Disclaimer: Obviously, I didn't write the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rowling is responsible for those masterpieces, and I will always worship her for it. Please don't sue me. I'm already poor and all you'd get from me is a fifteen year-old TV, a futon and some clothes that fit me better than you. The only way you would get my computer is by prying it from my cold, dead fingers.

A/N: Sorry if I'm confusing anybody, but I wasn't very satisfied with my update yesterday (at all). I rearranged a few things, wrote a little more, and turned it into a new, if shorter, chapter. If you already read chapter 12, I put a big space at the part where the new material that you haven't read begins. (Hope you understood that…) Anyway, sorry for the inconvenience. I have a reason for doing this, however, so you'll just have to trust me.

Thanks to everybody that reviewed already:

Ootp-rules—Wow! A long review! Oh, if you knew how I cherish those…Okay, first off: Thanks for all the wonderful compliments and advice. Your suggestions on naming spells and blending Latin and English will be very helpful, especially in upcoming chapters. Also, what you said about the language use was eye-opening for me. I never really thought about how much Harry's insecurity is reflected in his speech, but looking back at the books (and your review) I see that now. I'll also have to remember to use "suppose" rather than "guess". It does sound more eloquent and more British. It's funny; some people tell me I'm a pretty decent writer—if only they could hear how I speak everyday…most of the time I don't even use proper grammar. Anyway, congratulations on completing your finals! I know that feeling; lucky for me, mine were over at the beginning of May. I still shiver when I think back on them, though. Also, like I said in the author's note above, this chapter is really my attempt to even out and correct the ending to chapter 12 than a whole new chapter, so don't get too excited. Just wanted to warn you. The new part that you haven't read is really only about 2,000 words long. Thanks again for your help!

Heala—Since I'm similar to J.K. Rowling in that I don't like to give straight answers concerning my story, all I will say is you may have a special treat very soon. Thanks for reading!

DeathWynd—I'm going to go out on a limb here and hope that I don't lose readers for what I'm about to say, but…(leaning over to whisper discreetly in your ear)…I feel the exact same way as you about dear Professor Snape. I can't stand the greasy git; I think he's an immature, cruel old Scrooge. However, I try not to abuse my power as an author by making all the characters feel the same way I do.

Huskerinexile—Glad you like the story. As for Heather, she may have first been drawn to Harry because of his "bad boy" image, but she got to know him better after the time they spent together. It's understandable that she hasn't grown on you; she is a very strange girl, after all, and I don't know that I've given you reason enough to like her yet. Tom will definitely be back, as will the French toast, even though it makes me hungry to write those scenes…

LunaLovegood—Hopefully I will learn some Latin too! The dream was very fun to write; glad you enjoyed it!

Elizabeth Goode—Thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Jbfritz—Thanks; will do!

Melrick—Sounds like you and I do our searches the same way. I'm usually not a fan of romance fics (when it is centered around the romance), but I do enjoy a fic with a good plot and a side of romance. That's actually what I have planned for the sequel to this one that will take place in the school year. Unfortunately, I don't think I should say what the pairing will be yet—don't want to give away the secret! Generally, I like H/Hr, H/OC, and H/G, but only when they are done very well. Otherwise, I'd rather just avoid romance altogether.

Okay, that's all for now. If you are very upset with my changing the chapters around, I apologize and you can berate me in a review!

Chapter 13: Karma

A sharp peck on his earlobe roused Harry from the best dream he could remember having in a long while. He groaned and glanced at his alarm clock, reading 12:31 p.m. After staying up for over thirty hours straight learning Occlumency, he decided he deserved to sleep late. He buried his head back into the pillow and willed himself to go back to sleep and continue his wonderful dream. Hedwig seemed to disagree with his plan; she was flapping noisily around the room, hooting her annoyance and trying her best to keep him awake.

"Wha' d' you want?" he moaned, not even opening his eyes.

Then he heard the clang of something bouncing off his window pane. "Harry!" came a loud whisper from outside.

"Go 'way," he mumbled ineffectively.

More pebbles bounced off the window. "Harry, you prat! Wake up and get out here!" the voice said, in a quiet sort of laugh.

"Gaah, WHY?" Harry whined, stumbling lazily out of bed and to the window. Squinting in the light streaming through it, he looked down and saw Heather smiling broadly at him.

"Nice pajamas!" she joked, giggling.

"I'll be down in a minute," he answered, ignoring the jibe.

Another new outfit had mysteriously appeared at his bedroom door at some point the day before, and Harry gratefully tugged it on. Heather always seemed to be wearing the latest styles, and he always felt like a slob wearing Dudley's gigantic hand-me-downs in her presence. The clothes Aunt Petunia had been leaving for him were bland and far from 'cool', but they fit and bore no holes so Harry wasn't about to complain.

When he came downstairs, his aunt was in the kitchen, peering through the curtains and sneering nastily at something—most likely Heather. She jumped back and pretended to be scrubbing the counter when he stomped loudly to the front door.

"'Bout time, your aunt was beginning to freak me out a bit," Heather said when he joined her in the yard.

"I've lived with her for fifteen years and she still manages to freak me out from time to time," he replied.

On the way to her house, Heather badgered him about not coming by to see her the day before. When he 'explained' that the Dursleys had grounded him for not doing his chores, however, she was sympathetic and went off on a tangent about the various reasons she had been grounded for in the past.

"…then there was the time I snuck out to get that tattoo when I told Mum I was over at my friend Anne's house. Would've gotten away with it too, but my mum called her mum and her mum threatened to take away the phone in her room if she didn't tell my mum where I went—to make a long story slightly less long, it ends with Mum barging into the tattoo parlor screaming bloody murder and dragging me out by my hair," she paused a moment with a nostalgic look on her face. "And to think the needle was hovering just a centimeter from my arm…I nearly got away with it."

Not quite understanding why she would want to be poked repeatedly in the arm with a very sharp object just to have a picture painted permanently on her skin, Harry did as he often found himself forced to do when around Heather—played along.

"That's…too bad. What kind of tattoo were you going to get?"

She sighed. "A butterfly. Actually, I'm kind of glad I didn't now; it seems like every girl I meet has a butterfly tattoo."

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied blankly. He really didn't know any girls—or boys, for that matter—with any tattoos at all. Maybe they're only popular in muggle culture.

"Well, anyway, I also got grounded not too long ago for taking my Dad's car out for a drive after midnight when he told me not to. Wait, that was only last week…Come to think of it, I think I'm still supposed to be grounded," she mused, tapping her chin.

…

It was such a beautiful, sunny day that they spent the entire afternoon outside. Mrs. Gaines brought them sandwiches and lemonade for lunch, smiling gloriously at Harry and patting his head as she walked past. The Gaines' had a small swimming pool, and Heather forced him to borrow swimming trunks and take a dip with her. At first he had been very self-conscious, but had to give in as the temperature was ninety-five degrees and the sparkling pool looked so inviting. He was a little disturbed to find that the trunks belonged to Justin and decided not to ask why she had them at her house. Maybe he could ask Justin himself in September, though…

Harry was happy to spend the day at Heather's house. She was a little spacy and very girlish, but she had her moments. Heather didn't judge him by his neighborhood reputation, or treat him like some sort of boy-hero, or push him to talk about things he didn't want to. She was simply happy for the company, and so was he. They passed the time talking about their friends, family, jokes they heard, muggle movies (most of which Harry hadn't even heard of)—everything and nothing. The hours Harry spent with Heather were hours that he wasn't reminded of Voldemort, his responsibilities and expectations, or all that he had lost or might lose in his life.

The evening was only fractionally cooler than the weather had been earlier in the day. Still wearing only their swimsuits, the two laid facing each other on the large hammock in the backyard watching the setting sun. For once, Heather seemed to have run out of things to say.

They could hear Mr. and Mrs. Gaines arguing about something in the kitchen. After awhile, Harry realized they were talking about him—Mr. Gaines suspiciously questioning his intentions with his daughter, and Mrs. Gaines defending his honor. Just when it seemed Mrs. Gaines had gotten the upper hand, her father's gruff voice called out from the house for Heather to come inside before it got dark.

Heather rolled her eyes and was about to shout back, but Harry signaled for her to drop it. "Probably time I headed back anyway," he said.

He tugged his t-shirt back over his head, but didn't change out of the swimming trunks as Heather told him he could keep them until Justin noticed they were missing. The only thing she asked in return was that he come back to swim the next day. Mrs. Gaines gave him another sweet smile and tried to talk him into staying for tea and a snack, which he politely turned down seven times before she let him leave the house.

Remus caught him on his way back to the Dursleys' and gave him the update on wizarding world news. There were still no attacks on wizards, although suspected muggle casualties were growing. Several more families in and around Surrey had been attacked, and the Order was becoming more concerned about the Death Eaters patrolling the edges of the wards on Privet Drive.

"Everyone who guards you now carries an emergency portkey," Remus explained. "Now don't take this the wrong way, because Dumbledore assures us that you are still perfectly safe, but it Voldemort somehow finds a way through the wards, we'll be able to get you out in a flash."

"What about all the other people that live here? Who's going to help them?" Harry asked.

"They'll have the Order and Aurors apparating all over the place to capture the Death Eaters. Keep in mind that Voldemort is the one to blame for all the killing, Harry. It's not your fault he's targeted you, and we all know you'd do anything to keep others from getting hurt because of it. That does not, however, give you an excuse for not immediately using a portkey to get the hell out of here if something does happen."

Harry didn't respond. If the wards fell, he probably wouldn't have a choice anyway. Either Voldemort would get him first or his guard du jour would portkey him to Grimmauld Place quicker than you could say "Mosmordre".

"The chances of anyone breaking through Dumbledore's wards are extremely slim. Besides, there are only a few more weeks before you come to stay with me, anyway. Oh, speaking of which, what color would you like your room to be?"

Harry grinned. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Right then, Gryffindor colors."

They chatted amiably about summer plans and the house all the way back to the Dursleys. Remus told him that he would be working on finishing up the house for the next few weeks and would not be guarding him again until the last week of June, so Tonks would be picking up a lot of his shifts. Before bidding him farewell, Remus gave him a fond look and an awkward pat on the back.

"See you in a few weeks, Harry. Don't give Tonks too much trouble."

"Don't worry, I will," he answered.

…

…

…

…

When Harry set foot back in Number Four, he found the house in mayhem. Uncle Vernon's face was a brilliant shade of puce as he shouted and spat into the phone, Aunt Petunia was bawling and pacing next to him, and Hedwig was hooting loudly upstairs. He supposed the best plan of action was to tiptoe up the stairs and eavesdrop unnoticed.

"MY SON WOULD NOT ATTACK ANOTHER BOY WITHOUT A GOOD REASON, ESPECIALLY ONE YOUNGER THAN HIM!" Vernon bellowed furiously.

He could hear his aunt pause between sobs to whisper suggestions to her husband. "Tell them that Dudders is a student at Smeltings. Oh, oh, and don't forget to let them know that he's also the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast!"

"Yes, dear," Vernon stressed with aggravation before repeating everything she said into the phone

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT, SIR? OF COURSE IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE—IT SHOWS THAT MY SON IS A DECENT YOUNG MAN. THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE HOLDING IS THE LITTLE WHELP WHO'S TRYING TO FRAME HIM!"

Petunia let loose another wail.

"NO, I WILL NOT STOP SHOUTING! NOT UNTIL YOU RELEASE MY SON AND GIVE ME THE NAME OF THIS SUPPOSED VICTIM SO I CAN HAVE A GOOD TALK WITH HIS PARENTS. PERSONALLY, I THINK YOU SHOULD LOOK INTO THE BOY'S HOME SITUATION," he lowered his voice and was apparently speaking to Petunia on the side, "The boy's parents are probably unemployed, no-good drug addicts, and the child's just looking for attention."

Mumbling her agreement, Aunt Petunia sniffled and blew her nose noisily.

"Yes, fine," Vernon growled, finally showing a bit of self-control. "My wife and I will be there as soon as possible," he growled, slamming the phone down.

"Wh—what did they say?" Petunia asked weakly.

Harry could hear keys jangling and pounding footsteps moving across the kitchen. "We have to go to the station to sort this out," his uncle replied gruffly. The footsteps stopped and a heavy sigh was heaved. "Don't fret, dear, Dudders is a strong, intelligent young man. He'll be just fine." Harry had to bite down on his knuckle to stifle his snickers. Dudley? Intelligent? Honestly, how thick could they be?

"I just don't understand!" Petunia cried in the midst of a fresh wave of sobs. "Our Duddiekins is a good boy. How could they do this to him?"

As the pair shuffled morosely out the door, Harry pinched his arm. Ouch. Definitely not dreaming. The front door clicked shut, and he waited for the engine to start before jumping to his feet and doing a victory dance. Between Snape and Dudley, karma was certainly making its rounds today.

A few sharp hoots and the sound of something crashing to the ground jerked him back to reality. Throwing open the door to his room, he saw Hedwig flapping around irately. Surveying the room, he saw why. In the window sat one of the most magnificent birds Harry had ever seen, watching him with a calm curiosity. Clutched in its talons was a thick roll of parchment.

Harry approached it slowly; the bird looked like some kind of falcon, and he had no clue who it belonged to. The colors of its glossy feathers ranged from soft grays to rich browns to shiny black. Its eyes were a piercing gold, lending it an unnaturally intelligent look for a bird. In fact, despite differences in size and coloring, its demeanor reminded him a lot of Fawkes.

The falcon held out the parchment as he got close, and he reached for it cautiously.

"Er…thanks," Harry said. The falcon cocked its head to the side inquisitively. When he finished unrolling the parchment, the beautiful bird hunched down, brought its strong, broad wings over its head, and sailed swiftly away into the night sky.

Dear Harry,

Hopefully this isn't the first letter you've gotten from me this summer. If you have no clue what I'm going on about, open your Occlumency book! Sorry, I don't mean to sound harsh, it's just that I'm so worried about you. The last thing I wanted to do this summer was be so far from home that I couldn't even owl you and Ron regularly, but the Order suggested it would be safer if my parents and I left the country for a bit while they improve the wards around our house.

At the moment, I am at an owlery in the wizarding sector of Hong Kong. It's quite fascinating; the term owlery just doesn't do it justice. There are all sorts of birds here. The one that delivered this letter is called a Gryfalcon. They are somewhat rare in Asia, but are well-suited for delivering letters over long distances because of their speed and endurance.

China is simply amazing. So far, it is the only part of the world I've seen where the wizards are more colorful than the muggles. They wear the most vibrant robes with various figures and magical creatures embroidered on them. I did see a spectacular muggle parade in Beijing last week, though, that could give the wizards a run for their money. There were people wearing the most outrageous costumes and makeup you'll ever see and huge, decorated, floats that looked surprisingly similar to real dragons (if you ignore the whiskers and coloring).

Today I saw a martial arts demonstration. You may think I'm slightly nutters for saying this, but I honestly think that these five black belts I watched in the demo could take down a small team of Death Eaters (or any wizards, for that matter) in seconds. Actually, it made me think that maybe we should add some sort of physical element to the D.A. When I count up all the times in the last few years that we've been caught without our wands, it makes me wonder why I didn't think of it sooner. I'm not saying we should forget spells and learn karate instead, but I think we could at least use some basic self-defense training. What do you think? You are still going to continue with the D.A., aren't you?

I was delighted to see Professor Lupin before I left, and even happier to hear that you wanted to borrow some books. I can't wait to tell Ron that I've finally turned you! We could really make him squirm by telling him this book-reading craze is contagious…Let me know if you need to borrow more. I hope the ones I lent you are working out, especially the Occlumency one. Remus had to buy that one himself since I didn't already own it.

How did your O.W.L. results turn out? I'm so angry; the Ministry is holding my results until I return from vacation. Can you believe they're making me wait another month to find out how I did? I've been trying not to think about it, but I can't help it; I'm so nervous…

I have to finish this up; my parents and I are off to see the Great Wall tomorrow, and we still have to find our hotel. There is so much more I wanted to say, but I would rather save it for when we have a chance to speak face-to-face. I know how tired you must be of hearing this, but please be careful! You know how much I worry about my test results, but believe me when I say that it is nothing compared to how much I worry about you. I will be back home July 23, and I hope to see you before King's Cross.

Love,

Hermione

Harry was glad to hear that Hermione was safe and enjoying herself. He tried to imagine her standing on the Great Wall, or watching a parade, but found that he couldn't. Aside from Privet Drive, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, and the wizarding villages, there were very few places he had spent enough time in to remember clearly. Maybe if he lived to graduate, defeat Voldemort, and make a life for himself, he could travel. That was a lot of maybes, but he supposed he'd really like to see more of the world someday.

…

Hedwig was still flustered from the intrusion of the Gryfalcon, but calmed down somewhat after several owl treats and ten minutes of Harry speaking to her softly and stroking her feathers. She cheered up more when he gave her new letters to deliver to Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. He wasn't sure if he'd ever understand why Hedwig so enjoyed having a job to do, but figured it was probably similar to the attitude house elves had toward their work.

Once she had left, Harry debated whether or not to wait up for the Dursleys. He was really interested in hearing what excuses Dudley could come up with for being caught bullying another boy. Unfortunately, he still hadn't caught up on all the sleep he had missed while learning Occlumency, and was already having trouble keeping his eyes open. He just barely remembered to clear his mind and steady his breathing before promptly falling asleep.

…