A.N. I read the 5th book in ten hours. And I bawled! Actually, I kind of ruined the book for myself, and skipped ahead to see who died. And I bawled some more. It was shocking, and I feel so bad for Harry! I'm going to continue with this story, because I luv Sirius, and I think that he and Harry should've had more time together *tear *. Also, I have 2 new ideas for stories, that I have been developing. One is an AU and the other is a 6th year story.

Anyway, the 5th book gave me a whole bunch more material to add to this story, so here we go! Hope to see them up soon!

Mal

The next few days with Uncle Carrison were very weird. Carrison was constantly picking up random objects and showing them to Harry, telling him some odd story about it. He had the largest collection of teakettles that Harry had ever seen. He had even more than a French lady that Harry had once had for a neighbor.

He did, however, help Harry with his magic. Harry had been having trouble with Transfiguring things into electric objects. They usually ended up with a tail instead of an extension chord. Carrison, with flare and excitement, eagerly taught Harry everything he knew about the subject, and then proceeded to turn his teakettles into toasters.

Carrison was very stubborn about what Harry ate, claiming that after having an allergic reaction like that, Harry had to eat lots of beets and radishes. Harry persuaded him to buy a box of Cheerios.

Sirius didn't make any contact with Harry for nearly a week. Harry awoke on the couch one morning, Wilbur still asleep at the other end, only to find Sirius' head floating in the fireplace, talking avidly with Carrison.

"-Going to be staying with Sandy for a little while. At least Harry will be able to play with Cam for a bit. Then we'll have to move someplace we've already been… doubt he'll look there."

"Best hope he doesn't go to the Ministry," Carrison said. "They'll be swarming everywhere."

"Of course he won't. That'll lead to too many questions. Perhaps we'll just return to England. He might not suspect that."

"Sirius?" Harry said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Harry!" Sirius said, changing his expression from one of worry to one of gladness. "Good to see you up!"

"Are you coming back soon?" Harry asked, scratching Wilbur behind the ear and awaking the pig.

"Tomorrow. Is that soon enough?"

"Yep!"

"Great! Start packing, tomorrow we'll go to Sandy and Cam's house."

"Yeah!"

"Harry," Carrison said. "Why don't you go get yourself some breakfast. There's some water on the stove for tea."

Harry nodded and left, Wilbur following behind him, begging for food.

Harry made as much noise as was possible while preparing the meals. He could still hear what the two men were saying, but he didn't want it to make it seem like he was eavesdropping.

"There have been… reports, Carrison," Sirius said slowly.

"Reports of what? Budget reports? Chocolate Reports? You're going to have to be more specific, Sirius my boy."

"Reports of odd happenings… You know what I mean."

"…Oh. What sort of happenings."

"From what I've heard, which has only been gossip, not very credible, that there has been dark wizard activity."

Harry nearly dropped the Cheerio box at that point. Sirius had shared most of what he knew about Dark Wizards to Harry, and had even quizzed him for History of Magic. Harry had just never thought that he would be hearing about them now. He had gotten rid of Voldemort, and he couldn't just come back… could he? Harry stopped making so much noise, and listened intently.

"They're probably just rumors," Carrison replied, his voice wavering slightly.

"I know… Is Harry alright?" Sirius asked. "I mean, the longest he's been away from me was during a sleep over. Never this long."

"He's fine. The boy is very self efficient."

"Yeah, I know. You'd be the first person to really say that he isn't."

"Very bright too."

"Yes. I'm surprised he's gotten this far so fast. He only started learning magic when he was 5."

"Very interested in teakettles too."

Harry snorted lightly. Carrison thought everyone was interested in teakettles.

Harry picked up his bowl of cereal and walked back out into the living room. Sirius and Carrison instantly changed the subject.

"Puddlemere is looking great. The team has completely changed since I last saw it."

"Yes, their offensive is really quite spectacular."

"Sirius?" Harry spoke up. "What time are you going to get me."

"Really quite early, around five," Sirius said. "Carrison, you'll wake him in time?"

"Of course I will."

However, Harry was the one to wake up Carrison the next day. The old man grumbled about how dark it was outside and promptly started making tea. Harry had been packed all night, all of his things properly shrunk and in their boxes. Wilbur had been brushed and was wearing his collar. At ten past five, Sirius walked into the house, a broomstick over his shoulder, and a newspaper under his arm.

"Come on," Sirius said swiftly. "We have a portkey leaving. We're going to Sandy and Cameron's." Harry said a swift goodbye to Carrison, who tried to give him a teakettle, before Sirius and Harry disappeared.

~*~

Albus Dumbledore was waiting patiently in his office, his fingers intertwined and resting on his desk as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. He was waiting, waiting for two very special guests. One was an old friend of his, and the other was the possible future savior of the world.

There was a sharp knock on the door, which instantly opened to reveal two figures standing there.

"Wanda, how wonderful to see you," Dumbledore said, instantly standing up and gliding over to the elderly witch. Dumbledore looked kindly down at the young boy who was staring nervously up at the headmaster. "And how are you Neville?"

"Q-quite well," Neville managed to stutter out.

"Neville, don't stutter," his grandmother snapped. Neville only nodded and lowered his eyes slightly.

"Neville," Dumbledore said, smiling down at the rounded boy. "Why don't you and Fawkes take a little jaunt around the castle." Dumbledore motioned to the beautiful bird, which was looking questioningly at the new arrivals. Neville looked terrified at the thought, and even more so when the bird took off, flying out the open doors. Mrs. Longbottom dismissed her grandson and then rolled her eyes as Neville tripped on the rug.

"Clumsy little boy," Mrs. Longbottom said disdainfully, while sitting down in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah, I remember I was quite clumsy when I was young Neville's age," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I once knocked over 16 suits of armor while taking a little jaunt around the family manor. They went over just like Dominoes."

Mrs. Longbottom just stared blankly. Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Now Wanda, I have called you here to tell you some very important information concerning your godson."

Mrs. Longbottom snorted. "I don't know what happened with that boy. Honestly, he only started showing his magic a little while ago. His father started showing his magic when he was three. Three! And Neville started when he was eight. Eight! I don't know how he'll be able to survive at Hogwarts."

At that, Mrs. Longbottom eyed Dumbledore questioningly, as though expecting him to say something about the matter. Dumbledore however just held out a jar of candy and offered her some. Mrs. Longbottom sniffed and said, "No thank you."

"Wanda," Dumbledore said, suddenly growing serious, looking over his half-moon glasses at the woman. "In all seriousness, we must discuss Neville's future."

"Quite right," Wanda said, conjuring up a cup of tea for herself and sitting rather stiffly in her chair. "Do you think he'll be able to take all of the classes, or will he only be allowed to take the ones that he won't cause catastrophic accidents in?"

"Actually, I wish to talk about Neville's past, as well as his future," Dumbledore said sternly.

Mrs. Longbottom nodded and took another sip. "About 9 years ago a prophecy was made…"

"Oh yes, I overheard my son and Alice talking about that once…" Mrs. Longbottom said. "Then they stopped talking as they saw me eavesdropping."

"Yes, quite," Dumbledore said. "I am now going to show you what this prophecy said…"

Dumbledore walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a large basin, which he set on his desk, between the two of them. He pulled out his wand and placed it to his temple, before pulling out what looked like a silver strand of hair and putting it into the large basin, which was already filled with what looked like a mixture of silvery gas and liquid. He then prodded that substance, and a figure rose from it. She was a bespectacled woman, covered and shawls and revolving slowly. Then she began to speak…

A minute later the figure sank back into the basin. Mrs. Longbottom was sitting stiffly with her hand over her mouth. Dumbledore was staring at her over his half moon glasses, his fingers intertwined on his desk again.

"Wanda-" Dumbledore began.

"That woman…" Mrs. Longbottom. "She was speaking of the Potter boy-" She looked at Dumbledore, pleading with her eyes. "-Right?"

"We believed that she was… however, due to young Harry Potter's murder 7 or so years ago, we have reason to rethink the prophecy."

"You mean-"

"Because the Potter boy is dead, we have reason to believe that Neville is actually the wizard that was spoken of."

Mrs. Longbottom pursed her lips and glared inquisitively at Dumbledore.

"So, you believe that my Neville is going to have to fight You-Know-Who, and attempt to defeat him?"

"Yes."

"My Neville."

"Yes."

Mrs. Longbottom continued to glare before she took a sip of her tea and sighed. In a slow, warm voice Dumbledore continued, "Neville must grow up as a normal child. He will receive normal schooling until such a time calls for it. I have faith that Neville will be able to summon the strength to get over this obstacle."

"Are you…. Quite sure that my Neville is who they spoke of in this prophecy?" Mrs. Longbottom asked. "Couldn't it be some other boy?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "It would take a miracle for it to be some other boy."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Harry Potter was drifting off to sleep in a sleeping bag in Sandy Dungerfeild's living room.