Chapter 1 - A dreary summer

The summers in England could be fussy. One day there might be gloriously blazing sunshine and temperatures high enough to make you wish you could spend the day in and around a swimming pool. Other days it could be overcast, wet and miserable with the temperatures dropping to the point you would consider putting on a warm jumper. Normally you could be guaranteed a fair of mix weather between the two extremes, but not this summer. Instead the weather outside number four Privet drive was as dark as Harry's mood.

Since returning from Hogwarts at the start of the summer the days had been long and miserable. He had stayed in his room most of the time feeling wretched, as all he could think about was the return of Voldemort and the death of Cedric Diggory; Events that both haunted his dreams.

He was constantly on edge, expecting every shadow to possess some agent of evil to leap out and attack him, or that one-day he simply wouldn't wake up from the dreadful nightmares that kept him in restless sleep each night.

Turning away from the window that overlooked the neat back garden of number four Privet Drive, Harry sucked idly on the end of his quill, the fathers tickling his chin ever so slightly. He had been let of doing most of his schoolwork over the summer, but after the events of last term he needed the study to keep his mind occupied.

Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the open potions book before him and began reading. “Spiritus glimisojan,” he read out loud, “is an ointment applied to the eyes that allows a witch or wizard to see the essence of a person no longer alive. To make, take the gall of a bull, ant’s eggs and the fat of a white hen. Mix together and apply to the eyes directly.”

Harry frowned. Potions had always been his least favourite subject, mainly because of the potions master Professor Snape, but also because it always seemed to involve nasty smelling, feeling and tasting mixtures that you had to either drink or rub on bits of yourself. Potions even beat Divination, a subject in which Professor Trelawney seemed to predict his death every other lesson.

Harry scribbled a note in the corner of his textbook. Gall means gallbladder. And underlined it a couple of times.

If only he could visit Ron or Hermione, he thought idly as he turned the page. But Dumbledore's words echoed through his mind. "Stay at home this summer Harry. You will be safe there. I promise."

Safe? How could he feel safe anywhere except Hogwarts near Dumbledore?

A hoot off to his left drew his flagging attention from his Potions book and on to Hedwig, only for him to cringe when he heard an all too familiar "That ruddy owl!"

Harry dived at the cage that Hedwig was in and flung open the door. Probably sensing Uncle Vernon's approach, she spread her wings and took flight out of the bedroom window and out into the overcast day.

"Where is it?" growled Uncle Vernon barging through Harry's closed door, beady eyes darting about the room, taking in the open magick books on the desk and the empty cage before finally settling on Harry.

Harry rounded on his overweight relative and glared at him. "Out."

A muscle in Uncle Vernon's cheek began to twitch in a steady rhythm and Harry focused on that rather than the small, sunken eyes that were now spearing him with unkindness.

"If it comes back with a letter..." warned Uncle Vernon, his voice low and somewhat menacing.

"What if she did?" Harry asked defiantly. He used to be slightly scared of his overweight Uncle. He had always been small for his age and being pushed around by someone ten times your size was... disconcerting to say the least. But after facing Voldemort three times, and surviving each time, he was becoming less and less afraid of other things.

Of course Voldemort still scared him, as evidenced by his waking up at least once a night in a cold sweat diving for his wand before he realised it was just a dream.

Uncle Vernon seemed taken aback by Harry's attitude, rocking back on his heels like he had been punched. "W... w... WHAT?" he bellowed. "How DARE you?"

Harry turned his back and his eyes fell on his wand. It was so tempting to pick it up and perform a curse. But of course that was forbidden. He was still underage and, as such, not allowed to perform magic out side of Hogwarts except in an emergency. He doubted that the need to knock some sense into his Uncle would count.

He was still clinging to the very last words Mrs Weasley had said to him at the start of the summer like a life preserver. "I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer dear," she had said in the soft tone he always seemed to hear when she was talking to him. How he wished that he could believe that, but events in the wizarding world were, once again, proceeding without him.

He had no idea if Voldemort had gained any of his former power back, or if the collection of wizards and witches being assembled by Dumbledore had made any progress thwarting him. He had no idea what was happening at all, and that was the worst thing. For all he knew, Cedric Diggory had been the first of many deaths. Deaths that he would feel responsible for as it was he who was involved, allbeit unwillingly, in the rise of the dark lord.

Before Harry could even say anything else, Uncle Vernon had spun about on his heels, stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He could also hear the click of the lock that had been installed two years ago to keep him a prisoner in the room, sliding home. Of course it would only take a simple spell to open the door, but again, underage wizards were not allowed to do magic.

Harry slid into the chair before his desk and laid his head down upon the book strewn surface. Because of the lack of sleep he had been suffering, he was nearly always tired. He still didn’t get that much to eat because Dudley was still on his ineffective diet and taking as much of Harry’s meals as he could get his podgy hands on.

As usual, life at number 4 Privet Drive was hell on earth.

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