Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't expect to.

Note:

---- means that the POV changes to either Harry's or Kat's perspective

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

The words rang through my ears about a million and one times before I actually caught hold of what he had said.

"I'm Harry Potter."

And even though he had, quite possibly the most amazingly wonderful voice that I had heard in my entire life. . . that boy scared my pants off.

Harry Potter.

The weirdo axe murderer from Number 4.

Oh dear Lord, I was going to die!

But Lord, his eyes were pretty. And he was staring right at me! And then my brain kicked back into gear a bit. 'Wait. . . my eyes are up here! PERVERT!' That sicko was trying to get a free show. 'So he's an axe murderer AND a perv!'

He opened his mouth to say something, and something in my brain told me to stay and hear that wonderful voice one more time. However, the rest of my brain was saying 'Kat! Don't be stupid! He'll kill you! Or worse. . . RAPE you! RUN!' Why, in my mind, rape is worse than death, I'll never know, but anyway; since more of my brain was saying that than 'Good Lord is he hot,' and since I am most definitely not the bravest girl in the world, I did the only thing that came to my frantic mind at the moment.

I turned and I ran.

I ran as fast as I could back to my house; looking back every few paces to make sure he wasn't following me.

He wasn't.

Oh thank the Lord.

----

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter," I said, reaching out to shake the girl's hand.

She glanced at my hand, and her eyes went wide. I could practically see the fear radiating off of her.

Her eyes were brown. Not a particularly pretty brown. . . but I'm not saying she was ugly either! She wasn't! Seriously! I mean it!

I mean, she was no Cho Chang, but there was still just something about her that would have made me notice her in a crowd rather than some other supermodel-looking girl. It was a bit odd, but I didn't mind.

She had this amazing brown hair that I just wanted to reach down and run my fingers through, but I decided against it because that would probably scare the bloody hell out of her. Not that she wasn't already scared, though I've mentioned that, haven't I? Well, she was wearing this grey tank top (a Led Zeppelin logo was on the front) and if I tilted my head a bit to the side I could almost get a good vie­­ uh. . . nevermind. That's not really important right now.

So, when I had stopped. . . uh. . . noticing her aspects. . . I looked her in the eye and said, "So you must be our new neighbors."

Or at least I would have, had she not turned and bolted straight down the street.

Bloody hell! Why are girls so bloody confusing!

----

I slammed the door and ran up to my room.

Well, I guess I didn't really slam the door, per say. I kind of shut it forcibly, but quietly at the same time so I wouldn't wake anyone up. . . If that makes any sense. . . At all. . .

Anyways. . .

So, I went up to my room (which I had finally finished decorating, by the way), flopped onto my bed, and stared at an old watermark on the ceiling.

I sighed exhaustedly and all at once a million thoughts rushed into my weary brain: 'Who was this guy really?' 'He was pretty attractive.' 'He doesn't look like an axe murderer.' 'Oh, his eyes. . .' 'He kind of looks familiar.' 'He was wearing glasses.' 'I don't think he was all that dangerous, really.' 'I like glasses.' 'He was actually pretty nice.' 'And hot.' 'Was everyone else lying to me?'

So, there I was, burnt out and utterly confused when Dad decides to drop by my room for a little chat. Now, if you haven't guessed yet, I don't have the best relationship with my dad. To put it simply; we hate each other. Well, I mean, I try not to, but he's just one of those types of people, you know? The type of person that, no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to not hate them.

Sure, it makes me sad sometimes, because when I was growing up, all of my friends would go on all these trips and to all these dances with their dads, and I never went to a single one.

I remember this one time, I was about six or seven, and there was one of those father-daughter dances that everyone loves so much. Now, this was when we lived back in the States. See, my dad's family is from Britain and my mom is actually from New York, but when her parents died, we moved over here. Well, anyway, back to the dance. So, my mom used to love going to these types of things with her father when she was little. I mean, this is practically what she lived for. Well, not really, but I guess it really meant a lot to her.

So, she convinced my dad (who's hair was actually brighter back then) to take me to one of them so I could see all of my friends and he could talk to the other dads and he and I could just get to know each other better, you know? Well, my dad can hardly ever say no to my mom, so he took me.

The whole time we were there, he refused to have anything to do with me. It was like he was ashamed to have me as his daughter or something.

I guess that was really the day I realized that I hated my father.

So, fast forward about ten years to a few paragraphs ago. My dad had just walked into the room (heck, I had just noticed he was there) and I stood to greet him and ask him what gave him the right to just barge into my room at midnight when he stormed up to me and slapped me across the face.

Now, I had never been slapped by my dad before. I guess that could be because I was always around Mom when he was there, but still, it scared me.

Falling back onto my bed and holding my stinging cheek, I glared up at my father. "What the Hell did you do that for?" I yelled.

He roughly pushed his hand over my mouth to quiet me so I wouldn't wake the others. "How dare you!" he yelled, flecks of spit hitting my face. "You worthless whore! I knew we should have sent you off to boarding school when we had the chance!"

Isn't it odd how he doesn't seem to care who wakes up to hear this. It's like he put a spell or something on the other's rooms so they couldn't hear them. Ha! Wouldn't that be great? I wish magic was real. Then I could just turn him into a toad and throw the thing out in front of a truck or something.

I glared at the balding man and harshly pushed his hand from my chapped lips. "What the Hell are you talking about? What did I do this time?" I whispered coldly back to him; glaring into his pale grey eyes.

He backed away slightly and glared down at me. "Don't act like you don't know," he growled. "I saw you out with that. . . that boy. . . tonight." He glared at me again, as if he wanted me to know the extent of his anger. "I know you know who he is. I know you've found the documents. I know you're working for. . . them. . ."

Alright, so if you thought I was confused before my dad came in, just imagine how I'm feeling now. He walks into my room, in the middle of the night, basically tells me that he's been spying on me and then blames me for some random crap that I've never even heard of.

Yeah, now do you get it?

I was pretty damn confused.

Not to mention angry.

I mean, wouldn't you be if your dad had been spying on you and starts rambling about random crap.

Well, you'll never guess what happens next.

"You tell anyone about anything you know, and I swear to God, Katherine, I will not hesitate to slit your throat in your sleep," he threatened before striding to the door. "And if you tell anyone about what happened tonight, not only will I kill you, but your whole damn family can go to Hell with you."

He glared one last time at me before turning sharply on his heal and storming from the room, careful not to make a loud noise as he shut the door.

"Huh?"

Tears start to well up in my eyes as I walk slowly over to the window and pull back the curtains to look out. It was really a beautiful night, but what had just happened made me think everything was ugly.

A light in the room across the street from mine caught my eye. Staring back at me was the boy from earlier; Harry Potter. It seemed like his face showed concern for me. Then again it was dark and I was crying, so I guess I could have been seeing things. Yeah, that was probably it.

I cupped my cheek again, the stinging had gone but it was starting to swell.

This was going to be a fun one to explain to Mom in the morning.

----

I got back to the Dursley's at about midnight. Luckily, all three of them had recently taken to not even bothering to notice that I was there, so didn't pay attention to when I left and came back. I could be out getting pissed all night and they wouldn't care if I came back or not. Oh well, another month and I'll be out of here forever.

Noises came from the house across the street, and I assumed it was the brown-haired girl and her parents getting into a row about how late she came in.

Just for once, I wish I could have someone who actually cared enough about me to yell at me for getting in late.

The light is on in one of the windows. I'm assuming it's Her room because it seems like that's where the yelling is coming from. I can see their silhouettes against the curtains hanging in the window. The taller person just slapped Her. 'Help her!' was automatically the first thought that came to mind; and I was about to, too. I was going to go over there and teach that piss head not to slap pretty girls.

I sighed and flopped into my desk chair, staring at the illuminated room across the street.

The taller person had left the room now, and the brown-haired girl opened the curtains. She had a red mark on her cheek from where the other person had slapped her. It must have hurt loads for me to be able to see it from across the street.

After a moment, she noticed that I was staring and we locked eyes.

Right then, I only noticed one thing; she was crying.

Wow. Sorry that this took me so long to get out. A lot of crazy things have been going on lately, but thanks for everyone's patience. I really appreciate it.

Lindley