A/N: I do not own any of the characters, plots, or anything else created by J.K. Rowling. Everything is borrowed in the hopes of keeping my mind occupied until the next REAL story is published. I hope you enjoy my story!

Chapter 1:
The bitter made better

Harry lay in his bed staring at the dark ceiling of Number 4 Privet Drive trying not to think about everything that had happened in the last few days. Twilight had fallen, by the snores reverberating from the other bedrooms he knew everyone else was asleep. He wished he had a dreamless sleeping draught, but that wasn't possible. He was stuck in the muggle world, and he didn't know how long it was going to be before he would be able to escape back to the wizarding world. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to go back to the wizarding world. Despite the fact he was trying to clear his mind, thoughts kept whirling around in vicious circles. Sirius was dead. First and foremost in his mind was that undeniable fact. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked rapidly to hold them at bay.

"Think of something else, Harry," he whispered fiercely to himself. A long sigh escaped him as the next thought hit him, "At least he's with my parents now." There was comfort in that thought. The three friends united again. Someday he would be able to join them. But responsibility held him in this world. The prophecy. Harry closed his eyes and could see Dumbledore's pensieve and the ghostlike form of Professor Trelawney uttering the words that were etched in his mind, one sentence kept reverberating over and over again.

Neither can live while the other survives. But what power did he have that Voldemort didn't? He was still just a teenager. Yet he had been attacked repeatedly since his eleventh birthday, actually since he was only one year old. Harry's fingers crept up and lightly traced the lightning bolt shaped scar on his brow. The scar that was the sign to all the world that the Dark Lord had tried to kill him, and failed. A grim smile crossed Harry's face as he softly spoke, "You failed when I was a baby. You failed when you tried to steal the Sorcerers Stone. Your memory failed to kill me. You failed to kill me in a duel. Your death eaters failed to kill me in the Department of Mysteries. You will fail again. I will not fail. For my parents, for Sirius, for all the wizarding world, IWILL NOT FAIL!" His scar throbbed one short, sharp, stabbing pain and then stopped.

Harry wondered if he had, inadvertently, sent a message to his enemy. 'I hope so' he thought angrily. He rolled to his side and forced his mind to think of other things. He tried to concentrate on his friends, Ron and Hermione, but all he could see was their worried expressions. He didn't want anyone to worry about him. He knew that there wasn't any help for it, they would worry no matter what, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

The moonlight was shining through his window, illuminating Hedwig's empty cage. He wished she were there with him. She was the only creature in this house that truly cared about him, and didn't flinch when he spoke. He concentrated on her snowy white feathers, and large expressive amber eyes, the way she would nibble his fingers with affection, how she loved being a post owl, holding her leg out for him to tie letters and packages to. At long last, he fell asleep.

"Hullo, Harry," came the voice Harry had never hoped to hear again.

His heart leapt in his chest and he spun around to see him, "SIRIUS!" he shouted happily, running to grab his godfather in a bear hug. Sirius held him close for a long moment, pressing his cheek against Harry's messy hair. Tears slid down Harry's cheeks, squeezing out from under eyes closed tight.

"Harry," Sirius finally spoke, his voice gruff with emotion as he gently eased his godson back far enough to meet his gaze. "Harry, we have to talk. I don't have long here."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath. He didn't want this dream to end. He knew it was a dream. He knew that Sirius was dead. But he didn't want to believe it. He wanted to pretend that this dream was real. That Sirius was fine and able to hug him. To be here for him, especially now. Now that he knew he was either going to have to kill the most powerful dark lord of this age, or be killed by him. "This is my dream isn't it?" he asked plaintively, desperately trying to control his own dream.

"No Harry, this isn't really a dream. Not like other dreams. This is the only way I could come to you to say goodbye I have to tell you,"

"NO!" the word wasn't spoken angrily, just forcefully. "This is a dream."

"Listen Harry," Sirius replied earnestly, "I really don't have much time before I have to go on. I have to let you know, you need to hear this from Me!"

"If you're not a dream," Harry began suspiciously, "How do I know you are really Sirius?"

"You have to have a bit of faith Harry, but if you need proof I'll give it to you," Sirius answered, "I was the one that sent you your firebolt. Now will you listen to me?"

Harry nodded, his throat closed with emotion as he finally looked into the eyes of his godfather and saw the love lingering there.

"Harry, you have to believe that it wasn't your fault. I died the way I wanted to die, in battle. I didn't set out to die, and I didn't necessarily want to die so soon, but I certainly didn't want to stay locked up in my parents house and molder away. I've made my choice Harry, and it is to go on. I hope you understand. I love you as much as if you were my own child. But I miss my friends and I need to go on." Sirius was beginning to fade, "Always remember Harry, it wasn't' your fault!"

"SIRIUS!" Harry shouted, "Don't leave me again Sirius!"

"Time for me to move on Harry, I had to beg for this much time to say goodbye. You are stronger now, you've grown. I'm proud of you and I love you!"

He was gone. Tears streaked down Harry's face, but this time they brought the relief he needed. He believed what Sirius had said. It wasn't his fault, at least not completely.

Oblivion reached up and wrapped Harry in its merciful arms.

Although Harry had slept deeply, he woke quickly and was immediately alert. A glance at the window told him it was just before dawn. He thought briefly of watching the sunrise and decided to shower before his Aunt and Uncle woke.

Feeling somewhat refreshed from the hot water, Harry dressed and made his way downstairs. After the way Mad Eye had warned his relatives about his happiness, Harry decided he would try to start off on the right foot by cooking breakfast. Several minutes later with sausages frying, and the coffee perking, he was able to whip the eggs for a quick scramble when the rest of the family came down to eat. He started toasting bread and poured himself a glass of orange juice to sip while he was cooking. Just as the percolator gave it's last burble the kitchen door swung wide and Aunt Petunia charged through the door looking about with an amazed expression etched on her boney face. "Wh-what's all this?" she demanded.

"I thought it would be nice if I made breakfast for everyone, instead of just myself," Harry answered, trying a small smile for good measure he added, "Good Morning." Taking a coffee cup from the cabinet he poured a cup and held it out to her, "It just finished brewing."

Aunt Petunia looked at him quizzically for a moment before taking the cup from him with weak fingers. She looked around the kitchen as though she were looking for something to criticize, but Harry had been cleaning up behind himself. He gave the sausage another turn, trying not to smile at his aunts discomfiture he asked, "Shall I fix the eggs now, or should I wait for Uncle Vernon?"

She turned her head toward the stairs and they both could hear his heavy lumbering step, a faint conspiratorial smile tinged her expression as she lowered herself in a seat at the table, before she barked, "Well boy, get the eggs on!"

By the time his uncle had retrieved the paper and hurried into the kitchen, there was no trace of a smile on either Petunia's or Harry's face. He quickly poured his uncle a cup of coffee before he could ask and went back to cooking breakfast. Within moments he placed a platter filled with sausages, eggs, and toast in the middle of the table.

Vernon looked down his nose at the meal before him and growled, "Thought with that little reception yesterday, you'd think you were above doing your share around here boy!"

Harry took a deep breath to steady his temper. There was no reason to start off on the wrong foot on the first morning of vacation. "I don't mind helping, Uncle Vernon," he replied evenly. "My friends just don't want me to be treated like a prisoner this summer."

A red flush began creeping up Vernon's jowly cheeks, "We've taken you in, out of the goodness of our hearts. We've put up with your unnaturalness, your weird ways, and your weirder friends coming to pick you up through the fireplace! A little gratitude from YOU is in order, I do believe!"

"Uncle Vernon," Harry began calmly, barely keeping his temper in check, "I do appreciate the fact that you've have taken me in. I do wish that I could share more of my life with you, but you wouldn't appreciate or understand what I have to tell you. I hope that this summer might be a little different." Although he knew his uncle would never change, Harry nursed a faint hope that this summer didn't necessarily have to be as tortuous as usual.

Vernon's mouth opened and closed once or twice, not having any sarcastic or angry retort to make about his nephew being polite and cooperative. Petunia came to his rescue, "Vernon darling, have some breakfast before it gets cold." He picked up the platter and shoveled some food onto his plate wordlessly.

By the time that Dudley waddled into the kitchen, breakfast had been cleared away and Aunt Petunia had placed half a grapefruit on the table in front of his chair. "Aw mum, can't I have more than this to eat? I have to keep up with my training!"

"Duddy darling, you know the school nurse has sent home a new diet sheet this summer," she trilled sweetly at her son. "You'll notice that there is HALF a grapefruit on your plate instead of only a quarter!"

"But mum," he whined, "I can nearly smell sausages and eggs!"

Petunia cheeks flushed slightly before replying in a rush, "Don't be silly darling, now eat your breakfast like a good boy. I have to go and vacuum the living room."

Harry sat at his desk writing letters when Hedwig swooped in the window, landing softly beside her cage. Harry grinned at her asking, "Did you have a good night girl?" He laid down his quill to stroke her downy feathers. "Would you take these to Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione?" Hedwig blinked slowly and nibbled his fingers gently. She waddled over to her cage for a drink to wait for him to finish writing. He rolled up his letters, writing their names on each before tying them to Hedwig's leg. She clicked her beak before hopping to the window, she looked over her shoulder and hooted softly, in a reassuring manner and soared silently out the window.

Harry had retreated to his room after breakfast and decided to write to all three, telling them everything he could remember from his dream. He made a bet with himself what their responses would be, Dumbledore would tell him not to worry, but to keep him informed if he had any more dreams of Sirius coming to him in his dreams to impart reassurance and/or advise. Ron would worry, and probably talk it over with his dad before replying with a letter full of contradictions, 'Don't worry Harry, it was just a dream. But . . . you don't suppose it's some sort of trick from you-know-who do you?'" and Hermione, she would look the dream up in her books and try to interpret what it might have met, all the while telling him that he should probably write to Dumbledore and let him know all about it. He hoped he would be able to keep to himself that he already had so he could see her face when he told her that Dumbledore was one of the first people he wrote to.

Now it was nearing lunchtime, and Harry didn't want to spend his whole vacation in his room so he wandered downstairs. Dudley was out with his friends, probably terrorizing the neighborhood. Uncle Vernon was playing golf with his cronies; Harry had seen him load his clubs into the car not long after breakfast. Aunt Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea and staring out the window. Harry remembered the faint smile she had given him this morning and decided to test the waters, "Aunt Petunia?" She jumped and set her cup down before spilling tea all over herself.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"I was wondering if, if perhaps you might talk with me for a while?" he asked tentatively.

"Talk?" she asked sardonically, "Whatever would WE have to talk about?"

"Well," Harry drawled out the word, trying to figure out how to ask what he wanted without making her shriek at him. "We might talk about my mother."

She flinched slightly and started to rise out of her chair. Harry leaned forward, eyes pleading. Here was the one person that had known his mother all of her life, he wanted desperately to know more about her so he asked again, "Please, I really want to know what she was like."

Petunia sank slowly back into her seat and was quiet for a long moment before she began, "Your mother and I never got along very well. She was always very outgoing and intelligent. Top marks in grade school. She was always chosen for the best parts in the school productions. While I was, well, quite a bit more shy. I always had to study very very hard to get even average marks in school. I was never chosen to be 'on stage' during a school production," she laughed mirthlessly. "I remember the last one before she went to that school, they were doing Cinderella. Of course your mother was the Star of the Show! I was put in charge of costumes."

Harry was proud to hear that his mother has always done well, but seeing the sadness in Aunt Petunia's eyes at the moment, he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. "So that's why," he whispered softly.

Petunia looked up from her teacup and asked, "What's why?"

"That's why you called her 'your perfect sister' that night. The night Hagrid came for me on that island."

Petunia looked back into her teacup, "Yes, I suppose so." She was very quiet for a long moment before continuing, "You were never a very easy child to raise, you know."

"What do you mean? What could I have done when I was a baby?" he asked sharply, trying to contain his anger. Anger wouldn't get him the answers he was looking for.

"It was obvious from the time you were a baby that you were 'one of them' that you weren't normal."

"Oh. Well, most of the time I'm rather glad I'm not normal. But there are times when I do wish otherwise." Harry admitted.

"You could try to show that a bit more around here," she replied sharply. "Remember that we don't go in for that other sort of thing round here. And don't you think that we'll be chatting like old friends either." She looked flustered, like she had given away secrets she wasn't supposed to.

"I'll try to stay out of your way and to help out when I can," he replied through gritted teeth, once again reigning in his temper.

Petunia hesitated before replying, "See that you do."

Harry decided it was time to get some fresh air and headed toward the door. He wandered around Little Whinging, barely taking in the bright blue sky, the warm balmy air or the normal sounds of every day life in the Muggle world: the droning of lawn mowers, children laughing as they ran and played, the music in the air from radios playing in the homes he passed. He felt as though he was walking through a thick blanket of fog, almost as though there was a slight form of pressure surrounding him, separating him from the rest of the world. He shook his head at that whimsical thought and tried to focus on the things around him.

He ambled over to the park, sitting on the swing he sat on last summer, he remembered watching Dudley and his gang come into view, and trying to will them to look over at him and have a go. He snorted at the memory of wanting 'something' to happen, then he recalled thinking sarcastically to Sirius that he'd been good and hadn't done anything to draw attention to himself, only to run into dementors just a few minutes later.

Out of nowhere came a poke in the back of his head and a voice demanding, "What are you doing here?" Harry turned to see Dudley standing over him, quite alone, with his chubby features set in a scowl.

"Public park," Harry answered airily. "That means anyone is allowed to come here if they'd like."

Dudley showed no sign that he understood that Harry was being sarcastic, and grunted, "Watch yerself, or I just might have to teach you a lesson!"

Harry quirked an eyebrow for a moment and considered how he wanted to handle this one, "Hey Dinky, did you know I just took my O.W.L. tests? Did you know that once you pass them you are considered an adult? Know what that means, Dud? Can you figure it out for yourself, or do you need some help?" Harry couldn't keep the smirk on his face as Dudley slowly added up what he'd been told and came to a conclusion. Harry clapped his hands vigorously, "VERY good Dud, I think you've got it! That means, soon I won't have anything to stop me from cursing you into oblivion if I choose. Now, if you can wrap your brain around that, you just might figure out that it would probably be smart to stay out of my way!"

"I-I don't be-believe you!" Dudley stuttered. "Y-you're not al-allowed to do th-that outside of that freak school you go to!"

"Believe it Dud, believe it," Harry retorted smugly, "I don't want to have to waste my time with you. So your best bet is to stay out of my way."

Dudley's belligerent scowl faded, his complexion taking on a pasty hue. Faint comprehension of what could possibly happen if Harry was telling the truth dawned slowly. "Y-you can't! Y-you w-wouldn't have anyplace to go! F-father would t-toss you out on your can!" he babbled desperately.

Outwitting Dudley was second nature to Harry, but there was a tiny nagging voice chanting at him to stop baiting his cousin. He didn't want to, he wanted to see Dudley quivering with fear. However, the voice made sense. He did need a place to stay, even if it was only briefly, he hoped. "Possibly Dudley, you just might be right," he drawled, making a slight concession but he couldn't resist adding, "you just might be wrong, you know. Think it's worth taking the chance?"

Surprisingly Dudley seemed to be thinking it over. "Why do you keep coming here? Why? Life would be so much better if we never saw you again!" he burst out angrily.

Harry's temper flared, his eyes flashed angrily as he rose to his feet, "You think so? Well I agree with you! I wish I NEVER had to come back here and live with you lot! Looks like we're just stuck! So BACK OFF, before I make you wish you had!"

Fear mixed with panic washed Dudley's features. His eyes were glued to Harry's hand, which had instinctively grabbed his wand tucked into the waist of his pants. He began to back away slowly. In a lame attempt at defiance, he muttered, "You just stay away from me!" He turned tail and stumbled slightly, fists clenched with impotent rage as he stalked away.

Harry smiled grimly. So much for trying to keep the peace. He knew that Dudley would tell his parents and that he would be in for shrieks of rage, and having to listen to his uncle rant and rave about how grateful he should be just to have a roof over his head and food on his plate. A long-suffering sigh escaped him as he turned in the opposite direction of his cousin. His best hope would probably be to just stay out of the house as much as possible.

He scuffed along, kicking a stone as he went, pondering his lot in life. He hated summer with a passion. He hated being stuck in the Muggle world, even if it was for his own safety. He'd rather be in danger. At least he'd be with his own kind.

He found himself in front of a small shop filled with knick-knacks. The window display had what looked like a crystal ball sitting to one side, as he looked at the display more closely he realized this was a shop that sold what Muggles thought magic tricks were. On a whim he decided to go in and take a look around. The bell tinkled cheerfully as he opened the door and a voice floated from the back of the store, "Be right with you."

Harry found a shelf filled with 'magical gags'. The sign tacked to the wall above it said, 'Fool your friends!' 'Be the life of the Party!' Harry laughed softly at an obviously fake flower that had a long tube stuck inside it to squirt water at whoever would sniff it.

"Ah, looking for something to entertain your friends with?" the shopkeeper asked as he came through the curtain covering the back room. The man was short, slightly balding, and had a happy beaming smile.

"Just taking a look around," Harry answered politely.

"Bored with summer already, young man?" the little man asked kindly.

"Something like that," Harry admitted.

"My name is Smythe, Fenton Smythe," the man said jovially. He glanced toward the storage room and back to Harry. "What's your name young man?"

"Potter sir, Harry Potter," he answered holding out his hand.

The plump man took Harry's hand in his and asked brightly, "You wouldn't by any chance be looking for some work would you?"

Harry thought quickly, this would be a perfect excuse for getting out of the house and away from his relatives! Then he thought of his friends, who would hopefully be getting him out of there soon. "What kind of work do you need done?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, young Harry, as much as I'd like to offer you a full time job, unfortunately I only need someone to help me clear out the storeroom. I think it would take a strapping young man like you a week or two," Fenton answered some of the brightness leaving his smile.

"That sounds wonderful!" Harry exclaimed, "When can I start?"

Fenton's eyes lit up as he beamed at Harry, "How about tomorrow morning? Say 'round ten?"

Harry reached out and shook Fenton's hand vigorously and smiled, "I'll be here, sir!"

I would greatly appreciate it if everyone would drop me a line and let me know what they think! Reviews do fuel the fire of the imagination!