Dedications: I dedicate this fanfic to Weirdo or other wise known as Nicky Woody who should always have her ponytail on either one side of her head or the other.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: the last air bender, Danny Phantom, or Harry Potter, and the idea is now up for grab of anything that's not related to those three things I do not own, but Tally is mine!

Rated—oh, you should already know what it's rated don't you?

Okay I left off with Harry Potter right? Well I don't know it's been like two months since I wrote it, Right? And I decided to do Harry in his fifth year so that would make him fifteen? Well this had a change of pace because I have altered his path a bit it is so wicked. Well It comes up in this chapter. So where did I leave off, ah here in the second paragraph. Well I hope you don't mind me forgetting, because no one will listen, but the thing is that I can only remember something until something else takes its place, or I can remember something that's told to me once then something comes up to make me remember it forever like this scripture verse from the Bible "If thou do not judge then thou shall not be judged." Really! But you don't want to hear that, speaking that this is the only story I have posted on Fanfiction. Net all the other stories were written reports to my teacher (if you have this teacher then you should be able to tell who I am) Mrs. Cole. "I N V U" say them out loud and you know what I'm talking about. evil live (It's spelled the same way backwards.)

Well this is my fan fiction and you should really find a new hobby if you are reading this.

"Privet Drive"

The boy lying on his back, in the garden of number four Privet Drive was a skinny lad, with untidy jet black hair, and circle rimed glasses in front of his astonishing green eyes. But he had a slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn, baggy, and dirty, his shirt baggy as well as faded and the soles of his shoes were peeling away from his feet.

This unattractive punk was named Harry Potter, and his appearance did not well boat with the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness should be punishable by law. But he had hidden himself behind a large bush this evening, and was quite invisible to the neutral passerby. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if Uncle Vernon of Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out the living room window and looked strait down into the flower beds below.

Harry thought this was his best hiding place yet, in fact he thought someone should congratulate him on it. Although the uncomfortably of laying on the rough, hot earth, was not a good point, but hay, no one was glaring at him, or saying anything to him. At least he could hear the television in the house where his Aunt and Uncle lived with his bratty, selfish, and spoiled cousin Dudley.

Almost as though his thought had fluttered through the open window, Vernon Dursley, Harry's Uncle, suddenly spoke. "Glad to see the boy's stopped trying to but in. where is he anyway?"

"Where is he anyway?" mocked Harry in Vernon deep voice. Then he interpreted Aunt Petunia's high pitched voice, "I don't know, but surly he's up to no good," then he said in his normal voice, "yah, that's what they think."

"I don't know" said Aunt Petunia, right on queue "not in the house."

Uncle Vernon grunted.

"Watching the news..." he said mocking Harry now.

"Copy caters" said Harry under his breath.

"I'd like to know what he's really up to," said Uncle Vernon. "As if a normal boy cares what's on the news."

Harry had his hand up and was opening and closeting simultaneously to uncle Vernon's mouth.

"Dudley hasn't got a clue to what's going on in the rest of the world" said Uncle Vernon.

"This is probably why he's failing history," said Harry "and lunch."

"I doubt he knows who the Prime Minister is!" said Uncle Vernon. "Anyway, it's not as if there'd be anything about 'his lot' on 'our' news—"

"He doesn't know how wrong he is" said Harry under his breath again.

"Vernon, Shh!" said Aunt Petunia. "The window's open!"

"Oh—yes—sorry—dear..."

Harry made himself cross eyed, stuck out his tong, and held his node up with his finger, "Retards," he said in a stupid, idiotic voice.

The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit 'N Bran breakfast cereal on the T.V. inside. While he watched Mrs. Fig, a batty, cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, stroll slowly past.

Aw short story but see you in February when I'll be updating next!