Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm sure even the plot has been copyrighted by someone. So there it is, not mine.

Chapter 1

The sun rose over 4 Privet Drive at 5:52 am. "Only three minutes off from yesterday," Harry idly mused. Yes, he knew that the sun was three minutes later today. Just like he knew it was seven minutes later than the day before that. And he knew that Uncle Vernon's alarm would go off in eight minutes – and nine minutes after that – and nine minutes after that, until the great git finally dragged himself to the loo at 6:19 am. Not that Harry wanted to know any of this. He didn't rightly care, but six weeks of being awake at ungodly hours in the morning will have you notice things like that.

Harry hadn't left his room (other than for reasons of personal hygiene) all summer. He just didn't care. The Dursleys, for there part, didn't even seem to notice. Aunt Petunia had tried for the first couple weeks to make him do chores, but even her glass breaking screeching had not roused him. Now all three were very studiously ignoring his existence. Harry wouldn't have had it any other way. His friends were supplying him with news – and more importantly food – and attempting at entertainment. But Harry wasn't biting. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed, although not that Ron and Hermione weren't putting forth a valiant effort. No, these days Harry spent the majority of his time lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. Not that he was seeing it. He was seeing Sirius. Sirius falling through the veil. Over and over. In slow motion, backwards, upside down, aerial views, from every angle possible. He blamed himself. If only he had remembered the mirror, or remembered Snape, or had practiced his Occlumency, or had recognized a trap when he saw one, any number of things! But one thing remained certain; Sirius' death could be (and was!) traced back to him and him alone. Harry closed his eyes as the all too familiar ache washed over him. The ache, the only thing that told him he was still alive. It was a wholly consuming bodily pain. The first thing he thought of when he woke up (if he had actually managed to sleep) and the thing his mind wandered to when he wasn't paying attention. It was a pain unlike one he had ever known – and if there was one thing Harry knew, it was pain. Sure, he'd been in worse pain than this. Voldemort had done worse through his scar when he wasn't even trying. The Basilisk fang through his arm was definitely worse than this. Hell, bludgers do more damage than this. Oh, and then there was the Crutacius Curse. That certainly wasn't…pleasant. No, this pain was different, for that simple reason that he didn't know when…or if…this pain would end. There was no physical reason for this pain; there was no potion to make it better. This was entirely emotional and entirely self-inflicted. Not to mention his own fault – Sirius! – how could he have forgotten the mirror? Sirius had given it to him expressly for that reason! But no he had to go and –

The slam of a door interrupted his inner monologue. He looked at the clock – 6:19. Harry closed his eyes in misery. "Why? Why do I know my uncle's bathing habits?" He blinked. "Well, at least I know he does bathe." At this point Harry knew that Aunt Petunia would be getting up soon and start with that infernal vacuum, and with that all hope of sleep would be gone. So he got himself up and decided to start on some homework. He'd tried homework before, but he couldn't concentrate. So he'd started doing a little each day, working until it became useless again. In the six weeks he'd been there, Harry had finished everything but the five foot essay Snape had set for the incoming Sixth Years. "One foot for every miserable year I've had to put up with your…failings. And you should consider yourselves lucky it's only a foot for the grief you've put me through," he had said. Harry didn't understand how Snape could have given all the Sixth Years homework considering that not all of them would be taking N.E.W.T. level potions. But when one was dealing with Severus Snape, one did not expect logic. At least it was on the Wolfsbane Potion. It was complicated, but Harry had a particular interest in this potion because of Professor Lupin. He was at two feet, four inches, and already running out of material. He pulled out his old Defense book to see if the potion was mentioned in the section on werewolves, and threw himself into his work.

Four hours later he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose where his glasses were starting to leave marks. He'd made it to three and a half feet. Groaning, he stood up and stretched; his back protesting the movement with a series of loud pops down his spine. After stowing all his magical things under the loose floorboard (just in case Aunt Petunia came snooping) he took himself to the loo for a shower. He stood under the stream of hot water thinking about Sirius. "No, stop that," he said out loud, "think about something else. Come on Potter get a hold of yourself!" He gave himself a mental shake. He had just started running through broomstick cleaning charms when a booming on the door jolted him from his reverie.

"Hurry up in there!" Dudley screamed, "Some of us have things to do today!"

"What the hell could Dudley have to do today? Beat up another ten year old?" Harry thought. None the less, he shut off the water and got out. He opened the door just as Dudley was about to start banging again. Harry raised his eyebrows at the sight of Dudley standing in a dressing gown that barely closed around him with his arm raised, his mouth open with words on his tongue, his eyes open in surprise at the door being thrown open so suddenly. Harry could see the apprehension in Dudley's eyes at his first confrontation with his magical cousin since picking him up from King's Cross.

"Good morning, Cousin." Harry spit the word out like an insult. Dudley swallowed and drew himself up to his full height, which Harry was surprised was no longer much more than his.

"You – you've been in there for an hour! Mum said you had to get out!"

"Yeah? What else did mummy say?" Harry just looked bored.

"You have to get out or…or…I'll use you for target practice like I used to!" Dudley tried to look threatening. Harry was not in the mood. Harry looked him up and down and then straight in the eye. He leaned over so that their noses were almost touching.

"Dinky-duddy-dums is gonna use me for target pwactice?" He asked in a voice one usually reserved for babies. Then his whole demeanor changed, his eyes darkened and he looked downright scary. "Don't you realize what I could do to you with two words and a flick of my wrist?" he hissed. Dudley visibly shrank into himself and backed away.

"Yo-you…you ca-can't use it outside of ssssschool," he stuttered.

"Oh can't I?" Harry backed Dudley up even more, until his back hit the wall, "there are loopholes around every rule, Dudders, and I know all of them. Don't. Tempt. Me." He said in the most threatening voice he could manage, and left Dudley quaking in the hallway as he returned to his room.

Mildly amused at his very decided victory over Dudley in the intimidation wars, Harry quickly dressed and grabbed one of Mrs. Weasley's mince pies out of the closet for breakfast. He spent a good deal of time staring at the ceiling, it seemed to be his new favorite hobby, and got up only when he heard Hedwig fly in from hunting, bringing with her a few letters. He had just finished untying them when three more owls flew in the window, competing for who would get to Harry first. Harry quickly sorted out the owls before they went Hitchcock on him and waved them over to Hedwig's cage from some water, giving Hedwig an apologetic look as she stared him down for making her accommodate the trespassers.

Turning to his mail, which had piled up on his bed, he searched immediately for the Ministry seal hoping his O.W.L. results had finally come in, but didn't find it. There was his Daily Prophet subscription, which he had taken out at Hermione's advice, the replies from Hagrid and Lupin that Hedwig had brought back, and a letter each from Ron and Hermione as well as a third one he didn't recognize. He assumed it was from Ginny as it had come attached with Ron's. He opened the Daily Prophet and skimmed the headlines. Nothing very interesting, the paper landed over in the corner with the other six weeks worth of useless reporting. He really didn't know why he bothered with the Daily Prophet, all his news came from his friends anyway. Hermione had explained that the Ministry decided to only report the really big new items to the general public in order to avoid a panic. Harry thought that was stupid, but he didn't have much of a say in the matter. At least the paper had stopped insulting him. He looked to the letters and decided to start with Hagrid.

Harry

Doin just fine, I've had me a bit of a break the past couple weeks but Dumbledore said he's got another thing for me to do soon. A you know what for the you know who. If you know what I mean. Anyway, hope the muggles are treatin you good. If they ain't you just tell me and I'll make sure that moron you call an uncle gets what's comin to him. See you on 1 September.

Hagrid

Harry shook his head at Hagrid's poor attempts at secrecy, he knew he meant well. He put Hagrid's letter in his shoebox full of the summer's correspondence and reached for Lupin's.

Harry,

I'm glad to hear that your relatives are, well, not treating you horribly…if you're happy with them ignoring you then who am I to say anything? All of us here at 12 are worried about you. I'd like to see you face to face, what do you say to tea at Mrs. Figg's house this afternoon? Around 2 pm?

Remus

Harry turned the letter over and wrote a quick reply saying he would be at Mrs. Figg's at 2 and sent Hedwig off with the reply. He stared after her for a minute and then reached for Hermione's letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm glad to hear your Aunt and Uncle are being not quite so horrible this summer. I suppose Mad-Eye's warning did the trick. I miss you and Ron desperately. Mum and Dad won't leave me alone this summer; they do nothing but ask questions. I've only just finished the extra homework I asked Professor McGonagall for! I've had no time. Mum keeps planning these "Mother/Daughter" days, all we do is go shopping and go to spas and other extreme wastes of money. But mum really enjoys them, so I don't mind going along. I think she's a little upset that she's missed me growing up. It's just hit her that I'm going to be 17 soon. I do miss spending time with her. I just wish we could sit and talk over tea rather than have our nails done. Oh well, I suppose she thinks this is what I want to do. But she keeps asking questions about you and Ron and insinuating crazy things. She thinks I fancy Ron! What utter nonsense!

Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear about my mother. I haven't heard anything much since last I wrote. As far as I know Voldemort is still laying low. Professor Lupin told me Dumbledore thinks that he's trying to downplay his return now that Fudge has been forced to acknowledge that he's back. You know, lull the Wizarding world into a false sense of security. I don't know much more about what's going on since I'm not at 12 this summer. We're both a bit out of the loop as we're stuck in the muggle world. Perhaps Ron will know? I'll write and ask him.

Oh! I've just had a letter from Professor Dumbledore. I wrote and asked him when we might expect our O.W.L. results; don't you think we should have gotten them by now? He said that there has been a bit of a problem with marking the DADA sections, but they'll be going out soon. I wonder what the problem is. I bet that Umbridge woman did something to the tests. Oh just thinking about her makes me mad. But Dumbledore said I could go to 12 next week if I wanted. I'm definitely going to go. I just hope mum doesn't have a fit when I tell her I'm going to leave. See you soon, Harry!

With love from,

Hermione

It hadn't occurred to Harry that Hermione wouldn't know much more than he did about the state of the Wizarding world, since she was also at home with her family in the muggle world. He just assumed she would have the answer to everything like she always did. She did, however, have the answer to the O.W.L. question Harry hadn't even asked yet. This didn't surprise him at all. He also wasn't the least surprised she had asked McGonagall for extra homework though, that was a very Hermione thing to do. He bet Ron hadn't even started his homework yet, let alone finished extra assignments. How his two friends could be more different, he couldn't even fathom. He went to grab Ron's letter, but grabbed the mystery one instead. He opened it and quickly looked to the bottom to see who it was from. He was right, it was Ginny.

Dear Harry,

I saw Ron writing to you, so I thought I would too. How has your summer been? Are you alright? I know things must be rough for you, going through all that and then having to go straight to the one place where the people who care about you can't be with you. I hope you know that we all care for you and we are all there for you.

Ron has been driving mum mental asking when you can come here (we're all at 12 by the way; Dumbledore thinks it's safer than the burrow for us at the moment). I know he misses you and he's worried about you. I have to admit that I'm worried about you too. You just looked so sad when we left school. I just want you to know that I'm always here for you if you ever need to talk. I know I'm not Ron or Hermione, but sometimes you need to talk to an outsider rather than someone close. I know how it feels. So, I guess that's it. See you soon, Harry.

Love,

Ginny

P.S. – Stop blaming yourself! (I know you are) It's not your fault, none of it is.

Harry found himself sniffling at the end of Ginny's letter. It was not lost on him that she was the only person all summer who had even acknowledged Sirius. He knew it was an unspoken agreement between everyone not to mention what happened at the Ministry to him, and he appreciated the effort but he didn't like everyone treating him like he was made of glass, he wasn't going to break. He looked at Ginny's P.S.. How could he not blame himself? It was his fault. Sirius died, Ron got attacked by brains, Hermione was seriously injured and could have been killed, Ginny herself had been hurt! How could she say it wasn't his fault? No, it was most definitely his fault and he felt even worse now that Ginny was being so nice to him. He didn't deserve it. He felt the ache come over him again. Then the tears came. He didn't fight them, he just let them come. Then something else hit him. Ron got attacked by brains, Hermione was seriously injured and could have been killed. What if those brains did something horrible to Ron? What if Hermione had been killed? He could never live with himself. He would have been devastated. He would never survive without Ron and Hermione. "Oh God," he thought, "what have I done? How could I put them in such danger?" The tears came harder. The full weight of his actions finally hit him. "I'm lucky it was only Sirius. It could have been so much worse," he mentally berated himself. He vowed he would never do something so stupid again. He would not put Ron and Hermione (nor anyone else for that matter) into danger again. They were not going to be punished simply for being his friend. Although it may seem like a good idea, there was no way he was going to shut them out of his life. He'd been down that road, it didn't work and he knew it. But he'd be damned if he was going to let anything happen to them because of his stupidity again!

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Hedwig fly back to her cage and when she hooted her hello it startled him right off the bed. He yelped as he hit the floor, more out of surprise than pain, and rubbed his tailbone absentmindedly. Then he realized that he was still holding Ginny's letter. Well, what was left of her letter. It was now crumpled and so tear stained he could barely read it. He put it in his pocket, as a silent reminder of the vow he'd just made. Getting up, he took a quick glance at the clock and saw that it was 1:30. "Wow, how long was I crying?" he thought as he put on his shoes. He rinsed his face with cold water to get rid of the leftover redness and set off to see Professor Lupin.

Before he even got all the way down the stairs Uncle Vernon shook the house in one of his all too familiar bellows. "BOY! What do you want?"

"I'm going out," Harry replied.

"Going out where? You don't leave your room all summer, not even to help your aunt with the household chores and now you suddenly decide to leave? I know you're up to something, what is it? Don't you dare use any of that unnaturalness here. I knew we shouldn't have taken you back in after what you did to Dudley last year –"

"What I did to Dudley? You mean saved his life, right? Because that's what I did, and sometimes I really have to wonder why I even bothered," Harry spat back at him. "I'm going out to see a friend and you'll stay out of my way or I'll have him and the rest of the crowd come back and show you what "unnaturalness" really is." Harry slammed the door and left three wide eyed (and one very purple) Dursleys staring after him.

When he arrived at Mrs. Figg's, Harry found Professor Lupin waiting in the kitchen with a pot of tea. He looked even worse than the first time Harry met him on the train in third year. He was skinny and drawn, as if he hadn't slept in weeks and his robes were even more tattered than usual. Sirius' death was obviously hitting him very hard. Harry felt terrible.

"Good afternoon, Harry."

"Afternoon, Professor."

"Please Harry, call me Remus. I'm not your professor anymore." Harry shrugged.

"What did you want to see me about, er, Remus?" That just sounded so weird to him.

"I wanted to see how you were doing myself, I know how easy it is to lie in a letter. I've done it many times this summer myself." Remus offered him a small smile, which Harry didn't return. When Harry said nothing in reply to his implication that Harry had been lying in his letters, Remus tried again, "Have a seat, Harry. Would you like some tea?"

Harry took a cup and asked where Mrs. Figg was.

"She went out to do some shopping, said we could take as long as we liked here," Remus replied. "How are you doing, Harry? Really?"

"I'm fine." Harry looked up and met his former professor's eyes. He saw nothing but compassion, caring, and sincerity. He sighed, unable to lie to the face of his father's last true friend. "I'm miserable, Professor. I can't stop thinking about it. I know no one blames me, but I feel like it's my fault."

"Well, it is your fault."

Harry stopped mid-thought. "What?"

"I said 'it is your fault.'"

Harry was dumbfounded. He blamed himself, but he never actually considered that anyone else really would. He felt vaguely bothered by this.

"Well, I was only doing what I thought was right! I only tried to help him!" Harry immediately jumped to the defensive.

"That's all well and good, Harry, but the fact still remains that Sirius is dead and if it weren't for you, he wouldn't be." Remus responded in the same monotone he'd had before, as if he was simply explaining an assignment in class.

"But…but I didn't…how can you…I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Sorry isn't going to bring him back, Harry."

"How was I supposed to know! I did everything I could! Voldemort tricked me!"

"Voldemort was able to trick you because you failed in your Occlumency"

"Professor!" Harry was plain shocked. He would have expected to see Voldemort wearing a tutu and garters, singing "I Feel Pretty" in a duet with Snape before Remus blaming him for Sirius' death.

"It's not my fault, I thought Sirius was in danger, I did what any true friend would have. How can you blame me for what happened!" Harry screamed at him, "It's not my fault, I tried! Sirius wasn't supposed to leave Headquarters! I thought he was in danger! I thought he was gonna be killed! I loved him, Professor! How could I sit there and let something happen to the closest thing to family I have! How can you blame me for that!"

Remus smiled, "I don't, Harry."

Harry's mouth dropped. Then he quickly closed it. "You – don't?"

"No, Harry, I don't."

"Then why…" Harry was truly confused now.

"Because you needed someone else to blame you in order for you to see that it really wasn't your fault." Harry sat gaping at him like a fish. "I can see you're not quite following me." Harry nodded. "Let me explain then," Remus continued, "you see Harry, when I attacked you with the blame, you defended yourself to me…and rightfully so. All the reasons you gave me were exactly right in why Sirius' death is not your fault. However, in order for you to see those reasons and even bring them to the forefront of your brain, you needed to defend yourself. I simply gave you that opportunity."

"So you played devil's advocate?" Harry asked, still bewildered.

"Essentially, yes. But now do you believe that you are not to blame?"

"No, but I feel better. Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Harry, and please call me Remus." They sat quietly sipping their tea for a few minutes. Harry still wasn't real clear what just happened, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless, and he did feel better.

"So how are you doing then?" He wondered out loud.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine." Harry gave him a 'do you really think I believe that?' look. "Ok, I suppose if I want you to tell me the truth then I should return the favor shouldn't I?" Remus asked, "Well, I'm miserable too Harry. We both lost someone very important to us, and it is exceedingly difficult. I feel like a part of me has died. Much like I felt when your parents died." Remus looked as if he was holding back tears.

"Are you alright, Remus?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright," He got a funny look on his face, as if he were there but somewhere else at the same time. Lost in his memories, "It just hits me sometimes, all over again. I lost all four of them 15 years ago – Sirius, your parents, Peter – and now, I've lost Sirius again. It hurts worse the second time. Now that I know the truth, it hurts so much worse." Silent tears had started to fall down the man's cheeks. He made no effort to wipe them away. Harry couldn't stand to look at him. He looked like someone who had lost everything, like he had nothing left to live for. Harry looked down at his tea cup, feeling rather awkward at this emotional display from his former teacher. Harry wasn't sure if Remus was even aware he had said any of that out loud. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Harry quite close to tears himself. He was about to change the subject when Remus began talking again.

"I'm the only one left," He said quietly. "James, Sirius, they're dead. Peter, he's worse than dead." He was looking at something just to the right of Harry's chair, and once again, Harry didn't know if he knew he was speaking out loud.

"I'm the only one left," he repeated, almost in awe. "Voldemort took them all from me. Everyone I've ever cared about. My family, my true family," he looked up at Harry, eyes shining with unshed tears. Harry stared back with his own tear-filled eyes. "You are all I have left, Harry. You, and the Order." Harry didn't know what to say, he felt his throat working as he lost his battle with the tears in his eyes. But he could not look away. All he could think about was Remus losing another person. "Either must die at the hands of the other…" What if he died? Would Remus be this distraught?

"Remus, I…" he started, but he was cut off.

Remus put up his hand to silence him. He looked Harry straight in the eye, his own eyes burning with an intensity Harry had never seen before. With a cold, dead, voice so calm it was scary he said, "Harry, you're going to kill him." Harry just kept staring. He didn't know what to say. Remus was seriously frightening him.

"There is no try in this, Harry. You are going to kill him, you have to." Remus was almost desperate, "You have to, Harry, you have to."

"But I'm so scared, Remus, I'm so scared." Harry worked out through his tears. Feeling for all the world the near 16 years old he was.

"I know you're scared, Harry, It's only natural to be scared, but you will succeed." Remus' voice was warm and caring again, this calmed Harry significantly.

Remus grabbed Harry's hand and entwined their fingers. "This a promise I am making to you, Harry; a magical oath, sworn on the honor of one wizard to another." He took out his wand and swirled circles in the air around their joined hands. Suddenly their hands started to glow a warm golden light. Remus put away his wand and placed his other hand on top of their joint ones. "Harry, look me in the eye now, and don't look away until I let go of your hands." Harry looked up from their hands into Remus' burning eyes. He felt a connection between them, as if some one was holding his head in place and forcing his eyes open. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. Remus stared back into his eyes and said "I, Remus John Lupin, on my honor as a wizard, make to you Harry James Potter, this oath." Harry's hand began to tingle with warmth and he could see in his peripheral vision their hands glowing brighter. Remus's eyes suddenly went the same golden color as their hands as he made his vow.

"I swear that I will do everything in my power to help you defeat Voldemort. I will help you prepare, teach you what you need to know, give you the weapons you will need. I will help you become the wizard you need to be. I will help you beat him, Harry, or I will die trying."

After leaving Mrs. Figg's, and his disturbingly serious conversation with Remus, Harry took a walk around Little Whinging. He wasn't ready to go back to the Dursley's yet; he needed some time to himself, away from the ever present sound of television or video games from Dudley's room on the other side of the wall or Aunt Petunia's shrieking. He felt like he'd been trampled by rampaging hippogriffs – multiple times - and he wanted to sort out his thoughts.

That oath Remus made to him was, intense, to say the least. Harry was overwhelmed by it. But he did feel closer to Remus than ever before, he felt a bond between them. Whether it was him clinging to last of the Marauders, or if it had something to do with the oath he didn't know; but Harry now knew how much Remus cared about him, not just as James' son, but as a person, as an equal, as a friend. He was touched that a man he admired so much would devote a good portion of his life to helping him. He felt that with Remus' help, and the other help he'd certainly get from Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, he might actually have a fighting chance against Voldemort.

On the other hand, he felt as if a huge weight had been put on his shoulders. Not that he didn't already know that he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, but it felt so much more real now that someone else had said it. He was scared, so very scared. And he was mad. Why didn't he get a choice in all of this? He didn't ask for it, and he didn't want it. He wanted to ask for help – he needed to ask for help. And he knew the help would come, more help than he wanted would probably come, but he knew deep down that no matter how much help anyone gave him or tried to give him – in the end, it would be him and only him. He and Voldemort, face to face and all alone. That thought alone scared him silly, but it also gave him confidence. Without his Deatheaters, Voldemort was only one wizard - just like Harry. He was powerful, very powerful, but Voldemort had marked Harry as his equal, so equal Harry would be.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he was surprised to find himself on the doorstep of number 4. He let himself in and walked past the front room without giving his relatives so much as a glance. He got up to his room and fell onto his bed, not realized just how tired he was until he lay down. He couldn't remember being this tired. "Figures though," he thought, "I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep all summer and after that emotional workout Remus put me through I bet I could sleep for a week." It was all he could do to kick off his shoes, take off his glasses and crawl to the pillow.

BANG!

Harry woke with a start, immediately reaching for his wand which was under his pillow. He grabbed his glasses and looked around his room, dim in the early morning sunlight, on guard for anything and everything. He looked at his clock. 6:19. Then he heard the water running in the bathroom. He flopped back down to the pillow. "Bloody Uncle Vernon had to go and slam the bloody bathroom door and wake me from the first good night's sleep I've had…and it HAD to be at 6 bloody 19!" Harry kicked his mattress in frustration. He didn't even know what time he had gone to sleep the night before, but he knew he was still tired and rolled over to go back to sleep.

BANG!

Harry woke with a start, immediately reaching for his wand which was under his pillow. He grabbed his glasses and looked around his room, dim in the early evening sunlight, on guard for anything and everything. He looked at his clock. 6:19. "What!" he thought, "What the hell is going on? I KNOW I was asleep."

BANG! BANG!

Harry looked wildly around for the source of the noise, still extremely confused. He'd concluded it wasn't the door, so he got up and went to the window. Dudley and his friends were shooting bottle rockets into the air, having them explode right by Harry's bedroom window. Looking out he realized that it was 6:19 (well, now 6:22) in the evening. "Wow, I slept another 12 hours?" he thought.

BANG!

He opened his window and leaned out. "Wanna cut that out?"

"Not really, Potty," Dudley said.

"POTTY! Oh, that's good Big D," a member of Dudley's gang had fallen into a fit of laughter. Harry rolled his eyes "What? Have these guys been hanging out with Malfoy?"

"Dudders, I'm disappointed in you. It took you 16 years to figure out how to shorten my name from Potter to Potty? You are a lot slower than you look aren't you?" Dudley's friends stopped laughing.

"Come down here and say that, Potty! You're all brave up in your window! Bet you're not so tough when you got Big D poundin' on you like back in school," the laughing member of the gang yelled up to him.

"I'm not so sure you want me to do that guys. What do you think, Big D? Think I should come down there and show them how we fight at 'St. Brutus''? You know, with our little sticks?"

Dudley's face paled. "Come on guys, mum doesn't want him outside. He's too easy to beat up anyway." Dudley started walking away, ignoring the grumbles and protests of his friends who wanted to go Harry Hunting.

Harry closed the window with a satisfied look on his face, "Stupid oafs, they think they can still scare me? Losers." He turned to go back to bed and saw Ron's letter sitting on the floor where it fell the day before. He picked it up and tore the seal.

Harry,

Mate, LOADS to tell you! But I'm not writing it down because this would be 7 feet long. Hermione's coming here next week. Can't wait to see what she looks like after her mum went and got her girly. Should be able to get a few laughs out of it.

Anyway, the major point for my letter is to tell you to pack your bags, mate! We're coming to get you tomorrow night at 8 (gotta wait til its dark or something). It's gonna be no homework, quidditch, and good times galore from now until Hermione gets here! See you tomorrow!

Ron

and for the first time that summer, Harry Potter smiled.