Disclaimer- not mine, just borrowing the characters!

The next day he spent trying not to get in anyways way, as he had been for the rest of his holiday. Uncle Vernon was easy to avoid- nine to five he was at work, he came home, sat on his chair, read the paper, watched the evening news, was vocal on how much better things would be if he had his way, before sitting down to the evening meal. And if Harry was really lucky, that would be the one contact with him before he embarked for his local pub.

Aunt Petunia was slightly harder to work out. Her daytime job involved checking out if any of the neighbours were doing something they shouldn't be, or if they were watching so she could put on some show about her new car/hairdo/anything else that was shiny and expensive. Harry, of course, was not on any list of things to be shown off to the neighbours. If he was out loitering in the park, then Aunt Petunia usually complained about what the neighbours would think. However, if he loitered around in the garden, then the neighbours might also have something to say about this. And if he had the audacity to sit in his room, perhaps doing all the homework that was meant to be done for school, then apparently, the neighbours might even find this strange, as teenage boys weren't meant to stay inside in summer to do their homework. Harry had once asked his aunt exactly what it was his aunt wanted him to do during the day. She hadn't answered directly, just muttered something about boys who should know better.

If Harry was feeling vindictive, he did all the above just because he knew it would annoy her. The other days, like today, he just wanted to stay below the radar, stay out of the way, and spent the day walking through the opposite side of town where no one had heard the story of the boy who went to a school for the criminally insane, or whoever St Brutus was meant to be for.

He got home that evening just before his uncle, giving him time to get up the stairs before his uncle could start in on either his hair or his clothes. Surprisingly, that evening, Aunt Petunia didn't immediately call him down to help with dinner. Instead, he crept down, about thirty minutes later to find dinner merrily cooking itself on the stove, Aunt Petunia standing guard in case it dared do anything out of line. Uncle Vernon was in his seat, mulling over the evening paper, a large glass of red wine already in his hand. Dudley was fixated on the TV.

Harry waited patiently for the first jibe, the first angry retort, and was more than a little surprised when there was just silence. Feeling almost as if he had walked into the twilight zone, then smirking slightly when he imagined Ron asking what the hell was the twilight zone, he walked over to the table. Aunt Petunia acknowledged his presence with the smallest of nods as he sat down. For a moment he just sat there, feeling stunned, until hesitantly he began to lay the table with mats and cutlery.

And that was how it carried on. Dinner was a much quieter affair than usual. Harry wondered if the Dursleys had been stunned or something, but they seemed to be talking normally to each other. Harry was just getting used to being ignored, quite liking the chance to eat his dinner in peace, when Aunt Petunia looked at him. 'and how was your day?'

Harry was so shocked he almost sprayed his mouthful of peas over the table. Swallowing with difficulty, he looked up at her. 'Are you…are you talking to me?' He checked.

He was expecting his Uncle to make at least one snide comment, but he was quiet, staring at his dinner, putting all his concentration into getting fork from plate to mouth. Harry glanced at Dudley, who was also shovelling his food in as if he thought it about to escape his plate. Harry was glad for at least something normal. He concentrated back on Aunt Petunia. 'Uh…it was…okay?' He tried, sure he was walking directly into a trap.

'Good, good. And you, dear?' Aunt Petunia said, turning to Dudley, who managed to grunt between mouthfuls of mash.

Harry was feeling mighty uncomfortable by the end of the meal, desperate to escape this weird setting and get to the safety of his room. He was still expecting something to happen as he walked from the room, Aunt Petunia assuring him he didn't need to do the washing up, their new dishwasher could do it. (Which, incidentally, was the first time Harry had heard her refer to the new machine doing any work- he had assumed it was just for show.) He finished a History of Magic essay, and was just getting into writing letters to Hermione and Ron when there was a quiet knock on his door. Harry thought he knew who would be there, and wasn't surprised when Aunt Petunia stepped into his room, making no comment regarding the state of it, and offered him another mug of hot chocolate. It was a cool evening, and Harry was almost grateful for it; the bigger part of him was still expecting something to happen.

But Aunt Petunia just smiled, offering him a good night as she went out of the room. Harry settled on his bed, enjoying the drink, the letter to Hermione asking her what she thought about the Dudley's sudden attitude abandoned on his desk. The letter remained unwritten.

Ron Weasley stepped out of his room, opened his mouth and bellowed down the stairs 'GINNY!'

'Will you stop yelling!' An equally loud voice from below answered his cry.

'Sorry mum.' He called back, slightly quieter, before he made for the stairs, stomping down them, determined that this time his sister was going to answer for what she had done.

'Ginny!' He shouted through her closed door hammering loudly on the wood.

The door opened underneath his battering fist, almost causing him to tumble through the door. 'Yes Ron?' Ginny asked sweetly.

'Don't you "yes Ron" me! I swear this is the last time, now give him back!'

'Give who back?' Ginny asked, her performance of acting all sweet and innocent certainly not working to contain Ron's temper.

'You know what! Give me back Pig. This is the forth time this week you've nicked him!'

'Oh…Pig…he's taken a letter for me.'

'What?' Ron cried in anger.

'Yes, I had a letter for Dean.'

'You sent my owl, to your boyfriend?'

'He's not my boyfriend.' Ginny said, irritated by the constant accusation. 'We're just friends.'

At first, Ron couldn't decide to stay on track, or go down this new, incredibly satisfying teasing route. He decided to stick with the former- he could always tease Ginny about her love life later. 'You should have asked. I've got a letter for Harry I wanted to send.'

'Hermione more like.' Ginny said with a grin.

She was rewarded with a blush quickly spreading over Ron's face, turning him bright red. She laughed.

'I've got one for Harry and Hermione. They are both my friends after all.' Ron said quickly. 'Look, just ask next time, ok?' He finished, not waiting for her nod as he was already running up the stairs.

Ginny shook her head, it was too easy to tease Ron, especially as he walked into most of his own traps.

'Ron, Ginny, dinner!' Mrs Weasley yelled up the stairs, just as Ginny was about to step back into the room. Ginny looked back in, at all the homework spread over the duvet, and quickly decided dinner was a much better option. Not that she could miss it; missing dinner was close to sacrilege in the Weasley household.

'What was all that yelling for?' Mrs Weasley asked as Ginny took her seat, Ron following a few seconds later and sitting opposite.

'Nothing.' They both answered at the same time. Mrs Weasley looked at them disbelievingly, before she dished out the Shepherd's Pie to them both.

Mr Weasley sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, just home from the office, and greeted them warmly. 'Do anything interesting today?' he asked as he tucked into his own meal.

'Went flying.' Ron answered through a mouthful of mince.

'Ronald Weasley, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk with your mouthful?' Mrs Weasley admonished, sitting down opposite her husband, tucking the dishcloth she had been carrying into the waistband of her apron. Not waiting for an answer, she began to quiz her husband on what he had done that day, not pleased to hear that things were looking even more unsettled day by day.

Ron and Ginny were both concentrating, Ron hardest, on eating, but looked up at the mention of Harry's name. Ron swallowed quickly, before turning to his mum. 'Did Dumbledore say when he thought Harry could come here?'

'Not quite, my dear. Harry should stay for a little while with his own family.' Mrs Weasley's face told exactly what she thought of that plan, but she said nothing, not liking to criticise the headmaster in front of her children. 'Professor Dumbledore did suggest, though, that you and Hermione visit him one day, to keep him company.'

'When?' Ron asked in excitement, Ginny smiling as he literally bounced in his chair.

'Well there's a little more planning to do yet.' Mrs Weasley said vaguely. 'Why don't you owl Hermione, see when is best for her, then we can arrange it with Dumbledore.'

'I can't wait to owl Harry, he'll.'

'No.' Mr Weasley interrupted his son, who was already on his feet. Ron looked back at him. 'You can't send an owl to Harry. Not with any details of this. It is being planned very carefully, and you don't want to compromise anyone's safety, do you?'

Ron shook his head, looking downcast for a moment, before he smiled. 'I'll go owl Hermione.' He said brightly.

Ginny quickly swallowed the last mouthful of Shepherd's Pie, knowing it wouldn't be long before Ron remembered she'd used his owl. 'I'm gonna feed the chickens.' She said as she rushed out the back door, just as Ron, looking furious, stormed back in. 'GINNY!'

'And you dear? What are your plans for the day?'

Aunt Petunia's question was more expected now, and Harry no longer jumped when he was addressed by any of the Dursleys. In fact, it felt natural now, no longer weird, or forced. Which in itself was slightly weird.

'Oh, I don't know…I was thinking of doing some school work at the library.' Harry didn't know why exactly he needed to go to the library. It had just come out of his mouth, and seemed right. He was sure he had schoolwork to be done, but part of him knew that a muggle library wouldn't help him much; he'd never bothered with Muggle Studies, after all. But, it felt like something he was meant to do.

'Good, good.' Harry had his head down, and missed the significant look passed between Mr and Mrs Dursley.

The summer holiday was slowly heading the way all holidays went, and Harry was…surprised…that this holiday hadn't been any where near as all the other summer holidays he'd had to endure. It was just small things, like not having to endure the constant criticism of Mr Dursley. Or being addressed by any of the Dursleys. But more and more he felt like something was missing. When he thought about it too much, there was nothing specific he could think of. Everything seemed to be exactly where it should be. The only thing he could put the feeling down to was missing school. The holidays were a long time to not see all his friends. But even this didn't feel right. He was finding, the longer he tried to think of school, and his friends, the more hazy these memories seemed to be. The long holiday seemed to be having an effect on his memory, Harry thought. He wasn't too worried. Every day, after all, only brought him closer to the start of school.

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