To say that Harry Potter was having a strange summer would be an understatement.

It all started when, about a week after the "Quirrell Incident," Arthur took Harry to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to debrief Madam Amelia Bones, Susan Bones' aunt, about the events leading up to Quirrell's demise.

Fortunately, Harry was not in any kind of trouble, as he was defending not just himself, but a powerful magical artifact as well as Hogwarts himself with magic he didn't even know hehad, so it didn't end up with him in any legal trouble for Quirrell's death.

Ah, Hogwarts... Harry missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes (even Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world (six tall goal posts, four flying balls, and fourteen players on broomsticks). While the Burrow will always be his home, Hogwarts very quickly became like a second home to him.

It had been a massive weight taken off of Harry's shoulders that he wouldn't get in trouble. It was something he had actually talked to Molly and Arthur about the morning after he returned home, haven been woken up by a nightmare of Quirrell's charred remains crumbling in his hands.

Flashback begins

Harry had not had a good night. It was only small mercies that Ron didn't wake up when Harry screamed himself awake, the face of both Quirrell and Voldemort haunting his dreams.

The rest of his family hadn't been as lucky.

It had been... rough, reliving those memories with everyone. Amusingly, when he had gotten to McGonagall's lack of handling things, it got Percy, normally such a stickler for the rules, to string out a rather impressive amount of curses at their Head of House.

Finally, it was Arthur who spoke, knowing that his wife would behave emotionally in order to protect the boy who, while not by blood, was still their son nonetheless. "Harry, the fact that you are losing sleep about these things tells me that you are not a bad person. You may not agree with me now, but I want you to listen to me. You are not a murderer. You have killed, yes. But it was not a murder. You did what you had to do in order to keep yourself alive. No one, and I mean no one will ever fault you for that, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, not willing to trust his voice as he was enveloped in another bone-crushing hug by Molly, then Arthur, then Percy, then the twins, and finally by Ginny.

Flashback end

That had only been the start of a number of rather odd circumstances this summer, he mused as he looked at himself in the mirror. Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. The Weasleys all had flaming red hair with freckles. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.

It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Weasley's doorstep eleven years before.

At the age of one year old, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow — nobody understood why —Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.

So Harry had been brought up by the Weasley's, who loved and raised Harry as though he was their own because, in their eyes, he was.

Which led to today, which happened to be Harry's twelfth birthday, which meant a fantastic day of Molly's cooking, followed by a brilliant cake. There was only one thing bothering him.

Why hadn't Hermione wrote to him?

That was the major thing that was worrying Harry as he headed outside to get some fresh air. She was his best friend, he should've heard from her by now...

...Right?

Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the tall reeds—and the reeds were staring back . Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

The creature slipped out of the reeds and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm— and leg-holes.

"Er — hello," said Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir…Such an honor it is.…"

"Th-thank you," said Harry, realizing that the creature was in fact a house elf. But why would a house elf be here? "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"Oh — really?" said Harry. "Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir…it is difficult, sir…Dobby wonders where to begin.…"

"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bench he was currently sitting on.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"S-sit down !" he wailed. "Never …never ever …"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —"

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an equal —"

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't — what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby away from the window and firmly having the house elf sit until he calmed down.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir.…"

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir.…Dobby is a house-elf — bound to serve one house and one family forever. It is how we's survives, sir. House elves, you see. We need magic to survives, like how wizards and witches need food and water. If we becomes unbound..." Dobby trailed off sadly.

"You die." Harry whispered. "Do they know you're here?"

"Oh, no, sir, no…Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir —"

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments.…"

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free…Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir.…"

Harry stared. "That... That sounds like slavery, Dobby. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude. Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby…Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew.…"

Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she —"

But he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.

"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —"

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My brother Ron shudders whenever I say it.'

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago…that Harry Potter escaped yet again ."

Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later.…Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts ."

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back — term starts on September first."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me ?"

A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol— — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named , sir —"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing — you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" — Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't…powers no decent wizard…"

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized one of Fred's Beater's Bats, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

"What was that?!" Molly called from the kitchen.

Thinking fast, Harry called back. "Sorry, that was me! Garden Gnome took me by surprise!"

Turning back to Dobby, he sighed. "Listen, I appreciate that you're risking a lot coming here, but I need to go back to Hogwarts. My best friends are there!"

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been — wait a minute," said Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —"

"Have you been stopping my letters? "

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Neville's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry.…Dobby hoped…if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him…Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir.…"

Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"No," said Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.

Before Harry could move, Dobby snapped his fingers, and the tall reeds that encircled the Burrow erupted into flames. "Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby…please…"

"Say it, sir —"

"I can't —"

Dobby gave him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The flames suddenly turned blue, and Harry could almost swear he saw skeletal faces from inside the flames. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

"Mum!" Harry screamed. "Mum! Some insane house elf just summoned some kind of fire!"

"Harry, get inside!" Arthur yelled, turning to Molly. "Call Dumbledore, then help me with this! Aguamenti!"

But the water charm did nothing to quell the azure flames. No sooner did Harry enter the kitchen did Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape emerged from the fireplace. "I saw that the wards were triggered. Molly what-?" He asked before seeing the blue flames from the corner of his eye, his face visibly paling. "Protego Diabolica..." He whispered. "Molly, I need you to join me, Minerva and Severus. We have to make a circle around The Burrow and cast Finite at the ground. This will create what's known as a Finite Field, protecting The Burrow while also nullifying any magic attempting to enter."

Molly nodded her understanding as her children ran downstairs to try to see what was happening. "Harry, I want you to take your siblings and Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. We'll come get you when it's safe, okay?"

Harry nodded and, after grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, threw it into the fireplace and, with a cry of "The Leaky Cauldron!", the Weasley children vanished off to safety.

So uh... I'm not gonna lie. I didn't think things would get that intense when I first started writing this chapter. I just kept writing and writing and suddenly this insane idea hit me and I decided to run with it.

Now I bet your wondering, "How the hell did Dobby use Dark Magic?" Well, I kinda explained it with my reinterpretation of how House Elves work. They feed off of magic, any magic, be it light or Dark. So, if a house elf like Dobby has been consistently been consuming Dark Magic because his master is a Dark Wizard... Boom. Dark Magic Dobby. Does that make sense? I hope it does.

Anyway, to cover all my bases, yes. Harry has PTSD from killing Quirrell. Of course he would. The only reason he didn't in the original series was because I suspect at the time, Rowling was still seeing these books as children's stories. I am not Rowling. Harry has killed, and he's gonna be more than a little fucked up because of it. But he's still going to have everyone who cares about him to help him make it through.

Which leads me to another thing: Harry can now see Thestrals. Seriously, how in the ever living Kentucky Fried fuck does killing Quirrell with his bare hands not constitute as Harry seeing death, but watching Cedric die does? It makes absolutely no sense and I'm choosing to rectify it.

Anyways, that's about it from me. Welcome to Book 2 and thank you for reading!

As always, drive the speed limit, drink some water, and love one another. Pizza!