Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"Hello." = Different Languages

'Hello.' = Actual Thinking

Hello = Special Words

/Hello/ = Letter

- Arc One: Deception -

Chapter One
Happy Birthday

"On your birthday
We wish you that
whatever you want most in life,
it comes to you,
just the way you imagined it,
or better."

- Happybirthdaywishes-images dot com -

He felt groggy.

Like a slug.

As if his body was not really his own.

As if he had outgrown it a long time ago.

It was dreadful. Awful, even.

Besides that, he could feel hart springs drilling into his backside. Familiar springs he had felt the last time about three or four years ago. He moved his aching body to the right, the bed creaked and shook.

Yep.

Definitely.

As his jumbled head tried to make sense of his sudden situation of lying in a bed he should not be in, as he had stayed with Sirius in Grimmauld Place, he dazedly realized that there had been a massage from someone he thought of as a dream for quiet some time. The only conclusion his clearing mind came up with was that the time travel had actually happened.

'Fun-frigging-tastic. We're back here again.' He thought sarcastically in realization, a groan escaping his sour throat. His voice, as far as he could make out, was young, grating and hoarse. 'Bloody Puberty.'

Besides the fact that his body did not want to do as he did, he had no idea of time and space right now. Harry wanted to move his right arm so he could touch his aching face.

The arm moved, alright.

But instead of gently putting his hand over his eyes he backhanded himself in the right one.

Another groan escaped him, before he decided to actually open his eyes so he could see his surroundings. Maybe his body needed some time to adjust.

The room he fond himself in was definitely his old one with the Dursley's, the wallpaper was peeling off, the ceiling was a ugly yellowish white color and, as he moved his head to the side, he could make out the broken shelf that was his desk. It was as tiny as he remembered it being.

After a while of lying there, trying to control his body properly the teen heard light knocking on the window, almost as if an owl was pecking at it to get his attention... and it was getting more frantic by the minute. So he decided to give it a try and stand up.

What he managed was a wobbling sitting position, that had his head spinning as if it was a carrousel.

Somehow he managed to stop the spinning after a while. Only then did he begin to move into a standing position while concentrating on a permanent spot on his desk. When he finally managed to stand, albeit with his hands groggily keeping his body up, he moved his head to stare out of the window where three owls greeted him. One a unconscious, great gray owl, another a huge brown owl and the third a snowy white feathered beauty, who's amber eyes burned into his own.

"Hedwig." He said breathlessly. His dear snowy owl. Just now he realized how much he had missed her in the future-past. Or was it past-future? Whatever. This scene drew memories to the forefront of his mind. Memories of his third year. Was he really in the past? It all felt unreal.

As fast as his dizziness allowed he opened the window for the three package carrying owls. The middle one, Harry fleetingly recognized as Errol the Weasley family owl, was dropped onto the bed with a low thud. Even if Harry despised the family at the moment, the owl he pitied for carrying so much heavy stuff. Stupid Ron probably did not think of the poor animal. A low hoot took him out of his thoughts.

It was his beautiful Hedwig, he might have been exaggerating, but in the shine of the moon her white feathers glowed ethereal. At that moment she was the most beautiful thing for his sore, war hardened eyes.

That was until she nipped his hand when he did not react.

"Ouch!" He yelped, before rubbing the sore spot with a pout. "What did I do?"
He asked, gazing at his stern pet, who just shuffled a little, bringing his attention to the knocked out owl lying on his bed, bound to its feet by strings was a heavy looking package. It all felt so real.

Taking pity on the unconscious owl he took of the bundle from Errol's legs. Then he took the old one over to Hedwigs cage where the gray owl took few gulps of water, afterward giving a thankful chirp.

Harry set him down and turned around to the remaining two owls. First releasing the brown owl from its package and the sealed Hogwarts letter, before doing the same with Hedwig, combing softly through her feathers while muttering his thanks. Ever the crafty owl she coughed on to his unusual behavior, settling herself on his shoulder she nibbled his ear affectionately, not leaving him.

Leaning a little into his pet a soft sigh escaped him.

'Yep, definitely missed her.' He thought, before sitting down on his chair with the three packages.

Maneuvering slowly, not to make anything uncomfortable for Hedwig he opened the first one, freeing a gift in golden wrapping paper and a birthday cart he could barely remember. Lifting an eyebrow he cursed himself for not checking his mail for any curses. Sadly he could not tell anything different so he would have to wait for his godfathers arrival.

Sighting he went on with his task, rediscovering the article on the Weasley's and Egypt. Silently stabbing them with his glare (aside from Bill and Charlie), while considering how to deal with them accordingly. Them and Pettigrew, who was still in his form as Ron's pet rat Scabbers.

There came nobody to Harry's mind who deserved anything more than a pet Death Eater than the Weasley's. Maybe he was a bit vindictive. Maybe.

Maybe he was really in the past, at the beginning of his third year...

He was tempted to ignore the letter from Ronald, but decided it was best to reread it, just to know what was written. Chuckling in reminder of the phone-call, he was also reminded that his former best mate got a new wand this year and that ol' Percy was Headboy now. How right the git had been when he had left the family Harry noticed just now.

Maybe he could do something with the least liked Weasley?

This one had not done the things the one in the past-future had committed. Sure, there was potential here to do the same, but if steered in the right direction, maybe this one would be less of a pain in the ass. Definitely noteworthy.

The cheap Sneakoscope was placed upon his desk, not alerting him to anybody untrustworthy in his room. The teen would have to buy a more sensitive one, once he got to Diagon Alley; maybe he should take a page out of Mad-Eyes book... .

The next pack held the Broomstick Servicing Kit he had gotten from Hermione, as well as one of her ridiculously long letters. But it reminded him to subscribe to the Daily Prophet, just to know what the idiots were writing. She too asked him if he could be at Diagon for the last weeks of the holiday.

Well, he would be going to the Alley - with his new found pet Snuffles and a few weeks before them. Maybe the twosome would play along with the charade until they could find out who exactly had been Sonataed by Dumbledore and who did it voluntary, or for monetary gain.

That is if the teenager did not loose his cool beforehand.

Picking up the last package he studied the scrawl on the wrinkled paper, reminiscing the gentle and good, but poor Hagrid. If the half giant had not been such a devoted follower of Dumbledore Harry would take him under his wing any day of the week.

The black-haired teen remembered the biting Monster Book that had been send rather well. And a bit fondly, considering the fact nobody from his year had been able to actually open it. Maybe he could use it in some way...?

Eyes flying over the birthday cart he deciphered the scribbled words. If he did not know it better Harry would say that the gentle half-giant was secretly a cryptographer. At least he did not send a pack of his self-made cookies.

Gazing at the last envelope he wearily opened it, for it was obviously from Hogwarts. Knowing that this letter was written just like the last seven, plus the declaration of consent for Hogsmead and the list of books for his third year in the Scottish School, he laid the first and last mentioned down on his desk, while studying the agreement which had to be signed by one of his guardians.

He actually had an idea how he could get his dear 'Aunty Tuney' to sign this lovely piece of parchment...

Lost in thoughts he stroked his pets soft feathers. Harry could actually get use to her sitting on his shoulder. Maybe her stern glare would scare away pesky morons, who knew?

Sudden dread filled him when he remembered what had happened shortly after this birthday.

Aunt Marge would be coming over with that little monster she called Ripper. A annoying little bulldog. Last time-line she had insulted his parents, making him lose his cool, blowing her up like a balloon. Then again he had been a hormonal teenage boy without any training in Occlumency. Not that he was a master now, but he was better at keeping his calm and thoughts to himself.

'Fuck', he thought as it got to him that he was once again a hormonal teenager. It would be bloody awful to go through puberty again. Ah, well, it wouldn't be a picnic either for Sirius to get through the after effects of Azkaban.

At least they were almost equally screwed.

An alerted hoot came from his shoulder, making him look up into the wide gray eyes of a light feathered Barn Owl. It blinked slowly, turning its head.

'This didn't happen last time.' Shot through Harry's mind, blinking back owlishly. Hobbling over the apparent male remained cautious about this snowy beauty on the humans shoulder, lowering slightly in short-termed submission.

Bound to his feet there was a tiny package, waiting to be taken.

Wondering if his Sneakoscope would alert him about cursed objects too, the teen reached for the cords wearily. This probably wasn't his best idea, but he untied the package, then waiting for the unfamiliar owl to fly away. But he stayed.

Humming in thought he opened the wrinkled, filthy paper and stared tranquilized at the unexpected writing. How long had he been here for him to actually write Harry something? He gazed at the alarm-clock on his nightstand; it was two thirty in the morning. So he had been at this for two and a half hours? (If he woke up at zero o'clock, he couldn't tell.) Damn that was unexpected. It was Sirius who had written him. It was a short, riddled letter, which read the following words:

/ Pup, (How many times had he punched him for that one?)

have gone swimming for a few day's, coming over to flower's playground. Meet you there, same time. The owl is borrowed, give him something to eat and let him be.

Snuffles /

Which meant the old dog would be at their former meeting spot at the old playground at Magnolia Crescent. If he read this correctly. Meanwhile the Barn Owl had flown over to Hedwigs cage, taken a few refreshing gulps of water and a bit from the snacks under the females stern gaze.

A yawn escaped him, as the male owl finally flew into the night. He felt tired, probably due to the time-travel stuff, so he rose from his chair. Hedwig fluttered over to where Errol resided and made herself comfortable, still eying her strangely behaving human. Taking off his glasses the teenaged time-traveler laid down on his bed once more, fast asleep before his head hit the pillow.

When he awoke the next morning it wasn't even eight.
Groaning he hid his head in the cushion. He was so not ready to face this day. Not Marge. Nor Petunia, Vernon or Dudley. At least not this Dudley, who had not matured yet.

Hearing movement he turned to gaze at his snowy owl, who cleaned her feathers in peace. It was a calming sight to behold and Harry observed her for quiet some time, before he heard first movement through the house.

Uncle Vernon's stomping feet made their way over to the bathroom, while Aunt Petunia's light step wandered the floor and down the stairs. Probably going to the kitchen. Internally the teen was wondering how he knew who was who, when he had not heard from his family in nearly four years. Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes, still feeling a bit worn. None the less, he had to get up.

'Do I really need to?' He thought to himself, a bit whiny and actually feeling like flailing. So what if he acted like a spoiled brat right now. Maybe the three lonesome years with Sirius and Kreacher had spoiled him a little. He really did not need to be treated like crap. Not that everybody else treated him different, aside from the two.

Maybe he should vanish and let the wizards search for him in a panic.

On second thought; he really should do that. What was in for him if he stayed? Nothing, that's what. Then again it would be fairly easy to find him if they ever came to the conclusion that Fawks could go anywhere. Weren't there any kind of wards against that? He should have asked Bill...

Maybe he should take on a new identity and hire the only Weasley who hadn't had a shot at him. That was an idea. (Yes, even Charlie had done something...)

Then again it would be far too suspicious if Harry effing Potter would vanish and another person came up out of nowhere. But he needed freedom. He needed somebody who could help him. Somebody who would acquire anything he needed or wanted and asked no questions. The Goblins? They had helped him with Sirius in the past-future. So why not contact them, when he would be in Diagon Alley rather soon?

The question was: What would his new name be? James Evans?
Nah, that was too obvious.

A female Potter or Evans?
No, he had no clue how to change his gender without being a Metamorph. He wasn't the best at naming, really. Apparently his father had been neither, as the diseased Potter had named Sirius Animagus form.

He was a descendant of the Peverells, right?
But that name would draw far too much attention when it came up after a couple of centuries.

Sighing he gave in to his fate. For now.

He had to get up one day.

So he sat up, glaring at the room. It hadn't done anything, but it was his prison. Getting ready for the day he decided he really needed new cloth. Only for his new identity. They had decided, one night in September, that he would not draw too much attention. Kreacher then had supplied them with Firewhisky. Enough said.

Meanwhile Hedwig and Errol (who had stayed the night) watched the teen glare at his clothes. What was up with him? Had he finally come to the obvious conclusion that his cousins stuff was too ugly? They could have told him that long ago. Not for the first time both owls wished they could speak.

Finally deciding on a simple (if too large and ugly) gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans the teen sighed one more time, readying himself for what was to come. So with one last deep, calming breath he opened the door and walked out into the hallway. It was still colored in an ugly color between peach and salmon pink. Somehow he missed the Pepto-Bismol pink of Umbitch. At least that gave him eye-cancer and not the need to go hang himself.

Ignoring the shiver running down his spine he walked down the hall with as quiet a step as he could manage. Sadly the last step of the stairway still creaked loudly. Especially in the morning.

So he found himself at the stern glare of Aunt Petunia, a spoon in hand standing in the door-frame to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia." He said, loud and clear as to not give her a reason to bash him. At least not too hard. Glare intensifying she turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen. 'What the?'

He was sure she still would have said something to degrade him.

'Hmm, don't look a gifted horse in the mouth.' So he followed her, even if he actually wanted to run away as fast as he could. The Kitchen, too, was as he remembered it being. Pink and white and boring as hell. Merlin, even Gimmauld Place was more exciting.

"Boy", she spat, "make breakfast. Egg and bacon."

Maybe he should hex her six way's to Sunday, or maybe he should prank her. Or he could just hand their punishment over to his godfather. The old mud still was pissed at them for their audacity to treat him like a Malfoy house-elf.

He answered with a monotone 'Yes, Ma'am', while refraining from saluting. Working on auto-pilot he made a deliciously smelling breakfast, which attracted both Dursley men.

Dudley still was his unhealthy five chinned, fat self; contrary to what had become of him in the past-future. Damn, he needed another nickname for the last time-line.

Uncle Vernon was still an ugly fuck. No talking through roses there. He was looking like a fat walrus with a mustache of a sausage. Pardon his English.

He gave an extra large serving of bacon to Vernon and more egg to Dudley - he still remembered who liked what better. Aunt Petunia got a mild variation of their dishes with a extra prepared serving of salad. Eying him suspiciously the family ate while he sat by their side, looking innocent.

Yeah, he had something planned. Harry still needed their permission for Hogsmead. Yes, he had thought of faking the signature, but it was only a last resort.

The teen had gotten a bit of bacon, a toast, a bit of salad and half an egg for the prepared breakfast. When the mail came he got it without question, handing Vernon his paper and Petunia a letter.

'Smile and wave, Harry. Smile and wave.' Was his mantra. Somehow he thought of penguins while doing it.

He sat there, eating slowly. Uther Prewett had told him to savor every bite, to eat slowly, so his meals would saturate him a little more.

Meanwhile Dudley had turned on the welcome-to-the-summer-holidays television. Which his parents had gifted to him, after he had complained about the TV in the living room and the long way between it and the fridge.

News were on, showing the picture of a shabby black haired escapee. Again the reporter warned the population about a 'armed, dangerous convict' called Sirius Black. Harry refrained from snorting. All eleven year old wizards were armed and his godfather was about as dangerous as the next best Death Eater. How did the Muggle government know about the prison break? Were they contacted by the Minister of Magic, did they know of the magical world? Or were they warned through whatever means there were and had no clue?

Listening halfheartedly to his uncles ranting about his godfathers shabby looks the boy-who-time-traveled rattled down his mantra. 'Smile and wave...'

It was around quarter past nine when Vernon decided to get to the train-station, as Marge would be coming at ten. Deciding not to say anything the teen agreed to his uncles three conditions - even the one with St. Brutus's Secure Centre. He stood up and got to washing the dishes in silence, observing the rest of his family from the edge of his perception. Dudley did nothing but eat and watch TV, while Petunia read her letter. Vernon finally got up, so Harry watched his relative wobble over to the door. When the entrance-door closed behind him and the motor of the car was heard, the teen decided now was a good time to speak with his dear Aunty 'Tuney.

Drying the last pan, stowing it away in a cupboard, he turned to the kitchen table where the other two Dursley's sat in silence. He planted himself next to a calm Dudley, then turned to Petunia, who was poking around in her salad. Left in thoughts. Whatever she was thinking about, his question startled her out of it.

"Aunt 'Tuney?" Yes, he used his mothers nickname. Sue him.

She starred at him with huge (but boring) brown eyes. Well, he could actually make out flecks of green here and there, now that he starred right back. Here recently dyed brown hair looked a bit disheveled, blonde suited her far better. Brown made her look like a horse with a wig. When no answer came he decided to just speak.

"Third years at school are able to go to the nearby village...but I would need your permission to do so. Could you sign the paper, please?" Dudley did not pay attention to them, far too engrossed in a new episode of Tom and Jerry. His aunt blinked a few times, still staring at his emerald eyes.

He was aware his eyes were his mothers and the looks his fathers. It got on his nerves after Sirius had called him James one too many times. Now he would definitely take on a look of his own, maybe do something with his hair. Maybe a piercing? Or an earring? Tattoos? Definitely other clothing, screw 'only for his alternate identity'.

"Yes." Was the surprising answer, sadly he smelled a but coming. "But you will have to behave with Marge. Stick to the story, do not leash out. We will see afterward." He nodded along her conditions, until the last part. He needed that signature now.

"But, Aunt 'Tuney, I could easily forget some of the details... maybe let something slip..." Merlin's beard, he needed to practice his bribery skills. Wasn't he twenty? Obviously not in body, but surely in mind. Petunia paled.

"No. You will behave!" Was her panicked remark. Harry shook his head negatively.

"I don't know, Aunt 'Tuney. It's so easy to forget. Saint Whatsitcalled sounds rather much like Hogwash to me."

He shot her a sly look, happy with her rising panic.

"And I can be so nice. You saw today, right? I might be able to say nothing at all, all week, if you sign the paper. When Aunt Marge asks, I will be from Saint Whatsit, not Hogwarts."

Okay, maybe he was overdoing it a little.

"Saint Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys." She said, this time rather infuriated. "And you will remember! You will do as we say, boy! You should be grateful for everything we have done for you! Don't forget that your kind does not want to be found out. What was it? Statue of Secrecy?"

Pity, he had hoped his mother's nickname would help. Then again he was rather obvious with his threat. He really needed to learn.

"True, but I will not endanger any of them. I will only tell Aunt Marge that I am learning at a specialized private school, maybe I could show her a school letter? You know, just to show her it's true?"

Now he had done it, Aunt Petunia snapped.

She lashed out, slapping his face.

Harry always had known her to have a short fuse. But this short? Was it a effect of the Horcrux inside him? Hold on, did he still have the Horcrux, or was it fused to him? Another thing to check later.

Dudley stared at his mother with wide eyes, something glistered in them. His fivefold chin hung even more due to his open mouth.

When she had calmed down a little her hand began to shake. Her widened eyes transfixed on the offending appendage. Whereas Harry just drew out the document and a pencil, both hidden in his pocket since he had left his room, placing them on the table. His cheek stung a little, but it was nothing he could not handle. For Merlin's sake, he had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Which still held nothing on what Hermione had gone through, at least in his opinion.

"You should just sign. Leave the rest to me. I will behave, as long as she does." He said rather monotone, sliding both paper and pencil towards her. Her stare wandered from her hand towards the document, nodding still in obvious shock from her rash action.

When her name was finally on the paper he took it and folded it back into his pocket.

"Thank you." He said, stood up and left for his room.
Where Hedwig and Errol still sat side by side. He shrugged it off, even as their gazes followed his every movement. His beauty always had been one of a kind. He wasn't about to reprimand her for her behavior.

Losing her once, even if he only had seen the memory of that event, was hard enough.

So he sat himself on the bed and did his exercises for a calm mind. Breathing deeply in and out he fell into routine.

He knew what was to come and he still needed to stay here till at least the end of the day. Plus he so did not need to be reprimanded by Minister Chocolate Ostrich just because he made his 'Aunt' fatter than she already was.

None the less, he packet his stuff after the exercises.
Now he would be ready to depart at any moment. Giving Errol a little note for Ronald - telling the moron he would be at Diagon and that everything was alright. Hedwig he instructed to stay with Sirius for the time being, even if she stared at him comically. The twosome flew away just when he closed his full trunk.

Few minutes later the sound of wheels on pebble was heard. Car-doors opened and closed, then the bell rang, somebody opened the door and voices filled the hallway. He chuckled lightly in upcoming vengeance.

His Sneakoscope, still placed on his desk - so it was quick to grasp - blinked, twirled and let out tiny whistles.

What a delightful birthday gift.

~ HP ~ OZ ~

Ola, me dear Chikorita's!

So this is the first installment of the first Arc, next chapter we will meet Sirius again.
I will mark the beginning of each Arc in the Chapter List. Yes, there was a pun on Madagascar in here.
The Sneakoscope reacts to Harry's chuckle, as it reacts 'if somebody is doing something untrustworthy nearby'. (HP wikia)
I still have no idea what the first of October will bring, so I will upload the next chapter at the fifteenth next month!

To me dear Rewievers

Me dear Faery66, I hope this was what you had in mind in term of length and reading more.

Fluff,
Berry