The warm summer breeze drifted in through the open windows of Harry Potter's bedroom. Harry was lying on his bed, staring intently at the clear, blue morning sky outside as though hoping and expecting something to drop out from it. After a while though, he seemed to have given up. He sat up on his bed, yawned and stretched. Then he got dressed and made his way downstairs into the kitchen.

The three Dursleys were already awake and were halfway through breakfast when he entered. Ever since he came back for the summer holidays, Harry had felt very uncomfortable to be in the same room as his relatives. He didn't know why. He just wanted to avoid them for some very strange reasons. When he came to think about it, it was rather ironic because it was usually the Dursleys who didn't want to be in the same room as him. He didn't mind, of course, as they treated him almost as well as a pile of bat droppings. But he never actually avoided them like he did now either. Harry couldn't understand the abrupt change in himself. He decided to retreat back to his lonely bedroom and only come down for breakfast when the Dursleys were done.

Slowly, and lazily, Harry shifted his feet and made for the stairs. None of the Dursleys gave any signs that he'd walked into the kitchen; and none of them called out for him to join them. Harry didn't care. He was far to used to their ill manners towards him to care.

Harry had been living with his uncle, aunt and cousin ever since the age of one - ever since his parents were murdered by the most powerful and feared dark wizard of the century, and he had always been as welcome as dirt on their sparkling, clean floor.

Back in his room, Harry felt an odd sense of relief. Till now, he hadn't realised that his heart had been beating loudly and hard against his chest. Harry walked over to his bed, frowning. Where had the sense of relief come from? What in the first place had caused him to feel it? He had to be losing his mind. The lightning shaped scar on his forehead had been hurting so frequently Harry was sure that sooner or later he would have a severe brain damage.

That scar on his forehead was the reason why Harry Potter was famous in the other world. It was also the reason why he had to live with the Dursleys even though he loathed them as much as they do to him. Before Harry was born, a prophecy was made about him by his Divination teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not knowing the full contents of the prophecy, Lord Voldermort had acted rashly and tried to kill Harry, thinking that he would then fulfill the prophecy. But instead, the killing curse had rebounded upon the originator and Voldermort himself was nearly killed. Harry had since then been known as the 'Boy Who Lived' by those in the magical community.

But now, Voldermort had returned from the brink of death. It had taken Harry and those who believed him the whole of last year to convince the Minister for Magic of Voldermort's return but the stubborn Minister refused to believe and had prefered to prove that Harry was delusional.

Harry heaved a sigh as he remembered how the Ministry had finally believed him and Professor Dumbledore. Harry checked his alarm clock. Good, he had been up here for almost an hour. The Dursleys had to be done by now. He was just crossing the room to the door when he felt something brush past him. Harry turned around and saw his snow white owl settling itself on top of a wardrobe.

"Hey, Hedwig." Harry called to it. "You haven't gotten anything for me have you?" Hedwig stared unblinkingly at him. Harry's heart fell. "I guess not, huh? Well, see you later Hedwig." said Harry and he went out of his room.

The Dursleys had gone out. After a quick breakfast of cold toast and butter, Harry went back up to his room thinking that he might as well spend the rest of the miserable day talking to Hedwig or ... Hedwigs?

Harry stopped short in the doorway. His eyes had to be deceiving him. How can there be two Hedwigs? He stared from one Hedwig to the other. They stared back. Then he noticed that one had a letter and parcel attached to its leg. Harry could make out faint scribblings from it. That means the other Hedwig would be the real Hedwig.

He turned to the other Hedwig. "Hedwig?" he said uncertainly. Hedwig answered with a soft hoot.

"So who might you be?" he asked the other owl.

As though answering his question, the other snowy owl fluttered down from the top of the wardrobe, perched on top of Harry's study table and held out its leg. Harry relieved the letter and parcel off the owl's leg and unfolded it. He immediately recognised Ron Weasley, his best friend's, untidy handwriting.

Dear Harry, (it read)
Happy Birthday! ...

Harry's heart skipped a beat. His birthday! Today was his birthday! He had totally forgotten about it. He read on.

... I'm at you-know-where now.(You do know where, don't you?) Mum reminded me not to put it in this letter in case Ford here got intercepted. But it isn't like I haven't got brains! I know what should be put in and what shouldn't!
Anyway, I hope the Dursleys are not treating you too badly. You know you can always threaten them about what Moody said at King's Cross. I'd love to see the expressions on their faces.
I can't write much now Harry. We just arrived at you-know-where this morning (Hermione's coming later this evening) and mum has already set up chores for us to do. When will this house ever get clean?!
I expect you would be joining us next week. Dumbledore told us that you had to stay only a month at Privet Drive, so I guess it be only a matter of time before he send some to get you.
Be seeing you soon,
Ron

Harry folded up the letter. He knew exactly where Ron was - number 12 Grimmauld Place in London. That was where Sirius, his godfather, lived. Used to live, Harry reminded himself coldly. His heart swelled with anger at the thought. Sirius had lived there! He was not very happy at being trapped in that house again but he was alive! Bellatrix Lestrange had killed him! How Harry hated her. She had taken away the closest thing he ever had to a father he never knew. He would not let her off the next time he saw her, he was sure of that. I'll kill you, thought Harry, gritting his teeth. A second later, he felt disgusted with himself. Was he going to descend to the level of the Deatheaters? Was he really going to kill? Harry didn't know.

He sat down on his bed, hand still clutching Ron's letter. Ron had said that Harry would most likely be able to join the following week at Grimmauld Place but now Harry wasn't so sure if he wanted to go back there. Yes, it would be good to go and leave the Dursleys, but Grimmauld Place held too many painful memories of Sirius alive and happy. Going there would be facing the truth that Sirius had died - something which Harry had been trying to convince himself otherwise.

Torn between the exasperation of trying to decide whether he wanted to stay or leave, Harry buried his face in his hands. Maybe he should leave, he thought. That way, he would feel more at ease ... about what? Came a voice. More at ease about what? A new, bizzare thought came across his mind. Had he wanted to leave Privet Drive because he actually wanted to save the Dursleys from harm, knowing pretty well that Voldermort would do anything to get to him? When had he started thinking like that? Had he actually started to care about the Dursley family who had once and still made his life hell? So many unanswered questions. If only ... if only Sirius was still alive, Harry would be able to ask him for the answers. But Sirius wasn't alive. Harry would have to find the answers himself.

"Wake up," he said, poking a sleeping Ford, "I've got a letter for you to deliver. Hold on." Ford looked unmistakably like his Hedwig, who was also asleep on top of the wardrobe. Harry wondered who he belonged to in the Weasley family.

Then, making up his mind, Harry took out some parchment, quill and ink and started writing.

Dear Ron, (he wrote)
Thank you for the letter and parcel and yes, I know where you are. The Dursleys have been treating me the same ever since I got back. They're still ignoring me but who cares, life's better like that. I'd like to go to 'Where You Are' as soon as possible. I can't wait to leave this place.
All the best,
Harry

There, that'll give Ron as much as he needs to know. He didn't need to know that Harry had started feeling differently about the Dursleys. A thought struck Harry, maybe that was why he had been feeling uncomfortable around them, he was afraid that as absurd as it was, that Voldermort would burst in through the door and kill anyone with Harry, especially if they were muggles and unable to defend themselves. Harry had begun to realize that it was not worth it to hold a grudge against the Dursleys for so long just because they had given him a miserable childhood. There were other more pressing matters than this silly grudges. After all, the Dursleys had taken him in even when they despised his parents so much. It was a sacrifice on their part. They had to bring up another child who they dislike to the extend, but nevertheless, they had agreed. And no matter how much he had loathed uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and Dudley, they were his only relatives. They were family.

At that moment, Harry felt proud of himself. He could feel himself growing. He was getting older, more matured ...

Harry was woken up the next morning by a shrill hoot in his ear. A moment later, he heard uncle Vernon's bellowing voice from the next room, " HARRY POTTER! SHUT THAT BLOODY BIRD UP!"

Hmm...still the same, Harry thought, rubbing his eyes. Sighing, he turned to ask Hedwig to keep quiet but was shocked to find that it wasn't Hedwig who was hooting at all. Next to all the birthday presents and letters he had recieved yesterday, there were about six or seven owls perched on his table, all staring at him with their big, round eyes. Apparently one of them must have been tired of waiting for Harry to wake up and decided to give its own version of a morning call.

This must be it, Harry thought excitedly and anxiously. This must be what he had been waiting for the whole month - apart from leaving the Dursleys, of course. This was the reason why he had been staring out at the sky every day. But need they send him so many owls?

He relieved the owls off their letters - some were even carrying parcels; Harry couldn't think why - and they flew off. He picked up the first letter, opened it and his heart fell. No, this was not what he had expected.

"... I think you're really brave (Harry snorted). Maybe we could be friends. Happy Belated Birthday ..." Harry read the letter quietly to himself. He put it down and opened a few of the other letters, his heart sinking lower and lower as he opened them. They were all the same - all letters from fans; which was something he didn't need right now. He picked up another letter. This one bore the Hogwarts crest and Harry felt something burning with anxiety in his chest. This was the one he was waiting for. He tore it open.

He pulled out the first page of parchment within and read:

Dear Mr Potter,
Please note that the new school year would begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
You will also find the results of your O.W.Ls and a list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.

Harry took out the results of his O.W.Ls with shaking hands.

Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you of your results for the O.W.L examination. The results are as shown. Please be reminded that this result would affect your classes for N.E.W.Ts and your future career.

Transfiguration - Exceed Expectations
Charms - Exceed Expectations
Potions - Acceptable
History of Magic - Poor
Care of Magical Creatures - Outstanding
Defence Against the Dark Arts - Oustanding
Divination - Dreadful
Astronomy - Acceptable
Herbology - Outstanding

Harry stared at his results and couldn't help beaming. He had only failed two subjects. He had passed the rest. He had even gotten an 'Acceptable' for his Potions! Now there's nothing stopping him from being an Auror. Wait, a voice said suddenly. What was it that Professor McGonagall had said when she was giving him career advice? Harry remembered. She had said something like: "... Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than 'Outstanding' in their O.W.Ls ... " He, Harry, had only gotten an 'Acceptable'. Would he still be able to continue Potions? If he couldn't, he's dreams about becoming an Auror might as well be shattered because according to Professor McGonagall, "... poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors ..." Staring at the parchment in his hands, Harry tried not to think too much about it. When the time comes he will know, he decided, and he would start worrying then.