It was still dark, but the sun was peeking shyly over the horizon, bringing streaks of reds, oranges, and yellows along with it. A ray of light pierced through a gap in the crooked blinds in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive. The beam formed a spotlight on the forehead of a raven-haired boy, illuminating the lightning bolt that marred his features. The jagged scar was a bright red, as though it had been weeping blood. It was a stark contrast to the pale skin it tore through.

The boy let out a light snore, yawned widely, and rubbed at closed eyes with the palms of his hands. He blindly fumbled for his round, wire-framed glasses upon the nightstand, knocking a letter to the ground in the process, and glanced groggily at the Chudley Cannons calendar that hung lopsided beside the bed.

Harry sat up suddenly, as though he had been doused with ice-cold water. Today was the first of July! Reaching to the ground, he snatched at the fallen paper and read it for what felt like the hundredth time that summer.

Harry,

Great news pup, this dog's shed his leash! Pettigrew, the filth, was captured by Dumbledore himself during a Death Eater raid at Pomona Sprout's is in St. Mungo's now, but they expect her to make a full recovery. Things would've been much worse if Albus didn't arrive when he did.

Dumbledore bound Peter and brought him directly to the ministry. As you know, Albus is the Supreme Mugwump, so he was able to call for an urgent meeting of the full Wizengamot. They conferred and put the vermin to question under Veritaserum, apparently they learned from their mistake in not using any on me. My name was cleared after that, of course. It'll be all over the morning's Prophet, but I wanted to be the one to break the news to you. I plan on making up to you all those years I missed of being your Godfather.

I'm sure you won't mind leaving the 'care' of your dear relatives, say, at six am on July the 1st to come stay with this old mutt?

Best,

Sirius

Harry was relieved that Professor Sprout would be alright, despite her recent coolness towards him. Along with the rest of Hogwarts, she had wrongly assumed he entered his name in the Goblet of Fire, stealing some glory from Cedric in doing so. Of course, she came around in the end, after seeing the fate that awaited them both in the graveyard. Harry could still see Cedric's lifeless eyes staring up at him, and Voldemort hissing 'Kill the spare.'

Sighing, Harry gave his head a rough shake, as if he was forcing the memory out of his mind. At the beginning of summer, he had resolved to not dwell on those thoughts, he knew they would slowly drive him to madness. Changing the past was impossible, so he would do everything he could to focus on a bright future for himself and his friends.

His green eyes danced along the final lines of his godfather's letter. Today was the day he would leave Privet Drive for good. The thought of never seeing the Dursley's again sent the corners of his lips tugging upwards. Immediately after receiving the letter, Harry had sent Hedwig off to Sirius with an emphatic 'Yes!', and instructed her to stay there until his arrival.

All of his belongings had been neatly stacked in the corner of his room. He had packed them ages ago in his excitement to leave, not that it had taken him very long. Most things Harry owned could be fit in just his school trunk, as his Aunt and Uncle had never been ones to shower him with gifts.

The days leading up to his departure had been spent catching up on work for his classes, and pouring over textbooks. Harry hadn't been the most dedicated student, but recent events had strengthened his resolve to put everything he had into educating himself and preparing for whatever may lie ahead. Many times, he found himself wondering what his best friend, Ron Weasley, say when he heard Harry spent the majority of his summer with his nose buried in books.

Harry glanced at his alarm clock, it read 5:07. Sirius said he'd arrange for him to come at six o'clock, but he'd never mentioned how they'd travel. He supposed it would be floo powder, or the Knight Bus. With any luck he'd be able to take off without rousing the Dursley's. It was a Saturday, and Dudley and his Uncle Vernon often slept well past ten on weekends.

As if his thoughts had stirred them awake, he heard the door to his Aunt and Uncle's bedroom creak open. Light footsteps made their way down the hallway, and paused in front of his room, almost hesitantly. Three soft knocks tapped against the hollow wood of the door.

"I'm awake, come in," Harry said, voice slightly lowered.

The knob turned slowly. Bony fingers gripped the edge of the door, and reluctantly nudged it open just enough for his Aunt Petunia to slide through the gap. Once through, she closed the door behind her. She craned her long neck and tilted her nose upwards slightly, as if smelling something foul.

"You're leaving, then." It was not a question.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"We didn't ask for this, you know. One day Vernon and I are beginning our lives as newlyweds, the next I'm forced to explain to him how a random child appeared on our doorstep," she sniffed haughtily.

Harry's anger prickled at this. "Your sister had just died, an innocent baby was left to your care, and all you could think of was how your life would be affected?" His eyes flashed.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," she snapped. "You've always been an ingrate. Take this." She flung a small box onto the bed. "Some of your Mother's old things, I have no need of them." Without another word, or glance back in his direction, she wheeled, and slipped back out.

The box was the size of thick book, silky smooth, and appeared velvety black at first glance, but when the Harry brought it into the light, forest greens reflected, producing a radiant effect. Each corner was bound with fine leather padding, and an ornate, silver-plated clasp fastened it closed. The letters 'L' and 'J' were embroidered into the metal with a flourish, intertwining with each other as if they were lovers.

With a shaky hand, Harry turned the clasp, and eased the top upwards. Along the underside of the lid, 'Memories' was carved elegantly. The interior was a midnight purple felt, and resting on the bottom were various small trinkets and treasures, photographs, and, most notably, a necklace, a wand, and a golden snitch.

Harry carefully lifted the necklace by it's thin chain. It was white gold, and sparkled like the water beneath a rising sun. An emerald teardrop charm dangled, a thousand facets expertly carved so it gleamed with life. Hands still quivering, he gingerly fastened it around his neck, and felt as if a wind had caressed his body.

There was a loud CRACK like that of a whip that sent Harry a foot into the air. A house-elf appeared by his side.

"Master Harry, I is being Kreacher, elf to the Black Family," he croaked, bowing deeply. His voice sounded like that of a bullfrog. "Sirius is instructing Kreacher to bring Master Harry and all of his things to the Black Manor."

"Hello Kreacher, thank's for coming." Harry said meekly. His heart was still pounding from the shock of an elf popping in. He had been so enraptured with his parents memory box, that he hadn't realized it was six 'oclock. "Just let me put this in my away." He stashed it safely in school trunk, wrapped in a pair of spare robes to protect from potential damage while traveling.

"Kreacher will come back for Master Harry's belongings," the said, tugging on Harry's arm. "It is being time to go."

Harry nodded at the elf, "Alright, Kreacher, all set." With a snap of the elf's long, crooked fingers, they vanished.