Chapter 1: Pierce Polkis Chapter 1: Pierce Polkis

Tension hung in the air at Number 4, Privet Drive. The Dursleys, after many tantrums from Dudley, were going on vacation to Paris, and were not happy at leaving Harry behind.

"I'm not leaving him in the house by himself", Aunt Petunia had declared flatly. "Who knows what damage his kind can cause? Do you remember the dinner with the Masons? When this boy destroyed my pudding? Or when he blew Marge up? I don't want to come back to a smashed up house. Can't we leave him with his own kind?"

"Petunia, you know there is nothing we can do", Uncle Vernon had replied, shooting a glance filled with loathing at Harry. "Mrs. Figg refuses to watch him for two whole weeks, and I don't blame her. Those wierdos that he calls friends are nowhere to be found, and of course, Marge wants nothing to do with him. Mr. Polkis has agreed to slip some food through the mail slot every day, and has promised to call us at the first sign of trouble. I'm not saying I'm happy with the arrangements, but Dudley wants to see Paris, don't you son?"

Dudley, who surprisingly had managed to be silent until then, had nodded. "Pierce is planning to go next year", he had said, his small beady eyes glinting. "And I want to go first. I can't believe you care more about what he might do to the house that taking me to Paris." And with that, he had waddled out of the room in a huff.

This was Dudley's new way of getting what he wanted – not talking to his parents until he got his own way. He had used this weapon all summer, and so far, it caused Aunt Petunia to abandon the diet she was forced to put Dudley on, and Uncle Vernon had agreed to teach him how to drive. It worked that time too, Aunt Petunia's eyes had filled with tears, and she had cried after Dudley, "Of course we can go to Paris, Dudleydums, we'll figure out what to do with this boy."

So the Dursleys were going to Paris, and Harry had been locked in the house. Not that he minded, he could do his homework in peace without worrying that Uncle Vernon was going to lock his spell books in the cupboard underneath the stairs, he could let Hedwig out of her cage so she could stretch her wings, and he could, for a change, have a birthday without the Dursleys either complaining about him, or pretending he wasn't there.

Harry would have had the time of his life had he not been worrying about something Uncle Vernon had said. Uncle Vernon had been unable to contact the Weasleys, and Harry himself had owled Ron twice so far this summer, without getting a reply. He had assumed in the beginning that Ron was just busy, or that he couldn't use Errol, or something like that, but what if something serious had happened?

What if the Weasleys were in trouble with the Ministry of Magic because they were helping Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort? At the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, when Dumbledore announced to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that Voldemort had regained his power, the Weasleys had said they knew what to do. What if that was something the Ministry disapproved of, or worse, that they had specifically forbidden? The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had been stubborn in insisting that Voldemort had not returned to power, and Dumbledore had announced that he intended to do what it took to prevent the Dark Lord's rise.

Harry didn't like the idea of the Weasleys being part of Dumbedore's supporters, and taking on the Minister of Magic. What if Mr.Weasley somehow lost his job, it would then be all Harry's fault. His blood was one of the things that caused Voldemort to regain his power, and though the logical part of Harry's mind insisted that it wasn't anything he could have prevented, Harry was tormented with his part in the Dark Lord's resurrection.

Or worse still, what if Voldemort had attacked the Weasleys? Harry wished for the thousandth time that he had subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Normally, it wasn't too bad to be out of contact with the wizarding world, but when Voldemort was slowly returning to power, he really felt helpless sitting at the Dursleys, not knowing what was going on.

In fact, he had received only two letters since the start of the summer holidays. One was a short note from Hermione, writing excitedly that her parents were taking her to Romania so she could do some research on vampires.

"Vampires are considered Dark Creatures,", she had written, sounding as usual like she was reciting out of a textbook, "but then, so are werewolves, and look at Prof. Lupin. Prof. Dumbledore believes that there are no Dark or Light Creatures, and that every one makes a conscious choice to embrace good or evil. I've done some reading, and I can't find any vampires that renounced their Dark powers, but maybe in Romania, I can find out more. In any case, we don't know much about vampires, and it would be great if I can find out something interesting about them for my holiday Dark Arts research project.

What are you researching? Don't forget to do your project, Prof. Mc.Gonagall hinted that our research projects would be useful for our coursework this year.I wonder who our new Defense against Dark Arts professor is going to be? Do you think Prof. Dumbledore would ask Prof. Lupin to return? I really hope so. We need all the Defense against Dark Arts knowledge we can get.

I will see you the day before the start of term at Diagon Alley. Want to meet me at Flourish and Blotts? Owl Ron and let him know too.

Your friend,

Hermione.

The other was from Hagrid. His note was even shorter, and definitely more somber in tone.

Harry,

I'm leaving for the North today, Prof. Dumbledore thinks it is urgent we contact the giants as soon as possible, and I'm goin' ta meet my ma. Don't go mentioning this to anyone – it is top-secret – and the only reason I'm tellin' you at all is that I don't want you owlin' me when I'm up North. The giants don't react well to owls, and the Ministry might track the owl.

Be careful. There are all kinds of rumors circulating about You-Know-Who. You are being protected by Prof. Dumbledore as long as you stay with your Muggle relatives. It is best for you ter stay out of touch with the wizarding world for the summer.

Hagrid.

PS: I've sent you some treacle tarts just in case those dratted Muggles you live with are starving you again.

Between Hagrid's warnings about keeping a low profile, and Ron's continuing silence, Harry half wished the Dursleys were still at home. Aunt Petunia would have given him enough work that he would have not had a spare moment to worry. He could have teased Dudley by mumbling pretend spells under his breath when he was near, and even Uncle Vernon's diatribes about the state of the government, inflation, and whatnot would have distracted him.

After the Dursleys had been away for about a week, Harry's worries had reached a fever pitch and he decided he had had enough. Although it was dangerous, he would owl Sirius. Hagrid hadn't explicitly told him not to but he had been avoiding writing to Sirius, heeding Sirius' warning about not owling him using Hedwig. But the circumstances were serious. He had to find out what was going on with the Weasleys, and he couldn't think of anyone else to contact. Hermione was away, Hagrid could not be contacted, and he felt foolish writing to Prof. Dumbledore for reassurance. Sirius was the only person he could think of who he could write to and not feel foolish about his anxieties. He took out his quill and a piece of parchment, and chewed thoughtfully on the end of his quill for a moment.

Sirius was inclined to worry about Harry, and he didn't want Sirius to know he was alone in the Dursleys's house. Harry was afraid that that would make Sirius do something stupid, like come and visit him, and despite the poor opinion the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge had of Harry, he was sure the Ministry was keeping his house under surveillance.

So he needed to get his questions about the Weasleys and Voldemort answered, but in a manner that didn't arouse any suspicion from Sirius. He thought hard for a couple of minutes, and finally wrote,

Dear Sirius,

I hope you are doing well.

Have you heard from the Weasleys all summer? I haven't heard from Ron. I did get a letter from Hermione though, she was planning to go to Romania with her parents.

The Dursleys are not as bad as usual – they leave me alone a lot, and I appreciate the peace and quiet. Also, Dudley is not dieting any more, thank goodness, so I don't have to eat any more grapefruit or celery.

Reply soon,

Your godson,

Harry.

"They leave me alone a lot", Harry said out aloud, as Hedwig gave him an indignant look. "I'm not lying to him, they do leave me alone a lot." Hedwig hooted, unconvinced, but took the rolled up piece of the parchment and flew away. Harry hadn't been writing many letters over the summer, and she looked glad she had something to do.

Two days passed by, and Harry still hadn't heard back from Sirius. Hedwig had returned in less than a day, which lead Harry to believe that Sirius was somewhere close by. He had almost finished his homework, except for his Defense Against Dark Arts research, for which he couldn't think of anything to write about. He had also polished his Firebolt (he was now polishing it daily, for want of anything better to do), and cleaned out Hedwig's cage.

Mr. Polkiss had come by in the morning, as he had done every day since the Dursleys left. He never talked to Harry, Harry had a feeling he was afraid of him. His aunt and uncle had told everyone they knew that Harry went to St. Brute's school for Incurably Bad Boys, and Mr. Polkiss probably didn't want anything to do with an Incurably Bad Boy. He didn't really leave Harry very much to eat - half a loaf of bread, a can of soup and some stale cheese, but to Harry, who was used to not getting very much to eat at the Dursleys, this seemed a normal amount of food. He didn't even have to feed Hedwig with it. Hedwig never cared very much for the food he ate and since she was free to fly about, she preferred to hunt for herself. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia wasn't at home to screech about the dead rats (and one dead frog) she brought in.

Despite his worries about the Weasleys, Voldemort and now Sirius, Harry was feeling excited – tomorrow was his birthday. Until Harry was eleven, he had had extremely horrid birthdays, the Dursleys's ideas of presents were old socks, safety pins, or – if he was lucky, a penny. But since Harry had discovered he was a wizard, things had definitely taken a turn for the better. His eleventh birthday had been the happiest day of his life – he had found out he was a wizard that day when Hagrid had brought him his Hogwarts letter, and Hagrid had taken him shopping at Diagon Alley, where he realized how famous he was in the wizarding world. None of his subsequent birthdays had been quite as spectacular, but he generally got really good presents from Ron, Hermione and his godfather Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley always sent him something delicious to eat.

Harry wished fervently that this year would be the same. He didn't really want presents that much, but he desperately wanted to hear from Ron and Sirius. Apart from being desperately worried about them, he was getting quite tired of being on his own, and hopefully, Ron would ask him to stay.

Going to bed was hard. Since Aunt Petunia wasn't around to wake him up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for Dudley, Harry had fallen into the habit of staying awake late at night, and getting up late. He walked around the house a couple of times rather aimlessly, and then he decided to polish his wand. Harry had been embarrassed last year at the Triwizard Tournament, when all the contestants except him had polished, well-maintained wands, and he had resolved then to take better care of his own wand. He headed up the stairs, went into his bedroom and retrieved his wand from the cupboard. Just as he was doing that, his eyes fell on the clock by his bedside.

"11.58pm", he said. "Fancy starting my birthday polishing my wand."

Hedwig, who had been busy poking at the dead frog, hooted softly. She had been out all day, flying out as soon as she had returned from delivering Harry's letter to Sirius, and had just returned a half-hour ago. Harry supposed she was visiting some other owls. "She must be pretty bored", he thought, ", its not like I've given her a lot to do so far."

He decided to polish his wand in the kitchen, and clattered down the stairs, counting the seconds to go till his birthday, as he liked to do every year.

"Seven… six… five…", Harry muttered, jumping over the creaky stair, "four… three… two… one…"

Just as he counted "one…", the front door burst open with a crash. Standing framed in the door, smirking slightly was Piers Polkiss.

Harry who had started reaching for his wand in panic, straightened, and said coldly, "What do you want, Polkiss?"

"Potter. Harry Potter. Dudley did remind me about your birthday, and I decided to come and make sure you weren't spending it alone."

Piers sauntered into the room, his hands in this pockets. He was still rather rat-faced, but he had grown over the years. His shoulders were wide, and he now looked more like Crabbe or Goyle, but Harry knew he wasn't as stupid. Right now, he just looked extremely dangerous, standing inside the Dursleys' living room with a smile on his lips, and eyes cold as steel.

"Thanks a lot, Polkiss.", Harry replied bravely, " but shouldn't a little boy like you be home so late at night?"

Piers just smiled. "Come on in, he's alone", he said in the direction of the open front door, and the rest of Dudley's friends from Smeltings crowded in. Thomas Parker was almost as big as Dudley, but he had short, spiky dark hair, Neil Flanning was tall with powerful arms that looked like they would crush steel, and Jeremy Bates was fair, broad-shouldered and was cracking his knuckles in a threatening manner. They were all carrying their hallmark Smelting sticks, and they looked mean and spoiling for a fight.

"I hear they teach you how to fight at St.Brutes", Piers said, looking challengingly at Harry. "We thought we might leave you alone, but then Dudley told us how you almost ruined his Paris trip. We don't like boys from St.Brutes, and we definitely don't like boys who interfere in what we do, do we?"

"Don't like them at all", replied Thomas Parker, another good friend of Dudley's. "So, Potter, let's see what you've learned at St. Brute's…"


And with that, they all moved threateningly towards Harry.

Harry shrank back, his mind racing. He had his wand with him, of course, and he could use magic to hold off Dudley's gang, but then he would risk getting expelled from Hogwarts. When Dobby had used magic in his second year, Harry had got an official warning from the Ministry, and it had warned that he risked expulsion the next time he used magic over the holidays. And when it came down to it, Harry would let himself get beaten up by Piers Polkiss and the others, rather than use magic and jeopardize his Hogwarts education. "Perhaps if I tried running away," he thought, "I could draw them into the house, and then try slipping out of the front door." It was a faint chance, but although Dudley's gang were well armed and mean, they weren't fleet of foot. Harry edged back a couple of steps. He was right at the foot of the stairs now.

"Scared, Potter?", Piers laughed chillingly. "Get him, boys!"

But before Piers had finished talking, Harry had run up the stairs. He slammed the door to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bedroom shut, hoping Dudley's gang would think to look there. And then he ducked into the linen cupboard just outside. Harry's tormentors' view had been obstructed by the bend in the stairs, so they couldn't see what Harry was doing. As he had hoped, they guessed that he was hiding in the bedroom.

Parker opened the bedroom door, and taunted, "Come, Potter, it will be easier for you if you don't try to escape us…"

The rest of the gang dutifully sniggered. "Maybe he's hiding under the bed", Bates said, as he pushed his way past Parker into the room. This was Harry's chance – in one quick motion, he jumped out of the closet, pushed Neil Flanning into the room, slammed the bedroom door shut, and turned the key in the lock. Breathing heavily, he put the key in his pocket. Only Piers left. That didn't make it an even fight - Piers was easily twice as big as Harry, but at least it shortened the odds on him a little.

"Clever move, Potter", Piers Polkiss said from the bend of the stairs, "but it really doesn't buy you much time, does it?" He started up the flight of stairs slowly, not taking his eyes of Harry. "Think you can outsmart me, Potter?"

Harry gulped. Piers sounded calm and controlled, but Harry, who had been chased by Dudley's gang before knew that Piers was most dangerous when he hadn't lost his temper. Should he use his wand? Wasn't wand use allowed at times like these? He was afraid of Piers in this mood, and that was preventing him from thinking clearly. Suddenly, an idea struck him – and he ran into his room.

"Where are you going, Potter?", Piers taunted, "running out of places to hide?" Harry frantically looked around for something to use as a weapon, but the room was filled with Dudley's old broken toys, and there was nothing he could use. His broomstick was stuck in the cupboard underneath the stairs, so he couldn't even escape out of the window. All he could hope for with his plan was to gain a few seconds where he could make it past Piers – but it would have to do.

"Hedwig, help! Hold him off", Harry whispered, not having any clue if this was going to work, but remembering Fawkes defending him against the basilisk.

And it seemed to work. As Piers entered Harry's room, Hedwig screeched and plunged towards him. Piers swore, and tried to defend himself against the flurry of wings and talons that had suddenly attacked him. Harry seized the moment, thrust himself past Piers, and bolted down the stairs, knowing that his only chance of safety was if he could leave the house, and try to lose Piers in one of the surrounding gardens. He threw himself at the front door, grasping frantically at the handle, trying to open the door.

It wouldn't open. Harry hadn't seen Piers lock it when he came in, but maybe he had? He tried the living room windows, but those wouldn't open either. They were all jammed solid.

BAM! A fist crashed into the side of Harry's face. He looked up through his rapidly swelling eye, to see Piers Polkiss smile, and for the first time, to see the smile reach his eyes. "I really am not that stupid, Potter", he said, as he kicked Harry in the stomach. "Do try to remember that, would you?" Another methodical kick, this time aimed at Harry's knee. Harry screamed in pain. "You really brought this upon yourself, you know, Potter. Running around all over the place, setting that owl of yours upon me… Where's the bird now, Potter?"

"What have you done with Hedwig?", Harry gasped, through waves of pain.

Piers just smiled. He drew his fist back, presumably to punch Harry's face again.

Right at that moment, however, for the second time that night – CRASH. The door flew open. And framed in it stood – Hermione?

"Hermione?", mumbled Harry dazedly, as he passed out. What was Hermione doing at his house?

It was the next day, and Harry was very stiff and bruised from the beating he had received yesterday. He had woken up to find himself lying in the Grangers' spare bedroom. Mrs. Granger had been sitting by his bedside, looking worried.

"What happened? Piers…", started Harry, but Mrs.Granger shushed him up.

"Lie quietly.", she said softly. "Your wounds aren't serious, you will just be rather sore for the next week or so. Paul took care of the boy who was beating you up."

Paul, Harry figured, must be Hermione's dad. Right then Hermione entered the room, bringing with her a beaker filled to the brim with a steaming purple liquid. "Drink this", she ordered, in a manner reminiscent of Madam Pomprey. "It is a strength restoring portion. I looked up how to brew it after we came back last night."

Harry drank his portion, making a face as he swallowed. It had a grainy texture, and tasted vaguely chalky. But he had never had a good tasting portion in all his time at Hogwarts, so he said nothing as he lay back.

"I suppose you want to know what happened and how we found you?", Hermione continued. "Prof. Dumbledore has been watching your house all summer. He didn't want to intervene himself – I think he didn't want to go near your house in case You-Know-Who was keeping a watch on his movements… Anyway, he used a travelling spell and transported Dad and me to your front door – with instructions for me to use as little magic as possible to rescue you. Dad pulled Polkiss off you."

"I don't think I've ever seen Dad quite so angry", Hermione said pensively. "He wanted to hit Polkiss so much, I could see that. We took Polkiss home – and I think Dad had a talk with Mr. Polkiss about Piers. I packed your stuff for you, and we brought you here. We told Mr Polkiss you would be spending the rest of the summer here. I think he was rather relieved, in fact. Probably didn't want to face the Dursleys after his son beat you up."

"Not that the Dursleys would care", Harry remarked matter-of-factly. "Hedwig? Is she ok? I had to leave her in my bedroom to try to escape…"

"We found some feathers scattered around, I think Polkiss was trying to hit her with his stick – but she's fine. Just a little ruffled. I borrowed her to owl Prof. Dumbledore to let him know what happened, I hope you don't mind."

"The door wouldn't open. I couldn't get out.", Harry said in a monotone. In the beginning, he was glad to wake up at the Grangers, but the shock was setting in gradually. He had just escaped being killed. He had seen the look in Piers' eyes when he had smiled at him, Piers would have killed him without a second thought.

Hermione looked strained. "Unfortunately, that was a side-effect of some of the protective magic surrounding the Dursleys' house", she said. "Prof. Dumbledore set it up so you couldn't open the door when there was danger present. In this case, the danger was inside the house… He was very embarrassed, Prof. Dumbledore, and asked me to apologize on his behalf. He can't risk travelling from Hogwarts very much with You-Know-Who about…"

"That's enough, Hermione", Mrs. Granger interrupted. "Harry, you need sleep. Rest for a few hours, then we can celebrate your birthday, if you feel up to it."

"One last question", Harry asked. "Where is Ron? And Sirius? I haven't got an owl from either of them all summer."

"That's two questions… The Weasleys had to leave the country over the summer. It was sudden and unplanned. I think it was something Prof. Dumbledore wanted them to do… Ron had to go with them. And Sirius is also busy with some task Prof. Dumbledore had asked him to do – Prof. Dumbledore told me that Sirius couldn't owl anyone…", Hermione explained.

"Ron owled you?", Harry asked, absurdly hurt because Ron hadn't owled him, but had managed to owl Hermione.

"Oh no, Prof. Dumbledore told me yesterday. I think it is top-secret, because I hadn't heard from Ron either all summer."

Harry felt a little better. He snuggled back into his bed, and within seconds was fast asleep.

After that incredibly bad start to his birthday, things improved dramatically. When he woke up, it was late afternoon. Mrs. Granger heard him move and bustled in. "Good, you're up,", she said, smiling. "Hermione's been waiting. She gets so bored in the summer, with no one to talk to about school work."

Harry groaned. "I'm joking, Harry", Mrs. Granger laughed. "Why don't you go downstairs?"

Hermione was looking impatient as Harry made his way down the stairs. "You're up, finally!", she exclaimed. "I've been waiting for hours! Let's go, we are going to be late…"

"Late for what?" Harry asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," Hermione replied mysteriously as she reached for a jar on the mantelpiece. "Follow me…" she said, as she stepped into the fireplace and said, "The Three Broomsticks."

"Ugh. Floo powder," Harry thought, as he followed her. "I guess Hermione must have had her fireplace connected to the network. Are we off to see Dumbledore then?"

"SURPRISE!", yelled what seemed like a hundred happy voices, as he stepped out of the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks. "Drink up, Harry", said Hermione, grinning, as Madame Rosmerta thrust a glass of butterbeer into Harry's hand. Harry barely had time to see a roomful of smiling people as Hagrid pushed his way towards him. "Bloody Muggle…", he growled. "You alright, Harry?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm alright.", Harry said, puzzled. "I thought you were up N..."

"Prof. Dumbledore decided you needed a feast after your upset last night…", Hagrid said, still looking upset at the thought of Harry getting beaten up. "He rounded as many as your friends as he could contact…"

"And made us all come down here… Fred and George even brought their newest invention to unveil at your party…", a bright voice interrupted.

"Ron!", Harry exclaimed. He looked at the room filled with all his friends – Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, the Weasley twins, Ginny, Neville, Alicia, Angelina and Katie from the Gryfinndor Quidditch team, Cho who looked especially lovely in a robe in shades of blue and green, and he realized he had never been happier.

The rest of the holidays passed extremely pleasantly. Prof. Dumbledore had allowed Harry to stay at the Grangers for the rest of the holiday. Harry was pretty happy – he would have rather stayed at the Weasleys, but after the evening of the party, Ron and his brothers had to return to their parents. They were still helping Dumbledore, and Ron had been very mysterious about what they were doing.

"I can't tell…", he had said. "My mother will kill me…"

But apart from that, Harry had the time of his life. Hermione's parents had treated both Harry and Hermione as adults, and they spent their days in relative freedom. He had managed to tear Hermione away from her books, and the two of them spent their days exploring Diagon Alley, and their evenings practicing Quidditch. They had discovered a Quidditch training camp at one end of Diagon Alley, and the owner, Mr. Ajouer allowed them to practice in the field after his training was done for the day. Harry was extremely interested in the camp, and watched Mr. Ajouer play every chance he could. One of the employees at Flourish and Blotts had told him Mr. Ajouer used to play Quidditch for France (Chaser), and Harry hung around the Quidditch camp, hoping to pick up tips he could use in his game.

Before he knew it, it was the thirty-first of August, and it was time to go to Diagon Alley to buy their books for the next year. One of the school owls had delivered their book lists for this year, and Harry had spent an entire day in shock at the amount they were supposed to learn that year. Hermione of course was excited, even though her list was about twice as long as Harry's.

They had planned to meet the Weasleys at the steps of Gringotts, and had arranged to spend the night at the Weasleys. Harry hoped that everything was alright with the Weasleys. Ron and he had come up with this plan the night of his birthday, and he hoped nothing had changed since that day. Ron had been acting very mysterious, refusing to tell what the Weasleys were up to. Harry was surprised that Fred, George and Ron were involved in what the Weasleys were doing. He thought that the Decree of Restriction of Underage Magic would severely restrict what they could do, but perhaps Dumbledore had allowed them to do magic, just as he had allowed Hermione – when she had come to rescue him.

Harry tossed worriedly for a few minutes in bed, and then he firmly told himself to go to sleep. "Prof. Dumbledore knows where they are…", he told himself. "I'm sure he'll make sure they are alright." And saying so, he fell fast asleep.

Author's Notes: Please review. This is my first fanfic - and I would love feedback.