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-o0o-

Vernon Dursley never pretended that he was an exceedingly smart man. He had cruised through Smeltings on his father's donation and his own bullying of smarter students. Likewise, he had bootlicked and bullied his way up the chain at Grunnings.

In short, Vernon Dursley didn't know a lot of things besides being the bully or being bullied. But he did know that not seeing a teenage boy come out of his room to eat or do chores for two whole days was not a good sign.

He had finally caved, and found himself outside of his freaky nephew's door. He found himself slightly frightened of what laid behind that door. Was it a corpse, or the freak up to his usual nonsense?

He rapped on the door smartly, figuring there was no use dilly-dallying in front of a door in his own home.

However, his knocking was met with silence. He knocked again, exerting slightly more force. Irritation bloomed in his large, flabby chest. Why wasn't the freak answering?

After 3 minutes of impatient waiting, Vernon finally blew his lid.

"BOY! You open this door right now, you hear?" He shouted. He heard Petunia shuffling around their room, seemingly pulling on a dressing gown. Dudley's constant snores even ceased, but Vernon was far too incensed to care.

"I'm coming in!" Vernon shouted, breaking out in a cold sweat. Despite the fact that the teenager inside was much smaller and skinnier than his hulking self, Vernon couldn't help but feel a little afraid. He never usually ventured into the freak's room, especially when the freak was gone. Who knew what traps and weird items he left behind whenever he went to that- that cracked up school of his.

But Vernon quickly put that out of his mind as he threw his shoulder against the door. The poor slab of wood shook, but held it's own against the whale's frightening weight. He slammed into it again, this time gaining momentum from a few steps back. This time, the entire house shuddered.

But the door did not yield.

A tap on his shoulder had him spinning around, bellowing angrily. Petunia held out a jingling set of keys. Her face was tired, but her eyes were sharp. He nodded thankfully at her, and turned back to the room, slowly sliding the key in.

With a soft click, the brave door finally slid open, creaking slightly. Vernon cautiously turned on the lights, barely peeking into the dimly-lit room.

The quietness only served to anger and frighten him, yet he drew himself up, unwilling to be frightened by a scrawny good-for-nothing layabout like his nephew. He stalked towards the bed, scowling and muttering angrily under his breath.

With a rather excited flourish, he ripped the covers off the bed, expecting a (deliberately) skinny, messy-haired, hand-me-down clad body.

Instead, he found himself with a wonderful view of a thin, rather lumpy mattress. He gasped, stumbling backward.

"Petunia," he rasped, "the boy's gone! The freak's left! There's even a note!"

-o0o-

Petunia was a complicated woman. She was obsessively clean, obsessively observant, and obsessively unable to forget.

She had known that her treatment of her own blood nephew was truly odious, and dreaded to think of what the neighbors would say when they knew the truth.

But in truth, it was the own boy's fault. He didn't look anything like his mother. Except for the eyes, her eyes.

Eyes that she had envied almost her entire life, wishing that she could trade her dull, beady brown eyes for those gems. She had known the moment she had looked at her nephew that she could never love him. She could never care for him the way she knew Lily would have cared for Dudley, never loved Harry the way Lily would love Dudley.

And that had repulsed her. Her own hate and jealousy and petty spite had disgusted her to no end. But her self-hate had not stopped her from locking the boy in a cupboard, from taking away his meals, for trying to punish him for being a part of her perfect sister.

So when she heard Vernon shrieking that the boy had left, she only felt relief. Relief that she could stop swimming in guilt, drowning in hatred for what he and his kind stood for, for what they had done to her family. She was relieved that he had left, for both of their sakes.

Well, that is, until she saw the note. What nerve he had, telling his guardians to rot in hell after all they had done for him! She echoed Vernon's outraged shouting, agreeing vehemently when he raged against the boy for being so insolent and self-centered.

Wherever he was, Petunia Dursley hoped that Harry Potter was run over by a bus.

-o0o-

Dedalus Diggle smiled and breathed in the fresh, muggle air at Privet Drive. He was here to guard the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Chosen Boy, Dedalus's own hero. He waved excitedly at Emmeline Vance, his partner for the night, and turned to inspect a muggle tricycle.

What odd contraptions these muggles use, Dedalus shook his head amusedly. He settled for discretely (or as discretely as Dedalus could hope to be) circling the house. He regularly hid behind the rosebushes, casting charms to ensure that he didn't get pricked by the fat thorns that protected the flowers.

Dedalus settled behind the rosebushes, knowing this would be a quiet night, just like the others.

Of course, Dedalus Diggle wasn't known for his intelligence.

An indignant bellow from the houes had jerked him awake, causing him to fall out of the rosebush and receive a mouthful of Petunia Dursley's special fertilizer (made from the manure of three cows, two of which weren't allowed into the continent of Europe). He quickly cast a scourgify on his mouth, gagging loudly at the soap bubbles invading his throat.

He marched right through the back door, feeling distinctly disgruntled and alarmed. A rhinoceros had made it's way into Harry Potter's bedroom! A rhinoceros was bellowing at the Magical world's Savior!

He turned and padded up the stairs quietly, motioning for Emmeline to follow behind him. She shadowed him silently, wand clenched in her hand. He threw the door to the first bedroom open, and found it empty. It seemed to be the Master bedroom. Diggle found himself wondering why the Chosen One wasn't given the Master Bedroom.

A trek to the next bedroom had revealed a loudly snoring human-whale mutant with a mop of blond hair. Diggle quickly shut the door, not wanting to hear more of the incessant pounding. That just left…

This time, Emmeline took charge. She quietly turned the doorknob and snuck in silently. Diggle followed behind her obediently, wondering what horrors would lay behind the door.

Of all the things he had expected, a half naked man-rhino and an ostrich-woman glaring angrily at a lumpy mattress and a tiny scrap of parchment was not what he was expecting.

-o0o-

That very night, a small teenager jerked awake from his sleep, covered in a fresh layer of cold sweat.

Harry barely had the energy to scarf down some food and fish a pair of pajamas from his now-normal-sized trunk, let alone unpack and settle in properly. He had spent the time before dinner talking to the house-elves, trying to get to know them better. Tippy and Hermes were full of interesting information about his paternal grandparents, his father and his friends, his mother, and even him as a baby.

For Harry, who never had the luxury of being told baby stories of himself, this was worth the house's worth in gold.

Harry had also insisted on adding a few rules. First, Tippy and Hermes would be required to call him Harry. However, the elves insisted on calling him Master in public, arguing that it was not proper behavior to call one's master so informally in front of other people.

He had also given himself the authority to dole out and choose the punishments, if they ever deserved any. He would pay them too, exactly two sickles every three months- he had originally offered 2 galleons a month, along with a week off, but the poor elves had been so distressed that he had changed his mind. Plus, Tippy and Hermes both liked silver over gold. Harry decided to assign them their duties later, considering he had been too tired to even think at the time. He had simply collapsed into the floating heaven that was his bed, closed his eyes, and began to dream.

He faintly heard a crack behind him, and had only looked around when Tippy squeaked reassuringly to her master. She disappeared and then reappeared again, this time holding a small little green-tinted bottle. She held it out hesitantly to Harry, careful not to come too close to Harry's shivering form.

"M- Harry, Tippy is giving Harry a dreamless sleep," she said softly. Harry reached for the bottle, but Tippy held it out of his reach.

"Tippy. The bottle, please." The little elf trembled, but stood her ground.

"Tippy would like to make a suggestion to Harry, if he please." Harry nodded tiredly, politely gesturing for her to go on. He knew how much courage it took for a house-elf to disobey a master's orders. The elf began rocking back and forth slightly, trying to speak.

"Tippy! I want you to tell me what you'd like to say, please." Harry commanded desperately. He was rather tired and eager to take the potion; it had been a rather tiring few days and he had finally gotten a chance to sleep uninterrupted. The poor elf sighed in relief, and immediately began to speak.

"Tippy would- would like Master Harry to please go see a healing wizard before he begins his training to defeat the Dark wizard. Tippy believes Master Harry would benefit greatly from this trip. Tippy- Tippy insists?" She finished timidly. Tippy looked terrified, but didn't seem to want to back down.

Harry leaned back against the pillows, thoughtful. His initial reaction had been to protest, but Tippy's suggestion didn't actually seem like that bad of an idea.

"Alright," he said slowly, "I'll go before I start my training. Thanks for the suggestion Tippy." The elf beamed, and quickly uncorked the bottle and handed the potion to Harry. He swallowed it hungrily, eager for a night of interrupted sleep.

Maybe the healer could even help him with his training.

-o0o-

Albus Dumbledore tiredly flicked his wand, effectively locking the door behind his last appointment for the day.

He liked Minerva, he did, but the woman would go on about the silliest things, like extra protection for the school or increased funding for the charms and potions club. What nonsense! Because of the new school year, Albus was bogged down with mountains of paperwork. However, being the skilfull politician he was, he had skilfully managed to pass off his work to his beloved Deputy Headmistress. She had initially been reluctant, but had finally caved when he appealed to her need for perfect organization.

He let himself chuckle, knowing this was a hard-earned victory. Sighing, he popped open a small, purple colored tin box. They were his favorite lemon drops, and he found himself visibly relaxing as his personal mind-sharpening drought (infused to the lemon drop) took effect. However, that wasn't enough this time. He turned back to the surface of his desk and picked one brightly colored candy off the tray, greedily sucking on the treat.

Dumbledore had three types of lemon drops: the 'personal' lemon drops (infused with a mind-sharpening drought), the 'general' lemon drops (infused with a calming drought; generally used on normal students who came to his office for a chat), and the 'special' lemon drops (infused with a complacency potion; used on the special visitors). He made a quick reminder to ask Severus to brew more calming droughts. He seemed to be running a little too low.

Satisfied, Albus sat back and began to retreat into his mind place. He began with his most pressing thoughts: a certain escaped convict and his extremely troublesome will.

Sirius had left Harry money, power, and yet another Lordship. The boy already had enough responsibility and power, and it was completely useless to give him even more.

No, for his own good, he wouldn't be told about the money until later. Maybe he could mention it to him around the time Harry was creating a will. A little suggestion about donating the 'tainted' money to a good cause in order to redeem the Black name would help the Order's cause greatly.

Now to Harry himself. According to Ron and Ginny's recent reports, the boy had been rather moody and unresponsive. Harry hadn't been writing much to either of them, and they didn't seem to be writing him either. He suspected that Harry's behavior would be rather unbecoming for a few months, but he would probably snap out of it as soon as he was back with the Order (aka his support system). In the meantime, Albus had guards posted around the Dursley household.

Albus also decided to begin the love potions on Harry now. He had finally decided to key the love potions to Ginny Weasley. The girl hadn't known about the plan yet, but he decided that the attention would be most welcomed.

As for Granger, he was still wondering what to do. The pesky girl, while being intelligent enough to help Harry with almost any situation, was a pain in his arse. He had only allowed their friendship because of her initial almost-religious respect for authority. However, Hermione Granger continually demonstrated her willingness to break the rules if they ever jeopardized Harry's health or well-being. Maybe a romantic interest would effectively distract her from watching Harry too closely… Well, Ron Weasley had always been an underachiever. Remarkably, he was able to exude such a contagious aura that others became lazier around him as well. Yes, he would do well to dull Ms. Granger's keen senses.

As for Harry himself, Dumbledore would once again arrange for Occlumency lessons. The lessons weakened Harry's mind considerably, eroding away his natural defenses. The widened link between Harry and Voldemort would then plague Harry with visions of Voldemort's plans, which in turn gave the Order vital information. Albus knew the visions were extremely painful, but he was sure even Harry would agree to it if he knew what was at stake.

He filed a reminder to review the wards at the Burrow. Grimmauld Place had been locked out to the Order after Sirius's death, and the Burrow was now the place they would bring Harry after a while. He just needed to keep Harry at the Dursleys' for a little while longer to give him time to adjust his attitude. Honestly. They were at war. He should have expected to have some grievous casualties. Harry was the Chosen One. He couldn't be expected to go into a depression every time someone close to him fell.

However, a small part of Dumbledore was relieved that Harry still felt grief, still felt remorse. He knew what lacking the ability to grieve or regret did to a person. Tom had taught him that.

However, before Dumbledore was able to retire for the night, a small caramel-colored owl flew in. He recognized it as Emmeline Vance's. He stifled yet another sigh when he felt the calming potion and mind-sharpening drought wear off.

This could not be good news. Emmeline Vance was one of the two guards set to watch over the Dursleys household tonight. They would only have disturbed him if the news had been important.

He sincerely hoped it meant Harry wasn't dead. It was probably too late to begin training Neville Longbottom anyway.

As he unfurled the letter, he reached for 4 more general lemon drops, knowing these would not be the last of those he would be taking tonight.

Apparently, Harry had escaped his home. Albus calmly walked over to a small table, picked up a spindly silver instrument, and hurled it out the window.

Why couldn't the boy cooperate? Couldn't he see that everything- everything Dumbledore had done was for his and the Wizarding World's own good?!

How? How had the boy escaped? Where had he even gone? With a sigh, Dumbledore sent out an alert for an emergency meeting in one or two days time. As he buried himself in the work, he wondered whether Harry had found out about his Inheritance. The very thought of the boy coming into his power made Albus break out in a cold sweat. He decided to check with Gringotts in the morning.

Right now, Albus had a date with his diricrawl-feathered pillow, and he had no intention of cutting it short for a curt goblin.

-o0o-

Shortspear was not having a good day. First, he had lost Gringotts a decent deal with an up-and-coming family. The family's patriarch had insulted the Goblin ruler, and he had immediately responded by throwing them out of Gringotts. He was met with backhanded approval by the Director, who warned him that he would be submitted for review. Additionally, 4 of his clients had either scheduled, rescheduled, or cancelled their financial meetings with him today, throwing his schedule out the window. Finally, he had been coerced into taking over his friend's shift for him, and was now working as a lowly consultant.

And when Albus Dumbledore swept in, requesting information about the Black and Potter houses, he nearly lost it.

"I don't believe you have the authority to know that, Mr. Dumbledore," Shortspear growled. He had reached his rope's end hours ago; Dumbledore was currently stomping on the thinnest layer of ice possible. The old man simply smiled, bright blue eyes sparkling.

"I happen to be the Magical Guardian of the heir to these two houses," he replied smoothly. Shortspear sighed. Of course. Yet another person he was unable to take his anger out on. Insulting this man might risk one of the wealthiest people in the bank: the Potters.

"Of course, Mr. Dumbledore. Shearclaw will lead the way to the Account managers. Good day."

-o0o-

Dumbledore easily kept up with the smaller goblin that was hurrying along to the Potter-Black account manager's office. He was still smarting from his curt treatment at the front desk. Surely the goblins knew that he alone had the power to begin a war between the wizards and goblins. This time, only one race would survive, and it wouldn't be the ones without wands-

No, Dumbledore forced himself to keep his inner turmoil away from his face, you must be tolerance of other magical and non-magical races. After all, you are the Leader of the Light. It is not proper to be so vengeful over such a simple slight.

By the time the awkward twosome had reached the Account Manager's office, Dumbledore had schooled his expression back into one of a kind, yet powerful member of the Wizarding Government.

"Ah, hello Director Gornuk!" He greeted cheerfully, seating himself without being asked. The imposing goblin nodded curtly.

"Mr. Dumbledore. Now, I have been informed that you wish to talk of your Magical charge's Inheritance?" Dumbledore nodded politely.

"Yes, and I'd like to once again request access to the Potter family vaults. After all, I am the boy's magical guardian, and I believe I reserve the right to take care of his belongings as well." Gornuk nodded, and then a slow, rather nasty smile spread across his face.

"Unfortunately, Dumbledore, you have been denied access to all Potter-Black Vaults by the Heir himself. The Heir of the Lordship of Potter and Black has also been magically emancipated, so you are not recognized as Harry Potter's magical guardian anymore. Thank you for your business." And with that, the goblin turned away. Albus felt a wave of anger wash over him, and didn't even attempt to suppress it.

"Beg your pardon," he began, "but when exactly did he claim Lordship and where exactly is he?" Gornuk didn't even look up from his parchment.

"Beg your pardon," he replied dismissively, "but privacy is one of our main values. Lord Potter-Black's location and activities are his business only, and seeing as you have no authority over him besides his Headmaster- well, for now- I see no reason to concede to your demand. Additionally," he warned, seeming to sense Albus's drawing his wand, "drawing a wand inside Gringotts is expressly forbidden in the Wizard-Goblin Treaty of 1734. Unless you wish to start another war between our two races, I highly recommend exiting our premises quickly and peacefully. Good day to you."

Albus's mouth fell open in angry disbelief. Never, in all his 150 years, had he been dismissed so casually. And for a goblin to do it! He stewed for a few seconds more, and then finally stood up angrily.

"I believe you will severely regret your actions in the future, Goblin Gornuk." Albus cautioned, his voice trembling with anger. He gathered his robes and swirled out of the room.

He had better things to do than be rejected by a lesser race.

Right now, he had a letter to write.

-o0o-

Albus finished penning his letter, and signed it with a flourish that would have turned Gilderoy Lockhart green with envy. He read over it once more, just to make sure it conveyed the proper message.

Harry,

I'm afraid to say that I'm very disappointed by your actions. I had rather hoped you would be mature enough to be able to handle living with your relatives for a few weeks. I have already explained to you why you must stay there. Your actions have been very selfish; you have placed your only family at risk. I must insist that you return to Privet Drive Harry, if only for a few more weeks. It is, after all, for your and your relatives' safety.

However, I am not an unfair man. If you do as I ask, I will arrange for your stay at the Burrow for most of your summer. Rest assured, you will be able to enjoy the rest of your summer in peace.

Additionally, I believe it's time I begin training you for your fight against Lord Voldemort. I will begin giving you private lessons when you return for your fall term.

I implore you to do as I say. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of your remaining family.

Hope you are well,

-AD

Albus nodded, satisfied. He had included a fine incentive for the boy, a carefree summer with his best friend and supposed training sessions during school. The letter was perfect. He tapped the parchment with his wand, murmuring a few words. The tracking charm he had just applied was very powerful; it would easily pass through anything short of a Fidelius. He called for Fawkes to deliver it, but the damn phoenix had disappeared yet again. He sighed and summoned an owl from the Owlery.

Guess I will just have to have my mail delivered like all the other students, Albus decided, shaking his head in mild disgust at the plain screech owl sitting in front of him patiently. He flicked his wand quickly, and the letter was skilfully attached to the owl's leg. After applying a timed notice-me-not, destined to wear off in a few days (the estimated time for delivery), Albus sent the creature on it's way.

Almost immediately afterwards, he grabbed a bottle of Ogden's finest and headed to his private quarters.

Diricrawl feathers, here I come.

-o0o-

Chapter 7, what a monster. I know it focused heavily on Dumbledore, but his POV is currently very important to the story. I hope you enjoyed the different character POV; it certainly was interesting to write so many different people. Thanks for reading!

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