DISCLAIMER: I do not own any J K Rowling's characters, situations or ideas. I am simply playing in her imagination.

Coming Of Age

Harry looked up at the night sky and sighed. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It read the same time it did last time he checked, 11:57.

'Will those umbers ever change?' he thought desperately. Hr cast his mind aside and looked at the haphazard mess that was his bedroom. This summer with the Dursleys had proved even more traumatizing than last, 'and,' he thought grimly, he was only too eager to vent his frustrations on his room.

The Dursleys upon picking him up at the train station, made it clear that they were only too willing to throw him out of the house as soon as he turned of age. However, the smirks on both Dudley and Uncle Vernon's faces were wiped off in record time when Petunia said in a wobbly voice,

"You can come round any time you like, Harry. Remember that." Harry had been if not more flummoxed than Uncle Vernon and Dudley by Aunt Petunia's strange comment. It was not just the comment though, for the remainder of Harry's time with the Dursleys, Petunia had been more than willing to cater to Harry's needs. She even let him raid the food cupboard, leaving Harry very confused. This continued until two days before Harry's birthday. Harry had been sitting in his room, reading 'Quidditch through the ages' for what felt like the hundredth time, when Uncle Vernon called him down to the living room.

"sit." Uncle Vernon gestured at the frilly chair in the corner, "we need to have a word with you boy." He brought himself up to his full height as Harry sat down.

"Now," he said flexing his hands threateningly, "what have you done to her?" while uncle Vernon kept his voice clam and low, Harry could plainly see the vein throbbing in his temple.

"Done what?" said Harry blankly.

"Changed her! Made her your slave! What have you done to her!" and with that, uncle Vernon pointed over to petunia sitting on the settee by the window.

"You're mad, you're all bloody mad," said Harry, getting up.

"Oh no you don't sonny Jim! You're not leaving until you tell me what you have done to her!" uncle Vernon's face was fast turning purple, his chest swelling like a balloon inflating.

"I don't know what the bloody hell you're on about. I'm only here for a couple more days. Now leave me alone!" Harry crossed the threshold and was just making his way up the stairs when petunia said quietly,

"wait." All heads swiveled over to her.

"Harry, sit back down. I will explain everything." Harry slowly turned and walked back over to the chair and sat down, eying petunia boldly.

"Vernon, you too. I don't want any shouting." For a minute, uncle Vernon looked like he was going to refuse and hurry off to get his gun. But the next minute, he was sitting down beside Petunia with incredulity awash all over his face.

"Petunia my dear, what's going o-"

"Now, you might have realized that I have been acting somewhat oddly this summer." Petunia murmured, cutting off Uncle Vernon.

"Well, you see, I've always not shown my affection for my nephew outwardly." Uncle Vernon made a snorting noise, which caused petunia to look sharply at him.

"Yes, Vernon, I do care for him. Not that I like you and your abnormality." She added throwing a disdainful look at Harry.

"It's natural, I'm his aunt. A blood relative, of course I love him deep down…" she trailed off, looking again at Harry with yet more disdain.

"…very deep down. Dumbledore filled me in on the night that you were put on our doorstep, that by taking you in, we were keeping you safe." Dudley who had been quietly edging into the room froze,

"Dudders, back to your room. This doesn't concern you sweetie." Dudley reproachfully waddled back out of the living room, and upstairs. Petunia continued,

"you must of realized that we must of felt something for you, otherwise we wouldn't have taken you in. even though they had become people that we didn't want to, nor plan to associate with, we thought that maybe you would not have the same defect, the same abnormality." Harry started, and got up on his feet at this. Vernon too, got up, and forced Harry back down into his chair.

"Continue dear"

"Thank you Vernon. As I was saying, we were wrong. You got that letter and got sent of to that awful school, just as she had done. I guess what I am saying is that, well, as soon as you turn 17. You...you… might….well, not be safe anymore. I thought that if you were going to go, I might as well try and make up for some lost affection." She finished lamely.

The whole living room was in shock. Dudley who had edged back into the room was as white as a ghost. Uncle Vernon kept on throwing nervous glances at Harry. Harry himself sat stock still in his chair, continuing to look directly at his aunt. Only petunia was calm, and after a few awkward minutes, she said;

"Well would anyone like any tea?" she got up and bustled into the kitchen with Dudley in tow, a pack of cigarettes clearly sticking out of his back pocket.

"Up, up, up to bed Harry," and when he didn't move, uncle Vernon yelled, "NOW!"

And so Harry had spent the remainder of his holidays in his room, avoiding all of the Dursley family members.

As his eyes swept his surroundings, he walked over to his desk drawer.

"Just one more time," he reasoned with himself, "what could one more do to you?" with this, he opened the draw with shaking fingers, prized up the fake bottom and picked up the wizard photo. Only last year it was the pride of his mantle-piece at school, but after what happened, he hid it away. Sadly, he looked at his smiling face, waving happily at him. He had his arm around her; she was waving too, but would sometimes just look at his photo-self. Harry tore his eyes away from the photo and gently put it back in its dusty prison. Like every other time after seeing the photo, he anxiously worried whether she has moved on or not, 'after all,' he thought, 'she is the type to do so… and I was the one who broke it off with her…'

A beeping noise brought him out of his reverie, he glanced at the clock, it read 12:00. Harry smiled, for what felt like the first time in moths, he was finally of age. This feeling was quickly replaced by an all-encompassing fear. The magical protection that had been there since his arrival at the Dursleys had lifted. It was strange, he thought, he didn't feel any different. But Harry knew that he was no longer safe. Luckily, the order of the phoenix has a couple of tricks up their sleeves, at least enough to keep him safe for a few more hours.

He was just about to close his window when 3 owls flew in; the first dropped its letter at his feet and ruffled its feathers importantly. It was a post owl, no doubt hired by Hermione to deliver her card and present. He paid the owl 2 Knuts and it flew out the window, becoming smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a speck.

Harry opened Hermione's letter eagerly, smiling to himself as he finished. They wouldn't admit it to him yet, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were finally a couple. Her letter alluded to this, talking a great deal about Ron before moving on to the subject of his birthday. He unwrapped his gift and groaned; it was a S.P.E.W. bag and pencils. Sadly, over the holidays, Hermione had managed to rustle up some actual supporters and now, they had merchandise. Harry deftly threw his present into the bin, and with the expertise of a gifted seeker, snatched a very small owl out of the air.

"Hey pig, lets see what Ron's got me," he murmured as he shoved the owl onto Hedwig's cage. As he opened the letter, he felt some trepidation arise within him. Ron had been less than understanding when he broke the news to him that he and his little sister were no longer together. Ron had flown into a rage and ignored both Harry and Ginny's pleas for mercy, demanding to know what was wrong with her and why he, Harry thought he was too good for his little sister.

Harry had to explain the whole mess to him, and when he was done, Ron moodily kicked his bed and muttered,

"Noble bloody prick." Thankfully though, Ron had lost his homicidal tendencies after that, and Harry was looking forward to visiting The Burrow soon.

Harry skimmed his letter quickly, noting that Ron too, had devoted a large section of his letter to Hermione. Thinly veiled with exasperation, was Ron's badly disguised true feelings. Harry snorted at the comical antics of his two best friends. Ron had not included a present, mysteriously saying in the bottom-most right corner (the only space in which he had not waffled on about Hermione) that his present was awaiting his at The Burrow.

Harry placed both cards on his mantle-piece, next to an odd looking lumpy sock-like thing. In reality, it was the invitation to Bill and Fleur's wedding Harry had smothered it in one of Uncle Vernon's more ugly socks, a musty puke yellow colored thing. The invitation itself was written on the most delicate white tissue paper, the gold letters changing from English to French every few minutes. It was truly a beautiful and tasteful letter. (Not to mention pungent, as fleur seemed to have insisted on spraying every last inch of it with her most sickly smelling perfume.) When Harry first received it, it sang softly in French. While he enjoyed the music for the first few hours, he eventually stomped on top of it at 3 am, in a desperate bid to make it stop singing. This had only intensified the sound, and at the roar of Uncle Vernon's voice, Harry had hurriedly stuffed it into the nearest sock, muffling the noise.

Harry turned and looked at the third owl curiously; Hagrid has already sent his birthday present two weeks prior. (It was his worst yet, rock cakes and a frilly framed photo of the last remaining Skrewt, easily 15 feet long.)

Harry took the envelope from the owl and turned it over, breaking the seal.

Dear Harry,

The secondary protection has been activated. Molly and Arthur will pick you up at 2pm tomorrow as the protection ends.

I TRUST THAT YOU HAVE INFORMED YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE ON ALL OF THIS.

Yours Sincerely,

Remus Lupin

P.S: Happy Birthday.

Harry grimaced at the prospect of telling his Aunt and Uncle about his plans, and the danger he had unknowingly put them in.

Ever since the start of the holidays, he had been getting a continuous flood of letters from the order of the phoenix, informing him about mew protection spells that were being cast over him, pleading notes from Mrs. Weasley to reconsider and finish school, and repeated questions on what Dumbledore was doing with him before he died. Harry had already received 5 letters and one more visit from the minister of magic asking him this same question. Harry had refused to answer any of his questions, sending the minister into a rage, who told his what was fast becoming his mantra, "you are Dumbledore's man through and through!" on the other hand, Harry was more than happy to answer any and all questions about Snape, as long as it was helping or aiding his capture. Harry's heart burned at the thought of Snape. 'That loatheful, slimy coward,' he thought, 'he killed him, killed him. He didn't even have a wand, he was weak, he couldn't even defend himself!' Harry just hoped that Voldemort would punish Snape for killing Dumbledore, as far as Harry knew; his specific wishes were for Malfoy to do the job.

'Malfoy…' Harry remembered that night, how Malfoy had lowered his wand, his panicked voice repeating,

"He'll kill me!" but still, Malfoy was a death eater through and through. He was the enemy. But maybe when Harry met him, he would show him mercy. After all, it was only fear that made him become a death eater in the first place.

Lying back down on his bed, Harry thought miserably, for the umpteenth time, how he could possibly beat Voldemort, even if he managed to destroy all of his horcruxes, Voldemort was a much better wizard, much more cunning, and much more ruthless than Harry. Voldemort was right, thought Harry; it was only pure luck that saved him all of those times. Not next, though. I will find a way… and with that thought, Harry rolled over and went to sleep.