CHAPTER 1: The Boy Who Lived

It was a quiet day in Surrey, a very strange occurrence for the inhabitants of Private Drive. They had gotten used to the tirades coming from the delinquent nephew living at number 4 the previous summers. Yet as of late it seemed strangely quiet.

The reason for this was that the delinquent nephew, famed wizard Harry Potter, was finally being left alone after Mad Eye Moody, named after his magical electric blue eye which swiveled in his head to give him 360 degrees of visibility, threatened his Uncle about the boy's happiness. Whether it was due to this or because of Harry's dark mood that he was being left alone and given full portions for meals, Harry would never know.

Sprawled out on his bed in his locked room, Harry was flipping through a book containing pictures of the parents he never knew. He had taken to looking at this book because it also contained the one and only picture he possessed of his Godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to a father, but he died in a battle at the Ministry of Magic while trying to save Harry. It pained Harry to realize that this man died because of his stupidity, because he wanted to "act the hero".

He had been receiving letters from his best friends, Ron and Hermione, as well as other Gryffindors in his year, even Ron's siblings had been trying to get in touch with him. He had read all of the letters, and he decided for some reason to save them all, but he couldn't bring himself to respond to them. Part of him felt that talking about it would seal Sirius' fate, and if he never said anything it meant he wasn't really dead. The other part of him wanted to listen to reason, but he felt guilty about trying to take the blame off of himself.

When he wasn't reading or re-reading the letters from his friends, or looking at his book of pictures, Harry was flipping through all of his old spell books, doing his best to remember and master the spells that would help him defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters, especially Bellatrix Lestrange. However these books did not help him nearly as much as he would have liked to, they were not new, powerful spells like he needed. On top of that he couldn't even practice the spells because he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he totally missed the knock on the door.

"HARRY!" came the booming voice of Harry's Uncle Vernon, a mentally and physically thick muggle. "OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Harry considered ignoring his uncle or yelling back, but thought better of it. He swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor and walked slowly to the door, trying to remember to keep his temper in check.

"Yea?" he asked casually as he opened the door to reveal his Uncle's red face. "What do you want?"

"Your Petunia, Dudley, and I," started Vernon, remembering to keep his calm, "will be going on a trip to France for the remainder of the summer. You will not be accompanying us."

"How'd you afford that? Win another contest did you?" Harry snorted, reminding Vernon of how the previous summer witches and wizard's from the Order of the Phoenix tricked them into thinking they won England's best kept suburban lawns contest.

"As a matter of fact yes, boy, we did. However I have double checked and found out that these tickets are not fake, I doubt that your kind would be smart enough to fake these anyway." Vernon retorted.

"When are you leaving?" Harry asked, choosing to drop the argument.

"We will be leaving this weekend. That should give you enough time to make plans as to where you will spend the rest of the summer, because you won't spend three months here alone. I know I can't tell you this is not your home, but I can tell you I don't trust you alone in this house."

Harry looked at him for a minute before simply saying, "OK" and closing the door in his uncle's face. He had his choice of where to live for the rest of the summer. He wasn't sure he wanted to be at Sirius' old house, he wasn't even sure he wanted to spend time with his friends. He finally had the ability to go anywhere he wanted, and he almost wished he could stay home alone.

Harry sat on his bed going over the options in his head. He could go to Sirius' house, he could go to the Burrow, maybe even to the Granger's house. But he didn't want to hear how last year wasn't his fault, he needed to stay with someone who wouldn't judge him, who knew what he was going through and might know what he wanted. The thought struck him after a few minutes, Dumbledore.

He could get in touch with his headmaster, he may have an idea as to where he could go. Dumbledore admitted having fault in Sirius' death, and must know what he had been going through these past 2 weeks. Despite the fact that Harry was mad at the old man, he knew that he may have done the same. Albus cared too much for him, something that may prove horrible in the end, when Harry had to come face to face with Voldemort.

Harry got a quill and piece of parchment out of his trunk and began to scribble a note.

Professor Dumbledore,

I am sorry for all the trouble I gave you last year after the Ministry of Magic.

I still don't really know how I should react, but I realize that I have no choice but to trust you. I wanted to ask you where I should stay for the rest of the summer. I

don't think going to Snuffles' house is such a good idea, I'm also not so sure I

want to spend much time with Hermione or Ron right now. I almost got both of them

killed and I don't want to hear that they don't care about the danger. Because that

is what I will bring them, danger and death. The Dursleys are leaving in 4 days,

I would appreciate an answer as soon as you can get me one.

-HARRY

Harry read through his letter and realized that he had written down feelings that he really didn't want to talk about. But he decided to send it anyway. He opened Hedwig's cage and the snowy owl climbed out onto his arm gently.

"er- I'm not sure where Dumbledore spends his summer. But can you get this to him? It's important." The owl gave him an affectionate nip on the finger before hooting and flying out through his window. Harry watched her until he couldn't see anymore, then went back to reading his friends' letters.

The next morning Harry awoke to screams. He could hear Petunia's scream one second, then all of a sudden it was silent. Harry put on his glasses and grabbed his wand, not knowing what was happening, but not really caring. He threw open his door and ran down the steps two at a time. He arrived in the living room to find his Aunt breathing heavily and staring at the couch across from her, where an old man with twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard sat smiling.

"Ah, Harry. Needless to say I received your letter. I think I may have startled your Aunt here when I apparated behind her."

"er- I was expecting a letter professor, not you." Harry realized how cold he sounded and quickly added, "I mean I'm just surprised to see you here."

"I see that." He responded softly. Harry suddenly remembered that Dumbledore was a "sufficiently accomplished" legilimens, which coming from him meant he had it mastered. "However I thought that it would be best for me to introduce you to the man that I think you should stay with for a while. If you pack up your belongings I will bring you to his house right now."

"Could you, er, tell me who he is Professor?" Harry asked nervously.

"Of course, I completely forgot, I must be getting old." Dumbledore started with a twinkle in his eyes. Harry knew the man was as brilliant as ever. "You will know him as Professor McClaggan, and he will be your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher this year. He is Scottish, and has considerable talents away from magic, and he will be teaching you these as well." Dumbledore saw Harry's confused look and added, "No not your whole class, just you. And it is not my place to tell you any more. Go get ready."

Harry left his headmaster sitting on the couch in his living room across from his hysterical aunt. He ran back up the steps to his room and started throwing all his books and clothes into his trunk. He had packed his room in a matter of minutes before dragging the trunk down to the living room where his headmaster was sitting, now alone, on the couch.

"Before I send you on your way I should give you this." He handed Harry a letter with the Hogwarts Crest on it. Before Harry could respond he picked up a shot glass that was in a cabinet up on top of the refrigerator. "This will do quite nicely." He said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pulled his wand out of his robes and whispered, "Portus" and tapped the glass once with his wand. "Have a good time Harry, study hard." He tossed the shot glass towards Harry and Disapparated with a loud pop. Harry caught the glass and felt the familiar tug behind his navel.

When he landed he felt his legs come out from under him. In an effort to hold onto his trunk the glass that was in his hand flew across the room. Just before it hit the wall he saw a man, wearing a dark green cloak, lift one hand and catch the glass in a smooth motion.

"Shoulda known Albus would find this funny, I never touch the stuff, but my people were famous for it," he said in a deep Scottish brogue. His voice was very quiet and Harry had to strain to hear him. He looked around to see that he was in what seemed like an old shack. When he looked back to the wall where the man was standing he found that it was empty.

"Up ya get, boy," came the quiet voice from behind him. The man picked Harry up with ease and set him on his feet. "I'm McClaggan, no need for the professor 'til school starts. I'll explain everything to you shortly, but first I'll show you to your room." The man picked up Harry's trunk and carried it swiftly and elegantly up the wooden staircase. Harry followed quickly behind him, but found it hard to keep up with his Professor's silent footsteps.