Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I still don't own this. And, believe me, I do check.

Harry

I was sitting on the Dursley's doorstep, trunk beside me, Hedwig sleeping in her cage, when Dudley cam home, gang in tow.

"Your stupid friends not picked you up you up yet?" he jeered. "Can't say I blame them for wanting to spend less time with you."

"Dudley," I replied, in my most compassionate voice, "my friends are the ones with IQs over, what, 70? Your friends are the stupid ones."

A couple years ago, that would have been a really dumb thing to say. Hell, a couple years ago, breathing would be dumb enough to get me beaten up. I think the Dementor thing really shook poor Duddy-kins up, though, because all he did was sneer at me and then take his friends inside, no doubt to all kill each other on his new computer game.

Next year, I'm going to take my chances without blood protection and stay as far away from the Dursleys as possible.

Or at least, I'll stay in London, which is far enough, really. Next year, I'm going into Auror training, and will never say so much as hello to the Dursleys ever again. I haven't as yet confirmed this plan with Dumbledore, but he can't exactly object. I mean, how can living with the Dursleys possibly protect me from Voldemort more than living with lots of Aurors? Well, trainee-Aurors, really. If it doesn't protect me from Voldemort, it will at least stop me from killing myself out of boredom, which has to be a good thing.

Not that I would really commit suicide. My list of people who want to kill me is long enough without adding myself to it. Last year, I got really depressed about Sirius' death, but I learned that you have to look on the good side of things, or you end up just grinding to a halt and drowning in your own self-pity or self-loathing.

Which is not a good thing.

So this year, seventh year, final year, I'm going to be a happy and fulfilled individual, who industriously works towards good grades, even in Potions (as long as Voldemort stops trying to kill me for long enough to allow me to do so). I'm even going to strive for inter-house unity (which is the politically correct way of asking everyone else to put up with the Slytherins). That is, as long as they stop acting quite so much like, well, Slytherins.

I reckon I should move on from Cho as well – she's just too complicated. I understand the words she says, but I need Hermione to tell me what she actually means. And Cho doesn't like Hermione, for some reason. I don't understand girls. Except Hermione and Ginny, but they aren't proper girls – they just happen to be female.

Speaking of whom, I think that's the Weasley's new car approaching. I stood up, smiling, half glad to see them, half glad to finally stop sitting on the doorstep, which isn't the most comfortable place in the world. The car pulled up outside.

"Harry!" It was Hermione, who'd managed to fling her arms around me practically before I even saw her open the car door. She let me go, but started talking before I could get a word in edgeways.

"Harry, how are you? How was your summer?" I don't know if she expected to answer me or not, but she kept on talking, so I don't think so. And, damn, can she talk fast.

"Our summer, oh, it was so frustrating. You know how Fred and George joined the order last year? Well, all this summer, they've just been walking around with these really superior smiles on their faces and they won't tell us what's going on and it's just so…"

"Hermione," Ron said, saving me. He's probably the only one brave enough to interrupt her. Or stupid enough. "Give the guy some space." He walked round the car to me, eyebrows raised.

"The worst part of this summer was having to listen to her stress 24 hours a day!" he said, making me laugh. He laughed as well. Hermione didn't.

"You shouldn't tease me, Ron. There's a lot to worry about…"

"What, like whether you'll be Head Girl?" he retorted, before turning to me. "She actually thinks there's a chance someone else will get it, because of all the other clever, responsible, perfect Head Girl material people in our year." He rolled his eyes.

I looked at Hermione – "Is he serious? You're actually worried you might not get to be Head Girl?"

"I was worried about you as well, Harry. And if I'm not over confident about securing that position, then it's a good thing," she said, sniffily.

I couldn't help cracking up. "Hermione," I said, as soon as I could breathe properly again, "Dumbledore probably had you down as Head Girl before you even put the Sorting Hat on your head."

"Don't be silly, Harry," she said, but there was a hint of pride in her voice, as if her 11-year-old self had wanted nothing more than for the headmaster to come up to her and tell her that she'd make a great Head Girl one day. Which, as this is Hermione, it probably hadn't.

"Are you kids going to help Harry with his bags or not?" Mr Weasley asked, getting out of the driver's seat.

"Just going, dad," Ron said. So we heaved my bags into the back of the car.

"Harry, for someone who's not got much stuff, your bag weighs a tonne," Ron complained. I had packed everything I owned, so as to save myself an unnecessary trip back to the Dursleys at the end of the year before I left for good.

Mr Weasley slammed the boot door shut as soon as we got my bags in. He patted the car fondly. "Marvellous invention, really," he said, before getting back in. "Aren't you going to say goodbye, Harry?" he asked, seeing me already comfortably seated in the back. Might as well, really.

"BYE!" I yelled out the window, as we drove away, watching the house disappear as we turned the corner. Hopefully, I'll never have to see 4 Privet Drive again.

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Ok, so what do you think? Crap, crap, or really crap? Sorry in advance (or possibly already) if there are any really hated clichés, but I feel I deserve to be self-indulgent after restraining from putting any in my stories for English.

Oh yeah, for anyone who hasn't read a multiple narration story before, the title chapter is the name of the narrator of that chapter. I'm probably the only one dumb enough for it to take about 20 chapters of this multiple narration book I read to figure that out, but just in case, that's how it works.