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Legal Copyright to all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel (the Series) belongs to 20th Century Fox Film Productions (and by extension News Corporation), Warner Brothers Film Production, UPN, Kazui Enterprises, Sandollar, Lazy Dave Productions and Mutant Enemy. I make no profits from the writing of or display of this fanfic.

Legal Copyright to all things Harry Potter belongs to 20th Century Fox Film Productions (and by extension News Corporation), J K Rowling and Bloomsbury Press. I make no profits from the writing of or display of this fanfic.

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Now that that's over, have fun, enjoy the fic and please don't forget to Read and Review. Love, Kennie :-D

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Harry Potter was an extremely unusual boy.  He was unusual in many ways, but one of the main ways in which he was unusual was that Harry Potter was a wizard.

It was the summer holidays and, as usual, Harry was staying with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.  They, and their son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives.  Muggles to the core, the Dursleys lived in terror of anyone discovering Harry's 'abnormality', and excused Harry's regular disappearances to his wizarding boarding school, Hogwarts, by telling people that he went to St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.  The Dursleys were adept at stretching the truth in this manner.  For years they had told Harry that his parents had died in a car crash and that the scar on his forehead, without a doubt the most unusual thing about Harry Potter, was a direct result of that crash.  It was only on Harry's eleventh birthday that Harry had learned the truth.

Harry's parents had been killed by a powerful dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, who had then attempted to kill Harry with the unblockable Adava Kedavra curse.  But Harry's mother had not died in vain, and Harry had survived the curse, which had rebounded on Voldemort, stripping him of his powers and almost killing him.  He had fled, and for thirteen years the wizarding world had been safe from terror.  But now Voldemort was back, and the protection that Harry's mother had died to give her son ran through his veins too.  For Voldemort had used Harry, in a terrifying ordeal, to bring himself back to power and now neither muggle, witch nor wizard was safe.

But right now, Harry wasn't thinking of any of these things.  He was feeling much like an ordinary boy.  For although the Dursley's had lightened Harry's chores considerably since he had told them of his godfather, Sirius, an escaped convict, (although Harry had conveniently forgotten to mention that Sirius was innocent!) he could still be found late one summer afternoon cleaning out the gutters by hand.  In a dramatic reversal of the wet and windy weather, so typical of an English summer, that had permeated the recent weeks, the day was fine and the back of Harry's neck was severely sunburnt.

With a sigh, Harry threw the last handful of mulch into the waiting bucket and descended the ladder before carefully putting all of the tools away.

It was with great satisfaction that Harry contemplated the next day, when he would be returning to Hogwarts.  For the first time since he had started at the school, he had been forced to spend an entire summer with his relatives and he had hated every day. To make matters worse, the woman who usually looked after Harry whenever the Dursley's didn't want him around had moved away and Harry had been forced to spend all of his waking time with them instead.

But tomorrow his Uncle Vernon would be driving him to Kings Cross Station where Harry would be boarding the Hogwarts Express from Platform 9¾.  He would see his two best friends, Ron and Hermione once again.  Although the three of them had kept up a regular correspondence it wasn't the same as seeing them everyday.

Ah, tomorrow…