A note from your author: I completly forgot to say that I don't own Harry Potter and you were thinking that I was J. K. Rowling! I am flattered. Thank you to all who have reviewed, and as for the threats, I will not be intimidated, I will stand strong and firm for the rights of every Fan Fiction Reader out there (Thousands of people behind me yelling "Get on with it" ah I love Monty Python) Thank you.

Chapter 2

"Boy!" A voice roared from the downstairs living room. The voice belonged to a man whose face could make an egg plant look pale. Large and very purple this man seemed like a giant compared to the stick of a woman sitting next to him. Both had beady eyes, only the man's seemed to sink behind his eyebrows, while the woman's seemed to pop out under her very heavily manicured forehead.

When a young man came down to see what he was being summoned for he looked nothing like the couple on the couch. He didn't even have beady eyes. His eyes were the color of evergreens, and his hair seemed to not touch any other hair on his head.

"Boy, can you explain this?" The man's face seemed to get, if possible, more purple. He threw down the paper, while never letting his gaze off the young man's face. The man kept staring and the boy's face treating him as if he were a ticking bomb or a man with a gun on the edge.

The young man picked the paper up, it looked as if the new library was finished and the Minister would be cutting the ribbon on Tuesday.

"What, I didn't build the library." The boy had had enough of his aunt and uncle, the couple on the couch, constantly treating him as if he caused everything to go wrong.

"Idiot, not that the one under it, haven't they taught you how to properly read newspapers at that freak place?" His uncle sneered. It seemed to delight him to no end to belittle his nephew.

The young man kept looking until he found the article his uncle was blaming him for.

Crime Rates Explode

During this time of external peace London has been subjected to rising crime. The suspects still remain at large, and no one has been able to get a good look at the criminals. The crime rates have been rising over the past three years. If any person has information about these crimes they are told to contact 1-900………

The man stopped reading there, it was Voldemort, he was certain of it.

"Well, boy, is that part of your crowd? Some of your freaky friends at that freak school, are you their ringleader? Taking-" His uncle stopped there because the boy had walked out of the room. He simply didn't care anymore. What was the point of trying to speak to his aunt and uncle? He was leaving tomorrow anyway.

"Boy get back here! I am not done speaking with you!" His uncle's face went from a deep purple to a fuchsia, it seemed his purple features stayed with him even though it wanted to go red with anger.

His nephew, however, was paying no attention to the fuchsia that seemed to cover his uncle's face, nor was he interested with whatever he had to say. His mind had gone, surprisingly, back to the newspaper. What was Voldemort planning?

When he finally got up to his room, the second his door opened something popped out. He saw it for a moment before it started going down the stairs. Not wanting to upset his uncle further the boy grabbed the fluff ball and went back into his room.

The small ball turned out to be his best friend Ron's owl, Pig. Tiny and annoying the bird seemed to grow on Ron. Thinking of his friend the boy's heart fluttered, by this time tomorrow he would never have to see the Dursleys, his aunt and uncle, ever again. However when he finally got the letter from Pig, not a very easy task, his heart sank as if it were a lead weight.

Harry,

How are you? Well there is no point not telling you, we can't come and pick you up tomorrow. With the wedding and everything else we have no way of getting to your house. Mum says we can come when everything settles down, whenever that will be. Sorry mate.

Ron

P.S. Don't let this get you down.

A likely chance, Harry thought. The Dursley's wouldn't listen to an excuse like that, he was being thrown out first thing in the morning whether he liked it or not.

As he sat on his bed thinking, his snow owl flew over next to him. She looked at him with one of her black button eyes and held her leg out.

"I don't have a letter for you," Harry snapped, he didn't mean to take it out on her but he was disappointed and angry. With that she ruffled her feathers but stuck her leg out even farther.

"You want me to send a letter?" Harry said confused, his anger ebbing away from the look his owl was giving him. The look was one his friend Hermione gave him all the time; You've finally caught on have you?

"Ok, who do you want it to go to?" If owls could sigh then this one just did, she gave another look at Harry as if the answer was painfully obvious and then flew off to his desk. She picked up his unfinished letter to Hermione and dropped it on his lap. When he finally got what she was telling him, her leg was out waiting for the letter to be tied.

He quickly finished the letter and gave it Hedwig, as he watched her snowy wings open up and fly off he felt his hopes began to rise again, maybe he would make it to Ron's after all.

Less than an hour later the telephone rang. Harry listened to hear his uncle's curt voice answering. The conversation went deadly quiet and then:

"Boy!" Harry almost fell off of his bed, who would be calling him?

When he got downstairs his uncle handed him the phone and then watched, as if Harry had never used a telephone before.

"Harry?" Came a female voice after he said hello.

"Hermione! Why are you calling?"

"I wanted to make sure about our plans for tomorrow." She said this as if she knew Harry's uncle was listening in. "It is a long drive so can we pick up at nine?"

"Yeah, nine is fine, bye." Harry put the phone back in its cradle and then turned to his uncle. "That was my friend, she is picking me up at nine tomorrow." Harry then turned away. His uncle however was not finished with him.

"Boy, if you bring any havoc in this house then you won't be able to leave for a very long time." Beneath his eyebrows, his eyes were popping just like his wife's.

"Don't worry, Hermione's parents are muggles. They won't cause a disturbance."

How wrong he was.