Disclaimer: Seeing that this place is called I don't own any of the characters or locations you recognise from the Potterverse. I just borrowed them to have some fun and will give them back unharmed…mostly anyways.

Chapter 1: Reminiscences

July 1997

The afternoon sun was painting light flecks over every surface it could reach, tinting everything in gold and white. Unlike the previous year, when the weather had been tainted due to the Dementors' breeding, it was almost unbearable hot.

Harry sat at his window and surveyed the front yard of Number 4, Privet Drive. Although the place he had grown up at didn't hold too many happy memories for him, it had still been his home, of sorts, for the last fifteen and a half years and he felt melancholy wash over him. Despite everything he had had to endure from his relatives, he had been able to be a child, to be carefree, and that had changed the moment he had entered the wizarding world. There he had been famous since the day he had lost his parents for something he couldn't remember; there he had been envied for his fame; there he was forced to grow up far too fast because his life was in danger from the one person who had killed his parents and tried to regain his body and his power by destroying him. Lord Voldemort hadn't been able to kill him that night at the graveyard, but he had had one of his classmates killed before Harry's eyes just because he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. The following year he had tried to find another way to vanquish him and it had cost Harry the closest thing to a father he had ever known. And only the month before had been the funeral of one Albus Dumbledore, who had been both Harry's mentor and guardian.

Harry sighed; no matter how many times he thought that trough, there was just no way he could have acted differently, no way that he might have been able to stop it from happening. But the most disturbing thing of all had been the headmaster's face: peaceful, like he was just sleeping, and a soft smile gracing his lips. Wasn't he supposed to look horrified, shocked, sad or, at the very least, disappointed? After all, he had told Harry on more than one occasion that he trusted Snape, every time Harry had mentioned that he shouldn't to be exact, and that he had a good reason to, although he couldn't tell Harry because it was private.

Harry swore softly; just why where his thoughts always going down that road these days? All he had done since he had arrived at his relatives' was brooding about that specific topic, nothing had been able to distract him, not even Pig, who had delivered a letter from Ron and Hermione a few days ago telling him that they would collect him in the late evening of July 31rst, today.

Stretching and yawning while standing up Harry looked over to the sleeping form of his loyal friend. The snowy white owl was sitting in her cage, quite content with the knowledge that she would be able to get out of there whenever she wanted. Harry smirked; he had 'accidentally' broken the hinges of the cage's door so it couldn't be closed anymore. He had never really liked it when he had had to put her there, it just wasn't right to put any being in any form cage, with exceptions, of course. He'd rather the Death Eaters were in Azkaban than walking freely and raping, torturing and murdering innocent people, whether they where magical or not.

Walking over to his bed he picked up the book he had been reading, Snape's old potions book. The man certainly knew his subject if he was able to find better, and faster, ways of brewing potions in his sixth year and probably earlier if his comments were any indication. Harry had always been fascinated of potions, of creating something with his mind and hands rather than his wand, no thanks to Snape there though. He still didn't understand why the Potions Master hated him so much. Sure, they had shown their dislike for one another openly during the last two years and his behaviour towards the man probably hadn't helped matters, but Harry had only reacted to the way his professor had acted around him, he hadn't started this, had he? He could still remember the very first time they had looked at each other on the night of his sorting, when he had thought that Snape didn't like him. He had been proven wrong during his first potions lesson; it wasn't that Snape didn't like him- he obviously hated him. Later he had learnt that that was because of how James, his father, had treated him when they had been at school together. He snorted at that thought. 'Really, I know how much I look like dad, but that's a rather ridicules reason to hate someone on first sight; and here I thought the man was smart, well… But I'm one to talk, not learning for a subject just because the teacher is a git; honestly, I have always learnt for my benefit, not anyone else's- not that anyone else has ever bothered anyway, aside from Hermione perhaps. But it was the truth when I said that I've learned more from this book than from Snape in five years; oh, the irony of that… I'd bet it would amuse him, too.'

He put the book in his trunk and closed and locked it after making sure he hadn't forgotten anything as he'd packed earlier that day. Then he took out his wand and shrunk it- being able to do magic outside school definitely had its advantages. Hedwig would take it with her, together with her cage, when they were leaving later as he had decided to let her fly rather than him carrying her; he doubted very much she would like apparating.

Sighing again as he surveyed his bedroom he looked at his watch; it was a quarter to five. Perhaps he should make tea, his uncle would be back from work soon and a cup of hot tea and the newspaper always helped him to calm down after dealing with his clients and the traffic- and his new secretary who couldn't even spell right, if his bad mood the week before wasn't an exaggeration on his uncle's part- "How did that moron of a woman ever finish school?"- which was very likely.

He walked out of his bedroom and closed the door behind him before descending the stairs and walking into the kitchen where he took the kettle out of the cupboard, filled it with water and sat it onto the stove. Then he set the table for two, as Dudley had gone swimming with his friends and wouldn't be back before dinner, being careful to put the paper beside his uncle's plate. The water had just started to boil when he heard the car driving up the frond yard. While he finished the tea his aunt came into the kitchen. She stared at him for a moment before taking cookies out of a cupboard and setting them on the table, too, together with Harry's cup and another plate for him.

Almost two hours later Harry returned to his bedroom and lay down on his bed. He had actually had tea with his aunt and uncle; sure, they had been civil to each other for the most part of his stay, especially he and his aunt, but that had been the first time, ever, that they had sat together as a true family. They had even had a pleasant talk, or as much a pleasant talk you could have with Vernon Dursley when he had just come home from work.

Looking at his watch again Harry decided to take a nap, it would be a long night and some extra sleep would not go amiss. Because of the wards coming down shortly before midnight Hermione and Ron would collect him around eleven and then they would take a walk before apparating away- Apparation was traceable, after all, and he didn't want the Death Eaters to know where exactly his relatives lived. He might have made it more than clear in the past that he didn't like them much, but he didn't want to take any chance of Voldemort using them as a bait to get to him.

He woke up groaning; there it was again, it had disturbed his sleep for the last weeks and it was getting on his nerves, although his lack of sleep didn't leave him tired or exhausted at all; if anything, he felt more refreshed than ever before. But what was this feeling? Pain wasn't the right name for it; sometimes it was uncomfortable and he had the feeling he would explode any moment, but at other times he was wonderfully warm all over and he felt like he was glowing from within, or like he was being embraced by someone who loved him- that thought usually brought a smile to his face. But the fact that he didn't know what it was annoyed him to no end.

He hadn't told anyone of this yet as he really didn't want to ad to their worries, although that annoying little voice called conscience kept telling him that he was being stupid, to which he simply replied that 'maybe he just didn't want to tell anyone anyway'.

Yawning he sat up and rubbed his eyes, noting that it was close to half past ten already and that he should get ready. A soft hoot from the window told him that Hedwig had already been hunting and that she was waiting to get going. So, smiling at her, he shrunk the cage with a flick of his wand and tied it to his miniature trunk before tying both to the owl's leg, petting her gently, "You already know where to take this, girl; I'll see you there." With another hoot and a loving nip at his finger she took off.

Taking one last look around his bedroom he walked to the door. After closing it behind him he walked down the steps, careful not to make a sound. At the bottom he noticed that there was still light in the living room and he walked over only to find his aunt sitting alone on the sofa holding a tattered looking photo box and looking at something inside.

As if sensing him she looked up and the sad smile she gave him startled him. Standing up she motioned for him to come closer. The photos where old, at least twenty years, and he realised that they were of his aunt and another little girl that was, no doubt, his mother, together with what seemed to be their parents. Harry stared at them for a moment before raising troubled eyes to his aunt's. "You know, I did love my sister once and, if I'm honest with myself, I always did and still do. But, obviously, I let my jealousy get the best of me and it made me hate her and everything that was connected to her in any way, including you. I had actually forgotten that we were almost inseparable when Lily was still going to primary school, before we learnt that she was a witch." She reached into the box and took something out, giving it to Harry. It was a silver medallion, quite simple, but beautiful; a lily was engraved on its front and a dove on its back. Opening it he looked at the picture that was held within. There were two girls in the front, one with blonde hair and grey-blue eyes that looked about thirteen and another, smaller one with reddish-brown hair and sparkling green eyes that looked about ten. Their parents were standing behind them, a kind looking woman with light-brown hair and the same grey-blue eyes as Petunia and a laughing man with red hair and blue-green eyes. All four were waving into the camera, looking quite happy. "I had this made for Lily's eleven's birthday- before that letter came. But then all this happened and I was so angry that I didn't talk to her again before she went to that school of yours and by the time she came back I had forgotten about it. I just found this box when I was looking at old photos." Harry had the feeling that she wasn't telling him everything, but he didn't pry; her sister had always been a sore topic for his aunt and he didn't want to destroy the understanding he had reached with her.

As he was about to give it back she held up her hand, "No, keep it. I can't give it to Lily anymore, but I want you to have it. Besides, you don't have any photos of our parents, do you?" Harry shook his head. "Thank you."

He put the medallion's chain around his neck, hiding it beneath his shirt. As he looked at the clock he saw that its hands were showing that it was almost eleven. His aunt noticed this, too. Harry nodded in silent goodbye and turned to the door. He was startled for a moment when he heard her following him, but let it be.

Stepping out of the house Harry gave one last look at his aunt who was standing in the doorway, before turning around and walking down the front drive and onto the pavement.

Petunia Dursley stood there until she saw her nephew walking up to three others who had waited just a few steps down the road, before the four of them left in the direction of the park. She looked after them until they were out of sight, knowing that it was most likely the last time she would ever see her sister's only child, before closing the door again.

AN: Sorry for the long wait, but I already warned you that I didn't have too much time and I wanted to correct as many mistakes as possible before putting it up and I'm still not 100 percent sure I like how this turned out. But I hope you like it anyway. I can't promise anything, but I will try to be faster with the next chapter and I'll try to make it longer.

Celes