Disclaimer: You know the drill…I do not own the Harry Potter books, they are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling and various publishing, movie and video game producing firms.

Author Note: Yes, I do know that some of this is copied directly from the books and even more of it has been only lightly changed from the canon PoA. I am going to move further away from canon as the story progresses.

Reviews are welcome but not compulsory, this fan fiction will continue without a review quota being reached. Either encouragement or constructive criticism will be answered in my author page; however flames will be read, laughed at and promptly destroyed.

Warning: This is a pre-slash fan fiction, don't like don't read, if you ignore this warning then don't come crying to me.

— Chapter One ―

Owl Post

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one he hated summer holidays more then any other time of year. For another he wanted to do his homework, but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. He also happened to be a wizard.

The one thing the Dursleys (who were the number one reason he hated summer holidays) feared above everything else was someone finding out about Harry's magic. After attending Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and wizardry for the past couple of years. Harry was heartily sick of their attitude, just one more needless aggravation and he was going to leave and never come back, regardless of the supposed protections.

Dumbledore said he needed to stay here for his own protection, well Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to deal with their stance on magic, without the protection of a wand because of some dinky law on under-age wizardry.

Even with his family's knowledge of this law, everything that went wrong around the house was supposedly Harry's fault. They had decided to lock up his trunk and anything else of his they deemed unnatural in the cupboard under the stairs. He would take his trunk's place, if the Dursley's knew that Harry had raided the cupboard (and taken all his books up to his room) while they were admiring Uncle Vernon's new company car.

Harry endeavoured to do his homework with the purloined spellbooks at night, including the particularly nasty essay on Swelling Solutions, for Harry's least favourite professor. Snape would be delighted to have an excuse to give him detention for a month if he came back without his summer homework done.

Finishing off his History of Magic homework, Harry placed the torch, textbook, stationery supplies and drying essay in an old pillow case and shoved the lot under his bed. Stretching he turned around to go to the window and found three owls, two perched on the windowsill and the crumpled form of Errol (the Weasley family's owl, who was getting on a bit) on the floor just inside the window. All waiting to be relieved of their burdens.

Harry dashed to the fallen bird at once, taking his parcel and placing him in Hedwig's cage. Errol gave a feeble hoot of thanks and began to gulp up some water. He turned and removed the burden from his large female snowy owl who looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave him an affectionate nip with her beak and flew off to join Errol in her cage.

Lastly, Harry turned to the only remaining owl, a large tawny one, who must have come from Hogwarts, for in addition to the parcel which must have been sent by Hagrid, he carried a letter which bore the school's crest. When Harry took the owl's post, the bird ruffled its feathers importantly and launched itself into flight made a single circuit of the room and left through the window.

Harry checked his watch to confirm that his birthday had arrived and then opened all his gifts. After admiring the pile of presents once Harry retrieved his parchment quill and ink and wrote out some thank-you notes, with a post script added to Hagrid's asking how he was supposed to use the biting book.

Turning to the Neglected Hogwarts letter, noticing that it was thicker then usual. Harry slit the open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within and read:

Dear Mr Potter,

Please Note that the new school year will begin on September the first, The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, Platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade at weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. How on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

Looking over at the alarm clock, it was now two o'clock in the morning. Deciding that he would worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back in bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until he returned to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing his three birthday cards. Extremely unusual though he was at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else: glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursley's already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had complained of the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbled as he ate continually.

Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys gave any sign that they had noticed him entering the room, Harry was far to used to this to care, helped himself to a piece of toast.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and said, "I'd be off in a minute, Petunia." To his wife, a horse-faced woman, who was at the kitchen window squinting into the neighbour's runner-beans. "Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry who's thoughts had been upstairs with his new Broomstick Servicing Kit (a surprising gift from Hermione), was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.

"Aunt Marge?' he blurted out. "Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), he had been forced to refer to the woman by the title Aunt, all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a large house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dog behind. Harry tried not to remember any of her visits, but they were unfortunately horribly vivid memories.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject…" He pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry. "We need to get a few things straight before I go to collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favourite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, You'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does the same when talking to me."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any - any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes narrowed to slits in his great purple face, "We've told Marge you attend St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What?" Harry yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry sat there white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit – it was the worst present the Dursley's had ever given him including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

"Well Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the Station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his Aunt," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blonde hair. "Mummy has bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," he said and left the kitchen.

Harry, who had sat in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his now empty plate, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.

"I'm not taking you," he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.

"Like I wanted to come," said Harry coldly. "I wanted to ask you something."

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at…my school are permitted to visit the village sometimes," said Harry.

"So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his keys from a hook on the wall next to the door.

"I need you to sign my permission form," said Harry in a rush.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," said Harry, choosing his words with care. "I don't particularly want to remain here, especially with Aunt Marge coming. You don't want me here at any time…"

"That is obvious, boy, get to the point." His uncle roared.

"If you sign the form, I'll be packed and gone before you get back with her…"

Harry could see two of Uncle's primary goals when it came to him warring with each other over his uncle's face. On the one hand he would get rid of his freakish nephew earlier then he could have dared to hope. But he would be giving Harry something that would make him happy, something Uncle Vernon had always endeavoured not to do.

Trying to nudge his decision, "It'd be hard work, pretending that I go to St Whatsits…"

"St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in his uncle's voice.

"Exactly," said Harry, looking calmly up into his Uncle Vernon's large purple face. "It's a lot to remember, I'll have to make it sound convincing, wont I? Aunt Marge isn't that easy to fool (year right, Harry thought, wanting to roll his eyes), what if I accidentally let something slip?"

"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you won't you?" snarled Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry, fist raised. Harry stood his ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," he said grimly.

Uncle Vernon Stopped, his fist raised, his face an ugly puce.

"If you sign my permission form," Harry went on quickly. "It wont be a problem as I can't tell Aunt Marge anything, if I not here, can I?"

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared in the parody of a smile and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally. "I'll sign your ruddy form, but if you're here when I get back from picking up Marge you'll get what for, you hear me?"

Harry handed over the form, watched his uncle sign it angrily and shove it back into Harry's hands. Uncle Vernon wheeled around, pulled open the front door, stalked through (Harry had seen Snape stalking around too often to be impressed by his uncle's feeble attempt) and slammed it so hard that one of the little glass panes fell out.

Harry was ecstatic, no more Dursley's and none of Marge at all. He had been heartily sick of the lot of them before he finished his first year of primary school. He stuck his head into the kitchen and informed his Aunt that he was going to clear out before Marge arrived and asked if she could unlock the cupboard door so he could pack his belongings into his trunk. He headed upstairs knowing that she would do it and pretty much anything else to get rid of him for another year, preferably forever. Picking up the hall phone he rang the local taxi firm and asked for a cab, whose driver knew London, to come for ten past the next hour.

His relatives were so predictable, his Aunt would avoid the first floor and hall so she didn't have to see him again and Dudley wouldn't move from his spot in front of the new television for anything at the moment (even for his favourite sport, tormenting Harry). This allowed Harry to shift his spellbooks from his room to the trunk and pack them in without any fear of punishment.

Placing everything he owned apart from; his wand, Hedwig's cage (who wasn't ye back form delivering last night's thank you notes) and his emergency stash of muggle money, two hundred pounds, which should cover a taxi fare and at least one night in a muggle hotel room.

Hearing the crunch of gravel outside, Harry opened the door while dragging his trunk behind him. As the taxicab's driver got out to put the luggage in the boot of the car. Harry returned to the house, brought out Hedwig's cage and closed the door, placing the cage on the back seat Harry got in the front seat and asked the driver to take him to a good hotel on, or near Charing Cross Road. Harry spent the ride looking out the side window and marvelling at the fact that he didn't have to see hide nor hair of the Dursley's for another year.

The cab pulled up outside a small hotel, Harry paid the driver and placed his trunk on the sidewalk followed by Hedwig's cage as the taxi zoomed off. Trudging inside, Harry headed to the front desk and asked for a room. Handing over the money and taking the offered key Harry headed to the elevator and headed up to the required floor. He opened the door and set down his luggage and took a tour of the suite's three rooms. He looked forward to sleeping on the king sized bed obviously he had paid for a couple's, not a single suite. Harry couldn't work up any indignation at the hotel staff taking advantage of him.

Harry sat down on the settee, taking some time to think, he hadn't wanted to on the way here. Somehow believing that if started scheming too far ahead, that he would jinx it and not actually escape. But now he was here he had to decide exactly what he was going to do for the summer…