Disclaimer: obviously, all characters belong to JKR.

AN: I have seen quite a lot of stories about Harry suddenly starting to learn advanced magic... This is a slightly different scenario.

As nothing lasts forever, neither does the school year. The sad truth was however, he was to spend several weeks with three magic-hating people - who actually turned him into the street last time they met - and nothing would cheer him up, not even the Headmaster saying he wanted to talk to him before the holidays.

"Harry, I'm sure you understand that since there's a certain Dark Wizard planning to kill you, I won't leave you unprotected," said Dumbledore.

"I'll move to Sirius?" exclaimed Harry. "That's wonderful! I've always wanted to have a normal family!"

"I'm afraid you're missing the point," stated Headmaster. "While it is true that you are going to live in the same house as your godfather, I was rather going to tell you that in the near future, you will need to run after Voldemort's Horcruxes and you have to be prepared for every possible situation. Thus, instead of gardening and annoying your cousin you will learn various abilities that might prove useful during your Horcrux hunt."

...

"Professor, what's a Horcrux?"

He was sitting at the table in one of the unused rooms, waiting for the man opposite him to pour the green liquid into the glasses. The potion gurgled loudly.

Each of them took a shot.

"Potter, please focus on not letting me inside your mind this time," said Snape.

"I'll do my best, professor."

"Legilimens!"

Thank Merlin for his teachers most recent invention: Super Strong Calming Draught for Teaching Ignorant Nitwits.

"MRS. WEASLEY, IT BURNS!"

And he would have thought cooking with magic was easier...

Yellow eyes... Long, muscular body... Black scales growing from the skin... He blinked and ended the visualization.

"I think I have it, professor."

"If I may ask, Potter," said professor McGonagall, "what species did you chose for your Animagus form?"

Dumbledore continued pacing around the table.

"It's possible," he said. "Riddle would see 'normal' food as a sign a humanity and thus weakness, while a well-brewed mixture is perfectly acceptable."

"If not potions abuse, it may be an ordinary psychosis," said Harry, flipping the page of what looked like a Muggle scientific lexicon. "Since early age - delusions, stress, sociopathy. Perhaps together with hallucinations, though we can't be sure of this one."

"It may go also with OCPD - he follows the same routine every day. Wears black only, keeps his belongings in order that could make your aunt feel ashamed."

"Or he's got the ordinary Muggle-hatred syndrome. You know, professor, a year ago I wouldn't even think it's possible to find out so much about Voldemort basing just on several memories."

He put down the book. The title read, Psychoanalysis and psychiatry research in XX century.

A snow owl swooped through the window of number four, Privet Drive. It dropped a slip of parchment, which was picked up by a pig-like boy devouring an innocent hamburger.

Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,

please, can I come back to you next summer? Pretty please?

Harry