Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: Having keyboard issues, so this took longer than expected. Sorry about the delay.

One of my reviewers said that I had the school system all wrong. I apologize, but I wrote what I knew, which is the American schooling style. None of the info I could find was at all helpful - maybe I was looking in the wrong places, eh? I meant no disrespect. Right now, I don't have access to my computer and am using a friend's. When I'm back on mine, I'll re-do the chapter so that it's more accurate.

I'm in shock. I managed to get more than 100 reviews. Does a little happy-dance. You all rock!

Chapter Six: Problems?

The remaining two weeks of the summer passed in a whirlwind of activity for Harry. Remus managed to get him through the DADA curriculum for first through fourth years, charms was covered through third year, and transfiguration was covered through half of the second year list. Remus was of two minds concerning Harry's progress. On one had, he was astonished at Harry's progress; on the other, he was somewhat upset that he'd had to avoid so may subjects. He had yet to hear back from Dumbledore about a suitable tutor for Harry's potions-related studies.

For Harry's part, he couldn't recall ever being so happy before. Not only was he away from the Dursleys for the first time in his memory, but he also had a home where he was allowed to be himself, good friends that were honestly interested in him, and a living link with his parents. He was also making friends with someone his own age. Hermione had visited twice in the two weeks before school resumed. It was really due to her that Harry was learning his magic so quickly. She had shown him a simple concentration-enhancing charm that cut his study-time in half. She did let him know that it was the only memory-related charm allowed for use by students, because it simply made it easier to ignore outside distractions while studying. It did nothing to enhance the memory of the person using it.

The night before school began, Harry put the finishing touches on his mural. He grinned. It had to have been one of his best works, ever. He was just putting his brushes and paints away when someone knocked on his door. "Come in."

"Evening, Harry." Allen sat on the desk chair.

Harry smiled in greeting, "Whacha need, Allen?"

"Just making sure you're all set for school tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Good... good." Allen ran a hand through his hair.

"Why do I get the impression that there was something else you wanted to talk about?"

Allen chuckled. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not really. I just know you too well."

"That you do. Anyway, Tonks dropped by."

"Oh What did she have to say"

"She feels she's collected enough evidence against the Dursleys. Unless you have any objections, she will be turning the information over to the police soon."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to feel. On the one hand, he felt that the Dursleys deserved whatever punishments the law allowed, on the other, however, he was beginning to feel a bit guilty about breaking up their family. Allen seemed to pick up on Harry's internal conflict. "Harry? You do still want to do this, right?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know, Allen. I do want to be rid of them..."

"But?"

"But... I don't know... Even though we don't like each other, they are my family... Aside from you and the guys and Jennifer, they're the only family I can remember."

Allen sighed. "It's okay to feel that way, Harry, but don't let your misplaced sympathies get the better of your judgment. From what you've told me about your life with them..." he took a deep breath. "What they did to you amounted to neglect at best and outright abuse at worst."

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Harry. What they did was wrong. I highly doubt you would have stood for it, had it happened to anyone else. Why, then, are you allowing it to yourself?"

Harry sighed. "I guess I can see what you mean. I just wish there was a better way."

"You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."

When classes started, Harry suddenly felt as though there were nowhere near enough hours in the day. He woke up at seven every morning, showered, shaved, and dressed for the day. Over breakfast, he reviewed his homework. He had to leave by eight, in order to be to school by nine. From nine to three-thirty he was in class. From four-thirty to eight, he worked at the shop. At eight, Allen, Remus, and Harry returned home and had supper. Harry was then able to work on his homework until eleven. From eleven to midnight, Remus tutored him on something magical; they had just started going through modern wizarding history, and Harry found the topic fascinating. At midnight, Harry fell into an exhausted slumber, just to start the whole thing over the next day.

Harry didn't mind his busy schedule. The Dursleys had kept him running ragged the entire time he lived with them. At least now it was all things he either enjoyed or recognized as necessary to his own future. Though he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, for the first time, he was truly content. However, all good things must come to an end.

It was nearing one in the morning of Thursday, September 18. Harry was still awake. He had a major paper due the next afternoon for his muggle history unit on World War Two. Yawning, he hit 'print.' Unfortunately, he overslept the next morning and was unable to review his homework. At the beginning of history, he turned in his paper. He dutifully took notes and progressed to his next class when the bell rang.

During lunch, however, Harry was pulled aside by Mr. Jonas, his history instructor. He was a short, balding man with large brown eyes, which only looked larger through his thick glasses. "Mr. Potter, a moment of your time, if you will."

"Is there something wrong, sir?" Harry asked while his teacher led him by the elbow to an out-of-the way alcove.

"There may be," Mr. Jonas answered. He let go of Harry's arm and removed a sheaf of papers from his shirt pocket and unrolled them. "I was just wondering what possessed you to write this? Your work, though not the best I've ever dealt with, is... Rather more accurate than this."

Confused, Harry took the papers from his teacher. He recognized his history paper, An Evaluation of the Events of WWII. "What do you mean? I mean... I'll admit I was a bit tired when I wrote it - I've been working a lot lately - but..."

"I see." Mr. Jonas shook his head. "Did you read it over?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't have time."

His teacher smiled. "Why don't you do so now?" Harry shrugged, deciding to humor the man, and scanned through his paper. "As you can see, you did rather well through the first four pages. However, once you get to the last third or so of the paper, you begin mentioning things that, to my knowledge, don't exist. People as well."

Harry skipped ahead and felt his stomach drop into the vicinity of his new trainers. Due to the actions of Gridelwald, the British Ministry felt it best to interfere... With growing horror and mortification, he read onward. The war was bound to come to an end once Albus Dumbledore defeated Gridelwald in a duel... It is interesting to note that, despite its many ethical applications as well as his own use of the curse in ending the reign of the last Dark Lord, Dumbledore later campaigned to have the killing curse branded an Unforgivable... Harry finished reading what he had written in an exhausted haze the night before. A blush reddened his face and somehow he managed to stutter, "I... I'm s-sorry, sir. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I'd like to re-do the assignment, if you'll let me."

Mr. Jonas shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I can't allow that. However, I can understand how a busy schedule could have lead to this. The paper up to those last few paragraphs was up to your usual standard. Just this once, I'll allow you to take the grade on the first part."

Harry nodded, "Thank you, sir. I believe I'll see about cutting down my schedule some. It's obvious I need a bit more sleep than I've been getting."

Mr. Jonas smiled. "See that you do. Just between you and me, though, I quite enjoyed the break from the monotony, but do try not to let this happen again, eh?"

Harry chuckled. "Of course not."

After Harry left school that afternoon and had the chance to talk to Remus, it took the werewolf a full half-hour to calm his howling laughter. Allen, though, didn't think the situation was quite so humorous. He sighed as he realized that he would be needing to keep Remus around the shop a bit longer. Harry was about to have his hours cut to half, weather he liked it or not.

With the decrease in the number of hours he worked at the shop, there were no further incidents. Harry managed to get all his work done, for the most part correctly, before his nightly sessions with Remus.

During one of Harry's rare moments of solitude where he had no further work to do, he realized he'd never received a response from the Hogwarts Potions' Master. It had also been a full month since he'd spoken with Hermione. He shrugged and set about drafting a couple of much-needed letters.

September 30, 1997
Dear Hermione,

I hope your month has gone well. I've been really busy lately. I actually was tired enough to accidentally write a few paragraphs about Gridelwald in my paper on WWII a couple of weeks ago. Don't worry, though. The teacher just thought it was completely due to my shortage of sleep and that I'd conjured the tale from whole cloth. This led to me cutting my work schedule down some, though. Now I've time enough to sleep and do my work.

Remus mentioned the other day that we might visit Hogsmeade during the weekend before Halloween. I remember you saying that you're sometimes allowed to visit the village. I was hoping we might be able to meet up that afternoon. I wouldn't mind meeting a few more wizard folk my own age. Remus and Tonks (the Auror I told you about before you left) are great and all, but it's better to have someone to talk to that likes the same things I do, you know?

I was also hoping you would be able to let me know when the first quidditch match of the year will be? Remus keeps telling me what a great game it is, and how I have to see a game, but the professional season is over.

Anyway, hope to see you soon.

All my best,
Harry

"No way! You can't be writing to Harry Potter! No one has seen him in years!" Ron Weasley's voice echoed through the nearly-empty library, drawing a dirty look from Madam Pince.

"Shush, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "I thought I told you that I met him over the summer?"

Ron nodded. "You did, but I sorta assumed that you were mistaken... Or that you saw him, but exaggerated..." Ron fell silent. "Sorry, Hermione. I should have known better."

Hermione sighed. "That's alright. I don't know that I would have believed me, either. What is it about me that seems to draw the attention of famous people?"

Ron shrugged. "Beats me. In any case, are we going to get this project for Vector out of the way? I'd kind of like to sleep sometime tonight."

Hermione tucked Harry's letter back into her bag. "Let's see what you've come up with." Hermione read over Ron's notes. "This sounds almost right, but why did you use a four here?"

Ron explained his reasoning, and before long, the project was finished.

Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples. He had just finished grading first-year essays. To take a break from the never-ending drudgery, he decided to attend to his post. After leafing through and discarding the junk mail, he spotted another muggle envelope. He sighed. It appeared that ignoring the Potter brat wasn't enough to be rid of him. He opened the letter.

September 30, 1997
Dear Professor Snape:

I apologize for taking your time once again, however I still find myself wary of attempting anything in the potions field, other than reading and rereading the text I mentioned in my last letter. I have yet to find any sort of unifying theme in the reactions listed. Once again, I ask that you recommend a more comprehensive guide your field. As a teacher, I am sure you appreciate the necessity of having accurate sources of information.

Thank you once more for your time.

Awaiting your owl,
Harry J. Potter

Snape scowled at the letter before pulling a scrap of parchment and his inkwell closer and drafting a response. If the brat wants more information, then that's what he'll bloody well get. He was hopeful that the book he was about to recommend would confuse Potter enough to leave him alone. One Potter a lifetime is one too many.

Harry managed to locate the Potion's Compendium without too much difficulty. He linked at the price in the catalogue and did a mental conversion of its price. Two thousand pounds for a book? Bloody hell! Shrugging, he placed the order before leaving for school. He was happy Professor Snape had gotten back to him. I must have been right to assume he had beenbusy with preparing for the school year.

When Harry returned from work that evening, he saw a package waiting for him on the front porch. He remembered Jennifer mentioning something about going out for supper with Beatrice. It was something they did about once or twice a month. 'Girls' Night Out,' they called it. Harry shook his head and wondered if he should order dinner now or wait for Remus and Allen to return.

All thoughts of supper disappeared when he opened the rather large box. The book contained therein was roughly the size of a small table. It was three feet long, two and a half feet wide, and almost twenty inches thick. Harry realized it had to have been spelled to weigh as little as it did. He had no problems lifting it. He grabbed an apple from the kitchen and settled on his bed to thumb through his latest addition to his library.

When he opened the book, he was shocked to see print smaller than the want-ads in the local paper. On the plus side, though, there were several illustrations. Harry shook his head at the tome. He correctly assumed the book was a complete guide of all known potions' ingredients and practices. He was only halfway through page sixteen when Remus poked his head into the room and announced that dinner was ready, courtesy of the sandwich shop six blocks from the repair center.

A/N2: I know it's way shorter than the chappies I've done thus far. I'm sorry. The computer I'm using is missing the 'n' and 'b' and '?' keys (due to a minor accident with a glass of orange juice.) I've had to cut-and-paste them into place. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

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