The last three years are going to be much beefier stories than previous ones. I hope you're ready!

The summer of 1995 did not encompass a heatwave per se, but that did not make the hottest day of that year any easier to bear. Temperatures soared above thirty Celsius, and Privet drive was almost entirely deserted, at least the parts of the street which weren't indoors. It was in these conditions which Harry Potter found himself, lying underneath the kitchen window, in between the wall and a large bush which separated Number 4 from number 5 Privet Drive.

Harry thought he should be heartily congratulated on the quality of this hiding spot. The Dursleys would only spot him if they stuck their head out of the window and then proceeded to look directly downwards. He was listening in to the muggle news, but couldn't seem to hear anything of worth. Currently, the only thing playing on the television was a jingle advertising some fruity cereal.

He had been trying to watch the news in the living room, but only to receive nasty glares and snappish comments from Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

"Glad the boy's stopped trying to butt in. Where is he anyway?" asked Uncle Vernon, as if they had actually heard Harry's thoughts.

"Out of the house, but I don't know exactly where", said Aunt Petunia.

"And the other one?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"His self-defence lesson. He's so obsessed with being a ruffian", said Aunt Petunia distastefully. John had again been earning muggle money by delivering newspapers, thus funding his self-defence lessons while he couldn't train with Sirius or Ron. Harry though, just felt no motivation to do anything of the sort. John hadn't been particularly interested in the muggle news though, like Harry was. He had said that the muggle news would not say much about their world, certainly not about Voldemort, who had returned mere weeks prior.

Harry disagreed, maintaining that if there were warnings on the muggle news, then things were getting dire. Thankfully, no such warnings were to be found. In any case, the only news John seemed to be waiting for were letters from anyone from the wizarding world. Ron, Hermione and Delilah's letters were simply put, infuriatingly cryptic.

"Watching the news" Uncle Vernon scoffed. "As if boys his age are interested in the news. Dudley doesn't care at all, I doubt he even knows who the Prime Minister is! It's not like there'd be anything about his lot on our news-" Uncle Vernon started.

"Vernon, the windows are open" Aunt Petunia hissed.

"Oh yes... Sorry dear", said Uncle Vernon.

Both Dursley adults fell silent, and Harry listened to advertisement after advertisement, whilst watching the elderly Mrs. Figg across the street, walking slowly and muttering something angrily to herself. Harry was glad that he was hiding - Mrs. Figg had been inviting him and John over for tea with increasing frequency. Perhaps she was just getting too old and lonely, but it was far from Harry's idea of productive or fun.

"Dudders is out for tea then?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"Yes, at the Polkisses" said Aunt Petunia. "He has so many friends our Duddikins, he's ever so popular-" she said, before loudly gushing about Dudley and her pride for him, knowing the window was open.

Harry resisted the urge to scoff. They were both rather stupid about Dudley. More stupid still about Delilah, but Harry was thankful that Delilah was away with the others. Dudley however, was giving dim-witted lies about being off to tea with another one of his gang members every evening, but Harry knew very well that they weren't having tea. They were vandalising parks, terrorising smaller children, throwing stones at cars and smoking round street corners.

They knew better than to do any of that near the youth centre where John took his self-defence classes. All of them were afraid of him. The thought always made Harry smirk, knowing that Dudley's gang were now afraid of Harry, simply knowing that John wouldn't take anything of the sort lying down. Harry often saw them at their questionable activities though, seeing them as he spent most of the holidays wandering the streets, scavenging newspapers from bins.

Harry shuffled closer to the wall, listening out for any further news developments, but unfortunately, the most exciting thing he heard was about a baggage handler strike at Gatwick.

All of a sudden, a deafening crack like a gunshot burst from a spot about thirty feet from Harry, who bolted to his feet, wand trained on that spot.

"Put-that-away!" Came Uncle Vernon's angry, desperate voice. Harry hastily stuffed his wand back into his jeans. A few faces were staring at him through their windows.

"Lovely day!" Uncle Vernon said in a falsely cheerful voice to Mrs. Number seven, who lived opposite them. "That car backfiring gave Petunia and I a right shock!" he said, and the many faces staring at Harry backed off into their houses.

"What the devil are you up to?" Uncle Vernon asked, when the coast was clear. "Making that noise!"

"I didn't make that noise" Harry said flatly.

Aunt Petunia chose that moment to force her horse-like face through the window. It always amazed Harry how his beautiful, good-natured cousin came from such an unpleasant pair.

"What were you doing under the window?" she asked.

"Listening to the news" Harry said in an uninterested voice which sounded more like the tone of Draco Malfoy than he'd have cared to admit.

"Again?" Uncle Vernon asked furiously.

"Well... it does change every day", said Harry, who cursed himself for being so cheeky when the Dursleys were already in a foul mood. John was rubbing off on him.

"Don't get smart with me boy! Tell us what you're really up to, not this listening to the news rubbish! Your lot don't show up on-" Uncle Vernon started.

"Careful Vernon!" Aunt Petunia said, causing Uncle Vernon to lower his voice.

"You lot don't show up on our news!" he whispered furiously.

"As far as you know" Harry said defiantly.

"You're a nasty little liar", said Aunt Petunia after a few seconds of goggling at him. "What are all those owls doing then, coming to your room?" she asked.

"Aha! Get out of that one boy! What are they doing?" Uncle Vernon asked triumphantly.

"They aren't sending me news" Harry said, tonelessly, not wanting to think about his frustration with Ron, Hermione or Delilah.

"I don't believe you", said Aunt Petunia instantly.

"Nor do I", said Uncle Vernon. "You're up to something. I want to know what it is, and you'd better tell us now. We aren't stupid", said Uncle Vernon forcefully.

"That's the most interesting news I've heard all day", said Harry nastily, not caring about the consequences of his being rude.

Before the Dursleys could call Harry back, he turned around, hopped the fence and set off onto the streets, ignoring their angered yells. He knew they wouldn't particularly care by the time he got back. Either way, John's lesson ended about five minutes ago and he'd be getting ready to walk back home by now. Furthermore, he knew that sound. It wasn't a gunshot, nor was it a car backfiring.

It sounded like apparating or disapparating. It was the exact sound Harry had heard whenever Dobby the house elf snapped his fingers and appeared or disappeared from any given area. Was Dobby with him at Privet Drive? Was he being tailed by the elf? He doubted it, he didn't think Dobby could turn himself invisible.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the route he was taking - he'd been aimlessly roaming the streets for three weeks straight now, and his feet automatically took him to his favourite areas without thought. He found himself glancing over his shoulder, or darting his eyes around the nearby area. Someone magical had been near him, he knew it. But why hadn't they said something? Why were they hiding? Where were they hiding?

Before long though, a sinking feeling overcame Harry. Maybe there wasn't anyone magical there after all. Maybe it was just a car backfiring. He could have just been overly desperate for contact from the wizarding world, to the point where his mind would play such tricks on him. Worse still, he knew he'd be woken early tomorrow morning to a copy of the daily prophet, only to find no mention of Voldemort. Any killings or signs of his activities would be front page news, and he hadn't seen anything of the sort.

What were the idiots running that paper playing at? And what were Ron, Hermione and Delilah playing at? Insisting that they couldn't say anything, that they'd tell him when he arrived. They were probably talking about the burrow or Sirius' house in muggle London. The thought of all of them enjoying themselves, together, as opposed to him or John being stuck in Privet Drive made Harry's temper flare once again. They'd also said they were busy, but what with?

Why wasn't he busy? He was the one who Voldemort was after and he was the one who'd clashed with him directly. Harry forced himself to stop thinking of that night. Having nightmares, watching Cedric die, or John tortured by the cruciatus curse again and again was bad enough without it consuming his thoughts whilst awake. Harry turned the corner onto Magnolia Crescent, where he'd first locked eyes (unknowingly) with Sirius.

Sirius, who seemed to understand how he was feeling. His letters, whilst admittedly equally sparse on news, at least contained consolation and advice. 'I know this is frustrating to you', or 'keep your nose down, everything will be alright'. His letters also contained a bit of bad news, unrelated to Voldemort, but noteworthy all the same. Whatever they were up to, the adults, had forced Sirius to spend less and less time with Lauren, prompting her to break up with him. The worst part was when Sirius directly quoted her.

"I still love you, but I can't do this any more"

Without a doubt, that would have stung Sirius and quite badly too. Harry remembered what seeing Cho with Cedric was like, and knew that for Sirius, it would have been worse. This line of thought however, led Harry to start thinking of how Sirius at least had company. Remus, Delilah, probably Ron and Hermione at least on occasion...

Harry eventually reached a park which he frequented, due in no small part to the fact that Dudley's gang had broken so many of the apparatus that no one else went there any more. Harry perched himself on the only swing that hadn't been broken yet, trying to think of another way for him to listen to the news later - he could no longer hide in the flowerbed under the window.

"You're doing a damn good job of playing the chronic tragic hero that Skeeter wanted you to be right now", came a familiar, but welcome voice. Harry looked behind him and saw John. He had seen him just that morning, but in the wake of his day being progressively more depressing, he was an extremely welcome sight.

He had now grown to stand just a hair under six feet tall, and was still built like the bear he could transform into at will. Harry too had grown and stood roughly an inch or two shorter than John, though not half as muscular, due to his lack of motivation.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Just... everything", Harry grunted.

"Right... very specific", said John dryly.

It was infuriating how John could stay so positive when he was in the same situation that Harry was in. Where was the rage? The frustration?

"I don't need your damn sarcasm right now", Harry snapped. John merely raised an eyebrow. Harry wanted to vent his rage at someone else... anyone, and the fact that John didn't appear even mildly irritated irked Harry to no end.

"I've been telling you all summer, you need to come with me to the youth centre. Trust me, I've been as angry as you sometimes. Those classes are great for that", John explained.

"Don't feel like it" Harry grumbled.

John sighed.

"And that's your problem. You have problems Harry, I have them too, but you just want to sit around and wallow in your own grief, feeling sorry for yourself. You're not helping anyone with that shit" John said bluntly.

Harry gawked at John furiously. How dare he? He was in just as bad a state as he, Harry was after everything happened in the graveyard! Who did he think he was?

"You were just as bad as I was after... Cedric. What are you on about?" Harry growled.

"True, I was. But am I now?" John challenged calmly.

Harry paused.

"Look, the youth centre is full of kids with problems too. Kids who live in council houses, afraid of being dragged into gang violence, drugs... all sorts of horrific crap. They all love that youth centre, and the physical activities there really let you forget about the crap going on in your life. The point is... if you have problems, you solve them. You don't wallow. Keep this up and you could see Cho fucking Chang and all you'll want to do is yell at her too. She won't enjoy it as much as I do", said John, grinning at Harry.

John's incessant positive attitude was infuriating, but he was making sense. Harry sighed.

"Fine. I'll... I'll think about doing something else. Might come with you" Harry relented.

"Knew you'd appreciate this a bit of tough love", said John, affectionately wrapping an arm around Harry and pulling him off the swing.

In spite of himself, Harry smiled.

"Back home then. Hermione might have sent her reply. Might get some clues off her", said John in a faraway voice which told Harry that John didn't particularly care what Hermione told him, so long as he heard something from her. Thinking of Cho Chang, Harry knew how he was feeling. Smirking, he followed John out of the park.

However, as soon as they hopped the fence and exited the park, they saw four figures. All six of the people present recognized each other. It was Dudley's gang.

Dudley had lost an immense amount of weight since he was thirteen or fourteen years old. He was, as Uncle Vernon always boasted, now a junior heavyweight boxing champion for schools in the South-East of England. They called it a noble sport, far more noble than what John did, which in essence, was functional fighting, how to quickly incapacitate assailants. Harry could see the double standard easily.

He also took some vindictive pleasure in the looks on their faces upon recognizing John. A week ago, John had caught them picking on a twelve year old boy and his eleven year old sister, resulting in a fight in which Dudley's gang where left on the floor, groaning in pain, and John came out with only a bloody nose, lip and a few minor bruises. Dudley was still sporting the black eye from that fight. He had explained to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that he had merely tripped and landed badly.

"Beat up another ten year old then?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"This one was asking for it. Gave me cheek" Dudley challenged, trying to put up a brave front.

"Yeah, great reason to physically punch a kid. What if I gave you a bit of cheek big D? Want to give me what I have coming?" John asked calmly.

Dudley stuttered and his three cronies took a couple of steps back. Harry could see that they were still sporting a few bruises as well.

"Relax, I don't want to fight. Not unless you princesses make me", said John.

It was obvious that they wanted to retort, but were holding their tongues. They reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy and his gang, but more cowardly and more prone to outright bullying as opposed to antagonizing people of equal stature.

"Real hard, aren't you Potter? Hiding behind your brother?" snarled Piers Polkiss, Dudley's rat-faced friend.

"I don't need him to make you squeal Polkiss" Harry snapped back, before John put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Come on. We're all heading the same way, right? No need to bite each others' heads off", said John, an evil grin spreading over his face. He knew that all four of them being so close to him as they walked would make them squirm.

Harry noticed within five minutes of walking, John was right. Dudley's gang were completely silent, shooting sideways glances at Harry and John, and they all muttered their goodbyes to Dudley quietly, and Dudley, Harry and John were on their own, making their way through a shortcut to Privet Drive. It was poorly lit, and included some questionable looking alleyways, but they wanted to get back into the house as quickly as possible, so they could be apart from each other.

"So when did the whole 'big D' thing come about anyway?" John asked sweetly. Harry tried his hardest not to laugh, but still smirked.

"Shut up" Dudley said immediately.

"I mean... surely your friends know about the other ones?" Harry added.

"Yeah, Harry, what were they again, remind me", said John.

"Oh, there was err... Ickle Diddykins, wasn't there? Popkin was another one", said Harry.

"I said Shut up", said Dudley, starting to raise his voice.

"You're forgetting the best one", said John, raising an eyebrow. Harry was greatly enjoying the feeling of watching Dudley's temper flare whilst knowing he wouldn't dare attack either of them, let alone both of them.

"Oh of course! Dinky Diddydums!" said Harry.

It was clearly taking every ounce of self-control on Dudley's part not to lash out and hit them at this stage.

"So who was the poor kid this time? I know you did Mark Evans a couple of days ago while John was out", said Harry.

"Oh really?" John asked in a threatening voice.

Dudley shrank before him. Some boxing champion, Harry thought.

"How old was that guy you beat for the championship anyway? Seven? Eight?" Harry asked.

"Sixteen for your information, and he was twice your weight! He was out cold for twenty minutes when I was done with him" Dudley shot back.

"And yet you're terrified of either of us. Don't make hollow threats Dud. Very unbecoming of a boxing champion" John said mockingly.

"What was this kid's cheek this time then? Did he say you looked like a pig that'd been taught to walk on two legs? That's not cheek you know, that's just the truth", said Harry nastily. John was right. Venting frustration was incredibly satisfying, even if what he was doing now wasn't as constructive as what the youth centre provided.

Dudley stayed silent for a few seconds before responding.

"Think you're big men carrying those things around?" he asked.

"We both know I don't need it to deal with you" said John in a tired voice.

"At least I'm not afraid of my pillow", said Dudley.

Harry frowned.

"What're you on about?" he asked.

Dudley's lips curled into a nasty smile.

"Don't kill Cedric! Boo hoo! No, dad, he's going to kill me too!" Dudley cried mockingly.

John stayed silent, forcing himself to contain his anger, but Harry did no such thing.

"Shut up!" He snarled.

"Who is Cedric? Is he your boyfriend?" Dudley asked, the same evil grin adorning his face.

Harry didn't hesitate, and he pulled his wand out, pointing it straight at Dudley's chin, the fourteen years worth of hatred towards Dudley coursing through his veins. Dudley paled.

"Put that away!" he yelled.

"Don't. Mention. That. Again" Harry snarled.

"Point it somewhere else at least!" Dudley cried.

"Do you understand? You won't mention that ever again!" Harry growled louder.

John grabbed Harry's arm and yanked it downwards and gave him a warning look, but before anything else could be done, something out of the three boys' control began to happen. The air around them began to get colder, a thick fog began to envelop the surrounding area, and they felt surrounded by some unknown and impenetrable darkness.

For a moment Harry thought he was performing accidental magic, but reason caught up with him. He didn't have the power to alter the very weather around them and create a micro climate. No, something else was at play.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Dudley whimpered.

"Nothing! This isn't me!" Harry yelled.

The cold that was enveloping got progressively worse, to the point where goosebumps appeared on their skin. No... they couldn't be here... not in Little Whinging!

"I-I'll tell dad!" Dudley whimpered again.

"This isn't us Dudley, now shut up! We need to listen!" John snapped.

Dudley looked terrified but obeyed. John and Harry exchanged looks of fear. The same thing was now on both of their minds, and they both raised their wands.

The cold was coming from more than one direction, which meant that there was more than one. Dudley however, began to panic, and to Harry and John's horror, began to bolt.

"DUDLEY STOP! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!" Harry yelled.

Dudley skidded to a halt, but the abrupt shift in speed forced him off balance and Dudley fell to the ground.

Harry and John both stared in shock as two huge dementors flew straight at Dudley. The international statue of secrecy be damned, this was a good enough reason to use their wands.

"Expecto Patronum!"

As before, a great silver stag and huge silver bear erupted forth from their wands, charging down the dementors, forcing them to flee. Harry and John both rushed towards Dudley. He was curled up in a ball, mumbling incoherently, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock. What were dementors doing there? Why attack Dudley?

The moon, stars and nearby streetlamps popped back to life, and the warm, summer breeze began to refill the area. John grabbed Dudley and hauled him to his feet, but Dudley, it seemed, wasn't in a state to be doing anything, let alone standing on his feet. John pushed Dudley against a wall and examined him. Dudley's eyes weren't following John's face, they were just staring blankly ahead.

"Is... is it gone?" he asked, shaking violently.

John blinked and then stared at him.

"Did... you see it?" John asked. As far as he was aware, muggles couldn't see dementors.

Dudley shook his head.

"Something was there..." he said, still shaking violently.

"Yeah, it's gone... come on", said John, trying to get Dudley to walk. However, Dudley simply wouldn't, he just slumped back against the wall, shaking.

"I'm not going to have to carry him am I?" John asked, looking at Harry.

"You might..." said Harry uncomfortably.

John nodded and with no small amount of effort, picked Dudley up and carried him over his shoulder.

"I can help" Harry said lamely.

"No, if those things come back, we need you with your wand out", said John, grunting with the effort of carrying someone as big as him. Harry agreed on that front, though Harry wanted to cringe with every step that John took. He had no idea how John didn't collapse every time one of his feet left the ground. Both he and Dudley must have weighed around ninety kilos each.

"We're not that far off from Privet Drive anyway" John added.

Before long, and to both Harry and John's surprise, the rounded the corner to see Mrs. Figg, with a crazed look on her face.

"Keep that wand ready! Oh, I am going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"