Author's Note: I hope everyone enjoys this story to come. Though beware, I usually stop writing when I recieve no reviews, so review!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.










The Long Road to Hogsmeade: Freedom Included
Chapter 1















Harry Potter was a not a normal boy, rather quite the opposite. He was shy, unbelievably so, a trait rare in the newer generation. He had a winding lightening bolt shaped scar, not quite in the middle of his forehead, slightly to the right of it. By far though, the most abnormal thing about this boy was the fact that he was a wizard.

Harry lived on Privet Drive with his most horrid muggle relatives, the Dursleys. The Dursleys were obsessed with being the most normal family in the neighborhood. Unfortunately for Harry, the Dursleys had no room for a most abnormal boy in their perfectly normal family. So once again, because Dudley had wanted to go to the zoo, he was trapped in an old, cat-infested house that smelt like cabbage, slightly down the street.

The Dursleys had left strict instructions with Mrs. Figg not to let him outside. They didn't dare take him to the zoo after what had happened last time. They didn't want the neighbors to see him. Most of all they didn't want his babysitter, Mrs. Figg, to know about his abnormality. Thus, Harry was on his "best behavior."

Looking back on the morning, Harry found himself in the Kitchen of number 4 Privet Drive.

"You mention one word of your weirdness boy and you won't eat for all we care. No funny business." He said as he waved his chubby finger back and forth. "Don't you try anything, boy."

Thus, the reason that he was stuck staring out the window on the top story of Mrs. Figg's house, on a Saturday afternoon. Mrs. Figg had lost one of her favorite cats, who happened to be hiding in the attic of her old house on Privet Drive, so Harry was stuck up here.

"The dusty old attic, great." Muttered Harry as he sat down on an old chest. "Why does everything have to happen to me?"

Harry looked up at the roof . . . in hope of an answer. The roof. The roof. The same roof with cob webs, and high cracked beams crossing it. There surprisingly enough was the lost cat.

"How did you get up there?" Harry asked. The cat moved around slightly causing dust to come spraying into his eyes.

Harry wiped dust off of his glasses and out of his eyes. Why was he stuck here? It wasn't fair. Most of the kids his age would never have to go through this. Harry looked up at the spotted cat.

"Both you and I are stranded, it appears." He mumbled.

"Harry, have you found him yet?" shouted Mrs. Figg from the bottom of the stairs that led up to the attic.

"Just a second, Mrs. Figg." Shouted back Harry. Harry stacked a few boxes on top of each other and climbed up on top of a few. He placed one foot on the window seel and another on one of the boxes. Harry took the kitten, getting a few scratches along the way, and climbed down.

Harry took the last step off of the stairs and handed the cat to old Mrs. Figg.

"Thank you, dear, I hope you didn't get hurt, did you? Your Aunt would kill me if you had." Stated Mrs. Figg as she walked from the away shaking her free hand back and forth. "Come watch the Tele with me, Harry dear, and I will let you have a slice of Fruit cake after lunch."

Harry had no choice, so he walked into the living room with his head down. For the next hour and a half, Harry had watched "The Wheal of Fortune" with Mrs. Figg, who would shout out the answers every time a contestant got one wrong.

Harry had a salad with Mrs. Figg for lunch. A frozen salad. Harry had thought that the taste must have left the food when it was frozen. Luckily for Harry, Mrs. Figg fell asleep soon after her last bite of salad, so Harry wouldn't have to have some of her horrible fruit cake.

Harry stared at the roof for a while before going into her back yard where he climbed the tree. He sat for close to an hour in the tree, listening to the birds and feeling the tree sway back and forth, until Mrs. Figg came running out of the house quickly.

"Harry, get down from there, you might hurt yourself." She watched until he climbed his way down the tree. "Come on inside, I'll let you see my cats."

Harry had no choice in the matter, so he walked inside the house and watched old Mrs. Figg shuffle through old photo albums over and over again.

When the Doorbell rang, Harry was actually glad to go home to the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon made Harry run home. He had only rung the doorbell to look normal. Harry was glad for any chance to be with himself, and though he hated to admit it, he was finally getting some much needed exercise.

When Harry arrived at the front door, he found it locked, so instead went around to the kitchen door. Harry found a list of chores to do . . . The door was again locked. Harry sighed deeply. He knew all about this 'game.' He had to do the chores, and then he could come inside. Harry stared at the list, it was so long. Apparently, the Dursleys, decided that it they would make up for the morning that he was at Mrs. Figg's house.

Harry realizing that he wouldn't be able to get inside of the house until he completed the list of chores he was given. Harry set to work on the chores, starting by cleaning the windows.


The sun was setting when Harry put down the gardening shovel that he had been using to dig up weeds inside of the Dursley's garden. He quickly put the shovel away before heading around the back of the house once more.

Harry's muscles ached and he had a sunburn across his cheeks. He was sure to get a tan from it.

When he reached the door he found it unlocked, thankfully. He stepped inside.

"Took you long enough, lazy boy." Uncle Vernon grumbled from his chair in the living room. "You missed dinner."

Was it that late already? Did he spend all afternoon outside doing chores. Harry knew he shouldn't ask the question on his mind, but something possessed him to ask it anyways.

"Where's my dinner?"

"What dinner?" yelled his uncle as he stood up. "You'll get nothing out of me you lazy boy!" Vernon through his arm back, knocking over a lamp in the process. "Now get up to your room."

Through out this entire argument Harry could only think of one thing, 'Boy, does uncle Vernon have bad breath.' He wrinkled his nose. Harry marched to his room, quietly, surprising his uncle.

When Harry reached his room he found that Hedwig was waiting for him. He untied the package that sat on her leg.

"Thanks girl," he said as he patted Hedwig's head. He untied the package, a thin, paper-wrapped parcel. There was no inscription on the cover. Whoever had sent the package to him had felt the need to stay anonymous.

Harry quickly tore open the parcel, ignoring his hunger for the moment, to find what looked like a set of three throwing darts. Who would send him throwing darts he wondered? Would Sirius or Professor Dumbledore trust him with such weapons? Besides, he didn't even know how to throw stones, much less darts.

Harry swiftly came to conclusion that the darts set was definitely not sent by Sirius or Professor Dumbledore.

'Hermione would never send anything like these.' Thought Harry, she probably wouldn't trust him with them, she never seemed to trust him to take care of himself. 'Maybe Ron?'

Harry stared down at the set. Definitely not Ron, these were made with fine perls and... were those... were those Phoenix feathers? Harry saw the name 'Harry Potter' etched in gold along the shaft of the throwing dart, the green shaft of the throwing dart. Could it be? Could he... Voldemort have somehow been able to send Harry something? No. He couldn't have, could he? No. What was he thinking. There were too many wards protecting the Dursley's house to have that happen.

Harry picked up the top throwing dart from the box. Just as he thought, the tip of the dart was covered in poison. Why would he need something covered in poison. Green. Poison. None the less. Why? That was the question. Why?


Harry woke up with sweat covering his face. What had happened? Memories of the small throwing darts flooded into his mind. Was it a dream he asked himself. It couldn't have been, it was so realistic.

He looked down at the floor for a few moments. It. Was. A. Dream–nothing more. When had he fallen asleep?-oh well... it obviously didn't have anything that important in it.

Harry strode down the stairs with an air of authority surrounding him. The positive jump in his step seemed to have set place inside him like it was edged in stone.

"Get your lazy butt in the kitchen, boy." growled his uncle. Harry's step suddenly lost its positive jump.

'Perhaps that positive jump needs to settle in.' thought Harry. He slowly slid his way into the kitchen where he knew exactly what he was suppose to do.

Slowly walking over to the refrigerator, he got out two eggs, Dudley's new diet. Apparently, Dudley was missing a great amount of protein, interestingly enough though, he had more than his share of Carbohydrates and sugars. Thus, eggs were the new meal. Eggs with milk, goat milk. The refrigerator had milk and eggs stacked on every shelf. Eggs and goat milk, vile stuff. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Seven days a week.

He quickly heated the eggs in a pan, and heated some goat's milk in a pot. A few minute after Harry had managed scrap the contents of both the pot and the pan in their rightful container, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley came inside the kitchen. Dudley was busy telling his mother how popular he was at school, and how horrid it was having to tell his new girlfriend where his cousin was being held during the winter. How Dudley had gotten a girlfriend was totally beyond Harry, and if what Dudley said that she looked like was true, then the girl must have been a nutcase. Harry sneaked a look at his uncle. He seemed bored, slightly disappointed to have to switch from one diet to another.

They all sat awkwardly around the table, with Dudley on one side and the three other people present on the other. They started to eat. Aunt Petunia swallowed the food mumbling how good it was to Dudley all the way down. Dudley on the other hand was shuffling the eggs around on his plate. He smashed a small portion of it around the brim of the plate with his fork, and hid the bigger portion of it under his knife. Vernon and Harry seemed to be working for the same thing, though they hated each other.

Harry's pov

Dudley was being urged to eat his food much similar to how a toddler might be convinced to eat his, by Aunt Petunia. Harry watched as Dudley hid his food and looked up at him. Dudley made a punched his hand, causing waves to shiver up his arm.

A small jerking movement in the side of his eye cause him to look down. Uncle Vernon was leaning over and putting his egg behind the fake tree that sat by the door to the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon looked up at me.

"Give here, boy" he whispered in hush tones. Harry slid his egg into a napkin and gave it to his uncle. Uncle Vernon persisted in putting the eggs behind the pot. "Throw them away later."

Harry smirked. 'He had cake waiting upstairs, Uncle Vernon didn't have anything.' Harry's thoughts were interrupted by his uncle grumbling at him.

"Lets go out to dinner tonight," suggested Uncle Vernon with glee. "The boy should have some regular food too."

Aunt Petunia seemed disappointed by having to go out to dinner. She seemed to enjoy eating the eggs as much as Dudley enjoyed eating chocolate.

"Boy, come out here into the den so I can give you your list of chores."

Harry followed wordlessly. He knew that it could not be helped, and besides, if he didn't do the chores where would he go? He had no one. No one who loved him like a son. No one to talk to. No one to hug. So he might as well keep his mind off of that and just do the chores.


As he reached the door, Uncle Vernon shushed him immediately. By soundless footsteps, Uncle Vernon lead Harry to the Cupboard under the stairs. He opened the door and to Harry's amazement, was greeted by the sight of food. Not eggs sort of food. Real food. Real. Food. His uncle had been holding out on him. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and crawled inside the small cupboard.

"Quit staring at me, boy." Uncle Vernon looked nervous. "we will starve if we keep eating that stuff. I have some boxes in the Garage, I need you to sneak them in here and help clean up the eggs everyday."

Harry stared at Uncle Vernon for a while.

"And we can share some of my goodies in here too." he said as he motioned to the wrapped sandwiched, soda bottles, and begs of chips.

This pleased Harry, if he was caught, he wouldn't be punished bad. He wouldn't have to eat anymore of the tasteless, watery eggs and goat milk. And he would benefit over all in this deal.

"Fine." Harry answered his pleading Uncle. "What if Dudley finds out?"

"He won't." Vernon shrugged. "You'll see to that."


Harry spent the majority of the week sneaking Uncle Vernon's food into the cupboard. His uncle was in an unnaturally good mood today as he strode through the door; promising to reveal a secret to the rest of the family during their dinner.

Dudley trotted into the kitchen, causing several of the nearby pictures to fall from their never-changing area on the walls. Harry slowly followed after him; because he did not eat anymore at dinner time, these periods were starting to become just a dreaded meeting of his nasty relatives.

Uncle Vernon was already sitting at the head of the table, a joyous presence was plastered to his face. Harry almost wondered if someone had cast a cheerful charm on him. These thoughts brought him to Sirius. He wondered where his godfather might be at the moment, whether his godfather was in any danger. Well, any mortal danger anyways, his godfather was always in danger of getting captured by the ministry of magic.

With half of dinner past, aunt Petunia was getting very antsy, wondering what news her husband held. Vernon, noticing her obvious excitement, stood up to tell his family the news.

"Today, Mr. Grunnings came into the office, and promoted me!" Vernon, at this point looked around at the faces of his family. Petunia looked excited, Dudley was bored, and Harry was not paying attention. For the sake of his pride and his wife Petunia, he went on. "I am now executive manager of all Grunnings Drill factories in the London area."

At this, Petunia screamed out of joy, not joy for her husband's new job, but joy for the new social rank her family was just given. After a few seconds of whooping, she stepped out of the room to call her Bridge friends to tell (brag) the good news.

The moments sitting at the kitchen table with his cousin and uncle had to be the longest time of Harry's life. The rest of the member's of the house hold quickly threw away any extra 'food,' and left Harry to quickly wash the dishes.


The picture was that of his parents. Somehow it had slipped out of the book Hagrid gave him. Harry stared down at it, his parents with their friend. Their wedding day.

The garage door could be heard going up, and Uncle Vernon's car could be seen backing out of the driveway. Harry went back to the picture.

Sirius Black was grinning at him, a big toothy grin, blinking his eyes every so often. Where was Sirius right now? Was he safe? Harry pondered this for the second time.

Harry's eyes flew to Peter Pettigrew. The little rat, wormtail. Memories of the events at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament returned to his mind. Images of wormtail carrying you-know-who flooded his memory. The portkey, the graveyard, the bones, and the green spell; and he had let a wounded boy die. He should be the one dead. Cedric should have lived. He should have jumped, done anything. Instead he just rolled around on the floor, holding his scar. He should have ignored his scar. His scar, the root of all his problems. This damned lightening bolt shaped scar.

Harry rolled over and cried himself to sleep. Drifting off to the sound of the clock downstairs.


Harry woke up to the sound of the television down stairs. The wheel of fortune was on. He could here the goofy sound at the end of the show. What time was it?

He looked over at the semi-broken watch on his bedside table.

11:36 pm

He figured that his aunt and uncle were still up to pick up Dudley. He jumped slightly at the sound of the phone ringing. He heard his uncles preoccupied voice from below.

"Yes, yes, he did what? My son would never do that, officer. I don't know what it could have been–no he is not crazy, officer. No, I don't know where he may have gotten it. Yes, I am his father. Sure, I will be right down."

Harry heard the ding as he slammed the phone down. "Boy, get your arse down here!" He shouted up at Harry.

Harry moved slowly toward the door, he felt every step closer was one away from Hogwarts, he could feel the uncertainly in his feet. The tips seemed hard to move today.


Harry found himself waiting for Vernon to bail out Dudley, Apparently, Dudley was found naked, on the top of a tree, at the party. The police told Aunt Petunia that they believe that Dudley had taken drugs.

Uncle Vernon came out of the office with Dudley and the officer.

"Do you have any idea where he may have gotten them?" the officer inquired.

"No, idea" Uncle Vernon started, "–I mean to say, I know exactly where he got them." Uncle Vernon grinned a devilish grin at Harry, then glanced over at the policeman. The officer seemed to be hanging off of his Uncle's every word. "My nephew–has a bunch of it–I warned him to get rid of it." His uncle glanced over at him.

"Sir?" the officer questioned, looking at the scrawny boy, in rag-tag clothes before him.

"Its true!" his aunt shot out. "He grows a bit of it in his room!"

The officer stared at her for a moment.

"Well," said the officer with hesitation. "bring it to me, in the mean time, I will hold him in custody."

As he said this, he started to escort Harry to a single holding cell. Still looking quite doubtful at Harry.


When Vernon managed to return to the jail, it was well after 4:30 am, Dudley was muttering something about giant bugs. Vernon reached inside of his coat and produced a sorry-looking bag of cocain. Powdered cocain. Harry wondered where he had managed to get it. The officer, amazingly still on duty, inspected the bag before laughing his head off.

"This is cocain." he managed out in between gasps.

"And?" inquired Uncle Vernon.

"Your son had large amounts of marijuana in his blood, nothing like this." He held up the plastic bag. The officer made for the keys, to unlock the holding cell that Harry was contained in.

"STOP!" fumed Uncle Vernon. "These drugs were in his room, in his possession, do your job."

The officer stopped in his tracks. He buckled around in his step. "Thank you for pointing that out Mr. Durdle..." The officer started.

"That's Dursley." replied his Uncle, hand clenched in fury. "I bid you goodnight." The Dursleys started to walk out.

"And a very good night to you, sir!" The officer called back.


Harry woke up to the sound of his lock "clicking." Harry felt around on the cot for his glasses. As he struggled to put them on, he was greeted with the site of Mr. Weasley, Percy, Mr. Bode, Mr. Croaker, and a few other odd faces. He looked over Percy's shoulder, where he saw Mr. Peasgood, modifying memories.

"I didn't do it!" cried Harry to Mr. Weasley.

"We know," replied Ron's father, "but you know reporters, if they get a word of it, there could be big problems." Mr. Weasley sighed. "We had Ron clear your things. . . knew we would miss something–Professor Dumbledore says you may spend the rest of the summer with us."

Harry grinned. Half of the summer with the Weasleys.