Disclaimer: I have no intention of making aney money off of this story,I give all credit for characters(and histories of said characters)to J.K. Rowling

Chapter 1:

Waking Up to A Brand New Summer

It was the first day of summer, and Harry Potter was lying back comfortably in his bed. He was a most extraordinary boy. He had messy black hair (that he had decided was easiest if merely left to do what it wanted), bright green eyes set behind round glasses, and pale but clear skin set over delicate but still charmingly masculine features. Yet perhaps the must unusual and famous feature about him was his scar; a lightning bolt shaped mark that sat in the center of his forehead. Of course, those were only his physical peculiarities. He was also the most down-to-earth, even tempered (usually), and determinedly pure-minded (well, as pure-minded as being nearly sixteen years old can be) boy you could ever meet. And besides all that, a wizard.

"BOY!" Was suddenly heard loudly from just outside his bedroom door. "Boy open this door, NOW!" His Uncle Vernon said again loudly.

Harry climbed out, wearing his worn flannel pants.

"You hear me in there, boy?" His uncle was saying. Harry opened the door. He watched as his Uncle's eyes darted around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Harry stepped aside to allow his uncle entrance – before Vernon could just shove him out of the way – and rubbed the last remnants of sleep from his eyes before going to grab his glasses from the bedside table.

His uncle was a large man, thick as a tree-trunk with the complexion of a tomato. He was also one of the most unpleasant people Harry had ever had the misfortune to meet, or grow up with.

"So." His uncle said, crossing his arms. "So." He said again a few minutes later. Harry gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to reply 'So what?'. Vernon stared at him very hard for a few seconds more, and then his eyes roved Harry's thin but still muscular body. "There will be no funny stuff this summer. None at all. No accidentally floating cakes...No owls in the dead of night waking us up...no flying cars...and no strange people visiting! Not to pick you up or to have a talk with us, not for anything. They want to communicate; they do it by regular post. Understood?" Harry nodded reluctantly, thinking of his best friend, Ronald Weasley, and wondering how to explain to him that he needed to use a mailbox from now on. "And another thing, your... school supplies," He said the words with hesitation. "Are to be kept hidden at all times. Not left about on your desk and such, or on the floor. No feather pens and bottles of ink or the like. Normal pens and bound notebooks. Understood?" Harry nodded again, wondering why his uncle had turned about on his usual policy of not allowing anything to do with Harry's, 'problem' as they liked to call it, in the house at all.

"So I'm allowed to do homework, but I can't leave it about where anyone can see it?" He asked slowly. Vernon's face reddened, but he nodded curtly. "Can I ask why?"

"Aunt Agatha is coming over...along with your cousins." Harry groaned. Vernon glared a moment before turning and slamming the door behind him.

Harry had met his aunt and her notorious family only twice before. Both times Harry remembered almost with affection, they were the most entertaining people Harry had ever met. She had twin boys, and a younger set of twin girls. The boys were only a year younger than Harry, and they each had straw-blonde hair, with watery blue eyes, much like Dudley, except that they were also straw-thin. One was named Richard, and the other was Adam. Richard was a taller version of Adam, but outside of height they were identical. The twin girls however, were night and day; even Agatha, their mother, wasn't sure where Nora, the older of the twins, got her genes. Nora was short and small, while her sister Alberta was tall and wide; a version of Marge herself. Alberta also had her aunt's nasty temper and mean disposition, though she was only twelve. Harry actually rather liked Nora, she was quiet and most similar to himself, in not only temperament and personality, but in physical characteristics too. She had long, waist length black hair that no comb could ever hope to untangle, and bright blue eyes.

Harry stretched his growing frame out again on his bed, thinking how he would manage to keep all of his things out of the way. Particularly his owl Hedwig; she was an obvious curiosity, and not something he could merely stick in his closet. His broom was also going to be tricky. Then he began to wonder what he would be telling Hermione and Ron.

Hermione Granger, one of his best friends from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was muggle-born (meaning she herself was magical, but none of her family was), so he knew he need not worry about informing her that she was now going to have to use muggle post. But Ronald Weasley, his other best friend, was magical through and through. He knew next to nothing about muggles or their society, and was completely unfamiliar with their ways of doing things. Harry doubted he had ever even seen a muggle mailbox, let alone post office. Harry sighed and moved over to his trunk. He opened the lid wearily, gazing at the motley collection of objects he had accumulated over his years of acquaintance with the magical world.

He pulled his Invisibility Cloak, along with the rest of his school robes, out and moved over to hang them up in his battered wardrobe. Next he took all of his schoolbooks out and over to his desk, there he put them in the drawer that he hid all of his textbooks in. After that, he took his pocket sneakoscope out and put it in a different drawer, and then his bag of money, his Marauder's map, all of his quills and bottles of ink, all of his parchment, and then, there at the bottom, sat his Firebolt, next to his broom servicing kit. He looked at his room, wondering where he could possibly put that, that no one would find it. Then his gaze rested on his bed. He pulled it out, set it on his bed, inspected it to see if it needed any kind of cleaning or grooming, then went down the hall for a sheet. He carefully wrapped it up inside the sheet with the broom servicing kit, and then slid it under his bed.

After that, he found all of the sweaters that Mrs. Weasley had made for him over the years. He hung them all up in his wardrobe also. He double checked his trunk to be sure he was leaving nothing behind, and then dragged it out and up into the attic where it would live until he needed it again. He saw his wand sitting where it always did, on his bed stand, and picked it up, inspecting it also for any kind of wear or tear; but it was a powerful magical item, and so took anything that he did to it rather well. When he was satisfied it was well intact, he reverently set it in his desk drawer.

Once all was put away, he threw an old shirt of Dudley's on and went downstairs.

Aunt Petunia's lips pursed when he walked into the kitchen and sat down. "Do something with your hair." She said after eyeing him for a few minutes.

"I can't. Nothing I do to it, even anything... er... that I ever tried at school will make it behave." She glared at him when he stuttered over saying 'magical'.

"Well then we'll just have to cut it, won't we?" She said snidely.

"No, we won't. Because I'll just make it grow back." He stared her down over the table.

"Fine. Look like a mad hoodlum for all I care." She said angrily.

"Well isn't that what you'd like the neighbors to think anyways?" He asked her in an equally angry tone. She wouldn't look at him. Vernon walked in.

"I'm going to install locks on everything in your room so you can lock it up tight." He said gruffly, not looking at Harry either. With that said, he opened the newspaper and started reading. Harry served himself a small helping of breakfast and ate as fast as he could. When he was finished he put his plate in the sink and left the kitchen in equal haste.

Sitting unhappily out on his windowsill was his owl Hedwig. He slid the pane open and moved so she could enter. When she was comfortably perched on the end of his bed, he moved to his desk, pulled out a few owl treats and gave them to her. She cooed happily at him and closed her eyes for sleep. He gazed at her for a few seconds from his chair then turned to write a few letters.

Hermione,

My Uncle's relatives are all coming over. They're all right, better than the Dursleys or Marge, but they are related to Vernon. He says I'm to keep all of my things under lock and key at all times when I'm not present, and what's more, I have to use muggle post to talk to you all... at least until they're gone. I was wondering if it were at all possible for you to perhaps keep Hedwig for me, for however long they might stay? I would be eternally grateful. Another thing, Ron will most likely be curious as to how to use muggle post, as I doubt he even knew they had it, so I warn you, he'll be calling on you for help. I'll explain it to him, as best I can... but... you know him. Anyways. Thank you so much, I know you don't have your own owl, so you're welcome to use Hedwig as much as you might need her, I'll tell her to listen to you. I hope you enjoy your summer as much as I'm going to not enjoy mine. I'll hear from you later!

-Harry

Next He wrote to Ron, a long detailed list of instructions along with it on how to go about finding a mailbox or post office, and a wrapped package of ballpoint pens, notebook paper, envelopes and stamps along with it. He made sure that the fact that you only needed one stamp per envelope was mentioned in there with underlines.

Then, after he'd given Hedwig instructions and the mail, he twiddled his thumbs a few minutes before deciding to go downstairs, hoping to maybe watch some television.

He sat down on the couch next to his cousin Dudley. Dudley scooted to the farthest end, as far away from Harry as he could be without actually getting up and fleeing the room. Harry reached for the remote, and saw Dudley flinch. Harry grinned maliciously, twiddling his fingers over the remote casually. Dudley's eyes widened and Harry smirked, moving his lips silently before picking up the remote and changing the channel. Dudley stared at him, eyes wide, and mouth forming words with no sound. "...M-m-m-m-MUM!" He suddenly screamed. Harry stopped smiling, and looked at Dudley sideways. "Mum..." Dudley repeated in a low whine. Harry just stared at him for a few more seconds and then focused again on the TV.

"I'm glad you didn't rat. It shows you may have some character to you after all." Harry said quietly a few seconds later. Then he moved the remote to sit back between them.

Dudley screamed. Harry looked around quickly, but there was nothing wrong. Dudley's face was contorted with horror. "What?" Harry asked. "What is it?" He scanned the room again, searching for something strange. "What?" He asked again. "WHAT?" He yelled.

"You...you...you..." He was stuttering. Petunia came barreling into the kitchen.

"What happened?" She asked shrilly, scanning the room also.

"He...he...he floated the remote onto the couch... it...it moved by itself...it moved..." He mumbled, staring wide-eyed at Harry.

"I did no such thing." Harry said at once. "I picked it up and put it on the couch between us."

Dudley was shaking his head. "No… No... No..."

"I picked it up, I swear!" Petunia's face had gone pale.

"Do you forget the rules here so quickly? Do you forget the laws of your own world so easily?" She asked in a deathly calm whisper. "Last chance...you ever use magic in this house again, ever...just once more, and you'll be gone just as quick as you can mutter a bloody spell." She turned on her heel and marched back out of the kitchen. Harry stared after her, mouth slightly agape. She had never used any of the actual words before, and Harry was astonished, he hadn't thought that they were even in her vocabulary. Dudley was not smirking like Harry expected him to be. He was staring at him in panic, and then suddenly realizing he was alone with him, fleeing as fast as his fat legs could carry him. Harry looked down at his hands, then at the remote lying a foot and a half away.

He closed his eyes, and imagined himself reaching out to pick it up, but purposely gripped one wrist with the other hand, so that he would not pick it up physically. He felt it slide into his hand easily. His eyes popped open. "Bloody Hell." He muttered, racing up to his room.

Professor Dumbledore,

I performed wand-less magic today, by accident. I don't know what to do. I performed it unconsciously, and my Aunt says that if I use it again that she'll kick me out. I need to learn how to control it. I need help, if I could get some. Thank you,

-Harry

He read it again to himself, wondering if he should explain just precisely what he had done, but then decided that it would have to do. Satisfied, he turned to tie it to Hedwig's leg, but realized that she was gone.

"Bloody hell." He repeated. He scrambled for his notebook, where Hermione had written her muggle telephone number and address years before, then raced down the stairs. He snatched the phone off its hook and called the number written.

"Hello?" A deep male voice picked up.

"Hi, I was wondering if I might talk to Hermione Granger?" He asked politely.

"Yes, just a moment, can I ask who's calling?" The man asked.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

A few minutes crawled by.

"Hello?" Hermione's confused voice picked up the phone.

"Hermione?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yes...Harry? Is it really you? But I thought that you weren't allowed to use the phone?" She said.

"I'm not. But this is important. Listen, I Just performed wand-less magic, and-" But Hermione cut him off.

"Oh Harry! That's wonderful! Oh my goodness...but that's so advanced..." She began.

"Yes, yes, problem is, I did it and I didn't know that I was doing it. And if I do it again, then my Aunt will kick me out. I need to learn how to control it. Has Hedwig showed up yet?" He said quickly.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago. Why?" She asked.

"I need you to write to Dumbledore for me, as I can't. Tell him to send me a book or something...I don't care; I just need something to teach me to control it. Please? I'd call...but...I doubt that would work somehow." Hermione laughed.

"Yes, somehow I don't think that's possible either."

"And muggle mail won't get to Hogwarts." He sighed.

"Alright Harry, I'm composing the letter right now...so what exactly did you do?"

"I levitated the remote onto the couch next to me...and Dudley saw...and... Yeah." Harry sighed again. "But then, I concentrated, and I did it again, but this time I summoned it. So, I know I can do it when I want, but...I don't want to do without knowing I'm doing it, see?"

"Ah, yes. I see. Well, I'm tying it to Hedwig now...he'll probably send you a note directly, but if not let me have the phone number at your Aunt and Uncle's so I'll be able to get in touch."

He gave it to her, and then thanked her profusely, and they said their goodbyes before hanging up. Harry moved and leaned his forehead against the wall, sighing once more.

"What are you doing?" Petunia's suspicious voice came from the end of the hall.

"Being tired. I'm not entirely sure I know how I lifted the remote." He told her slowly.

"Are you saying you're out of control?" She asked sharply.

"No, because I can do it purposely, but...I didn't do it purposely to get Dudley. It surprised me as much as it did him." He replied. Her lips compressed so tightly they were almost invisible.

"Get up in your room and don't come out for anything but meals until you've solved...yourself." She told him. "And you know what, I'll bring your meals up. You're allowed to use the toilet, but that's all. I catch you outside, or anywhere else for that matter, and you're done for." She followed him all the way up, and then closed the door smartly when he was inside.

He sat on the bed heavily.

"First day of damned summer, and I'm already locked up..." He told himself. "Bloody hell!" He cursed again. Then he stood up and paced his room, realizing how little it was doing for him, he pulled out his textbooks. He began re-reading his Charms textbook from the previous year: Adept Charms; Fifth Year. But reading all of the notes he'd wrote to himself during class, and notes to Ron and Hermione also, didn't make him feel any better. So he stood and went through his desk drawers, hoping to find something interesting to take his mind off of the fact that he was barricaded in his room for an indefinite amount of time.

He found something. A thick roll of parchment was in the smallest, most bottom drawer of his desk on the left side. He pulled them out, wondering what he could have possibly put in there. He saw that they were letters to Sirius; some were half-finished, some were done. There were replies in there too. He set them down carefully and leaned back in his chair. He covered his face with his hands...

He'd nearly put it from his mind. Sirius, his only real, true, actual parent that he had ever gotten a chance to know, was gone. Sure, he had Remus, but Remus was never really a fatherly figure, Remus had always been the mentor, the teacher, the one to go to when he had a problem with trying to figure something out intellectually, not emotionally. And Arthur Weasley had always been just an eccentric uncle; and then Dumbledore was the omniscient old grandfather that had too many grandchildren to pay enough attention to one in particular. No other person had even come close to being parental in any way; besides Mrs. Weasley...but that was motherly, which was an entirely different thing.

But Sirius had been like a dad, and a best friend, and a guide, and someone that was there to be anything Harry ever needed him to be. But he had fallen through the veil... he was gone. Harry hadn't let himself remember it, because in remembering it, he remembered how stupid he had been to fall for the Dark Lord's trick. He'd gone to save his best friend and godfather, and instead had led everyone he loved into a trap, and gotten the person he was bent on saving, killed.

He broke off of that train of thought angrily. He knew he'd screwed up, which was why this year; he was intent on taking the Occlumency lessons and beating Snape finally. He would learn to block Voldemort from his mind once and for all, so that nothing and no one would know what was inside his mind.

He leaned forward once more, flattened out the letters carefully, reverently, and began to read them, remembering all that he had shared with Sirius, and all that Sirius had helped him understand.

Author's Note: Okay, I know that it start's out slow...and that it's kinda weird...but it'll get better. By the way, this is probably going to be a long story, and stay slow for awhile, so if you're more into things that are fast and get to the point quick, i wouldn't continue. You'll just get bored.

Thanks, Review, tell me if I'm great or ifI suck. Thanks!