Disclaimer: I am the rightful owner of the characters Lucrid Valhalla, Acle Nordelph, Rupert Pudprince, Marcus Filby, Harkins, and Greeth. All other characters are property of JK Rowling. This disclaimer will be updated as more of my characters are introduced to the story.

Chapter 1: Worst Laid Plans

It had been three weeks now since Harry Potter had left Hogwarts and arrived back at Privet Drive with the Dursleys. Harry Potter, who in September would be starting his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was a soon to be fifteen year old wizard with dazzling green eyes, untidy black hair and an unusual lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

The Dursleys were Harry's only living relatives and were what was known as Muggles (non-magic folk). They saw Harry's ability to use magic as some sort of abnormality and saw Harry himself to be a waste of space. All through the summer holiday, Harry's porky Uncle Vernon and his horse-faced Aunt Petunia had been yelling at him over the pettiest of things.

Harry however, had barely noticed he was even back at Privet Drive. All through the summer, one horrible thought had been plaguing Harry's mind. Voldemort was back.

It had happened literally weeks ago. Harry had watched helplessly as Voldemort's servant, Wormtail, resurrected the dark wizard that Harry had defeated as a baby. Harry had then managed to survive a duel with Voldemort and return safely to Hogwarts, but one of Harry's fellow students, Cedric Diggory, was killed.

Harry was growing increasingly more worried about Voldemort and kept wondering when and where he would strike first. All summer Harry had been receiving owls from his friends, Hermione and Ron, with letters containing any news on Voldemort. So far Voldemort hadn't made a move but Ron mentioned that something had happened at the Ministry of Magic that he thought was linked to Voldemort.

Harry was desperate to get back to the wizarding world to catch up on all the latest news and he had now become so depressed that even taunting his fat cousin Dudley had lost its appeal. There was only one thing that was keeping Harry going. This coming Saturday his best friend Ron Weasley would be arriving at Privet Drive to pick up Harry so that he could stay with the Weasley family for the rest of the summer.

Harry had told the Dursleys this and, so far, they had avoided the subject of the Weasleys. The Dursleys detested the Weasleys, mostly because they were wizards, and partly because they had blown apart the Dursleys fireplace the year before. However, Harry knew the Dursleys couldn't shy away from the subject forever... and he was right.

It happened on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Harry was leaning out of his bedroom window staring down into the empty street below when he heard Uncle Vernon's booming voice.

"Potter! Get down here now!"

Harry trundled downstairs and stepped into the Dursleys decorative kitchen. His Aunt Petunia was busy peeling potatoes in the sink, Dudley was sitting at the table wolfing down a bowl of chocolate mouse, and Uncle Vernon was sitting opposite reading his newspaper.

"Uncle Vernon?" asked Harry making his way across the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon looked up and stared sourly at Harry through narrow eyes.

"These Weasleys," Uncle Vernon said disgustedly. "How exactly are they planning on getting here? Flying car? Or maybe they'd prefer to use the fireplace again."

Harry looked back angrily at Uncle Vernon. Harry didn't have a clue. Ron hadn't mentioned how they'd be arriving.

"I don't know," Harry replied sternly. "I'll write to Ron and find out shall I?"

"You'd better," Uncle Vernon growled throwing Harry a very sly look.

"And you'd better make sure no other parts of our house get decimated this time," Aunt Petunia snapped.

They both stared disapprovingly at Harry as he shuffled quietly out of the kitchen. Harry strode back upstairs and opened the door to his bedroom. He sat at his desk and grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment. He was about to start scribbling when something darted through the open window and smacked him in the head like a speeding tennis ball. Harry shook his head and readjusted his glasses, then looked down to see a small creature lying dazed on the desktop. Harry recognised it instantly as Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, and noticed a message strapped to its leg. He removed it, then helped the pint sized delivery bird into Hedwig's cage to recover. Harry unravelled the letter and read it out in his head.

Harry,

There's been a change of plan. Charlie's suffered a serious burn injury from one of the dragons at work. Mum and Dad are heading over to Romania for a while to make sure he's ok so we won't be able to pick you up on Saturday. Sorry if this causes any problems.

Ron.

"Oh no," Harry whispered to himself. He sat down on his bed, still staring at the note, and sighed heavily. Now Harry would have to wait longer to find out what was going on in the wizarding world as well as having to spend more time with the Dursleys. "Looks like we'll be staying here a little longer Hedwig," Harry said sadly to his pet owl. Hedwig groaned miserably and rattled her cage causing Pigwidgeon to wake with a start. "I'd better go tell them," Harry sighed. "They aren't going to be happy."

Harry slouched back downstairs and into the Dursley's kitchen. Harry instantly knew this wasn't the best time to deliver the news to his uncle the moment he entered the room. Uncle Vernon was tearing and raging around the room like an angry bull shouting about and looking for some misplaced paperwork. Aunt Petunia was frivolously searching through drawers and cupboards to find it while Dudley just sat at the table, an empty mouse bowl in front of him, looking completely nonplussed. Harry turned and was about to leave the room but unfortunately he didn't get a chance to.

"What do you want boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon who had just spotted him.

Harry slowly turned around and met eyes with his reddened-faced uncle.

"Um... It's just that... Well you see..." Harry mumbled nervously.

"Spit out boy!" Uncle Vernon spat.

"Ron isn't coming to pick me up on Saturday," Harry said hastily.

At that moment, all the tension and frantic action in the kitchen stopped and everyone looked at Harry. Aunt Petunia stopped scattering around and Dudley's gormless expression had changed to confusion, as had that of his father's.

"What?" said Uncle Vernon slowly.

"One of his family members had been injured so I won't be going down there on Saturday," Harry replied more calmly.

"So you're not leaving on Saturday?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"No," Harry replied sternly.

"But Daddy, what about Aunt Marge?" asked Dudley desperately.

"Now... now hang on a minute son," Uncle Vernon said trying to clam Dudley.

"What?" asked Harry confusedly.

"We were all going on Saturday to stay with Vernon's sister for a few weeks... once you'd gone," Aunt Petunia said. "Oh Vernon, what are we going to do now? We can't take him with us can we?"

"No!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "There's no way I'm taking him to meet Marge again... not after what he did to her last time."

Uncle Vernon looked sharply at Harry and Harry gulped remembering the time when he'd accidentally blown Aunt Marge up like a balloon during a dinner.

"Well there's no place to send him," Aunt Petunia said, now beginning to run out of ideas. "Mrs Figg's left now, and we can't leave him here alone... Maybe we should just cancel Vernon."

"No!" Dudley wailed.

"We are not cancelling!" Uncle Vernon shouted with rage. "Listen to me boy," he hissed, grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck. "You must have at least one other freaky friend you can stay with, get them to pick you up on Saturday!"

Harry stood trembling, staring angrily back at Uncle Vernon's purple face.

"Ok," Harry said eventually. "I'll find someone."

"Make sure you do," Uncle Vernon whispered darkly. He let go of Harry's collar and Harry edged out of the room with all of the Dursley's eyes following him. Harry wandered back upstairs and into his bedroom. Pigwidgeon was now happily chirping away in the cage with Hedwig angrily screeching at it in an attempt to calm it down. Harry quietly sat at his desk and grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment. He needed to find someplace to stay before Saturday. He dipped his quill into his inkpot and began to write out a letter to the only person he could turn to now.

Dear Hermione... he wrote.