AN: Obviously I don't own this. My writing could never compare to J K Rowling's. Anything in the plot you recognize, such as books or any brand names I may use DO NOT belong to me. This is my disclaimer. I have read a lot of Fan Fics, though, so some elements of my story may resemble or echo another story. I apologize if I subconsciously mimic any part of an original work without permission. If you are reading this and see something like that, feel free to leave the author and the part of the story I may be copying and I'll give credit where it is due. This disclaimer covers the entire story, as I'm not up to putting it on every chapter. No one reads the disclaimers after the first chapter, anyways. If you don't like it, I'm open to criticism. Just make it constructive. Flames without purpose leads to sucky writing forever, and no one wants that. Alrighty, thanks for reading.

CHAPTER ONE:

Of Riddles and Housework

Losing sight of a problem does not mean that it is forever gone. Things have a way of repeating themselves, especially if you some how avoided them the first time around. Some call it de-ja-vu, others call it coincidence, but one thing that everyone agrees to is that you never expect it. But hey, what goes around comes around, doesn't it?

A dim light could be seen coming from a small brick house located between house number two and house number six. In the pitch black night, it was clearly obvious that the only person awake on Privet Drive was in a room on the second story. Short gasps of light would be seen from the barred window; most people would've just assumed that the person residing in that room had been watching something on a television set. There were very few people who would recognize it for what it was. A Blinking Star, a relatively new invention.

A gust of wind rushed past the sill of the wide open window where the light was settled, and Harry Potter looked up sharply. He got off of his position on the scuffed hardwood floor to make his way to his window. He was searching the skies and streets frantically for a sign, any sign, of life in the darkest hours of night. The sound of a page turning brought his eyes automatically to the stack of papers that had been shoved in his trunk earlier that month. Harry quickly made his way to the hazardously placed trunk by the door. He searched through the bulky box, pulling out a rather large book. He wore a confused look and realized that he didn't recognize it. Harry opened up to the first page where a rumpled piece of parchment was placed. Harry pulled the paper out of the book and read it silently to himself.

Harry,
I stumbled upon this book in London around Christmas. I bought it as a present for myself (don't comment...), but with recent events, I thought that you might find more use with it than I would have. It helps the mind to, um, focus in areas that I am sure that you have not explored. If you don't want it, I would be happy to take it back, but please try it. It might help your mind become trained and alert. Oh, by the way, I'll see you on August 5! Surprise! This year, you're coming over my house for half of the holidays! I'm sorry I didn't ask you, but it was rather last minute, and from what you've told me about your relatives, taking you away a little early won't break anyone's heart. On the twentieth we will drive to the Burrow to stay for the remainder of the holidays. I'll let you know what time I will pick you up at your house. Four Privet Drive, correct? Anyways, I can't wait to see you! This is the first time my parents have met another wizard in six years, so be warned.
Love,
Hermione

Harry closed the book and looked it over. It was leather bound and had that new parchment smell. It had a maroon spine, but the front and back cover were both gold. It was titled ** The Big Book of Riddles, Puzzles, and Enigmas. He opened it to a random page, page 144, and read out loud in the dead silence of the night.

"Fuses," Harry said taking a deep breath, not believing that it would draw his mind out.

"Fuses:

Merlin must let a potion settle for exactly 45 minutes, but he has no device for measuring time.
On the other hand, he does have a torch and two fuses, which will burn in one hour, but in an irregular fashion (half of a fuse will not be consumed in 30 minutes).
How can the wizard measure exactly 45 minutes?"

Harry thought about it. Well, if they burn in an irregular fashion, then you can't just wait for it to be 3/4 done; but, on the other hand, it will burn in exactly an hour... umm... maybe he'll invent a spell? No, no, I can tell this is a muggle book just by the way the pictures don't move.

Harry spent the next 45 minutes trying to figure it out before referring to the back to find the correct answer.

"First of all, Merlin lights fuses A, B, and C, at the same time.

A - B C - D

When the first fuse (AB) is entirely consumed, 30 minutes will have gone by. Merlin will then light D and the 30 minutes of fuse (CD) remaining will be consumed in 15 minutes, because 30 min + 15 min = 45 min."

Before Harry could even think over the solution, he turned to another (this time a riddle) and read to himself, determined to get the next one correct. By the time he looked up from the confusing tome, it was nearing six. Three hours had passed since he first opened the book, apparently, if the clock on his bedside table was correct. He walked up to his calendar that he had conjured at Hogwarts (got an O on a practical charms exam, Harry was proud to say) to see that it was August 1st. Still four days until I leave, apparently. Ugh... breakfast time.

Harry stumbled down the stairs, barely avoiding a nasty fall, to the kitchen. No one was awake yet, but Harry preferred not to see them that early in the morning, anyways. Harry would cook the food—he was a well accomplished chef after eleven years of cooking for the Dursleys—and lay it in the rather large microwave to keep the food warm. This was the one meal a day that Harry consistently could eat as much as he wanted to; if his uncle didn't know that there was originally more food, and then it was safe for Harry to eat. Today, Harry was supposed to make an even larger amount of eggs, bacon, orange juice, and biscuits, for Aunt Petunia let Harry know by a way of a note stuck to the fridge that Dudley had a few friends spend the night last night (not that Harry couldn't tell by the sound similar to a heard of elephants going up and down the stairs all night). Knowing that when it came to Dudley a few wasn't an actual few (it was more like ten or fifteen), Harry slaved over the stovetop and was constantly checking the oven for any imperfections with the biscuits. By the time the gang of peoplecame down to eat, Harry had finished what felt like his tenth dozen of everything, eating about ten things that proved to be his surplus before anyone ever came down. He had just put the plates of food on the oak serving table and turning everything off when the stampede entered the kitchen, getting crumbs and grease over everything as they tried to get food and find a place to eat as the table only fit five. Harry went up to his room to write Hermione, Ron, and the twins letters. After about two hours and three letters, Harry retired to bed for a quick lie-in before getting up and tending to the outside chores

After a cool shower Harry went down the staircase for the second time that day. He made his way to the kitchen where his daily chores were. Uhhh... Let's see here: sweeping, vacuuming, washing dishes, mopping, trimming the greenery, watering the plants, and pulling weeds. Great, this is just what I need, more work!

Harry walked to the other side of the room and pulled out a sponge and some gloves. He set to work with a stoic expression dominating his face.

Just as he had finished trimming the greenery, a black car pulled up to the curb outside of number four. He didn't say anything, didn't make any action to show that he saw the people. The Dursleys were home still, so that pretty much eliminated that possibility. If they were expecting company, they would have sent Dudley's friends home. Since there were no answers to these questions, he went back to work. He pulled out the list from his back jeans pocket. Umm, let's see. I've already done the sweeping,vacuuming, dishes, mopping, trimming the greenery, watering the plants, and moving the kitchen back into order. So, all I have left to do is pull a few weeds. And with that, he put the list back into the pocket, grabbed the old baseball cap off his head to air it out, and got down on all fours to start pulling the multiple weeds from the ground. Although he never stirred from his work, he was acutely aware that the car had not yet moved.

Hermione sat in her car, just watching the black haired, green eyed boy. She was a bit nervous about getting out. She had never met his family before, and from the horror stories that the Weasleys had told her, she didn't think that she ever wanted to. She was supposed to arrive in a few more days, but her family's plans had changed, and they were leaving to go to her grandmother's house tomorrow. So, here she was, sitting in her car like a coward, just staring at the boy-who-picks-weeds.

"Come on, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor. You've gone against serial killers. You can face one of you're best friends." She stood and got out of the shining black car, closing the door and locking it. She made her way slowly, cautiously, towards Harry. She noticed him stiffen a bit and figured that he had noticed her. Next thing she knew, her back was on the ground and Harry was straddling her, his wand barely visible underneath his sleeve.

She waited for the look of recognition to pass. She waited for the apologetic look and the apology. She waited for him to jump up off of her and ask her why she was there. She waited and waited, but none came.

"H-Harry... Could you, umm, could you maybe get off... Please?" Finally, the look came. And with the look came the apology. And with the apology came the question.

"Yes, yes, I would tell you all about it if only I could breathe," she responded.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry! Umm, here- here you go," he said, pulling her off the ground and up to her feet. His face turned red, and his eyes were apologetic.

"It's fine, don't fret about me. Alrighty, how about we go inside and I'll answer all those questions," she said.

"Oh, umm, alright, but you have to be really quiet, alright?"

"Of course."

With that, they made their way to the front door, making sure to step lightly and breathe quietly. Harry creaked open the door and looked inside. They would have to pass about five of Dudley's friends who were sitting on the couch, but thankfully, Dudley himself was no where in sight. He turned to Hermione to tell her that she should ignore any comments or insults or anything that she might hear on their apparently very dangerous journey upstairs. She nodded, and they proceeded forward.

Once inside, Harry closed the door as quietly as he could. The stairs were to their right, and the sitting room, where the boys were laughing obnoxiously over a boxing match on the television, was to their left. Harry led the way, steering right. They were almost halfway up when Harry stepped on a creaky step and one of the boys, a redhead with an athletic build and an Irish accent, noticed them.

"'Ey, lookie 'ere! Wee 'ittle 'Arry gots a girl! A 'ot one, too! Wou'dn't mind me ta 'ave some a 'er!"

"Hey, guys, Brute's right! Harry's got a chick!"

"Harry's got a what?"

"Can't be!"

"Aw, hell, why does he get the cute one?"

So the comments were shot at them, and their pace quickened to a run as to not get the attention of any of the others. Just as they were almost to Harry's door, Hermione turned around and ran back suddenly. He just stood there for a second before trying to catch up with her, but by the time that he was halfway there she was running past him back to the door. He turned around, stared for a second, and rushed back to his room. Not even a second after he was in the room, she closed the door and whispered "Imperturbatus" at the door, successfully blocking the door from eavesdroppers.

"Alright, so what do you want to know?" Hermione asked.

"Well, first off, I want to know how you did those spells. Won't you get in trouble?"

"Nope, I'm already seventeen, remember? I'll be eighteen in September.

"Oh yeah, I always forget you're an old woman. Well, why'd you run back? Did you drop something?"

"No, I didn't drop anything. I went back to quickly erase their memories. And, no, I won't get in trouble seeing as since I did it to all of them at the same time; there was no other muggle to witness it. Next."

"Umm, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

"Oh, that. Well, my family's plans had changed, so—"

"So you're not going to have me over..."

"No, you interrupted me. I was saying that I was here to pick you up early so that we could go to my grandma's house for four days. I thought about calling, but I figured that your relatives wouldn't give you the message anyways, and an owl would be too slow. So, here I am."

"Since when do you drive?"

"I got my license during the Christmas holidays after I turned sixteen. Then, Dad bought me a car that following summer, after fifth year."

"Why am I going over your house this summer before going to the Burrow in the first place?"

"Well, the Weasleys were going to have you over for a longer time this year, but they are going to visit Charley in Romania. So, I offered to, and my parents agreed. I hope you don't mind, I mean, we kind of didn't ask for your opinion before doing this."

"No, it's fine. Anywhere away from this hellhole is good."

Hermione laughed, "Anymore questions, then?"

"One more, what happened to your hair?"

"Oh, umm, it kind of settled out. I don't really care about my hair, but it is easier to take care of, so I guess I like it," she said, running her hands through her silky curls self-consciously.

"Oh, it doesn't look bad, I was just curious," Harry said, sensing her discomfort.

"Okay, well if that's the end of your questions, then you need to pack and we'll be off."

"Pack? I never unpacked! I just need to grab a few more things..."

She tuned out his small talk ramblings and focused on studying his room. Although it wasn't a closet, it could certainly pass as one. There were clothes scattered all over the floor, clean and dirty. There were no personal touches anywhere, no paint on the walls, no pictures lining the small amount of space available, no books or posters. Simply put, it was a completely impersonal space. You couldn't even call it a room, for it wasn't nearly big enough to be considered one. There was a solitary window right next to the bed. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary window, but when one truly looked at it, they could see the remains of metal bars that used to run up and down along the window, ensuring that no one gets in or out. Some time ago, someone must have broken them to free the prisoner of the space. Hermione could only close her eyes at this, now seeing the proof of the Weasley twins' tale that they told her of in second year.

"You ready yet?" Hermione asked.

"Just about. I just can't seem to find—ah, here it is!" said Harry, stuffing the photo album from Hagrid into his trunk.

"Okay, let's get going then," said Hermione, eyeing the entirely too small trunk considering that it was holding all of his belongings in the room.

"Oh, and Harry," Hermione said with confidence, "we're going to go do a little shopping before we go back to my place."

Harry swallowed. "...Shopping?..."