He didn't know what to do with himself. He paced in his room. He sat on his bed. He let Hedwig fly around inside. Uncle Vernon had somehow reinforced the bars on his windows and the locks on his door. Harry waited to receive word from Lupin regarding any Order business Harry could help with, but he hadn't gotten anything yet. He thought for a moment that Aunt Petunia had a box stuffed under her bed full of envelopes addressed to Harry. He still couldn't believe she spoke about Lily.
"I was happy for Lily, mind you. I just couldn't believe that our parents doted on her for it. I was just as special. I was just as intellectual and good at what I did as she," Aunt Petunia had said one day after Uncle Vernon left for work. Dudley was always too entranced by his new computer and the many magical websites he hacked into to pay her any mind. He found one site where people would write about his cousin, Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived. Dudley took a special fascination to this one, because it allowed him to review their stories and call Harry every name in the book. Two ways to think himself superior to that freak show for a cousin. One, make him feel like crap at home; two, make him feel like crap in front of the World Wide Web.
Harry found himself without parchment or ink once again. To ask Uncle Vernon was guaranteed hunger for at least two days. Vernon Dursley didn't particularly appreciate the threats he received the day Harry came home from Hogwarts. He didn't care how he treated Harry. Those people were not about to step foot in his house, he was sure. "They wouldn't dare, Petunia. Once they see my Winchester, they will run like the cowardly freaks they are," he told her the afternoon they got back from King's Cross.
What Uncle Vernon was not taking into consideration, was the fact that those "freaks" had seen worse than the likes of Vernon Dursley. They have been toe to toe with some of the most lethal folk this side of the Atlantic. One fat man with bad aim and a dusty gun wasn't a match.
Harry went back to riffling through his trunk. He came across a very small piece of parchment and only a dab of ink. But it was enough to write out five words. "Send parchment and ink. Harry." He took the note and tied it around Hedwig's leg before realizing that she could not get out the window to deliver it. He sulked back to the edge of his bed. Just about the time he was about to give up hope, he heard a large crack outside his room. He could hear Aunt Petunia scream downstairs and a knock on his door.
"Harry? You in there?"
"Tonks? What are you doing here?" He asked as he strode to the door and leaned against it to hear.
"Dumbledore is on his way. He wanted me to scout out and make sure you were alright. Alohomora!" With that the door flew open knocking Harry back and down to the floor.
"Sorry," Tonks said as she reached over to help him up. Just then, the door bell rang. Harry held his breath as he listened to the voices below.
"Yes, what do you want?" That was Uncle Vernon.
"Hello. Mr. Dursley, I presume?" Harry knew that voice and his spirit seemed to lift immediately.
"Yes, yes. If you came here, then you must know who I am. What do you want?"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have come to collect Mr. Potter."
Uncle Vernon put his fists on the infinitesimally small ledge of hips that barely hung out from under his enormous belly. "He is not here."
"Yes, I am." Harry answered indignantly from the top of the stairs much to Uncle Vernon's rage.
"He will not be going back, Mr. Dumbledore. He already has my wife talking this filth as if that were possible. She has been poisoned by the crazy rubbish!" Uncle Vernon kept wagging his finger in Dumbledore's face. "And if any of you weirdos come back here, I'll call the Scotland Yard!"
"We have connections there, as I'm sure you must realize," he said then turned to Harry. "Get your things, Harry. We have to make a few stops along the way back. We must hurry."
"I have them, Headmaster. Harry's all packed and ready to go," Tonks said as she emerged from the corner of the upstairs hallway, Harry's trunk in tow floating behind her.
"Where the devil did you come from?" Vernon exclaimed. "And what in blazes is wrong with your hair?" He narrowed his beady eyes and took a longer look. "Oh, you're one of them. I should've known. Get out! The lot of you! And take that ungrateful orphan with you! Never show your faces here again!"
Harry took the most gracious offer to leave in stride and left with Professor Dumbledore and Tonks behind him.
"Good day to you, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said as he tipped his limp wizard's hat.
"Whatever," Vernon replied slamming the door in their faces.
It was silent. Professor Dumbledore was concentrating on the street lights as Tonks kept her eye on the alleyways. Harry wasn't sure where they were going. He was almost afraid to ask. It seemed every time he left the Dursleys', there was something either intriguing or frightening about to happen. His first year he was proclaimed a famous wizard. His second year, he was rescued by a bunch of redheads in a flying car. His third year was a bit more normal if you consider a hot air balloon that somewhat resembles your uncle's sister floating around the house normal. His forth year he was plagued by pain from his scar that only led up to the second rising of his arch nemesis, Lord Voldemort. His fifth year he found himself being picked up by a band of wizards for his own protection. This year Dumbledore himself came to bring Harry out of bondage. He considered this for a moment. What could possibly be out there that Dumbledore felt it necessary to be Harry's escort? The answer frightened Harry as it well should have. This year would be no different from the others. This year he would experience evil even closer than before. This year would prove to be Harry Potter's most problematic so far…and most dangerous.