Chapter one: Blaise Zabini and Marcus Turner.

He hated it at the Dursley's.

It was a strong emotion he knew and probably didn't do any good for the so-called blood wards around Privet Drive that headmaster Dumbledore had set up to keep him 'safe'. He knew that he had to accept this place as his home for them to keep going but there was no love shared between himself and his relatives.

Professor Dumbledore of course knew how much Vernon Dursley was upset with young Harry because of the incident during the summer and yet he'd sent the 13 year old back when the school had closed for security purposes. Sirius Black was free and the dementors served no purpose except harming the students – Harry had fallen nearly 30ft for them to realise – all the students had been sent home just after Halloween when Black had got into the Gryffindor common room and dorms, all of them given the full years' worth of work they were to send via owl to the school teachers to mark at various stages all noted down on a calendar.

The only good thing about it was the under-age restriction had been removed completely at least until they were back at school – so long as muggles didn't see anything (beside the ones who already knew) then no one would get into trouble and they could continue in their education.

So what was the problem, you may ask. Harry Potter lived with magic-hating muggles who locked him in his bedroom and so far after three weeks he'd actually finished all of the work set up until the Easter holidays. He had down the spells that they had been instructed to learn for all the subjects and the theory memories off by heart in the subjects that couldn't be done outside of a controlled environment such as Potions, Herbology and care of magical creatures. He was nearly five months ahead of what he should have been.

What else was there to be done though?

Sighing he rolled over to look around the room that Petunia had actually cleared when he had ran away during the summer after blowing Marge up like a balloon – they didn't care that Marge wouldn't remember anything – all of Dudley's old broken toys removed, all that was left was a camp bed that he was laid on, an old set of broken draws, a slim cupboard and barred windows.

The door was completely locked and a cat flap for food after his 1st year.

Just below the window was his school trunk that the Dursley's had been forced to leave with him because of the school work and the threat of teachers coming out to check how the students were doing.

Groaning as he rolled off the bed and went over to bang on the door, Vernon wasn't in at the moment – off at work – and Dudley was away at school still (Smeltings) and wouldn't be back until Christmas holidays started in another three weeks…it was only the third week in November after all.

He stepped back as he heard the locks being snapped open and an impatient Petunia glaring at him from the other side, looking around the room in disgust especially the piles of parchment on the top of the draws that served as a desk for him.

"What?"

"I was wondering if I could go out for a bit. I've been stuck here for three weeks," he asked quietly – he'd asked within the first week and Vernon had merely scoffed at him and slammed the door. "I-I just want to go for a walk or something,"

Petunia stood there thoughtfully before nodding sharply and instructing him to come to the kitchen before he went anywhere. Grabbing Dudley-second hand hoodie that was meant to be white but looked grey, Harry had had it since he was eleven and it was still too large though maybe getting small in length, it was winter and it was England. Meaning that it was seriously cold outside.

Better than the bedroom though.

Slipping on the trainers that Vernon had shoved at him when he had returned the previous summer, again an old pair of Dudley's, he grimaced and wondered if he could afford to replace his wardrobe sometime soon. People at school had of course noticed but none of them dared to say anything and the headmaster/teachers merely said that he should take better care of his things.

Once in the kitchen he spotted his Aunt Petunia sat at the table with one of the neighbours, Mrs Turner from Number 9, having tea. Petunia handed him a shopping list and some money telling the other woman that it would give him something to do while keeping him out of trouble.

Walking across the grass in the front garden Harry leapt easily over the wall and set off at a light jog towards the nearest supermarket (ASDA) that happened to be about half-an-hours walk from Privet Drive.

"Potter?!"

Harry froze slightly wincing when he recognised the voice of Blaise Zabini but continued to walk nether the less – his hands filled with several bags, break, milk, potatoes and other things for dinner that night that he would no doubt be cooking…Petunia couldn't cook so the pair often ate out or ordered in whilst Harry was away at school.

That or microwave meals.

His head snapped up and glared at the Slytherin third year who had grabbed his arm and spun him around, Zabini gasped in shock at his face. Vernon had beat him when he had arrived and then when he had dared to ask to get out of the house, then again because Hedwig dared to fly through the kitchen window when she couldn't get though the bars in the bedroom.

"What do you want Zabini?" Harry asked tiredly turning away and continuing to walk down the street. Why was the Italian boy even here? After all he lived in Italy and it wasn't school. "I need to get home before my uncle notices that I'm out. Even if my aunt did send me…"
"Your UNCLE did this?" Zabini demanded looking at the injuries pointedly – Harry merely shrugged ignoring the wince of pair when his arm was grabbed again. "Potter, why didn't you tell someone? Surely Dumbledore…"

"Dumbledore knows. Dumbledore was the one to place me here."

"Here…?"

"Hey! Blaise, why are you speaking to the freak?" Marcus Turner demanded looking at Harry in disgust; Zabini raised an eyebrow as his eyes narrowed. "He's a no-good waste of space. Honestly you're wasting your time. Dudley says that Potter goes to some criminal institution,"

"Actually Potter attends the same school as I do," Zabini spat grabbing a few of the bags from Harry easily then looking pointedly at the other boy to do so as well, Marcus hesitated before leaving Harry with only two bags. "You're near top of the year aren't you Potter? Though I don't know how, you always leave everything until last minute…"
"No I don't." Harry denied stopping in front of his own house and glancing at Zabini, wondering just how the wards would react to another wizard being here. "You may come in if you wish – Just don't mention school to my aunt."

"Gotcha."

"Oh look, my boy is so thoughtful!" Mrs Turner cooed when they entered the kitchen, Vernon sat at the table with them now glaring fiercely at Harry for daring to leave the house. "And you as well Blaise, You know Petunia – Harry is too thin and scrawny. I'm sure some sport would do him good. It would keep him busy and out of trouble too."

"I remember him being good at running." Marcus added thoughtful trying to remember their primary school days clearly. Blaise cleared his thought and stepped forward after discarding the bags.

"He could start Martial arts - Karate," He suggested,

"We cannot afford it with sending Dudley to kick-boxing." Vernon claimed stiffly a clear lie and they all knew it. They got £450 a month for keeping him when he was here, and Vernon had a good income as well. "Would you like to join us to dinner Eve? The boys too of course,"

"Of course," Mrs Turner replied with forced cheerfulness, Marcus excused himself after finding out what time he was required to be back and Blaise was watching Harry thoughtfully. "Blaise dear, aren't you going with Marcus? Young Harry is here though if you wish to stay."

"Don't mind his things, he's obsessed with Wicca." Petunia laughed falsely. Harry cringed as Blaise raised an eyebrow – it was a good excuse for the books and such in his room though.

Harry led the way up the stairs and to the only room with padlocks (six of them) on the door with the cat flap…wondering just if he would be able to move tomorrow once the visitors left.

"You finished all this already?" Blaise asked raising an eyebrow (he seemed to do that a lot) at the various lists on the desks, "I've stuck to doing them week-by-week or it gets a little tiring. You only have another six assignments to do for the entire year!"

"Yes – the 45% ones." Harry reminded his peer cringing at the thought of doing those assignments. They were a mixture of written work and a test of magic…though the last part would be assessed when one of the teachers came to visit. "I'm just glad we don't have to actually make a potion – I doubt they would be that understanding."

"You're reading up on arithmacy and ancient runes?" He questioned picking up the books next to the camp bed – apparently ignoring what Harry had just said. "I didn't think you took those classes."

"I don't. I got the shop to send the books," Harry replied snorting. Hermione wouldn't have been as understanding of him doing that – she was the 'smart' one in the trio and hated him doing good. "How did you know I was one of the top anyway? Even Snape agreed not to tell anyone my assignment grades."

"There is a list on the Slytherin notice board." Blaise muttered looking around in disgust and finally sitting down on the camp-bed after using a cleaning charm on it…one that Harry didn't know. "One for each year and subject – more like a booklet…each year has one and each page gives the top ten students name and house in each subject."

"Oh."

"You're top in defence, no lower than sixth in the rest beside divination." Blaise rolled off from memory – Harry snorted at that. Sure the Slytherin would catch on to his grades faster than his own house. "And Potions you are fifth but only because of practical application being so poor, Professor Snape told us that you'd be third if you could actually make a potion."

"Who is above me in that class?"

"Malfoy, Myself, Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones."

"Hermione?"

"Is 9th."

They sat in silence for a while before they were called downstairs where Harry took over the cooking without anyone beside Blaise noticing, Petunia could get the start of the cooking correct but usually either undercooked things or burnt them to incineration and even if she got that right they didn't just all that good because she never thought of adding spices or salt.

Blaise and Marcus brought the subject of Harry going to karate with them back up half-way through the dinner. Marcus explaining that he'd been to see their sensei who had agreed to allow Harry into the class – he had to get their earlier to help set up and then stay afterwards to clean up for now until they came up with an alternative method of paying for the classes.