Disclaimer: Many of the characters, thoughts and ideas that are in this fan fiction are not of my own design. Though this story is from my imagination, I realize that this is the property of Warner Bros. and J.K. Rowling. This is not J. K. Rowling's work. I also read many FFs and if you see something similar to another work it is entirely unintentional. I have posted this on harrypotter.com as well…. There it is complete and filled with cliffies… hence my screen name Princess of cliffies on the Harry Potter boards I go by the name of rebcschult in case you would like to read it in it's original form…. Also this was written preOotP hence the name…. but I decided after much deliberation and coercion from my on line friends who wanted me to post it here that I would finally do so! I am also writing a year six to follow this year five on the boards, which when I'm finished over there and done editing it I will post here as well…

Becky(rebcschult and PrincessOfCliffiesRCS)

P.S. Please read and review!

CHAPTER TWO – AT MRS. FIGG'S

Harry woke to his Aunt pounding at his door. "Harry Potter, you get up out of that bed right now. Mrs. Figg expects you at her house in 25 minutes and I am not about to drive you there. So get up. Now!!"

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. 7:05am. He sighed heavily. He had been working at Mrs. Figg's house every day now for a week. As he sat up every one of his muscles ached. He winced as he gingerly got to his feet and started getting ready for the day.

Harry had hoped that his Aunt Petunia was joking about the fact that she had wanted him to work for Mrs. Figg. But here it was day 8 of the early morning wake up call. Mrs. Figg so far had made Harry scrub her floors with a very small brush, scrub out her bathtub, weed her garden, clean out her refrigerator (which had obviously not been cleaned in several years), and clean out her entire guest room, and that was all on the first day. Since that day she had made him do much of the same things every day.

Harry felt that he couldn't scrub or weed another thing. And he got nothing for it. Mrs. Figg had an "arrangement" with his aunt that she would give all of the money that Harry earned to her. After the very first week his aunt went out and bought herself some new gaudy earrings for herself and a little TV for her little "Dudders" to take back to school with him in the fall, with the money that Harry had earned. Harry completely resented it, but there wasn't anything that he could do about it. Nothing but grin and bear it.

He went down to get his scanty meal about fifteen minutes after his aunt had woken him. He gulped down the burnt, dry toast and drank down his small glass of juice, barely enough to keep him until dinner that night, when he would drag tired bottom to the dinner table. He had been so tired that he had barely been able to do any more of his summer homework. The only good thing about it was that he hadn't had a single dream about Cedric or Voldemort. Though his thoughts did tend to dwell there during the day when he was working, no matter how hard that he tried to keep his mind from going there.

He left the house and his aunt watched him walk all the way to Mrs. Figg's house, which was on the corner of the street two streets over from where the Dursleys lived. Harry had the urge to run away and not come back, but he didn't have any of his belongings and he knew that his aunt was watching him go. He didn't even need to turn around to confirm it. He just could feel it.

He made it to Mrs. Figg's house with five minutes to spare. He knocked quietly on the door, not wanting to wake her neighbors. He heard the familiar clunk of her cane inside of the house. The door opened and a woman in her early sixties, with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun and blue eyes that were level with Harry's green ones, stood aside to let him in. As Harry walked past Mrs. Figg, he wrinkled his nose in disgust as the smell of cabbage assaulted it.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter."

"Good morning, Ma'am."

She brought him into the kitchen and began to put out the cleaning supplies that he would be using that day. As she was putting out a cleaner, she noticed a grimace on his face that he instantly tried to cover up by looking away out the window.

She didn't usually converse with the boy, as his aunt had told her that he was an irresponsible lay about with no respect for authority, and she couldn't abide by that kind of behavior. The strange thing of it was that she had never witnessed that kind of behavior from the young teenager. She thought that he conducted himself incredibly well. She decided that now was as good a time as any to break the silence.

"So, young man, how are you? You look a little pale, in my opinion."

Harry turned his face back to Mrs. Figg. He looked at her in the eyes, which seemed to pierce straight through to his very soul. He was a little surprised that she was talking to him as if he were a person. The only time that she had communicated to him before was when she wanted him to do something. He was sure that his surprise was evident on his face. But he dropped his gaze to the floor and said quietly, yet clearly, "I'm fine. Thank you, Ma'am, for asking."

"Are you sure? You look a little scrawny to me. What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"I had a piece of toast and a glass of juice, Ma'am."

"What?! Why didn't you have a well rounded breakfast?"

"I-I woke up late, I guess."

"You could have eaten your usual breakfast and then come. It's okay if you're a little late. You should never skimp on your breakfast, young man. It is the most important meal of the day."

Harry glanced up and gave her a small, sad smile before returning his eyes to the floor. "That's okay. That was my usual breakfast when I am here at home. I didn't need to take any extra time." He concentrated hard on not showing Mrs. Figg that he was in pain. He kept his eyes on the floor so that she wouldn't see the pain that was evident behind his green pupils.

Mrs. Figg was starting to get a bad feeling, like Mrs. Dursley had not been entirely truthful with her about the boy. She had told Mrs. Figg that Harry always had a good amount of food and that he never appreciated it. Her eyes narrowed at the boy standing in front of her, with his eyes downcast. She wondered what else that Mrs. Dursley had told her about the boy was untrue. She knew that there was something about this boy that suddenly made her feel the need to protect him.

At that very moment she wished that she had her sister, Arabella's, magical abilities, especially the one's that could tell her what was going on without asking. It was the first time that she had admitted that to herself. She had not spoken to her sister in years, due in part to the fact that she was a squib. She did not want to be in a world where she was an outcast. So she had chosen to turn her back on the magical world almost 40 years ago. She didn't look back. She hadn't even attended her own parents' funeral, something that she now deeply regretted.

She knew that the boy that she was looking at had lost his family and not by choice. She on the other hand had made the choice to lose the ties to her family. She made the decision right at that moment to reestablish the bond with her sister. Perhaps then Arabella could give her some insight on the situation. The problem was how to find her….

As she watched the boy a little longer she notice that he was trying hard to hide a wince. Her heart instantly went out to the boy. "Harry? Why don't you sit for a little bit before you get to work." She limped over to the table and pulled out a chair for him. He again glanced up and smiled sadly at her muttering words of thanks, before his eyes returned to the floor yet again. She had seen enough of his eyes to see the pain that resided there. And she wasn't sure how much of it was physical and how much of it was emotional.

He didn't know why Mrs. Figg was being so nice to him, but he didn't think that his legs would support him for very much longer, so he took her up on her offer. Harry sat down as gingerly as possible. His eyes rested on the hands in his lap. Suddenly Mrs. Figg's phone rang and she excused herself so that she could answer it. But before she left the room she told him to make himself comfortable.

Harry put his head down on the table and wrapped his arms about his head. Tears came to his eyes as his misery came to the front of his mind. He shut his eyes tight as he fought back the tears. He swallowed hard against the growing lump in his throat. He took some deep breaths to try and calm his emotions.

When Mrs. Figg left the kitchen to answer the phone, she never had expected who would be on the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Hello, sis."

Mrs. Figg almost dropped the phone in shock. "Arabella? I was just thinking about you!"

"I know. Remember we are twins after all."

"Yes…. How long have you known how to contact me?"

"I've always known, but not in the way that you may think."

"Huh?"

"Your husband was the twin of my husband. They were separated at birth and they found each other shortly after you two got together."

"Oh. Why did you choose now to contact me?"

"Because I felt you cry out for some answers that you thought only I could help you with. But I don't know what the questions are. So I thought I would call you and find out what I could help you with. And to try to reestablish my relationship with you." Arabella was quiet for a short time before she said quietly, "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you, too. Arabella, I'm so sorry that I lost touch with you," she gushed.

"That's okay. I forgive you."

"But if you knew where I was…. Why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"Because I respected your silence and knew that when the time was right I would hear from you again. But there will be plenty of time to talk about us and catch up later. I feel that the issue that you need to talk about is pressing. So, what can I help you with?"

"Well, I have been trying to figure out what's going on with a young man that has been working for me. I know that he…."

"Amelia, I think I've got some idea of what this is about from your thoughts. Now all I really need to know is the boy's name."

"Oh, yes. His name is Harry Potter." There was a faint pop and the phone receiver on the other end clunked to the floor. "Arabella?"

A voice came from behind her, "Yes." Amelia Figg swung around.

Standing in front of her was the mirror image of herself. "You scared me…. How did you just…?"

"That's part of the magic that you turned your back on, Amelia." Arabella looked down at Amelia's leg. "As is this…" Arabella took out her wand and pointed it at Amelia's leg, muttering something that Amelia couldn't quite hear. Amelia saw a light emit from the end of the wand and hit her leg. Instantly the pain disappeared.

"Wow. I wish I weren't a squib."

"You're not really you just need to learn everything again. You have a much greater apt for it now that you haven't used it for a while. Now where is the boy?"

"How come you are so anxious to start helping him?"

"Because if this is the boy that I believe it is, you have one of the most powerful young wizards in your house right now."

"What?!"

"Shh. Now where is he?"

Amelia realizing that the phone was still in her hand, put it down and leaned the cane on the wall since she no longer needed it. She led her sister to the kitchen where Harry now was sleeping with his head on the table.

Arabella, who still had her wand in her hand, said, "Wingardium Leviosa." Harry's limp, sleeping body lifted from the chair and floated over onto the couch in the living room. Arabella stood over the sleeping boy for a few moments and muttered something else that Amelia couldn't quite hear. But the pained look that had been upon the boy's face, left him, and was replaced with a peaceful look of sleep.

Arabella ushered her sister into the kitchen and they talked about what she had found out. Everything that Arabella told Amelia confirmed her worst fears, that the boy was being mistreated at home. She also found out the reason why Petunia had insisted on having the money that Harry earned go directly to her. Amelia was so angry that she put her fist through her kitchen table. When she looked questioningly at what had just happened, Arabella explained that it was her magic that had made her so strong.

Amelia smiled. Arabella looked thoughtful and said, "Good. Now I just need to teach you how to use it. We will need all of the help that we can get in protecting Harry this year."

"What do you mean you need help in 'protecting Harry'? What does he need protecting from?"

"You really have been out of the loop for a long time, haven't you?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with…."

"Amelia, do you realize who Harry is?"

"Petunia's nephew?" Amelia shrugged.

Arabella chuckled, "Seriously though, do you remember the really strong Dark Wizard that was starting to emerge around the time that we were at Hogwarts?"

Amelia shuddered. "How could I forget? That man haunts my dreams to this day, especially since he had vowed to kill all of the people whom he considered to be unworthy to do magic."

"Harry there," pointing at Harry, "at the age of one defeated that wizard. He is the Boy-Who-Lived. And I do know that somewhere in your mind you do recognize that title."

"Yes…. Yes, I do! And he is treated so awfully by his relatives? How can they not see who he is and how important he is to the world? How can they treat him so badly?"

"You don't know the half of it. Unfortunately that Dark Wizard has found a way to return, using Harry's blood. But I'm getting ahead of myself…." Arabella proceeded to tell Amelia what Harry's life had been like, especially over the past few years, since he had gone to Hogwarts. But also about the life he had before he went to Hogwarts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Someone's coming," said a voice suddenly.

Oh no! Not again, thought Harry from somewhere outside his dreams.

Squinting tensely through the dark, Harry and Cedric, holding their wands out, watched a figure drawing near, walking steadily toward them between the graves in a churchyard. The figure's face was not visible, but from the way it was walking, one could tell that it was carrying something. The figure was short and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over its head to obscure its face. As the figure approached the thing that it held in its arms became more visible. It looked like it could be a baby.

Harry and Cedric glanced tensely at each other then turned back to watch the approaching figure. It stopped about six feet from the boys, beside a towering marble headstone. For a few moments the three figures just looked at each other. Then without warning Harry dropped his wand, covered his face, and dropped to the ground and rolled around trying to get the pain to stop in his head.

A cold, high, maniacal voice said, "Kill the spare."

A second voice also high, but screechy said, "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light emitted from the extended arm of the man standing next to the marble headstone. Cedric fell the ground, spread eagle, with a heavy thump, very obviously dead. A scream was heard….

The scream turned into a laughter that Harry recognized. It was Voldemort. He was going after his parents again. His mother was saying something to him, something that she had told him to remember… something that he would be able to access when the time was right….

No! No! Not this again. Mum. Noooooo! Harry thought.

Harry's mother turned around as the door was blown open. The last words, that Harry heard his mother say to him, were, "I love you Harry. Always remember what I told you…." Harry's mother turned and started begging for Harry's life. She screamed and landed on the floor next to his one-year-old self, her green eyes fixed open. He remembered looking up from the green eyes of his mother into those cold red eyes of Voldemort, as he turned his wand on Harry. He was screaming….

As Arabella and Amelia had begun to finish their talk, they started hearing noises coming from the living room. They shared a look and went into the room where Harry lay sleeping. When they had left Harry he had seemed to be at such peace, but now he was thrashing and writhing on the couch. Words tumbled from his lips, "Oh no! Not again…. No! No! Not this again. Mum. Noooooo!" The two women had heard enough. They started toward Harry when a bloodcurdling scream emitted from the boy. They shook him.

Harry opened his eyes. He tried to push himself back not really recognizing for a moment where he was. He felt there was a threat of imminent danger. He looked around the room and suddenly realized where he was. Through the pain of his scar burning, he thought he was seeing double vision. He tried to sit up, but was pushed down with two pairs of hands. Harry shut his eyes and listened to the words that reached his ringing ears.

"I'll go get some tea," said Amelia.

"No, he knows you, Amelia, not me. So you should stay. I'll manage."

The dull pain of the scar stayed with him. He opened his eyes and saw Mrs. Figg, smiling sadly down at him. He tried to smile back, but the tears entered his eyes again. He closed his eyes quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment at falling asleep and having a dream that would make him cry in front of the woman.

"Harry? It's okay. I understand everything now. Everything…"

After a long silence, Harry opened his eyes and saw the woman who had been part of his torment for the past week. "How could you possibly know what I've been through, Mrs. Figg?"

Suddenly another voice that sounded almost identical to Mrs. Figg's voice spoke, "Because I filled her in…." The owner of the second voice came into view. She put down a tray with a silver tea set on it. "Come on. Up you get. This tea should do you good."

Harry looked back and forth between the two women, wondering if he was once again seeing double. "No, Harry, you're not seeing double," said the woman that had just come into view. He sat up. "How did I get in here?" he muttered after realizing that he was now in the living room.

"I levitated you onto the couch and made you more comfortable, when I saw that you were asleep," said Arabella as she handed him a cup of tea. "Drink up now."

Harry sipped the tea and instantly felt a warmth come over him, as Arabella began to explain away some of his confusion. "I am Mrs. Figg's identical twin sister, Arabella. I'm part of the world that you are, I'm sure, eager to get back to, despite the adversity that you know that you will find there when you get back. I'm a witch, where my sister here was a squib, in the past, but now she's not really. Though that is a story for another time. All that you really need to know is that, because she thought it would be easier to live in the Muggle world, she virtually isolated herself from the Wizarding world. So she did not know truly who you are, until now. I've filled her in on what I know."

"Oh," said Harry, very obviously still confused about something. How could Mrs. Figg be a squib and Arabella be a proper witch? he thought. Then he remembered about how Parvarti and Padma Patil, twin sisters in Harry's year, where in different houses. Parvarti was in his own house, Gryffindor, and Padma was in Ravenclaw. He figured that since they were so different, then it was possible for Mrs. Figg and Arabella to be very different too.

Harry looked at Mrs. Figg, giving her the only smile he could through his painful emotions, a small sad one. She had tears shining in her eyes. "Harry, can you ever forgive me for treating you so harshly, especially in this past week?"

Harry nodded. Mrs. Figg pulled him into a warm hug that reminded him of the hug that he had gotten from Mrs. Weasley just after the third task almost a month and a half ago. He felt all of the emotions that had been haunting his dreams plow through to the front of his mind. He heard an unseemly cry that he realized was, surprisingly, coming from him. Mrs. Figg held him tight and rocked him. "That's right. Let it all out."

Thoughts of misplaced guilt ran through his mind. Arabella came over to him and rubbed his back, muttering soothing words in his ear. They sat like that for about a half an hour before Harry broke the embrace. He tried to hide his puffy face from Mrs. Figg. "I- I'm so sorry, Mrs. Figg. I-I should be cleaning for you. I didn't mean to dump all of my feelings on you…." Though he had to admit to himself he did feel a lot better.

"Harry, don't you ever apologize for your feelings. You have obviously needed to do that for quite some time. And if I'm correct, and I think I am, you have never been able to do that with your aunt. Right?"

Harry nodded, eyes still downcast.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes the best thing to do is just cry like that. I know that this may be hard for you to believe, but it can give you strength." Harry looked up and saw the earnest in Mrs. Figg's eyes. For the first time in almost a month and a half he truly smiled and felt that it was genuine.

"Thank you, Mrs. Figg and Mrs.…?" He looked questioningly at Arabella.

"Oh, just call me Arabella, Harry. Because I too am Mrs. Figg and it would just be confusing to have you call us both that."

"Okay, Arabella. But sometime you're going to have to explain to me how you are twins and both Mrs. Figgs." Arabella and Amelia laughed. Harry soon joined in.

"Mrs. Figg…?" said Harry as his laughter subsided.

"Harry, if you're going to call my sister by her name, you might as well call me by mine. I'm Amelia."

"Okay. Amelia… erm… what is it that you need me to do today? I mean I know that half the day is gone, but I did come here to work and…"

"Oh, that's okay. You don't have to do any more work here, young man." Harry's face fell. "Why the long face? You are still going to come here everyday."

"But… but…. If I don't work then how will I earn the money that you're paying my aunt for me to work here?"

"I think you have done quite enough work in your life, thank you. You are now going to earn your keep by coming here to have fun."

"But what about your leg? I thought you needed to have help around here."

"I'll manage. Besides my wonderful sister here helped the old bones to get better." She stood up and walked around the room, showing that there was no longer a problem with her leg. Harry broke into a huge smile. He was very glad to see that Amelia was feeling better.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Then Amelia asked, "Well, Harry, knowing what you had for breakfast this morning, I'm sure that you are very hungry right now. So what would you like to eat?"

As soon as food was mentioned, Harry's stomach rumbled in response to Amelia's statement. Harry had a funny look on his face, "Erm… Anything but cooked cabbage…?" said Harry hopefully with a sheepish smile on his face, expecting Mrs. Figg to be upset.

At first she seemed like she might get cross with him, but she was not upset at all. Instead she laughed heartily at the comment. Arabella soon joined in. Harry looked on to the scene with confusion, but began to chuckle to after a few moments. "I'm sorry, Harry. I guess what you need to understand about that smell is that every now and then I… well…. I guess that even with my back turned on your world I was still trying to keep up with it slightly. The only thing that I had been even remotely good at was Potions. Every now and then I've tried to see if I could design a potion to help increase my abilities and strength as a witch. Because I knew that someday I wanted to reunite with my sister. And I guess I really should thank you because you were the one to make that happen. But….

"The reason that you were smelling cabbage was that it was a key ingredient in the potion. I guess I forgot what kind of stench that could leave behind. I must say that I have grown a bit immune to the smell, as I have worked on the potion often enough to do so." Amelia chuckled and smiled docilely. Harry laughed, now understanding what was so funny before.

Amelia went to the kitchen. Arabella and Harry followed. Together they made a nice lunch, which they took out to the back garden and ate. As they ate, they talked about a lot of things in the wizarding world, as Amelia wanted to catch up with everything that she had missed over the years. The conversation soon turned to the subject that Amelia wanted to hear about most: Quidditch. It had been her favorite thing back when she had attended Hogwarts. It was the one thing that Amelia was sad to leave behind, because none of the Muggle sports even came close to matching the intensity and excitement of Quidditch in her view.

Quidditch was the sport played by wizards, where there are two teams of seven players on broomsticks. Two of each team were Beaters that hit the wild balls, called Bludgers, that flew straight at people, trying to knock them off their brooms. Three each were Chasers that threw the largest ball, the Quaffle, back and forth until they got it to the opponents end of the field where they tried to get it past the Keeper guarding three large hoops high above the ground. The last player was the one that needed to be the fastest and most flexible, the Seeker. The Seeker had the job of trying to find the Snitch, a tiny golden ball with wings that flew fast and was, in the words of Harry's old team captain, Oliver Wood, "Damn near impossible to see". Harry, himself, was the Seeker of the Gryffindor house team.

They talked for a long time, until the light started to fade in the sky. "Well, Harry it looks as though it is time for you to go home." Harry groaned quietly. "But just remember you have to come back tomorrow. My sister and I have much to discuss. So come on. Off you go. We expect to see you here bright and early tomorrow morning, young man," said Amelia as she walked him to her door. She gave him a final warm hug before he left.

Harry started walking back the short distance to the house where he was forced to dwell. As he walked, he suddenly got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. He stopped and listened to the sounds around him. The only sounds that emerged were the rustle of the leaves in the trees by a gentle wind. Harry resumed his walk, but the sensation turned from a prickle to a shiver. He stopped again, turning around this time.

He glanced around, high and low, knowing that if someone were following him they could be any shape or size. When he didn't see anything in the receding light, he made a run for it, hoping that whatever was following him wouldn't be able to keep up with his quick Quidditch reflexes. When he got to the door of the house that he had been staying in for the past month, he opened the door quickly and slammed it behind him.

Harry leaned against the door to catch his breath and the dull pain in his scar increased slightly. He rubbed his scar as his uncle emerged from the kitchen.

"What is the meaning of slamming the door, boy?" he said with his eyes narrowing dangerously at him. "You know better than that. We work hard to keep this house over your head. We do not need you to bring it down around us. Now go to your room. You will not be getting any dinner tonight, or any night for that matter, until you can learn to respect what we have given you!"

As Uncle Vernon was yelling at Harry, with Dudley looking on and laughing in the background of course, the pain in Harry's scar had increased steadily. His uncle's yelling wasn't helping the pain any either. By the time that Uncle Vernon had finished yelling the pain was so unbearable that it almost brought Harry to his knees. Dudley, of course, mistook the pained look on Harry's face, thinking that Harry was about to cry. So he laughed harder and came out from the kitchen, openly taunting him.

"What's a matter, Harry? Are you gonna cry now that you have been banished to your room without any supper?"

Uncle Vernon smirked at the comment realizing for the first time the look on Harry's face. "I told you to go to your room, boy. I suggest that you go there now."

The words of both his uncle and his cousin were swirling in his head with the dizzying pain that was making his head feel like it was about to split open. He cursed himself for having this moment of weakness in front of his relatives, as they could not possibly understand what was going on with him. As he tried to turn and climb the stairs, wanting to get away to the privacy of his room, he felt the darkness at the edges of his consciousness close in on him.

As Uncle Vernon and Dudley stood there laughing at the look on Harry's face, thinking him to burst into tears at any moment, Aunt Petunia peered around the corner to see what her son and husband were laughing at. She watched as the anguished face of her horrible nephew turned toward the stairs. She too laughed, as he stumbled part way up the stairs. He got halfway up the stairs, his hand went to the center of his forehead, where his scar sat, and collapsed. Petunia and Vernon stopped laughing, realizing that he had passed out. Dudley stopped laughing shortly after that, owing to the fact that he no longer heard the laughter of his parents anymore. Vernon and Petunia shared a look, as Dudley looked back and forth between them.

"What?" asked Dudley.

"Vernon…."

"I know, Petunia. I guess we had better inform that Dumblydorf fellow at…."

"Yes," Petunia hissed. "You take him up and I'll write that letter," she sneered.

"What… what letter? What's going on? Mummy, tell me!"

"We will explain it later, Dudders. But right now Mummy and Daddy have something we need to do. Oh, and Vernon… don't forget to bring that-that thing," she said disgusted.

Vernon nodded and pulled his thin and light nephew the rest of the way up the stairs and into his room, bumping his head on every stair. He picked him up and dropped him onto his bed. Vernon went over to the cage that sat on Harry's bureau. He was trying to figure out what to do and how to pick it up with out really having to touch the thing.

Hedwig opened her eyes and shrieked. She was not too happy with the eyes that were peering back at her. She had known that the person that owned those eyes held nothing but contempt for her in the past. She looked right at the man on the other side of the bars. He opened the cage door and started reaching in the cage, cautiously. She went to peck at him and he withdrew his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had gotten part of the way up the stairs before his entire world was spinning out of control and felt as if he were falling. He couldn't see anything, but he was trying unsuccessfully to move. He was trying to clear his head enough to think about where he was and what was going on, but the pain in his head was excruciating. He remembered clutching his head before hitting something hard. He thought that he could hear voices, but he couldn't make out the words.

He tried to open his eyes to see where the voices were coming from, but it felt like someone had glued his eyes shut. He felt himself moving and then falling. The next thing he remembered was hearing Hedwig screech and squawk as if in terrible trouble. He tried again to open his eyes, this time succeeding. He groaned out loud at the awful pain that still remained in his scar.

Uncle Vernon hearing the groan and struggling to try to get the owl out of the cage without being bitten pulled his arm out of the cage and slammed it shut. Then he turned on his nephew, who was sitting up slowly and clutching at the scar on his head. "Would you please help me get this bloody bird out of its cage?"

"Why?" croaked Harry.

"Because that bizarre Dumblderm fellow, the headmaster to your freakish school, told me to write to him if you were to ever collapse in front of me, due to pain in your ruddy scar. He told me to use this-this blasted animal to send him the message."

"His name is Dumbledore and I can write to him for you…"

"No! I was told to do it and if I don't then he might come here and ask why I didn't. No, no. I will write it. No, you will not write him. I would rather use your ruddy bird then have to see that-that wayward man face to face." Uncle Vernon seemed to pale slightly and shudder at the prospect of seeing the very powerful man.

Harry got up gingerly and stumbled over to the cage. He soothed Hedwig and said, "I know that you don't like this, girl. But please do this for me…." He patted down her ruffled up feathers. She slowly calmed down and hopped out of the cage. "Go downstairs with my Uncle Vernon now, girl. It'll be all right. Just be patient with them. Take the message they give you to Dumbledore." She hooted, nipped his finger lovingly, and spread her wings and soared out of the room, giving Uncle Vernon what appeared to be an evil look. As she left the room there was a screech that obviously emitted from Dudley, who had sneaked up to just outside Harry's room just to see if he could find out anything that was going on.

That was the last sound that Harry heard, having used all of his remaining strength to help out his owl. Vernon again put his nephew onto the bed and went back downstairs. When Vernon entered the kitchen, Hedwig was sitting on the top of the chair as far away from Petunia as possible. Petunia and Hedwig were staring at each other.

Petunia got up without taking her eyes off of the bird. "Vernon, here. Give this to that foul creature so that it can leave." Hedwig's feathers puffed irritably. Again her eyes seem to be narrowing dangerously, this time at Petunia. Vernon took the letter and tried handing it to Hedwig from, at least, an arm's length away from her.

Hedwig stuck out her foot. Vernon saw a string that was hanging off of her foot. He cautiously approached and, staying at an arm's length away, tied the letter to Hedwig's ankle. As soon as the letter was tied to her, she took flight.

Vernon yelled, "Quick, Petunia! Open a bloody window so that the thing can leave!"

Outside on the edge of the street sat a rat, unnoticed by the passing owl. The rat watched, cowering in the shadow, as the bird flew right by him and notice that it had something tied to its foot. Now if I could just figure out where that bird came from…thought the rat, for this was no ordinary rat. He was in fact an Animagus, a wizard that could transform into an animal at will. Normally Animagi were registered with the Ministry of Magic, owing to the fact that it was very difficult and dangerous magic that could go horribly wrong. But this particular Animagus was not registered and even more difficult to track.

This was very unfortunate because he was one of the main followers of the Dark Lord himself. In fact he had facilitated Voldemort's return just about over a month and half ago. If you had looked on its right paw before the night of Voldemort's return, you would have seen one of its toes was missing. Now however there was a funny looking metallic paw sitting at the end of his right front paw that clicked quietly when it hit the ground. This was one Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail to those who knew him well.

Wormtail transformed back into the short little man with a pointed nose and beady eyes, before he walked up Privet Drive. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but he knew that this was the area that Potter must live in. This was near the place where Malfoy and Crabbe had been discussing the planned raid on the Weasley's home, which had been unsuccessful due to Potter's warning to them.

He had seen Potter through the window before the Weasley children had disappeared. The raid had failed and he had paid dearly for that. He was determined to find where Potter dwelt, so that he could get back into his Lord's good graces. Lucius Malfoy had not even gotten so much as a scratch when he reported that Potter must have overheard them talking and that was how the Weasley's knew about their raid.

The Dark Lord had actually praised Malfoy for getting Potter where he could possibly have gotten his hands on the boy again. But he punished Wormtail for not getting there soon enough to capture Harry Potter and the others.

Wormtail bitterly looked up and down the street. He walked it several times to see if anything could give him a sign of where Potter lived, but to no avail. He wished at that moment that he had been faster earlier when he was following Potter home, but Potter seemed to know that he was there watching him.

He made the decision right there and then that he would continue to prowl the street every night until he found something… anything to signify where Potter lived.