Hello everybody! I really enjoyed your pregnancy stories last week, so thanks! The one I planned on sharing really wasn't that great compared to yours, but I'll tell you anyway: when my mom was pregnant with me, she had these sympathy cravings for pomegranates. They were pretty much all she ate for those nine and a half months, but her liking for them ended there. She hasn't had them since. I always thought it was funny how much she detests them now- a few times, I've tried to sneak them into her food (a couple of seeds inside an omelet, buried under lasagna, etc.), but she's always caught me before she ate them. Weird, no?

Thank you sooooooooo much to IamSiriusgrl for being my 200th reviewer! You rock even harder than pregnant people!

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be bathing in Franklins right about now.

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Lily hurried back upstairs, tripping over a stray kumquat as she ran, and rushed back into Petunia's room.

"What do you want no-" but she stopped herself mid-sentence. Petunia had fallen asleep again.

Lily was about ready to rip her hair out and feed that to Petunia, but instead, she gathered a mop from the kitchen and cleaned up her sister's mess. Sighing, she put the mop back in the broom closet and wandered back into the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table, finishing his banana, and gazing out the window. Lily started to fix the cupboards that lay in disarray due to her food-searching frenzy.

"Need some help?" Harry offered kindly.

Lily turned to him and smiled. "No, thanks. Are you still hungry?" She gestured to the banana peel lying at his elbow.

Harry shrugged. "Not really."

"Well, let me at least make you some toast or something." Lily glanced at her watch. "Gods, it's already 7:30!" She exclaimed.

Harry smiled grimly. "I guess time flies when you're running around slaving after a mad pregnant woman."

Lily laughed and sniggered. Harry really was a lot like James. James, too, had had that wry, sarcastic sense of humor. Lily had trouble believing that she had used to hate that about him. It was amazing how quickly she had grown to love it, and then long for it when he was gone.

Harry had so few reasons to laugh anymore, and such tiny opportunities to smile. It seemed that the Dursleys, who had previously been a source of pain and torment towards him, had become an object of his amusement. As much as she was relieved, Lily was also concerned by this. It was her guess that Harry had faced such worse anguish from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, that the Dursleys didn't even seem like a threat anymore compared to them. Yet, it made sense. The worst the Dursleys could do to Harry was to take away his magical equipment and lock him in the cupboard. The worst that Voldemort had done to Harry was taking away Sirius.

Sirius was another subject that bothered Lily. Harry hadn't shown any real signs of grieving over his godfather. Anyone would be upset if their parent-figure had been taken away from them in such a harsh manner. So why was it that Harry hadn't said anything about it to her yet? It wasn't that Lily wanted her son to break down, or anything; she just wanted to make sure that he felt something. Dumbledore had told her once after James' death that her ability to feel made her human. Lily wanted- no, she needed to know that Harry was still human, as foolish as she felt thinking those words.

But when she thought about it, Harry's reluctance to open up made sense. What sensible boy would reveal his innermost feelings to his aunt's housekeeper?

A pop interrupted Lily's thoughts. She realized that Harry's toast was done. She quickly removed the bread slices from the toasters and laid them on a plate on the table, along with some butter and jam. Harry thanked her, and began to eat. When he finished, he wiped his hands on a napkin and carried the plate over to the sink. The clock on the Dursleys' kitchen wall now read 8:00.

"So, Harry, what do you have planned for the day?" Lily asked him as she took the plate from his hands, and lowered it into the dishwasher.

Harry hesitated. "Oh, I dunno. I thought I'd go outside and do some homework."

Lily nodded. "Do your teachers give you a lot over the summer?" It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

"Not really." Harry paused again, obviously nervous about the subject of his school.

"Alright, well, I'll call you in when lunch is ready. Or when Petunia goes on the rampage again. Either way, you'll be the first to know." Lily joked.

Harry laughed again, and disappeared into his cupboard. He reappeared with a handful of schoolbooks and a sack, which Lily assumed contained parchment and a quill. Harry noticed her watching him, and covered one of the book covers with his arm. Lily had just enough time to get a glimpse of the title- The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 5. Harry flushed, and opened the screen door that led to the backyard. Lily frowned at Harry's carelessness. If she were a real Muggle, she would have been suspicious. But she smiled and nodded at him anyway, pretending that she didn't see it, and went back to the dishwasher.

o-o

Harry had been lying in the cool grass, doing homework for about half an hour, and was not making much progress. He guessed that it probably would have been easier if he were sitting on that too-comfortable armchair in Gryffindor Tower with Hermione helping him and Ron struggling alongside.

Smiling at the thought of his friends, Harry glanced back down at his book. He was currently doing History of Magic. Question fourteen asked, "Describe the role of Uric the Oddball in the discovery of the Fwooper song's negative effect on the human psyche." Harry remembered reading something about this in one of his books, and for some reason, the image of Uric the Oddball in a toupee came to mind. He was about to check his bag for said book when he heard the distant, yet all familiar screech of an owl. Hedwig.

The snowy owl came swooping down towards Harry when she spotted him in the backyard. Harry quickly looked to see if Tabitha had been watching, but she was nowhere in sight. He reached out his arm, and Hedwig flew onto it and perched. She dropped a scroll of parchment onto the grass beside him, allowed him to stroke her feathers a few times, and flew off again.

Glad for the excuse to get away from his homework for the time being, Harry unscolled the letter. Immediately, the neat handwriting told him that it was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I'm writing this from the airport terminal in Switzerland. My parents have decided to take me on that skiing trip that I missed over the winter break.

I hope you're doing well. Ron owled me, and told me about the incident with your bedroom ceiling. Are you all right? You must have gotten in horrible trouble for that! I mean, you've already had several incidents with performing magic during the summer, so the Ministry must be furious by now! Of course, it's possible that they'll want to go easier on you now that they've acknowledged Voldemort's return. Either way, I want you to keep me posted on any news. Given, this wasn't as huge as the dementor episode last summer, but if anything strange or unusual happens to you, please let me know!

I'll be back in England by the middle of August. The Weasleys have invited me to stay with them at the end of the summer, and you as well. I'm sure Rom will be owling you about it any day now. I'll write again on your birthday, so make sure Hedwig is out around then! It might be a bit of a journey for her.

Take care, please.

Hermione

Harry put down Hermione's letter very slowly, and then picked it up again. Now that he thought about it, Hermione was completely right. He hadn't realized this before, probably because so many things had happened on that morning of the 15th. First, he had been so happy to see Mr. Weasley for the first time all summer, then he had been worried about Tabitha noticing the floor, and also he had gotten angry and thrown food at Dudley. But once again, Hermione was completely right. Why hadn't the Ministry of Magic contacted him about that particular bit of accidental magic? They had sent him letters in the past, accusing him of performing magic that he didn't do. Was this really so different?

The only other time Harry had ever questioned the Ministry's watch on him was the summer before his third year, when he had made Aunt Marge blow up. The Ministry hadn't penalized him for it because it was the very same summer that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. Otherwise, they would have been on him like a Horntail.

Harry supposed the reason for the Ministry's silence could have been the events of last June. Or maybe they were just tired of having to deal with him. Or maybe…it was something else?

Harry wondered for a moment if somebody else could have performed the magic. Maybe someone from the Ministry had wanted to set him up again, like Umbridge had done with the dementors? Or might it have been one of his rivals playing a cruel joke on him? Draco Malfoy, perhaps? Or…Harry blanched. Or was it someone who wanted to hurt him? Possibly even…Voldemort? Harry shuddered, imagining how close Voldemort would have had to been to perform such a spell. But surely, the point of Dumbledore's protection spells were to protect him from exactly that. Plus, if Voldemort was going to come to Little Whinging, the first thing he would do wouldn't be turning Harry's ceiling a different color.

Deciding he had had enough of homework for one day, Harry gathered his books and supplies and piled them unceremoniously into his bag. Maybe he would wait until he was at the Weasleys' to finish his assignments.

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Hmm, this chapter didn't quite turn out the way I planned. There was going to be a great scene about- wait, never mind, I'll just put it in the next chapter. ;-D

Trivia Question: THIS IS FOR EXTREME DIGGERS Who can figure out what Uric the Oddball in a toupee has to do with Fwooper song? I promise, it's not some crazy invention of Harry's; JK actually mentioned it in one of her books (hint hint). First one to review with the correct answer gets special mention in chapter thirteen, and their own heart from yours truly! ( 3)

All review replies are on my profile!

Happy Father's Day! (Or "Greeting Card Prostitution Day", as I like to call it. Get it? Because they're selling themselves…? Okay, maybe not.)

LaRohaZeta