A/N: revamped and edited. Enjoy and review!
-----CHAPTER ONE-----
Harry twisted around in his seat as the Dursley's car pulled away from Kings Cross Station. He watched as Moody, Tonks, Lupin and the Weasley's shrank in the distance. Harry waved at them, ignoring the sideways looks he was getting from Dudley. As they dwindled away his heart sank into his stomach. If this summer was anything like last summer, it would be a good two months before any of the Order contrived to whisk him away from number four Privet Drive.
"God, quit waving at them," Dudley suddenly said crossly.
"Why should I?" Harry retorted, glaring at him.
"Hush, the both of you," Vernon said, looking at the two through the rear- view mirror.
Harry reluctantly held back his next remark, as did Dudley. The car was tenser than usual. Vernon was a ghastly shade of purple, and Petunia was sitting upright in her seat with her hands neatly in her lap as she stared dead ahead.
"Why can't you just stay at that madhouse of a school all the time?" Dudley asked, sneering.
"Because the 'madhouse' closes for the summer, genius," Harry muttered, stretching.
Dudley let out a stifled shout as he saw Harry's wand tucked under the waste band of his jeans.
"Dad! He's showing his 'thing'!" Dudley exclaimed, trying to scoot as far away as he could, though he'd already tried that upon entering the car.
"I was not!" Harry shouted; "I was stretching, you great oaf!"
"That's enough, boy!" Vernon roared.
"Well, you're darling diddykins started it," Harry sneered.
"Do not make me pull this car over, boy!" Vernon threatened, the car giving a lurch.
"Oh yes, do try," Harry scoffed; "Then what will happen to me?"
" Vernon," Petunia said quietly, laying a hand on her husband's plump thigh before he could reply.
The rest of the car ride was silent and Harry was washed over with a sudden since of foreboding. Not twenty minutes and he was already regretting ever leaving the platform. He could have easily run, but that would have solved nothing and he knew this all too well. Heaving a sigh, he settled back into his seat, wishing the leather would swallow him whole and no one would see him ever again.
He finally climbed out of the car at Number Four, Private Drive, hauled his belongings up to his room, where Vernon came and slammed the door. Harry took it that he shouldn't leave for a few days. Good thing he had stored and brought a few snacks and treats from the train.
Harry sighed, and went to his bed. Harry fell onto it, rolled over, and stared up at his ceiling. He could not understand for the life of him why he was subject to such ironies. Here, he lay in the home of his nightmares, a home he could not call such. He could be at the Burrow, a real home, a place where he was accepted.
He could be with Sirius, at a flat they would have, could have shared… He could enjoy having a parental figure. But no, such was not the case for one Harry Potter.
He sat up, and looked out the window. Down in the garden sat a...
"Hold on," Harry muttered; "A fox?"
The fox was a steely, almost black silver, save for its crystal blue eyes. It was crouched beneath a rather large holly hock bush, watching Vernon and Petunia on the driveway as if it was staking the place out for a later attack. Vernon and Petunia were talking across the fence with the neighbors. The fox's eyes darted around, and then it backed into the bush, ran across the street, and through Miss Figg's yard to the fields.
Harry sighed, rubbed his eyes, and then looked at the spot again. The last bit of smoke vanished, and Harry shook his head. I was just imagining things, he thought, before laying on his bed again to stare at the ceiling.
It was going to be a long two months.
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The next five weeks were filled with nothing but long, hot summer days and constant fights with Dudley and or Vernon. Petunia had only stayed out of them, preferring to stay out of trouble from the Order and especially Dumbledore. That left Harry all on his own, and inevitably he received a black eye and bruised ribs from Dudley. What infuriated him most was the fact that Vernon had watched the fight and laughed, laughed his head off as if watching a Monty Python rerun, damn that comic. Harry had finally kicked Dudley in the groin and ran to his room, where he was chased there by Vernon.
Now Harry lay curled up in his bed, two days after the last fight. He had managed to look up a quick healing drought, and was relieved that a letter hadn't come for underage wizardry. He decided to spend his time reading a book Hermione had given to him at the last minute, surprised it was a Muggle novel. Many of Dudley's old books were in his room as well, but Harry had finished them long ago.
Harry sat up when he heard the doorbell, and curious, opened the door. He went to the steps, and watched as Vernon walked to the door. It's seven at night, Harry thought; who could be at the door?
To answer his question, there was a girl. She was Harry's age at least, very thin and lean. With bright teal eyes and hair as dark as carved mahogany, in an oversized sweater and faded jeans, she did not seem imposing. But her face was rosy with angered as she stared up at Vernon. Harry saw that a stick, a wand, jutted out from her pocket. The girl tugged at her sweater though, concealing it.
"Who are you?" Vernon asked, annoyed already.
"Where's 'Arry?" the girl snapped, her arms crossed.
"There is no Harry living here," Vernon sneered.
"Come off it! Don't be rude, lemme in!" the girl's accent was odd, like that of Oliver Wood's, but with an ancient, newly risen quirk to it. She pushed her way in, and then closed the door.
"Now, I didn't say you could come into my house!" Vernon shouted.
"And quit yellin', do ye wanna wake the whole street? Sound like a bloomin' banshee, ya do," the girl added, crossing her arms; "Now, do Ah 'ave ta spell it out for you? Where-is-'Air-ree-Pah-tah? I 'aven't got all day, ya know."
"I'm right here," Harry said, walking down the steps.
The girl looked at Harry, blinking slowly; "A'ight, then," she said, "The name's Brenna, Harry. Ah'm 'ere to take ya off now, away from thess 'ellish abode," she added, looking around; "Ever'thin' is so… so clean," she said, shivering.
" Vernon, dear? What's going on?" Petunia asked, walking from the kitchen. She stared at the girl, awe struck and speechless; "Who-" she said, "-is this?" she glared daggers at Harry, and Harry shrugged.
"I dunno," Harry said simply, "Why are you here?"
Brenna scratched the side of her nose, giving Vernon a rueful look; "Ah'm 'ere to take ya to Albus, 'r somewheres, canna remember 'zactly. Do know it's got somat to do wit' teh Order."
"No, you're not going anywhere," Petunia said, then she looked Brenna; "I do not know who you are, young lady, but you should do best and just walk right on out the way you came."
"Sorry, marm, but Ah do 'ave 'igher orders," Brenna said, grinning a grin Harry had only seen once on Sirius before he went to carry out a mild prank or simple trick; "Ya see, a kind man, a Mister Albus…" she paused in thought, then drew a parchment from her front pocket.
She unfolded it, then said; "Ah, yes, a 'Mister Albus Dumbledore, aloong wit' the remaining Order, 'as asked that Brenna Lefrael McBennitae, of the Delgrishire Estate, last remainin' relative o' Elf Wizard Anestrothea, t' escort the Master 'Arry James Pottah t' Delgrishire Estate. Lettahs 'ave bin sent t' alert the residents of Private Drive, Number Four, though Miss McBennitae might arrive before them. In any case, Master Pottah is to accompany Miss McBennitae'…" she finished, crossing her arms and eyeing Petunia; "There, are ya 'appy? 'Tis signed by the man himself, an' nobody can go back on Dumbledore!"
Brenna threw the parchment, and Petunia caught it anxiously. Her sharp scolding eyes darted along the page as she read, and then she looked at Brenna, "How can I be so sure this is not some trick?" she asked brusquely.
Brenna rolled her eyes, and drew her wand; "Oy, thess is a wand," she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child as she held it up with her index fingers; "Which means Ah'm privy to anothah world you detest. Noow, Ah'm also bin given a special task, So if ya don't mind…" she put her wand away; "I'll be leavin' wit' 'Arry."
Harry laughed quietly, shaking his head; "I'll go get my trunk, then," he said, his smile broadening as he walked up the steps.
"Well, 'urry, then!" Brenna said; "Ah've got a time limit, else Moody'll have me hide!"
Ten minutes later, Harry was lugging his things down the stairs. He left the trunk at the door, and went to fetch Hedwig. Petunia watched on, Vernon having gone into the living room muttering about freaks and how he'd best stay out if it. Brenna and Petunia were conversing quietly, Petunia looking flustered and annoyed and Brenna on the verge of slapping the other woman. But, she smiled when Harry finally put on his coat, holding his broom in his hand.
"Ah, no need fa that," Brenna said, taking Hedwig's cage with the owl hooting softly; "We'll be drivin' out."
"Driving?" Harry asked, and Brenna winked.
"Yep," Brenna said, opening the door. She turned to Petunia; "A letter will come explainin' everything, Petunia, no worries."
Petunia huffed and nodded, before shoving them and the trunk out and slamming the door.
Harry laughed; "What'd you say to her?" he asked.
Brenna winked; "Oh, not much," she replied, "Thess and tha', buh nary much more. Jus' mentioned a bit of the Ordah, an' that Moody's around. Speakin' o' whom, where is teh old scar?" she looked around, then shook her head before shouting; "Et's not cursed, Mister Moody, it's just a postal… thing!"
"It was quacking!" Moody exclaimed. He was beside the neighbor's mailbox, one with ducks and geese painted on the side.
"That's because it's supposed to!" Harry said; "Can we go?"
"Yar, we're goin'," Moody said; "Get over here, you two."
They all went to a secluded patch of trees, and Moody pulled out a port key; "Driving thing was a ruse, then?" Harry asked, grinning at Brenna. Again, she winked and smiled. Moody rolled his eyes, and soon the three, along with Harry's belongings, were gone.
TBC
a/n: review!