7th year at Hogwarts

Dear Ron,

Thanks for the invitation to stay at your house. Professor Dumbledore wants me to stay here for another week or so, until I turn 17. Then I have to take my Apparation test in London, and get a few things squared away at Gringotts. Something to do with my assets and the things my parents left me. So I'll be able to come in about two weeks.
How are things at the Burrow? Tell Fred congratulations for me, I read about him and Angelina in the Daily Prophet yesterday! That's just brilliant! So, how are your Mum and Ginny lately?

Harry paused, sucking on the end of his quill. 'How will Ron read that?' he thought as he re-read the question with Ginny's name in it, his stomach flipped and his heart beat more rapidly. He nodded, satisfied that it seemed innocent and inconspicuous enough, and continued writing.

I have to go now, so I'll wrap it up, and I'll post you again from Diagon Alley, when I can come and stay at the Burrow. Say hi to Ginny and your Mum for me!
Your Friend,
Harry

P.S. please watch Hedwig for a week for me.

He tied the scroll to Hedwig's leg, and patted her on the head. "Take care, and come find me in Diagon Alley in about a week." He watched dejectedly as his last tie to the wizarding world flew out the open window to the starry night sky. He pulled off his shirt, revealing his trim, firm chest. Rummaging through his wardrobe, he found one of Dudley's old t- shirts and pulled it on.
He walked unhurriedly over to the worn bed, and pulled the thread bare sheets up over his chest and curled up. Forgetting the lights, he crawled out of bed and crossed the room to the switch. He flicked the switch, and the room was dark. Feeling his way back to bed, he rolled onto his side and pulled his feet underneath him, so they didn't stick off the end of the bed that Dudley had outgrown and worn out years ago, the too- short bed that he was rapidly getting too tall for.

Mornings at the burrow were slow and easy... it was only Ginny and Ron left at home with their mum and dad, and breakfast had become an everybody gets their own deal. Ginny was just pouring herself an orange juice when Hedwig came soaring through the door. -Ron! Hedwig's here with Harry's reply!- Ginny yelled to her brother up the stairwell as she pet the birds head and untied the scroll from her leg. -Read it! I don't feel like getting up!- He bellowed back from his room.
Ginny picked the scroll up off of the table where she had set it and unrolled it. She quickly scanned the first sentence for bad news, or an announcement of emergency of some kind. Seeing nothing, she put the letter back down, not wanting to read Ron's mail.
She went back to her orange juice, unaware that somewhere in Surrey, she had crossed the mind of a 16 year old boy with shiny round lens glasses and messy ink-black hair, and a scar shaped like a lightening bolt on his forehead.
Ginny Weasley was on Harry Potter's mind... a lot lately. Ron slowly made his way downstairs to the Burrow's cozy kitchen. Ginny was standing at the sink cleaning up after her breakfast, and their mum had just entered and was sitting at the table writing out a shopping list. "It's about time Ronald," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she looked up at her son, and then to the clock which read ten 'til eleven, "Ginny says you have a letter from Harry, it's on the counter."
"Oi, Ginny, what's it say?" Ron asked.
"I dunno Ron, I only read the first line to see if anything was wrong. All it said was something about your invitation. Read it for yourself." Ginny replied.
Ron picked up the scroll and unrolled it. He plopped down unceremoniously in a chair at the table and sighed. "He can't come for a few weeks..." he mumbled aloud, "something with Dumbledore, Apparation license.... He says congratulations to Forge..." Ron's lips kept moving as his eyes scanned the page. Ginny stood at the sink trying not to make any noise so that she could pick up what Ron read aloud. Ron sighed again as he put the letter down. "He asked about you mum."
"Oh how considerate of him," Mrs. Weasley commented.
"You too Ginny, he said to say 'Hi' to you both, and to watch Hedwig for him for a while." Ron said miserably.
"Do cheer up, love. It's only two weeks, at least he can come at all!" Mrs. Weasley reassured her son.
"I'm just so bored here without my friends." Ron bemoaned.
"Look, pea-brain, it's not as if I'm from another planet, I'm only a year younger you know. You can hang out with me, don't worry know one from the outside world has to know you hung with your sister over- break." Ginny huffed.
"Sure, we'll play quidditch later, Gin." Ron said in a laid back tone.
He got up from the table and made himself some toast. Finishing up with the last crusts, he walked over to Hedwig, who was perched on the window sill and offered his arm. She hopped on, and he started to climb the stairs back to his room.

Meanwhile, in another part of England, Harry Potter was hunched over a flower bed, with dirt on his knees and clothes, sweat dripping down his face, neck and back, and compost under his nails. Outside Number 4 Privet Drive, the lawn was flawlessly mowed, with neat little tracks left from the wheels of the mower cutting diagonally across the carpet of green, and a sharp and definite edge around the borders of the property, and lining the driveway and footpath.
Beneath the open bay windows of the Dursley's living room, Harry was spreading mulch and soil around newly planted begonias, which were of course, arranged in neat little rows. He raised his forearm and wiped the sweat of his forehead. Scrunching up his nose, he tilted his head back and sneezed. He adjusted his glasses and went back to work. The sun was climbing high into the sky, and he could feel the back of his neck burning. 'Great, a weird sunburn line...' he thought. Standing up to his full height of 6'2", he brushed the dirt off of his clothes and reached over his shoulder with one hand to pull of the extra large tee shirt that was stuck to his sweaty chest and back. He flung the shirt onto the sidewalk. Any girl walking by would be very impressed with the gorgeous body of the young man in the flower bed. Harry, on the other hand, didn't notice anything special about his looks, and I suppose that made him all the more appealing.
Just as he reached a brown, dirt covered hand over to pick up the carton of flowers to plant one, an ear piercing scream rent the air, coming from inside the house at Number 4 Privet Drive. A neighbor down the street who was out washing his car looked up the street to see what the commotion was, but Harry didn't notice. Harry already had his wand pulled out from his waistband, and was crouched beneath the window, flat to the house.
His Aunt Petunia was inside, staring at the fire place of her house, which had been covered and out of order not even thirty seconds ago. Now there was a roaring fire in place of the cover, and an elderly man's head sitting in the flames. He had a bemused expression on his face, and he waited patiently for the poor woman to recover. "Good afternoon, Petunia. I'm sorry for startling you. If you don't remember, my name is.."
"DUMBLEDORE!" the thin blond woman shrieked, "How dare you!" she hissed as she clutched her chest.
Harry stood up rapidly as he heard the name from the window, and hit his head against the open window as he did, causing a loud crash. Another petrified shriek, not quite as loud as the first came from Aunt Petunia, and she sighed with aggravated relief as she saw the messy hair of her nephew below the sill. Dumbledore laughed from the hearth, and Harry, who was rubbing his head, rushed from the window, and entered the house at the front door a moment later.
He rushed to the fireplace, and knelt on the carpet. "Professor! What's wrong? Why are you here?" Harry breathed.
Petunia Dursley glared at the boy, and muttered a quite remark about tracking mud through the spotless house, and slowly got up from her seat on the couch. She fled to the kitchen, where Harry and Dumbledore could hear her bustling around, if they cared to listen.
"Harry, my boy, nothing is wrong, calm yourself. I just wanted to let you know I'll be by Arabella Figg's house tomorrow at five to pick you up. Please have all of your things ready, we will most definitely be in a hurry."
"Why did you need to Floo to tell me that, and why are we leaving earlier than planned, Professor?" Harry asked his mentor.
"Harry, there have been several crucial owl messages that have disappeared en route earlier this week, and that eliminates the choice of owl communication with you, and also creates a need to expedite your removal, in case our original plans were compromised. I have to go now, there is a meeting in a few minutes, and I need to speak to Remus beforehand. Good afternoon," said the old wizard with a nod. In the blink of an eye, Professor Dumbledore was gone, and the old fireplace was exactly as it normally is.
Petunia stood in the doorway from the kitchen, her hand resting on a vacuum cleaner. She cleared her throat to get Harry's attention, and looked silently from the dirt tracks on her carpet to the vacuum, and then to Harry. Without saying anything, she turned on her heel and Harry could hear her climbing the stairs, before he turned on the noise vacuum cleaner and started cleaning.