I was really bored, what can I say? So I decided to do like many others and do my version of book #5! I bet you could just touch yourself with joy! Touching yourself or not, please read and review. Your doing so would make me want to touch myself. There will be lots of twists, turns and very, very unexpected surprises in this story. You have been warned.




Harry trudged behind his uncle, up the driveway towards number four Privet drive. The house looked just as it always did when he returned from Hogwarts—and it held the same cold, dark sense of foreboding. As they reached the stoop, he watched a vein in the back of Vernon Dursley's neck pulsate angrily as he fumbled for the correct key to the front door, muttering angrily under his breath.

His uncle had said nothing to him since the moment he picked him up at King's Cross station earlier that day. He had barely even acknowledged his presence. In fact, if he hadn't popped the trunk after climbing back into his car, Harry would have thought the man didn't even know he were present. Harry had loaded his things into the car himself and climbed into the back seat, avoiding the front where his vicious-looking uncle glared out of the windshield.

Inside the house it was dark and cool, as though it had been empty for awhile. Harry gazed around at the familiar furniture and surroundings. The only changes were a few new school pictures of Dudley from his Smeltings school.

"Where is everyone?' Harry asked cautiously, speaking the first words between them.

Vernon shot around to face the boy, his eyes cold.

"Out," he said darkly.

"Ah, I see," Harry gazed around again, then began to drag his trunk up the familiar staircase as his uncle disappeared into the kitchen, likely to shove something sticky and fattening in his chubby face. Hedwig's cage dangled from his left hand as he ascended the stairs, the snowy owl looking about frantically, but making no noise.

His room was the same as he'd left it, with the exception of the dust. He wasn't surprised to see that his aunt Petunia didn't bother to keep up the tidying. He set Hedwig's cage on the desk and dropped his trunk at the foot of the bed. He was relieved that Vernon hadn't confiscated all of his things and locked them under the stairs—an act which was fast becoming a tradition. However, just in case he decided to do so, Harry quickly gathered a few books, his quills and parchment from the trunk and hid them beneath the floor under his bed.

He sat on the bed then, sighing. The house felt even colder than usual in it's dark and gloomy state. Even the constant prattling of his spoiled cousin Dudley would have been better than the darkened silence. After what he'd just been through, he wasn't prepared to be thrust into such a cold, dead environment. Hell, he'd even be happy if his uncle would yell at him for something. A noise—any noise, would be welcome.

The moment he'd thought it, a slight tapping came at his window. He spun around and gasped.

A small, shadowy figure was perched outside the glass. At first, Harry thought it was Dobby, but he quickly realized the small creature was far too small to be Dobby. And was there a bluish tint to his flesh? As he stood to get a closer glance, there was a sudden sound of crunching gravel from the driveway below and almost immediately Uncle Vernon's voice bellowed up the stairs.

"Boy! Get down here!"

Harry cast a last, plaintive glance towards the small figure in the window, who was knocking again more persistently, and hurried out of the room, hoping that whatever the creature was, it didn't plan on causing him any trouble with the Dursley's.

Downstairs the lights were now on and aunt Petunia and Dudley were hurrying in the door. Vernon Dursley beamed at them brightly, ushering them inside. Judging by the fact that Dudley was in his Smelting uniform, Harry assumed that Petunia had just picked him up from his own school. The Smelting stick dangled from Dudley's right hand. "And how was school?" Vernon demanded eagerly, tugging Dudley towards the kitchen.

Harry stood by silently as Petunia trotted past him, mumbling something about a freshly baked 'welcome home' cake and wondering why his uncle had called him down at all. None of them seemed to even notice he'd come down the stairs. Sighing, he followed the group into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia was placing a rather large chocolate cake before her two pudgy men. Dudley looked at it longingly as his father licked his lips.

"You've done so well with your diet," Petunia beamed, "I thought you deserved a little treat!" she brandished a knife and began to cut a wedge from the desert.

Harry snorted inwardly. Done well with his diet? Dudley didn't look a bit thinner than he'd been at the end of last summer.

Petunia quickly placed slabs of cake onto three plates, then began to put the cake away in a plastic box for safe keeping. Harry continued to watch the scene silently from the kitchen doorway, not daring to ask where his slice was. And naturally, none of them offered him a piece.

Despite their behavior, Harry was almost glad to be in the kitchen with the obnoxious trio. Their chattering was distracting enough to keep his thoughts from straying to the events of the previous year. His legs tired from his busy day, he lowered himself onto the kitchen floor and sighed as he listened to the familiar chatter and tinkling of forks on plates.