DISCLAIMER

This fanfic was organically written by Amber Serpent under the name "Harry Potter And The Phonix's Granted Wish" Amber Serpent wrote up to halfway through chapter 6 although I did make changes so it will fit with what I planed.

Chapter One

A familiar darkness

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry jolted at the shrill voice, his hand reaching under his pillow in instinct for his wand. Only, he didn't feel it. His heart raced in his chest in panic as he looked around the dark space with wide blurred eyes.

"Up!" was screeched again, followed by a quick rapping on the door beside him. Harry flinched before he blanched. The last time he had heard that voice had been a year ago after the Dementor had attacked Dudley and when the Dursleys had then promptly been whipped away into hiding by the Order.

Fawkes had granted his wish, as unbelievable as it was.

The sound of a frying pan being placed on the stove made Harry jolt again. He looked around his cupboard and grabbed his glasses off a nail in the beam above him, setting the broken frames on his nose. Unconsciously, he cast a wandless and nonverbal Occulus Reparo on the glasses. Harry was glad that a trace wasn't put on a wizard themselves, but rather their wand the first time they connected to it. Still, even if there was a trace on him, his magic probably would have read as accidental magic. The masking tape unwrapped from the bridge piece of his glasses, vanishing. He forgot how they had broken, but the ache in his nose reminded him of Dudley's favourite pastime. Harry Hunting.

Harry grimaced. He and Dudley had left on decent terms in the future, but now they were back to square one. Brilliant.

"Are you up yet?" Aunt Petunia demanded, banging on his cupboard door again.

Mentally cursing, Harry called out an "Almost!" as he began to scramble around.

"Well, get a move on!" Aunt Petunia snidely said. "I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn. I want everything to be perfect for Duddy's birthday."

Harry grimaced before looking around for a clean set of clothes and a pair of socks. He wrinkled his nose as he sniffed a shirt. It smelled clean enough, and honestly, after having only a few changes of clothes while on the run, this was the most hygienic thing he's held in a while. Scourgify only worked so many times on the same dirty clothes without any proper washing. He swiftly pulled it on, along with a pair of two-sizes-too-big jeans with a belt wrapped twice around his skinny waist. The only pair of socks was under his memory foam "mattress," where a spider sat. He flicked it off, remembering Ron's fear of spiders with a fond smile.

Harry shook his head to clear the grief before it could start and stumbled out of the cupboard, only managing to not hit his head due to his fast reflexes. He closed the door softly, his mind going to what would happen to him whenever he was particularly loud. He grimaced. After three years without being yelled at or beaten by the Dursleys, particularly Uncle Vernon and Dudley, he was not looking forward to spending his time here again.

At least, he thought, I have Hogwarts.

The thought cheered up slightly, he rushed through the hallway and into the kitchen, standing in front of the cooking bacon as if he's done it a hundred times. Because he had. It may have been a few years since he was the Dursleys' resident house-elf, but such ingrained actions did not simply disappear.

He eyed up the number of presents covering the table, snorting when he spotted the racing bike. As he was turning over the bacon, Uncle Vernon strolled into the kitchen, barking at him to brush his hair. Harry rolled his eyes. He couldn't help the way his hair grew, and it wasn't like he even had a hairbrush. And even if he transfigured one of those broken army man toys he had in his cupboard, they would probably take it from him, claiming that he stole it. Then, they would probably hit him with it until it broke. He winced. Yeah, he was going to leave that one alone.

It wasn't long until the birthday boy himself barreled into the kitchen, eagerly counting his presents. Harry swiftly ate the two pieces of bacon he was permitted to eat before he placed their plates of eggs and bacon on the table. He stood by the counter and hid his eye-rolling as his aunt consoled Dudley about getting more presents later because, apparently, thirty-seven presents weren't enough.

The telephone rang then, and Harry remembered the event at the zoo. He hid a grimace. What a beating that had been when he had gotten home. Not minutes later, Aunt Petunia, face screwed up and looking just as horse-like as Harry remembered, said, "Bad news, Vernon. Mrs Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." Aunt Petunia jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Harry cringed as the Dursleys looked at him as if he was the cause of all their problems. Yes, he may have defeated the Dark Lord, but he was now a skinny, undernourished eleven-year-old, and was forced to remain in the care of his abusive relatives. And considering their past, he had a right to be nervous in their presence. Harry thought furiously. He didn't really feel like going to the zoo, perhaps he could go to the park, instead?

"Aunt Petunia..." Harry said slowly as Dudley began a tantrum. Aunt Petunia turned to him, her lips pursed like she swallowed a lemon whole. "Could I perhaps go to the park instead of staying here? That way, you don't have to worry about me being in the house alone." Harry knew that they weren't worried about him, but the rather house itself. But, he was using that to his advantage. He hoped that they would leave him alone. "I can walk there, too," he added, remembering that Uncle Vernon had recently gotten a new car. Harry stood there, head angled down as to not appear too excited.

The doorbell rang, alerting the Dursleys to the presence of Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss. Otherwise known, to Harry at least, as rat-boy.

Aunt Petunia turned her narrowed eyes to him and pointed at the back door. "Go on, then. Weed the garden, first, and then you can leave. Don't come back until it's late." "And no funny business, boy!" Uncle Vernon added, glaring at him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, ducking Dudley's waving fists as he heard the door open, Piers loudly announcing his presence. Harry rolled his eyes and swiftly tended to the garden, not daring to use magic with the Dursleys here. It didn't take him long to finish the weeding as he simply spelled most of the weeds to uproot from the ground, so all he had to do was drag them into a pile. The Dursleys were long since gone. They would be gone for most of the day.

After collecting the rest of the weeds into a pile, Harry spelled them all into the wheelie bin, making sure that no one around could see him using magic.

Left to his own devices. Harry then decided to do what he originally planned, which was to go to the park. He hadn't been able to relax in a long while, and he simply enjoyed his stroll to the local park. Children and their parents were already out and about so Harry sat on an isolated bench, drawing his knees to his chest.

He blinked at a prick of pain and looked down at his hand. He lifted it and looked at his finger, noticing a splinter. It didn't hurt much, and Harry quickly pulled the piece of wood out, flicking it away. The pain almost immediately dulled but was still there, annoying just like a paper cut.

Harry didn't mind the pain, however. The pain made this real.

Any doubts that this was simply his overactive imagination, or even a coma dream he could have after his duel with Voldemort, disappeared. He could nearly sob with joy. His friends, while not currently his friends, weren't dead. His godfather, while currently in Azkaban, was not dead. And his honorary Uncle, Remus, was not dead.

Harry shook away the thoughts and sat on the bench, watching the other children—because he was a child, too, now—run around and play with one another. No one bothered to come up to him and ask him to play, and Harry didn't mind. He would have turned down the offer anyway. He had too much to think about.

Like what to do when he got his Hogwarts letter, for example, he was not willing to force Hagrid to come and get him this time. Nor did he particularly want to go to a little shack on a small island off the coast in the middle of a storm. He shivered at the memory. No, he would have to do something about that.

Perhaps he could read the letter first and then approach Aunt Petunia about it after Uncle Vernon left for work? Aunt Petunia, for as much as she hated him, didn't hit him as often as her husband did. And even when she did, it was often a glancing blow with a frying pan that Harry had more than a good amount of practice dodging.

Or maybe, he could send a letter back to Hogwarts, letting them know that he knew nothing of magic and asking for help. They would have to send someone then, right? But what about getting an owl? Did an owl even send the first letter? Harry would have to check that line of thought out before he did anything.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon couldn't possibly claim they knew nothing of magic when an actual wizard showed up at their door.

A scream piercing the air made Harry jump up with a racing heart, green eyes flickering about any sign of danger. There was another scream, this time followed by a child's laughter. Harry felt foolish. It was simply a pair of girls running away from a boy who, from what he could see from his poorly prescribed glasses, had a worm on a stick and was chasing them. Harry rolled his eyes and sat down again, pressing a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

He spent the rest of the day just enjoying the warm air watching kids his age play various games. It was only when he spotted a few kids he recognized to be in Dudley's gang did he finally decide to slip away.

Uncle Vernon's car was pulling into the drive when Harry turned the corner onto the street. Even though he was about fifteen meters away, Harry could easily hear Dudley and Piers talking loudly about the zoo.

Harry sat on the wall and waited for Piers's mom to pull up and drive her son home before deciding to head into the house. He had no doubt that Dudley and Piers would have decided to get in a few celebratory hits before the other boy was forced to leave. He was actually surprised that they hadn't decided to do so the last time before remembering the beating he had gotten for talking to the snake and making the glass for the cage vanish.

Remembering that made him tread carefully when he approached the house and Harry softly opened the door before shutting it, just in case the door closing would make Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia turn on him.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled when Harry passed the sitting room. Harry just about managed to stop his jump, and he turned to face his Uncle.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked warily, wondering what his Uncle could possibly want.

"There's wrapping paper all over the kitchen. Go clean it up!" Harry nodded and sighed, despising the fact that he was being forced to be a house-elf again. He cleaned up the wrapping paper without comment, however, and stacked Dudley's presents into neat piles based on size.

All of the computer games went into one pile, while the camera, video recorder, and remote-controlled aeroplane went into another. While moving another boxed item, Harry accidentally nudged a box off the table. He winced at the clatter and bent down to pick it up.

Just as he was standing up, Dudley's brand new golden watch in hand, a voice behind him yelled, "He's trying to steal my presents!"

Harry stood swiftly and placed the watch on the table, just as Uncle Vernon bounded into view. The man's face was turning into a peculiar shade of purple, reminding him of the colour of the Draught of Dreamless Sleep.

"You trying to steal Dudley's presents, boy?" Uncle Vernon bellowed. Dudley, who stood beside him, was grinning with a malicious look in his eyes.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not! I'm just putting them into a pile. Look, I don't have anything on me!" Harry thrust his hands out. Apparently, that was a bad move.

"The freak's going to do something freakish!" Dudley crowed just as Aunt Petunia wandered in. She narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry swiftly dropped his hands.

"I'm not! I didn't try to-" Uncle Vernon jerked forward and boxed Harry on the side of his head, causing his glasses to go askew and slice the side if his temple. Harry bit his lip and didn't struggle when Uncle Vernon dragged him down the hall. The large man ripped open his cupboard door, and Harry just about managed not to brain himself on a shelf when a foot connected with his side.

"No meals for a week, boy!" Uncle Vernon snarled. He slammed the cupboard door closed, and Harry heard the distinct click of a lock. "And no coming out of your cupboard!"

Harry sat there and blinked at the light streaming through the slats on his cupboard as blood dribbled from the small cut on his head. He wasn't surprised that Dudley had claimed that Harry was trying to steal his presents, but he was surprised that he hadn't gotten a beating. He rubbed his side that was throbbing and pressed his fingers to his head.

Well, there goes avoiding trouble, he thought bitterly as he took away his hand, which was bloody. Harry swiftly did a minor healing spell, wincing as his head stung sharply before dulling. He then cast a Scourgify to get rid of the blood.

Harry's stomach growled, and he ignored it. Not only had he been used to foregoing meals the first time around, but proper food had been hard to come by while on the run for Horcruxes. There was one advantage that he had, Harry realized. He could simply summon food from the pantry into his hands. He may have to play it safe and take things here and there, but he wouldn't have to starve for a full week before regaining meal privileges.

Plan now in mind, Harry, in his boredom, checked his school bag for any possible homework he had. He closed the slats on his cupboard door and summoned a small ball of light with the use of a modified Lumos spell Hermione taught him since Lumos itself only worked with a wand. Harry swiftly did a maths page and grabbed one of the two books he had to pass the time.

Harry extinguished the ball of light every time he heard the Dursleys walk past him, and when the house finally fell silent, save for Dudley's and Uncle Vernon's thundering snores, Harry finally summoned himself two slices of bread, some peanut butter and jelly, and a butter knife.

It wasn't hard to clean the knife with a simple Scourgify, nor was it difficult to return the items he took. Doing wandless magic felt easier than it was when he started doing the spells just verbally in the beginning. Harry chalked it up to six years of experience.

Harry didn't feel a lick of guilt over the next week as he continued to summon food to his cupboard, especially since he hadn't managed to avoid the beating the day after Dudley's birthday and had to go to school hiding a limp.

When Harry was finally released from his prison and was back in the Dursley's good graces after a few weeks, he asked to go to the park in the afternoon. School had let out days beforehand, so Harry got his chores done much quicker. Aunt Petunia had only agreed because Harry hadn't talked back to her or Uncle Vernon once and he had done all of his chores flawlessly—magic was an amazing tool—and without any complaints.

And so, almost every day, Harry could be seen trekking down to the park, a little notebook in hand.

It was there, on that singular, isolated bench that he sat on in his first trip, did Harry plan out his future. He did not plan to simply lie back and let things happen as they had in the previous timeline—as he had begun to call it—nor did he want to be ignorant of the wizarding world this time.

As much as he despised blood-purists, knowing your ancestry, especially if you were from a pureblood family, was useful. Knowing various customs was important, as well. Harry was considering asking the goblins if they could help him out. As he had learned in his previous timeline, a little respect went a long way, especially with goblins.

He wondered if they had some sort of magical pedigree chart for wizards as he had seen for "Aunt" Marge's dogs that she often displayed when she came around. He despised the thought of comparing himself to a dog, especially with Aunt Marge's words of "if there's something wrong with the bitch, then there'll be something wrong with the pup" ringing around his mind. Even the memory of it had him trembling with rage. He would have to be careful to not let his magic get out of control this time. He definitely didn't need to get in trouble with the Ministry and potentially get blasted all over the Daily Prophet like last time.

Harry wanted to avoid being the centre of attention if he could help it. He knew that it wouldn't be that simple, however, nor could it be helped in certain situations. He planned to wear a hat to cover his scar when he went to Diagon Alley. He also thought of Tonks and her metamorphmagus ability. As far as he knew, growing out one's hair wasn't something all wizards could do without a potion or a spell. Maybe he had some latent metamorphmagus genes? He would tangle with the idea later and try to get some books on it when he went shopping.

Shopping should also be interesting since Harry knew most of the information from before, and he had come across a lot of interesting things that he wanted to learn more about. Perhaps he should be a studious Ravenclaw this time? It would not only help him in the long run, especially if he was to become a criminal again, but it was also fascinating.

I'm turning into Hermione, Harry mused. He didn't feel much horror at the idea, however. Maybe the brunette's habits had rubbed off on him...