Harry was quite glad he didn't have to lug his trunk down to Diagon Alley from the station as it was a long enough walk without it. He hastily passed through the Leaky Cauldron, careful to avoid anyone looking too closely, not that there were many people there apart from a few eating a meal or having a drink. The alley itself was also quite empty with only a handful of lingering shoppers.

His first stop was the large marble building at the end. When he first saw it last year, he thought it was a museum - definitely not a bank. The goblin guards either side with their pikes and glistening armour barely acknowledged him, though Harry thought they may have smiled when he waved (he wasn't actually sure if goblins could smile either).

Most counters were empty and it was one of those he went for.

'How may Gringotts be of service?' the goblin cashier asked.

Quickly removing his notepad from his backpack, he wrote, 'I would like to get some money.'

If he had to guess, the goblin was now scowling at him. 'Key?' Harry took it out of his pocket, handing it over. After a moment of inspecting, the goblin barked, 'Griphook, six-eight-seven!'

Harry thought the other goblin must have used magic to appear so quickly considering he hadn't seen Griphook around beforehand.

'Follow me,' Griphook stated, taking the key and walking off at a fast pace without looking back. Even though Harry was a little taller, he struggled to match the stride.

It was only when they got to the cart that Harry had a spare moment to jot, 'Are you the same Griphook that took my to my vault last year?'

A rough croak sounded followed by, 'All goblins have unique names. Yes, that was me.'

Before Harry could write anything else, the cart lurched forwards and he nearly lost the notebook. The rapid ride was as exciting as it was the last time. It randomly banked sharply, throwing them in different directions and even launching through the air at one point. Harry felt his stomach get left beside, above, below, behind and before him many times until it abruptly stopped, nearly throwing him out.

'I hope that was as enjoyable as last time, Mr Potter,' Griphook said, hopping out onto the ledge. Harry could only grin while the vault was opened up and he took out as much as he could fit in his backpack, including getting rid of the old clothes.

Once back in the bank itself, Harry thanked Griphook – who Harry could've sworn was blushing, at least he thought that's what it was when his face turned a darker green – and exited back into the alley. His first stop was a shop called "Terrortours" where a kind young receptionist suggested a good shop for tents and also made him quite embarrassed by asking if he had an older brother who was as cute as him.

The shop recommended was "Gulliver's Outfitters" and stood between a café and a house. After deflecting questions about where his parents were, primarily by showing he had the money for it, he bought a spacious furnished tent for one person along with what he thought would be useful items. His favourite was a camp-fire lighter that worked even when wet, though he thought he'd get more use out of the specially enchanted hamper that cleaned clothes left in it.

Once he paid for it, he realised something he may have forgotten about. As small as the tent was when magically packed up, it still took up all the space in his backpack ignoring his other possessions and remaining gold. Another few galleons fixed that with a new rucksack that was enchanted to be much lighter and hold ten times what it looked like it could.

He bought some owl treats from Eeylops Owl Emporium and stopped by Flourish & Blotts for something interesting to read, though he left without anything when he wasn't sure if it would do any good reading about magic he couldn't try. Done with his shopping, he went back to the bank and converted most of his remaining wizarding currency to pounds. Unsure of exactly how much he would need, he erred on the side of caution and left with a thousand pounds.

Finally on his way home, he stopped by a fast food restaurant for dinner before getting a train and taxi to the Dursleys. Although still fairly light, it was getting close to nine and no one was waiting his return. Sneaking into the backyard, he checked no one was looking before getting his tent out and activating it like the shopkeeper had told him. It sprang out, sitting snugly beside the wooden shed.

Harry stepped inside through the regular looking flap and ended up in a cosy lounge. Taking off his shoes, he walked over and flopped into a comfy armchair. It only had room for two chairs and a couch around a coffee table, but it already was just as big as his old room. Later on, he investigated his kitchen. The stove itself looked remarkably muggle, but instead of dials or buttons it had labelled runes; it was similar for the sink. A decent collection of cutlery and equipment filled the cupboards and draws, but Harry thought they looked quite old fashioned, adding to a shopping list. Instead of a fridge or freezer, there was a pair of labelled cupboards that had runes to keep it cold and he could change how cold he wanted them. There was also one that had magically reduced humidity, but he wasn't sure why that was important.

His bedroom was probably smaller than his old one, except that it had a walk-in wardrobe that was nearly half as big as the room itself. It also had an on-suite bathroom with toilet, shower and sink. They too were all rune operated and he couldn't help but be curious if normal magical homes were this dependent on runes. If they were, he thought it would probably be a neat thing to know.

Lying in bed after an exhausting day, he tapped a rune beside his bed, the ambient light, which didn't seem to have a source, dimmed down into darkness. Falling asleep, Harry loved the thought that he didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast.

A few weeks later and Harry couldn't be happier with what he had christened "Potter's Portable Palace", now complete with an assembled flat-pack bookcase, small dining table and stackable chairs, muggle cooking and eating utensils, a decent supply of food and a beautiful snowy owl. He had thought the name a bit over-the-top, but "Harry's Hut" didn't fit as far as he was concerned.

Despite his luxurious lifestyle, compared to what he would have had with his relatives, Harry already found himself incredibly bored. While he enjoyed reading, he did have his limit and that was about three hours of solid reading. Hedwig found herself with one or two letters a week starting after a few days.

Hoping that the only reason he managed to write to Lupin before was due to being away from Hogwarts, he had sent another one. Harry still didn't know what disease Lupin had, but he guessed that his parents probably knew about it and didn't care, so he asked if they had asked Lupin to stay away or not. It seemed the right thing to say and ask as he did get a reply and it was much open than the last. Harry may not have known what was wrong with Lupin, but he did know that Lupin was very good friends with his parents. Harry's next letter was mainly a long list of questions he had: when did his parents meet; did James become a koala animagus; was Lily better at charms than Professor Flitwick; where did they grow up. There were many others, easily taking up pages.

Lupin's reply to his enthusiastic letter kept him busy for the day. If he was honest, it was more an essay than a letter, but Harry knew he had gone overboard with the amount of questions and Lupin was a good writer. There were short stories for most answers, though it was simply "no" for his question about his dad being a koala animagus.

Hermione had gotten his message before leaving and had asked her parents. They agreed that he could come over when ever he wanted over the holiday, as long as he had his guardian's permission and that at least one of them was there. He was disappointed that it would be a fortnight before he saw her, but that was certainly better than not seeing anyone until Neville's birthday.

Most of the others were to Neville, Susan and Hannah, who seemingly shared his problem of being extremely bored, though Susan and Hannah had plans to meet up at least once a week.

While he could spend the day outside to do something fun, Dudley and his gang seemed to still be up to their old tricks and would hang around the local park spooking younger kids. Harry purposefully avoided any and all contact with his relatives by only going out early in the morning or late in the evening. All he had to do was buy bits of food and it didn't take long to do.

Luckily, today was the day Hermione and her parents would be returning from Spain. The next morning he made an early escape.

It was surprising how little attention he seemed to gather in the muggle world after a year in the wizarding one. Even at Diagon Alley he had a stare or two, but mostly managed to avoid people's gaze by moving quickly and keeping his hair over his scar. A bit of thinking put the muggles indifference down to the small growth spurt he had been on, especially since he added all the extra fruit and veg to his diet.

The buses took a while, but he got there eventually. It was the same door, but seemed a little more intimidating after the months that had passed. A knock and all he had to do was wait.

'Hel- Harry!' Hermione cried, yanking the door back and gesturing wildly. He noticed her bronzed arms and relative lack of clothing compared to the all-encompassing Hogwarts clothing. She pulled him upstairs, her shorts showing off her equally tanned legs. 'Mum! Dad! Harry's here!'

Her parents were in the spare room, adding books to a bookcase acquired since his last visit. Based on what he saw, it was reserved for foreign languages, being laden with French, Spanish and Portuguese books.

'It's good to see you, Harry,' Cleo said, smiling, while she bent over to give him a kiss on both cheeks. She let out a light laugh standing back up at the pink tinges she left. 'A standard greeting for the Europeans, I assure you. There's no way Hermione would let me steal you that easily.'

Hermione glared at her mother, but kept her tongue stilled.

David shook Harry's hand, repeating the gesture of, 'It's good to see you,' before continuing with, 'You've practically doubled in height since we last saw you!'

A little unnerved by being the centre of attention, Harry slipped back to beside Hermione. Rather than aiding him, she said, 'Well, what do you expect now he's eating properly instead of just bacon and eggs. Honestly, the way he was, I wouldn't have been surprised to find he was related to Ron!'

Apparently her parents were well-clued on the who's-who of Hogwarts as both chuckled. Cleo moved first, asking, 'How have you been since the end of term?' It was an innocent question, but there was a subtle shift in how Cleo and David stood.

Harry got out his notebook and wrote, 'Bored. Lots of letters and reading,' her parents holding it between them while Hermione watched him write.

Cleo smiled, but it wasn't the same as when he first arrived. 'Still, it looks like you've been shopping. I guess those old clothes wouldn't have fitted you anymore, would they?'

'Never did really. Got some money from my vault and went to a shop in London. I think the girl there wanted to use me as a dress-up doll, because I tried on lots more clothes than I bought.'

'Oh?' David inquired, enjoying Hermione's tensing up, 'Could you tell us more about the girl you met?'

Harry was surprised by the request, but agreed, adding, 'Sarah's 16 and works there for the summer. She's going to sixth-form in September and is studying maths, physics, English and French. Her younger brother is my age and her younger sister is 14. She kept teasing me because I told her I was a big boy, but it wasn't mean, I guess it was like how she teases her little brother.'

'Did you like the holiday cards I sent?' Hermione blurted out after he stopped writing but before her parents finished reading. He looked back at her confused, so she added, 'We found the magical place in Spain like Diagon Alley, so every other day we went there and I sent off some cards on an owl. Didn't you get them?' Harry shook his head and she said, 'Huh.'

David sighed, saying, 'Well princess, you will just have to tell him about everything then. Before you do, may I ask Harry if he can stay for lunch and dinner? If not, I fear there won't be enough time.'

After Harry nodded and smiled, Hermione dragged him out of the room and started reciting, 'Well, first we went to Heathrow...'

If one wasn't the wiser, it would be easy to think Harry lived at the Granger's. Like with Easter, Cleo and David alternated days at their practice so that someone was always home to supervise the organised mayhem that went on.

The second day, as the first was a near to real-time account of the Spanish holiday, was spent with Hermione checking over his already completed summer assignments (she had done hers before bed each night) and suggesting areas he could improve. Taking pity, David had Harry help him move the summer garden furniture out of their shed after lunch while Hermione double-checked for spelling mistakes.

After that, it was different everyday. They would visit the park one day, play board games the next, he would try to teach her to draw on a few, she would try to teach him some French too (she knew a bit of Spanish and Portuguese, but was much better with French). Some days were spent reading, but he tried to avoid those ones having read enough for the rest of the summer as it was. Combined with the odd trip to the movies – Harry insisted on paying for himself this time – and various museums and historical sites and July passed before he knew it.

Harry did know when it was the 30th though. While he had asked Hermione if she could accompany him, after checking it was okay with Neville, he was still by himself waiting for both her and Dumbledore. He didn't blame Hermione for being a little late as she would have gotten up early.

When a car did pull up in front of him, he grinned. The front door, on the passenger side, opened and Hermione slowly got out, making sure her sparkling sapphire dress didn't catch. She timidly approached before looking down shyly.

'Daddy's just here until Dumbledore gets us,' she said.

Getting his notebook out, he wrote, 'That's a very nice dress.'

She blushed, replying, 'You scrub up nicely too.'

Before he could continue, Dumbledore arrived. There was something about the look Dumbledore was giving him that made him feel like he had done wrong. Of course, he had somewhat ignored warnings Dumbledore had given him, but it was the silent judgement that got to him.

Dumbledore led them down the road from where he had come in silence. It was quite a surprise to end up knocking on the door of Mrs Figgs, an elderly woman who enjoyed the company of a platoon of cats, where he had spent some nights when the Dursleys wanted to go out without him. Even if she was a little, well, strange, Harry enjoyed his time there because she would let him have proper food and even cake the one time too. It didn't hurt that she was nice and never hurt him. He, of course, never let on that he liked going there, otherwise the Dursleys may have put an end to it.

'Hello again, Arabella,' Dumbledore said, giving her a smile.

She stepped back, beckoning them in. 'Come in, quickly now. Your friend too.'

While walking to the lounge, Dumbledore explained, 'Arabella is a squib. She has been here to keep an eye on you, Harry, at my request since you were placed here. At the moment, we are borrowing her fireplace to floo to Mr Longbottom's house.' Now in front of the fireplace, he picked up a small pot filled with emerald powder. Pinching a bit and throwing it in turned the flames a similarly green colour. 'Longbottom Manor!' he announced, stepping into the flames.

Harry nearly fell over at the stupidity.

'Ladies first,' he jotted for Hermione. Slightly pink, she stepped into the fire after stating her destination.

'Help?' he wrote, handing it to Mrs Figgs.

'Oh, of course,' she said as he added some powder. 'Longbottom Manor!'

She returned the notebook then Harry stepped through, though wished he hadn't. Unlike the goblin carts, the experience was more disorientating than exhilarating, despite the similarly random and impulsive course he took as he flew passed grates.

Eventually it gave way to a room and he found himself stumbling out of it, landing awkwardly on his hip. Groaning in pain, he struggled to his feet and rubbed his side.

'W-welcome Harry, very elegant,' Neville managed after a snort of laughter. For his part, Harry scowled back, but it was hard to keep up with Hannah and Susan openly laughing at him. The girls had dresses on, bright gold for Hannah and midnight blue for Susan, while Neville had robes of perfect black with a copper trim. Harry felt out of place in his trouser-blazer combo, cursing his stupidity at being formally dressed for a muggle. He supposed the bright side was that, if he were wearing robes, his less than graceful entrance would have included some flashing of what was beneath the robes. Hermione also shared their amusement, but was dignified in her chuckling.

From his pocket, Harry pulled out a pre-written birthday message and a posh-looking envelope containing several packs of seeds. It gave him a strange thought that most magical people had an obsession that made any gift in that area appreciated: Hermione with books; Neville with plants; Hagrid with dangerous animals; Ron with quidditch; Malfoy with hair-care products; Snape with potions ingredients. He could go on, but it seemed he was the last guest and so was led out of the entrance hall, with the headmaster saying his good-byes, and into a dining room of sorts.

Neville had told him a lot about what was going to happen. As tradition dictated, the morning was filled with close friends and family for breakfast, followed by the opening of presents and exchanges of gratitudes and other conversation. Lunch would signal the start of formality and would include important business related peoples and people who were just friends or good acquaintances. This would lead to several hours of polite discussions about everything that had happened since everyone had last talked to every other person. After that, dinner and a ball, at which point it was opened up to virtually everyone who knew the birthday person or their family and weren't on bad terms.

Luckily, as Neville wasn't of age yet, it would be scaled down a lot. It would just be them, along with his grandmother, for the morning. Hannah's parents and Susan's aunt would join them in the afternoon and a few other children from Hogwarts and their families would join for the ball.

Harry enjoyed catching up with his other friends in person during a delicious breakfast. Neville gave them a tour of his greenhouses after, showing off the fruits of his labour and managing to completely miss the other three leaving him and Hannah to herbology discussions.

Susan dragged them over to a small pond with aquatic plants and took a seat on a well-placed bench. Hermione took the time to see how much homework Susan had done and then proceeded to scold her when she revealed she had done none of it ('Me and Hannah were going to do it on the weekend, honest!') while Harry opted to do a little sketching.

Eventually Neville got them and brought them inside for lunch where everyone else was waiting. Based on how Susan reacted to her aunt Amelia's look, Harry thought it must equate to "What have you been off doing?" It quickly ended when Neville timidly stood and thanked everyone for coming and starting the fantastic feast.

Meeting Hannah's parents, Helen and Nigel, was enlightening as far as Harry was concerned. She felt very differently, especially when they told him she had had a Harry Potter poster on her wall until she got back for summer. However, he didn't think she would ever forgive them when they let slip she had sent him a letter asking him to marry her when she was seven. Regardless, Harry saw where she got her timid but good-natured personality as he thoroughly enjoyed the stories.

Amelia was much colder, but seemed to warm up by the end. Her first question, much to Harry's confusion, was, 'What does Susan mean to you?' Telling her that Susan was like the big sister he always wanted seemed a good answer, since Amelia went on to tell him a bit about her job as head of the DMLE, which was like the muggle police, and a few embarrassing stories about Susan ('Aunty! How could you tell him I named my teddy after him?')

When it seemed like he and Hermione were getting off unscathed, Hermione told Amelia about their stupidity contract, which led to some teasing and a retaliatory story of Harry's own. This led to the adult's amusement as Harry and Hermione revealed every story they knew that mortified the other ('Hermione fell asleep reading Hogwarts: A Historyin the common room five times her first month!' 'Harry nearly burnt his bed down when he used his wand instead of a quill to write!' 'Madam Pince threatened to ban her from the library after she tried to sneak into the restricted section!' 'Harry didn't know his left from his right until I taught him!')

As great as things were going, it was soured for Harry by Neville's grandmother when she started telling stories. He wasn't sure why everyone else laughed when she said they thought Neville was a squib his great-uncle Algie dropped him out a second story window and he bounced, nor what was so hilarious about being unable to cast a lumos until she threatened to take away his night-lamp before he left for Hogwarts. All in all, he thought she was being quite cruel, but Neville was the only other person who seemed to share his opinion.

When dinner popped up, Harry was getting tired. The good food gave him a second-wind though and he was fine when the other guests started to arrive. Most of the Gryffindor first year and a couple of other Hufflepuffs arrived. Padma, Parvati Patil's twin sister, also came along with Su Li from Ravenclaw. Quite a surprise for Harry was the arrival of Daphne Greengrass and her younger sister Astoria. When asked about her, Neville muttered something about doing his duty to help those tempted by evil. Harry wasn't sure, but suspected Augusta was involved.

Things became tricky from then onwards for Harry. When the music started, he became very aware that he didn't know how to dance and doubted he could. Upon trying to sneak out, Lavender Brown, of the now infamous Lav and Pav gossip and style gurus, accosted him and dragged him onto the dance floor, insisting she had the first dance.

If he attended any future gatherings where embarrassing stories were to be told, Harry was confident his attempts at dancing would be included. The problem for him wasn't so much being uncomfortably close to Lavender, though that didn't help, but that he had no idea where to put his feet. It didn't help that she had announced her intention to dance at the top of her voice, effectively making them the centre of attention.

Quite possibly the only person not laughing when she gave up trying to coax some kind of rhythm out of him was little Astoria who asked if she could have the next dance. Harry thought it was the same insanity that drove shy little Hannah to ask him to marry her before they had even met. That didn't mean she didn't look heartbroken when he wrote, 'It's better for your feet if we didn't dance.' Honestly, he felt like he had kicked a puppy when the first tear appeared, so he regretfully gave in. Somehow she avoided flattened toes, but it still looked less elegant than a bull in a china shop.

No one asked him for a dance after that and he couldn't blame them. Perhaps the only thing stopping him from slinking off was the slightly better efforts of some of the other boys (somehow all the girls looked like they had been born dancing – he put it down to secret girls-only classes at Hogwarts) which had relieved some of the humiliation he felt.

When it was finally time to go, there was a few minutes of mingling to exchange good-byes. When Harry did so with the Greengrass family, Matt, Daphne's father, said, 'A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter – I look forward to arranging a marriage contract between you and our little Astoria.'

Harry froze mid-handshake and only realised it was a joke when Daphne scowled, saying, 'Father! As if he doesn't hate Slytherins enough as is without your teasing!'

When Harry gained enough of his wits, he replied with, 'Not Slytherins, just idiots like Malfoy.'

Her look at him was off-putting, but didn't linger as her father bustled the family along to the next set of guests, Seamus Finnigan and his family taking their place. The end did finally arrive and it was just Harry and Hermione with Dumbledore.

Like before, it was a silent affair after getting to Mrs Figg's house and walking down the street. Hermione's dad was waiting and Dumbledore greeted him, wishing them a good trip before the Grangers departed for home.

Based on the twilight, Harry thought it a little after nine. Dumbledore seemed pensieve before turning to Harry with a look of disappointment. They stood in silence, Harry realising that Dumbledore expected him to confess his wrongdoings. The weight of the twinkling blue eyes was intense, but Harry held on. He knew Dumbledore wanted him to admit to going to the Grangers so he could forbid him from doing so, but Harry wouldn't give in. If it wasn't that, then he'd be surprised as Hedwig hadn't let him know Dumbledore was intercepting his letters to Lupin.

'Goodnight, Mr Potter,' Dumbledore eventually said, raising his gaze to the front door of the Dursleys. Harry dipped his head in a reciprocal gesture, turning to take the path to the back garden. He was confident Dumbledore was still eyeing him, but, for once, Harry felt safe going home.

Author Notes

A slow chapter for a slow summer. Potter's Portable Palace, or 3P for short, is set up as a pre-teen bachelor pad and promises to be around for a while. Marriage contracts (most probably) won't play a part at any point nor peculiar customs that mean if you do X then you're married, but never say never and all is fair in pranks and war. A formal day of celebrations seems the sort of tradition I would expect of wizards and thought it a nice thing to include to bring together some people. I've also gone for a more abstract than intimate way of description, primarily so I don't extend a birthday to three chapters. I'm hoping it's a mutual agreement, but I doubt I could have written several hours of conversation, so it's really the best option for everyone.

Unstorily, I didn't manage to squeeze an extra chapter. It's at times like this that I'm confident writing shares properties with non-Newtonian fluids in that the more they're forced, the harder they get. Perhaps switching to a once-weekly schedule with occasional extra chapter would be a better idea for my conscience. At the moment, I'm trying to split my free time equally between reading and writing, but the next chapter is always too good to wait and feeds my guilt of a lack of typing.

Until next time, rogue house-elves are bad for your health.