Disclaimer 1: This is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic results if they really want to.

Disclaimer 2: I'm not making any money from it. It's just for fun.

Disclaimer 3: What isn't borrowed is all made up. None of this is real or most likely at all realistic. Please don't trust any of the information in here. Most likely you know more about whatever I'm writing about than I do.

Disclaimer 4: Attitudes, views and opinions expressed by the characters or in the story are not necessarily those of the author. Even when writing Science Fiction or Fantasy I do not tend to attempt to create perfect/better worlds in which everybody gets a happy end ... or whatever is best for them. Please accept that some characters will have a bad ending or be unhappy.

Disclaimer 5: I intend no insult to anyone. If I offend anyone I'm very sorry. Please understand that it was an accident as I tend to be very clumsy in these things.

Notes: Uncle Sirius explains rules.

Chapter 1: Dudley Demented

Harry was quite surprised how quickly Hedwig returned with a reply to the letter he'd sent to his secret uncle Sirius to explain the moral qualms he had about continuing their secret relationship. Reading it at the Gryffindor table didn't seem like a good idea, though. His classmates would see and then they'd ask who was writing to him, or they might even try to read along over his shoulder. Who knew, there might even be spells that enabled you to read something from much further away!

If they found out Harry had a secret uncle he was quite sure most of them would be furious. How dared he have a relative and exchange letters with him when they had to wait until they turned sixteen? And he was the youngest in their year at that, the only one who wasn't even fifteen, yet.

Well, technically the only one as Neville's birthday would be celebrated that very evening.

So despite the guilt he felt over it Harry pocketed the letter casually and continued to eat his lunch. He left the Great Hall still chewing the last bite, though, and ran to the nearest bathroom where he locked himself into the first cubicle and sat on the toilet to read.

'Dear Harry,' his secret uncle had written. 'I think it is well past time we cleared up one thing: Rules exist to be broken and at your age you really ought to know that. Now, don't misunderstand me. I'm talking about rules such as curfews, being quiet in the library and not setting off stink bombs in Professor Snape's classroom, the sort of thing the institute staff make up to spoil your fun.

Laws are a different matter, though even among them there is quite a number of useless ones that are best ignored. Important laws, however, must of course be obeyed: Like those that forbid you to kill or torture your fellow wizards, the ones Voldemort and his Death Eaters are breaking. Never ever let me hear that you have broken one of those!

As far as the rules that forbid you from knowing your family and writing to them, why those only exist to prevent you from pestering your parents with all your childish thoughts and experiences when they do not have time to bother with such nonsense. Now please keep in mind that I am not actually related to you by blood! I have chosen to feel connected to you as if I were your uncle. As such the rule against knowing your relatives cannot even apply to me! We would only be breaking it if I were to reveal the names of your parents to you. Not that I would have a problem with that if you wanted to know, but I can see that you prefer to be a good boy and so I won't. Tell me if you ever change your mind on that point, though.

I am not actually your relative and I do not feel in the least bothered by your letters. In fact I often wish you'd write more! Most of the time they are far from childish nonsense by the way. You are already of a quite reasonable age after all. The sixteenth birthday is an arbitrary deadline if you ask me. Clearly a child can be expected to write interesting letters sooner than that. And just how fair do you call it that one of your classmates whose birthday happens to be next week would be allowed to write to his relatives all next year while you should not?

No, Harry, I do not want to hear - or rather read - any more such nonsense about you feeling guilty over writing to me. I have asked you to do it and you are doing me a favour by complying. In fact, I would feel very hurt and miserable if you stopped. You wouldn't want to make me unhappy, would you?

Also, what is that about not wanting to feel special? I have never head such rot before in my life and would like very much to have a stern word with whoever put that into your mind. How does he even imagine that you could avoid it? Of course you must feel special since you can fly especially well, just like your friend Hermione must feel special because she gets especially good grades, just like Ron must feel special because he is especially tall. I could go on. There is something special about every child and I bet you they all know it and wouldn't dream of trying to change it. Why then should you not feel special over writing to me as well as over flying so well? It doesn't make a difference.

Now stop those stupid worries and tell me about the third task already. I have read about it in the Daily Prophet of course and have heard a lot about it from those fellow Aurors who were there for security, but you saw how reliable the Prophet is when Rita Skeeter wrote that article about you and none of those Aurors even spoke with you. They said that they thought you weren't hurt, but that you did give up early and then I heard about that fiasco with Barty Crouch junior masquerading as old Mad Eye. Please tell me you are unharmed and didn't get caught up in that!

Your very worried Uncle Sirius.'

Harry sat there and stared at the letter for quite a while after he had finished reading it. It seemed so very confusing and full of strange thoughts, that all he could really tell from it was that his secret uncle Sirius did not want him to stop writing and apparently felt so strongly about it that he hadn't thought through and structured his arguments. He knew from his lessons that that was why rushed essays were incomprehensible and received bad marks.

He also could tell that Uncle Sirius was very worried about him after the third task. This was of course Harry's own fault because first he'd taken so long to reply to Uncle Sirius' last letter and then had forgotten to answer any of the questions in said letter. He really had to make up for that now, but while the toilet was quite practical for reading in private there was no way he could write there. It might have worked if he'd had a Muggle pen, Harry thought, but writing with a quill required a table to put the ink pot on. If he tried to put it on the floor and write on his knees he'd leave ink stains all over the floor and parchment ... and on his robes as well, but those were black anyway.

So he put the letter back in his pocket and returned to Gryffindor tower.

Maybe if he put one of last year's schoolbooks on the table as he wrote people would think that he was studying to prepare himself for the next school year.

He'd use the Divination book, he decided after a moment. All his classmates knew that he was bad at Divination, but had visions sometimes. It would seem perfectly reasonable that he wanted to improve his performance there.