Chapter One

Endless Summer

She saw the boy sitting on a swing in the park. He looked lonely and sad. The sky was grey and darkness was coming on. She had noticed him often sitting there since she moved to Privet Drive. This young man with the tousled, dark hair tugged on her heartstrings. Determined, Jordan decided to go over to him and see if she could help.

"Are you alright?" Jordan sat on a swing next to him. He didn't look up at first, but finally, he realized someone was there.

"Oh, erm—yeah, yes, thank you. I'm fine."

She noticed a jagged scar on his head and instantly felt that something terrible must have happened to him at one time. "I'm Jordan. I just moved here."

"You're—you're American!" His voice rose as if he'd never heard an American speak before.

"Yes, I'm a writer, here to give some lectures on my books. I'm renting a house down the street for the next few weeks. You must live around here, right? I see you here almost every time I take my walk."

"Oh, yes, number 4—I live at Number 4. Harry—I mean, I'm Harry Potter." He shook her hand and felt his stomach do a flip. Her eyes were a deep blue and they seemed to sparkle as the moon began to rise. Was she a witch? Her hair was dark brown and cascaded down her back. She was older than he was—he could tell that right off. But never had anyone spoken to him in all the nights of all the summers he'd spent with the Dursleys, his aunt, uncle and cousin who he lived with and who reluctantly promised to take care of him after his parents were killed by the dark Lord Voldemort. Well, his cousin Dudley and his rodent friends all took turns hitting him, kicking him and tripping him whenever they had the chance. Each summer, it became increasingly harder and harder to stay there and he had just been contemplating disobeying the promise he made to his school headmaster—Professor Dumbeldore—to stay with the Dursleys just this one last summer…and then she arrived. She might be worth sticking around.

"What's wrong?" Jordan noticed he became quiet and just stared.

"N-nothing…I'm sorry. You-you just appeared, I mean, I never saw you before."

"I really didn't appear. The street is so quiet, and I lose myself writing sometimes, so I like to go out for a walk. Normally, it's around this time and I see you almost every time I do. Well, you looked so sad today…" Jordan didn't finish. Truth was, boy or not, he had an underlying sense of maturity, like he'd seen so much already he might as well have been a man. "Do you want to walk with me? I'll understand if you don't."

"No," Harry said almost too quickly. He absent-mindedly tried to smooth his black hair, straightened his glasses and fixed his shirt all as he jumped from the swing. "I'd like that."

Jordan weaved around a puddle and they turned from Privet Drive to Magnolia Road, both silent. She wanted to ask him what was wrong and didn't know why she was nosing into his business. So she kept quiet.

"Do you like it here?" He finally asked, hands in his jeans pockets.

"Yes, I do. I miss America, though. What about you? Do you like it here? Have you always lived here?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He hated living with the Dursleys, but didn't want her to feel sorry for him. Still, he didn't want to lie either. "Well, no, honestly, I don't. I have lived here as long as I can remember, but I go away to school so that helps. My-my parents died when I was young and I was sent here to live with my aunt and uncle."

Jordan stopped, "I'm so sorry, Harry. Really I am."

Tears nearly came to his eyes, so surprised he was by this stranger's kindness and sincerity. Her face was flawless, porcelain and those eyes were boring into him. The precipitation made her hair curl up a bit, not quite as curly as his best friend, Hermione, but in beautiful, messy waves. She was slim, but not skinny and she wore a t-shirt that fit her really well. "It's alright. I didn't know them, but people who did told me a lot about them, so I feel I knew them."

"Well, that's good. I thought maybe that's why you were so upset back at the park."

Harry looked down. His temper tantrum earlier when Uncle Vernon slapped Harry after dinner (causing him to run out of the house), must have still been visible on his face when he was sitting on the swing. He wanted to kill Uncle Vernon. It had been a ridiculous argument, just one more time the Dursleys made Harry feel unloved and unwelcome. Why it continued to bother him after all this time, he didn't know. But as he grew older and felt a little more confident about his abilities and power, he came closer and closer to disobeying the rules with no cares about consequence.

"No, I—well, it's a long story really."

"This is me." Jordan gestured to a small brick house with a short driveway and white shutters. "Would you like some tea?"

His heart raced. She was inviting him inside. This beautiful woman was asking him to come into her house. "Yes."

"Well, come on in." Unlocking the door and turning on the lights, she put out her hand to welcome him inside. Boxes were pushed up against the walls, some still filled with books and linens, others empty, waiting to be broken down and put against the curb.

Her living room was an elegant blue and yellow, with china he imagined a king and queen to have lined in a cherry hutch in the corner. He eyed the staircase and blushed when he thought her bedroom must be up there. She didn't seem to notice though and took off her denim jacket and said over her shoulder, "Make yourself at home, Harry. I'll be right back."

He smiled as he sat down; thinking that Ron would be green with envy, if he knew this older woman had taken a fancy to Harry. Hermione and Ron were a couple now, but this was something different. Jordan had to like him. Why would she invite him inside?

She soon came back out with a tray. On it were two mugs of steaming tea and a plate of cookies. He took a mug, smiled at her and then she sat opposite him in a large off-white chair. "So, Harry, tell me about school. What grade are you in?"

"I graduate this year."

"Congratulations!"

He smiled, "Thanks! I can't wait, really, but I love my school. It's really been my home over the past seven years."

"Seven years? Is it a boarding school?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cookie. Harry washed the bite down with tea and then began to tell her as much as he could about Hogwarts without revealing that it was a school for witches and wizards. "I am also the captain of the school Quid—um, football team."

"You? Really?" Jordan thought this boy was too slender to be head of a football team, but then remembered she was in Europe where football was equivalent to soccer. "That's right…fantastic. You must be very fast."

Harry stifled a laugh as he was the fastest flier the school had seen in a hundred years. He knew she wasn't talking about broomsticks, though. "Yes, I am. I may even go professional, if a team will have me."

"Wow!"

Harry noticed the clock on her fireplace mantle and knew he had to leave before Uncle Vernon locked him out of the house. He wanted to send Hedwig with a note to the Burrow, Ron's house, to let him know about Jordan. "Miss Taylor…"

Jordan laughed, "Jordan…"

"Right, Jordan. I have to go. I'm sorry, I'd like to stay, but they lock the door to my house in a few minutes and I'll get stuck outside all night."

"Do they?" She was indignant. "Really? That's abuse!"

"It's alright. I mean, I'm alright, I'm fine. Well, thanks for the tea and cookies, and the talk."

"Take care, Harry."

Harry ran home and slipped inside just as Uncle Vernon closed the door. Neither spoke to the other, Harry patting his pocket as if he would draw his magic wand any moment, then went to his bedroom and locked the door.

He pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment and wrote a note to his best friend, Ron. The red-haired Weasleys were the closest to family he ever had--except for Ron's sister Ginny, whom he grew to like very much last school year. He hoped that when his final meeting with Lord Voldemort, the most powerful of the Dark wizards, was over, that he and Ginny could begin to see each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. But was there a chance for him to see this woman? She must have been in her late 20s. She couldn't have been any older than that. There wasn't that great an age difference…

"Quiet, Hedwig!" He hissed to his white owl, who was flapping her wings, eager to get out and fly. "If Uncle Vernon catches you, he'll make sure he has you for dinner!"

Harry watched Hedwig fly toward the moon, which was nearly full, with his letter to Ron. Then Harry took off his glasses and put a hand to the jagged scar on his forehead. The scar throbbed constantly since his last run in with Voldemort—or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as everyone else called him. It was as if he had a perpetual headache. Closing his eyes, he imagined Jordan Taylor, and telling her his secrets. It would feel good to tell someone who was muggle-born.

Chapter Two

Time for Truth

When Harry awoke, sat up in bed, stretched and then put on his glasses, he wanted to jump up and head out to find Jordan Taylor immediately. What had hit him so hard? He remembered feeling cold and clammy when he first really looked at Cho Chang, the Gryffindor House Quidditch Chaser, during his fourth year at Hogwarts. Then his stomach did flips and his vision became blurry when he suddenly realized in his sixth year that he had feelings for Ron's younger sister Ginny. Ginny always had a crush on "the famous Harry Potter" as most girls at the school did. His scar, his constant brushes with death and disaster and the most recent title of "Chosen One" had certainly earned him a fan club, but mostly Harry was a shy teenager.

But Harry couldn't get Jordan Taylor out of his mind. Did he have a chance with her? She was a foreigner, seemed very lonely and grateful for his company. He only had a few weeks left before he returned to Hogwarts (his bags had been packed already for days), so he felt he had nothing to lose if he showed up at Jordan's door that night.

He stayed in his room all day, waiting for word from Ron. Hermione was probably already at the Burrow, especially now that they were a couple. That irked him more each time he thought of it. He didn't begrudge either of them happiness—he just felt very odd man out knowing they were boyfriend and girlfriend like they would have secrets that he could never understand.

Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen when Harry came downstairs. He had changed from his pajamas into jeans and a t-shirt, and said nothing to her or to his fat cousin Dudley, who was munching away on bacon and eggs when Harry appeared. He preferred if the entire family thought he would snap at a moment's notice, just as he had when he blew up his Uncle's sister to the size of a small blimp a couple of years before. The only person in the family who didn't seem to care if he was miserable to Harry was Uncle Vernon himself. It didn't matter that Professor Dumbledore had warned Vernon that he would be watched if he continued his abuse of Harry.

"Good morning, Harry." Petunia said, forcing herself to smile.

"Mornin'." Harry turned around with two pieces of toast and a slice of bacon on a paper towel, and went back to his room. Hedwig was waiting on Harry's bed (he had left the window open) when he arrived. Eagerly, he untied the parchment from Hedwig's leg and gave him the rest of the bacon. Hedwig zoomed back into his cage after nipping his owner's hand lightly.

Harry:

Wow! An older woman! How old is she? Is she really that beautiful? Tell me, mate—are you going to talk to her again? Let me know all the details. We're having a good time here and can't wait until you arrive. Hermione says hi—okay, everyone does. I won't tell Ginny about Miss Taylor. She'll be upset. See you soon! Ron

Harry smiled. He knew Ron'd be impressed. He spent the afternoon reading up on Quidditch, the Wizarding game that included a seeker (himself) trying to find the golden snitch while Chasers get the Quaffle through one of the 3 hoops for points, as Keepers throw dangerous Bludgers at players on the opposite team. When it started to get dark, Harry skipped supper and headed outside. She said she usually walked around 8:00pm, so he wanted to be sure she was in her house, writing, when he arrived.

He had tried to comb his unruly hair. He had washed up, shaved and changed from his t-shirt into a white button down shirt, the kind he wore at Hogwarts. He felt he looked pretty good, but was still nervous enough not to have an appetite. All afternoon, it had been nagging at him that she might have a boyfriend. She could tell him to leave or be angry at his presumptuousness.

He turned down Magnolia Road and tried to steady his breathing. It wasn't raining anymore, but it was still quite humid and he didn't want to get to her house all sweaty. One light was on upstairs and he smiled, knowing somehow that she was writing.

"Hold on!" She called, coming down the stairs after he knocked.

She opened the door, and then smiled when she saw Harry. "Harry Potter!"

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, I could use a break. Would you like to come in now that you're here?"

He looked down, wanting to scream in joy, but taking a deep breath instead. "Unless you'd like to walk first?"

She didn't answer, but instead grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall, closed the door behind them and headed toward the park. Without even realizing it, he took her hand and steered her the other way. "No, this way, if it's okay. I don't want to go near my house."

Jordan was startled that he touched her hand, "Oh, okay, sure." She let him hold on, not sure what was happening.

They strode in silence. Harry was in heaven. He was holding her hand; something that he hadn't even done before except with Hermione but that didn't count. Oh, and he thought he might have with Luna Lovegood once at a holiday party the previous year thrown by Professor Slugworth.

"Harry…" Jordan began quietly.

His heart jumped, "Yes?"

"I am a writer, you know…"

"Yes, you told me. How is it coming?"

"Good, thanks. Being a writer makes me good at research."

He was wary now. "Yes…"

"Harry, I read your parents died a very violent death. Did you know that?"

He dropped her hand and stopped walking, "How did you…?"

"It was strange, when I moved into the house, on a top shelf of one of the closets upstairs was a newspaper that I had never heard of. It was called The Daily Prophet. I didn't do much with it since I've been so busy. This afternoon I decided to look at it."

Harry felt dizzy for a moment. How did she—a Muggle—get hold of a wizard newspaper? Did the pictures move for her? Did she have witch blood in her? Many people did. It was common knowledge that wizards and witches walked among regular people and many children only found out they could do magic when they received the letter they were to report for school at Hogwarts—Harry among them.

There was a park bench nearby and so he went to it and sat down heavily on it. "Go on."

Jordan sat down next to him, "I read something about your parents being killed when you were very young—by some mass murderer. It talked about a scar—there, on your forehead. That scar." Jordan touched the scar and it seared with pain.

Harry doubled over, touching his head. What was going on?

"Harry! Harry! What's the matter? My God, I'm sorry." She stood up, looking around, unsure whether she should go to find help. "Are you alright?"

The pain was subsiding and he surreptitiously wiped his watering eyes. It had to be a coincidence. Memories perhaps, memories needing to be siphoned off into a pensieve, memories threatening to overflow. He let her touch his shoulders, help him to straighten up. She had kneeled down in front of him. "I'm okay. Just-just a headache."

"I'd better go. I shouldn't have brought it up."

He held on to her arms. "No, really, I'm okay."

"It's true then?"

"Yes, it is. He tried to kill me, but only left me with the scar."

"You must have been in the hospital for a long time to get a scar like that."

Harry only nodded. She obviously didn't know everything. She didn't know that the scar hurt Lord Voldemort more than him. The scar now was his warning that the dark lord was nearby.

"Come on, Harry." Jordan didn't like how pale he looked. "Come back to my house for some tea."

They walked along in silence back to her small, brick house. Jordan felt terrible for having put the boy through so much pain. It was truly none of her business—but she was confused by what was in the newspaper and thought maybe he could shed some light on what the words she read meant. Muggle…Hogwarts…Imperious Curse…Dark Mark.

Harry felt as good as new by the time Jordan gave him the cup of tea, but he let her fuss over him. She was stunning in her black turtleneck and long skirt. She could have passed for a seventh year herself. He wondered if he should tell her. He knew it was breaking the very wizarding laws that separated the Muggles from the Wizards, but somehow, he wanted to be honest with her, gain her confidence.

"Jordan?"

"Yes? Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thanks. I-um, I wondered if I could show you something."

She finished fixing her tea and sat across from him. "Sure."

He took the wand out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of him. His hands were trembling and he saw the confused look on her face. "Lumos!".

She gasped as the end of the wand grew bright with light."That's amazing!" She beamed. "How did you do that?"

"I learned it in school. Accio Sugar!" He said next and the sugar bowl came flying at him. Jordan jumped back out of her chair when she saw that particular move and he couldn't help but laugh. She must have felt the way he did the first time he saw Hagrid perform his magic in front of Harry and the Dursleys that day so long ago in the rock hut.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Magic, Jordan. There's something I want to tell you."