A/N - Some people have been curious about the book I had Harry buy, so I figured I'd clarify. No, it's not a dark arts book, and it's not even a particularly good book. However, it does contain some information that is critical to the magic system I'm trying to set up. It doesn't appear in this chapter, but you'll be seeing a lot of it next chapter.

Harry woke up with a pained gasp as his head thunked onto the floor. His legs were once again tangled in his sheets, and sweat covered his body from another horrifying nightmare about Voldemort. Harry awkwardly pulled his legs out of the covers, causing the rest of his body to thud on the floor next to him. Thankfully, the floor was spotlessly clean due to Aunt Petunia's ministrations, but cleanliness didn't exactly equal comfort, as his head could attest to.

Harry groaned and raised himself to a sitting position. His body was sore from running and weeding the garden yesterday, the latter of which consumed his entire afternoon. Aunt Petunia was an absolute slave driver when it came to her begonias.

Climbing to his feet, Harry noticed that Hedwig was still asleep. He was thankful for it, because her screeching on top of the noise from him falling out of bed would have likely woken the Dursleys. A quick glance at his bedside clock revealed the time to be 5:32am. It was much earlier than he was used to waking up, but the dream was much too vivid for him to be able to go back to sleep, and his heart was still racing in his chest. Already, his memory of the dream was slipping away, but he knew the gist of it all the same.

Darkness. Destruction. Death.

He tossed on some clothes, grabbed his wand, and headed downstairs. Harry was painfully aware of the mundane pattern that was beginning to develop, and it made him ache longingly for the excitement and adventure of Hogwarts. As he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, the silence and sterility of the house was suffocating. He was again reminded that there was no laughter, no joy, to be found at #4 Privet Drive.

Harry popped a biscuit into the toaster and poured himself a glass of milk. Sitting by himself at the Dursley's dinner table in their dark kitchen was always one of the saddest parts of his annual summer holidays. It reminded him that here, in his home, he was absolutely alone. Finishing up his breakfast, Harry once again removed the evidence of his 'transgression' and cleaned up the dishes. Sighing, he looked at the clock. It was only 5:49.

He had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. There were very few things that he could do to entertain himself silently, and none of them sounded particularly appealing. He could start his homework, but he doubted that even Hermione had started her homework this early into the holidays. He knew that Petunia woke up at 7:30am for her morning cleaning, and if she noticed he was gone, she'd assign him even more chores. But, there was honestly nothing for it. Really, it was much too oppressive in this house to stay indoors. He had felt much better after running yesterday, despite the unfortunate series of events that occurred afterwards. Even if he got caught, he could admit to himself that he might prefer the extra chores to total monotony.

Harry stealthily unlocked the door and headed outside, breathing in the thick English air. It was slightly foggy this morning, and his skin was soon moist from the humidity. It wasn't really a good morning to go running, and Harry knew he was chancing it as it was. But alas, there are very few forces in this world as unpredictable and impetuous as a bored teenage boy, and so he started running once again.

His thighs and calves immediately protested the action, but Harry was no stranger to pain. He merely gritted his teeth and kept going at a faster pace. Soon, he was several streets away from Privet Drive, and the path ahead was obscured by dense fog. His skin was drenched in a mixture of humidity and sweat, and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his back. Still, he ran on, heedless to his discomfort, and mindful only of the repetitious motion of left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, breath, breath, breath. Harry was rather lost, but he took comfort in the wand stashed away in his jeans and the knowledge that he was out and about and doing something.

However, as countless minutes went by, and as Harry's breath grew more and more labored, he became aware of a rather uneasy sensation. Somehow, in some way, Harry perceived that he was being watched. Followed, even. Harry stopped abruptly, and then immediately cursed himself for doing so - now whatever was following him knew that he knew. Harry crouched down instinctively and began scrutinizing the fog that hung lazily all around him. There was no eerie chill or coldness that signaled a dementor attack, but every shape that materialized seemed vaguely threatening. The fog swirled around him ominously, muffling the sounds of the outside world. Harry grasped his wand, and called out breathlessly "Hello? Anybody there?" He waited for long moments, but there was only silence.

Harry shook his head as if clearing off flies, and decided that the fog was making him paranoid. He turned around and went to stow his wand back into his pocket, but suddenly there was a massive racket to his right that sounded suspiciously like someone knocking over rubbish bins, followed by a chain of curses that were vulgar enough to make a pixie blush.

Harry smiled – he knew that voice.

"Tonks! I know it's you! Come on out!" called out Harry. There were a few more seconds of silence before someone gave a loud huff of frustration.

"Wotcher, Harry! I'm supposed to be undercover," admitted Tonks, finally appearing out of the fog. "Not that you make it easy! I mean bloody hell, you think I want to be running after you in the wee hours of the morning?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, especially considering the state of her dishevelment. Her normally vivid pink hair was a mousy brown and was plastered onto her head by a rather disgusting amount of sweat.

Tonks glared at him ferociously for a few moments before finally cracking a thin smile. "What exactly are you doing, running around this early?" she asked with exasperation. "You know it's not safe to go too far away from the Dursleys. Hell, it's not safe for you anywhere. There's a guard on your house 24/7. Mudungus Fetcher said he nearly had a heart attack keeping up with you yesterday. I thought he was just exaggerating, but now I know that he was actually telling the truth for once."

Harry was not surprised to learn that he was being guarded, but it rankled on his nerves to know that they were purposefully trying to keep him in the dark about it. He felt a small thrill of satisfaction at being able to outrun his guard, and it seemed like his little adventure had escaped being noticed by sheer dumb luck. He could only assume that Mudungus didn't want to admit that he had lost Harry and so had kept the whole thing quiet. However, seeing Tonks' panting form, he also felt a tad guilty for making the Order's job harder. After all, she didn't have to give up part of her day to keep him safe, and he sincerely doubted that she was getting paid for it. It seemed like a bit of honesty would be the best policy in this case.

"I've been having nightmares," Harry admitted, looking down at the sidewalk. "About Voldemort. And Sirius. Running helps me clear my head. I'm sorry, I didn't know I was making things harder for you."

Tonks' face grew solemn, and her mouth twisted into a sympathetic frown. "Look, don't apologize. I told them that we should've told you about the guard; it's not your fault that you didn't know. You just didn't hear it from me. But hey," she said hesitantly, suddenly sounding much more awkward, "If you ever need any help, or want to talk to somebody…about, you know…"

"Yeah, err, thanks Tonks," said Harry, equally uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He went running to forget about Sirius, not to remember him.

"So, can we head back?" asked Tonks, flipping some of her bedraggled hair out of her face.

Really, thought Harry, she might be able to out-duel me, but she's got nothing on me on the stamina department

"Sure, I think I'm done for today anyway," agreed Harry, turning around. The two of them started walking at a leisurely place, and the thinning fog seemed much less ominous to Harry now that he was with someone.

"Wait, you aren't actually thinking about running again tomorrow, are you?" entreated Tonks, looking incredibly put-out by the idea. "I have guard duty for you every morning this week!"

"Well, yeah, I don't have much else to do. You should join me, it looks like you could use the workout," said Harry flippantly.

In the blink of an eye, Tonks had her wand out and wavering dangerously a few inches in front of Harry's face. "Did you just call me fat?" she practically growled, her wand sending out frightening red sparks.

"No! No!" protested Harry, backpedaling immediately. Poor Harry had never truly learned the cardinal rule of women, and was now paying the price. "I just meant, you seem really tired is all! It might give you an edge if you were more athletic than the other aurors! But really, you're beautiful the way you are, and intelligent, and gorgeous, and funny, and I'm an idiot and I'm so so sorry."

After spitting out a few more sparks, Tonks' wand finally lowered, and she appeared to be slightly mollified. With a curt nod, she continued walking again, and Harry followed after her, making sure to keep a safe distance this time.

Women were nutters.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Harry noticed that the fog was really starting to clear up. Somehow, that made things seem lighter, and he regained enough confidence to ask, "So, how come you could shoot out sparks without the Ministry noticing?"

"What?" asked Tonks, who hadn't really been paying attention.

"Well, I was blamed for a hover charm a house elf did in my second year," explained Harry, "and then they tried to charge me for casting the patronus charm last year. How come you could send out sparks? I figured they'd be monitoring this area as close as possible."

"Harry, both of those are actual spells," said Tonks. She must have felt bad for overreacting earlier, because she was in a particularly informative mood. "Shooting out sparks barely registers on the Ministry's radar, no more than short bursts of accidental magic. Besides, with Fudge on the way out, you can rest assured that it'd be a political disaster for him to accuse you of anything, especially after the debacle he made of trying to deny your account of Voldemort's return."

"So what? Are you saying I can use magic now?" asked Harry excitedly. Possibilities immediately began swirling in his head, from getting his chores done quicker to tormenting Dudley.

"Absolutely not," said Tonks sternly. "What I am saying is that were at war, and the Ministry is hardly going to be concerned about a few sparks several miles away from the residence of Harry Potter."

Harry grew silent at that, somber and disappointed. The wizarding world was at war, and he was stuck with the Dursley's without magic for two and a half months, twiddling his thumbs. The prophecy hung over his head like a guillotine, with Voldemort poised to pull the rope to send it crashing down. Still, he thought, there might be a way to get in some practice.

"So how about it?" asked Harry.

"How about what?" replied Tonks, sparing him a confused glance.

"You go running with me in the mornings, and after, we can practice dueling. Not with spells!" Harry modified hastily, seeing the look on Tonks' face. "Just with sparks. That way I can improve my technique and you can improve your stamina – which is definitely already fine as it is!"

Tonks' face slowly morphed from one of frustration into one of sincere contemplation. Harry had no idea what she was thinking, but crossed his fingers behind his back and fervently hoped that she would say yes.

"Alright Harry, you've got yourself a deal," she said, her face emotionless even as Harry let out a celebratory cheer. "BUT! It'd have to stay strictly between us, for the time being. And it'd have to be on my schedule, because I never know when something might come up at the office."

"Thank you Tonks! That's perfect, you have no idea how much that'll help!" said Harry excitedly, absolutely thrilled at the idea of having something to do this summer other than run and do chores. But not just something – something magical, something that could actually help him beat Voldemort.

"I have some idea," she said sarcastically, but with a small grin. "I don't know why they're making you stay here, but if you're going to end up facing… him… again, it's better that you're prepared."

After that, Harry and Tonks continued walking back to the Dursleys, the trip taking much longer now that they were walking instead of running. They chatted about the upcoming dueling practice, which Tonks absolutely refused to call 'dueling' and instead referred to as 'practicing.' They planned to 'practice' every evening after dinner at 7pm, which was the time that the Dursleys deemed acceptable for him to leave the house if his chores were finished (and when Tonks happened to get off work), until Harry's curfew of 10pm, which was the latest time the Dursley's deemed acceptable for him to be out and about. Harry thanked Tonks profusely, and repeatedly assured her that he wouldn't slack during their lessons. Tonks shrugged off Harry's thank-you's, and repeatedly reminded him that their lessons were to remain a secret. When they finally got back to #4 Privet Drive, it was nearing 7am, and the sun was already shining.

"Well, it's time for me to go incognito again," said Tonks, with barely a hint of a smile. Harry, who has always prized himself on understanding female emotions better than Ron Weasley, couldn't help but notice that Tonks had been much more reserved and gloomy than she normally was. At first, he had thought she was just angry at him for making her run, but now he realized that it was something deeper that was troubling her.

"Hey Tonks, are you alright?" queried Harry hesitantly. He didn't exactly fancy being on the receiving end of her wrath twice in one day.

"Yeah Harry, I'm fine," she said absently. "Nothing for you to worry over."

"I mean, if you're sure. Like you said to me earlier, if you ever want to talk…" offered Harry.

For some reason, this seemed to amuse her more than anything he had said earlier. "Thanks, Harry, honestly," she said smiling. "I'm not trying to be mean, but I have other friends besides fifteen-year-olds. It's not really something you, or anybody else, can help me with."

Her good humor removed most of the sting from her words, but Harry still felt reprimanded. Tonks had an uncanny way of making him feel like a little boy. Harry took some satisfaction knowing that they'd be sparring later tonight, and he'd be able to show her how mature he really was.

"I understand Tonks. Well anyway, I'll see you tonight!" said Harry, turning around to head inside.

"Likewise, Harry. Don't try to contact me, another guard will be filling in for me at 9am," she informed him. "And no, don't ask me who, I'm not telling you. Until then!" And with that, she pulled a cloak out of her pocket and tossed it around her shoulders, becoming an amorphous blur that was almost indistinguishable from her surroundings.

Harry merely shook his head, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into. He headed inside and crept up the stairs, avoiding the squeakiest of the steps and staying silent enough to hear the faintest rustling noises in the next bedroom. Aunt Petunia was probably getting ready for the day, he surmised.

Pleased with his success, Harry changed back into his pajamas and got back under the covers. He closed his eyes and managed to doze off for a little bit before he heard a sharp rapping noise on his door.

"Boy! It's time to get up! Breakfast needs to be made and the car needs to be washed!" called out Aunt Petunia.

Harry groaned and managed to call back, "I'll be down in a minute!" She seemed to be satisfied with his answer, and he heard her steps retreating downstairs. Really, thought Harry with a large grin on his face. This morning couldn't have gone any better.

"Really, boy, what in the world has gotten into you?!" protested Uncle Vernon. The source of his ire, as always, was Harry, who was currently scarfing down his potatoes like they were the last meal he'd ever have. He was eating faster than both Dudley and Vernon, an accomplishment that was sure to give him a stomach ache later, but something he didn't really care about at the moment.

"Nuffin'" Harry managed to get out through his mouthful of food, earning him a sneer of disgust from Aunt Petunia.

"Don't talk with your mouth full at my dinner table!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, ignoring her own son, who was chewing in a much more disgusting manner next to Harry.

Harry swallowed thickly, and washed down the last of his food with a few gulps of water. "I'm sorry, may I be excused?" Harry asked with as much politeness as he was capable of mustering.

Of course, his relatives weren't used to such courtesy from him, and were instantly suspicious. "Where are you going out this late?" interrogated Uncle Vernon, determined to find the reason for Harry's odd behavior.

"Out. There's a football game in the park that I want to watch," lied Harry expertly. There was actually a neighborhood football game, but Harry had absolutely no intention of watching it.

Vernon looked confused. On the one hand, he wanted to deny Harry anything that would make him happy, but on the other hand, he wanted Harry out of his hair as much as possible. Since football was such a distinctly muggle pastime, there was little Uncle Vernon could be disapproving of. Harry watched all of these thoughts play across his Uncle's face, and he knew the moment a decision had been reached.

"Alright then, you can go," Vernon allowed, still looking unhappy with it. "But remember, no funny business! And be back by 10pm!"

"Of course, sir," agreed Harry placidly. He was actually surprised at the ease of the deception, and did his best to appear nonchalant. Soon, dinner was over, and Harry helped his Aunt clear the table while Dudley and Vernon retired to the living room to watch the telly. His Aunt kept shooting him suspicious looks, but she was much too 'proper' of a housewife to go against her husband's decision.

Soon, Harry found himself outside, happy that the sun had finally gone down. He had a mild sunburn from washing the car earlier today, and he knew it would only get worse as the summer went on. He looked around, and vaguely wondered what he was supposed to do. Tonks said not to contact her, but how was he supposed to get her attention? What if she wasn't even here? Suddenly, this whole thing seemed very poorly planned. Harry slowly ambled out of the yard and into the street, deciding that he'd be more conspicuous to Tonks and less conspicuous to the Dursleys if he started moving.

As he made his way cautiously down the road, he gave a startled yelp when he felt something grab his arm.

"Shhhhh! It's me!" whispered a disembodied voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Tonks. Sure enough, when Harry looked over, he saw a faint burring of air that was the telltale sign of a person under a subpar invisibility cloak. "Don't say anything, just follow me."

Harry followed her, not that he had much choice, considering that she was still holding onto his arm. They walked in silence for several blocks, and Harry wondered what the neighbors must think seeing the delinquent of the neighborhood walking around by himself after dark. He then reminded himself that he was about to practice magic, and decided that he couldn't care less.

Tonks led him to a cul-de-sac in what the Dursleys would refer to as the seedy part of town. The road was completely empty except for a single, solitary lot. From what Harry could see, the lot looked like it was abandoned, as evidenced by the wild grass and the absence of a car in the driveway. The yard was surrounded on all sides by an old sturdy wooden fence that went about a foot over his head, and didn't have any sizable gaps that he could discern. The gate creaked loudly in the otherwise silent street, and Harry looked around nervously to make sure that nobody had heard them.

"Tonks, I'm pretty sure this is breaking and entering!" hissed Harry under his breath.

An amused chuckle was Tonks' response. "From what I've heard from Snape, you don't have any qualms about breaking a few rules. Besides, calm down, nobody lives here. It's just an abandoned lot with a spectacularly convenient fence," she assured him, taking off her invisibility cloak once the gate was closed. They climbed up the steps and into the house through the unlocked front door.

Looking around and noticing that the house was completely devoid of any furniture, Harry was inclined to believe her. Once he walked inside, Tonks closed the door behind him, sealing them off from the outside world. Now that they were face to face, Harry was inexplicably nervous. He had never dared to practice magic outside of Hogwarts before, and it was hard to forget that outside of the fence was a suburban neighborhood filled with muggles.

Tonks seemed to sense his unease, and calmed his nerves by saying "Harry, don't worry. I scoped this area out before hand, absolutely nobody comes down here, and you can't see the sparks from outside the fence. I figured we can practice both indoors and outdoors, so you can get used to both types of settings."

Harry immediately saw the logic of her plan, and nodded to show his assent. The darker part of his mind reasoned that even if they did get caught, Tonks would get in trouble much more than he would. At this realization, he felt even more respect for the risk Tonks was taking on his behalf, and resolved to work harder than ever.

"So, are you ready?" she asked him, drawing her wand. Her face was set in intense determination, and Harry suddenly realized that she wouldn't go easy on him.

"Yeah," replied Harry, drawing his own wand. "Now, are we supposed to assume that each trail of sparks represents a stunner, or what?"

Tonks let out a bark-like laugh that was eerily reminiscent of Sirius. "Harry, the Death Eaters aren't going to be aiming to stun you, they'll be looking to maim, torture, or otherwise kill you. Any time one of my 'spells' hit you, just assume it means you're dead," she said nonchalantly.

Harry was not prepared for this level of seriousness, especially on the first day of practice. But still, he gave a grim nod, indicating that he understood.

"Ok then, on my count! 3…2…1…GO!" yelled out Tonks. Instantly, five different trails of light came streaming right at him, and it was all Harry could do to run behind a wall before they went sailing inches from his face.

Tonks kept a chain of sparks streaming next to where his head would be if he tried to emerge from behind the wall, blocking Harry's escape. But, Harry, noticed, she was aiming a little high, and so crouched down beneath the sparks and darted into the opening, letting out a slew of sparks of his own. Tonks danced nimbly backwards and to the left to avoid his sparks, and sent a return volley to his new position. Harry barely had time to drop down to his stomach to let the sparks sail over his head, and sent a new round of sparks back at her from the ground. This time, he staggered their positioning, anticipating that she would dodge.

However, Tonks was no beginner, and managed to maneuver around every 'spell' Harry sent at her, before sending even more back at Harry. So many sparks were in the air that Harry's eyes were blurring painfully, and he barely managed to log-roll out of the way of the incoming wave. However, the roll left Harry disoriented and knocked his glasses askew, and when he returned fire to Tonks, he was firing blindly. When he finally felt the harmless splash of a 'spell' against his back, he groaned loudly, knowing that meant that he had lost.

Harry Potter, "The Chosen One, couldn't even beat a rookie auror in a mock duel. He might as well hand himself over to Voldemort right now. Pathetic, he was pathetic. He couldn't even last two minutes.

"Well done Harry! Truly, you did much better than I thought you would!" praised Tonks, oblivious to Harry's dark mood. "I had the advantage of first offense, but you had the advantage of position. You should've never gone out into the open, you had a strong defensive position," lectured Tonks. "But you did the right thing by crouching down, it both minimized my target and gave you a chance of retaliation. Better strategy would have been to crouch down, dart out to retaliate, and then retreat back behind the wall. In an actual fight, where you can actually die, you can't afford to pull a kamikaze attack."

Harry could barely hear her past the force of blood pounding through his ears. He was angry, furious, at her, at the Order, and especially at himself. Never before had he been so forcefully shown his weakness, never before had his failures been laid so bare. How could he possibly defeat Voldemort? How?

"And what were you thinking, getting onto your stomach? It was unexpected, I'll give you that, but it made you a sitting duck. Never give up the advantage of mobility!" Tonks continued. "And those glasses are a real liability; they drastically impair your vision during battle. There's a certain spell that can give you temporarily correct eyesight, but it's devilishly tricky to cast and only lasts for a few hours at the most. I personally can't do it, I wouldn't even try, if I did it wrong I could blind you forever."

Harry interrupted her with a curt and bitter "It's not like it would really matter."

Tonks instantly grew silent, a growing look of dawning displeasure on her face. "What do you mean, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"I mean that this entire thing is fucking useless!" shouted Harry, finally climbing to his feet. "I'm a dead man walking Tonks, don't you get it? Dead."

"Harry, do you have any idea what you're saying?" reprimanded Tonks, getting angry now as well. "I never took you for a sore loser."

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying!" yelled Harry. A small part of him was telling him not to take out his frustrations on Tonks, but the majority of him was much too enraged and emotional to truly care. "I'm 'The Chosen One' and I can't even beat you! I'm supposed to be a hero, but really, I'm just a kid who's gotten lucky! I'm nothing, Nymphadora! It's all lies, all of it! Everyone wants me to save them, but how the fuck can I save them when I can't even win a fight?!"

If Tonks was angry before, that was nothing to how she appeared now. Her nostrils were flaring, and her eyes were narrowed into tiny slits. Her hair morphed into a brilliant shade of fire red, and her hand clenched spasmodically on her wand as if itching to curse him.

"Now you listen here, you prat!" she said harshly, storming up to Harry and getting right into his face. Harry was taken aback at her ferocity, used to his friends just riding out his angry rants or trying to calm him down. He had never seen this side of Tonks before. "Do you have any idea how many good people have died? How many people who have suffered, how many people whose families have ripped apart by that monster? You think it's all about you, but it's not! This war is bigger than any single person! I don't put much stock into prophecies, but if you're actually the one that has to kill him, you damned well better do it! If you give up, if you, Harry Potter, decide that you're somehow too special to actually dig deep and train like the rest of us, then all of those deaths, all of that suffering, will have been for nothing."

"But it's not fair!" Harry protested feebly, feeling a rush of guilt. "I never asked for any of this!"

"Nothing is fair, Harry! You think it was fair, what happened to Cedric? You think it's fair, what happened to Sirius?" she asked him, her eyes suddenly shiny.

She had dealt him a low blow, and she knew it. But Harry, for once, seemed to actually be listening.

"Harry, listen to me," Tonks said, her voice lowering and becoming earnest as she backed out of his personal space. "I'm not doing this, I'm not training you, because I have nothing better to do with my time. I'm doing this because you need it. And we need you."

To say Harry felt like a piece of vermin is probably the understatement of the year. Tonks had sliced and diced him, and he had absolutely nothing to say in his defense. Harry had a hard time meeting her gaze, but when he did, it was softer than he expected it to be.

He looked at her a few moments, before finally managing to get out "You're right. I'm sorry." And truly, he was. He had lashed out like a child at someone who was only trying to help him, all because he had assumed that he could beat her with ease. And, if his performance in the mock duel was anything to go by, he needed as much help as he could get. He might be weak now, but he could get stronger with practice.

"Apology accepted," allowed Tonks. However, her demeanor instantly transformed back to one of detached professionalism. Harry was beginning to suspect that her appearance wasn't the only thing that could shift at the drop of a hat. "Are you ready to go again?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Harry agreed.

"Good. I'm not a fan of wasting time. On my count. 3…2…1… GO!"

This time, Harry got the jump on her, sending a parade of sparks towards Tonks' vicinity. However, in his attempt to anticipate where she would dodge, he ended up not sending any sparks directly at her, so she didn't have to move at all.

Instead, she sent a geyser of sparks back at him that he somehow avoided by darting quickly to the right. There was a door that he could easily use for a strategic position if he managed to get to it. He returned fire with more crackling sparks that he aimed near her feat to keep her distracted.

Unfortunately, Tonks, anticipated his plan, and managed to jump over the sparks and dart towards the door quicker than he could. They were in close quarters now, and so she sent another volley of sparks towards him indiscriminately.

Harry managed to weave out of the way of most of them, but one managed to catch him on his right arm.

"Dammit!" Harry shouted in frustration. He had lost once again.

"Are you kidding? Harry that was brilliant," Tonks praised. "You just need to improve your dodging skills. And try to be a bit sneakier about your plan; a strategy is no good if your enemy can anticipate it. Your body language practically screamed what you were about to do. Aiming for my feet was a smart idea though. I was lucky that I managed to dodge it."

Harry listened intently this time, absorbing everything she had to say about his technique. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.

He was going to get better, no matter the cost.

Because he wouldn't let Sirius die for nothing.

"Again!" called out Tonks. "On my count! 3…2…1…GO!"

It was a delightfully exhausted Harry that finally collapsed into his bed later that night. Tonks, true to her word, had kept at it for hours. They had practiced dozens of times, and after countless dodges, rolls, and contortions that usually ended with some body part of his connecting with the unforgiving floor, Harry's body absolutely hated him right now. However, it was worth it. He had noticed his slow but steady improvement over the course of the evening, and had been positively exultant when he finally managed to land a hit. Of course, it hit Tonks about half a second after Tonks' hit had landed on him, so it didn't really count as a win, but it gave him hope nonetheless.

The Dursleys had been predictably suspicious about his evening, but they didn't really care enough about his comings and goings to give him a full-scale interrogation. Vernon had asked how the game went, and Harry responded by telling him it went fine. However, right before he went to bed, a flash of inspiration struck him, and Harry quickly went downstairs to talk with his Uncle.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked, approaching his Uncle who was engrossed in some television program.

"Hmm? What is it boy?" Vernon questioned, his beady eyes already filled with displeasure at having to look away from the program.

"Well, at the game today, the coach saw me on the sidelines and asked if I knew how to play," said Harry effortlessly. Really, it was getting much too easy for him to lie to his uncle. "I told him that I'd never really played before, but that I was a fast runner and a quick learner".

Vernon snorted, showing exactly what he thought of Harry's learning capabilities.

"Well, anyway," Harry continued, "he asked me to show him, and so I ran a few laps. He was impressed, and asked me if I wanted to join the team for the summer."

Whatever Vernon was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He looked a little nonplussed, as if wondering what exactly Harry was getting at. "So are you asking me for money, or something? Because if there are any dues, I'm not paying them, and I'm not signing any forms either," he said contemptuously, no doubt remembering the Hogsmeade form from three summers ago.

"No, sir, I was just asking for your permission to join," Harry replied, ignoring his uncle's usual nastiness. "I can pay the dues myself, and since it's not an official league I don't need a guardian's signature. Practice is every day from 7pm to 9pm, and there's a game every week or so that sometimes starts a bit earlier or lasts a bit later. I promise, I'll keep up with my chores and everything."

"I don't know," said Vernon, clearly disagreeing with the idea of agreeing to anything Harry suggested. "I won't have you making a fool out of us to the neighbors. And your Aunt needs as much help as possible for the housework."

"Of course not, the team practices on the other side of Little Whinging, far away from anyone you'd know," said Harry, making the lie up on the spot. "I'll get my chores done every afternoon before dinner. And besides…" said Harry, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "doing 'normal' stuff will make me less bored and less likely to try doing 'other' stuff…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" yelled Uncle Vernon, flustered at the mere hint of magical activity. His skin cycled from red to yellow and then back to normal in the span of a few seconds. Harry could see the wheels turning in his uncle's simple brain. It was no secret that the Dursleys had always wanted to 'stamp the magic' out of him with normalcy. His uncle might just be dimwitted enough to believe that it was still possible, even after all these years of Harry attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If it meant Harry was out of the house and doing something appropriately mundane that Vernon didn't have to pay for, there was no reason to deny him.

"Alright boy, you can join," Vernon grumbled with dissatisfaction. "But don't expect us to come to the games, we don't have time for that nonsense!"

"Thank you Uncle Vernon!" said Harry happily. If anything, this made his Uncle even more uncomfortable with the idea, because clearly anything that made Harry happy was a bad thing. However, with a ponderous nod, Uncle Vernon shifted his massive bulk back to face the television screen, a clear sign of dismissal.

Harry could have whooped for joy, but managed to contain himself until he was safely ensconced in his bed under the blankets, with his mouth muffled by a pillow. He had an ironclad excuse now for leaving every evening, and as long as he didn't slip up, he could meet with Tonks for the entire summer.

In all honesty, Harry thought blearily as he began to doze off, today was probably the best day he'd ever had at the Dursleys.

A/N - Okay so a bit more action in this part. Tonks might be acting a bit odd, but remember, that also happened in cannon. And when I say 'football' I mean British football (aka soccer), not American football. Only one more chapter of Harry at the Dursleys! Review!