As Harry exited the Knight Bus in front of Number Four Privet Drive, he decided that he was becoming far too familiar with Stan Shunpike. He had nothing against the man, but doubted that many other wizards his age rode the Knight Bus so frequently. The price was not a terrible inconvenience, but he rather disliked the experience of it.

He was in a foul mood after the nauseating trip, and as he hefted his trunk inside the house his disposition was sour.

Vernon watched with faint amusement as his scrawny nephew struggled with his trunk. He was paid handsomely to house the boy and be civil with him, but he did not have to like the runt. The humor of the situation disappeared when Harry fixed his Uncle with a cold glare.

"Is there any particular reason you decided not to pick me up at the station, Uncle?" he asked quietly, his eyes drilling holes through the beefy man.

"Didn't… Didn't see the need," he stammered.

"Didn't see the need?" Harry asked, without raising his voice.

"Well, you made it back alright," he said, his face turning red.

"I'm afraid that's not the point, Uncle."

Vernon's complexion turned puce. Hewould nothave that boy disrespect him in his own house; Albus Dumbledore and his payments be damned. "Now see here, boy-" he began.

"No, you see here Vernon," Harry interrupted, "I know about the payments Headmaster Dumbledore sends to you for my room and board. I'm actually quite thankful for them. Merlin knows how bad life here would've been if you hadn't gotten paid. The point, Uncle, is that you had damn well better earn them."

Vernon's veins were throbbing, and he seemed to be struggling to control his temper. "How do you propose we do that, freak?"

"I don't know, Vernon," Harry started, raising his voice for the first time. "Perhaps you could do something small like picking me up from the station. Maybe you could have pretended to love me," he trailed off, his face reddening in embarrassment at the admission.

Harry grabbed his trunk and headed up the stairs toward his bedroom. As he was leaving, he heard his Uncle say, "I wouldn't count on that!"

Harry collapsed onto his bed and angry tears welled up in his eyes. In spite of everything that had happened, he still held onto a sliver of hope that perhaps his relatives would, one day, come to care for him. Vernon had effectively squashed that wish. Harry would no longer hold out any hope that his relatives would become people he could call family.

Harry spent most of his time locked in his room studying his books or walking the streets of Little Whinging. He had purchased a number of books on Advanced Charms theory at Filius' request. His relationship with Vernon was strained, and he tried to keep away from the man, lest they get into another argument.

As he walked down the street one hot afternoon in early July, he noticed an older woman, Mrs. Figg if he remembered correctly, watching him. She had lived on Privet Drive for as long as he could remember, but he could not recall ever speaking to her.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh," she started, flustered at being caught watching him. "No. I'd best be going, Harry."

He frowned. "How do you know my name?"

Her eyes widened when she realized her mistake. "Your Aunt told me," she lied as smoothly as she could.

Harry shook his head. "No she didn't. Aunt Petunia doesn't usually mention me. How do you know who I am?" he asked again, more forcefully this time.

She sighed in defeat. "Headmaster Dumbledore sent me here to keep an eye on you," she admitted. "Come inside, and we'll talk," she said, motioning him inside the house.

Harry nodded, his curiosity getting the better of his cautiousness. Still, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the wand in his pocket as he walked inside.

The house, he noticed, was an almost perfect replica of Number Four. Aunt Petunia would not have tolerated the smell of stale cat urine that pervaded Mrs. Figg's home, but the structures were identical.

"Care for a biscuit?" she asked.

"No, I'd prefer an explanation," he said firmly.

She reluctantly nodded her head. "The Headmaster sent me here to keep an eye on you eleven years ago."

"Why?"

"He wanted to make sure you weren't treated poorly. From what I could tell, the Dursleys never accepted you as one of their own, but they didn't mistreat you," she said, frowning slightly.

"Is that all?"

"He needed someone in the area in case you were ever attacked."

"Did he expect you to fight off a Death Eater attack?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course not. I'm non-magical, but can use the Floo as well as anyone else. If anything had happened, I'd have let Albus know."

"That's actually a relief. I'd never really considered it, but I'm glad that he had someone here to keep an eye on things," he said with genuine gratitude.

"Albus is a great man," she said. "Not many people would employ a Squib, but Albus doesn't care about any of that."

"I hold the Headmaster in high regard. He's done a lot for me over my life."

They spent the next hour trading stories about the venerable Headmaster. When Harry left Mrs. Figg's home that evening, he felt a lot better than he had before his walk.

Before Harry knew it, his birthday had arrived. He received a book on Ancient Runes from Hermione. They had discussed their options for the coming school year and decided to take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Filius sent him a wand holster that would give him a serious advantage in any fight. He was beginning to regard the Professor as a favored Uncle.

Hermione's gift came with a letter letting him know that she was spending her holiday in France. He wished he could join her.

"Boy," hollered Uncle Vernon, "Get down here!"

Harry made his way downstairs at a leisurely pace. He was not in a hurry to acquiesce to any of Vernon's commands.

"You took your time," Vernon grumbled while Harry looked at him impassively. "Your Aunt Marge is staying here for the next week. You'll be on your best behavior," he threatened. "She doesn't know about your disorder, and we'll keep it that way."

"I'm not making any promises, Vernon. If she behaves, I will too."

Vernon's nostrils flared, but he nodded his head, hoping to avoid any confrontations so soon before his sister arrived.

The tension around the dinner table was palpable. "Bad breeding, I tell you," said Aunt Marge. "You can't blame yourself, Vernon. Look at how Dudley's turned out."

Vernon nodded in agreement, but he looked at Harry with some trepidation. He remembered Harry's condition for hiding his unnaturalness.

"It's all about the blood," she continued. "A worthless drunk and that harlot sister of Petunia's couldn't have hoped for any better."

Harry rose forcefully from the table. "A word, Vernon?" he asked, motioning his Uncle to follow him from the room.

"What the bloody Hell is this about, boy?" he asked.

"You know damn well what it's about. You shut her up, or I will," he threatened.

Vernon clenched his fists and tried in vain to control his temper. "Get out of my house."

Harry smirked at him and said, "Gladly." He knew that Dumbledore had a reason for placing him with the Dursleys, but after this summer he could no longer bear to suffer their company. His Aunt and Uncle had always treated him coolly at best, and his cousin had been cruel until he had learned to control his magic. This summer, Vernon and Petunia had been downright nasty. For the longest time, he had loved his relatives and hoped for them to love him in kind. The events of this summer had squashed the love he had for his them.

Harry headed up the stairs to the room that had served as his bedroom for the past twelve years to gather his things. He haphazardly tossed his possessions into his school trunk and let his owl out of her cage. "Go out and fly for a while, girl. I'll probably head to London, and you can find me later." She hooted and flew out the open window.

Harry walked back down the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him, and stepped into the kitchen to say his goodbyes.

"It's been a hellish twelve years," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I can say, without any hesitation, that I hate all of you. May you one day reap all that you've sown." Harry turned to leave the kitchen, before stopping to make a final comment. "And Marge, I must say that I agree with some of your talk about breeding. I shall be thankful for the rest of my life that I am not related to you by blood." He gathered his trunk and left the Dursley home.

He walked down Privet Drive, dragging his heavy trunk behind him. He intended to call the Knight Bus and take a trip to London.Guess I'll be seeing Stan Shunpike again,he thought. He would probably spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron and see where things went from there.

As he made it to Magnolia Crescent, his senses told him that he was being watched. He stopped and searched the area for anything suspicious. On the other side of the street, he noticed a large, black dog staring at him.That,Harry decided,Is no ordinary dog.It was standing too still and paying too much attention to him.Could it be an Animagus?

Slowly, Harry made his way across the street, and the dog seemed too stunned at being caught to react. "Come with me, boy," Harry said slowly, "I know what you are."

The dog nodded its head resignedly, and followed Harry down the street to a deserted section of a park he had discovered the previous summer. "Change," he ordered.

The dog nodded again, and slowly morphed into a scraggly, worn-down looking man in ragged robes. "What the Hell happened to you?" Harry asked about the man's appearance.

The man laughed in a manner reminiscent of a bark, "That Harry, is a long story."

"So, you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. You're my Godson," he said simply.

"To the best of my knowledge, I haven't a Godfather. I've been living with those Muggles for twelve years."

The man scowled, "I'm sorry about that, Harry. I'd have broken out sooner if I knew things were rough for you."

"Broken out?" Harry asked confusedly.

The man sighed, "Do you know what Veritaserum is?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Of course."

"I managed to acquire a vial of it in case anyone discovered me. Would you recognize it?"

Harry nodded his head and the man removed a vial from his tattered robes. He handed it to Harry, who instantly recognized the clear liquid as the truth serum.

"Would you care to administer three drops of that to my tongue, Harry?"

"Why do you need it?" Harry asked, his confusion growing.

"The story I'm about to tell will be difficult for you to believe," he explained.

"Alright." Harry carefully poured three drops of the potion on the man's tongue and waited for his eyes to glaze over, showing that it had taken effect.

"What is your name?" Harry asked.

"Sirius Black."

Harry recognized the name immediately. This man was, supposedly, one of Voldemort's staunchest supporters, and had been in Azkaban for the past twelve years. "Are you now, or have you ever been loyal to the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

Harry exhaled deeply, "Are you really my Godfather?"

"Yes."

"How did you gain that position?"

"Your father was my best friend. We met on the Hogwarts Express our first year, and were both sorted into Gryffindor. I was best man at his wedding, and when you were born I was asked to be your Godfather."

"Why were you sent to Azkaban?" Harry asked. This question would decide his following course of action.

"I was framed. Peter Pettigrew was a friend of ours at Hogwarts. When your parents' home was placed under the Fidelius Charm, he was chosen as the Secret Keeper because I was the obvious choice. He betrayed them to Voldemort and I was blamed. He killed twelve Muggles and disappeared in his Animagus form, after I found him. I was blamed for that as well."

Harry's eyes widened. "Why did you decide to break out of Azkaban?"

"I saw a picture of Pettigrew in the Daily Prophet. I want to kill him and provide a home for my Godson."

Harry was shocked, but immeasurably grateful that someonewantedto provide a home for him. "Do you have a house?"

"Yes."

"Is it fit to be lived in?"

"It will need a bit of work. It would also be a good idea to have the Fidelius put on it."

Harry considered that briefly. He did not think he could cast the Fidelius yet, so he decided to send Dumbledore a missive immediately.

Harry looked up at the man-Sirius,he reminded himself, and watched as the effects of the Veritaserum slowly disappeared.

Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head forcefully. When he opened his eyes again, they were clear.

"Can you apparate us to this house of yours?" Harry asked.

Sirius's face lit up at that question. "Or course! I nicked a wand from a fellow in the Alley. It's not a perfect match, but it's serviceable. I'll get my elf to bring your trunk. Kreacher!"

A decrepit looking house elf appeared next to them with a pop. "Master," it spat out the title with derision.

"Take that trunk and put it in the bedroom next to mine at Grimmauld Place."

"Yes, Master." The elf grabbed the trunk and disappeared with another pop.

Harry did not know how to feel about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The dilapidated House of Black had been subject to decades of neglect. Once the pinnacle of respectable pure-blooded living, the massive house was a shadow of its former glory. The formerly lavish paints had faded and years' worth of debris had piled up on the floor.

After Harry arrived at his new home, he immediately penned a letter to the Headmaster. He tried to adequately convey his message without giving away any information that would be meaningful to an outside observer. Hedwig had arrived shortly after them, and he knew that Dumbledore would recognize his owl.

Professor Dumbledore,

My relatives and I have finally reached an impasse. I was told to leave Privet Drive, and was only too happy to oblige. On my way to call the Knight Bus, I met my Godfather, whose name I am sure you know.

We had a long discussion, during which he was under the influence of Veritaserum, and he said that he was never really able to give anyone directions to my parents' home. He said that he had to ask Pettigrew how to find it.

We're currently at his parents' old house, and we require your presence at the earliest possible convenience.

Sincerely,

The Boy Who No Longer Lives in Surrey

Harry sent the letter off with Hedwig, hoping to see the Headmaster soon.

Late that night, Dumbledore sat alone in his office, hoping to hear from Harry. The wards at Privet Drive had fallen, and when he had gone to visit the Dursleys, they told him they had sent Harry on his way.

He had a great deal of faith in Harry. He was a capable young wizard who would be able to defend himself under must scenarios. He knew that his favorite student would contact him as soon as he was able.

He was unsure what to do when he did find Harry. He had placed him at Privet Drive to ensure his safety. The wards that had, until recently, surrounded the Dursley home were neigh indestructible.

He supposed he could have taken Harry in all those years ago, but he did want him to have a normal childhood. He would have been safe, but a childhood living with Albus Dumbledore would be everything but normal.

Perhaps it was foolish to expect Harry to have a happy childhood with the Dursleys, but he had seen many years ago that Petunia Dursley was not beyond redemption. Her bigotry was, at that time, mostly a defense mechanism. She had been wounded by her sister's disappearance to the magical world, so she had condemned that world in its entirety.

He spent a great deal of time observing them after he placed Harry in their home, and though she would deny it, Petunia still loved her sister. If she had been willing to love Harry in turn, as Dumbledore expected her to do, she would have been able to rein in her family. Harry would have had the childhood Dumbledore wanted for him.

He saw tonight, when he looked into Petunia Dursley's eyes, that he had never been more mistaken. Whatever hope he had for her redemption twelve years ago was now gone. She had bowed to her prejudices, and they had eventually consumed her. He had no doubt that if they had not been receiving payments the Dursleys would have treated Harry as a piece of trash.

So Albus Dumbledore sat, his fingers arched in front of his nose, patiently awaiting Harry's owl when he heard a rap at his window. He smoothly made his way to the window and allowed the owl he knew to belong to Harry into his office.

He quickly unrolled the piece of parchment and began to read. As he read the letter, his face changed from impassive to concerned, and eventually to hopeful.If this is true,he thought,Sirius Black was wrongfully imprisoned.He had always liked Sirius, and was devastated when he learned that he had betrayed James and Lily.

Dumbledore made it past Hogwarts' anti-apparition wards with surprising speed for someone his age, and apparated to Grimmauld Place.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Harry and Sirius sitting across from each other at the table, laughing raucously.

"I'm glad to see you're well, Harry," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Now, if I did not misunderstand your letter, Sirius has told you that he was not your parents' Secret Keeper?"

"That's right," Harry and Sirius said in unison.

"Would you consent to answer a few questions of mine under Veritaserum?"

Sirius nodded, and Dumbledore administered the vial of the potion he brought with him. He essentially repeated Harry's questions, and the content of the letter Harry sent him was confirmed.

"Sirius," Dumbledore began, "You have been done a great injustice. It is my hope that you will be exonerated in the near future. Unfortunately, I believe you will need to remain in hiding until we have a new Minister for Magic. I fear Cornelius would have you Kissed before listening to your story."

Sirius nodded reluctantly. He had expected that. "Headmaster, I told you earlier that Peter Pettigrew is currently hiding in his Animagus form. I have reason to believe that he is currently in the possession of Ronald Weasley."

"What makes you say that?"

"Fudge gave me a copy of the Prophet. The Weasley family won some kind of drawing, and they were pictured. Pettigrew was in that picture- I'd recognize his Animagus form anywhere."

"I will look into it. If we can present Pettigrew to the Ministry, Cornelius would be forced to lift the order to have you Kissed."

"He will try to escape, Albus. Make sure you capture him before he gets a chance," Sirius said. "In the meantime, would you place the Fidelius Charm on this house?" Sirius asked.

"I think that would be for the best. Harry will be staying here, correct?"

"Of course!" Sirius said vehemently.

"Everyone believes you are still living with your relatives, Harry. I see no reason to correct that misconception," Dumbledore said, grinning. "I will place the Charm this evening. I am willing to serve as Secret Keeper myself if you will allow it."

Daphne did not know how to explain how she felt about Harry Potter. She kept her distance from everyone to prevent herself from being hurt, but she did not relish the fact that so few people cared for her. It was an unfortunate tradeoff, she supposed. Nevertheless, the note she received from Harry made her feel considerably better. She was relieved to know that anyone, especially Harry, had missed her during her petrification.

She had become fiercely protective of him over the past year. She had no doubt that she would destroy Draco Malfoy (or anyone else, for that matter) if he did something to harm Harry. She had no idea what caused this protectiveness, but she did not necessarily mind.

She had felt protective of her sister before her grandmother's death. She still loved, Astoria, but she kept her distance from her. It was unfortunate, but necessary.

She knew that she should push Harry Potter away as well. She had not had any trouble distancing herself from her sister, so why could she not do the same with him?