A/N: Ok, so here I am, a big Harry Potter fan, and I want the sixth book. While waiting, it struck me that I should write my own book, with the way I want the story to go. It's my first Potter fiction, but not the first story I've written, or published. I would appreciate your comments and reviews. Tell me what you think, I won't bite you…well…I might.

The Sixth Year Sister

By: DoYouBelieveInMagic

Chapter 1: The Master of Magic and the Guest

It had been another lousy month of summer in Pivet drive. Harry just didn't know how much more of his aunt and uncle's, his supposed family, verbal abuse he could take. Let not the lack of Dudley's name surprise you. He didn't even think of Dudley as family. He'd gotten so fat Harry just didn't consider him human any longer. Dudley had just recently gotten off the wrestling team, for "unsportsman-like" behavior, regaining weight, and the rude remarks that always follow.

With this unfortunate development, Dudley found new ways to occupy his would-be training time into threatening anything that walked past him, Harry not excluded. But, Harry had to say the boy obviously had developed some brains since last summer, seeing as he did not to provoke him too much. In view of the fact that there was that small incident with the dementors and all, Dudley didn't want any reoccurrences of last summer, and he would prevent it at all costs, being under the impression that it was Harry that had humiliated Dudley, and that it was Harry who made Dudley feel empty and cold inside. So, the only teasing he found that was safe was snide remarks at the dinner table about Harry being a cursed freak, which aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon found quite hilarious time and time again.

Yet, this summer had become oddly different from the past ones. Harry had no will left in him to rebuttal when his aunt and uncle spoke maliciously to him. Seeing this attitude had kept up for over three weeks, despite provocation, both they and Dudley decided the best thing would be to ignore him, like they had done the past 16 years of his life, give or take a few cut-downs and insults. Harry didn't seem to mind either. The thoughts of Sirus being dead still brought him to tears at night, and quite frequently, his scar prickled with emotion, and he needn't guess whose emotions they belonged to, he knew.

His bad mood wasn't improved by the lack of letters from Hermoine and Ron either. He had expected at least one! Heaven knew that he at least sent a dozen to each of them. He had a feeling that they were at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, probably filtering it out of Sirus' belongings, not wanting to tell him what they were doing.

Harry's eyes moved towards the broken mirror on his desk. The tears were building up again. He hadn't seen his emerald eyes in normal form for quite some time now. Every time he looked, they were red and puffy, and this time proved no different. He wanted to talk to Sirus, and several times took out the mirror Sirus had given him last year, only to find his reflection staring sadly back every time.

He flopped miserably on his bed, watching the quidditch clock tick madly, the tornados zooming around inside the little piece of work. He picked it up for Cho the last time he was in Hogsmeade, which seemed years from now, on Valentine's Day. And after breaking up with Cho Chang, or rather, she him, he decided to keep it for himself. His selfishness turned out to be rather helpful, since when he had gotten back, the normal clock had seemed to have mysteriously disappeared out of his room and into Dudley's spare bedroom. Besides, the clock was his only clue to the accurate passage of time, though to him it felt like each passing moment was another year slipping away from him.

Eyeing the mirror from Sirus, he slowly picked it up. 'Maybe, maybe this time,' he thought hopefully.

"Sirus? Sirus please answer me. Are you there?" he asked for about the 60th time that summer.

Silence didn't seem to shock the Boy-Who-Lived anymore. Suppressing tears, he chucked it back into the hole in the floorboards. He hadn't bothered telling his family about the tragic turns of events for his beloved Godfather yet; he figured they didn't care much anyhow. Anyways, it would just give them further reason to make fun of his ill-fated circumstances.

Fumbling for something to do, Harry took out a role of parchment and ink from his suitcase. He eagerly looked outside the window for Hedwig, that stupid owl. He'd sent her out a week ago with a letter to Dumbledore. She had yet to return.

"Prat of a bird," Harry spit venomously dipping the quill into the dark ink.

Dear…

Harry thought for a moment. 'Who would he write to? Ron and Hermoine certainly weren't going to answer, and he doubted Dumbledore would either. He considered writing to Seamus or Neville, but it just didn't seem worthy of his time or ink, since he couldn't really talk to them about anything important.'

Dear Cho…

Harry looked shocked at his own writing. 'Cho? He wanted to write to Cho?'

Shrugging carelessly, he wrapped his tattered blanket around his legs, steeling the cold bite from them, and poured his heart into a letter to Cho.

Dear Cho,

I know receiving this letter maybe seem odd, since we left on unsteady terms…

Harry looked at the letter disapprovingly. He reread it, only to crumple it up and take out another piece of parchment.

Taking a deep breath…

Dear Cho,

I know we parted last school year, you angry, and I confused. I never meant to hurt you. I was preoccupied with a lot of stressful things. Well, and being around you makes me completely tongue-tied. Can you imagine what happens when you mix the two? Something I did obviously made you upset, and I apologize.

But Cho, I can't seem to find anyone to talk to anymore. I thought of someone I could trust, and whom I really wanted to talk to, and when I took out a piece of parchment, it was your name I wrote.

My Godfather died during the end of school. I haven't been able to talk about it, and I still don't know if I am ready…

Harry bit his lip in angst, bravely continuing.

No one will talk to me either. I written to the people whom I thought could help most, since they've known about my situation. But it would seem that I was wrong that they would help me out. The headmaster only just informed me about something, something that could bring me to my eternal end. What do you do when your fate is already written? I guess I'm scared Cho. I'm sorry for venting on you like this too. I don't mean to burden you. I'm sorry about saying all that stuff about your friend too, though it was wrong of her to tattle like she did.

Cho, thank you for reading this. Please forgive me. Can we start over? Forget about the past? Please? I also want you to know that…

Harry gulped loudly.

…know that still I really like you. I didn't mean to blow it so bad. I hope you are having a good summer.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Harry didn't even bother rereading it, knowing that if he did, he would lose his courage and end up balling another piece of parchment, and not take up the task again. Sealing it, and sticking it in Hegwig's cage, he sighed heavily, and then lay in bed again, letting his eyes drift off into an uneasy sleep.

Harry jerked from his rather light doze when he heard the banging of Uncle's Vernon's fist on the door. Sluggishly, he stumbled across the room, and opened the door. Looking up at Uncle Vernon's red face came as no shock.

Feeling a surge of bravery from he knew not where he asked callously, "What did I do, and what do you plan to do about it? I haven't left my room since last night's dinner. So whatever it was, was probably your fat pig of a son."

Harry slammed the door nonchalantly in Vernon's face, waiting for him to pound the door down, and slap him around for a bit. Heaven knew he needed something to do.

He was surprised when there was yet another pounding knock on the door. "Harry, you thick boy, come out this instant, or I will send your bloody visitor away."

His eyes bulging from the surprising news, Harry jumped out of bed, and ran out of his door, not bothering to see the look of his Uncle's face on the way out. Heading through the kitchen, he finally reached the living room, only to find the master of magic sitting quietly on the couch, reading a copy of the Muggle newspaper.

"Professor Dumbl-"

"Hello Harry, please come join me on the couch."

Harry nodded respectfully, laughing inside at the choice of apparel that Dumbledore decided to choose. His headmaster was wearing Hawaiian shorts and a wife-beater shirt. It looked so funny compared to his outlandish robes from Hogwarts.

Noticing the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, Harry became silent and waited for him to speak.

"Harry, I know it's been a long summer, and you have been patiently waiting for a response to you letters. But, there has been something quite shocking that has happened over the summer. I felt that it should not be hidden from you either. I had no prior knowledge of her before this summer until she came to me at Hogwarts. But, I can safely say, that if you are ready to leave here, you may pack your things, and we can be off."

"Her, sir? Who is she? What does she have to do with me?"

"She wants to speak with you herself Harry. I promised I would not say a word," his eyes giving that look Harry knew so well.

Harry nodded, knowing he wouldn't get any information out of him. Taking the silence as a hint, he ran upstairs, and began collecting his things.

The Durselys said nothing as the watched the events unfold. They sat in the kitchen watching and listening. Neither party made an attempt to speak to one another. Dumbledore decided to break the silence and fill them in, knowing that Harry wouldn't and couldn't have.

"How do you do, Mr. Dursely?"

Vernon turned quite pale. "You have no right speaking to me."

Deciding to ignore this comment, Dumbledore went on. "It may very well be that Harry does not have to return to your home after this year."

Shocked by the suddenness of this news, the family looked at each other without a word. Petunia was first to speak. "But my sister…and what she made me promise? I don't understand."

"Nor will Harry, not until the other guest arrives. Everything shall be explained in due time. I will send you a letter explaining," Dumbledore eyed Harry coming down the stairs with his belongings, and he decided not to say anymore.

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry through the corner of his eye.

"Ok then Harry, we will wait for her to arrive, and we will be off."

"She's coming here?" Harry's question was answered when a loud apparition crack could be heard just outside the door. The Durselys jumped, afraid of the noise.

"Ah, that should be her. Harry, can you answer the door?" Dumbledore asked on queue as the doorbell rang.

Agitated with confusion and excitement, Harry ran to the door, and opened it.

In front of him stood a girl with Hedwig on her shoulder, standing about an inch taller than him. She could have been 19 or 20 by the looks of her, with long blonde hair and cream skin. What shocked Harry the most, though, was the pair of his emerald eyes staring back at him.

"Hello Harry. I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"Mom?" Harry asked taken aback.

A/N: Ok everyone! That's it. Please review! I really want to know what you all think. I'm going for writing my own version of book six. We'll see together how it turns out.

Please Review.