Chapter One

Privet Drive

It was nearly dawn. The sky was beginning to lighten, the pre-dawn haze crept up the street to Number 4 Privet Drive. A solitary owl descended through an open window in the second floor. Within was a room messy with books, robes, parchment and quills that had been thrown haphazardly over the floor and bed. The house was quiet: the only noises were the snores drifting down the hallway from the master bedroom.

The boy on the bed was not sleeping as the other inhabitants of Number 4 were. He sat, huddled near the headboard of his bed shaking, drenched in a cold sweat. Harry had been sitting like this for almost an hour now, ever since he'd awoken from another nightmare.

Harry was an unusual boy. He was a wizard, but though that may seem abnormal to his aunt and uncle, it was one of the most ordinary things about him. He was different even amongst the magical world. Yeah, he thought how many other wizards can say they've had their family murdered by Voldemort? That they've faced him themselves five times and barely survived him? Who else can say they were raised by their Aunt and Uncle who locked him in a cupboard? That they're surprised they're still alive? Who else can say they've seen people die-

His thoughts abruptly broke off as he was reminded of his nightmare. His nightmares these days were full of veils and heavy lidded eyes that taunted him. The one he'd had tonight...

Harry was running across the grass with a shaggy black dog, matching his loping gait stride for stride. They were running to a forest- black and shadowy with the unknown. When they reached it the black dog leaped forward and into the wilderness, but Harry was pulled up short. He could not follow. "SIRIUS!" he bellowed after the dog, but all that stared back at him was the darkness. A veil of darkness clouded his vision beyond the first few trees. Then he heard the laughing. The woman laughed harder when Harry tried to take another step towards the forest but was frozen to where he stood. Harry turned to her and saw the heavy lidded eyes taunting him. "Did you loooooove him baby Potter?"

Hedwig broke him out of his reverie when she hooted a greeting to the visiting owl. Harry wiped his sleeve across his face and looked up at the barn owl that had just flown through the window, a newspaper clutched in its talons. Harry stared a moment longer before dragging himself to his trunk to retrieve the payment for the delivery. The barn owl hooted his thanks and flew back out the window into the dawn.

Harry sat back down on the bed with his paper and sighed, slowly unrolling the parchment. He didn't know what to expect from the papers these days- Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been pretty quiet since the attack at the Department of Mysteries. It seemed as if they'd vanished, but Harry knew better. He's probably sitting back enjoying the panic that's come around now that Fudge finally admitted Voldemort's back.

As though transferring his thought into an article, the now unrolled issue of the Daily Prophet had a large picture of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, displayed on the front page. Harry read the caption under the picture

Minister Finally Believes

"That's strange," he said aloud. "Fudge doesn't usually let the Prophet write articles that don't support him." Then he noticed the author of the article, Rita Skeeter. "Ah," he said, "that makes sense. Hermione's probably only let her write the truth, even if she is allowed to write again." Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagus, and Hermione had found out about it in their fourth year at Hogwarts. The information had proved useful, first getting rid of the worst of the articles about Harry, then getting someone to write a story about the truth no one had wanted to believe. It seemed as though Hermione was letting Skeeter write for the prophet again, even though she didn't seem to be giving up all hold. Harry's eyes scanned Skeeter's article. Refused to believe the truth about You-Know-Who... endangered the wizarding world... unfit minister... let the dementors get away... the article went on. Harry threw aside the paper. He already knew Fudge was a moron, he didn't need to read about it again. He'd only been at Privet drive two weeks and there had already been three articles about how the Minister should have listened to Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore Harry thought. He felt guilty for how he'd yelled at the Headmaster after the events at the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't as if Dumbledore had deserved it, he'd just been telling him the truth. He could have told me sooner, part of his mind argued back. But should he have? Harry didn't know if he'd been ready for that kind of knowledge before now... well he didn't even know if he was ready for it now. Neither can live while the other survives... The Prophesy flashed through his thoughts. Harry knew he wasn't ready for that. He wasn't even sixteen yet. How was he supposed to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard of all time? The Prophesy seemed to suggest that not even Dumbledore could do it, so how was he to be expected to?

Harry's gaze drifted to the letters on his desk, letters from his best friends. He walked over to the desk and picked them up, glancing briefly over the pamphlet they were laying on. Guide to Elementary Home and Personal Defense. The ministry had sent it to him a few days after his return home from Hogwarts. It entailed ways to magically protect yourself and your home, none of which he could do as he wasn't permitted to use magic during the holidays. His attention shifted back to the letters from Ron and Hermione. He read them over again, taking a little comfort in the companionship they brought.

Hi Harry,

How're the Muggles treating you? Hopefully good. If not, write me and Hermione and we'll get Fred and George to go pull their entire joke shop on them. Hmmm... maybe we should just do that anyway. Ah well, Hermione prolly won't let me. Too bad mate. I've asked my mum and some other order members if we're going to be able to get you out of there, but I think they're waiting for something first. Dumbledore mentioned leaving enough time for the protection to take effect? Dunno what that means. It probably shouldn't be too much longer, I've asked at least twice a day, and they should let you come soon if just to make me shut up. We're all at you know where right now cause Dumbledore thought it would be safer for us during the holidays. It's right crowded here though. Dumbledore seems to have recruited every wizard he ever met, and at least half of them are staying here when they aren't gone on business. I have to share a room with Bill and Charlie. But mom's calling me down to lunch now (she probably just wants me to help her paint the attic). Don't let the Muggles bully you.

Ron

Just like Ron, Harry thought. Stepping around his real reason for writing. Hermione had been much more direct.

Harry, I know you must be really really upset, what with everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries, but you mustn't let it get you down. That's just what Voldemort would want, it'd be another way to help him do his horrible things. And I don't think that Sirius would have wanted you to be sad. I know I didn't know him as well, but I think he'd want you to move on. I think they might let you come to stay here soon. Ron and I agree that you'll probably feel better if you're here and not with your Aunt and Uncle. Do try to stay out of trouble though. Don't let Sirius' death make you reckless.

Hope to see you soon

Take care,

Hermione

Harry considered what she had said about Sirius. He didn't understand how he was supposed to move on when he relived his death every night in his dreams.

As Harry had been reading, the sun had slowly risen above the horizon, and Privet Drive was now starting to wake up. Harry could hear his Aunt and Uncle beginning to move around, and Dudley's snores had grown a little softer leading to his usual noon wake up time. Harry got up to make himself a quick breakfast before his relatives decided to deny him any food that had a flavor. He strode down the stairs, jumping the last, squeaky, stair and went into the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator and had just grabbed the orange juice to pour himself a glass when his uncle came stomping down the stairs.

"Boy!" He barked. Harry turned calmly to look at his uncle. "Since you're eating yourself you might as well make breakfast for all of us." Harry continued looking at his uncle for a moment and then shrugged. He set the orange juice down and reached in for the egg carton to start making breakfast.

The summer had been going, more or less, like this for the past two weeks. His aunt and uncle were still nervous of the warning Mad-Eye and Lupin had delivered at the train station at the end of term. They'd been more civil in their requests of Harry, even if he did still have to do all of the chores around the house. He'd make their breakfast every morning, and then he'd be sent out to work out in the yard or clean some part of the house or his uncle's car all before Dudley woke up. He usually had the afternoons and evenings free, as long as he didn't linger around one place for too long.

His uncle came stomping back into the kitchen with the newspaper a few minutes later as Harry was putting some bacon on to fry. He sat down at the kitchen table and unfurled the newspaper, reading it as he waited for Harry to make breakfast. After a couple more minutes his aunt, Petunia, came into the kitchen, saying good morning to Vernon just as Harry finished with the bacon and eggs. Harry brought these over to the table and sat down with them to eat his breakfast quickly.

"Where's Dudley?" Vernon grunted, looking around.

"Oh, he's still sleeping." Petunia replied. "He was out late watching a movie with his little friends." Harry had to suppress his laughter that his aunt, the most nosey person in the neighborhood, didn't know a thing about how Dudley really spent his time. Sure, she could tell you the exact time Mr. and Mrs. Across the Street had come home from church, but she refused to see the truth about her son, the neighborhood bully. Harry knew Dudley had been out smoking and drinking with his friends the night before, just like he usually was.

Harry stood, having finished his breakfast, automatically rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher.

"If you're done, the garden needs to be weeded, and the lawn needs to be mowed again Harry," his aunt said timidly. Harry nodded. He didn't mind the work; it gave him something to do. Something to take his mind off Sirius and everything else that had happened last year. He walked out into the backyard and got a bucket to put the weeds in.