A/N: I'm going to start a new story. Don't worry, I already have a couple chapters from this one typed up so updates won't be as long. I hope to be updating my other story (the one on my other account, TeeBee) shortly, either today or tomorrow, as soon as my beta gets back to me.

This one ... I don't think people are going to like it. But so far I don't think the idea's seriously been explored. I've read a couple fics with this storyline, but they're mostly all one-shots, really short, and .... bad. (No offense meant to anyone who writes fics where "it's all a dream", give me the name of yours and I'll be happy to read it!)

Disclaimer: Nothing in Harry Potter's world belongs to me.

Chapter 1 – Conversations with an Aunt

Harry Potter of number four, Privet Drive, tripped and tumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired. Seven o'clock was an ungodly hour to wake up, especially in the summer. Unfortunately, he had been awakened by his uncle's fuming and he hadn't been able to get back to sleep. Apparently the car wouldn't start.

"Up early, are we?" his aunt snapped from where she sat supping a mug of hot tea at the kitchen table.

If only I was allowed to use my wand, Harry thought. I'd send a silencio her way and see how she likes it.

"What did you just say to me?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"Nothing," Harry replied truthfully. "I didn't say anything."

"Liar," his aunt said, setting the mug down with a thud. You said you'd send a silenco my way. Where'd you learn that appalling language, at St. Brutus'?"

Harry barely had time to wonder how she could read his thoughts before questioning his aunt's sanity. She's still insisting that I go to that "Secure Center"?

"I don't know what there is to be pretending about – you've been going to St. Brutus' for the past six years."

How is she doing that?

"Doing what?"

Deciding to forget about the mind-reading thing for a moment, Harry turned to the more pressing issue of his aunt.

"You know where I go to school – at Hog – at my school."

"I would assume that, yes, you go to school at your school," his aunt replied with a smirk. "And that would be St. Brutus'."

"Hogwarts," Harry corrected her, for once not caring what her response to hearing the name of his school would be.

"Hogwarts is hogwash! What an idiotic name!"

Dull laughter sounded from behind Harry. He swung around to see his porky cousin, Dudley, pointing at him and laughing.

"Idiot!" he snorted. "He's been moaning about Hogwarts in his sleep for years, Mum."

Aunt Petunia looked worried. "Why didn't you tell me about this, Diddydums?"

"Why would I? He's just a mental case."

"I am not!" Harry interjected. "Who got nine O.W.L.s, huh?"

"Where do you have room for nine owls?" Dudley leered at him. "You sleep in a cupboard …"

Harry's blood ran cold. "Do not. I moved out of there before I started at Hogwarts!"

"Back to this nonsense, are we?" Aunt Petunia muttered. She bit her lip and seemed to be deep in thought.

What's wrong with them? Harry thought frantically. Why can't they remember any of it?

"Because it never happened," Dudley laughed. "You're making stuff up."

"No-"

"Stop it, both of you," Aunt Petunia shrieked. "We'll take care of this when your father gets home. Com on, you." She stood up and pulled the almost-seventeen-year-old from the kitchen and into the front hall with absurd ease.

"Just stay in there and be a good boy today," she told Harry, as though she were talking to an especially dull five-year-old. "No more walking around the house. Like last night, you fell asleep on the floor in Dudley's second bedroom."

Harry gaped in horror as he was shut once more into the cramped space that he had occupied for most of his childhood. She wasn't … wasn't serious, was she?

Serious …

Sirius …

If Sirius was here, he'd murder you, he thought savagely. But Sirius wasn't here. Sirius had died last year, all because of him.

Faces flashed before his eyes … Alastor Moody, the best Auror in a hundred years, lying motionless with a steady stream of blood trickling down from his temple … Fudge, recovered from the rubble of the Ministry of Magic a moment too last … they hadn't found Arthur Weasley's body yet, but somehow his picture had vanished from Mrs. Weasley's grandfather clock … they had all died for him.

Him.

They had all given up their lives so he could sit in a cupboard like an animal?

A great fury rose within Harry, a fury at his helplessness. If he'd have been able to use his wand, he would never have been shut up in here.

"LET ME OUT!" he screamed, pounding on the door. He could hear the ancient hinges rattling. "I MEAN IT! IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUT THIS INSTANT I AM GOING TO SIC FLUFFY ON YOU!"

Aunt Petunia shrieked on the other side of the cupboard door. "Dudley!" she cried. "Run up the street to Mrs. Figg's for a few hours. I'm taking him back to St. Brutus'!"