Since he had nothing better to do, Harry continued reading his other 'fan-mails' with a lighter heart than he did before knowing his O.W.L results.

"... I just hope that we could be friends. You're my hero ... " Harry laughed, as he read the letters. All the letters were the same. They all wanted to be his friends just because he was famous again and they were all sending birthday wishes and gifts. He was the 'Boy Who Lived' again. Harry doubted that they had wanted to be his friends a few months ago when the Daily Prophet had been reporting that he was just an attention seeker.

"What's so funny?" demanded a voice, startling Harry so much that he nearly fell off his chair. He turned around from his pile of letters and saw his cousin, Dudley, standing in the doorway of his room.

"What's that you've got there?" he demanded again, trying to peer over Harry's head at the letters. Harry decided to tell him. After all there was nothing confidential about them.

"They're fan-mails. For me," he added calmly.

"Fan-mails for what?" asked Dudley, obviously curious that his first punchbag could recieve so much attention.

"For jinxing some people who provoked me," answered Harry, delightfully savouring the expression forming on Dudley's enormous face.

"Jinx ... jinxing? But ... but you can't do m ... magic here ... Y ... You'll get expelled," stammered Dudley, going white.

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure? I got away the last time didn't I, Big D?" said Harry, thoroughly enjoying himself. Even though he didn't hate Dudley anymore, Harry couldn't help wanting to scare and taunt him. Besides, it was fun. He edged slowly towards Dudley, trying to look as threatening as he could while straining to keep his face straight. He reached towards his wand which he had always kept in the waistband of his jeans. Dudley got paler and paler but was too scared to move, apparently thinking that Harry was going to jinx him.

"DAD! DAD!" Dudley started shouting for uncle Vernon. Harry hastened to stow away the wand he had taken out as he heard the pounding of Uncle Vernon's footsteps coming up the stairs. "DAD! HE'S DOING YOU-KNOW-WHAT!" shouted Dudley again.

Uncle Vernon appeared seconds later, his big face flushed red and he looked furious. "What is it, Dudders?" Uncle Vernon asked. Dudley just pointed at Harry who tried to look innocent. He could sense that trouble was coming.

"Did he threaten you, Dudders?" Dudley nodded, still staring wide-eyed at Harry.

"I - I -" started Harry, trying to defend himself, but Uncle Vernon rounded on him.

"What have I said about doing you-know-what in this household, boy?" whispered Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth. "How many times have I warned you abut threatening my family," he continued again with the same treacherous tone, "One more time and I swear ..."

"Sorry ..." Harry mumbled softly.

Uncle Vernon's mouth dropped open and he stared at Harry. Dudley, who had started to enjoy watching his father bullying Harry with a smirk on his face, now goggled at him. Harry had never apologized to the Dursleys before. Never, in his fifteen years of living with them, had he said the word 'sorry'.

Uncle Vernon looked taken aback. He stood staring at Harry, clearly thinking what to say about the apology but couldn't seem to know how to respond, because he said instead, "Go brush your hair. Marge'll be arriving any moment and I want you downstairs!" and he and Dudley left a very appalled Harry standing in his room.

Dinner that night was as bad as dinner with Aunt Marge could ever be. Aunt Marge seemed to have forgotten that  three summers ago, Harry had accidentally inflated her. The Ministry of Magic must have done a great job at modifying her memory. Too bad they couldn't change her attitude towards me too, Harry thought bitterly to himself.

Aunt Marge was a very large, beefy woman who even had a moustache which was quite similar to her brother's, Uncle Vernon. Harry had never liked Aunt Marge; and likewise. Every of her visits to Privet Drive made Harry's life, if possible, even worse and Harry doubted that this time would be any different. Sure enough, the moment Aunt Marge had caught sight of him standing in the doorway of number 4, she had grunted her disapproval.

"Honestly, Petunia. I seriously don't understand how you and Vernon could cope with that," she jerked her large purple face towards Harry, "boy all these years. Never should have allowed it in the first place, if you asked me! But of course, you and Vernon have always been kind, thoughtful and decent (Harry supressed a snort with difficulty) compared to his worthless, good-for-nothing pa -"

Harry's face suddenly burned with anger. Uncle Vernon must have noticed it and remembered the last time Aunt Marge had insulted Harry's parents because he hastily ushered her into the kitchen before she could finish her sentence and changing the subject along the way. Aunt Petunia turned around and hissed at Harry to bring Aunt Marge's suitcase up the stairs. Well, at least one thing has improved, Harry thought miserably to himself, she didn't bring Ripper along.

Aunt Marge lived alone in the country, in a house with a large garden where she spend her time breeding her bulldogs. Ripper was one of her favorite dogs and he was always brought along when she visited, making Harry's life hell everytime the duo came to stay.

After dinner, in which Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia - obviously trying to prevent history from repeating itself - had managed to sway Aunt Marge away everytime she started on Harry, they all settled into the Dursleys living room. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley and Aunt Marge were all watching television. Harry wished that he could be in his room all alone, rather than being with Aunt Marge who was likely to start criticising him at any moment. But one look at Uncle Vernon and he knew he had to stay.

Harry stared at the television screen. The news was on, and all too soon, Harry saw a familiar face. One he loathed and hated beyond all others.

She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly, though Harry had seen it sleek, thick and shining. She glared at him from the screen through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile played around her thin mouth. Just like Sirius had been before he died, she retained vestiges of great good looks. It was her. Bellatrix Lestrange. The one who murdered Sirius.

Without thinking, Harry whipped out his wand. Preparing to strike, but a pounding in his ears brought Harry back to his senses. Uncle Vernon had just punched him on the head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Uncle Vernon hissed in his ears. "Put that thing away!"

What was he thinking?! Was he, Harry, so obsessed in hunting down Bellatrix and revenging Sirius' death that he had forgotten everything at the sight of her face? Harry hurriedly tucked his wand away, looked up and saw the Dursleys all staring at him. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley all surveyed him with unmistakable fear in their eyes. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, obviously thought he was insane because she muttered to Aunt Petunia who was sitting beside her, "I'd send him away quickly before he gets all winded up there ... why did you allow him to bring in a mouldy old stick like that?"

Harry pretended not to hear her and focused his attention back onto the television. Faces of the other Death Eaters who had gotten away showed up one by one on the screen. Harry wondered for a moment why these Death Eaters could appear in the muggle news but thought he knew better. Three summers ago, when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and was supposedly dangerous, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself had informed the muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. Fudge must have found the need to do so again but Harry doubted if it'll help, especially with Voldermort around aiding his suppoters' escape.

"AAAIIIIII!!!!!!"

Harry's thoughts were shattered by a loud shriek that nearly made him fall of his couch in his stupor. As though this was the signal Harry had been waiting for, he unleashed his wand again and looked around for the source of commotion. It turned out to be Aunt Marge and Harry didn't need another blow on his head tell him that he had to keep his wand. Harry saw at once what was bothering Aunt Marge.

Twittering madly, zooming round and round her head was Pig, Ron's minute owl, only about the size of Harry's palm. Aunt Petunia's lips were pursed like she always did when something disagreed with her and she seemed fit to explode any moment at the racket Pig was making. Uncle Vernon, however, glared at Harry and bellowed, "GET THAT BLOODY BIRD OUT OF HERE!"

Harry quickly snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and ran up to his bedroom. He could still hear the hysterical screams of Aunt Marge followed by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's attempt at calming her through his open door. That was the first time he had ever heard Aunt Marge scream and to think it was over a small matter like that. Harry couldn't help grinning, even when he knew he would have to face his uncle later. Never had it come across him that big, burly Aunt Marge, as mean as her bulldogs, would be so afraid of something so tiny and harmless. But that wasn't the first time he'd ever encountered someone with bird phobia. When Harry was twelve, he remembered vividly a guest of Uncle Vernon who had a similar reaction to Aunt Marge when it came to birds. But still, when it came to Aunt Marge ... Harry couldn't control himself any longer and burst out laughing, Pigwidgeon still hooting happily in his hands.

Harry managed to calm himself down after a while. Still holding Pig, he headed for his study table. It was still stacked with the many letters he had received that morning. That morning, he remembered, that morning, he was so different. It was true that after receiving his O.W.L results he had been breathing easier, but that doesn't mean he had forgotten about Lord Voldermort or he was over Sirius' death. His woes were still there and he was fighting hard to forget it and relax but he couldn't. At least not until he had been given the alarming news that Aunt Marge was coming to stay ...

And it struck Harry. When he had heard that Aunt Marge was coming to stay, he was so shocked that it had driven everything out of his mind the whole day, up till now. For those few precious hours, he had been living like a normal boy, not a care in the world except for an Aunt who made his life miserable. But now, after just seeing Bellatrix's face on the television, all his woe had returned making him feel horrible again.

Harry untied the envelope attached to Pigwidgeon's leg and the owl flew off into Hedwig's cage and took a gulp of water.

There were three pieces of paper in the envelope. Harry unfolded the first one and read it. It was from Ron. What is it now? Harry thought to himself.

Dear Harry,

Dumbledore's told us! He'd be sending someone over to fetch you on Thursday. I'm still not sure what time. I'll get back to you on that.

Anyway, guess what?! I've got my O.W.L results! I can't believe I did so well! Hermione's got her's too. Have you gotten yours?

Here, I've send you a copy of our results.

See you soon,

Ron.

P.S. Hermione says hi.

Harry finished reading and feeling slightly happier that Dumbledore had not forgotten him, pulled out another piece of paper from the envelope. It was Hermione's results.

Defence Against The Dark Arts - Exceed Expectation

Potions - Outstanding

Ancient Runes - Exceed Expectation

Care of Magical Creatures - Outstanding

History of Magic - Outstanding

Charms - Exceed Expectation

Herbology - Outstanding

Transfiguration - Outstanding

Astronomy - Outstanding

Arithmancy - Outstanding

Harry wasn't the least bit surprised to see Hermione's results. Hermione had a reputation as the cleverest witch in her year. Maybe even the whole of Hogwarts, Harry thought. But Harry was still surprised that she had not gotten an 'Outstanding' for her Charms. Hermione had after all gotten a hundred and twelve percent for one of her exams on Charms. Ron on the other hand, was a different matter.

Defence Against The Dark Arts - Exceed Expectations

Potions - Acceptable

Divination - Dreadful

History of Magic - Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures - Outstanding

Charms - Exceed Expectation

Astronomy - Exceed Expectation

Transfiguration - Exceed Expectation

Herbology - Outstanding

Ron's results were much more acceptable than Hermione's which had seemed too perfect. Even so, his results were better than Harry's. Harry couldn't help it. He was jealous of Ron again; like the time he did last summer when they found out that Ron was chosen to be a prefect. Harry had been so sure it was going to be him, not Ron. Harry felt sick with himself at that thought and he began to have the same conflict with himself as he did last summer. Did he really believe he was better than Ron just because he made it out of their life-risking adventures alive? No, he thought. People were different in many ways. There had to be a few times where Ron would do better than him and as Ron's best friend, he would have to except it.

Harry took out his quill and parchment and started writing back.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Congratulations on your results! You did really well, mate, and Hermione, your result was almost perfect. I've also send you a copy of my own results. I just got it this morning.

I'm can't wait for Thursday,

Harry.

P.S. Thank you for your present Hermione.

After sending Pigwidgeon back with the letter, Harry went to cross out a day off the calender he had made. Good, tomorrow was Wednesday. He would be leaving Privet Drive on Thursday. He couldn't wait. Just then, he heard the pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs and knew he was in for a big trouble with Uncle Vernon.