AN: By special request from STARGIRL4667. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Attack

The challenge was to mow the grass as slowly as possible without arousing suspicion from Mrs. Figg. Sometimes Harry thought his Summer lawn care business was the best idea he'd ever had. It wasn't that he needed the money; his late parents had left him plenty after being tragically murdered by the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort when Harry was just a baby. No, the true value of his little business venture was that it gave him an excuse to get out of the house and away from the Dursleys, his aunt and uncle who had reluctantly taken him in, and their evil son. They may have done what was necessary to keep him alive for the first 15 years of his life, but they clearly considered him to be a burden and did very little to hide this fact. Any excuse he had to spend time away from them was a blessing, even if it meant doing yard work for the neighbors under the hot Summer sun. At least he had comfort in the fact that, come September 1, he would be heading back to Hogwarts, an ancient castle where he got to study magic alongside his best friends. Nowhere on Earth had ever felt like home to Harry the way his school did.

Harry continued to push the lawn mower along slowly, drawing out his time away from the Dursley home as much as possible, but the front lawns in his neighborhood simply weren't very big. All too soon for Harry's liking, he ran out of grass to mow. He wiped some sweat from his brow before pushing Mrs. Figg's mower to the shed in the back garden, stowing it away until the next time. He silently prayed that the grass would grow quickly before walking back around to the front door and ringing the doorbell. Moments later the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Figg, an older woman who had lived in the neighborhood for many years, remaining even after the passing of her husband a few years prior.

"Hello, Harry. All Done with the grass, then?" asked Mrs. Figg.

"All done, Mrs. Figg. Is there anything else I can help you with today? No extra charge for one of my favorite customers." Harry mentally crossed his fingers in hope that his old neighbor could find some mundane task to help delay his return to the Dursley home. He was willing to do just about anything.

Mrs. Figg smiled, seemingly flattered at being referred to as a favorite customer, but shook her head. "That's very kind of you, but I don't have anything else that needs doing today." Harry's heart sank. "And I wouldn't dream of asking for free labor, I'm no cheapskate," Mrs. Figg said with a wink.

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't dream of suggesting that you were, Mrs. Figg."

"Now let's see, I think I have the amount I owe you right here." Mrs. Figg reached into her wallet and pulled out the agreed-upon fee, which Harry graciously accepted and pocketed.

"How is Button doing?" Harry asked, inquiring after Mrs. Figg's elderly cat who he knew had recently been suffering from a bit of an upset stomach. Stalling had become a specialty of his, as he gradually learned which topics were the most likely to get each of his clients in a chatty mood. Sure enough, as usual, Mrs. Figg was more than happy to talk about her cats. They stood in the doorway talking for a few more minutes, but he couldn't very well keep her engaged in conversation forever. Mrs. Figg finally bid Harry goodbye, and it was time to start trudging toward the house.

Harry slowly wandered down the street and turned a corner before Dudley, his pig-headed cousin, came out from where he'd been hiding behind a parked car. "Going somewhere?" Dudley asked with a smirk.

"What do you want, Dudley?" Harry demanded. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this. He tried to continue walking, but his cousin moved into his path.

"How much did you make today?" Dudley stood firm with his arms crossed, a smirk painted onto his face.

"None of your business," Harry said as he once again tried to walk past his cousin. Dudley stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. He backed up a step, shrugging off the touch. "Don't touch me."

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Give me your money."

"Are you serious?" Once a bully, always a bully, Harry supposed. It seemed as if Dudley would never change. Even his tactics were old and tired. A younger Harry would have had little choice but to do as he was asked but, unlike his cousin, he'd learned quite a few new tricks over the past few years.

"Yes, I'm serious," Dudley snarled. "Hand over your money or I'll beat the bogies out of you and take it myself."

Harry took a deep breath. Sure, he didn't need the money, but it was the principle of the thing. Living with the Dursleys was bad enough without a cousin who still thought he could push Harry around after all these years. With a practiced hand, he quickly pulled his wand out of his back pocket and touched its tip to the base of his cousin's throat. Dudley stiffened, his demeanor completely changing from the strong, confident bully he'd been only moments before. Dudley and his parents were muggles, that is, people without magical abilities. This was largely the source of their disdain of Harry, as they found anything involving magic to be completely abhorrent. As much as Dudley liked to call Harry a freak for possessing magic, he had the sense to know that he couldn't compete with supernatural power.

"Y-you can't use th-that out-outside of school!" Dudley stammered out, fear coating his voice as his face grew pale.

"Oh yeah? Just try me." He dug the tip of his wand a little deeper into Dudley's flesh. It was true that it was illegal for underaged wizards to use magic outside of school, and that Harry could get into a lot of trouble for doing so, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least threaten his cousin into thinking he might be able to risk it just to put him in his place.

Dudley flinched and shivered despite the Summer heat. Harry was just about to put his wand away and continue walking, leaving his cousin to cower in the street, when the sky suddenly grew dark. At first it looked like a cloud had merely drifted in front of the sun, but it continued to get darker and, within seconds, it looked like the dead of night despite only being late afternoon. It was darker than that, even, as the streetlights weren't even on.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Make it stop!" Dudley cried out as he covered his head with his hands.

Harry had removed his wand from Dudley's throat and was nervously glancing around. "I'm not doing this," he said. The wind began to pick up then, blowing Harry's already messy hair into even crazier configurations. A chill went up his spine and the hairs on his arms were on edge. Something was very wrong.

"Run!" Harry said, and they did. The wind blew harder, as if it were trying to push them around and, on top of everything else, it started to rain. Dudley was stumbling and struggling along, being very out of shape. Harry kept looking behind him to see if his cousin was still there, pausing for a second every once in a while so that he could catch up. "Hurry!"

"I'm trying!" Dudley said, his breathing heavy with the effort it was taking to keep up the pace. Harry began to realize that it was going to take them too long to make it all the way back to the Dursley residence. He still had no idea what was causing all of this, but he knew it couldn't be anything good, and that they couldn't afford to waste time. Remembering that there was a nearby tunnel under an overpass, he decided its shelter would have to do for the time being. He changed course, urging an increasingly agitated Dudley along with him, until they at last reached the tunnel.

The tunnel was creepy at the best of times, being little more than a concrete tube that allowed for passage beneath the overpass above. It featured puddles from unknown water sources, discarded trash, and lots of graffiti. In the dark, however, it reached new levels of creepy. With the wind whistling through it, it was filled with a long, eerie wailing sound that made Harry's skin crawl. Despite having had many pleasant conversations with ghosts, it was hard for him to refrain from worrying that the tunnel might be haunted. But it was still better than being out in the open with some unknown threat looming over them.

Dudley was doubled over, trying to catch his breath. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. He cautiously peered out of the mouth of the tunnel, trying to see if he could gain any more information, but it was so dark that he could hardly see anything at all.

"I swear, if you're doing this-"

"I don't have the power to turn off the sun, Dudley." Exasperated, Harry ran a hand through his dampened hair. "You stay here, I'm going to wander out a bit to see what I can figure out." A high-pitched whimper from his cousin was the only response. "Dudley?"

The temperature suddenly dropped, the puddles making crackling sounds as they froze over. The air seemed to thicken, rippling around Harry's bare arms like ocean water. Then Dudley screamed, a horrified sound that Harry didn't even know his cousin could make, which echoed off the concrete walls. Harry's blood seemed to freeze as he whipped around to see a dark figure flying down the tunnel toward them.

Black wind whipped around it like smoke. Its body was almost entirely covered by a tattered black cloak that billowed out behind it like dark flames. Long, gray fingers with sharp claws protruded from the sleeves. Its face was completely hidden by its hood, a fact for which Harry was thankful, for he knew what this creature was. It was a dementor, one of the horrifying creatures that guarded Azkaban, the high-security wizard prison. They fed off of happiness, leaving those around them feeling nothing but crippling despair. But the worst part, Harry recalled, was what happened when their hoods were lowered. Dementors could perform what was known as the dementor's kiss, which could suck out a person's soul, leaving them nothing but a shell. It was said to be fate worse than death itself.

Despite its slow movements, the dementor had nearly reached Dudley, who seemed to have gone into a state of shock, unable to will himself to run. Harry knew he had to act fast. He pointed his wand, still gripped tightly in his hand, at the dark figure and said, "Expecto patronum!" A bright shield of white magic erupted from the end of his wand, filling the tunnel with its glow and sending the dementor flying down the tunnel back the way that it came. It wasn't a full patronus, which seemed to take much more concentration from him to pull off, but it was enough to scare off their would be attacker for the time being. Harry sagged in relief.

Dudley still didn't move. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape. He stared at where the dementor had been as if he could still see it hovering there, reaching for him. "We have to move," Harry said, hoping to snap his cousin out of it. He'd scared the dementor off, but who knew if it would return, or if there were others? But when his cousin didn't reply, he resorted to grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the tunnel. To his relief, Dudley allowed himself to be pulled along, though he seemed completely unaware of his surroundings.

They hurried down the streets of their neighborhood as fast as Harry could go while pulling his cousin behind him. He was soaked to the skin from the rain that wouldn't stop falling, but he didn't stop. "Almost there," he whispered. Dudley was still unresponsive, but that was a problem to deal with once they reached safety.

Harry was about to turn down another street when he suddenly came to a screeching halt, causing Dudley to run into him, knocking him to the ground, his knees landing in a growing puddle. The way ahead was the fastest way back to the house, but floating down the street was yet another dementor, hovering along slowly as if looking for something. Harry swore as he picked himself up as quickly as he could before casting another patronus charm, sending yet another dementor scurrying away.

With the way now clear, Harry grabbed Dudley's arm and they trudged ahead. He tried to pick up the pace, though he'd already been pushing his cousin's speed as it was. Finally, the Dursley home was in sight. It was the home stretch. Harry made a beeline for the front door, Dudley stumbling along behind him in stunned silence, and had just reached the driveway when he spotted a dementor coming toward them. For the third time.

Frantically, Harry pushed Dudley up the front stairs, which proved to be considerably harder than simply pulling him around. Once his cousin's mental breakdown had been relocated to the stoop, Harry turned to what he prayed would be the final dementor. He was exhausted, the effort just to raise his wand arm was overwhelming, but he pushed through it all as he pointed his wand at his target and said, "Expecto patronum!" He put everything he had into this final patronus charm, all his concentration and strength, and it paid off. Instead of the small shield that had scared off the first two dementors, a white, glowing stag erupted from his wand and chased the dementor off, its antlers angled straight ahead. The dementor flew off into the horizon and out of sight.

The rain finally stopped. The wind slowed to a light breeze, and the sun returned to illuminate the neighborhood once again. Harry sagged in relief. He looked up at Dudley, still in a state of shock, and suddenly was very concerned about what would happen when he walked through the front door, dragging his aunt and uncle's precious son behind him. But this, unfortunately, was not a moment he could stall for. With a deep breath, he opened the door and gently led Dudley through it.

"My little Diddykins!" Aunt Petunia exclaimed as she ran up to her son. They'd barely even made it through the door before she was wrapping Dudley in a hug. It was no surprise to Harry that she didn't even seem to notice that he was there. "I was so worried when that storm came on all of a sudden, and you weren't home yet!"

With Harry's own homecoming being completely ignored, Harry walked around his cousin and aunt, eager to change into some warm, dry clothes and take a nap. "Hold on a second, boy," Uncle Vernon said as he suddenly appeared in the entryway. "Where do you think you're going?"

Harry sighed. "To change." He indicated his soaking wet clothes.

"What were you doing out?"

"I was mowing Mrs. Figg's lawn, remember?" It was exhausting constantly having to let his uncle know of his whereabouts. For a man who seemed to hate having him around, Uncle Vernon sure did have a strange obsession with controlling Harry's comings and goings.

"You've been mowing her lawn this whole time?"

"Well, I was on my way back when the storm hit and-"

"Dudley? Dudley, are you alright, darling? What's wrong?" It seemed Aunt Petunia had stopped fussing over her son long enough to notice that he was still in a completely traumatized state.

Uncle Vernon's face turned red. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"I- There was- I didn't-" Harry couldn't find the words to explain what had just happened, not in a way that his uncle would ever understand.

"You didn't what?" Uncle Vernon was yelling, his fury frightening Harry almost as much now as it had when he was young. Sometimes he thought he would fear his uncle for as long as he lived, no matter how much magical training he completed.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry managed to blurt out.

"Don't give me that, something happened, look at the boy! You've gone and made him all loopy!"

Harry glanced at Dudley, who still didn't seem to even know where he was. "It was-"

Before Harry could even try to finish that sentence, a howler appeared in midair. In the Wizarding World, howlers were letters that had been enchanted to read their contents aloud to their recipients. The arrival of the howler was so unexpected, even before it made a sound, that Harry, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia all stopped what they were doing to simply stare at it. And then it began to speak, and as it did, Harry felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach.

"To Mr. Harry James Potter and his guardians," the howler began in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a middle aged woman reading a business notice. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic hereby charges Mr. Potter, hereafter known as the defendant, with misuse of underage magic and performing magic in front of a muggle. The potential sentences include, but are not limited to, expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as well as the loss of magical privileges. The defendant is expected to appear at his hearing before the Wizengamot at the Ministry of Magic this coming Wednesday at 11 am, accompanied by a parent or guardian. Directions to follow. Sincerely yours, Mafalda Hopkirk."

With its message delivered, the howler fell limp to the floor. Harry just stared at it, unable to fully process what he'd just heard. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, was grinning.

"Well, well. Listen to that, it sounds like you won't be getting away with this after all," Uncle Vernon said, his voice dripping with glee. "Say goodbye to your freaky little school, and your freaky little friends…"

"It's just as well," Aunt Petunia cut in. "We can finally enroll you in a normal school and leave all of this magical nonsense behind us."

Harry just stared blankly at his aunt and uncle, his heart breaking. It was self defence, they had to understand that, didn't they? They couldn't take Hogwarts from him. It was the only place he'd ever felt at home, the only place he'd ever felt like someone cared. Life without it was beyond unfathomable.

"You'll have to take the boy, Petunia. It's a busy week at work," Uncle Vernon was saying as Harry contemplated the end of life as he knew it.

Aunt Petunia let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're right. I do hope it's over quickly so I won't have to spend too much time in that nasty place…"

As his aunt and uncle discussed the logistics of taking him to his disciplinary hearing, Harry stormed up the stairs to his room, his eyes burning.