Chapter 7 – Last Days of Summer

Soon after the trial and the arbitration Harry, Dudley, and Petunia and Vernon spent a fortnight in Greece. It was pleasant enough, a fortnight of lounging and relaxation in the sun. Harry certainly enjoyed the time away from the wizarding world in which he was a celebrity, a focus of newspapers and rumours and gossip. In Greece, Harry was just a random English boy, part of an anonymous mass of others.

Bliss.

"It's good to be back in England again, eh, lot?" Vernon was saying from the front of the car as they entered Little Whinging. "Holidays are nice enough, but there's no feeling quite like coming home again."

He paused for a response, but when Petunia made only a half-hearted noise and neither Harry nor Dudley said anything at all, continued.

"Especially after the summer you three have had. Watching bloody wizards' duels on the Continent, broom races and all the rest, then a family holiday—bet you're all keen to sleep in your own beds, eh?"

No mention of the trial at the Wizengamot, though. That had been more stressful than any of those other things, at least for Harry, although Vernon had pointedly not mentioned it. Nobody had said much about it since the trial itself.

"I've certainly had less eventful summers, darling," said Petunia. "Although it was very interesting to visit the wizards' quarter in Rome and Vienna with Sirius. We were lucky to have him there, really. It's not a very accessible place for norm—for people like us," she said.

"Sirius this, Sirius that," said Vernon, his tone light, although Harry thought he could sense a bit of uncertainty there. "Anything I should worry about, Pet?"

"Oh, don't be so silly!" said Petunia. "Sirius is a dear, but there's nothing to worry about there, darling." She glanced up at the rear-view mirror briefly for a quick look at Harry and Dudley. "Sirius is, well—he has other interests, darling, and I have you, of course."

Harry looked at Vernon in the mirror. He had that look on his face, the one that made him look constipated but meant he was thinking about something.

"Well, that's good," he said eventually.

Harry certainly hoped Sirius and his aunt weren't about the have an affair – they'd got along well enough during the EDC Summer Tournament and the flight school as far as Harry could tell, but a messy divorce and all that fuss was, while not quite the last thing Harry needed, not especially high on the list either.

"What about the two of you, then?" Vernon continued. "Happy to be home?" He paused. "Oh, Dud's asleep, is he? Well, just you then, Harry."

"Er—" said Harry. He felt a bit put on the spot. Was he happy to be back? There'd been times he'd longed to be anywhere but Number Four, Privet Drive. He'd spent some days as a child wishing someone would come and spirit him away to something more interesting, grander.

And it had even happened.

But after a long summer duelling on the European Circuit with Tracey, and then attending a prestigious Italian flight school with the other Triwizard flyers, a trial before the Wizengamot, and then a fortnight's holiday in Greece with his family… well, a chance to relax at home was well awaited. Even if it would only last a handful of days before it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

"I am actually, yeah," Harry said. "It's been—well. A lot."

He and Tracey had managed to win the Summer Tournament, which was far better than either of them had dared hope; he'd flown with some of the best flyers from all across Europe, from Quidditch players to hazard racers; and spent a good deal of time besides on holiday, both in the muggle and wizarding worlds. He'd even got to spend some proper time with Sirius, which had been great, although his godfather had spent the entire time Polyjuiced as a random muggle.

The trial had been less fun. Grudgingly Harry would have said it was worth it, since Lucius Malfoy had been found negligent and was required to issue a formal apology to Harry on top of a fine, but that was still a far cry from life in Azkaban.

"I bet," Vernon said. "You were in the papers a lot, you know. For all of it. Frankly I don't know why they're so obsessed with a fourteen year old boy—"

"I'm fifteen now, Uncle Vernon," Harry corrected automatically.

"Are you really?" said Vernon.

"Of course he is, Vernon, darling—we had his birthday while he was at flight school. You were at work," said Petunia.

"Ah. I remember now. Well, it doesn't matter—it's still strange they write about you so much. The trial, I can understand, but the rest of it…"

"Tell me about it," Harry said. It was all the same sort of thing, over and over again. Harry had tried to ignore it. Vernon had kept reading the papers, though, adding them to his daily routine, and kept Harry abreast of any major mentions.

At least until Harry, Petunia, and Dudley had gone overseas for the competition and flight school with Sirius, and Harry was able to spend those days in sheer blissful ignorance of British wizarding news.

It was something Harry wished he could do permanently, but with the state of the world and Harry's place in it... well, Harry didn't think it at all wise.

"With a bit of luck this year there'll be something else for them to focus on," Harry said. "Last year was a bit mental, and then with everything else this summer, but I'm just doing my OWLs this year, so..."

"'Doing your owls? What?" said Vernon as he turned the car onto Privet Drive. "They just sort of fly about, don't they? What's there to do?"

"No—wizarding exams. Like, um, GCSEs. But for wizards."

"Oh, right. Well, you'd best do well on them then—otherwise you'll be in the papers!" Vernon chortled to himself as he pulled the car into Number Four's drive. Harry rolled his eyes, although he did have to admit his uncle wasn't far wrong. Once he'd parked up Vernon glanced back at Harry and Dudley. "Wake Dudley up, Harry, and then the pair of you can get and help me with the suitcases—pair of strapping lads like you should be put to work. None of this namby-pamby, wishy-washy..."

Harry tuned his uncle out as Vernon and Petunia got out of the car. Instead, he nudged Dudley, who'd fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd got into the car.

"Oi—wake up. We're home and Uncle Vernon wants us to help with the suitcases," Harry said, nudging his corpulent cousin once again. "And I'm not bloody doing it myself—those suitcases are heavy."

Perhaps Harry had gotten too used to featherlight and timed shrinking charms but lugging about heavy cases full of clothes and assorted tat was not something he wanted to do. And certainly not alone.

Dudley didn't stir.

"Oi!" Harry said again. "Wake. Up!"

Dudley jolted awake mid-snore and looked at Harry, frowning.

"What'd you that for?"

"We're home," Harry said. He undid his seatbelt. "Uncle Vernon wants us to help with the suitcases." He slid out of the car and joined his uncle at the boot to grab the lighter of the three suitcases and lugged it over to the house where Petunia was unlocking the door.

Petunia sniffed several times as she crossed the threshold, and then sighed.

"It's lovely to be home again but I do wish I didn't have to do a deep clean tomorrow..."

"Mum, you spent three days cleaning before we even went," Dudley said as he dumped a suitcase unceremoniously in the hall. "And no one's even been here, so it's not dirty, is it."

Privately, Harry agreed with Dudley, although he said nothing. He knew his aunt well enough to know that she would have cleaned even if they'd had a cleaner come to the house daily since they'd been gone – that was just how she was. And she'd only cleaned that much before they'd left because she'd been stressed from the trial.

"Where do you want the cases, Aunt Petunia?" Harry said instead.

"Oh, just leave them there, Harry. I'll sort them out later. Thank you. You'd best go and see to your owl—he's been on his own for two weeks, hasn't he?"

"Er—yeah, that's right, he has," Harry said. "I'll just go and check on him, then..."

Harry left the suitcase where it was and raced up the stairs to his bedroom. He'd left the window open for Agrippa, so the owl had been able to come back and forth whenever he wanted, but that was no substitute for a bit of company.

Agrippa was inside, sat on his perch, when Harry entered the bedroom. The owl let out a deep hoot when he saw Harry, and Harry smiled.

"Hello, Agrippa! Did you have a good time?"

Harry rummaged in his desk drawer for some owl treats and fed them to the owl slowly. He'd left Agrippa behind with Vernon during the Summer Tournament and flight school but had wondered what to do for Greece. He hadn't wanted to leave him completely on his own so had thought about bringing him, but Harry knew Petunia and Vernon would have balked at the suggestion he bring on an owl with them to a muggle holiday resort in Greece. So, the owl had stayed at home, albeit with free access to the outside world and instructions to visit Sirius every other day.

Harry spent a half hour or so playing with Agrippa before he sat himself down at his desk. He had homework to finish, and although he'd been tackling the homework at various points in the summer, he felt like it was still quite late. But the school letters hadn't even come along yet, anyway, which made the end of summer feel quite a bit farther away – even if the letters themselves were also late.

Harry spent the next couple of days up to his ears in textbooks and parchment as he worked furiously to get his summer homework completed. He had homework in every single one of his subjects, although he could ignore the homework assigned by teachers like Trelawney as he wouldn't be doing Divination for the OWL. Even with that, however, he still had fat stacks of parchment and wonky towers of textbooks piled up on his desk with his remaining subjects.

Harry was working his way through a particularly complex arithmantic problem when he was interrupted by Petunia calling him from downstairs.

"Harry? Harry! Your friend Stevie is here," she said. "He wants to know if you want to go out."

Harry glanced at the arithmancy homework and then pushed it away. He stoppered his inkpot and put down his quill, then headed right downstairs. Arithmancy – and all the others he still hadn't finished – could wait. He hadn't seen Stevie in a whole year. If he didn't make time there and then, Harry thought it might not happen at all.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia!" Harry said as he thundered down the stairs. He met Stevie at the door.

"Alright? Saw you were back from your holiday so wanted to know if you fancied going into town with me and the boys?" said Stevie.

Harry had to look twice at Stevie when he reached the door, because he almost didn't recognise him. He'd grown tall, taller than Harry – who thought he'd done quite well in that area himself – although he looked a bit awkward and gangly. It made quite the contrast from the last time Harry had seen him, although he supposed that was what happened when it had been a full year since they'd last seen each other.

"Yeah, definitely," Harry said. A normal day out, free from worries and woes about Dark wizards and prophecies and horcruxes was just what he could do with. Nobody would be writing an article about it for the papers. Nobody would be spreading any rumours about him. Not a robe in sight, just friends he hadn't seen in a long time and the simple delights of wandering through town. "Er, let me just grab some money and my shoes, and I'll be right there."

Harry dashed back to the staircase where his aunt had a shoe cabinet, found his trainers, slipped them on, and stuck his head around the kitchen door.

"Aunt Petunia? I was going to go out to town with Stevie and the boys, but I don't have any muggle money. Could I borrow a fiver please?"

Petunia looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table reading her book and frowned at him.

"You don't have to borrow money, Harry," she chided. "I'll give you ten. Let me just get my purse..." She reached for her purse and took out a crumpled ten pound note. "Are you sure that's enough? I do have another here that you could have."

Harry considered it and then shook his head. Although he'd grown quite used to the wizards' currency and pricing, he didn't think they would be getting up to anything particularly expensive. He took the note.

"Thanks, Aunt Petunia! I don't know how long we'll be, but I'll be back by dinner I imagine. See you later!"

Harry joined Stevie outside and shut the door gently.

"Who's going?" he asked when the pair had set off along Privet Drive.

"Me, you, Johnny and Rishi," replied Stevie. "We'll meet them at the bus stop, but we're going to walk into town."

"Brilliant," Harry said, and they set off.

"So, where've you been all summer? We knocked a few weeks ago but your uncle said you were gone," Stevie asked. "Didn't say where."

Harry thought about his answer. He didn't want to outright lie, since Stevie was a friend, but he had to pick the right mixture of half-truth so that it sounded convincing, and Harry wouldn't feel guilty about saying it.

"Competition thingy with school," Harry said. "Trip to Italy, some time in Austria. Took up loads of my summer—it was good fun though. Didn't leave much time for homework, mind, or seeing anyone... and then we went to Greece on holiday, all four of us. So I've really only got this week left before having to go back." And he couldn't say anything about the trial, but nor did he want to.

"They work you hard at that school, huh?" Stevie said. "Summer homework—that's bonkers, mate."

"It's not that bad," Harry said, although he could have done without the translations for Runes, or the astronomical charts for Astronomy. Better to steer the conversation elsewhere, anyway, before Stevie asked about something Harry couldn't talk about. "Anyway, what's been going on with you? I've not seen you since last summer!"

Stevie shrugged.

"Same old shit, Harry," he said. "School is school—you went there, you know. Got GCSEs next year, my parents want me to do A-levels and go to uni but I don't know if I'll bother, to be honest. But I bet it's the same for you." Stevie paused. "Er, I started going out with Olivia, so that's... I mean, that's nice."

Harry caught his words before he made an unkind comment. He hadn't ever expected that as an outcome, but he supposed after two years away, things could have changed. Things obviously had changed if Stevie and Olivia were going out with each other.

Not that that sort of answer was appropriate. If Tracey heard about him making that kind of social faux pas, she'd die of second hand embarrassment.

"Really? Nice, mate," Harry said. "How'd that happen?"

Stevie turned pink.

"She, er, well she asked me out actually, at her birthday party this year. I didn't know if I should say yes or not but I did, and—er, well... it's gone well, so I'm glad I did really." Stevie mumbled something unintelligible, then spoke up a bit louder. "How about you? You seeing anyone? There must be loads of fit girls at that school of yours from all over. Bet you're drowning in choice!"

"Something like that," Harry said. While there were a lot of girls at Hogwarts, all the British and Irish girls had grown up with him as a hero, and Harry was always a bit unsure whether they liked him or the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. But Giovanna had been an interesting diversion, even though it hadn't gone well in the end, so Harry knew there were girls out there who wouldn't be interested in his drama.

Which was theoretically nice even if there was Voldemort looming large in the distance to offer yet another complication.

"I was with this girl for a bit, her name's Giovanna—she's Italian. We went to the Yule Ball—like a Christmas dance—together last year, but it didn't work out."

"Very nice," Stevie said. "Shame it didn't work out but Italian birds are meant to be fit."

"She, er, she was," muttered Harry. "She doesn't go to my school, though—sort of a foreign exchange. But…" They kept on chatting like that until they met up with Johnny and Rishi at the bus stop and started the walk into town.

"Oh aye, look who it is!" said Johnny as Harry reached the bus stop. "The Lord Potter, back from his travels on the Continent! How marvellous to see you, your Lordship!"

"Forgot about us lowly oiks, did you?" Rishi said with a big grin.

"It's nice to see the pair of you, too," Harry said. "Glad to hear you missed me."

"Well—who said we missed you?" replied Johnny. "But it's good to see you're happy slumming it with the likes of us."

"As if I'm slumming it," Harry muttered. Alright, so none of his muggle friends' fathers owned half a village, and none of their mothers were one of the richest women in Britain, and Harry himself had a nice little fortune stashed away... but he wasn't posh. Or he wasn't that much posher than the other boys, at any rate, even though his uncle drove a nicer car than any of their dads. Keen to change the subject, he asked a question. "So, what are we going to do? Cinema? Food?"

"Cinema's too boring," said Rishi. "We were going to go into town, have a look around the HMV that's just opened, doss about. Maybe grab a Maccie's on the way back. That's if his Lordship feels like it, of course."

"Piss off," mumbled Harry. "But yeah, alright. Let's do that." He hadn't picked up any new muggle music in literally years, and he thought if he could get a record, he might even be able to share it with some of friends in the Common Room using the gramophone. And if not, well – having a good look around wouldn't hurt either. If nothing else it would keep him from getting too detached from muggle music.

The walk into town took about half an hour, after which they were on the main high street with all the shops. The four boys went straight for the HMV along the middle of the street, which was much bigger than Harry remembered. Louder and dirtier, too, as cars and even motorbikes whizzed past spewing smoke and fumes in a seemingly endless procession.

Inside the shop wasn't much better as music blared from speakers throughout, and there were even several wall-mounted televisions showing different films, all with the volume up.

"I'm going to go look at the posters," declared Johnny. "See you in a bit." He shot off towards the back of the shop.

"C'mon, let's go have a look at the PlayStation displays. They're doing pre-orders still, but I think this one has sold out," Rishi said. He led the way towards a section of the shop that had been dedicated to some sort of computer, as far as Harry could tell. "You gonna get one, Harry?" Rishi asked. "I've had mine pre-ordered since they announced it."

"Um," Harry said. He glanced at the displays. Dudley already had one. Dimly, Harry thought that was something to do with Vernon, a favour from a work friend. Of course, he had absolutely no plans at all to get one – didn't have a television, and it wouldn't work at Hogwarts or in a lot of wizarding places anyway. "I wasn't going to, to be honest. I don't really, er, play that much." He paused. He didn't want to come across too poncey. "Dudley's already got one, though. My uncle got him one early."

"Lucky bastard," Stevie said. "Trust him to get a deal like that."

"Are you even allowed stuff like that at boarding schools?" Rishi continued. "Where would you keep them?"

"We are allowed to bring games and stuff like that to school with us," Harry said. Of course, nobody would have brought a PlayStation to Hogwarts and even if they did it would be non-functional. But in principle it would be allowed, and people brought all sorts of games and toys with them to the school. "We keep them in the Common Room, or our dormitories. I think Dudley would take his PlayStation to school, but it's out after he goes, so... I imagine he'll have to wait until Christmas. And that's if my aunt lets him."

"Speaking of," Stevie said, "you going to be back this year? Or staying at school again?"

"Er—well, I thought this year I would come home, yeah," Harry said. First year had had certain exceptional circumstances, and he couldn't have missed the Yule Ball and all that, but as far as he knew there would be nothing keeping him at the school this year. And it would be nice to have a normal Christmas after the two he'd just had, even if that did mean spending it with Aunt Marge. "So yeah, probably."

"I can't believe you'd stay at school for Christmas," Rishi said. "That's mad, that is."

"Mate, you don't even celebrate Christmas!" Harry said.

"We do, sort of. We do presents and food. Just not the Jesusy bits," said Rishi. "And it's nice having the holidays for it isn't it?"

"Yeah, fair enough," Harry said. "It's not like that, anyway. It's school, but no lessons, most of the teachers go home, you do still get time off to chill. And last year there was this big event so everyone stayed over Christmas—there was this huge fancy ball, it was pretty good actually."

"If you say so," Rishi said. "You're getting a PS, right, Stevie?" he asked. "What games have you got for it?"

"I ordered Rayman—looks really fun. What'd you get?"

"Wipeout. Rayman looks a bit naff—no offence."

Stevie shrugged.

"I thought the adverts were cool."

"Hey—I'm just going to go have a look at the records for a bit," Harry said, interrupting. "Won't be long." He nipped away and headed for the part of the shop dedicated to music, and then searched for the records. CDs were cheaper and more readily available, but he couldn't play them at Hogwarts, and he did want to share some good muggle music with his friends there. Harry flicked through the stacks looking for something he recognised, but after so long wrapped up in his world of wands and wizards, there wasn't much there.

There especially wasn't a lot he knew and could get as a record. So Harry made his way to the little station where there were headphones and a selection of popular music to have a good listen to find something he could bring back with him. He discounted a lot of things immediately, both because he thought it was awful and he didn't think any of his friends would like to hear it. The music player had some tracks from Mariah Carey, who Harry knew of already, and thought Daphne might like, so he made a note to see if he could find a vinyl of one of her singles. Or something in his price range, anyway. He skipped a few more tracks and eventually found one by Oasis, which he thought Blaise would like. He just needed to find a song for Millicent, Tracey, and Theodore—

Or perhaps not Theodore. Harry had given him an ultimatum at the end of the last schoolyear, and he still didn't know where the other boy stood. Maybe he never would know. After all the fuss that summer with Malfoy, Harry doubted Theodore's father would allow him to associate with Harry even if Theodore had wanted to.

Harry busied himself with the music instead of dwelling on Theodore and his father's allegiances, and eventually managed to make some decisions. By the time he'd finished choosing, Rishi and Stevie had moved on to the video section, and Johnny was still looking through the stacks of posters in search of the one he'd wanted. So Harry went to have a look at the vinyl to see if he could pick anything up. The selection was pretty large, but he still couldn't get the things he wanted. After a moment's indecision, Harry picked a more classic selection instead, and then sought out Rishi and Stevie by the videos with his purchase.

"Alright?" Harry said when he joined them again. "What are we looking at? Anything good?"

"Was going to see if I could pick up a copy of that Robin Hood film they just did," Rishi said. "You know. But I can't find it..."

"The one with the foxes?" Harry asked. "The musical one?"

"Ugh. No, obviously. The new one, the one they just did," Rishi said.

"I thought that was awful to be honest," Stevie said. "Like, really bad. But it's your money. What did you think, Harry? You must have seen it."

"Er—well, actually..." Harry said. He hadn't seen it. He hadn't known it existed. It didn't sound like the sort of film his uncle would watch at home, and Harry hadn't been the cinema in a few years. "Nope. Didn't catch that one."

"What about Coneheads? Everyone's seen Coneheads," said Rishi.

Another film Harry hadn't seen or heard of.

"Er, no, I've not seen that one either," he admitted. "I don't really watch many films, to be honest."

"What about the new Batman? You've got to have seen that!" said Stevie.

Harry shook his head.

"Nope. There isn't—my school is kind of out of the way, right, so there's not—I haven't been to the cinema in a while," Harry said. He was beginning to understand why so few wizards were able to keep a foot in both worlds – he'd only been gone two years, and already the cultural landscape was changing around him. Musicians he'd never heard of had come into and dropped out of the charts, never to be heard from again; dozens of popular films had come and gone to critical acclaim, none of which he'd heard of; and no doubt there were new celebrities and television programmes and everything else he hadn't kept up with that could trip him up.

It was exhausting. Even casual conversation felt like a trap.

Both boys looked at him like he'd grown a pair of new heads, each uglier than the last.

"Tell us again why you go there? Sounds awful," Rishi said.

"It's a really good school," said Harry, perhaps a bit more defensive than he would have liked, but he felt possessive of Hogwarts.

"Yeah, I bet you're fast-tracked to Oxbridge, right?" said Stevie. "Fair enough."

"I hadn't really thought about universities," Harry said. That was at least true – while there were some magical universities in Europe, there were none in Britain or Ireland, and Harry just wanted to get through his regular schooling alive before he thought about any of that. "Just want to get on with my OW—GCSEs and A-levels, you know. See what happens afterwards."

Fighting a fucking war, probably. But a war they can't even know about... he thought miserably.

"My dad wants me to be a pharmacist," said Rishi. "So I'm supposed to do sciences for A-levels. Bloody ball-ache, let me tell you. I wanted to do computing. Reckon it's going to be big. But..."

"I'm supposed to go to uni," Stevie said, "but my mum and dad don't mind what I do. So that's alright, I think."

"'Least you both get to choose," said Rishi. "'You will study pharmacy and you will like it!', that's what my dad always says. It's a bit rich coming from him, too—he's a bloody greengrocer."

"Pharmacists are on good money, though, aren't they?" asked Stevie as he flicked through the videos. "So it's not all bad."

"Yeah, but I'm shit at chemistry..." said Rishi.

"Oi, oi, lads!" said Johnny as he re-joined the group. "Got my poster. You fuckers finished up here or what? I wanted to nip to Woolworths to grab some sweets and then get along to Maccie's."

Rishi shrugged and gave up looking at the videos.

"Yeah, alright. I can pick up a new tape any time..."

The four boys left the shop, only Harry and Johnny actually having bought anything, and wandered along the high street chatting and looking in windows. The conversations revolved around girls and school, along with music and films and all the other things Harry didn't know about.

Harry found it hard to get too invested. The three other boys were his first real friends after primary school – the first ever, really, considering everyone there had been too afraid of Dudley to really get to know Harry – but the gulf between them was growing larger and larger with every day Harry spent as a wizard. Even without Voldemort and prophecies Harry would have almost nothing left in common with them, and that was a bitter pill to swallow.

A few hours later Harry slipped back inside Number Four. It was still light out, light enough that Dudley wouldn't have come home at least, and Vernon's car was parked in the drive. As Harry passed the kitchen, his aunt called out to him.

"Harry, a letter came for you. From, ah—school. It's on the kitchen table."

Harry ducked inside to grab the letter and saw his aunt sat at the table with her friend Yvonne, two oversized glasses of wine sat there with them along with a mostly empty bottle. His aunt didn't ordinarily drink alcohol before dinner, but then, when Yvonne was around, all the rules seemed to go out the window.

"Hello, Yvonne," Harry said as he grabbed the letter. "Aunt Petunia. Er, I'll just go read the letter, shall I?"

"Oh, no you don't!" said Yvonne. "It feels like I haven't seen you in years! Off at that alternative school of yours. Let me have a good look at you." She reached for Harry's t-shirt, her fingers tipped with long, pointed red nails.

Harry fought the urge to sigh. It wasn't that he didn't like Yvonne, although he could have done without seeing her. It was just that she was overly handsy, too affectionate – especially after a bottle of wine.

"Did you have a nice time with your friends, Harry?" asked Petunia. "With all that time at school he's hardly been able to see the friends he had from here," she explained to Yvonne. "And this summer has been so busy for us all."

"Er—yeah, it was nice seeing them again," said Harry, and it wasn't a complete lie. "I saw Stevie last summer, but I hadn't seen the others since before I left Stonewall."

"Oh, well I bet that was just lovely," said Yvonne. "Are you enjoying school? I know it can be difficult to make a move like that, but Pets tells me you're doing really well!"

"I, er—yeah, it's—I mean, it's really different, but you get used to it quickly enough. And I really do like it there. It feels right to go," said Harry, even though he just wanted to get away. But Yvonne had always been kind to him, if a bit overbearing, so he did want to be polite.

"Oh, well, I'm so happy to hear that!" Yvonne said. "You always were such a nice boy. It's good to see you thrive!"

Harry felt his ears go red.

"I—er—yeah, thank you," he said. "I'd better go and read the letter—I bet it's for, um, my school things..." He started to back slowly out of the kitchen. "It was nice seeing you again."

Before anyone could reply, he slipped out the kitchen door and ran right upstairs to his bedroom. Yvonne was better in small doses, and he really did want to get a look at his Hogwarts letter, as it was very late. It was almost the end of the summer holiday, and the letters usually arrived at the beginning of August at the latest.

Harry pulled open the letter and scanned over it to see what he'd need for the coming year.

"Blah, blah, blah, 'you are invited to attend'..." Harry read, "...'we are pleased to inform you that'... er, wait, what?"

Harry stared down at the letter. He read it again. "'We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a Prefect for Slytherin House this year. Please find enclosed your Prefect badge'. Snape made me a Prefect?"

Nothing about that seemed right to Harry. It was true that he'd never got into any real trouble at school, at least none of his own making aside from that one detention he'd served with Snape but being made a prefect entailed actual responsibility... and Harry didn't think he wanted it. There was the issue with Draco the previous year, too, and of course, Harry had killed a teacher. Not on purpose, but...

All that and a highly publicised trial before the Wizengamot. So what if Harry had been the plaintiff and not the defendant – that was still the sort of thing Snape disapproved of.

Harry sank into his desk chair and placed the letter onto the desk.

Perhaps Dumbledore had wanted to make a statement and having Harry Potter – the Boy-Who-Lived – as a Slytherin prefect would make a decent declaration of intent, Harry supposed. With Lucius Malfoy on the Wizengamot, and after the trial and arbitration, maybe Dumbledore wanted to showcase a different side of Slytherin. Even so, Harry didn't relish having to wear the badge everywhere and force the first years to do guided homework and revision sessions.

I wonder if I can just say no? Harry thought. He'd never heard of someone refusing the badge, but then, anyone who would was unlikely to brag about it.

But Harry took the badge from within the envelope and placed it safely on his desk anyway, since he didn't want to get into trouble for losing it before term had even started. Then he tackled his equipment list.

There usually weren't many – if any – new books for the core subjects, as the course material up to OWLs was covered in the texts they'd bought in first year. That year, however, whoever the new Defence professor was had gone all out and had included a list of books nearly as long as all the other subjects' put together.

"The entire collection of Gilderoy Lockhart books?" muttered Harry. That sounded odd, as they were mostly travel books, although the wizard himself was meant to be very talented and skilled in dealing with all sorts of Dark magic. The Lockhart book series, along with a theory book by some other wizard and one on Dark creatures, would take up quite a lot of space inside Harry's trunk. He'd have to reorganise the entire thing…

And that was without the additional equipment he required for Alchemy, but at least some of his potions stuff would be able to do double duty there.

Harry sighed and glanced over at his full-to-bursting school trunk. There were places on Diagon Alley where he could get the interior expanded, and although it was more expensive than he would have liked, he had to pay for it because he wasn't allowed to do magic at home. Even though the spell should be simple enough. Harry briefly considered lugging his trunk all the way to Diagon Alley just for a go at it but decided against it. It wasn't that expensive.

He wondered if the Lockhart travelogues were really necessary, but they were on the list and if he had to be a prefect then it would be a poor start getting in trouble over some bloody books...

Harry realised he'd need to ask his aunt or uncle for a lift into London to go get his stuff but didn't think that would be a problem. He could wait to ask, though, as asking his aunt while Yvonne was sat in the room seemed a recipe for disaster. 'Let's all three of us make a day of it!' Harry imagined Yvonne saying, and then Petunia's horrified expression at the thought of having to say no.

Far too much drama. Especially for a Lockhart travelogue.

So Harry put his school letter to one side and worked on the remaining bits of homework he had while he waited for dinner. He assumed it would be later than usual, anyway, given the mostly empty bottle of wine sat on the kitchen table. Perhaps even Continentally late if the two women cracked open another a bottle, although Vernon would complain if dinner really was later than nine. And Petunia rarely did finish the second bottle.

After a few hours wrestling with his homework an unusually cheery Petunia called upstairs to signal the start of dinner, and Harry joined her and Vernon at the table. Dudley was late for dinner, even though dinner itself was late, but nobody mentioned that. It was, Harry thought, skirting too close to the subject of Dudley's delinquent behaviour for either his aunt or uncle to want to address.

"Bit late having dinner tonight, aren't we, Pet?" Vernon asked as Petunia served the meal.

"Oh, you know what Yvonne's like," said Petunia, waving her hand. "Once she opens a bottle of wine she won't stop until she reaches the bottom!"

"Hmm," said Vernon, his opinion on that quite clear. "Well, it's nice, anyway." He paused. "Even if it is late."

"It's a new recipe I got from my magazine—you know the one, darling—and I just had to try it out. I thought I'd added too much paprika, but it's not overdone, is it?" She glanced over at Harry.

"Er, no—it's nice," he said. "Not overdone at all." Although he wasn't entirely sure what paprika tasted like, specifically.

Vernon didn't look overly pleased at the idea of paprika – he never was one for 'unusual' flavours – but as he'd already expressed his approval, said nothing more. Instead, he looked towards Harry and pointed his fork.

"Got your school letter today, did you? Late this year, wasn't it? I bet it's got to do with all that fuss I read about in the paper this week—some educational thing, big business apparently. Caused a bit of a stir politically, from what I can tell," he said.

Harry still hadn't got used to Vernon reading the wizarding papers. It was especially strange when Vernon knew things about current events that Harry didn't. But Harry had given up on the papers after the trial and the arbitration.

"Oh?" said Harry. "I hadn't read anything about that."

"Mm," said Vernon. "Some shake-up with the curriculum, something along those lines, anyway. I was more interested in the business pages, of course, but I did have a quick look over. Did you know those bloody goblins are agitating again? You know they want your lot to give them wands? Bloody bad idea, I'd say. Not that they'd want my opinion, but that bloke, what's his name, the one in the paper—well, he agrees with me."

Ah, Harry thought. There's the Vernon I recognise. Content to believe what he read in the papers, and apt to side against anything he didn't fully understand, or which was different enough from him that he'd need to think a little. Of course, on the matter of goblins and wands, Harry didn't think he was wrong – as much as Harry thought it wasn't wizards' right to deny goblins wands, it probably was safer.

Harry didn't mention that the 'bloke' from the paper was perhaps just as likely to support the return of muggle hunting as he was the continued prohibition of wand rights for goblins and other creatures if he was the one Harry was thinking of; it didn't seem like dinner conversation.

"I hope nothing comes of it," Harry said instead. "They've got all my money."

Vernon shrugged.

"Lad with your talent, you'll make it back in no time if something kicks off," said Vernon in between chomps of his food. "I'd be more worried about the long-term economic repercussions of—"

But Vernon didn't get to finish, as Dudley wandered in from the hallway and threw himself into the spare chair with such a force Harry worried it might break, followed by a strong smell tinged with a bit of smoke.

"What's for dinner?" he said, casting his eyes at the others' plates. "Anything good?"

He's stoned, Harry realised. Harry didn't think Vernon would recognise the smell, but Petunia... well, he had a funny feeling she would.

"Paprika chicken," Harry supplied. "Aunt Petunia made it from a new recipe," he continued, his tone light, casual.

Dudley helped himself to what remained in the serving dish at the centre of the table and dug in.

"Lost track of time, did you, Dudley my boy?" Vernon said. "Watch broken, is it?" His tone had changed, got as close to harsh as it ever did when chastising Dudley.

Dudley shrugged.

"We was just—we were just—er—we got held up a bit because Malcolm forgot his jacket and we couldn't have him walk back on his own this late, could we?" Dudley managed to say eventually. "Everyone says there's that gang of lads about, so it didn't seem fair." He seemed quite proud of his excuse, which as far as Dudley's excuses went, was actually pretty good. Harry had to give him credit for that, at least. Without the tell-tale smell it would have even been a very believable excuse.

Of course, 'that gang of lads' was Dudley and his friends, but Harry didn't think his aunt or uncle were ready to believe that just yet. That was a step too far.

"Hmm, well, try not to let it happen again," Vernon said.

Petunia looked set to say something else, and judging from the look on her face it probably wouldn't have gone well for Dudley. So Harry interrupted her, as he wanted a lift to London and asking after a little spat over Dudley's behaviour wasn't particularly conducive to a pleasant dinner.

"I was made a prefect this year," Harry said. "They told me in the letter. Isn't that nice? I didn't really want to be one, if I'm honest, but I suppose they choose who they choose..."

"You did do well in your exams," Petunia said.

"You are good at those sports your lot loves," said Vernon at the same time.

Dudley didn't seem to realise he'd been saved from a series of probing questions by Petunia, though, as he sat there with a sour look on his face, chewing his food.

"Er—I suppose that is true," Harry said. He hadn't thought of it in those terms, had seen it instead through the lens of Voldemort and blood politics, but his aunt and uncle did have a point. "Well, I was wondering if you could—either one of you—give me a lift into London this week so I can grab my school things? You don't have to come shopping with me—I can just be dropped off outside the Leaky Cauldron, that's alright."

Vernon opened his mouth to respond but Petunia cut him off.

"Yes, of course, Harry. We'll go tomorrow—you, me, and Dudley. We can make a day of it; I haven't been to that Alley of yours since, well, a very long time, and Dudley's never been, so it will be a nice day out, won't it? And then when we come home we can order a takeaway and watch a film together—all four of us. We haven't done that in ages, have we, so it will be lovely," Petunia said.

"Mum, me, you, and Harry spent all summer together. Remember, we went to Italy and Austria. Watched Harry do all those wizard things. Then we had a holiday with Dad," said Dudley. "We spent more time together this summer than we ever have."

"That was different," declared Petunia, although she didn't elaborate. "I think we'll leave nice and early to miss the traffic, and that gives us all day. Now, Vernon darling, what would you like tomorrow? Chinese or Indian? We could be a bit daring and try..." Petunia was saying, but Harry didn't listen.

Instead, he contemplated Diagon Alley with Dudley, and wondered just what he'd done to deserve that.