been stunned four times in an attempt to keep Umbridge and company in disposing of Hagrid, and his whole class had witnessed it also. The memories of the wicked Umbridge gave Harry such horrible feelings of strong animosity and hatred that if it hadn't been for the other letter hanging out of Hedwig's beak that distracted him from his own thoughts, he would have ripped up the piece of parchment he held in his hands.