AN: I'm going to attempt to make this as JK-like as possible, so don't blow your heads off at me on how I 'don't need to fill you in.' I'm only going to briefly explain things, and all the explaining is going to be in this one chapter. Please review, it would make me infinitely happy.

There is no Mary-Sue, not a super power Harry fic, no slash, not much romance. Slight Hermione/Ron, and I might have Harry/Ginny. Why don't you vote whether you want Harry/Ginny in this fic? I don't do slash, so don't suggest it.

And the fact that I own Harry Potter would be about as truthful as my dog being the President of the United States. (Does anyone actually read the stupid disclaimers? It's not like JK would stroll onto fanfiction.net and sew me…)

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It was a humid, sunny day and Harry Potter was currently sitting on the curb at Magnolia Crescent, staring at the garage door of number two where he had first encountered Sirius, his recently deceased godfather. Harry's eyes had suddenly felt dry, and a burning feeling started to work its way up his throat. Harry blinked rapidly, but didn't move his head.

He did not care that the residents of number two were watching him warily out the window, exceptionally worried that the 'incurably criminal boy' was ogling at their house.

Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy; he attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, owned an invisibility cloak along with an expensive broom, and had a curse scar on his forehead where he could feel his enemy's emotions.

However, his Aunt and Uncle were very determined to stay as normal as they possibly could, and told the neighbors that Harry attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. This was not the only reason that the neighbors disliked Harry—he resided in a neighborhood where nearly everybody wore crisp suits and florally dresses, and Harry was dressed as though he got his clothes from a homeless center. Baggy jeans held up with a ratty belt, an old off-white undershirt, and trainers with the soles hanging on by a thread.

This did not bother Harry the slightest—he hardly considered himself a part of the muggle world, and he presented himself much better at Hogwarts in his perfectly normal robes. Harry continued to stare at the garage door, picturing the image of Padfoot that had scared Harry out of his wits only three years ago until he saw one of the residents of number two reaching slowly for the phone.

He stood up very suddenly, and walked towards the park with his fists clenched, hoping that they decided against calling the police when Harry left. Of course, there wasn't really much of a case. Who would be sent to jail for staring at a house?

Harry stuffed his hands in his pocket, and looked up at the sky. "Why did you have to go and get killed?" He asked an imaginary Sirius.

Harry half expected the clouds to form the smiling face of his godfather, or at least to form Sirius's Animagus form, but was greeted with nothing. He kicked a rock angrily, and sat down on a bench settled before a muddy man-made pond by the park.

"Hey Big D! Good job beating the crap out of that Evans kid!"

"Yeah! He won't be disrespecting the Dudster anymore!"

Harry snorted loudly. Dudster?

"Hey you, kid, you got something to say?"

Harry wheeled around, and said, "Yeah, I've got something to say. Shut your hole."

"Ooh, you shouldn't have said that."

"Big D will make tuna out of your face!"

"I'd like to see him try," Harry replied coolly, then egged Dudley on. "Comon' Big D, make tuna out of my face."

He smiled as Dudley fidgeted. "He's not worth my time," Dudley grunted, and stalked off.

"But Dud, he dissed you!"

"And he isn't worth my time!" Dudley shouted, "Drop it!"

Harry muffled a laugh. He knew it wouldn't be wise to pick on Dudley, but he hardly cared anymore. Soon the gang was long gone, and Harry was bored. Harry sighed as he glanced towards the sun descending into the horizon, and retreated back towards his 'home.'

As Harry entered the living room and headed towards the staircase, his uncle shouted, "Boy!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked.

"Your Aunt has been looking for you all day! You were supposed to de-weed the garden!"

"Sorry."

"That's—all right—just do it tomorrow," Vernon said in a strangled sort of voice. Harry smirked; knowing Vernon would rather rip out his own hair than let Harry shirk his chores, and ran upstairs. Vernon had been given threats to treat Harry properly, and Harry noticed his Uncle treaded very carefully around Harry, trying to avoid making his nephew angry.

Hedwig hooted in greeting as Harry entered. There was an unopened package with a note attached to it on Harry's desk.

"Thanks," Harry said absentmindedly to Hedwig. Hedwig nipped his ear affectionately, and Harry tossed her an owl treat. Satisfied, she flew back to her cage.

Harry opened the note first.

Dear Harry,

The item contained in the package is a pensieve. Yes, it is my own, but I feel that you might need it more than I do. I have left some memories I have of your parents for you to explore, and Remus has contributed a few for you as well. DO NOT use the pensieve to help you forget; that is quite possibly the worst thing you could do to yourself.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry sent Dumbledore a thank you, (and said sorry for destroying his office as a postscript), then eagerly opened the package. Sure enough, it contained Dumbledore's old pensieve.

He looked around, as if worried someone would see him, then prodded the silvery substance in the basin. It swirled, and Harry looked inside, and was pulled into the memory…


"Oi, Professor!" Harry whirled around to see his father, along with his mother, shout to Dumbledore. They were in Hogwarts, but it looked as though his father had already graduated.

"Yes, James?" Dumbledore asked.

"We're getting married! Want to come?"

James and Lily were both beaming. Harry wondered how they could be so happy together when they absolutely hated each other in their fifth year.

"Absolutely," replied Dumbledore, a touch of his smile on every wrinkled line on his face. "It's about time."

James grinned, and Lily flicked his ear. "You know how annoying it is when every night he comes up and tells me, 'I told you you'd fall in love with me.'" Lily asked Dumbledore. "He's such a prat."

"But it's true, isn't it?" James nagged her. Dumbledore chuckled lightly at the two's antics, and Lily rolled her eyes. "That's not it, by the way," James added to Dumbledore.

"We're expecting," said Lily, placing her hand on her stomach.

"Oh, really?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. "Congratulations."

They both smiled. "It's a boy, and we're naming him Harry. He's due in about seven months."

"And I'll bet he be awesome at Quidditch," said James. Lily rolled her eyes again, muttering about Quidditch obsessions.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I have no doubt that he will be. And a great wizard, too."

Lily smiled wistfully. "Yeah…he's going to be wonderful. I can feel it."

"Any child of mine is bound to be a great wizard," James replied. Lily laughed.

"If you say so."


The image swirled, and Harry found himself back in his room. He longed to watch another memory, but decided he'd rather save it for another day; he didn't want to watch all the memories at once.

Harry decided to put a memory of his own in it. He placed his wand to his temple, and concentrated hard on the prophecy. As he pulled the wand away from his head, a thin, silvery strand was attached to his wand. Harry put his wand into the pensieve, and the image of Trelawney swirled into the basin.

Harry realized that the memory itself seemed to be gone from his head. He remembered what the prophecy was, by word, but the picture of Trelawney's face was no longer there. Harry smiled, and was about to put every single painful memory of his into the swirling basin, but remembered Dumbledore's words.

Was he really depressed enough to throw his memory of Sirius's death into the pensieve, never to be looked at again? Harry stared at the pensieve, and decided he would rather remember.

Harry looked at the clock, noticing it was almost midnight. It would be his birthday soon. Harry sat patiently on his bed, and cleaned his glasses as he waited for the owls. As Harry slid his glasses back on his nose, he saw what looked like an excited brown tennis ball flying for his window. He quickly slid the window open, afraid that Pig would run into it.

Hedwig gave a hoot of abhorrence to the tiny, twittering owl that shot into the room and began to flutter around Harry's head.

Harry snatched pig out of the air as if it were a snitch, and ripped the letter and small package off of Pig's leg.

Harry,

Happy birthday! I can't wait for you to come next week; it's just not as fun without you. Hermione and I have found out quite a lot about You-Know-Who, Fred and George have invented undetectable extendable ears that can hear from a ten-foot radius. Its amazing they only got six Owls between them. Mum has seemed to change her mind about the whole joke shop thing ever since Fred and George brought home fifty galleons so mom could afford first-hand books and robes for us, for once. Fred and George have also helped me buy your birthday present, just so you know.

Cheers!

Ron

Harry opened the package and found a compact-sized foe glass. Shadowy figures moved inside of it, but Harry couldn't see the whites of any of their eyes. He sent Ron a thank you with Pig, and discovered another large tawny owl flying towards his window. There were two notes and three small packages, but it was a rather large owl and seemed to bear the load with ease. Harry untied the noted from it along with the packages, and sent the owl on its way. He unrolled Hermione's letter first.

Hey Harry!

Errol passed away, unfortunately, so this is the Weasley's new owl, Plato. Crookshanks seems to detest him, and I can't understand why; Plato is such a sweet bird. I hope you have had a wonderful birthday. Ron told me what he got you; I bet that would be very useful. I hope you find my gift useful as well. It is new, so you shouldn't have come across it yet.

I hope you're okay, and I can't wait for you to join us.

Love, Hermione

Hermione sent him a pocketbook (of course,) A Portable Guide on Defense and Strategy.

Mrs. Weasley sent him a card that sang Happy Birthday, along with a small cake and a box of cookies.

Soon, Harry was flooded by owls, and had gotten several books and dark-detector items. From the order, a book on Animagi and Metamophmagi, from Luna, a bracelet of Butterbeer caps, and Fred and George sent him an array of pranks.

From Ginny, he received watch much like the clock the Weasley's had, except the hands said the names, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna, and the hands were all set to 'home'. It was really hard to read considering the words were scrunched to fit, but if Harry looked close enough he could see the lettering just fine. He privately thought that it would be the most useful gift of them all.

Harry sent Ginny a very enthusiastic thanks, and asked her if she made it herself.

Overall, Harry felt he had a great birthday. Feeling much better than he had before, he flicked off the light and went to bed.

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Please review, and tell me what you think! Personally, I want to have a story I'm inclined to finish.