Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I may dream about owning the rights to Harry and company, but I don't. Rowling does. Please don't hurt me.

Author's Note: It has been a long time since I have posted, but it has been due to many factors (FFN being constantly down, my two jobs, starting fall semester and moving, just to name a few.) I hope that I haven't been forgotten during this absence. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter; I got a little ellipse happy, and I was having fun causing more trouble for Vernon. Hee hee. Stick with me; posting is going to be difficult with my workload, but you'll be pleasantly surprised when I do. Trust me J

The next two weeks were simply nerve racking for Harry. Granted, the food became edible once Aunt Petunia was back, but it is hard to enjoy a meal when one is constantly looking over his or her shoulder. Harry would jump whenever there was a knock at the door, and he would make sure the coast was clear before he took out the trash. The Dursleys began to notice Harry's odd behavior. Vernon would yell at him and tell him to stop being so strange. Aunt Petunia would hold her nose higher and give him such a disapproving glare that even Snape would be frightened. Dudley, however, thought it was great fun that Harry was so jumpy. He would sneak up behind Harry and try to frighten him. It worked the first time Dudley tried it, but after that, Harry would just turn around and tell him to sod off.

Harry hadn't received any more letters during this time. However, unlike before, he did not fall back into the sense of false security. "Constant vigilance" became Harry's life day in and day out. Harry was determined that if something was going to happen to him this time, he was going to see it coming.

On the other hand, there was the matter concerning the Daily Prophet article. Everyone is having doubts about my sanity, and Fudge is deciding what to do about me like I am some sort of pressing issue, thought Harry. How does one prove that they are sane and telling the truth? Harry couldn't completely understand why everyone was so hell-bent on denying the resurrection of Voldemort. Granted, all of the evidence was circumstantial and hearsay and many people didn't relish the idea living in constant fear again. But why would he, Harry Potter of all people, go around saying Voldemort was alive? All he wanted to do was have a peaceful, average life as a wizard. Going around saying Voldemort was alive was definitely contrary to that notion.

It was a week before school began, and thoughts such as these constantly ran through Harry's mind. He could hardly concentrate in his summer work; his Potions essay read like a first year's. Harry wasn't too concerned though; he had more pressing issues to worry about. Besides, no matter what kind of essay he turned in, Snape would give him a low mark anyway.

Another late night of figurative tail chasing. Another night of retracing footsteps and getting nowhere. It was infuriating and left Harry feeling hopeless. He stared up at the moon as though it held the answers. Even though it didn't have a clue to offer, something else in the sky caught Harry's eye. Despite it's small size, Harry knew exactly what it was: Pig! Ron must have written him! This was exactly what Harry needed. Someone who was sticking by him and didn't think he was mad. Or at least he hoped….

After finally subduing Pig, Harry began to read his best friend's letter.

Harry!

I don't know if you know, but a sizeable amount of the wizarding community thinks you're nutters. Rumors range from you just causing trouble for attention to you being the next dark lord! It is insane what they are saying about you (no pun intended). How are you going to get out of this one?

Well, I was mainly writing you to see if you want to go to Diagon Alley with us this Saturday. Hermione is going to meet us there. Mom said that if you didn't want to go, then she would get your supplies for you. But I think you should come. You need a break from the muggles. Besides I hear that there's a new broom that has just been released and they have it at Quality Quidditch. You have to come and check it out. Don't make Fred, George and me come and kidnap you! We'll be there to pick you up around 10 o'clock. Be ready!

Ron

Temporary freedom! The thought of being gone, even if it was just for a day, filled Harry from head to toe with relief and joy. He would get to see his friends and forget for a bit that there was an entity of evil that was bound and determined to see his demise. Harry immediately sat at his desk and wrote to Ron saying that he was game for the trip to Diagon Alley. When he finished, Harry looked around for Pig; apparently Hedwig didn't want the energetic owl in her cage. A sudden movement from within Harry's trunk revealed Pig's location. It seems that Harry had an extra bag of owl treats in there, and Pig thought a snack was in order.

"What a rude bugger! I would have given you some. Come here," Harry scolded. He tied the letter to the owl's leg and tossed him out the window. Once Pig disappeared into the night sky, Harry took a quick look at his calendar. All of the trouble that he was having made him lose track of what day it was. Apparently at that moment, it was Thursday night. I just have to make it through tomorrow. I can do that. No problem.

In an effort to not destroy his good mood, Harry put away his potions essay for the time being. He picked up Winning Quidditch Strategies and began to read. There were some interesting plays in it, many of which were extremely difficult and players would have to be crazy to execute. Nevertheless, it was Quidditch and Harry loved Quidditch. He didn't get too far in the book though; sleep overtook Harry in a matter of minutes.

*****

The tree was standing alone on the hill. Everything, including the tree, had the look of an old black and white movie. Everything, that is, except for Harry. He was the only thing in color. Harry's attention turned back to the tree. It was the only thing Harry could see for miles. Seeing as how there was nothing else to do, he walked towards the tree. It was tall and would have been taller had it not been slightly bent two-thirds of the way up. The tree had long, drooping branches thick with leaves. The combination of leaves and the black and white color scheme made the tree seem as though it had silver flowing down it. As Harry got closer, he could tell the tree was rather old. It had the look of a creature that had seen better days. However, he could sense something radiating from the tree. Was it power? No way; how could a tree, let alone any plant, possess such power? It was strong, yet it didn't look at all like it had any sort of strength whatsoever. Curious, thought Harry.

As Harry stood on the hill, pondering about the mysterious tree, he heard a noise. It was a strange buzzing noise and it was getting closer by the second. Harry looked around and saw…..

*****

Darkness.

No wait….. it was a book on his face. Harry reached up and took the book off his face. Normally sunlight would have been streaming into his room, but it was raining. Yes, it was a gloriously dreary Friday morning. As Harry sat up he thought to himself, Why was I dreaming about a tree?! Is that all my subconscious could come up with? He thought about whether there might had been a hidden meaning, but Harry couldn't see any.

He stretched and yawned as he got ready and went downstairs. He was feeling pretty good until he became aware of a problem: he had to ask Uncle Vernon if he could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow with Ron. He shrugged and proceeded to go into the kitchen. In the past few years, Harry had learned a thing or two about "convincing" Uncle Vernon. If he just used the right words when he told Vernon, then getting to Diagon Alley wouldn't be a problem. Harry sat down at the breakfast table and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Uncle Vernon, I was wondering….."

*****

It was about 7 p.m. Friday night, and Harry was laying on his bed nursing two new injuries: a broken arm and a concussion. It wasn't the Dursleys' fault, at least not directly. Harry had asked if he could got to Diagon Alley, and Vernon told him he could if he got an impossible amount of chores done. Apparently, the muggle uncle figured if he could at least make Harry miserable for a day, then a day away from Privet Drive would balance out. Harry figured that he could get the chores done and agreed to Vernon's terms. The trouble started when Harry had to clean out the gutters. He got up on the roof, and right when he got a rhythm going…..

Harry didn't know what had happened next. He had no recollection of what happened right before the fall or even hitting the ground. When he woke up though, he was in the hospital. The nurse was rather nice and helped fill in the holes. One of the neighbors had seen Harry fall as she walked by. She called an ambulance and told the Dursleys immediately. Needless, to say they were less than thrilled that Harry had inconvenienced their day. When they got to the hospital, Uncle Vernon let Harry know how he felt about the situation. Harry told him it wasn't his fault and didn't have a clue as to what had happened. This failed to calm Vernon down, so in the end, the doctor gave him a pill that did the trick. Even as Harry lay in his bed, Vernon was still enjoying the effects.

Even though Harry wasn't in the best shape, he was still bound and determined to go to Diagon Alley. All he had to do was stay up all night (thanks to the concussion), and get out of the house without anyone noticing. He didn't know what would happen if Uncle Vernon realized Harry still had every intention of leaving at 10 the following morning. The amount of trouble he had inadvertently caused would be enough for the Dursleys to keep him home. With any luck, Vernon's pill will keep him out enough for Harry to escape.

Harry sighed. For once he was jealous of Vernon; namely his unbothered "happy" sleep. He had to stay awake, but there wasn't a whole lot to do. Harry could work on some of his summer assignments, but would result in the loss of consciousness. He could play gobstones or chess, but with whom? Hedwig? Highly unlikely. Too bad he had finished reading Winning Quidditch Strategies. But wait. There was always…..

Hogwarts: A History. Harry picked it up and examined the cover. It was actually a nice looking book. Bound in a deep, rich red leather and the title in faded gold leaf lettering, he ran his fingers across the pebbly surface. The school seal was stamped on the front, but it was so worn Harry almost missed it. As he flipped through the yellowing pages aimlessly, a musty odor filled his nose. It was the enchanting smell of an old book that had spent most of its life on a shelf, unused.

Harry took the book and sat down on his bed. He opened it to the first chapter and began to read. In the early 11th century, four great wizards and witches came together for a common purpose: to build a school where magical knowledge could be standardized and passed down from generation to generation……"