Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Harry Potter was no ordinary young man, not in the least. For one, he was a wizard, and what wizard- or witch, for that matter- could seem normal from a Muggle's point of view? Two, he was turning sixteen in two weeks, and was not planning to celebrate this moment occasion. Any other fifteen-year old wizard would be celebrating, but Harry had shut his mind firmly against it. And three, he was being hunted by the most feared Dark Lord in the history of magic: Lord Voldemort.

But Harry Potter was not consciously aware of these things at this moment. Because on Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, Harry was fast asleep, dreaming of his parents and his godfather, Sirius Black, who had been killed by Voldemort's Death Eaters in June. Harry's parents had been dead for fifteen years, killed just before Voldemort's first attempt to kill Harry. His attempt had, of course, failed, as Harry was still alive today, and had set Harry down in history for something he didn't even remember.

Harry Potter was a tall man with messy hair that never lay flat no matter what he did to it. He had bright green eyes and a pale complexion. He was taller now, and lanky, wearing clothes over five sizes too large, having been once owned by his cousin, Dudley. He wore circular glasses, taped together at the bridge that held them together- another of Dudley's additions to Harry's wardrobe. But the most notable feature on Harry's face was that of his scar, shaped like a lightening bolt. Long, thin, and red, it was the only remaining mark of Voldemort's curse. It hung just above his right eyebrow.

Harry fitfully groaned and turned over. His dreams had begun to turn into nightmares, something that occurred every night no matter how hard he tried to practice Occlumency (an obscure branch of magic that Harry had attempted to learn last year). He saw his father dead…his mother…heard the high, cold, cruel laugh…Sirius was dead now, and Bealltrix Lestrange stood and laughed…a flash of green light, and the snake-like eyes…Harry woke up, panting. Glancing around the room, as if in reassurance, he noticed two odd things: one, there were three owls staring at him, and two, Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Harry's school and one of the most powerful wizards of the time, was standing by Harry's door.

"Good evening, Harry," he said softly. "Or perhaps I should say 'Good morning'." There was a twinkle in his blue eyes behind the moon spectacles he wore.

"Hello, Professor," Harry replied, staring at him. "What are you-"

"What am I doing here, in your bedroom?" Dumbledore chuckled. A ray of moonlight fell onto his face, and Harry say how much older he had become in the short space of time they had been apart. Dumbledore was always old, his hair long and silver, his face wrinkled. But he had never lost the sense of his youth. Now, however, that was almost gone, and it was replaced by a look of eternal sadness. "I should think it obvious, Harry. I came to see you and escort you to Grimmauld Place." Harry's heart leapt.

For three weeks he had been at the Dursely's, merely for the sake of his own protection against Voldemort. Needless to say, it had not been an enjoyable experience. His aunt and uncle were alternately glaring at him and ignoring him, and his cousin fled from his presence. He found it easiest to stay in his room and do his summer homework.

"I also have with me," Dumbledore continued, "your O.W.L.'s, your course selections, and your friend's letters." He stretched out a hand towards the two barn owls, both of which swooped over and dropped several wads of parchment onto his lap. The third owl was his own, Hedwig, and she merely looked at him. Harry tore open his letters eagerly.

Dear Mr. Potter, the letter containing his O.W.L.'s read,

We are pleased to provide you with your Ordinary Wizarding Level test scores:

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

Potions: Outstanding

Harry almost dropped the letter in shock. Dumbledore smiled.

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Divination: Dreadful

History of Magic: Dreadful

Astronomy: Exceeds Expectations

With this, we are pleased to present you with a total of six O.W.L.'s. We hope this will be sufficient for you to continue down whatever career path you have in mind.

Have a very good day.

Yours sincerely,

Griselda Marchbanks.

Griselda Marchbanks, Head of O.W.L. Testing, etc.

Harry closed the letter in shock. Dumbledore was grinning widely.

"Six," Harry gasped. "And 'Outstanding' in Potions?" Dumbeldore nodded. "How?"

"Well, Harry, it appears that Professor Snape's dislike of you…led him to grade you rather unfairly over the years." Harry nodded, easily seeing his slimy Potion teacher pulling something like that. "And now, Harry," Dumbledore said with a flick of his wand. All of Harry's things neatly folded, arranged, closed, rolled, and got themselves together back into Harry's trunk. "I believe it is time for us to depart." He pulled out a tiny globe out of the pockets of his deep robe. "You shall be taking a Portkey."

"What about you, Professor?"

"I shall be Apparating. Grab your trunk, Harry," and Harry obliged, placing a finger on the glove. "3…2...1…" and Harry felt a jerking in his navel. He disappeared amid a flash of color. It happened so suddenly that Harry woke up into bright sunlight and the soft clucking of the four brown owls and one snowy owl. He was still at Number 4, Privet Drive.

a mostly descriptive chapter, but an intro anyway...

lazi.

P.S. R&R please!