It was a cold, misty morning, and Harry was sitting on his bed at number 4 Privet Drive. He had gotten little sleep that night. He returned to the casements again and saw it all again; Dumbledore begging, Snape yelling, and the tumbling of Dumbledore's limp body over the cliff. He had awoken in a cold sweat, and didn't know what to think. It had been only a month since Dumbledore's death, and Harry did what Dumbledore had asked him to do; return to Privet Drive one last time. Since he had returned, his aunt and uncle had been leaving him alone, which was completely fine with Harry. He only had been seeing them at meal times, but that was only so he could get his food and retreat back to his room.

But today seemed different, when Harry awoke, he went out to the hall to go to the kitchen for a snack to help calm his nerves, but he wasn't the only one in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was in there in her nightgown with something already made up for Harry. Harry was startled to see her, and literally jumped back when she spoke to him.

Here Harry, take this. I can make some for myself, Aunt Petunia said to him.

Harry was a little confused, but took it gratefully. He turned to go back up the stairs, but Aunt Petunia stopped him.

Harry, er, do you mind if I ask you a question? I mean, it's ok if you don't want to answer it, but, I really need to know this.

Harry thought for a minute, quite perplexed, then decided to let her talk.

Ok. Shoot. I'm listening.

Aunt Petunia seemed to sink just a little as she began this next sentence, but continued nonetheless.

Harry, I need to know. Honestly, and wholly, what happened this year at, ahem, school?

Harry was taken aback. For the past sixteen years while Harry had been in this house, he had never been asked this question, not by anyone. Most people strayed away from him, let alone ask him about his own life when he was away from Privet Drive.

Well, Harry began slowly, Umm…, wait, why do you want to know? You have never taken any interest in me since I've lived here, and now you want to know what's going on in my life? Harry's temper was still getting the best of him, but not as bad as it was. Also, he didn't really want to talk to anyone about what had happened. Not even Ron and Hermione.

I… I… I just was instructed to ask. Aunt Petunia tried to explain everything to him. She seemed to be having trouble. He, you know, the man who came here last summer, Professor, er, Professor…

Dumbledore? choked Harry.

Yes, him. He wrote to me in May. He told me that there was something important going on, and he said in his letter that I should ask you about this year. In his letter, it said something about me being able to help you with something. I don't see how, but I don't know. So, what really did happen this year at school?

Harry thought about this explanation. He didn't know if he should tell her or not, but decided he should, mainly because Dumbledore told her to ask him, and because she might have something of importance to Harry.

Well, I guess I should tell you. Not that it will really make a difference considering you don't know who any of the people involved are nor do you really care, I'm sure. But, since, ahem, Harry was still having issues with saying Dumbledore's name, Dumbledore said that I should tell you, I guess it would probably be a good idea. Ok. What happened this year, summed up, was the worst year of my life, that I remember, Harry suddenly remembered the night his parents died and the green flash of light. He continued on. First, I got my nose broken because I had a major suspicion about this one person, then I got detention first thing. Also, I almost killed one person on accident. Harry looked to his aunt, for she made a loud gasp at this. Hey! I said it was on accident. I found this spell in a book of mine, and I said it and his chest was basically cut open. I didn't mean to! It was in my Potions book, and I just said it, I didn't know what it did. But I really didn't mean to. Also, my least favorite teacher, he, um, I really don't want to say. It's too hard…Harry trailed off. Aunt Petunia looked at him.

Well, take your time. I'm listening. Is it really that bad? Aunt Petunia was acting like she had never acted before. Harry was a little bemused by it, but grateful all the same. He was starting to feel better by talking about his year, and not only that, he enjoyed how Aunt Petunia was listening to him and not scoffing at him or turning away from him.

Yes, Aunt Petunia, it really is that bad. I couldn't believe it when it really happened, but it happened! Professor Snape, well you don't know who he is, but he is my least favorite teacher. He hates me and always has. He could actually give Uncle Vernon a run for his money. At this, Harry believed he would be reprimanded for that comment, but Aunt Petunia didn't say anything. She just stayed there, listening to him. He… he… he killed, murdered Professor Dumbledore. In cold sweat, right there, without warning. Dumbledore was begging for something, but he was begging! Dumbledore, he just, left me. I don't know what to do. I… I'm scared and worried.

Harry sat down on a chair and looked up at Aunt Petunia. Her expression was hard to read. He didn't know whether she was ready to console Harry, or laugh at his misery. Finally, she began to speak.

So, you mean that the Headmaster of that school is dead? That a teacher murdered him?

Yes.

So, does that mean I won't be getting any more exploding letters and you won't be called here anymore?

Yes. Harry was beginning to get upset and annoyed by her stupidity with the fact that Dumbledore was dead.

Well, I guess he was right about one thing. I can help you with a few things.