Chapter 1: Summer & Life Before the Burrow

Harry sighed.

Back again at Privet Drive, he felt less at home than anywhere else. Casting his eye around, Harry took it all in: the bleached, colourless walls; the small, cramped space; the shaggy carpet; - not even his brief stint in the Slytherin common room matched this. It was just so... so different to Hogwarts, so completely normal and dull, no vibrancy, no life, nothing. Harry wanted to cry out - seven weeks of this! Still, moping wouldn't do anything. He would just have to keep busy.

He was back in his room, alone, but he relished the privacy. Uncle Vernon had significantly backed off once he learned about Sirius... The thought of Sirius brought Harry great pain; it was not so long ago that Harry had been utterly convinced that he would be leaving the Dursleys and living with him for good, yet here he was. Harry mused. What would life be like with Sirius? Certainly nothing like this. Harry moved over to his trunk and began to unpack, not that he had much. Although he was rich in the wizarding world, Harry did not have much to show in terms of material possessions, besides a few choice presents from his close friends. Moving over to Hedwig, Harry paused. Would she be allowed out this summer? Frankly, Harry didn't care one iota what his 'family' (in the loosest sense of the word) thought, but the consequences could be dire. Would the threat of his crazy, murderous godfather trump his Uncle's rabid hate of everything magical? It was a risk.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a small squawk outside his window. He turned his head, and to his surprise, saw an owl, complete with letter attached. Harry frowned. Who would be writing to him, and so soon? He'd barely arrived home! The owl flapped its wings, impatient. Harry responded, amused.

"I suppose we better get you fed." Harry rummaged around in his trunk for his owl supplies and tossed the other a owl a few treats. Hedwig suddenly fixated on Harry and glared at him imploringly, as if to ask where her treats were. Harry threw her a few for good measure. The owl flapped its wings again, clearly wanting to leave. Harry took the letter and let it fly out again, closing the window after it.

The envelope only had 'Harry Potter' written on it, in neat, elegant cursive that Harry quickly identified as Hermione's. It read:

Dear Harry,

We just arrived back home and I thought I'd write. I'm staying with the Weasleys for a bit before I go on holiday with my parents - a reward for exams you see, they're very proud. I know you must be feeling awful about Sirius and Lupin, honestly Harry so do I. Ron and I thought it would be best to attach a small present, just to keep you busy. It's only small I'm afraid, we haven't had much of a chance to shop. Chin up!

Harry stopped reading for a second to look at what else was contained in the envelope. It was a small booklet about the England Quidditch team players and their stats. He grinned. Hermione chose well. Looking back at the letter, Harry continued reading.

Anyway, the Burrow is absolutely fabulous. I've never lived with a magical family before, so everything is new an amazing. You must come to visit soon - or at least that's what Ginny says. I won't make this too long Harry, I'm sure you will be very busy!

Lots of love,

Hermione.

PS: You wouldn't happen to know your telephone number, would you? Mr. Weasely has just purchased one (another one, yes - you know what he's like), and he's dying to try it out. The only thing is, they don't have any Muggle friends to try it on! I'm sure you'd love to telephone too. Best be off now Harry. Best wishes, and try not to let the Dursleys get you down!

Harry blanched. He could imagine what a conversation between Uncle Vernon and Mr. Wesley, and it wouldn't be pretty. Still, Hermione was right; he would jump at any opportunity to speak with his friends. To that end, Harry began to formulate his reply.

Dear Hermione,

Thank you very much for your present. The Burrow is great, isn't it! I will include a slip of paper with my phone number. Looking forward to your call!

He stared blankly at the letter. It sounded so cold and dispassionate. Not for the first time, Harry wished he had Hermione's ability at writing prose. Still, he should send it. There was only one thing: how would he sign off? He definitely wasn't going anywhere near 'Yours faithfully', but 'Best wishes' sounded a bit formal. Harry chewed his lip. Maybe he should copy Hermione? Still, 'Lots of love' sounded a bit weird coming from him, especially to a girl. After what felt like an age, Harry came to a decision. He would just sign with his name - it was a stupid thing to worry about. He finished the letter and gave it to Hedwig to send. She shook herself down, glad to be free of her cage. Harry let her nibble on a few more treats before sending her off with the letter. Eventually, Hedwig grew smaller and smaller until she became nothing more than a twinkle in the night sky. Once she was no longer visible, Harry felt a pang of sadness. She was his only connection to the wizarding world - the world he had left behind. A sense of loneliness washed over Harry. He tried not to be jealous of Hermione, and Ron too. But there was no point; he couldn't hold it against them as there was nothing they could do, and besides, they kept in contact best they could. Harry sighed again. It was going to be a long holiday.

The next few weeks dragged by. Harry was still used as a workhorse by his Uncle and Aunt, but they knew now not to push it. Likewise, Dudley became very afraid of Harry and refrained from his usual teasing. Snatching a break from the scrubbing, Harry stopped for a moment of reflection. These moments of quiet Harry spent struggling to complete his summer work, as well as exchanging correspondence with his friends. He knew they did not mean it, but the adventures they described filled Harry with a poisonous evny and bitter self-pity. It came as a surprise then when Harry received an owl from Ron inviting him to stay with his family, and to accompany them to the Quidditch World Cup. Of course, if it was up to Harry, he would already be gone. Therefore, he resolved he would at least try to butter Vernon up, and if that didn't work, he could always threaten him. Harry smirked, and went back to scrubbing with renewed vigour.

It was later that evening Harry decided to confront Veron. In the end, he went with an assertive approach. Approaching the living room (where Vernon sat watching the sports recap), Harry quietly steeled himself before speaking up.

"I've been invited to stay with a friend for the last part of summer." He called out into the room, hoping his voice sounded more secure than he felt. Truth be told, Harry didn't know what he would do if Vernon stopped him; he simply had to go. All his nerves were screaming, on fire, and were only exacerbated by his uncle's response.

"You have, have you?" His uncle teased him, clearly noticing Harry squirm. Vernon knew he held the power, and Harry was disgusted by the sadistic glee lighting up his face. "I assume they're all freaks like you then," he continued. Harry desperately wanted to shout out, to correct him - how dare he? But his wiser side prevailed and he held his tongue, his temper bubbling angrily under the surface.

"If you mean my school friends, then yes." Harry faltered for a second. It was hopeless; nothing magical nor Muggle could convince - let alone persuade - his uncle. Vernon turned back to the TV, and Harry's heart plummeted; the conversation was over. Just before he left the room, he was interrupted.

"I've half a mind to keep you here." Harry stayed silent, not knowing what to expect. Vernon would not face him, and stared intently at the TV. "Nothing good can happen when you freaks get together at one of your freakish gatherings. Still," Harry froze. "It's not like you're any good hanging around here." There was a moment of silence. "Go! Bother someone else! Good riddance, I say."

Harry didn't wait, he mumbled his thanks and extracted himself as best he could before Vernon could change his mind. He floated up the stairs, every step increasing his elation - he was going to the Quidditch World Cup! Better yet, he had a couple of weeks escape from the Dursleys with the Weasleys, and possibly Hermione to boot! Reaching his bedroom, his thoughts became more sombre. After all, there was still quite some time before he left, weeks in fact. Harry sat on his bed and gazed, longing, out of the window. At least he had something to look forward to.

At last, the day came. Harry had eagerly written to Ron to inform him of his uncle's decision, who had written back with instructions on his pickup and transport. He would be travelling with Mr. Weasley via Side-Along Apparation, a thought that filled him with a sense of apprehension and dread; he had heard the horror stories - people losing fingers, toes, sometimes even whole limbs! Still, Mr. Weasley would make it safe; he is an accomplished wizard, right?

Harry's trunk rattled as it bumped over the threshold and was wheeled down the drive. Harry turned around take one last look at what he was leaving behind - a boring, detached poly, shielded by shrubbery and painted in neutral tones; it was identical to the house next to it. And the next. Harry grinned. He wouldn't miss it, not at all. There was no pang of sadness as he turned away and rolled his trunk down the road, well, at least not in that sense.

A strange notion had bothered Harry over the summer, distracting him. The more he thought about it, the sillier it sounded. It was just - all the boys his age had suddenly taken a huge interest in the opposite sex; (hell, even Dudley had a girlfriend!) an interest that Harry did not share. He broke his line of thought; he liked plenty of girls - Cho for one came to mind. Harry definitely liked her, and he was sure there were others. A cold voice spoke to him from the back of his head; what are you trying to prove? Harry shuddered, and quickly pushed that thought away.

Harry eventually rounded the corner where Mr. Weasley was already waiting for him. Harry felt guilty; Ron's father was often busy and thus Harry appreciated him taking the time to personally accompany him; he did not want to keep him waiting. Harry began to voice his apology.

"Sorry sir, am I late?" Mr. Weasley smiled, and let out a hearty chuckle, filling Harry with warmth and ease.

"Come on Harry, you know very well I'm no 'sir', please, call me Arthur. And besides, waiting for you was a pleasure." He leaned down to Harry's ear and spoke softly, as if sharing a secret. "I've managed to glean some, uh, interesting information about you Muggles here on Privet Drive." A twinkle grew in his eye and Harry remembered his extraordinary passion for anything and everything Muggle. Harry didn't understand it, especially coming from a wizarding family, (which was altogether much more fascinating than anything Muggle) but it was infectious nonetheless. "Well," he continued. "Best be off then Harry. Grab my hand, will you - yes just like that. Try to hold on, wouldn't want you left stranded in a field!" Arthur chuckled, but Harry suspected he was trying to put him at ease. Trying to push the horror stories from his mind, Harry prepared himself for what was about to come.

Whatever Harry was expecting was immediately forgotten, along with every other thought he was having. An indescribable, searing pain spread from his extremities inwards; it was like having your fingers and toes lot of fire and left to spread inwards, only a lot faster. Eyes squeezed shut, Harry tried to focus on something to mitigate the pain: Ron, Hermione, his parents - all washed away by a white wall of pain. All of his senses were engulfed; he lost the feeling of Mr. Weasley's arm and thought he was lost, stranded in a field, or worse. Defeated, Harry wanted to scream - he couldn't. Just when it became too much, it stopped. Tentatively, Harry opened one eye, then two. His face broke into a grin.

He had arrived at the Burrow.

A/N: Thanks to the beautiful Espen for being a wondrous beta. As of today (2nd September), I've just started on chapter 3. Stay tuned!