A/N: WOW! I uploaded at lunch time and I already have 6 reviews! Not to mention 11 favourites and 24 alerts! I love you guys!

This is for JasonMorganfan87 who helped me with some info I needed. Thanks!

Disclaimer: See chap 1.

Chapter 2

Harry rolled over, the midday sun shining onto him. He was bored. Very bored. Very, very, very, very, extremely bored. The Dursley's had been ignoring him all summer. Now, normally that wouldn't bother him but they had locked all his books, wand, broom, absolutely everything in the cupboard under the stairs. This meant he spent all his time thinking. Consequently he was in a funk as the majority of his thoughts revolved around how he could have prevented the department of mysteries fiasco and saved his godfathers life. The door began to rattle as the chains and bolts were being drawn back. The door opened and Petunia strode in then almost immediately back out again. She obviously expected him to follow. As they descended the stairs Harry glanced at the steps, longingly wishing he had his books. He continued to follow her until they reached the kitchen, he recognized the set up immediately. Aunt Petunia had decided he needed a haircut. Wonderful. Resigned to his fate, or rather, his hairs fate, he sat in the stiff backed chair covered in plastic tarpaulin. Harry had always hated having hair cuts because the Dursleys did everything they could to make a mess that Harry would have to clean up. Thankfully Harry wasn't wearing any new or decent clothes, just some of Dudley's hand-me-downs, because Aunt Petunia promptly upended a bucket of ice cold water over his head. He shivered as it ran down his back, leaving freezing trails on his skin, but he was very careful not to wriggle. If he wriggled he just ended up getting tiny cuts on his scalp where the scissors caught his skin. Petunia cheerfully started to cut, hacking off great chunks of hair and successfully annihilating any hairstyle he may have had. One large lock fell into his lap and Harry almost did a double take. His hair wasn't this light before was it? No it couldn't have been. Harry could distinctly remember Sirius calling him his raven haired godson before. But it wouldn't be good for him to dwell on Sirius. Anyway the hair in his lap was most certainly not black. It wasn't even dark brown. It was a light, mousy sort of colour. What the hell had happened in the past few weeks! Speculating ideas at what could have happened he idly fiddled with the hair in his hands. He looked down and froze. His hands had changed too. He was sure of it. There was something different. His fingers had always been short and stubby but now they were long and elegant. When his aunt finally finished destroying his hair she shoved him towards the mess on the floor. On a whim he tucked away a small lock of hair to look at closer later. Once he had mopped up the water he heaved a long suffering sigh and trudged towards his room. When he was in the hallway he decided to look in a mirror and survey the damage Petunia had caused. When caught sight of his reflection, his jaw dropped. His hair was much, much paler than it had been and it was practically blonde at the roots. His skin was pale but not in a pasty, sickly way, it was more like ivory or the skin of delicate porcelain dolls. His eyes were no longer the emeralds they had been but were light green, slowly morphing into blue. Harry stared, eyes wide, even the basic structure of his face had changed. The changes were extremely subtle but definitely there.

"BOY! Stop preening you arrogant brat."

Sighing softly, Harry called back, "Yes Uncle." Had his relatives not noticed the truth or did they truly not care?

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It was about six in the evening and Harry was sat cross legged on his bed with one of the few possessions, he had kept out of his trunk, on his lap. It was his parents photo album but ever since his second year he had been slowly adding to it and flicking through he found the photo he was after. It was a photo of him, Hermione and Ron, arms around each others shoulders and grins on their faces. Scrutinising the photo-Harry carefully, ignoring the fact that he was shying away, Harry sighed again. There was no doubt about it, there were definitely changes. Now how was he supposed to find out what changes?

Suddenly there was a flash of light and an envelope fell into Harry's lap. Enscribed on the front were three words.

'My son, Harry.'

A/N: Reviews are very much welcome, flames will be used to toast marshmallows.