Before you read, I only want to remind you the wizarding world, character and everything belong to JK Rowling, and ask your feedback, impressions and comments!
Aiming to post a new chapter every Tuesday. Thank you for reading!
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Chapter 1: Boredom and Birthdays

Harry awoke abruptly with an eerie feeling that he'd had the same dream before, but recalling only a residual impression of a strange, dreary manor covered in brittle, weathered ivy. Disregarding the déjà vu, he shook awake.

It was odd, he thought, that he'd dream of a place he'd never been. He'd never vacationed anywhere. A visit to a rural village, even in a dream, was noteworthy.

Putting on his circular glasses, Harry observed the start of a brilliant summer morning and knew that at this time of July there'd be scarcely any breeze down the street of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey.

Harry was a thoughtful young man of 13- almost 14 -years and, though sitting up in a drab bedroom which possessed a thin bed, white-painted wardrobe, wobbly desk and chair, he was nevertheless an unusual boy. Straightening his bed and retrieving his jeans and t-shirt from the back of the chair, Harry looked almost ordinary, if rather thin. He had startling green eyes and unruly, jet-black hair. Yet the angry, precise lightning bolt scar interrupting his pale forehead seemed to scream that he himself was just as out of place in the pale, little bedroom. He considered the view from his front-facing window, and thought how very much he didn't belong at Privet Drive. Having so far attended three years magical education at Hogwarts' School of a Witchcraft and Wizardry, he felt Hogwarts castle was home.

Passing a moment to indulge in this thought, it was time to get moving. Harry had perfected his morning routine this summer, and things were going quite smoothly compared to other years! Step one had been to inform his guardians of his dear godfather and escaped convict, Sirius Black. Yes, the man was on the run and would be checking in on Harry with periodic letters, by owl post, to make sure Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't need any help taking care of his godson. Vernon and Petunia Dursley had seen enough of fully qualified wizards to know they didn't want a mad escapee wizard popping in for tea. They allowed Harry use of his snowy owl, Hedwig, to deliver letters for this reason alone. He was quite pleased to have a wizard godfather who was in actual fact not a murderer and, unlike the Dursleys, cared very much about Harry. So far, he had wholly enjoyed being ignored by the Dursleys. In speaking to her nephew, Aunt Petunia had taken to using short, clipped tones, as though fewer words would avoid provoking Harry into sending an unsavory report. Dudley, his cousin, also home for the summer, was only interested in eating. His school had put him on a strict diet, but there were no restrictions for him at home. Uncle Vernon would loose a low snarl at the sight of Harry, but left Petunia to manage him. As no one sought him out, he could peacefully pass through the kitchen to the back garden and set about weeding the flower beds undisturbed.

Harry knew his aunt would need him in the kitchen soon to prepare a large fry-up for his oversized and neckless uncle and cousin. Getting to task of his own volition meant fewer screeching commands and barked reprimands, which in itself was quite motivating. He couldn't enjoy the quiet of the garden all day, so 9am found Harry freshened up, wearing a rather large smock and managing heavy pans of sizzling breakfast.

He spared no more thought to Hedwig until his uncle had departed in his company car, Dudley to his vigil at the living room television, and Petunia to wipe down the kitchen. Taking up the laundry, he thought of step two of his plan. As expected, end of term found Harry's school trunk complete with books, wand, quills and ink, tossed spitefully into the cupboard under the stairs. Uncle Vernon despised Harry's "freakish abnormality". He had glared contemptuously at Harry while turning a key in the lock so viciously it may have bent.

But not all his books were in there. Harry and one of his best school friends, Hermione, had worked out that she should take all of his homework things to her home and send them on later. They should be arriving any day. It was not like Hermione to undervalue the importance of getting school work done promptly.

The day proceeded as he'd hoped, with few commands from his aunt, finishing his chores and, after dinner time, retreating to his muggy bedroom to watch for Hedwig.

He had written to Hermione last week:

'Dear Hermione,

I hope your summer's going well! How're your parents? Thanks for helping me out with my books. Do you think you'll be able to send both my 'Magical Drafts and Potions' and 'Intermediate Transfiguration' with Hedwig to get me started?

Hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely,

Harry'

She had replied a few days later:

'Dear Harry,

My summer is going very well, thanks for asking! Mum and Dad are so very pleased to have me home. Of course, I'd like to send you your homework right away, but just now I'm swamped and I'll need a few days to get back to you.

I'll be in touch! Love,

Hermione'

Well, he'd just have to be patient. He'd write to Sirius. Perching at the desk, he addressed the letter and paused, his muggle pen rocking between two fingers. Then he wrote:

'Dear Padfoot,

My summer is going well, thanks to you! The very thought of you visiting our street has the Dursleys scared out of their shoes! Mind you, I hope you've got a hair cut since those Azkaban photos. I'm waiting for Hermione to send on my homework, bored out of my skin! I suppose I shouldn't complain to someone who's in hiding. Don't tell me where you are, or anything. Hope you're doing well. I'll write again when there's anything more to say... or when I'm back to school, whichever's first!

Sincerely,

Harry'

He scrolled it up, ready to send off later with Hedwig, then became very antsy. Where was Hermione? His other friend, Ron, he could count on to lose track of time, enjoying home life and Quidditch games in the meadow. Although, come to think of it, it was odd Ron hadn't sent any notes with his new little owl since school had ended. Harry was being way too suspicious of the two people closest to him. Seized by boredom, he grabbed the notepaper again and started to list charms, complete with pronunciation symbols, one after the next until his chicken scratch lettering filled the page! Next, potions, he thought to himself, we did Pepper Up, Stilling Draught, Shrinking Solution... and the key ingredients... why their properties were crucial to the potion's designation. He wished he had his Book of Potions, of all things. Bored! Finally, while listening variations of valerian preparation, he dozed off, sprawled over his covers.

*Hsssssssss*

"'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry awoke with a start. A dream, he thought. An old man, and... Wormtail! And Voldemort's voice, Voldemort alive, Voldemort killing someone. Why am I dreaming this?

More importantly, could he remember what the dream Voldemort had said? He realized he'd forgotten to breathe and gasped, pain searing from his throbbing scar.

Harry pulled his cold pillow over his face and tried to recall the dream. He'd dreamt Voldemort and Wormtail were talking about him, in the room of a decrepit mansion. They had killed- he had killed- the other man, who clearly was muggle, as he's known nothing of magic terms, like Quidditch.

"Ha!" Harry laughed to himself, naturally he remembered the part of the dream that had Quidditch in it. But, wherever the men were, it was far from respectable Privet Drive, no doubt, he reassured himself.

He grabbed his letter to Sirius, about to add to it with his concern, then stopped. His falsely imprisoned godfather, on the run and alone, shouldn't be burdened by Harry's trivial scar issues. He was not sure what he expected from Sirius, only that Sirius was... the first adult to look at Harry and see him, the real him, and not the Boy-Who-Lived. It grated on him to be famous for surviving his parents' murder. For defeating 'the most dangerous wizard of the age', as though a one year old could possibly do so. Sirius had been like a brother to James Potter, like an uncle to Harry, scar or no scar. He sighed, the expression in his bright, green eyes punctured with doubt.

Then, having had a thought, he moved his pen deliberately over a new page. His Defense Against the Dark Arts professor of the previous year had advised him on a similar predicament, so wasn't as likely as some to become overexcited by an odd dream.

'Dear Professor Lupin,

I hope you're doing well. I'm writing because my scar hurt, just now, after a dream I had. Only, it was less a dream and more a conversation between Wormy and Voldy, so now I'm wondering- does the scar hurt when he's near, or for some other reason? No one really knows about my curse scar or strange connection to him, but I thought I should let someone know about the dream anyway, and if it was related to some dark activity or other, you can probably find out and give Dumbledore a heads up.'

Harry was feeling more awake now and fearful of rambling in his letter, so finished up,

'If you have any notes to recap our Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons from last year, please send them along with Hedwig. Without something to do, I'll go crazy by September!

Wishing you all the best, sincerely,

Harry'

Harry was starting to draft another letter to Hermione, feeling he might as well, when - "Screech!"

Hedwig! He opened the small window, which she glided toward in a graceful arc, turning impossibly fast to swoop in, and landing atop the wardrobe.

"Welcome home!" Harry crooned, so truly glad to see her that it took a moment to notice she held no letters.

"Have you been to Hermione, Hedwig? What's she up to?" he mumbled.

He fed her some smuggled bacon and owl treats from under his floorboard.

'Well,' he thought, 'time to greet the day.'

This time, he began in the front garden, tilling the dirt until his hands blistered, and tossing weeds neatly in a bucket so not a one would remain to provoke his aunt's ire. When the ground was pristine, he mowed, then swept the walk which was when he heard the phone's trill. He carefully disrobed of his garden attire, washed up.

"How long's the phone been ringing?" he remarked to Dudley.

"Phone? Dunno," Dudley harrumphed.

Harry answered, "Dursley residence, how may I help you?"

"Harry!" said a breathless female voice into the phone, "it's me, Hermione, I'm calling to ask if we can have tea!"

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Breathe, Hermione," he said, and then, "You've called me! Have tea? What d'you mean?"

"Well," Hermione seemed to be steeling herself, "My parents are going to introduce themselves to your relatives, and request that we be allowed to take you away for your birthday!"

"What, tomorrow?"

Harry was flabbergasted. Dudley was looking sideways at him rather than at the telly, so he probably looked ridiculous.

"When will your aunt be home? We need to do this properly."

"Whhaaattt?!"

Vernon Dursley was vibrating with anger, which never stilled him for long, so Harry was quick to answer and from the other side of the room, with a clear exit.

"Dr. Granger and Dr. Granger, both dentists, are in town with their daughter, Hermione. They've asked to meet you.

"They've asked to speak to you both over the phone first, as they're very big on manners."

He wanted to laugh, mostly out of nerves, and at the odd struggle behind Vernon's eyes as the man tried to reconcile his freak nephew with a respectable family of doctors.

'Rinnnnng.'

'Rinnnnnnnnng.'

"I suppose that will be the Grangers calling, shall I answer?" said Harry. He noted Vernon's almost imperceptible spasm of assent.

The next day was his birthday! Harry awoke, by some auto-magic trigger, the moment it was July 31st. Hedwig made a soft hooting sound, so Harry shhhh'd her, but stroked her beak and asked if she'd like to deliver some letters. Away she went in search of The Marauders, Padfoot and Moony.

This was, by Harry's measure, an odd birthday morning. Just as he'd never once vacationed, he'd also never prepared for guests for his own birthday tea! It was best not to be nervous around the Dursleys, so he spent the morning making sure the home was visitor-clean, periodically mopping up Dudley's crumbs.

The Grangers arrived, dressed their best, very promptly and correctly, which, to Uncle Vernon, meant 'in a respectable car'. Hermione impressed Petunia by sitting politely and silently, and smiling kindly at "her Dudders" who was either struck dumb that Harry had company or was, well, just dumb. Harry felt a complete lack of control and gripped the chair beneath him all through tea, gritting through flashbacks of previous "company". But this was fine, actually, Petunia was clearing up and the Grangers nodding and smiling. So, they'd managed to make it through tea. Although Harry hadn't paid attention to any details, he came to attention in time to hear Mr. Granger speak.

"Harry, do you need a hand collecting your school things?"

Staring from Jeanne Granger, to Doug Granger, to Hermione, to his guardians, Harry was at a loss for words.

"Ah," Vernon Dursley drew himself to full height -Harry cringed- but his uncle just walked to the hallway saying he would bring out the boy's trunk. Eyes wide, Harry realized they'd convinced uncle Vernon that Harry should leave for the summer!

Next to Hermione Granger in the back seat of a Ford Mondeo, the quartet motored away from Privet Drive.

"That was quite uncomfortable for you, Harry," said the bushy-haired girl, knowingly.

Her mum looked sympathetic.

"Hermione told us how best to deal with your guardians. That we should behave pleasantly and calmly so as not startle them. Bad experiences with past visitors?"

Her eyebrow raised exactly how Hermione's did when she was being coy.

"I must say," she continued without waiting for a reply, "that parody of a tea time took me quite back to my college theatre days."

Mr. Granger agreed in a low voice, "They did indeed seem quite taken with those very dull versions of ourselves!"

"Thank you very much, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I'm sorry, I think I missed where we're going?"

Hermione answered, "It's a surprise, Harry."

Rebounding from an unseemly level of stress, Harry was immediately in the mood to comply. He joked, "is this my surprise?" quite a number of time before they finally reached the Granger home.

"Is this..."

"Surprise!"

The Grangers' front door was magically opened, by magical Ron Weasley... and Fred, George, Ginny, and Molly Weasley. Hermione gripped Harry's arm delightedly.

"You had no idea!" she gloated.

"In we go, now," Mr. Granger commanded in a lighthearted way that made his daughter grin.

Harry's face was numb from grinning too, and his arm was being wrung by each of the Weasleys in turn. No one seemed to expect him to say much, which was nice. It was comforting to just be around his friends.

The chatting had not quite subsided before Ron loudly cried out, "Right! Present!"

Rather than tell him off, all of the red-haired, freckled Weaseleys were nodding in agreement. Surely they hadn't all gotten him gifts? Guilt rose in his chest. The Weasley family was very poor. It was only who Ron stood from the sofa, however.

"Mate, the Quidditch World Cup is next week- we're going!"

He was displaying a ticket with "Harry Potter" embossed on it! The gold seal that was the World Cup logo had Harry's eyes popping from their sockets.

Arthur Weasley, he found out quickly, had been owed a favor by Games and Sports director, Ludo Bagman, so had got them all tickets. Arthur hadn't meant to miss Harry's birthday, but had been summoned "last minute, you know", by a very urgent call regarding an Auror "Alastor Moody" and some... dust bins?

"Not to worry, dear," Mrs. Weasley simpered, "we'll have plenty of time to visit. Speaking of which, we're at your disposal! Where to this week, Harry? Diagon Alley, The Burrow?"

Mrs. Weasley kindly offered to shop for their school things herself, but Hermione for one would not forgo her annual pilgrimage to Flourish & Blotts bookstore! They compromised that Harry would stay a few days at the Grangers to finish up homework, visit Diagon Alley in London for a shopping day, then back to the Burrow before the World Cup. Hermione asked Ron if he'd like to stay, too, since his home was full to bursting with brothers and, of course, he would want to complete all of his school assignments!

"I suppose," she said worriedly, "we might finish everything in two days if we really focused."

"I think I'll catch you up in Diagon Alley on Thursday, rather," he said ruefully, with a glance at Harry, who nodded.

The shorter boy was fine with it, and made to rescue Ron from Hermione's judgement.

"Sure, you want to visit your brothers while they're in the country. I can't wait to meet Bill and Charlie at the World Cup!"

Ron's eldest brothers were graduated from Hogwarts, Bill to be a Curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank and Charlie to study dragons in Romania.

"We'll tell Arthur you said hello. See you both in London, dears!"

And with that, the Grangers and Harry waved goodbye to the Weasleys, who hopped into the fireplace. Green flames indicated this fireplace had been connected to 'the floo network'. This was uncommon for a muggle abode, but was obviously the best way to keep the Statute of Secrecy. Harry wondered how they'd all travel to the Cup.

Hermione and Harry debated magical transportation, wondering what Apparition felt like, and whether the infamous 'Knight Bus' was the only public vehicle catering to Wizarding Europe.

"I honestly wouldn't mind flying a broom everywhere, if it were allowed," said Harry, thinking of the nauseating floo sensation.

Hermione shook her bushy hair and made a face.

"Not me, buses before brooms."

The two relaxed and studied, a combination only possible with Hermione's supervision! Her parents busied in the background, jumping in with comments from time to time, or to ask what in the world was a hippogriff. At first, as they had laid out all their books and papers, Hermione was aflutter with concerns.

"I really couldn't send your books, you know Harry, or risk the Dursleys catching on. We did so want our plan to work!"

Harry was fine with it, but asked her, with an innocent head tilt, whether she might make it up to him by checking over his Potions work.

Most of the following day was spent on the Grangers' back porch, quizzing one another on counter-jinxes and hexes (Harry) and Charms (Hermione), while drinking iced tea. Next, they worked scrawling out a few feet of parchment on asphodel in various potions which they were to encounter during their fourth year at Hogwarts. It would be a nice change for Harry to feel prepared for the new school term. It was a bit keen of them, he knew, to do so much revising before school, but he was just glad to be with a friend, amid the pleasant chatter of her parents, and to be welcome.