If one were to look at Number Four Privet Drive during the day. It would seem perfectly ordinary, which was just how its inhabitants liked it. A perfectly manicured lawn. A husband who left early and arrived late. A son who spent more time watching television, than playing outside. Perfectly, boringly, normal. But, if the hour was late, and a passerby were to look into the window at the far side of the house, they might see something very strange indeed.

They might pause, and wonder what a snowy-white owl was doing, flying in and out of the window. They might wonder why there were holes in the brickwork, where there had once been bars. They might even wonder, why a skinny, bespectacled boy, was spending his nights working his way through large textbooks. And they would certainly wonder what he was doing writing on ancient looking parchment, with a quill and ink well.

But Harry Potter knew. He knew why owls kept using his window late at night. He knew why those bars had once been there, just as he knew why he had to spend his nights, staying up exceptionally late, to write notes into the margins of his textbooks.

Harry Potter, was a wizard.

In spite of Professor Jackson's warning to the Dursley's, Harry hadn't dared to test the limits of what his Uncle was willing to chance. While Harry's uncle had not resorted to locking Harry's school equipment away for the summer as he had done the year before, he had made it explicitly clear that Harry was to keep his "freaksihness" away from the waking world. Not wishing to test the man too much, especially since Harry's relatives had resorted to pretending as though Harry didn't exist, Harry decided to spend his evenings doing his summer assignments under the covers of his bed.

Still, all things considered, his summer had been going exceptionally better than the previous. His aunt and uncle had left him alone, even Dudley had been keeping his distance, scared of reprisal from Professor Jackson. He had taken - to Harry's immense amusement - to running away from Harry whenever he saw him, his hands covering his enormous behind.

Harry had free rein to wander the neighborhood during the day. His aunt and uncle had refrained from forcing upon him the usual list of humiliating chores, that he'd been forced to endure for so many years. It wasn't as though Harry were afraid from working hard, but a person could only stain their hand-me-downs in boiling dye so many times, before they grew sick of it. It had been a rather boring summer, if Harry were honest, but he didn't mind at all. The most exciting thing to happen thus far, had been the escape of some criminal by the name of Sirius Black. But as he was seemingly the problem of the muggle authorities, Harry had paid him no mind.

Furthering Harry's enjoyment of his summer holidays, Harry had received plenty of owl post from his friends. Ron was spending the summer in Egypt. Ron's father had won a prize at his work, the Ministry of Magic, and had used the prize money to send his family on a trip to Egypt to visit the eldest Weasley son, Bill. Ron had written to Harry and told him all about it, even sending Harry a sneak-o-scope for his birthday.

Harry's other friend Hermione, had written to him as well. She too, was holidaying abroad. She was with her parents in France. She had written in excitement, about how she was using all she had learned on her travels, to write Professor Jackson's summer assignment on witch hunts in the 17th century.

He'd even been receiving mail from Professor Jackson, though he resorted to using the regular muggle post, rather than owl. He'd written in one of his letters,

"Owls don't like me much. Don't ask, it's a long story,"

Professor Jackson had taken to writing Harry with some regularity, inquiring on his treatment with his relatives, and making sure that Harry was being treated properly. The professor, apparently, had been spending his holiday in Moscow. In the last letter he'd received, Professor Jackson had included a photo of himself in front of the Kremlin, arm-in-arm with his four friends. All five were smiling up at him, all except Anna Agopov, who simply spent her time switching between smirking up at him, and Professor Jackson. The photo had also come with a strange message that Harry hadn't understood.

"Don't worry about your relatives for too much longer. Got something in the works that I think you'll enjoy. See you soon.

-Professor P. Jackson

Harry had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean. Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel excited, or terrified. Given the way his professor had threatened them, Harry half thought Professor Jackson would show up on his doorstep, dressed like one of those gangsters from the American mobster movies Dudley liked so much, in order to "take care" of his relatives. But he knew better. As scary as he knew Professor Jackson could be, the man was relatively harmless. Harry hadn't thought much of the letter, and Professor Jackson hadn't sent anything in the weeks since the first letter, so he had cast it from his mind.

His summer, however, took an unexpected turn for the worse, shortly after his thirteenth birthday. Uncle Vernon pulled him aside after dinner one night, and in a shaking voice, had informed Harry that his "Aunt" Marge, would be spending a week with them. Marge was not technically his aunt, being Vernon's sister and all, but he'd been forced to refer to her as such all his life. Like her brother, Aunt Marge had the temperament of a scorpion. She'd even once allowed one of her prized bulldogs to chase Harry up a tree, where it kept him all day, simply because he'd accidentally stepped on its tail. Aunt Marge took a particular pleasure in reminding Harry that he was a good-for-nothing layabout, who was taking advantage of his "good, honest, hardworking relatives."

Harry and his uncle struck something of an accord. Harry would mind himself, and be on his best behavior, and in exchange Uncle Vernon would sign Harry's Hogsmeade form. Hogsmeade was the village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, and students who were third-years and up, would have the option of visiting the village on select weekends with the permission of their parent or guardian. Harry had been dreading the prospect of asking his relatives to sign the permission form, so he had been all too happy when the opportunity had been presented. Uncle Vernon, who loved having something to hold over Harry, was only too delighted to dangle the prospect of not signing the form over him.

The week had gone, in Harry's opinion, about as well as it could have. Aunt Marge had barely stepped over threshold before she had taken a run at him. Harry did his best to keep his temper, and managed to keep a fairly decent head for the majority of her visit, by repeating passages from his textbooks in his head. In spite of Aunt Marge's best efforts to get a rise out of him, Harry had not risen to the bait. After the longest week of his life, he'd made it to the last night of Marge's visit. Aunt Petunia had cooked an elegant feast, and Uncle Vernon had broken out his nicest bottle of brandy, which Aunt Marge had finished half of on her own.

Harry was clearing the table in preparation for the desert when Aunt Marge had rounded on him, no doubt preparing to tear into him once more. But before she could open her mouth, there was a loud rap at the front door. All heads turned to the door in confusion,

"Who the devil is calling at this time of night?" Vernon growled,

"You, boy." Aunt Marge said, snapping her fingers and pointing in the direction of the door, and after a meaningful look from Uncle Vernon, Harry turned and made his way to the door, rolling his eyes as he did so. Pulling open the front door, he almost choked on his own spit. There, standing at the threshold of the door, was Professor Jackson. He was dressed casually, a pale cream henley shirt with the sleeves rolled up under a stylish navy-blue jacket, and a pair of olive colored jeans and faded converse. His skin was more tanned than usual, and he was smiling down at Harry.

"Evening Harry, gods above look at you, it's only been a month. You been taking growth hormones or something?" He said brightly, scanning Harry up and down. Harry had grown several inches in the last month, and he had finally started to fill in Dudley's old clothes, at least in the respect that they no longer dragged on the floor. Harry though, could only just goggle at his professor,

"Professor what you doing here? And…Ms. Chambers?" Harry said, and only then noticing Camila Chambers next to his professor. She was looking like a muggle, like Professor Jackson, dressed in a smart looking pantsuit, and her hair pulled up into a tight bun.

"Hey there Harry," Camila said warmly, "Good to see you again. How've you been?"

But before Harry could say anything more, Uncle Vernon's loud voice rang out from the dining room, "Boy! Who's at the ruddy door?"

Professor Jackson's face morphed from the happy smile, into a cold sneer, as his gaze shifted to where Uncle Vernon's came from. "Mind if we come in, Harry?" he asked, then without waiting for an answer, he stepped over the threshold, and pushed past Harry.

Harry turned a confused expression on Camila, who just rolled her eyes and watched as Professor Jackson stalked into the house, giving Harry a happy smile, she followed Professor Jackson into the house, Harry trailing just behind.

The three made their way into the house, and when they came in sight of the kitchen table, Uncle Vernon stiffened. At the sight of Professor Jackson, the color drained from his face, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to flee. Aunt Petunia jumped so badly, that she spilled her coffee all over her clean table runner, and Dudley, who had been in the process of shoving half a chicken down his throat choked, and had to spit the half-eaten poultry back onto a plate.

"Who are you supposed to be, and you, boy, why are you letting strange men and…" She turned a disgusted look at Camila, "Harlots" She spat, "Into my brother's home." Professor Jackson's visage turned so ugly that Harry was certain he might seriously hurt Aunt Marge. But Camila, who was glaring at Marge, placed a calming hand on his arm, and squeezed it gently,

Harry's own hand shook with barely suppressed rage, and wanted nothing more than to reach into his pocket, pull out his wand and curse Aunt Marge until she didn't know a bulldog from a traffic circle.

Uncle Vernon, likely desperate to save face in front of his sister, stood up shakily from his place at the table, and pointed a quivering, sausage-like finger at Professor Jackson.

"W-what," He asked, his voice quivering slightly and then tried again, "W-what are y-you doing in m-my home?"

"Hello again Vernon," Professor Jackson said icily, and Aunt Marge scoffed,

"American, of course," She slurred, her words almost incomprehensible because of the amount of brandy she'd been consuming, "No sense of decorum the lot of you. Be better off if you sank back into the sea," She hiccupped,

Professor Jackson ignored them, and turned to Harry, and pointed at Aunt Marge, "Does she know about," Then he waggled his finger between the pair of them oddly.

Harry shook his head, "No sir, she doesn't,"

"Oh, so you'll speak to him with respect but not your honest, hard-working-" Aunt Marge said, looking like she was rearing up for another for another go at Harry, but Professor Jackson just turned to her, and snapped his fingers. From the tips of his fingers exploded a fine mist of what Harry thought was water vapor.

"Sleep," He commanded as he snapped his finger. Then like she'd been hit over the head with a brick, Aunt Marge collapsed on the table, snoring heavily. The contents of the table shifted and one of the plates fell to the floor and smashed into pieces. Camila, who had drawn her wand, deftly repaired the broken bit of china.

"What did you just do to my sister!" Uncle Vernon roared, waddling angrily to right in front of Professor Jackson, and shoved a finger into his chest, "You come into my house, interrupt my dinner, and then you have the audacity to use your freakishness on Marge!" Uncle Vernon's face was turning purple, and the vein in his forehead looked as though it were throbbing painfully.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia hissed, looking at Professor Jackson in abject terror, but Uncle Vernon didn't listen. And raised a fist threatening,

"If you aren't out of my house in the next six seconds," He snarled, but Professor Jackson had apparently had enough, in a flash, Professor Jackson's hand shot out and wrapped around Uncle Vernon's meaty paw. With what looked like very little effort, Professor Jackson squeezed, and Harry heard the sound of bones popping, as Uncle Vernon yelped in pain, his other hand coming up to wrap itself around his wrist.

"Sit. Down." Professor Jackson snarled, and released the hand, Uncle Vernon moved so fast Harry could have sworn he'd teleported. "Stay here, and don't move a muscle. She" he jerked his head over at Aunt Marge's sleeping form, still snoring loudly, "Will wake up in an hour, thinking she'd had too much brandy, and won't remember me at all."

He then turned to Harry, and his expression softened considerably, "Come on then Harry, let's go pack up your things." He turned, and without a second look at the Dursley's, strode out of the room, an amused looking Camila hot on his heels.

After sending one more look to the petrified Dursley's, Harry took off after them.

"What are you doing here professor?" He asked, as they ascended the stairs.

"I'm getting you out of here, of course," Professor Jackson said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Harry was floored. Not in his wildest dreams did he think someone would be there to rescue him from the Dursley's after only a few weeks.

"And you? Ms. Chambers? Not that it's not nice to see you but-"

"It's Camila Harry," She said with a laugh, "Percy's your professor, not me. And I'm here on business. Percy told me he was coming to pick you up and asked me if I wanted to come along."

"Oh," Harry said flushing slightly when she gave him a charming smile, "Well, thanks," He said, rather lamely. In an effort not to look any sillier in front of Camila and Professor Jackson he took off towards his bedroom. He reached the door, and hesitated. He hadn't been expecting to see anyone, let alone for them to see his bedroom. He was overcome with a sense of mortification as he thought about Camila seeing the state of his room.

"Harry, Camila and I shared a house with three other women for a year, I promise you, she's seen worse," Professor Jackson laughed and pushed into the room, "Oh yeah, this is much better. Rest of the house is too clean, it feels fake." Harry's room wasn't exactly a disaster, but it wasn't clean either. There were clothes thrown haphazardly around the room, and Harry's school supplies were strewn about all over the floor. While he only did his schoolwork at night, Harry hadn't bothered trying to hide his supplies.

"Well," Professor Jackson said with a laugh, "At least I know you've been doing your homework," He said with a cheeky smile, and Harry felt himself flush again, but smiled. "Camila?" Professor Jackson asked, "You mind? You know that I'm-"

"A brute who's only good for breaking things instead of fixing them?" She asked, fixing Professor Jackson with a happy smirk, "Yes, yes you are," Professor Jackson, ever the adult, stuck his tongue out at her, "But don't worry, we love you all the same. Imperfections and all," Camila said, teasingly, giving his cheek a small pat, before pulling her wand back out, and giving it a small wave. All at once, Harry's belongings began zooming around the room, jumping in and out of the closet, and flying into Harry's trunk, which had dragged itself out from under Harry's bed. Within seconds, all of Harry's belongings were securely in his trunk, which snapped shut, and locked.

"Sorry if knowing how to clean a room never came up in combat training," Professor Jackson said with an eye-roll, then said, "Remind me to send a letter to Amelia Bones' office, no doubt they might mistake this for Harry."

"I'm seeing her later today," Camila said, "I'll just tell her,"

"Thanks," Professor Jackson said, before leaning down and hefting Harry's trunk onto his shoulder, before eyeing Hedwig in her cage warily. She was glaring at him, snapping her beak indignantly,

"Probably be best if you grabbed her Harry," Professor Jackson said, glaring back at the snowy owl. Harry, who had already been in the process of packing up Hedwig's treats, pulled Hedwig's cage free from its stand, which Camila shrunk with a wave of her wand.

"Alright, now let's get you out of here Harry," Professor Jackson said, making his way towards the door. The three made their way downstairs, and Professor Jackson threw open the door and hauled Harry's trunk outside, without a second glance at the Dursley's, Camila following on his heels.

Harry paused on the threshold and cast a look back at his relatives, who had followed Professor Jackson's orders to the letter, and were so still, it looked to Harry almost as though they weren't breathing. "See you next summer," Harry called out cheerfully with a wave, before he walked out the house, closing the door behind him.

He caught up to his professor and Camila as they waited on the curb,

"Where are we going, sir?" Harry asked, excitement burning in his breast.

"Diagon Alley," Professor Jackson said simply, "Normally, I'd apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, but…well…it's an unpleasant experience your first time," He then winked at Harry, "Besides, a little birdie told me you're not exactly the most coordinated when it comes to wizarding travel,"

Harry felt himself got pink around the ears, and his flush only got worse when Camila giggled. Why did Professor Jackson have to embarrass him like that in front of her like that!? Thankfully, he was saved from further embarrassment when Professor Jackson cast a strange look at Hedwig,

"Might want to let her out Harry. I wouldn't worry though," He said, seeing Harry's worried look, "She's a magical owl, and a damn smart one at that. She'll know where to go,"

Confused, but trusting his professor, Harry opened the cage. Hedwig hopped out immediately, she gave Harry an affectionate nip on the ear, and then took off into the skies. Though not before squeaking angrily at Professor Jackson, who just glared at her.

"So…" Harry said, asking the question that had been burning away at him for several minutes, "So how are we getting there?"

"With this," Professor Jackson said, before whipping his wand out. There was a loud 'BANG' and Harry almost lost his footing, as an enormous, purple, triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air.

Harry felt a soft arm shoot out, and steady him slightly. He shot Camila a grateful, and shy smile, before ducking his head when she gave him another of those kind smiles, his stomach erupting into butterflies. In an effort to distract himself, he turned his attention back to the bus. A conductor was leaping off the bus, and reading off of a little script, held tightly in his hand,

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard-" He began reading loudly, before Professor Jackson pushed three golden coins, galleons, into the pimply-faced youth's breast pocket.

"Your next stop is Diagon Alley. And you won't be asking any questions, will you?" Professor Jackson said in a low tone, giving the teen a meaningful look. The teen goggled at him, and looked down at his breast-pocket which was teeming with gold. He then straightened his back, and gave a crisp salute. Professor Jackson nodded, before tucking two more galleons into the teen's breast pocket, and leading Harry and Camila onto the bus.

Harry couldn't help but feel that there was something strange going on. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful that Professor Jackson had come to take him from the Dursley's, far from it, but things weren't adding up. Professor Jackson's hand kept twitching around his wand, and he and Camila kept casting nervous glances to their surroundings, scanning buildings and trees as they climbed into the bus.

The inside was nothing like any bus Harry had ever been in before. There were rows and rows of beds, with several sleeping witches and wizards dozing comfortably between their sheets. In the middle of the bus, was an ornate chandelier, and oddly enough, the inside of the bus seemed far larger than should have been possible.

Professor Jackson lead them to a pair of beds in the back corner. He placed Harry's case on one of the beds, and cast a sticking charm to it. He took a seat on the bed next to it, with Camila taking the seat immediately next to him. Harry took the bed immediately opposite.

Harry was about to ask what the bus was, when there was a sudden 'BANG' and Harry was thrown onto his back. Steadying himself, he looked out the window and saw they were somehow on Charing Cross Road. Cars, taxi's and buses were jumping out of the way of the bus as it thundered down the road at speeds that were beyond terrifying.

Harry felt something crinkle up in the pocket of his slacks. Reaching in, he pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form, and frowned in disappointment. In all the excitement of leaving the Dursley's he'd forgotten to get the permission slip signed by Uncle Vernon. Professor Jackson, who'd been watching him in curiosity, asked,

"What's that, Harry? And why do you look like someone just kicked your owl?"

"Oh," Harry said, unable to hide the disappointment from his voice, "It's just the Hogsmeade permission form. I forgot to get Uncle Vernon to sign it before we left."

A look of comprehension crossed Professor Jackson's face, before he smirked at Camila, who just rolled her eyes and smiled, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow,

"Can I see that, Harry?" Professor Jackson asked, holding his hand out for the form. Confused, Harry nodded and handed over the form. Professor Jackson took it, and looked at the bottom of the form for a moment. Then, he waved a hand over the bottom of the page, over the line where the parent or guardian was meant to sign. The same strange, watery vapor passed through the air from his fingertips. Smirking, Professor Jackson handed the paper back to Harry.

Taking it back, Harry's eyes scanned the paper. The he took a second look. At the bottom of the page, in Uncle Vernon's ugly hand-writing, was a signature. Uncle Vernon's signature. It was a perfect copy. Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, and he turned his stunned look back at Professor Jackson who just winked at him,

"Don't tell Professor McGonagall," He said cheekily.

"Honestly, Percy. You're his teacher, you're supposed to be setting an example," Camila chided, though she couldn't quite hide her smile. Professor Jackson just shrugged, and gave Harry a cheeky grin,

"A little rule-bending is ok every once in a while, ain't it Harry?" He asked,

Harry though, was still too stunned to speak. Gratitude swelled in his chest. Unable to say anything, he just smiled back at Professor Jackson and safely tucked the form back into his pocket.

He had just put the form away, when the brakes squealed and Harry nearly went flying, only to stop as Professor Jackson, who was somehow staying stationary with Camila looking equally calm next to him, threw out a hand and caught him.

"All right, let's go," Professor Jackson said, coming to his feet even before the bus had fully stopped moving. Within moments, they had unloaded while the conductor, who was wearing a name tag that read "Stan," pretended he didn't see them. The moment they were off the bus, it disappeared again with another loud, 'BANG' and Harry noticed they were outside a side entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

Once more, Harry noticed that Professor Jackson was behaving oddly, he was scanning the streets, eyeing down a group of drunken teenagers as they stumbled out of a nearby pub, as he held the door to the Leaky Cauldron open, and ushered them inside.

Given the late hour, Harry was unsurprised to see that the tavern inside was empty, save for the lonely innkeeper Tom, who was standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses with a dish rag. He looked up as they came in, and gave Harry a large, toothless grin.

"Mr. Potter," He said brightly, "And Professor Jackson, good to see you. He's right upstairs, in the drawing room, shall I have a meal brought up, sir?"

"Please and thank you, Tom," Professor Jackson said, gently guiding Harry forward and towards the stairs leading to the upstairs rooms of the inn.

"Who's upstairs, professor?" Harry asked,

"I'll explain everything in a minute, Harry," Professor Jackson said.

Once they reached the landing to the second floor, Professor Jackson began leading the way down a long corridor, past a series of rooms, before coming to a large, ornate looking oak door, that looked very out-of-place in the old tavern. Professor Jackson pushed the door open, and led the way inside.

There was a man inside, one Harry recognized. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was bent over something at the large desk at the far end of the room. Looking up at the sound of the door, the irritated expression at being disturbed was immediately replaced with an enormous grin.

"Percy, my good man," He said, striding around the other side of the desk, his arms spread wide in greeting. Professor Jackson plastered an equally large grin on his face, and strode to Fudge,

"Good to see you Cornelius," he greeted, gripping the man's hand in a firm handshake, as Fudge pat him on the shoulder.

"How are you, my friend?" Fudge asked relinquishing his grip, "You seem to be moving around well, you've recovered then?"

Professor Jackson nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Doing much better, thank you. Went over to Russia for a few weeks and spent some time with Anna,"

"And how is Ms. Agopov? I haven't seen her since President Aisamov's birthday last year,"

"She's doing well, she's taken over for her father so she's been busy, but things have been looking up. She's reshaping the Coven to be a bit more contemporary. You're looking good Cornelius, have you lost weight?"

"You noticed!" Fudge laughed, patting his still portly stomach happily, "2 stone in the last few months! Matilda has had me on this new diet, Merpeople eggs and dragon's milk! Been doing wonders for me."

"And how is the Mrs.?" Professor Jackson asked, as Harry stood there uncomfortably. As the two continued to talk and catch up, Harry felt warm breath on his cheek and a distinct smell of jasmine as Camila leaned down,

"You know who that is?" She asked in barely more than whisper, and Harry flushed slightly at the proximity to the pretty witch,

"That's the Minister for Magic," Harry said equally as soft, "But how-?"

"Percy helped Fudge out of a tricky spot a few years ago. Normally, Percy doesn't like to play politics, but at my insistence he's kept a strong relationship with Fudge going." She told him, answering Harry's unasked question.

Fudge finally seemed to notice that there were other people in the room, as his eyes darted between Harry and Camila. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he turned his wide grin on Camila,

"Ms. Chambers." He greeted warmly, patting Professor Jackson on the arm as he strode by to greet Camila. "Lovely to see you again," He held out a hand that Camila accepted,

"You too, Minister," She said cordially, "A shame we couldn't see each other under better circumstances,"

Better circumstances? Harry thought to himself, wondering again, just what was going on. Did that have something to do with the strange way Professor Jackson had been acting on their way to the inn?

Fudge flinched slightly, and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his forehead, "Indeed. Terrible business, terrible business. Now then," He said, turning a fatherly smile on Harry, who felt his spine go rigid, "You must be Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you at last. I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Harry said, shaking the man's hand. He, of course, already knew who Cornelius Fudge was. Harry had seen the man the previous year, as he took Hagrid away from the school. Not that the Minister knew that, Harry had been hidden under his father's Invisibility Cloak at the time.

Fudge released Harry's hand, and sent an uncomfortable look at Professor Jackson, as he settled himself in a plump and comfortable looking sofa. Camila took a spot next to him, crossing her legs delicately over one another.

"Are you, erm, certain about this Percy. You know I trust your judgement but-"

"He needs to know Cornelius. He's a good kid, and he's made of sterner stuff than you are giving him credit for. Trust me."

Harry was feeling fit to burst. All night, Professor Jackson had been acting strange, and then there was the fact that Professor Jackson had shown up at all, it didn't seem like normal behavior for professors to check up on students in the summer, regardless of what had happened in the previous term. There was a lot more happening than Harry knew, and he was getting sick of feeling like he was out of the loop.

"What's going on, sir?" He asked, looking to Professor Jackson, who just gestured to the comfortable looking armchair across from him. Taking the seat, Fudge sequestered himself in the chair behind the desk, and looked like he was more than comfortable allowing Professor Jackson to take the reins of the conversation.

"How much have you been paying attention to the news, Harry?" Professor Jackson asked rather casually.

Harry, unsure what that had to do with anything, shrugged.

"Well," Professor Jackson began shifting slightly on the couch, "Does the name…Sirius Black mean anything to you?"

Harry screwed his eyes up in thought. That name rang a bell, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it. It hadn't been in any of the letters he'd received. It hadn't been in any of the papers sent to the Dursley's…and then his head shot up, and Harry met Professor Jackson's eyes.

"He was on the muggle news, something about breaking out of prison somewhere," Then he furrowed his brow, "But…why would you care about some muggle criminal…unless"

"Unless Sirius Black wasn't a no-maj at all" Camila finished for Harry, nodding at him gently,

"Then…who is, Sirius Black?" Harry asked, "And-and what does he have to do with me?"

Professor Jackson and Camila seemed to have a silent conversation of sorts, before Professor Jackson sighed, and explained, "Sirius Black was, twelve years ago, a very loyal follower of Voldemort." Fudge squeaked in indignation, and refused to look at either Professor Jackson or Harry, but Professor Jackson ignored him, "After Voldemort's downfall, his followers were scattered. Several of them feigned innocence. Others…"

"Other's lost what sense of humanity they had left," Camila snarled, "Black was one of them. After Voldemort's fall, he went mad. Blew up a non-magical street, and killed twelve no-maj. Four of which were American citizens," She said, turning a stern expression of Fudge, who flinched again, but didn't meet her gaze, "And one wizard. When officials from the Ministry arrived, he surrendered without a fight, and he was deposited into Azkaban, where he has been for the last twelve years." Camila finished, turning her attention back to Harry,

"Until a month ago," Professor Jackson said, and Harry turned back to him, "When he somehow managed to escape from the prison. Which is part of the reason why I grabbed you tonight. Aside from wanting you away from those people, there were several of us who voiced our concerns at letting you stay there for the duration of the summer."

"Not that I'm complaining, sir," Harry said carefully, "But why are you telling me this? You don't-you don't think he escaped to come after me…do you?"

"The thought certainly crossed our minds," Professor Jackson said, never one to mince words, "Black was one of Voldemort's most loyal followers, and well it makes sense that he'd want to go after the one who defeated his master. What was it he was saying when you were there Cornelius?"

Fudge was so startled at being so suddenly addressed, that he jumped in his seat, knocking an ink well off his desk. Professor Jackson just deftly stopped and replaced the ink well with his wand, and Fudge tried to get himself under control. He shot Professor Jackson a shaky smile as he played with his bowler hat and answered,

"Just kept repeating, 'He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts,' what the absolute madman."

Professor Jackson just nodded, and turned his attention back to Harry, "The way I figure it, either he's after Dumbledore, or he's after you. But most likely he's after the both of you, and as much as we all appreciate what Dumbledore is capable of, if Black can escape from Azkaban-"

"He might be able to sneak into Hogwarts," Harry finished, feeling slightly stunned. He was thankful that he was sitting, because his legs had gone slightly numb. Harry had always known that there would be those who would want revenge for Voldemort's downfall, his former followers seeking vengeance on the boy who had defeated their lord. But Harry had always been able to push the thought out of his mind, after all, he spent most of his year at Hogwarts which was one of the safest buildings on the planet. But to have the information that there was a mass-murderer out on the loose, and that he was likely after Harry, was unnerving.

Professor Jackson nodded solemnly, "I hope you understand then, why we," He gestured between himself and Fudge, "Felt that it was important that you had some added protections. There will be additional security at Hogwarts this year, and for the duration of your summer Holidays we," He again gestured between himself and Fudge, "As well as Professor Dumbledore, feel that it is in the best interest of your own personal safety, that you are somewhere where you can be more adequately protected and that you have someone capable around you. Just in case"

Camila leaned over and pat Professor Jackson on the chest, "Percy here volunteered to hang out with you here in Diagon Alley over the next couple of weeks."

"I assure you, Harry," Continued Fudge, who looked as though he'd regained some of his composure, "That Percy here is about as qualified as they come. I've seen him in action myself, and I feel sorry for the poor sod who tries to get to you when he's around." He tried to assure Harry, "Naturally," Fudge continued, "We have taken precautions with the entire alley, as well as the Leaky Cauldron. There are several new protective enchantments in place, and there are a few aurors, magical, erm, police if you will, stationed in the alley. Again, we aren't expecting an attack necessarily, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Still," He turned to address Professor Jackson, "We think it's best if you stay in the alley, just in case."

Professor Jackson just waved a hand in understanding, but winked at Harry when Fudge looked away. Harry gave his professor, what he hoped, was a grateful smile. In truth, Harry wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, he was rather grateful. It was clear that Professor Jackson had gone to a great deal of trouble, in order to get Harry into what he felt, was a safe situation. And he was very grateful, that Professor Jackson was insisting that Harry know what was going on. It was clear, to Harry at least, that Fudge had not been too keen on the idea of telling Harry the truth, but Professor Jackson had insisted that Harry be told, which appreciated immensely.

But on the other hand, Harry didn't really like the thought that all of these protections and precautions were in place to protect him. Had he not proven in his last two years that he was capable of taking care of himself? But just as the thought occurred to him, he bit it back. He had only gotten away from Quirrell due to sheer dumb luck and his mother's love. And he'd only gotten out of the Chamber the year before, because Professor Jackson's friends had been there. The more Harry thought, the more he realized that if he, a thirteen-year old with only two years of wizarding experience, went up against a mass-murderer and a fully-grown wizard, he wasn't likely to get away cleanly.

The more he thought about it, the more that Harry hated it. He hated that he kept having to get bailed out by others, he hated that he couldn't solve his own problems, and Harry hated that he seemed to keep inconveniencing Professor Jackson with his own problems. His fists tightened as his resolve hardened. He would abide by whatever rules they set for him, if only because Professor Jackson had clearly gone to a lot of trouble. He also resolved that he'd put a greater effort into his studies. If what Professor Jackson was saying was true, then Black, while dangerous, wouldn't be the only person that would want revenge. And, if the previous few years were any indication, Harry had a bad feeling that before his time at Hogwarts was over, he'd be in another death-defying situation; and the next time he was, there would be no guarantee that help would arrive in time. Harry refused to sit on the sidelines any longer. He refused to be helpless, he refused to let his parents sacrifice be in vein.

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts when calloused hand shook his shoulder. Looking up with a start, he saw Professor Jackson was staring at him, worriedly.

"You all right, Harry?" He asked gently, and Harry met his eyes,

"Yes sir," Harry said quickly, "Just…just a bit of a shock is all."

Professor Jackson regarded him for a minute, then nodded, and sat back down in the couch.

"Understandable Harry. This is…a rough situation, but I think you are mature enough to know the truth." He said, as he sank back into the cushions of the couch.

Harry shook his head vigorously, "No sir, it's-it's all right. I get it, and thank you," He add hastily, "For volunteering to look after me. I know it's probably an inconvenience and-"

"Harry," Professor Jackson said with a laugh, "Not an inconvenience at all. I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't want to do it. Besides," He jerked his head at Camila, "She and the others keep pushing me to take it easy. So, a few weeks relaxing in Diagon Alley with you, should be a fun way to spend the rest of the summer."

Harry nodded, and in spite of himself, he smiled. In spite of the fact that he was apparently being hunted down by a mass-murderer hell-bent on revenge, his summer was turning out to be even better than the last. He'd only had to suffer a month at the Dursley's and even then, they'd been quite good given their record. But to have free reign to spend the remainder of his summer holidays sleeping in, wandering around the magical alleys of Diagon Alley, and experiencing all the wonderful things the wizarding world had to offer, while spending time with arguably his favorite professor, was hardly what he would call imprisonment.

"See, Cornelius," Professor Jackson said with a broad grin, gesturing to Harry with one hand as he turned to look at Fudge, "I told you he'd handle it well."

Fudge just smiled and shook his head ruefully, "I should know better by now than to argue with you Percy," He said fondly, "You're right of course, and Harry," Fudge said addressing Harry, "I apologize for all this mess and for the run-around. It's not that we don't trust you it's just this would be shocking to anyone, let alone someone with only two years of wizarding education,"

"Oh no, Minister," Harry was quick to say. And then, after a quick glance at Professor Jackson's meaningful look in his direction, said, "It's quite all right. You were just trying to look after me. I really appreciate everything you've been doing for me sir. It really means a lot."

That had been the right thing to say, apparently, as Fudge beamed at Harry and waved a hand nonchalantly at him, "Think nothing of it my boy, think nothing of it." Then he took a quick glance at a nearby clock, "Good lord it's getting late, why don't you head off to bed then Harry,"

Professor Jackson stood up, "I'll show him to his room, Minister, I think you and Camila have some things you need to discuss," And Harry took that as his cue to stand as well, climbing out of the comfortable armchair.

"Right, right, of course," Said Fudge earnestly, casting a slightly nervous glance in Camila's direction.

Professor Jackson strode over to the Minister, and gave him another firm handshake, clapping him on the back, "Bring the missus by Hogsmeade this year if you get the chance, won't you? I'd love to catch up properly," Fudge agreed easily, his expression brightening considerably, and beamed more broadly when Harry approached to shake his hand as well, and thank the Minister again. With a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, Professor Jackson guided him out of the room.

"What business does Camila have with the Minister, sir?" Harry asked, looking up at Professor Jackson,

"Camila, ah, works for the Congress," He said, as though that explained everything. At Harry's confused expression, he explained, "The United States' equivalent to the Ministry of Magic. Anyway, you remember what she said in there right?" He asked gesturing with his head back toward the room they'd just left, and Harry nodded.

"Well, because American citizens were involved, Congress has a pretty special interest in making sure that Black gets caught. Camila is just here to make sure that the Ministry is taking things seriously."

"Oh," Harry said, having nothing else to add, and the pair fell into companionable silence, until Professor Jackson showed Harry to a door at the other end of the corridor.

"I'll be in the room next door" Professor Jackson said with a jerk of his head, "So just holler if you need anything."

"Of course, sir," and made to turn to his room, but he noticed that Professor Jackson wasn't moving, he was just standing there, perched comfortably against the wall of the inn, staring at Harry intently.

"Sir?" Harry asked cautiously,

"How are you feeling, really, Harry?" Professor Jackson asked, his eyes boring into Harry's. Harry flinched slightly. He should have known that Professor Jackson could read him a bit more easily than most. For a brief moment, Harry considered lying, as he'd done about the Dursley's but it was clear that Professor Jackson knew Harry well enough to know when he was lying, so, with a sigh, he explained what he'd been thinking.

When Harry was finished, Professor Jackson let out a bitter laugh, as he ducked his head so his chin was resting on his chest.

"Harry, if I didn't know that it was impossible, I'd swear we were related." He said

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused,

"Nothing, Harry, it's just that you and I really are remarkably similar, and not just because we both seem to be cursed to attract far more trouble than should be possible," Professor Jackson said with a shake of his head. "No, Harry, I get it. Believe me, I get it. I'm the same way. I always think that my problems are someone else's inconvenience. But Harry, let me just assure you, that I am not doing this out of obligation, but because I genuinely care for your well-being." Profess Jackson assured Harry. He then regarded Harry for a moment,

"How serious are you, about being prepared for when the time comes for someone to confront you about your history with Voldemort?" He asked, and the question through Harry off his balance for a moment, and it took him a second to recover,

"Very serious, sir!" Harry said quickly, once he'd righted himself, "It's like I said before, sir, Black can't be the only person out for me, for what happened when I was a baby. Whether I actually defeated Voldemort or not, there are going to be people after me my whole life probably. And in the last two years, it's become pretty clear that I'm never exactly safe, am I sir? So-so I want to be able to defend myself, I want to be able to stand up for myself sir. I know I only have a few years of training, but that won't be good enough will it? Especially if Voldemort is really still out there somewhere, especially if he might come back. I need to be ready, don't I sir?"

Professor Jackson just kept staring at Harry, before he seemed to come to a decision, and nodded at him.

"Very well, if you don't mind spending a little extra gold, I can show you a few books tomorrow that I think you should be able to get the grip of. They won't be anything too complex, but they'll be a start if nothing else. Once you get a hold of those, well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

Harry was stunned for a moment. He hadn't been sure what he'd expected from Professor Jackson. Maybe he'd expected his professor to tell Harry not to worry about it, that he was too young to be concerned with such things, and to leave that to his professors, but for Professor Jackson to just offer his help so easily…Harry wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Professor…" Harry began, feeling slightly choked up, "I don't…are you sure you should be helping me like that?" He finally asked, and Professor Jackson just laughed,

"If I didn't, you'd just do it anyways Harry," He said with a roguish grin, and Harry felt himself flush slightly, "At least this way, you know that you're going about things the right way. Besides," His grin dropped and he became more serious, "I think you're completely right to be worried. I won't kid you Harry, there are people out there who want nothing more than your head mounted on their wall. Black's escape is just proof that they won't stop simply because you're at Hogwarts. And, well, if your last two years are any indication, you're not exactly safe at the castle either, are you?" He didn't wait for Harry to reply,

"No, I think you need to start learning how to better prepare yourself, again nothing overly complicated, but I think starting you out with some simple stunning techniques and shield charms will go a long way to making you feel a bit more comfortable. Come find me tomorrow morning Harry, and we'll put a book list together. Sound good?"

Harry nodded eagerly, before thanking Professor Jackson furiously. After being dismissed, Harry opened the door to his comfortable looking room. To his delight, he saw that his things had already been brought up, and Hedwig was waiting for him on her perch. After petting her, and giving her a few treats, Harry collapsed onto his bed, simply too tired to even take off his glasses, and fell asleep.

AN: And we back folks! Welcome to the third year! I got a lot of fun things in store for ya'll with this year. This is where we really begin to see the start of the effects that Percy's presence has on the story. This set of chapters focuses much more on developing the relationship between Harry and Percy, and cementing Percy as the one person Harry trusts above all others, so expect some changes, but nothing too drastic yet. I can't say this loudly enough, this year is not very action heavy. As I said, the second and third years are meant to develop Harry and Percy's relationship, and to lay the groundwork that Harry needs to become the man and hero he'll need to become. Will there be some intense moments? Sure, but they're few and far between. Instead, this year focuses more on Harry growing and developing as a person. He has a lot of mental hurdles he has to overcome before he's ready for what lies ahead. This year tackles those issues head-on. Which means there is a lot of dialogue, a lot of introspection, and a hell of a lot of messy emotions. If you don't like Harry dealing with some truly horrifying, spirit-breaking shit the way a thirteen-year-old would, then you probably won't have a good time here. Finally, and honestly I can't stress this enough, THIS STORY IS NOT ABOUT PERCY. This is Harry's story, Harry's journey to becoming a hero. Percy has his moments, but for now, they're few and far between. So, thanks again to all of you who have been enjoying this story, thanks so much for all of the love and support you all have given it, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy what I have in store for all of you, and I'll see you tomorrow. Stay safe, and stay healthy,

Love,

LilDB