Disclaimer is in chapter 1.

"Alexander Lavelle Harris!"

Xander automatically ducked down behind the bike he totally hadn't been fawning over, cringing at the tone and the use of his full name. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve that, but it didn't bode well for him. Not well at all. He risked a peek over the wide seat of the Indian and gulped as he saw a red haired homing missile zeroing in on her target.

"Yes Willow?" Xander asked, trying to sound as pitiful as possible.

"Oh don't you dare try that 'innocent little me' stuff! I'm on to you, mister!" She glared at him as she advanced, "You've been home since yesterday and you didn't call me!? I had to find out from Sirius of all people!?"

Hoo boy, Xander grimaced as he moved around the bike to keep the old Indian between himself and Willow.

"I uh, got distracted?" He offered, sounding lame even to his own ears.

Willow faked right, then darted left in order to catch him but Xander knew her too well for that to work. Willow always faked right. "Come back here you… you… poopy head!"

"Come on!" Xander complained, "I got him and my mom and dad dropped the whole 'new baby' thing on me! I got distracted, I would have called you today, I promise!"

Willow paused, considering that. It was a fair excuse, she had to admit, and though she let out an annoyed sigh Willow finally nodded. "Alright, mister. That's fair I guess. I mean, a new little sister is a big deal and it must have been a shock so I guess I can forgive you…"

Xander let out a relieved breath, which lasted just long enough for Sirius to make his presence known.

"Jeez, kid, are you still drooling on the bike? You've been staring at it since yesterday."

Xander's eyes went wide as he looked over at Sirius, then turned to see Willow rapidly building a new head of steam as she openly glared at him. He backed off, "Now Willow, don't do anything you'll regret…"

A stinging hex flew past his head as he ducked.

"I'm not planning on it!" She growled in response, giving chase as Xander bolted for the door and headed out into the junkyard.

Sirius watched them run, smirking to himself as he began to whistle tunelessly and walk over to where his own bike was in a partially disassembled state. He hoped the duo had some fun, Willow had been a little listless over the last few months and he remembered how he felt when he was cut off from his friends.

Some time together will do the two of them the world of good, He thought cheerfully, totally ignoring the curses being flung at Xander by the irate redhead. Who knows, maybe the two of them will wake up and recognize what's under their nose.

"Help!"

Sirius shook his head, annoyed by the noise, and grabbed a pair of headphones plugged into a nearby stereo.

"Crazy witch!"

"Come back here and take your punishment like a man!"

"I'm not that manly!"

Sirius was laughing under his breath the whole time as he listened to music and worked on his bike.

Xander had collapsed against an old crumpled Camaro hood, breathing heavily but in far better shape than Willow who was wheezing on the ground a few feet away.

"Not… fair…" She gasped out, "You… never… used… to… be… able… to… out… run me."

"Been working out." He told her, honestly.

Willow just nodded from where she was puffing on the ground, sweat soaking her face and matting her hair to her forehead. She knew that he'd been exercising, but it hadn't quite sunk in just how much it had affected him.

After a few more moments of getting her breath, Willow looked up at him, "Where did you learn to run all over things like that? I had to chase all around everything and you just went right over it."

"Free running, something the French are calling parkour." Xander told her, "You like it?"

"No!" Willow snapped, folding her arms over her chest, "I used to be able to catch you."

Xander laughed freely from above her, hopping up to sit on the hood of the car. "How was the year, then, Wills?"

Willow pouted, amused neither by the new topic or the old. Either way she was reminded of things she'd rather not be thinking of just then.

"It was alright." She said, opting to lie to her best friend, rather than drop her problems on his head.

Of course, that path might have worked out better for her if Willow wasn't such a bad liar. Xander didn't even have to look down to know that the redhead on the ground below him was starting to literally break out in hives. He sighed, shaking his head, and slid himself around so his head dropped over the edge of the hood as he lay on the car and awkwardly looked down at her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." She told him, eyes nervously scanning the dirt as she played with the strap of her denim coveralls, trying to ignore the itchiness that was starting to prickle at her throat and neck.

"Wills, you know you sweat when you lie," Xander said patiently, "And you're the only person I've ever met who was allergic to their own sweat."

"I am NOT!"

Xander reached down and scratched her neck, causing Willow to arc up slightly so she could lean into the touch and almost, though not quite, start purring like a kitten. Xander just started laughing.

"Come on, Wills, what happened?"

"Nothing happened," She said again, sighing, "Really. It's just that since you left, I've been…"

Willow settled back down, just out of his reach, pulling her knees up and hugging them tightly against her chest.

"Alone."

Xander didn't know what to say to that, he guess he'd known about her being on her own mostly since he left. Jessie had starting hanging out with a new crowd, mostly gamers, but he hadn't really thought it all the way through maybe. I've got Wednesday and Herms, hell even Harry sometimes lately. If you count Draco as comic relief, I've got a whole group of friends.

"I…" He turned his head, looking up at the clouds as they moved over. "I guess I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Willow said seriously, "This isn't on you, Xander. It's me. You've got a great opportunity and I'd kick your butt, mister, if you gave it up… but I just wish my mom and dad had let me go with you."

"That would have kicked ass." Xander grinned, "You and Wednesday would both be in Ravenclaw, and you'd love Herms, I promise you. She's like… English Willow!"

He considered that for a moment, then frowned, "uh, you know, except that you both speak English and all that…"

Willow giggled from the ground, "I know what you meant, Xander."

"Oh, good." Xander sighed, clearly relieved, "Cause I wasn't sure there for a minute."

Willow smiled, standing up so she could look down at where Xander was lying on the car hood. "Thanks, Xander."

"What? I didn't do anything." Xander sat up, puzzled, as he hopped off the car.

"Yes you did." She said, taking a deep breath. "I'll be fine. It's just hard sometimes."

Xander hugged her around the shoulders, squeezing tight, "Hey, of course you'll be fine. You'll always make it through, you're Willow! The real deal, accept no substitutes."

"Not even English ones?" She asked, smiling.

"Not even." Xander swore, "Though as far as knock offs go, Herms is high quality."

Willow couldn't help giggling again, "I'll let her know that she's a high quality knockoff next time we have a movie night."

Xander's eyes widened comically, "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"Naw, not unless you annoy me."

"I'm so doomed."

Xander slumped, head down as they walked, Willow still giggling while the two headed back to the workshop.

Hogwarts, Scotland.

Albus Dumbledore found himself perplexed as he read the article and posted announcement in the Daily Prophet.

This isn't Harry's work, clearly.

He only had to puzzle about it for a few seconds, though, before the answer came to him.

Andromeda. I'm beginning to think that introducing them may have been a mistake on my part.

Though it wasn't like he had a great deal of choice in the matter, and this particular issue wasn't a big concern. Honestly, Albus had simply forgotten that he ever had placed mail wards on the boy. They were a necessary addition within literally hours of placing the boy with the Dursleys, otherwise the muggle home would have been buried under letters, gifts, and all manner of nasty threats, curses, and otherwise trapped parcels from 'anonymous' sources.

He'd placed a few loopholes in the mail wards, including himself and the ministry and all members in good standing of the Order of the Phoenix, but other than that had simply left them be. House elves took care of sorting it all, isolating anything potentially dangerous for later examination, but he winced as he realized that there was more than twelve years of 'later examinations' waiting to be done.

Oh dear.

Albus sighed, shaking his head. It had seemed like something that could be put off safely, in favor of more pressing needs, but a few weeks turned into months and then into years, and now there would be work to be done.

"Dippy!" He called out from his desk.

"Yes Professor Dumblydoor, Sir?" The house elf instantly popped into place.

"What's the status of the mail I put you in charge of sorting?"

"All is stored in the Potters Keep, as promised!"

"Good, good." He nodded, you can go now."

The elf vanished away, leaving Albus nodding to himself. At least nothing was missing, he could easily explain himself as long as there was no 'stolen' pieces of mail. After all, who would expect a muggle household to have to deal with such a massive deluge of magical mail?

That only left the nearly inexplicable hostility of the Minister and Ministry against himself and young Mister Potter. Since the night of Voldemort's return, it had become plain to see that the previous graces he and Harry had 'enjoyed' were well and truly gone. The Prophet attacks were near constant, except for a few pieces that Albus had easily traced back to Andromeda like the apology. If not for those, he would be truly worried for Harry's security, but as things stood it was clear that the Prophet was having far greater luck with their attacks on one Albus Dumbledore than they were against young Harry.

Silver linings are lovely things, indeed, if only they didn't come with the dark clouds.

Surrey, England.

Number Four Privet Drive, was an average looking home on an average looking street in Surrey. It had a very nice lawn, decidedly above garden plot, and an award winning set of flower beds. Working in those beds was an average looking young man who was decidedly not average by any measurement the world might care to set, but Harry James Potter was content to let those who walked by the home pass without having that pointed out.

Harry was a Wizard, of course, and more than that he was The Boy Who Lived, for what that was worth. At that time he didn't feel much like anything special, not with his hands wrist deep in the dirt that housed the flowers his aunt had planted earlier in the spring. Now that he was home, taking care of the beds was one of his chores for the summer.

Honestly, Harry kind of liked working in the gardens, though he suspected that Neville Longbottom could make him look like an incompetent fool by comparison if the other Gryffindor were here to help.

It was easy work by some definitions, physically taxing but now that he knew his way around the job it wasn't something that kept his brain busy so he could think about other developments in his life. With Sirius in 'Exile', he'd been named to the position of Regent Black. It came with some neat bonuses, like the legal right to use magic, but for the moment Harry had grudgingly agreed with his chief (only?) advisor, Andromeda Tonks, to keep that under his belt.

It didn't take long for him to see why.

The Daily Prophet, shortly after running his apology concerning the mail wards, began pumping out various slander pieces against himself and Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry didn't know what was going on, but even he could see that right now he wasn't the ministry's favorite person.

He could only assume it was because Fudge didn't want to believe what he said about Voldemort, but it wasn't like he was alone in speaking up!

There were even Aurors backing his story up, He'd heard them speaking himself. Ok, they didn't know for sure that it was Voldemort but Harry agreed with Shacklbolt when the dark skinned Auror had said that anyone who could out duel Albus Dumbledore and a squad of Aurors was damned near as bad!

Harry really didn't get the whole politics thing, but he was happy that Andromeda was on his side. She'd already begun inserting other little counter pieces into the Prophet, offsetting the Ministry's condemning 'pronouncements'. Nothing blatant or obviously counter to the ministry position, Andromeda had warned him that anything like that would probably be edited or even removed entirely by Ministry sympathizers within the Prophet, but enough that the letters to the editor were pretty balanced by people who hated him and people who defended him.

If Harry was reading the trends in the paper correctly, something Andromeda would undoubtedly grade him on next time she stopped by, the Ministry wasn't happy with the lack of impact they were having overall. The Ministry articles were getting more blatant and overtly hostile with every paper, making Harry wonder how long until something broke and what direction it was going to take when it did.

Unless he was very much mistaken, Harry James Potter was quite certain that he was in for yet another interesting year.