Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the content of J.K Rowling's books, but I do own all of my OC's, the plot of this fanfiction, some spells, and the possibility of Malfoy dancing around the room of requirement to the song "Around the World (La la la la)" by ATC. I also do not own any of the song lyrics present in this fiction.

Full Summary: It's the start of a new year at Hogwarts, and all Harry wants is a fresh start, was it really that much to ask? But this definitely wasn't how he expected things to turn out. His head full of dreams about unidentifiable figures, mysterious gifts, and raining fish, his world feels like it's been turned upside down, and for some reason all he can seem to think about is someone that he's hated for the past five years. All he wanted was a change in his life, but it seems he got much more than he bargained for. (This story talks place during Harry's sixth year)

Theme song: "Drops of Jupiter" by Train

Pairings: HP/DM and a little HP/OC (Draco in disguise), maybe some HG/RW (?)

Warnings: This fanfiction contains boyXboy action, if you don't like it, why are you even here?

Additional Warnings: Um…The Harry/Draco love in this is slow at first, and at the beginning they start out as enemies then become friends. There aren't any one-shot sex scenes that pop out of the blue in this, but eventually there might be some explicit stuff (don't lose hope! This is still a work in progress!) And maybe some mpreg (maybe!).

A/N: Hi there! ^_^ This is my first ever Draco/Harry pairing (now that I think about it, it's my first completed fanfic…) so I'm really excited, and just for fun I made it a songfic. I've tried to keep the story line as close as possible to the original series (so I guess it's Cannon…?) but with a few modifications; for instance, I changed the course of the story so that professor Slughorn never exists, and I'm trying to sway Harry away from the whole emo personality with the "Oh I hate my life! Why does no one care! Hey you! Stop looking at me funny or I'll hex you!" attitude. And also I'm giving him a new hobbie, because with him playing quidditch, learning defence against the dark arts, doing his homework and planning how he's going to defeat Voldemort, what else does he have to fill his time with, that isn't depressing? I'll fill you in on Draco's new hobbie later as well, but I have a feeling that people are going to say it's too OOC for him, but hey, when in doubt, write something more entertaining. And if you don't agree with me, and you think I should have stuck closer to the original, we'd never get Draco and Harry even remotely close to each other, let alone loving it up. So Nya! _

This is a songfic, so the theme song for this chapter is "Put Your Records On" by Corinne Bailey Rae.

On with the story!

Living in Tomorrow

Chapter 1

Birthday wishes

The sun shone, almost blindingly, down onto the midsummer landscape that was southern England. It glared off puddles, windows, and the occasional pair of sunglasses that paraded their way down the streets in the warm afternoon sun. The quiet atmosphere was very peaceful, and made one think of lazy afternoons filled with lounging around on deck chairs, ginger cats stretching and going to sleep in your lap, and tall glasses of iced pumpkin juice slowly perspiring in the mild heat, that is, if you were a wizard.

In this case, that particular wizard was Harry James Potter. Now, most of you may think that the title "Wizard" is exciting enough in itself without having to add something like "Saviour" or "Hero" to it, but for this wizard, this was a given, and most of the time he wished he was none of the above. Also, sometimes on days like this, he wished he wasn't even a wizard. He sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, knocking the book he'd been reading onto the floor. He didn't notice however, and just buried his face deeper into his pillow, and groaned out of pure boredom. Can't they just let it go? He thought in exasperation.

He'd been locked in his bedroom all morning, and for the better part of a week. The reason he had been punished, was because he had accidentally tripped Dudley over and broken his nose as he'd been passing by the local park, as he often did.

What really happened was that Dudley had been picking on these two little girls, one of about the age of six, the other slightly older, maybe nine or ten, and had nicked their skipping ropes, being a total arse as usual.

Harry usually knew to keep clear of his cousin when he was like this, not out of fear – no, he had not been afraid of Dudley in years – but just that the plain fact was, that even if he intervened, whoever Dudley's victim might be, would most likely be less than grateful for being saved by that "odd, delinquent, Potter", who in the opinion of many of the neighbourhood children and their families, was a terrible influence and a danger to those he associated with.

But this time something felt different, almost wrong; Dudley was alone, he didn't have his usual posse of idiots backing him up, and also, even though Dudley was a git, he wasn't the kind to rough up a couple of girls, young as they may be.

"Go on, jump." Dudley said as he leered at the smaller of the girls, who was starting to cry. He was holding the ropes about a foot too high for the girl to reach. Red in the face, and shaking with rage, her sister yelled "Give them back! Give them back right now!"

Harry paused by the park gate wanting to keep out of sight. There was something odd about how this girl was acting. The anger was to be expected, but she almost looked like she was concentrating very, very hard on something, almost like she was willing Dudley to spontaneously combust.

Dudley laughed cruelly "Why don't you make me you freak! I know you can!" Harry frowned at this. "Freak" wasn't something that Dudley often used when insulting people. In fact, he had never heard him call anyone that, apart from himself. What did Dudley mean? "I know you can…" Can what? Harry thought, confused.

"Just give them back! Stop making my sister cry, you brute!"

The girl was almost screaming at him, and her little sister was sobbing on the ground, having fallen over after trying and failing, to grab the ropes from Dudley's large hands, as he'd lowered them slightly in a teasing manner before quickly raising them even higher into the air.

Dudley was guffawing now, barely able to get his next words out. "Ha-Ha-Ha, not until you do something, y-you l-little f-freak!"

Harry had been about to come out from behind the tree where he'd been hiding, readying himself for a fight, when he froze. Something was happening to the ropes in Dudley's hands. They were glowing, and beginning to move slowly, almost like a…

"Snake!" the little girl screamed.

Two long carpet pythons were now twisting and writhing in Dudley's fingers, hissing angrily at having been folded into unnatural loops. Dudley yelped and dropped them, and swore loudly when one snapped at the lacers of his trainers. "Shit! You little freak! You're going to pay for that!" he advanced on the taller of the two girls, about to hit her, when Harry, coming out of his shock, decided it was about time he did something.

"Oi!"

Dudley turned around and his great piggy face twisted into a mixed expression of fury and scorn.

"Oh, look who it is! Has the head freak come to defend his puny 'freakettes'?"

"Shut up Dudley! What kind of a git picks on a couple a kids, girls for that matter?"

"Shut it! They're not normal! They're weirdos just like you!"

Dudley was about to reach for the girls again, but one of the snakes chose that exact moment to rise up, hissing threateningly at him, like it was protecting the girls from further harm.

"Come any clos-s-s-er and you will pay…" It hissed angrily. Harry doubted that anyone else could understand this, but the snake's demeanour couldn't have been plainer.

"Get rid of them freak!" Dudley demanded. For a brief moment harry wondered which one of them Dudley was talking to –in Dudley's opinion they were all freaks– but that thought left him as quickly as it had come.

Harry looked over to the elder girl, her face wasn't shocked as it should have been, especially after seeing two ordinary jump-ropes transform into large, probably deadly, snakes, but looked mildly surprised more than anything else. Then it hit him.

They…they're witches… Harry was having trouble processing this; he had seen these two playing in the park before, once or twice accompanied by their corporate, suit wearing mother, and he was certain, that she defiantly wasn't a witch.

The other snake had begun to rap itself around Dudley's foot, intent on stopping him from escaping.

"Stop it! Stop it you stupid, evil, little bi-" he would have continued but something made him falter.

Dudley had frozen –literally– he was stock still, not even blinking, and it was only once he keeled over and his nose made a sickening crack against the concrete, that Harry realised he had been stunned.

"E–Emily…!" The older sister squealed.

'Emily' had stopped crying, but her face was distraught and her eyes wide in apparent shock and confusion as she stared at Dudley as if he were dead. Her sister ran to her side and scooped her up into a hug while backing away slightly from the unconscious form that was Dudley, stroking her hair as soothingly as she could, in spite of the fact she too looked like she was petrified.

Harry stared. This was something he would have never expected. He wouldn't even have dared hallucinating about this sort of thing. Maybe I'm going mad…It wouldn't have been the first time…

The girls took no notice of Harry as he continued to stare, thinking hard.

Oh get a grip, this isn't that odd, they're probably muggle born, just…say something…

"…um…"

Oh that sounds real intelligent genius…

Harry took a step forward, but as soon as he did, the snakes reared and hissed threateningly, ready to bite if they had to.

He backed up; rethinking what he should do; He locked eyes with the closest snake, an idea swimming out from the depths of his brain.

"Let me pass-s-s…" he hissed softly.

The pythons seemed to blink in surprise, and then obliged, much to the shock of the two girls who were huddled on the ground in front of him.

"Hello…?"

The girl called Emily buried he face into her sister's shoulder; apparently the shy one.

"Go away." The elder spat at him.

"No."

"Go away!" she yelled.

Taken aback, harry paused, then, making a decision, slowly kneeled down on the ground beside them.

"Why do you want me to leave?"

"Just leave us alone! Our mum told us to stay away from you! You're probably just as bad as him!"

She pointed dramatically at Dudley, waving one arm around like this might indicate just how bad she thought he really was.

Ignoring this, Harry continued. "You know it isn't very nice to make judgments about people before you get to know them. You might have some idea about how that feels, I'm guessing?"

She frowned at him, but said nothing.

"Now, would you please tell me your name?"

She considered this. Looking down at her sister, she said. "You first !"

"I thought your mother told you to stay away from me; doesn't that mean you already know who I am?"

"All I know is that you're his cousin," she pointed at Dudley again "and that your last name is Potter. That doesn't count as knowing who you are."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Smart answer.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Your turn."

"I'm Elliot. Elliot Jones."

She smirked. Harry felt a little relieved to see it, and smiled back.

"And this, as I take it, must be Emily." As he said this, Emily poked her face out from Elliot's shoulder and peered curiously at him.

"Hello there." Harry said politely, hoping not to scare her again.

She ducked her face back down again, nuzzling into Elliot's long, very curly bronze hair, completely obscuring herself from view.

"She's shy." Elliot said offhandedly, stroking Emily's hair somewhat absently, as if thinking about something mildly interesting. Hairy watched this, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't…at least, not until Harry said, "Uh…I'm very impressed with you snake friends, usually you have to be very experienced to do that kind of spell."

All of a sudden she snapped her face around to look at him and said in a disbelieving voice "Spell?"

"Uh…" Harry said again, his mind blank as to what to say.

"You said spell didn't you?" She sounded almost demanding. When Harry said nothing, she glared at him.

"Oh…well, I suppose you don't know yet…How old are you?"

"I'm ten," She sounded quite proud of herself "but I'll be eleven in August."

Makes sense, that's around the time when my powers were getting stronger…I guess it wouldn't be hurting anyone to tell her, she'll be getting the letter soon anyway. Harry thought, frowning slightly, weighing his options.

"I'm six and a half!" Said a now excited Emily, who had forgotten about being shy, and was now waving her hands around in the air, almost as if she was going 'Pick me! Pick me!'

As she did this, a small bird that was in the tree above them, started making loud squawking noise and started to swell, so much so it fell out of the tree.

"Oh dear…I don't think sparrows are supposed to look like that…or sound like a pack of elephants for that matter…" Harry was having a hard time keeping the grin off his face; the sparrow's body, which was now green, was now roughly the size of a very fat pigeon's, and was honking with displeasure as it tried to flap its tiny wings, failing to get off the ground.

"Emily!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It's the birds fault!"

"It is not the bird fault! Now turn it back or I'll tell Mum!"

"No-o-o! Don't be mean! Don't tell Mum! Don't tell Mum!"

"SQUAWK!"

Harry couldn't help himself, he burst out laughing, it was just so ridiculous watching these two fights, and the bird was getting louder, flapping its wings like a chicken and still getting nowhere.

"Stop laughing!" Elliot yelled, but she too was starting to laugh, and was red in the face again.

After a while, and once the bird had deflated and flown away, and the snakes had changed back, the group were panting and grinning to one another, and they probably would have stayed that way, had Dudley not groaned.

"Damn…"

The spell had broken, just like the all the other's. Harry tensed as Dudley stirred, then clumsily rose to his feet, dried blood stuck all over his face.

"Ugh…Where…?" Dudley mumbled.

This surprised Harry. Stunning spells didn't usually make one forget things, but then again, it might not have been just any old stunning spell…

"Oi. You. Why am I here?" Dudley asked Harry stupidly. Definitely not a normal one…What should I say?

Harry looked from the girls then back to Dudley and said "Um…You came to beat me up…?"

Dudley frowned at this, but was slowly starting to nod; beating Harry up seemed like a normal thing he might do. That must have been the reason he was in the park. Dudley then noticed there was blood on his face.

"Why am I covered in blood?"

Wow, and I thought Dudley was stupid before…must be some sort of combo spell…Hmm, 'Stupefy' is one…his memories gone, so that could be 'Obliviate'…'Confudus' maybe?"

"Who are you?" Dudley said to one of the girls, who looked a little confused that he could not remember them.

Yep, definitely 'Confudus'.

Dudley started looking around the park a bit dazed. He spotted the ropes lying near his foot, and his face slowly started to dawn in comprehension.

Better think fast, I don't think this spell will last forever…

"Dud, just now you came into the park, and you saw me. You thought you would have a bit of a laugh, so you came over and tried to start something. I tripped you over, and you broke your nose, and you've been out for the past two minutes. When we get home you will tell Aunt Petunia that I was the one who started it, and you will complain a lot, you're good at that. And you will not remember ever seeing these two girls here, nor will you remember they have powers or where they live. Understand?"

Dudley nodded slowly, his eyes glazed over and sporting a vacant expression.

"Okay…go?" Harry said uncertainly, and surprisingly that's exactly what he did; Dudley turned, and began walking up the street, completely oblivious to the stairs he was receiving from neighbours, who would have been blind not to notice his broken nose, and the fresh waves of blood that were pooling under it, just above his top lip.

Harry and the girls watched him go for a while, but then Harry's attention was pulled back to the current situation when he felt a gentle but persistent tugging at his right sleave.

"Hey! How did you do that?" Emily was looking up at him in a look of awe, her big brown eyes sparkling with fascination and wonder. Harry couldn't help but smile, she just was so adorable.

"I actually don't know, but I think know what and who made it happen." He said, bending down and taking Emily's hand.

"What is it? Tell me! Tell me!" she was giggling and jumping up and down, hardly containing herself.

Harry poked a finger lightly into her chest and said "Magic."

When he said this she squealed and went "Magic! Magic! Magic! I have magic!"

Emily ran over to a tree and picked up a stick, making Harry and Elliot laughed when she started waving it around like a wand and making little whizzing noises, like young muggle boys do when they pretend they're playing with laser guns.

She ran back and asked "Does that mean we're fairies?"

Harry all of a sudden had a rather disturbing mental image of Professor Snape in a pink tutu and little fairy wings.

He grinned reluctantly and said "No, we're not fairies, you two are witches, and I'm a wizard. Look." He rummaged in his pocket and brought out a Chocolate Frog he'd been saving. He opened the packet and grabbed the frog by the leg before it escaped.

"It's alive!" Emily squealed, pointing, as Harry dangled it in front of her by its foot. Elliot could only blink.

"And look at this." Harry handed the Chocolate Frog card to Elliot, who took it cautiously.

She jumped when she saw the old wizard in the picture yawn, then waved merrily at her.

"That's Dumbledore; he's the headmaster of my school. And he's one of the most powerful wizards in the world." Harry knew he must sound like an idiot; he was talking just like a young mother telling her child a fairytale, but somehow he didn't care. It was kind of fun.

Elliot turned the card over, reading it carefully.

"Why are you showing us this?" She said, looking up at him with an almost sad expression on her face.

Harry wondered why this might be, but answered her none the less.

He sat down gently on a pile of dead leaves, crossing his legs, considering. "Well, when you are very young, witches and wizards, like you, don't have powers straight away. They start to get them at different times." He indicated Emily as an example.

"Most of the time, wizarding children know that they are going to get their powers sooner or later. But in your case you're a special kind of witches. You're something we call muggle born."

"What's a muggle?" Emily asked.

"They are people without powers. They don't know anything about the wizarding world or that magic is real."

"So…Mum is a muggle?" She asked, looking at her sister, confused.

"Mum's never showed any powers, we would know. She hates magic." Elliot frowned, her voice very bitter as she said this.

Harry could relate; the Dursleys had always hated him, that was to be expected, but they might not have hated him so much if he wasn't a wizard. He looked over to Emily, she looked sad too, and it suddenly dawned on him.

"You haven't told you mother have you."

Elliot shook her head gloomily, taking Emily's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "She wouldn't like us anymore…" Emily mumbled, she sounded like she was going to cry.

Harry didn't know what to say. It was an entirely different story if your family loved you and they hated magic, instead of if they knew you had magic and hated you, like the Dursleys did him. It would only hurt that much more to keep it a secret from them, just to stop them from saying they didn't love you anymore. That was just too much for someone so young to go through.

He felt torn. He knew that if he told them, that in less than a month, Elliot would be going to a school for wizards, it would be like giving her a death sentence, but it would only be ten times worse for her if her mother found out when that day came, instead of now. He could almost not bear the thought of what would happen when Emily would have to tell her Mum she would be going as well, in just a few years time.

"I wish Daddy were here…" Emily sniffed, hugging Elliot.

"Where is he?" Harry asked.

"He died, when we were small." Elliot said quietly.

"Do you think Daddy was a wizard?" Emily asked.

"Maybe. He really liked cats…"

"…I'm not sure that counts, but if he knew Mrs Figg, then he might have been…" Harry mused, absently.

"Aunty Figgy?" Emily asked.

"…Aunty…what…?"

"You know our Aunty Figg?" Elliot sounded stunned.

"Um…Yeah, she used to babysit me when I was about your sister's age." Harry said weakly; this was getting too much for him to take; He was starting to get paranoid that everybody he met had to at least have one magical relative in their family that he knew. But, at least this gave him a way of telling them without hurting them too much.

It was getting late, so making up an excuse, that he thought it better to get the coming argument with his aunt and uncle over and done with, Harry casually suggested that they go visit their Aunty soon, preferably that afternoon, and ask some quite important questions. They argued, but agreed and, promising that they wouldn't tell anyone what Harry had told them, left quickly down the street in the general direction of Magnolia Crescent's far end.

"Bye bye!" Emily waved madly at Harry, all the while being pulled along persistently, her little hand clasped in Elliot's as she marched her down the street, in an almost mothering manner.

Harry noticed that they seemed to wave their hands around a lot, almost manically; this was probably something they would have to work on if they continued to make strange things happen because of their untrained magic. And sure enough, as Emily continued to wave, they pasted by a couple of street lights, which suddenly all turned on.

Any normal person would have just assumed they had turned on because it was starting to get dark, but the next moment, they had all started to flash red and blue like the lights from a night club. This seemed to annoy Elliot extremely, because she stopped and started to scold Emily with a rather heated expression on her face. And then, a few seconds later, the bulbs of the street lights cracked and went out.

Definitely needs practice…or maybe anger management…?

When he got home, as expected, he was yelled at, punished, and so on and so forth; he didn't really care, it wasn't anything new to him. The Dursleys had always been a pain, but as pain goes, you got used to it.

Harry sighed, and got up. Rubbing his face, he looked at the calendar on the wall; that had been exactly five days ago, surly they weren't still mad? But Harry suspected that the real reason they were annoyed with him wasn't because he had hurt Dudley, but more that ever since he had come home, Dudley had been acting in a rather odd way.

"Dudley! Stop doing that!" Harry could hear his uncle's quite audible voice, bellowing at his son from down in the driveway, through the open window. Harry only vaguely registered this, because as of late, Dudley was acting so strangely, the whole thing was getting old quickly, so Harry just learned to ignore it.

The first of the odd things that Dudley had done wasn't exactly weird, but it was a little off putting. When the Dursleys had been yelling at Harry, for Dudley's nose breaking, he hadn't said a word, and just stared at the wall. As the days past, he began doing stuff that wasn't just off putting, but just plain strange.

He had gone out into the back garden one day, and had started wrapping the garden hose around a tree, and then had just walked away without a word when he was finished. The next day, he had 'teepeed' someone's house; the only problem was, that it was their house. And now by the sound of it, Dudley had unlocked Uncle Vernon's company car, and had filled the front seat with dirt.

At first Harry found this quite amusing, he suspected that it had something to do with the spell Emily had cast on him, but he couldn't be sure, maybe Dudley had just gotten brain damage from the fall.

Anyway, he hadn't seen the girls all week, and he was starting to worry; what if their mother had found out they had powers? How would she take it?

He wasn't sure if Mrs Figg would tell them everything, considering they were still young, and unmistakably unstable with their powers, but he hoped she would at least explain the basics, they deserved to know that much. Especially Elliot.

~~~~X~~~~

Harry hadn't been sleeping well, he had been plagued by dreams, most of which involving Voldemort, but others, had on occasion involved some extremely random things that didn't make much sense.

The dreams about Voldemort had been as they usually were; painful and confusing. But from what Harry could tell, he was somewhere very cold, because all he could see was snow, with red eyes glowing through the haze. And he could also hear something; pained, terrified screaming.

All of his dreams started like this, but as they progressed, his thoughts would sometimes stray to Hogwarts and its grounds; his mind taking long walks around the lake alone, but now and then he thought he saw the fuzzy outline of someone following close behind him; or have his consciousness float around the empty halls of Grimmauld place, most of the time dwelling in the ancient living room.

To be perfectly honest, when ever this happened a great sadness would flood his chest, and he would spend hours brooding, thinking about Sirius, Hogwarts, and all that he would have to leave behind, when he would one day, have to defeat Voldemort.

This brought thoughts of Ron and Hermione swimming to the surface of his mind. What would they say if they knew that he was acting this way, all by himself, thinking of his untimely demise? He shivered, and closed his eyes; it was almost midnight and he still wasn't asleep; he was to afraid of what he might see, or hear, but, considering that he hadn't had a solid nights rest in weeks, his exhaustion quickly caught up with him. His mind suddenly shut down, pulling him into a deep sleep.

Harry was alone, floating bodiless, surrounded by cold, white snow. Even though he didn't have skin anymore, he could feel goosebumps rising up his arms, making his body tingle from the cold, but only mildly, it was more like the ghost of a feeling, barely bothering him at all. He waited, wanting something to happen, to get it over with, but no one came.

There was something glowing in the distance, warm, flickering, it made him think of the crackling of a fire, which could mean only one thing; People.

He mentally took a step forward, but regretted it immediately. He was suddenly not bodiless anymore, and it was freezing! He wrapped his arms around himself, staring out into the blizzard that was forming around him. The flickering light had turned into a pair of slitted, red eyes, burning out from the centre of the snow storm at him, whipping his face, cutting his cheeks and arms.

He felt numb, and was losing felling in his fingers and toes. He fell over as he stumbled forward, landing in a snowdrift. He could now hear the screaming. It was loud and frightened; sounding like the person who was yelling out in agony was asking for it all to end. He hoped against hope that someone would come, anyone.

Please, someone help them! Help! Please! Help…help me…?

Harry suddenly realised that the person that had been screaming, was him.

And the dream, changed.

He was running, sprinting at top speeds down a slope at the edge of the lake, Hogwarts in the distance, framed magnificently against the setting sun. He saw there was someone running after him, as though hunting him. He tried to see who they were, but their appearance was blurred so that all he could see was their outline, and even though they were faceless, they seemed vaguely familiar.

He fell, face planting into the grass, and he could hear laughing. This too was familiar, but at the same time it was eerily different from the memory of whoever this person was, that his mind was refusing to let him remember. It was joyful and free from malice, it was almost…endearing.

"Watch your step Harry, or do you want to crack the rest of your big head along that fault line you call a scar?" Said the mystery person, lightly teasing him. The voice was echoey, and slightly muffled, as if he was hearing it through a closed window.

Harry lifted himself off the ground onto his hands and knees, and found himself replying, "Get a life–!"

His words faltered. He knew he had just said the person's name, but like their appearance, his mind was not letting him know or hear what it was, blurring his speech, and this seriously frustrated him.

The person bent down and offered Harry a hand. "Weak, very weak Potter. I'm starting to think your beginning to lose your touch." Harry took it, letting them pull him to his feet, but then backed away slightly out of embarrassment. This too confused Harry; why was he embarrassed?

"So, what did you want to say to me? Surly it could have been said in the castle, or was it too disgraceful to be seen with me?" Harry could hear the smirk in the others voice and he could tell they weren't being serious, but even so, they had a certain tone of uncertainty in their voice that was almost unnoticeable, that made him think, that they really might care what his next answer was.

"Well…" He gulped, why was this so hard to say? "I–"

But before he could say it, whatever it was, the dream changed again.

"Harry?" someone said quietly.

"What?" his head jolted up from the book that he had been reading, quickly snapping it shut. "Harry mate, you've been staring at that page for over twenty minutes now." Said Ron, looking bemused.

They were sitting in the great hall, at one of the long house tables, surrounded by the normal lunchtime chatter, weak sunshine streaming through the large mullioned windows. It must be early spring.

"Have I…? I didn't…notice…" Harry trailed off, feigning innocence, trying to discreetly slip the book away into his bag. Hermione frowned at him; she watched the book closely, spying something red out of the corner of her eye.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing accusingly at the book's cover. Harry looked from Hermione to the book and back again, and then blushed. "It-it's nothing." he mumbled, still trying to get it out of view, but the book kept getting caught on his bag as he feverishly stuffed in between his textbooks.

"Give it here." Ron grabbed Harry's wrist, pulling the small book out of his hands, inspecting it. There was a thin, red ribbon tied in between the pages of the middle of the book, standing out against the black and white of the leather cover and crisp new pages, by the look of it, marking the page like a book mark. Harry protested, but Ron shook the book open to the marked page with one hand, the other planted on Harry's face, restraining him as he pin wheeled his arms, tying to retrieve the book.

Ron's face blanched and he looked furious. "What does it say?" Hermione asked tentatively. Ron clenched his jaw and then resited "'Nose out weasel butt. If this was your book, then you would not only be able to afford better manners, but also a brain'." There was silence between the three for a moment, and then a small smirk curled the corners of Harry's lips.

Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry as he began to laugh. Ron scowled, then flipping to the first page, and read "'To Harry, Merry Christmas. Hope yours is better than mine. I think this book will keep your secrets and thoughts better than you might think. –Infidelis.'"

The surrounding light from the windows dimmed and everything started to melt and blur, causing everything to look grotesque and out of focus. Harry could feel himself floating out of his seat as Hermione and Ron and the scene below faded away to black, unsettling him slightly. He could feel himself waking up.

~~~~X~~~~

Dear Hermione,

In you last letter you said that I should write to you, if I had anymore dreams like that one at the end of fifth year. Well, I have…

It's actually very confusing for me, because they start out like they normally do, with the whole Voldemort thing, but then they change at the end, and they don't feel like normal dreams anymore, or even like visions.

In one, there is this figure that I can't see very clearly or remember, like my memory is trying to block them out. And in another, I have this book –a journal I think– that insults Ron about the Weasley's being poor and stuff like that. But what really makes me feel weird, is that I actually laughed about it in the dream! I don't even know why, it's like in the dream, I was playing out a scene from a movie; I knew it was me, but I felt and acted differently. And don't say it's just because it was a dream, because it wasn't. They seem almost real, like…a memory, but not quite, something about them just feels off.

Ever since these dreams started, I feel on edge; I haven't been getting much sleep. Could you make some suggestions on what I could do? The dreams aren't particularly disturbing, but they do raise my stress levels and I don't really have anything to keep me occupied. The Dursleys grounded me last week, so I've already finished all my school work after being locked in my room, which I know doesn't really sound like me, but I was really that bored. Maybe you could send me a book or something?

Missing you and Ron, Harry

Harry sighed, sweeping his tried and failed drafts off his desk, reading through the completed letter again.

Was it too much? He wondered, unsure.

He didn't want Hermione to think he was seriously freaked out about it –like if he questioned his sanity– but he couldn't really make what he wanted to say sound offhand and convincing at the same time in a letter, especially when he really did want her opinion on what to do. Finally making up his mind, he swivelled round in his desk chair, and called Hedwig down from the wardrobe, where she had contentedly been eating a spider she had caught earlier.

After he stroked her feathers a little, and told her her destination, he opened the window, and watched as she swooped out into the darkened street and off into the distance until she became a white speck on the horizon.

Harry hadn't been lying to Hermione when he said he'd had nothing to do for the past week, he had been literally bored out of his brains, and even after he was let out of his room and allowed to roam the house again, he still couldn't find anything entertaining to fill his time with. He'd read and reread all of his textbooks, finished his homework, cleaned his Firebolt (this earned Harry another two days locked in his room after Aunt Petunia walked in on him trimming the bent twigs in its tail), and fixed by hand, some old junk he had found in the Dursleys garage. It was maddening how bored he was.

The weekend before his birthday, he had made himself a cup of tea and had fallen asleep out on the front lawn, too jaded to do anything else, only to be woken up after a myriad of a mixture of unpleasant and oddly amusing dreams, with a bad sunburn smarting his skin, and his now cold cup of tea spilt all over his chest. The fact that his hair hadn't been cooperating even more than normal wasn't helping his mood either.

It wasn't until that following evening did anything of interest finally happen.

Dear Harry,

Oh for goodness sake Harry, try to remember that your mail could be intercepted. You're starting to get as carless as Ron; three days ago he mailed Fred and George about a new product they're inventing, and the ingredients they mentioned weren't exactly –how should I say this?– legal…The ministry is searching our mail also, so we're kind of boxed in on what we may want to talk about, so just be a bit more carful okay?

But putting that aside, Harry if you're having dreams like the ones you've described, then if I dare to say so, you might want to read through some of your divination books. I know you may be surprised to hear this, but after having to put up with all that old dingbat's ranting about utter rubbish, and then to find out that there are real, legitimate prophecy's out there, I had to seriously relook through my reasoning for mistrusting in the subject. After some proper research, I found that if applied correctly, dream interpretation is actually a reliable way of looking into the subconscious, and because of wizards magical abilities, it sort of helps them tap into their future selves subconscious thoughts, allowing them to have glimpses of what may or may not happen.

So if you look into that you may be able to see some meaning in your dreams, I tested it out on some of my parents dreams and on myself, and they actually helped a lot. And about your boredom problems, I think I may have a solution. Do you by any chance own an old record player? If so, please tell me soon and what kind of music you like, I really would like to help you with this.

And Harry, do try not to worry too much, it'll all turn out fine in the end.

Love, Hermione

A small smile crept across Harry's lips as he read through Hermione's familiar, friendly chides, feeling slightly relieved that nothing seemed to have really changed about his friends, and slowly realised that he had been over reacting; everything was fine, he didn't have any homework, he wasn't grounded anymore, and it seemed that even Voldemort had better things to do than bug him through subliminal messaging. Everything seemed to be right with the world at the moment.

Writing back cheerfully, he gave Hermione a brief list of the kind of music that he liked, an affirmative that he did own a record player –It had been one of the first bits of the Dursley's junk he had mended– and thanked her for her advice, telling her that he was looking forward to finding out why his most recent dreams had involved raining fish. This thought in mind –after he had sent Hedwig on her way– he retrieved his Divination text books from under his bed, flipping a few pages until he came upon the section on dreaming.

"Okay, today I dreamed about the journal again and raining fish…what does that mean?" He muttered to himself, already feeling stupid about what he was doing.

After about ten minutes, he gave up on trying to interpret the meaning of the journal; there were just too many meanings to choose from, all depending on things that he didn't find very important, such as if the book was open, closed, old or new, written in or blank, and many other differences he probably wouldn't have been able to remember anyway. So he turned his attention to the red ribbon that had marked a page in the dream book. But this too had a confusing meaning; it said that it meant he would one day make a very passionate lover, which made absolutely no sense to him.

Much to his chagrin, there wasn't anything about raining fish either, and when he tried interpreting them as separate things, it would give him mixed messages that told him he was going to have some great sadness or sorrow if he didn't like rain or some great happiness if he did, and that depending on what kind of fish it was, he would have a big disappointment, a positive opportunity arising that must be seized, or –heaven forbid– he was going to get pregnant, all of which sounded ludicrous and just plain insane.

Shutting the book dully, he lied back on his bed, and as he willed sleep to come to him, dreams or no dreams, he silently wished, that this coming school year things might be different. He dearly wanted for something good in his life to change, and he hoped it would not be temporary, like so many good things in his life had been.

Taking a deep breath as the clock struck twelve, he wished.

"Happy birthday Harry." He whispered.

~~~~X~~~~

The next day, Harry felt odd; he knew he had had dreams the previous night, more than one involving Voldemort, but he couldn't remember them properly, and when he tried to, all he got was an odd fuzziness in his brain. Dismissing this as normal early morning fatigue, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and placing his glasses on his nose. He sneezed. Huh? Harry blinked then looked over to the window; it was wide open. He must have left it open after sending Hedwig to Hermione's.

He shrugged, then walking over to it, about to close it, he noticed that all the flowers in the front garden had burst into bloom, accompanied by a wide variety of wild flowers that had sprung up all over the Dursley's front lawn. Harry stared. He sneezed again. Damn, I must have hay fever. He rubbed his nose and watchedas a group of their neighbours past by, one of them pointed the flowers out and they stopped to stare to; every other lawn in the street was either struggling to stay green, or it had given up and died. Why on earth was it that the Dursley's front yard had suddenly turned into the Garden of Eden?

Unnerved by this, he shook his head and began to get dressed. Maybe it's just luck. Either that or Aunt Petunia used some sort of bioengineered fertiliser on the grass. Harry finished buttoning up his shirt, then sat back down on his bed. He waited. Nothing happened.

Something doesn't feel right… he thought uneasily. Something should be happening right? It took Harry a few minutes to mull over what felt different, and when he finally remembered what it was, he jumped, because something large and feathery had just hit the window.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed. "Shut up Boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs. " 'kay, sorry!" Harry looked back to the window and then wrenched it open. Hedwig looked very ruffled; all her feathers were standing on end, but despite this she jumped lightly into the room and hooted at him in greeting, only to sink to the floor again, weighed down by a wide, flat package.

"Come here." he murmured sympathetically, lifting her into her cage, untying the thin cord from around her legs. She nipped him gratefully on the hand, and dropped a field mouse into his open palm, surprisingly it was still alive.

"…Well…thankyou…thanks Hedwig, I'll…go put this somewhere…" Harry said over the squeaks of the field mouse. He walked over to his desk, and pulled out an old shoe box he kept pencils in, gently placing the mouse inside, making a mental note to release it later. Hedwig hooted in approval, then bent her head and helped herself to some owl treats at the bottom of her cage.

"Okay, it's my birthday, so…this must be from Hermione." He began unwrapping the flat package, pulling from under the brown paper Hermione's letter.

Happy 16th Harry!

Well, I got them as promised; three brand new records to your exact specifications. I hope you enjoy them, I wasn't sure what to get you at first, considering that we can't really play muggle music at Hogwarts because of magical interference, but then I remember I had seen an old gramophone in the muggle studies classroom, that doesn't need electricity. There is this really great music shop near my house that can get modern songs on record, you know for DJ's, and they had quite a wide selection, so I couldn't resist. They had lots of contemporary jazz and punk to choose from, so I thought I'd just buy a few records and then send you the address of the shop so you would be able to find more titles if you get bored with my choices. I hope this cures your boredom, I've always thought that starting a new hobbie can be very beneficial.

Under this, the address of the music shop had been scribbled in Hermione's neat script. And from there the letter continued.

Oh, just a question…you dreamed about raining fish? Even for you Harry, that's strange, but I guess it's no stranger than the time Ron dreamed he was being eaten by a Hungarian sausage.

Harry smirked at this, remembering when he had been at the Burrow and Ron had woken up at three in the morning, screaming "No! It's going to eat me! Too much spices!"

"What?" Harry had moaned sleepily.

"The salami! It's going to eat me Harry!"

Ever since, Fred and George had hid a different kind of preserved meat under Ron's pillow every night until the end of the summer holidays.

I just arrived at the Burrow when I sent this, so I'm not sure what time it will get there. Also Ron says his present may be a little late, he said something about the twins attaching it to the chimney with a permanent sticking charm, and so you may have to wait awhile. Our O.W.L result should be arriving soon, I do hope I passed; I just know I screwed up my ancient runes result, but I guess it can't be helped.

Good luck, and happy birthday Harry

Seeing you soon, Hermione

Harry put the letter down, and pondered what Hermione had said; Seeing you soon? How soon? He sighed. Stop it. don't get your hopes up, the summer's barely started, it's not like you're going to see them that soon…trying to distract himself, he thought of other, more mundane things; Now that he thought about it, his results should be arriving soon, along with his new book list from Hogwarts. Wonder how I did? He mused contemplatively.

As he thought about this, he pulled the remaining paper away, and examined his present; the first on the pile was an album by Corinne Bailey Rae, a modern jazz singer that Harry had heard a few times on the radio over the summer. The second, was an All Time Greats by the Sex Pistols, whose music he had really grown to appreciate, after Dudley had gotten bored of their music and had decided to throw all the CD's he owned away, which Harry had claimed immediately. And the third was a Greatest Hits from a few years previous.

He smiled; Hermione really did know how to brighten his day. Bending down, Harry retrieved the mended record player out from under his bed, and began setting it up on his desk. He selected one of the records and then pressed play.

Three little birds, sat on my window.

And they told me I don't need to worry.

Summer came like cinnamon

So sweet,

Little girls' double-dutch on the concrete.

Harry sat down and listened idly to the smooth jazz tunes, now and then finding himself singing along half-heartedly to the mellow lyrics, feeling very relaxed and contented. This really was a good idea. He mused, grateful to Hermione.

Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong,

but it's alright

The more things seem to change,

the more they stay the same

Oh, don't you hesitate.

Girl, put your records on,

tell me your favourite song

You go ahead, let your hair down

Sapphire and faded jeans,

I hope you get your dreams,

Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Lying back on his pillows, he closed his eyes.

Maybe this summer won't be so bad. By the sounds of it, Ron and Hermione are having fun. I guess I should ask Mrs Weasley if I can come visit before the holidays are over, she'd probably like that. Ah, but now that I think about it, she's probably busy with the Order, maybe it would be better to wait until…

Blue as the sky,

sunburnt and lonely,

Sipping tea in the bar by the roadside,

(just relax, just relax)

Don't you let those other boys fool you,

Got to love that afro hair do.

Maybe sometimes,

we feel afraid, but it's alright

The more you stay the same,

the more they seem to change.

Don't you think it's strange?

Hedwig began hooting nervously at him, flapping her wings as an odd rattling noise began coming from the desk. Assuming it to be the mouse running around in the draw, or something like that, Harry kept his eyes shut and ignored it.

Girl, put your records on,

tell me your favourite song

You go ahead, let your hair down

Sapphire and faded jeans,

I hope you get your dreams,

Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

'Twas more than I could take,

pity for pity's sake

Some nights kept me awake,

I thought that I was stronger

When you gonna realise,

that you don't even have to try any longer?

Do what you want to.

Girl, put your records on,

Tell me your favourite song

You go ahead, let your hair down

Sapphire and faded jeans,

I hope you get your dreams,

Just go ahead, let your hair down.

There was a loud bang, making Harry jerk up from his bed to stare at his desk, which was now shaking. Hedwig screeched and flew out of her cage towards the window, deciding to get out of there before something bad happened.

Girl, put your records on,

tell me your favourite song

You go ahead, let your hair down

Sapphire and faded jeans,

I hope you get your dreams,

Just go ahead, let your hair down.

Oh, you're gonna find yourself somewhere, someho–!

The record player slid off the desk and crashed to the floor, just as the top draw burst open. What Harry saw was both disturbing and horribly familiar; from within the shoe box, the field mouse slowly began to grow in size, its features stretching and spreading out across its face, rearranging themselves and becoming more human.

Finally, after the whole gruesome ordeal was over, a stocky, grumpy looking old wizard, wearing a raccoon skin coat and matching hat, stepped rigidly from the now broken desk drawer. He looked up and glared at Harry. After staring scrutinisingly at him for a few seconds, the rough looking man muttered brusquely, "You! Stupid child. Who told you put animals in shoe box! I could have died! No air!" His voice was very hoarse and thick with a heavy Russian accent. Lost for words, Harry stood, carefully stepping towards the other wizard.

"W-who are you?" He finally managed.

Still scowling at him, he bowed stiffly, and stated "I am Professor Vatsky, your new teacher at Hogvarts." Taken aback, Harry continued to stare, still uncertain on what to say next.

"You!"

"Y-yes!" Harry spluttered; he wasn't used to this kind of treatment; it was like being in the army.

"Speak! Do not keep staring like dead fish!"

"Um, ah…W-why are you here?"

"You will name me as Professor Vatsky! You will ask no questions! It is time we go!"

Harry felt dumbstruck as he watched open mouthed, Professor Vatsky levitate half the contents of Harry's room over to his trunk, letting it fall into a pile of mismatched socks, spell books, underwear, and Harry's birthday presents, and then use a compacting charm on the lot of it before slamming the lid shut.

"Move!" he ordered. Jumping, Harry immediately motioned to grab Hedwig's cage, but as his fingers were about to close around the bars, the cage soared over to the Russian wizard, by means of a spell, and he barked "Too slow!" He put the cage on top of the trunk, and then shrank them, turning them into miniature versions of themselves, and proceeded to stow them away in the deep, left pocket of his coat.

"Outside! Now!" He commanded, indicating the window with his wand. "What?" Harry was looking from the window then back to his professor, hardly able to believe what he was asking of him. Pushing him roughly in the back with his wand, Harry yelled and fell forwards through the window, only to be cushioned upon impact by an enchanted bush, which promptly spat him out onto the overly flower covered ground.

"Shit." Harry muttered as he picked up his glasses, which had cracked. Professor Vatsky landed squarely beside him, still on his feet, and motioned for him to stand. Doing so, Harry stuffed his broken glasses into his jeans, then scowled up at this odd, and frankly, rather rude wizard.

"Arm." he muttered. Harry hesitated; he could guess what was coming. "Are we apparating?" "No questions!" the man barked again. Frowning in displeasure, Harry held out his arm reluctantly, and was grasped tightly by Vatsky, who suddenly made an abrupt turn, yanking Harry along with him, into complete darkness, accompanied by a horrible squeezing sensation in his abdomen, making it hard to breath.

It all but lasted a few seconds, but when the dark, pressuring feeling ended, and light and air burst into Harry's vicinity, he was gasping for breath. After the general shock had worn off, he realised where he was.

"Harry! When did you get here?" said a delighted Ron.