Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.

Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar

The morning of Thursday, June 23 was one of nearly frantic activity. Harry rose from bed at just before 9 AM, showered quickly, dressed even quicker, and practically sprinted downstairs to eat breakfast. Kreacher, knowing this was his last opportunity to do battle against the "mongrel half-blood," had made what appeared to be a delicious breakfast—enough that Harry forgot who he was dealing with, and bit into an innocent-looking doughnut. Unfortunately, that doughnut happened to be filled, not with cream or jam, but with mayonnaise. Retching, Harry tried to wash the taste out of his mouth with what looked like pumpkin juice, but which was in fact carefully-diluted muddy rainwater.

Not willing to take a chance on the bacon or eggs—for only God knew what the little nutcase had done to them, but it probably wasn't pleasant—Harry banished the table's centerpiece (a creepy black iron vase embossed with creepier images depicting either torture or extremely kinky sex; Harry didn't know which was more inappropriate for the dining table) at the elf, and made himself some oatmeal after firing a scourgify into his mouth. He did not, however, feel that it was necessary to warn Sirius or Remus of the sabotaged meal, checking only to ensure that Kreacher hadn't put powdered silver or something actually harmful into the food before sitting back to watch the show. It was only fair, he thought, since he was certain the two older wizards had tried to use him as a "Kreacher minesweeper" by waiting until he had gone down to eat before descending themselves.

Actually, he mused, watching the elf dodge hexes from—and hurl insults at—two enraged wizards, Kreacher definitely had a bit of Marauder in him, even if it was tempered by Walburga Black's unrepentant bigotry and malicious intent.

Finally, the elf retreated, and the Marauders settled down (as much as the two Marauders ever settled down, that is). Neither had yet noticed the charm Harry had used to tie their shoelaces together as soon as the were seated; that, he figured, would be the one last prank he played on them before his departure that afternoon. Excusing himself to go pack, he listened closely for the telltale sound of two pranksters tripping and falling, and grinned broadly as he heard Sirius's loud "Bollocks! One of these days I'm going to kill that damn elf!"

Harry didn't have much to pack, and what he did have was packed away very quickly, as he could now use simple charms to do the work for him. He was slightly worried about Hedwig; it was too far of a journey for her to fly, but owls generally reacted poorly to portkeys. It was unavoidable, though; she would simply have to suck it up. He knew she'd be even more irritated by the fact that she'd have to make the trip under a glamour—she would appear to be a large parrot, which he was certain she would find undignified. He packed plenty of owl treats to make sure he'd be able to get back in her good graces; this did not save him from a haughty "hoot" and one last vengeful peck, hard enough to draw blood, as he closed her cage.

As he finished up, his thoughts drifted to Hermione and Ron. He had not told them of his summer plans, or even that he had left the tender care of the Dursleys, and he was not going to do so. What left him slightly surprised at first, though, was that he did not feel even remotely guilty about it, though even a brief reflection gave him ample reason to keep his plans secret. He knew that Hermione would immediately try to talk him out of it—after all, Dumbledore had told him to remain at Number 4 Privet Drive, and to her, that made it practically gospel, despite there being no good reason why the headmaster of a school should have any say in his holiday plans—and then, failing that, would inform Dumbledore that his wishes were being ignored. This, of course, would lead to Dumbledore tracking him down, pulling the "disappointed grandpa/schoolteacher/wise old wizard" routine, and finding some way to ensure that he could not leave Number 4. Ron would first immediately tell Hermione, and then somehow find a way to be jealous of Harry's good fortune, conveniently forgetting that he had gone on a trip to Egypt the previous summer (a trip about which he had boasted frequently and at great length throughout the previous school year). Either way, Harry's plans would be ruined and his friendships stained by the unavoidable betrayal of his confidences, though neither of them would consider their inevitable reactions as such. No, Harry had no intention of letting either of his closest friends in on his plans; this was to be his adventure, and maybe, maybe he would tell them about it on the train ride back to Hogwarts.

Clearing his head of such weighty thoughts, Harry noticed suddenly that he had been done packing for quite some time. He went back downstairs to have one last chat with Sirius and Remus, who were currently reading the newspaper in the sitting room. Rather, Remus was reading the newspaper, and Sirius was trying to distract him by attempting—badly—to juggle what looked to be quite expensive ornaments. After shattering and reparo-ing all three ornaments for the fifth time, Sirius gave up, and turned his full attention to Harry, who was just then walking into the room.

"Oi 'arry, lad, geh o'er 'ere," Sirius called, doing a fairly good impression of Hagrid. "Take a look at this."

Sirius held out a small mirror, and Harry took it in his hand.

"Thanks, Sirius, but I'm pretty sure no amount of primping is going to get my hair to lay flat," Harry joked.

Remus cracked a grin and Sirius barked out a laugh. "Oh good one, godson of mine," Sirius said, still chuckling a bit. "I have one, too. These are communication mirrors. Just look into it and say my name, and we'll be able to talk at any distance. Sort of like a portable floo."

"Brilliant!" Harry almost shouted; even after three years of exposure to the magical world, he was still constantly surprised at the number of clever spells and artifacts. "I was worried about how we'd stay in touch, since it's clearly too far for an owl, and if you're hunting the rat, you won't always have access to a floo."

Harry immediately cast an unbreakable charm on the mirror; it wouldn't protect against spellfire, but it would keep it from being broken if he dropped it or fell down with the mirror in his pocket. Remus gave a satisfied nod, approving of Harry's foresight. Sirius—apparently having never thought of this precaution—surreptitiously performed the same charm on his mirror, but the sly grins shot between Harry and Remus were clear indications that he had been caught.

"I'll call you on the mirror after I get my apparation license," Harry said, "and any time I have news or plan on going on a day-trip. And I guess if I just fancy a chat, since it's going to be so easy to call."

"Good idea; Sirius and I were actually going to ask you to do just that" Remus said, pleased that Harry was not just willing, but excited to keep in contact—few other teenage boys would have the same consideration. The Marauders at that age certainly wouldn't. "We'll call you with updates on the rat hunt, and with any information we hear about Dumbledore, Hogwarts, or your friends. Also," he continued, presenting Harry with a plum-sized bouncy ball, "here is your portkey to Philadelphia. It'll go off the first time you say "the British are coming" after bouncing it once."

"One more thing, Harry," Sirius said, his countenance somewhat more somber than normal. "This"—he held out his hand, and resting in his palm was a thin bronze ring—"is an emergency portkey. It will take you back here, right to this sitting room, from anywhere in the world. If you get in trouble, say the activation phrase—"sanctuary"—and it will get you back to safety. And don't worry, Remus and I are also carrying one each."

"We made it last night, after you went to bed," Remus said. "See the runes etched on the inside of the band? They will make the portkey charm last as long as the ring is intact, and the runes on the outside of the band will protect it against melting, cutting, or being crushed. We used to carry portkeys like this during the war against Voldemort; in fact, the only reason your parents didn't use them to escape that night was that Voldemort had laid down a powerful anti-portkey jinx over the house—that's why Sirius had to fly in on his motorcycle."

"Thanks, you two," Harry said as he slipped the ring onto his left little finger (where it immediately became invisible), both astonished and touched at how much effort the two men—whom he actually barely knew—were putting into making sure he had a fun, safe summer. Being looked after by people who actually cared about him was a new but entirely welcome feeling, and Harry knew that this year would be the first time he'd ever almost regret leaving for Hogwarts in September.

Harry gave each Marauder a tight hug, then grasped his trunk's handle and Hedwig's cage, and bounced the ball, "arming" the portkey.

"Thank you so much for everything," Harry said, suddenly emotional. "I'm going to miss you guys."

Remus and Sirius were both visibly blinking back tears, also somewhat overcome by the nature of the situation. Harry was, after all, their best friend's only heir (and virtual doppelganger), their student, their de facto ward (at least from now on), and the closest thing either man had to a son, and they were now saying goodbye after just barely getting to know him.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Sirius called, while Remus simultaneously said "try to stay out of trouble!"

The three broke into laughter, and Harry, grinning, called out the activation phrase for the portkey.

"The British are coming!"

Author's Note:

I've thrown in the Captain's Log entry from 5/19/2014 below, and removed it from my profile page. This is to more accurately comply with, if not the letter, than the spirit of the rules and guidelines for posting stories.

I told myself I wouldn't be one of those people, with an obnoxiously long profile. Then I went and practically started a damn blog on it. Well, shit. Maybe I'll have to start adding Author's Notes to the chapters. Bleh, that seems tedious, especially the extremely irritation document management procedure for chapter content. I wish it weren't verboten to just have a "story" as an author's blog.

Anyway, I wanted to address Harry's erstwhile companions, Ron and Hermione. I'm not terribly impressed with Ron, who, in canon, abandons Harry in bouts of jealousy (4th year) and lack of fortitude (7th year). He's gluttonous, lazy, and bigoted, and arguably holds Harry back. Ron was supposed to be the lovable idiot with a heart of gold, to represent the magical community as a whole, not a petty, entitled child (though that arguably also represents the magical community). Hermione, on the other hand, is a study in contradiction. Supposedly, she's very intelligent, yet she consistently fails to see how irresponsible Dumbledore, McGonagall, and virtually all of the other authority figures are, while simultaneously being blindly submissive to their will. Not what I would have expected from any muggleborn with any sense of history-she should have been the cutting wit, the worldly foil to Ron's sheltered obliviousness, rather than just a sycophantic puppy dog desperately trying to prove her place in her adopted community. Ironically, she is basically a bushy-haired, buck-toothed house-elf, serving her self-assigned master (Authority with a Capital A) with slavish devotion, to the detriment of anything that gets in the way. In HPatLS, Harry, in his bid for increased independence, will likely start to look at his associations and friendships more closely and honestly-he's spent three years confining himself to two friends, because they sat in the same train car as him when he was used to being ostracized. Now, though, he's about to see more of the world, and discover that he's got it in him to make new friends and allies on his own merits, rather than just being outcasts together (and make no mistake, the "trio" are outcasts when they meet, and that is why they bond-out of necessity, rather than out of any genuine common interest). END LOG.