Chapter One

Ever since Harry Potter had first attended Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his least favorite part of every school year had been spending time over the summer at number four, Privet Drive and with the exception of Tonks's plentiful letters, this summer had by far been the most miserable and uneventful.

With the onset of Lord Voldemort's new reign of terror having actually been acknowledged by the Ministry of Magic, every wizard and witch in the magical world was acting many times more suspicious than was probably necessary. Letters sent by owls were all very carefully monitored, each one dissected and meticulously examined so that the Ministry could be absolutely sure none of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters were communicating via owl. Harry was sure none of them would be quite that stupid, as it wasn't hard for someone to intercept an owl, but he was also sure the Ministry didn't particularly care what he thought.

Even the Daily Prophet, which – although biased – had once provided Harry with one of his only sources of information regarding the wizarding world during the summer, had been degraded to merely pointing out time and time again things that had already become obvious. Hermione and Ron could no longer write gossipy letters full of information they might have picked up, and the subscription of The Quibbler Luna 'Loony' Lovegold had provided him for free did him no good at all. When Harry had last seen Ron and Hermione on the platform of nine and three-quarters they had both promised to see him soon, but were obviously unable to keep said promises.

The members of the Order of the Phoenix, however, had kept their promise to make sure that Harry was safe, sound, and comfortable during his stay at the Dursley's. They had assigned an Auror named Nymphadora Tonks – who preferred to be called only Tonks with the task of writing Harry a letter every three days, and they insisted Harry reply to each and every one of them. Tonks's letters were all lovingly composed, but frustratingly uninformative and they did nothing to fill the void that the letters from Harry's deceased Godfather, Sirius Black, had once completed.

Harry constantly dreamt of Sirius. He had dreams that he met Sirius's ghost, dreams that he saw Sirius in crowded places he had never been, dreams that Sirius would come take him away from the Dursley's. He even had dreams that he was merely dreaming having any dreams at all, and in those dreams he awoke to a world were Sirius had never been enveloped in the veil and communicated to him freely. He tried to repair the mirror Sirius had given him that he had shattered in a fit of rage, hoping he might catch a glimpse of Sirius in it somehow, but he never quite succeeded.

At first Tonks had addressed the Sirius issue in her letters, but Harry only responded with the same thing every time – he was still in denial, and Tonks's letters couldn't change that. After awhile the letters left the subject alone and Harry almost regretted it, forced for once to bear the burden of his loss completely alone and without support.

Tonks was living with Sirius's – former – good friend, Remus Lupin, because it was supposedly more convenient for Order members to be in close proximity incase something came up and one or the other needed help quickly. In her letters, Tonks touched on the possibility that she was harboring a deep affection for Professor Lupin (who wasn't actually a professor), but she never actually admitted it.

Reading any of the letters that sounded like they were from a lovesick teen made something inside Harry long painfully for the brief moments he had been allowed to spend with Cho Chang. Ginny, however, occasionally wrote him letters that spoke of Michael Corner, her most recent ex who had apparently been rubbing his relationship with Cho in Ginny's face, and Harry was quickly reminded that Cho was spoken for and he had more pressing things to worry about.

In reality, Harry did not have more pressing things to worry about. He had done all his homework early in the summer, seeing as he was bored and most of it was easy. Professor Firenze had assigned an annoying and lengthy paper all of his students were to do about omens, but Harry had stopped taking Divination at the end of his fifth year. He had aspirations of becoming an Auror and had learned from Tonks that Divination and Muggle Studies were probably the two most useless classes a wannabe-Auror could take.

Instead, Harry wanted to take Ancient Runes, at the very least. It would be nice to have a class without Ron for once, and although ancient, no one had ever said runes were useless. He wasn't sure what else he wanted to take, since he had yet to receive the results of his O.W.Ls. Tonks had mailed him a few books about runes that he had read over numerous times, and he was left with nothing to do now besides skim idly through the latest edition of The Quibbler.

Now that he had time to think about it, there had been at least one incident that was somewhat significant that summer. A woman from Uncle Vernon's drill firm, Grunnings, had – according to Uncle Vernon – invited herself over for dinner one evening in early June.

Uncle Vernon insisted this was one of the most important dinners they would ever host as far as business went, despite that the woman was coming over uninvited, and he demanded everything be perfect. Uncle Vernon often distanced himself from individuals who were capable of making a social faux pas as great as this woman evidently had made, although Harry noted that Uncle Vernon knew enough about her to know her favorite foods were crepes and omelets and demanded they be prepared for dinner.

When Uncle Vernon attempted to hide Harry away in his room and deny all evidence that he existed, Aunt Petunia kindly pointed out that Harry was the best in the household at preparing breakfast foods, as they had often forced him to do so.

"Besides," Aunt Petunia had added quietly to Uncle Vernon, obviously unaware Harry could overhear her, "If we lock him away, he might write to that awful godfather of his."

Uncle Vernon had grunted and nodded his head in brief assent. Harry had never told them his godfather had been killed the previous spring, and he never planned to tell them. It was apt to be nothing but to his benefit if they thought him alive and as long as they never spoke directly to Harry about Sirius, he promised himself he wouldn't break down in front of them.

Harry had, per Aunt Petunia's suggestion, been drafted into preparing dinner that night. Although he cooked absentmindedly, the food still turned out wonderfully, as Harry's breakfasts (although dinner in this case) always did. The woman had arrived shortly after seven, looking as professional as Harry supposed someone who Mrs. Weasley might say was "blessed in the chest" could look.

Aunt Petunia had given her an appraising look, neglecting to introduce herself as Uncle Vernon let the woman into the house and announced her name to be Ms. Veronica. Ms. Veronica wore a suit that consisted of a coat and a short shirt with matching tie that made her look more like a badly dressed trick-or-treater who wanted to be a secretary than a business woman.

As they ate, Ms. Veronica complemented the food many more times than was necessary and every time she did, Uncle Vernon took credit for the culinary delights. Ms. Veronica laughed with a horribly false sense over-joyment, her bosom bouncing noticeably as she did so, and every time this happened Uncle Vernon and Dudley would both did whatever they could to keep her laughing. Aunt Petunia shot them both disapproving looks throughout the larger part of the evening.

Eventually Aunt Petunia became so fed up with the antics of her son and husband that she slammed her silverware onto the table and said quite loudly, "I need to speak to you, Vernon." Everyone looked over at Aunt Petunia and Ms. Veronica even gave her a wave of her hand as though to say she was allowing her to speak. "… In the other room." She added, standing and stalking huffily down the hall.

Ms. Veronica, who had been sitting next to Harry throughout the duration of the evening, leaned over to him. Harry almost expected her to stroke his leg or something, but instead she – rather to surprisingly – opened her mouth to speak. "Vernon wasn't always such a pompous ass, you know." She said in a quiet, breathless voice.

Harry raised an eyebrow, a silent indication that he wanted to know more without alerting his oblivious cousin Dudley that they were having any semblance of a conversation.

"Yeah, ever since his family finally decided he was actually a squib, he never really got over it." She said in the same hushed voice. "Even that disgusting Marge was better off than him, but they made the entire family forget their ways after the fit he threw. It's no wonder he married someone as horrible as her." She finished with a smirk, gazing avidly at Dudley who was watching her chest and nothing else.

Harry's mind went blank for a moment. He opened his mouth, but only slurred stuttering came out and he found himself unable to voice any coherent thoughts. Had she just told him Uncle Vernon was a squib? Yes, she had said squib, he was sure of it. Harry came horribly close to fainting right there and winding up with a face full of egg and ham.

Aunt Petunia stalked back into the kitchen, Uncle Vernon close behind, looking like a hurt puppy. Uncle Vernon explained that dinner was over and they were all very tired and Ms. Veronica had to leave. He paused for a moment before telling her where he would see her next ("… at … uh, work.") and was careful not to let Aunt Petunia see him touching her arm as he lead her to the door. Aunt Petunia had been in a fowl mood the remainder of the week.

Harry inwardly chucked, remembering how wonderful a feeling it had been to see Uncle Vernon so miserable while Aunt Petunia snubbed him. His thoughts lingered on the possibility that what that woman had told him that evening was indeed true. No one had ever told him much about Uncle Vernon's family and he didn't know any of his relatives on that side besides his former Aunt Marge. Besides, knowing how Hogwarts' caretaker Argus Filch acted as a result of being a squib, Harry didn't find the whole thing entirely beyond believing. However, he couldn't be sure of anything until he was back in the wizarding world.

Harry cast a brief glance around his room, kidding himself if he thought he might spot something worth doing. His eyes came to rest upon a stack of birthday cards and gifts nearly two weeks old and still sitting on his desk. His friends had learned that he preferred food over anything else as far as birthday presents went, and had supplied him with a plentiful amount of chocolate frogs and other assorted candies, although Tonks had sent him a quill and a bottle of ink specifically for drawing runes and Hagrid had provided an umpteen number of his specialty "cakes."

A slow, clumsy knock (Harry fleetingly wondered if it was even possible to knock clumsily) stirred Harry out of his reverie. "Mum said to bring you food," Dudley grunted from outside.

Harry forced himself to open the door for his overweight cousin, despite the fact it was unlocked (it never had a lock that worked from the inside to begin with) and Dudley was perfectly capable of opening it himself. Dudley grudgingly shoved a tray into Harry's hands, acting as though it might burn him if he held onto it any longer.

"Thanks." Harry said flatly, eyeing the tray. As Dudley grunted a goodbye and stomped off down the hall, Harry noted that Dudley had eaten the meat out of what he assumed was once a turkey sandwich and licked clean the small bowl of pudding Aunt Petunia had provided him. Dudley's parents continued to attempt keeping him on a diet, which was now stricter than ever and Dudley compensated by eating Harry's food as well as his own.

Hedwig ceased preening her wings long enough to cast Harry a longing glance as he poked around the remains of the sandwich. He let her have the top half loaf and occupied himself with carving holes into the bottom loaf with his fingernails rather than eating it.

While Harry was busily mutilating the ruins of his dinner, a small dark owl came through his open window and perched on the windowsill, regarding him curiously. It was intent on not disturbing Harry while he appeared to be eating, but after awhile began rustling its feathers impatiently until he looked up and saw it. He knew immediately what the owl carried and rushed over to receive his letter, stumbling over himself as he did so.

The owl stuck its leg out for Harry and tried to look as regal as was possible for such a small animal. Harry untied the letter rather awkwardly and smiled as he ran his fingers over the Hogwarts seal. He glanced at the owl out of the corner of his eye to find it was still sitting on the windowsill looking like it expected an award of some sort. Harry offered it the remains of his dinner, which were now all but unrecognizable and the owl chose to go find someone more appreciative of its services.

Harry opened the envelope and found concealed within a copy of the results of his O.W.Ls. He breathed in sharply before reading:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We hope this letter finds you well and trust you haven't gotten yourself into any trouble this summer. Within this letter, you will find the results of the O.W.Ls administered at the end of your fifth year as well as all of the classes available for you to take and the books required for each. You will pick a minimum of five classes or a maximum of nine, and send an owl with your choices. You will then acquire the books and supplies needed for those classes. Please use the contained career advice to assist you in selecting classes. If there are any problems with your choices you will be notified before the beginning of term on September 1st, so that you may still acquire the proper supplies.

Your O.W.L results were:

Astronomy: Exceeds Expectations

Care for Magical Creatures: Outstanding

Charms: Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Divination: Dreadful

Herbology: Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic: Outstanding

Occlumency: Outstanding

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Based on your career advice meeting with your House Head during last year's second term, below is provided a list of possible…

The letter continued on about career advice, supplies, and class options. Harry blinked awkwardly at the letter for a moment, trying to decide what about it was oddest. The first thing he noticed was his outstanding in Occlumency, a class that he had not officially even taken and hadn't even been any good at doing. He also found it odd that quite a few classes that were not previously offered to students in their 6th year (or anyone, as far as he knew) were suddenly being offered.

Over the next few minutes, Harry wandered around his room gazing at the letter in a daze. He neglected to read the entire letter, which he would regret later, but instead considered the classes available to him and tried desperately to remember what Professor McGonnagal had told him he needed to take at NEWT level to enter Auror training. In the midst of contemplating all of this, he received three more letters.

The first read:

You got your letter from Hogwarts, too, right, Harry? I got a lot more OWLs than I expected and I'm… well… you know… Prefect again. Hermione didn't mention if she got Prefect too or not… But I got four Outstandings! I managed to scrape Acceptables in Astronomy, Potions, Divination, and Charms, too. Mum says you can come to Diagon Alley with us and we can come get you. Hermy is supposed to meet us there. Mum can use a phellyt tellyphone pretty well now, so she might call your aunt and uncle.

See you soon, Ron

The second read:

Dear Harry,

I can't believe it! I got Outstandings in everything, even Potions! I mean, not that I'm entirely surprised, but it's just so great. I hope you did well, too, I know Ron did. Well, considering it is Ron and everything. My parents are going to take me to meet him in Diagon Alley, I hope you can come.

Stay out of trouble,

Hermione

The last letter was, of course, one of Tonks's usual letters. Apparently she had seen a copy of his OWL scores and congratulated him for the most part. She did take the time, however, to scold him for his Dreadful in Divination. She and Remus were going to meet the Weasleys and Hermione in Diagonal Alley and said they both looked forward to seeing him there.

Harry tossed the letters onto his bed and rushed out of the room. He planned on lingering downstairs until Mrs. Weasley called, like he was sure she would do. He found his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sitting stiffly on the living room couch, watching the evening news. Dudley was wandering about in the kitchen, no doubt trying to find a way to get food without anyone realizing it. Harry chose to entertain himself for a bit while he waited.

"'Ello," He said cheerfully as he entered the kitchen. Dudley jumped and turned to face Harry, letting loose a grunt that Harry supposed could have counted as a surprised squeal.

"I – I already brought you food… uh, already… go away," Dudley said, taking on a defensive tone. He tried desperately to lean casually on the countertop and look as though he hadn't been doing anything. His fat arm, however, kept slipping and keeping him from standing properly.

"Oh, yes, I know," Harry said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Tell your mum it was a very nice sandwich, considering there was nothing besides bread on it, would you?"

Dudley narrowed his beady eyes, watching Harry suspiciously. "There was meat on that sandwich," He insisted.

"Really?" Harry said, taking on a falsely skeptical tone. Dudley tried to nod his head, but his double chins and overly wide neck prevented him from doing so. The telephone rang, causing Dudley to jump again.

Dudley, who usually just ignored the telephone, insisted on rushing over to try to answer it once he noticed Harry doing so. Dudley beat Harry to the phone and swept it off the hook, the entire white phone nearly concealed in his pudgy fist. Aunt Petunia had already answered the phone in the living room, so Dudley contented himself with merely eavesdropping.

"I'll tell your mum you ate my sandwich unless you give me that," Harry said.

Dudley peered at him, failing to look unbelieving, and handed Harry the phone. "It's nobody anyway. Just some stupid woman." He said.

"I'll be the judge of that," Harry said, accepting the receiver. It was, indeed, Mrs. Weasley. She was much better than Mr. Weasley had been at using the telephone, and had rather fortunately not been forced to talk to Uncle Vernon.

"—we'll come and get him, you won't have to worry about it. We won't come in the house or anything, I promise. I'll just ring the doorbell and Harry can come outside and we'll leave. No trouble or anything," She was saying.

"Well," Aunt Petunia said, considering the matter carefully. "I'll have to ask Vernon what he thinks. Hold on just a moment."

The was a soft rustling noise as Aunt Petunia set the phone down and Harry could hear her talking the quietly to Uncle Vernon. Suddenly the sound of someone yelling "NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. IF THEY DRIVE HERE OTHER PEOPLE MIGHT SEE THEM. HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" drifted in from the living room. Dudley smirked, folds of fat falling over his crooked smile, and Harry heard Mrs. Weasley give a muffed squeak.

There was more soft rustling as Aunt Petunia picked the phone back up. "Vernon says he would be delighted to have Harry spend the remainder of the summer with you," she said. Harry could hear Uncle Vernon's sounds of protest both over the phone and in the next room. Mrs. Weasley sounded positively overjoyed and told Aunt Petunia they would be over to pick him up the following morning. They exchanged goodbyes and Aunt Petunia hung the phone up.

Dudley was looking more suspicious than ever now, so rather than hanging the phone up, Harry offered the receiver back to Dudley. Dudley took it, pushing it to his ear as though he expected it to answer all of his questions.

Harry appeared in the entrance to the living room just as Aunt Petunia yelled for him to come downstairs. "Hi," Harry said immediately after she closed her mouth, and she looked up at him, bewildered.

"See? See!" Uncle Vernon demanded, his wide mustache bristling angrily. "He was using his… his…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "… his magic…" and then much louder once again as he finished, "to spy on us in our own home, Petunia! How else would he know we wanted him that quickly? You can't let him spend the summer with those – those people!"

"She seemed decent enough to me," Aunt Petunia said simply. "She wasn't yelling and promised not to destroy our living room. Besides, it isn't the entire summer. It's hardly even a week, Vernon," she added soothingly.

Harry barely managed to conceal a fit of laughter, highly amused by Mrs. Weasley's references to her husband's past unacceptable behavior around the Dursleys and Aunt Petunia's ability to remember the incidents. "I can go then, right?" He asked, planning on finding a way to go regardless of what either of his relatives said.

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to speak, but Aunt Petunia cut him off. "Of course you can, but they're not allowed in the house and I would prefer only one of them come to do the door."

Harry ginned and Uncle Vernon's face turned a scarlet shade of red. "The most NORMAL looking one." He insisted loudly.

"I promise the most normal looking one will come to the door," Harry assured him.

Harry left the room feeling more elated than he had in months. Even Dudley, who was standing at the foot of the stairs ready to smash Harry's head into a pulp if he wasn't told what was going on, was unable to shift Harry from his new state of mind.

Once upstairs Harry hurriedly tidied his room, packing all the things that he would need at Hogwarts into his trunk so that he'd be ready in the morning. He attempted to use Tonks's 'pack' spell to quickly stow everything away, but found himself even worse at it than she had been. Hedwig put forth feeble squawks of protest at not being allowed outside for the night, but eventually became tired and ceased her hooted complaints.

Harry slept better that night than he had in the past three months and unbeknownst to him better than he would for many more.