Harry didn't even realize he'd dozed off until he felt a swift kick in his side.

"What are you doing, boy?" Vernon demanded angrily.

Harry, stunned by the sharp pain, gripped his injured side and stared up at his uncle, startled and speechless.

"Answer me when I speak to you!"

"I—I—"

Vernon threw his hand sin the air in a gesture of exasperation and stormed back towards the table, leaving Harry where he'd been found; leaning against the kitchen wall near the icebox. Dudley was sniggering with glee, always happy to see Harry in trouble.

Sighing, Harry stood and excused himself—a gesture which was ignored by his relatives completely. He trudged up the stairs and flopped down onto his bed. Hedwig hooted in greeting, resting on the top of her cage sleepily.

"I don't know what to do now," he muttered more to himself than his owl companion. "I just don't know what to do with myself. Why couldn't Dumbledore have let me o go the Weasley's? It's so dull and boring here, I fear I'll go—"

His vocalized thought process was interrupted by a familiar noise at the window. Sitting up and facing the glass, he saw the dimly lit shape of the small creature once again, nearly completely hidden in the darkness of night outside. A shadowy fist reached up and knocked quite loudly, rattling the glass fiercely. Harry winced, hoping that his uncle wouldn't hear the racket and come storming angrily up the stairs.

He stood and hurried to the window, thrusting it open. Without the glass in between them, he could see the creature plainly now. It was less than a foot tall, bright blue and wearing a strange, red cap on it's blue head. A thick, bushy white beard graced his chin and his eyes were staring at Harry frantically.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, amazed suddenly by his ability to attract bizarre creatures and people at the most inconvenient times. In the hallway outside of his room, he could hear Dudley fussing about his bed time and aunt Petunia trying to coax him into his room with the promise of doughnuts for breakfast.

"They call me Papa Smurf," the creature said, stepping inside and standing on the sill, gazing up at Harry. "I have come bearing the direst of warnings—"

"Of course!" Harry threw up his hands in sarcastic exasperation. "The direst of warnings! I should have guessed!"

Papa Smurf glared at the him, his eyes narrowing beneath his red cap. "I am serious. You are in immense danger, Mr. Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I already knew that."

Papa Smurf ignored him, "there is an evil, evil man coming to Hogwarts..."

"He's already there—has been awhile—his name's Snape—"

"Enough!" the angry, elderly Smurf tore off his cap and hurled it at Harry, who hopped backwards to dodge it. "If you will not take me seriously, how will I help you?" he pleaded.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, sighing and sitting back on his bed.

Papa Smurf hopped off the sill and scampered across the floor, picking up his cap and placing it back on his head carefully. He then used the edge of Harry's blanket to climb onto the bed and sit beside him.

"You are in immense danger," he began again.

"Oh, honestly, can't you say anything else?"

"But—"

Frustrated, tired and annoyed, Harry grabbed the Smurf by his white beard and began swinging him over his head wildly. The small creature squealed and yelled as he let go and he was tossed out the open window into the dark night air. There was a faint thud of Smurf-on-pavement in the distance. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.