A/N: There comes a point when we have to make choices. Go to tenth period math or chill in the Band room writing Harry Potter fanfiction. Now my Pre-Calc grade is tanking, but hey, chapter two is up. So I say, read.

By the way, thoughts are itallic and emphasis is bold.

The mysterious letter had greatly changed Harry's routine. Until its arrival, Harry spent most of his days sulking around number 4 Privet Drive, scouring The Daily Prophet and Muggle newspapers for news, sending angry, angst filled letters to his friends at the order, and mourning Sirius. His mood had greatly worsened, and coupled with the threats from Moody, Lupin, and Tonks, the Dursleys stayed out of his way, save Uncle Vernon's reminders to owl his friends. His routine had almost become clockwork when the letter arrived, and then it all abruptly changed. Instead of sulking, Harry constantly reread the letter, looking for anything he may have missed. He ignored the newspapers in favor of contemplating what mysteries the "school" had, and his mourning was replaced with questions. Was this a scheme of Voldemort's? Who sent the letter? If this was a real school, why had Harry never heard of it? The thought had often crossed h9is mind to send Hedwig to Hermione. If anyone knew something about the letter, surely it would be Hermione; after all, she seemed to know everything else. There were even a couple times when Harry found himself writing a letter to his friend, but then he would stop and mentally scold himself for it. Even if Hermione did know something about the school, she wouldn't be permitted to respond. His letters to the Order had mostly gone unanswered, and the few replies he did get were just as vague as the ones he received the previous summer. He knew that the only way to get straight answers was to talk to the Order in person, and the only way he could do that was to not write to them. And so three days passed.

--

After the third day, Harry awoke and began his new routine. He dressed and immediately went to his desk. He reopened the neatly folded letter and began to reread it.

Mr. Potter,

This letter is to inform you that due to your outstanding magical performance you have been accepted to Veneficus Schola. This school is only for the most gifted magic users, and to be accepted is a great honor. The term starts on the thirtieth of August, and means of transportation will be met from the hours of 10 o'clock to noon on the morning prior. All books and materials will be provided upon your arrival. We look forward to having you as a student.

Harry continued to squint at the signature of the letter. He had spent a great deal of time the past three days trying to decipher the illegible scribble. He thought for certain that everything would make sense if he could just see who wrote it. He held it to the light and gazed hard at the name. He could almost make out a 'K' when he heard a mighty ruckus from downstairs. He quickly stuffed the letter into his pocket and hurried down the stairs.

As Harry neared the kitchen, the voices became clear.

"We haven't done anything to the boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon.

"He hasn't written in three days!" said a younger, female voice.

"I told you at the beginning of the summer, Dursley, that we'd be checking up on you. Now where's Potter?" demanded an older, gruff voice.

"I'm right here,"Harry said as he opened the door. Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Minerva McGonagall were all standing around his Aunt's kitchen looking rather out of place.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks. "What have the Muggles done to you?"

"They haven't done anything," Harry said. All eyes were on him. Now's my chance to ask them, he thought to himself.

"They haven't done anything?" asked Kingsley. "Then why haven't you owled?"

"Harry, I understand you're upset," said Lupin, "but you must be patient. The letters are so we know Voldemort or the Death Eaters haven't tried anything."

"I know that,"Harry said. Now. Ask them now, he thought.

Before he could open his mouth, Moody had begun to speak. "Look here, we've got plenty of work to get done for the Order, and it's not our job to babysit!"

"Mr. Potter," spoke McGonagall, "while we understand your frustration, we must remind you that we need to be sure of your well being in case of emergency." Harry couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Haven't you heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?" asked Tonks in a serious manner. Moody Lupin, and Kingsley all looked as thought they would add their say, but Harry cut them off.

"What's Veneficus Schola?" he asked. The room was suddenly quieted.

"Venefi-what?" asked Tonks, puzzled.

Veneficus Schola," said Harry, finally controlling the conversation. "It's some kind of school. I got a letter from them three days ago. That's why I didn't write. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it."

"Veneficus Schola?" McGonagall looked just as stunned as Tonks. "I've never heard of such a place. Have you, Alastor?"

Moody wracked his memory as his magical eye continued to spin around. "Never. Must be trap from Voldemort."

"Harry, you say they sent you a letter?" said Lupin. Harry nodded. "Can we see it?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. Even though he had stuffed it into his pocket in his hurry to get to the kitchen, the letter looked smooth and new when he pulled it out.

Harry handed it to Lupin. The werewolf unfolded and read it carefully before passing it to Kingsley. Kingsley read it and responded, "It doesn't seem to be cursed or bewitched. I think this school may be the real thing." He passed it to Moody.

"I think we should take this Dumbledore before we let Potter go running around this so-called 'school,'" he said.

At the mention of Dumbledore, a hidden rage inside Harry began to swell. He thought back to all the secrets, vague answers, and abandonment, not just from the present summer but from the last one as well. He remembered all that had happened since Voldemort's resurrection and how little Dumbledore had included him. His thoughts turned to the Department of Mysteries, Sirius falling behind the Veil. . . .

"I doubt Dumbledore will think this is a good idea,"Harry heard McGonagall say. He snapped out of his thoughts ad back to reality.

"I'm going," Harry stated firmly. Wait. I'm going? When did i decide that? he thought. It was as if he subconsciously determined that if Dumbledore was against it, he must do it.

The adults just looked at him. Harry realized that he would have to convince them and started thinking fast. "Voldemort would never think to look for me at Veneficus Schola, right? He would expect me to be at Hogwarts."

"How do we know that Voldemort isn't behind the school to begin with?" suggested Moody.

"Voldemort would never think of a school. He thinks of me as 'Dumbledore's Boy.' He wouldn't think he could get me to transfer from Hogwarts," Harry replied. "And even if he tried, it wouldn't just be a letter. He would try something more personal." Like how he had been lured to the Ministry of Magic, just weeks earlier. . . .

"That may be so, but Voldemort's afraid of Dumbledore, right? So being with him is safe,"spoke Tonks.

"Not always. Voldemort's worked his way into Hogwarts loads of times," Harry reasoned."With Quirrell in my first year, and the Diary in my second, and then Barty Crouch in fourth year. He's probably already planning away to get back in now," said Harry.

"Still . . . ," started McGonagall.

"And besides," Harry cut in, "maybe it would be a good thing . . . if I spent a year away . . . just to get a break from everything."

The sadness and depression he had been harboring since the end of term must have leaked through. Lupin gave him a sad smile before speaking to the others. "Perhaps Harry has a point."

"What?" said Tonks. "How can that possibly --" She stopped as she realized what Lupin and Harry were referring to. The adults all exchanged thoughtfully sympathetic looks.

"Alright, Potter," said McGonagall. "We''ll tell Dumbledore about your choice of schooling arrangements for this year."

"Remember, you'll still have to right every three days. Don't try pulling this again," said Kingsley. The five of them disapparated, leaving Harry in the kitchen with his frightened relatives.

Harry turned and left the kitchen without a word and went back to his bedroom to continue his routine.

Yeah, so I've bben in a total writing frenzy lately. First I write a couple chapters of a new Strange Days at Blake Holsey High story, then I edit my Charmed fic, and now this is updated. I do believe I'm spoiling you.

Remeber the cycle. Review!