Harry awoke with a start. He'd fallen asleep with his face against the window sometime during the day. Now, with the darkness growing ever more complete, he straightened his glasses on his nose and peered towards the street searching for the disturbance.

Unable to see any nuance of change, he glanced first at his clock, then at the letter in his hand, and finally took a sweep around his room.

The clock had barely changed. Now, it read barely before midnight, just as the paper crumpled in his fist said it should. His room, to his horror, looked much like the sorry sheet of parchment. Lithely, Harry jumped from the rickety stool and began haphazardly tossing things into his open trunk as he pondered his summer.

The first week had been miserable, simply atrocious, and although the mood lightened considerably thereafter, his friends' neglect had not, nor had the neglect from the rest of the Order.

He paused momentarily, listening for any noise. When he was confident that there had been not a sound, he proceeded his musings and realised: he would not have made it at all this summer had it not been for his surprising new companion.

Though the man had always been around, Harry must admit, this summer had shared amazing secrets that would have been left otherwise undiscovered. It was this, rather than the going-ons at the Ministry, that the two spent the majority of their time talking about. In fact, Harry was quite certain that this man now knew him better than Ron or even Hermione, with her pansophical eyes.

There it was again, and, this time, Harry was sure the tell-tale squeak of the floorboard on the third to the uppermost step of the stairs had squeaked. Looking about, Harry snatched his wand from the foot of his bed, unafraid to do magic away from school now that the Ministry had declared a state of emergency, and spun towards the doorway just as the door was knocked into the room.

Blindly sending a Stunning spell towards the attacker, Harry landed, sprawled out on his floor. He did, however, recover with ease, as the recent addition to the room noticed, a twinkle in his old eyes.

As Harry jumped up, Dumbledore grasped his arms tightly and smiled at the shock on the boy's pale face. Chuckling, Dumbledore quietly noted, "I did tell you midnight on Sunday, did I not?"

Harry simply gaped, leaving the Headmaster time to turn and repair the damage he'd created. "Ah," he remarked fondly, "nothing like blowing in a door to make an old geezer feel young again."

"You're not old, sir." Harry replied automatically, while internally trying to figure just how old this man might be.

The Headmaster, it seemed, would not put his query to rest, "Then, my boy, you're left unaware just how many times I've been around yonder sun."

Harry had no time to puzzle this odd statement, as Dumbledore was currently assessing his room. "Did my spell do more damage than simply to the door?"

Although the light in his eyes lead Harry to believe he was simply joking, he was nevertheless embarrassed by his dismal housekeeping skills.

"Now, Harry," the wizard continued, "let's get you packed." And the remaining things in Harry's room packed themselves neatly in the trunk which, in turn, closed and latched the belongings firmly inside.

Harry, meanwhile, was coaxing a stubborn Hedwig back into her cage, and, though she nicked his finger with her beak, she was finally compliant. As he clicked the lock shut, he turned expectantly towards the Headmaster who nodded once and retreated back down the narrow staircase with the trunk floating smoothly along behind him and Harry trailing the trunk.

As they left Harry's home on Privet Drive, Harry noticed a noise, or rather, a lack of noise, "Sir," he began slowly.

"Ah, dear boy, noticing the absence of your aunt and uncle are you? Well, I should think at this time of night, they'd best be asleep." Dumbledore winked at Harry.

"Do you mean-"

"No, Harry, they'll be up and about in just mere moments so I must insist we get a move on before they notice your absence."

Harry refrained from chuckling. They hadn't been noticing his disappearances all summer and he doubted they'd begin to now. Then, a thought struck him.

"Headmaster, why'd the letter come from Mrs. Weasley?" He asked, referring to the letter inviting him to stay the last two weeks of summer break at the Burrow. As he waited for the response, a growing unease developed in the pit of his stomach. Ron hadn't written to him at all over the summer, maybe he was bored of Harry and wouldn't want him around.

"Melancholy thoughts don't bode well at times such as these." Was Dumbledore's only response.

As they arrived just outside of the wards around the Burrow, Harry's thoughts took a darker turn. Now, he was no longer just contemplating if he was wanted here, but also if he was giving up two weeks to be spent with his new friend only to be a disappointing wallflower in the Weasley's home.

It was just as they neared the door that a very frazzled woman came flying madly at them and flung herself at Harry.

"Oh! Oh! My dear boy, they must have been starving you! Absolutely starving!" Cried Molly Weasley.

As the plump woman released him to corral him into the kitchen, Harry saw a small and very shocked-looking mirror of Mrs. Weasley's face in the kitchen window, just as the curtain fell back over it.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He was sure that had been Ginny, but why had she leapt back from the window so quickly?

His answer came not two steps later as a gaggle of red-haired children swept across the lawn towards him with shouts of "Harry!" and "Why didn't you say you were coming?"

The majority of his fears were put to rest as he realised Molly had invited him as a surprise for the Weasley clan. Still, however, the nagging thought of leaving behind his warm bed with his friend was subduing.

Quickly, over the passing hours, during which Dumbledore left, but Arthur, Bill, and Fleur arrived down the stairs, Harry's mind was put at ease. They told him Dumbledore had forbidden letters to keep him safe. While this didn't make him explicitly at ease, he was willing to forgive them. Soon, he was chatting away with his old friends over a hot plate of Molly's best sausages.

Still, however often Harry tried to bring it up, no news of the outside world was to be gleaned from this crowd. Any chance the conversation had of turning to a potentially insightful conversation was stopped short by an offhand remark from Molly about this or that of his summer activities. And because Harry was not particularly keen on discussing his summer pastimes, he steered clear of topics that would allow for Mrs. Weasley to intervene.

Instead, he opted to ask about the classes Ron and Ginny would be taking, inciting a fevered debate between the twins and Ginny on how she was "becoming a Percy" and was soon to be more of an insufferable know-it-all than she already was.

As it was fast approaching daylight, Molly bid them to go to bed. Happily they all ascended the stairs and climbed into their beds to fall fast asleep the moment their tired little heads hit their pillows.