Disclaimer: I do not own The Pianist which is a biography of Wladyslaw Szpilman, a brilliant Jewish pianist who lived through World War Two. The book is a very intriguing and informative read with some touching parts, but on the whole rather too melancholy and tragic for my tastes. I have the feeling that for Harry, it may be a little too close for comfort.

A Magical Life:

By Preoperative

With love

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Rossetti, Remember

Chapter ONE

The Kitchen

Harry stumbled slightly as gravity was suddenly re-imposed upon him, arriving in the middle of a dark and completely empty Weasley kitchen.

"I am very glad that worked, Hedwig" Harry sighed quite audibly as his faithful owl fluttered from his arm, where she had rather quickly had to attach herself as it looked like her master would be leaving without her. She perched on Errol's, suspiciously Errol-free, roost.

Harry put the book he still held in his hand down on the kitchen counter with a thoughtful look, ignoring the annoyed scowl his owl was shooting him.

"I really should read that one day, Hedwig. Good literature, I hear" Harry flipped the cover absently and skimmed over the first chapter. His eyebrow rose so that it looked like it might almost fly off his face. Hedwig ignored him as he gently picked the book up, and threw it into the trash can (which snapped it from the air).

He shrugged off his rucksack with a sigh, feeling cheated out of a long journey. Everything had gone according to his plan, and while he wasn't complaining about it he still couldn't help but feel as if he had missed out on some grand adventure.

Originally Hermione had been most insistent that he should not, under any circumstances, try the Portus spell. But Harry had informed her that desperate situations called for desperate measures and the disappearance of the wards that had been protecting him since his parent's deaths was definitely a desperate situation.

She had reluctantly agreed, instructing him to practice the pronunciation, wand movements and thought process for the spell; seemingly convinced that he would be unable to perform it on his fist six attempts.

Harry allowed himself a small grin, well take that Hermione, a perfect portus spell, and on his first try to boot! His smile turned into a smirk as he imagined the look on his friends face when he told her. The look quickly disappeared as he thought back to the second just before the magic had pulled him away: the doorbell.

And what sane person visited number four Private Drive at Midnight on the eve of Harry Potter's birthday? No sane person. It seemed to him that he might not have had a second chance at casting the spell, and was suddenly very pleased to have gotten it right on the first attempt. He consciously stopped himself from thinking about the Dursley's.

The sound of a 'beep beep' alarm going off somewhere above his head banished the grim thoughts and he looked up at the ceiling with an amused smile. Vague voices could now be heard whispering, and Harry had to wonder at how the twins had ever managed to have any privacy with the walls so paper-thin and willing to carry the slightest sound.

He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down as more banging came from upstairs and the irate voice of Mrs Weasley joined the verbal fray. He heard her sudden shriek as if she was standing right next to him, and simultaneously heard the rest of the still sleeping house, awaken.

"HE'S COMING HERE? AND YOU DIDN'T SEE FIT TO TELL ME?"

Harry winced as footsteps thundered down the stairs as the meaning of the comment sunk in on everyone who had heard it (which composed of the entire Burrow).

He gallantly fought the urge to hide under the table.

"Harry, mate!" Ron came tumbling out of the narrow passageway first, quickly followed by a nervous looking Hermione who was shooting fearful looks behind her and a somewhat enraged, somewhat stunned Mrs Weasley.

Harry stood up with a grin and embraced his best friend with much macho thumping on the back before turning to the smaller brunette who was equally pleased to see him. He gave Hermione a warm, brotherly hug before becoming lost in Mrs Weasley's strongest embrace yet.

Molly pulled back finally and held Harry so she could have a good look at him. She shook her head exasperatedly and without another word bustled off to start up on some breakfast and tea.

More people began to shuffle into the kitchen and Harry was embraced by both the twins, Fleur, Bill and Charlie, Arthur, Remus, Tonks and Ginny.

Once the welcome's were over with, Mrs Weasley walked motherly up to him and handed him a pint sized mug of tea, which he was ordered to drink before coming back for more, and pushed towards a chair. The others had all managed to seat themselves around the table, leaving the position 'head of the table' for Harry.

He sat down slowly, eyes thoughtfully checking to see who was at the table and who was missing from The Burrow. He glanced up in surprise as Hedwig swept in to land on his outstretched arm. Ron let out a barking laugh that sounded rather a lot like Sirius, and Remus gave a gentle chuckle that reminded Harry far too much of the late Albus Dumbledore.

Harry gave himself a mental shake as he felt his face loose its colour.

As soon as he was seated properly he looked up to meet the waiting eyes of everyone else.

For a moment the expectation that was reflected in the different faces confused Harry. What was it that these people: friends and equals expected from him? He glanced away as he slowly felt the weight of Albus Dumbledore's death descend upon his shoulders, feeing them lower accordingly.

Molly's kind voice came from his left and he looked up to see her kind eyes smiling and encouraging him.

"Would you like to tell us how it you arrived here, Harry? None of the adults were informed of your arrival and it was certainly a shock for me to find out you were arriving tonight" as she said this she shot Ron and Hermione identical looks of disapproval, but finally returned her smiling gaze to Harry.

Harry looked at the trash-can, wondering if it would surrender The Pianist as evidence? A small puff of smoke curled from its lid and somehow Harry doubted it. Taking a steady breath he turned back to the faces all focused on him, ready to listen to what it was he had to say; whatever he had to say.

"Hermione, Ron and I have been planning this since the beginning of the holidays, Mrs Weasley. You see, when I left the Dursley's last year Prof…" he stumbled over the name before recovering "…Professor Dumbledore told both the Dursley's and me that the wards protecting me from Lord Voldemort would stop doing whatever they do when I came of age. And because we didn't think it would be a good idea for me to hang around the Dursley's for too long we decided that I needed a way to get here as quickly as possible"

Harry paused and sought out Hermione's eyes, giving her a small smirk that caused a look of confusion to momentarily cloud her face.

"The only ways I could think of being able to get here were Apparition, Broomstick or Portkey. Since I figured the Knightbus wouldn't be very reliable, what with Voldemort and all" everyone around the table nodded in agreement. Who would want to be travelling in a rickety old bus when there was a dangerous lunatic out looking for your blood?

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and picked up a butterbeer lid that was lying of the table.

'Portus!' With a small frown of concentration not un-similar to the look he had given The Pianist the bottle cap glowed the same blue before going still.

The adults at the table all gasped with widened eyes and Harry heard Fleur say 'Zat is 'eeligal, is it not?" to Bill. Tonks was looking mildly impressed with his wandsmanship and Remus had an unreadable look on his tired face. Fred and George were grinning ecstatically while Charlie was sending him a strangely knowing look. Ron and Hermione were looking smugly proud.

"I chose the portkey option, obviously." A small tittering of laugher swelled among his friends and Harry realised, somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that these people were looking at him or guidance, for understanding, for help. Somewhere along the way, just in the past five minutes, Harry had started acting like the brave, Gryffindoric hero he was supposed to be.

A felt a small condescending smirk curl on his lips, but hid it before any one else could see it.

Mrs Weasley was looking at the butterbeer lid appraisingly.

"So where will it take us then? Is it alright to touch? Does it have a time-set or password?" she asked as her fingers inched closer and closer to it. Harry was surprised by a suddenly clear image of first year Molly, a bundle of curiosity about all things magic. The mental image collided with one of Hermione when he had first met her, and he found himself smiling secretively.

"Yeah, the password is Kitchen. Because we're in a kitchen" he thought he heard one of the twins mutter 'inventive' from somewhere down the other end of the table, but couldn't be sure. "Oh, and it'll take you to the corner store down from my Aunt and Uncle's house. You can keep it if you want, I don't ever want to go near that place again…" he trailed off softly and silence descended upon the table.

Mrs Weasley shook her head and replaced the cap, her curiosity sated. None of the others saw Ginny's small hand delicately reach out and grab the lid, slipping it into her pyjama pocket.

After a few more seconds of the uncomfortable silence Harry found himself shifting so he had a better view of Remus. He wanted to know what his father's last surviving friend thought of the trick. As he met Remus's eyes the amber-eyed werewolf rose one eyebrow delicately and mouthed one word: 'Impressive'. A commotion down the end of the table made all heads turn towards Fred and George, who it seemed had just realised that this all meant it was Harry's birthday.

Loud cheering broke out and 'Happy Birthday's' were passed along to Harry, who floundered for a moment before a huge smile blossomed on his lips as his friends mobbed him with congratulations on his coming of age.

Harry felt that his day could not get any better.

To be continued…