Chapter One- The day was dry and hot, the once neat, trim green yards were now parched and thirsty for rain. The empty street's pavement was hot; so hot that heat waves were emitting from the ground. The flowers had wilted long ago in their previously manicured gardens, looking droopy and forlorn as the sun beat unmercifully down upon their dying blooms. All in all - it was a miserable day. A solitary figure was walking down the street just as the sun went down over the horizon. It was a boy who was tall and skinny with jet black hair and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He looked more of a delinquent than he did a "normal person" as certain stuffy neighbors might've said. Harry Potter was his name, and right now he was trudging along the deserted street titled Privet Drive, heading back to where he lived. The neighbors had all retreated into the houses, air conditionings turned up full blast leaving Harry to walk along in peace. Usually he was glared at through certain net curtains or else run from by the younger children. He was known as a rebel in a sense, as everyone thought he attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, not knowing he really attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only the miserable Dursleys knew he was a wizard. Everyone else just thought he was a scraggly tramp who ought to be punished for his scruffiness. He continued down the street, stopping just outside number four at the driveway's end. He looked up at the neat house, despising every inch of it and especially the people within. He heaved a sigh and walked up the walkway, halting with his hand outstretched to the handle. It had, at that moment, been yanked open and the snarling face of his Uncle Vernon glared menacingly out at him. "Get in here, boy! Dudley has been home for at least fifteen minutes!" he snapped, watching Harry beadily. Harry scowled, walking past his uncle with a mere grunt to show he'd heard. Uncle Vernon glared threateningly at his back but made no further comments and went into the living room where Aunt Petunia was watching the news. He shuffled up the stairs, careful to listen so that he wouldn't be interrupted by Dudley. Unfortunately, however, Dudley came lumbering into the hall moments after Harry had reached the top step. Dudley (being the size of about four of Harry himself) grinned while he blew a bubble with the bubble gum he had no doubt stolen from a child. "You're in trouble now." Dudley sneered, blowing a bubble and letting it pop loudly. "Dad's said you're going to be locked in that cupboard again like before you went to that freak school."

Harry made a face and walked resolutely past him, determined not to make trouble. His uncle was already cross with him and it wouldn't help his case if Dudley were to call Uncle Vernon in saying Harry had threatened him. Dudley watched after him, blowing then popping bubbles every few seconds before Harry heard the faint 'fwump, fwump' sound that meant his cousin was heading downstairs. Harry flopped on his bed, releasing yet another sigh. So here he was, stuck on Privet Drive again. How much longer would he have to endure this until he got to go back to number twelve, Grimmauld Place? He wasn't even sure he did want to go back there, as it had been Sirius's home, and going back meant he might possibly have to come face-to-face with Kreacher, the dirty house elf who had betrayed Sirius and had been a key factor to his death. Harry didn't think he would be able to stop himself leaping on Kreacher with every intent of killing him if he set foot in that house again. But there at least he could find some comfort. Here he had no one except Hedwig, and after awhile even she became a bit dull, as she was an owl. At the moment she was off delivering a letter, and most likely would return with a dead mouse or frog clamped tightly in her beak. The bones and small animal entrails littered the floor of his already messy room. His room had not been thoroughly cleaned in quite some time, as he had never quite had enough inspiration to clean it, keeping it just barely clean enough for human habitation. He shuffled miserably over to the window, gazing outside at the scorched lawns and grizzly gardens. He then became suddenly tired and fell back onto his bed, his eyelids failing to stay open and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, his last thoughts on Sirius, and how he so longed for him to come back.