Harry Potter 1. Out of Privet Drive?

Chapter One

Emerald green eyes opened as a boy with a head full of messy, jet-black hair rubbed his forehead and sat up.

"Stupid scar…" he muttered, collapsing back into his pillow.

Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter lay in his bed in the hateful house of the Dursleys, staring up at the ceiling. His twinging scar had awaked him so many times that week, all after the same nightmare. He'd dreamed that he and his best friend, Ron Weasley, had been fighting the most powerful and feared dark wizard in the world: Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped him several times already, the most recent last year. In his dream, Voldemort had turned into Sirius when Ron cast the Disarming spell, and then Sirius had attacked Ron, who'd turned into Hermione…it was all such a great big mess. Then his scar would burn, waking him up. He'd find himself twisted and tangled in his covers, his mop of hair wet with sweat.

But what was there to do? Harry couldn't control what he dreamed of when he slept; without means of magic, that is. And he wasn't allowed to do magic in the Muggle World. One more incident and he'd be expelled from Hogwarts for sure. That was the last thing Harry wanted. That would mean he'd be stuck at the Dursleys for the rest of his life. Harry groaned at the miserable thought.

Voldemort wasn't the only thing that had been on his mind that summer. Cho kept drifting in and out of his mind, haunting him with memories of her tears. Harry instantly felt guilty; he realized he really hadn't been sympathetic at all. If anything, he'd been terrible, and wasn't quite sure how Cho had managed to stay with him that long. Harry knew he had to apologize; but he didn't quite want anything to do with her; or any girl anymore. It had been quite the experience; not an experience he wanted to go through again. Well, anytime soon, that is.

Harry looked at the luminous clock on his bedside table. It read five o'clock. Five in the morning…it was so early. Harry shut his eyes, trying to fall asleep again. He was rather unsuccessful, and ended up pushing his glasses onto his nose and going over to his table to work on a terrible Potions essay Professor Snape had assigned over summer break. Professor Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry's father had gone to school with Snape, and the two had loathed each other. Now that James Potter was gone, Snape turned his hate onto Harry.

Dipping his quill into a bottle of scarlet ink, Harry scratched away, pausing here and there to think before he wrote anything else down. He knew it was a load of old tosh; he'd have to send it to Hermione Granger when he was done so she could look over it. Hermione was a good friend of his. Even though she was a muggle, she was the smartest witch in their year at Hogwarts. Many people were jealous of her; how could a common muggle be better at magic than a pureblood? That was answered easily. It was rare to see Hermione without her nose buried in a book of some sort.

Hearing a grunt from, no doubt, Uncle Vernon in the next room, Harry lifted his quill mid-word and held his breath, hoping sincerely his uncle didn't come barging into his room. Hearing loud snores, Harry let his breath out and continued writing. He glanced over to Hedwig, who was in her cage, her head under her wing. She was sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by terrible nightmares. Harry sighed, and went back to writing his essay.

Only a few minutes later, he ran out of things to put in the essay. There were only so many things you could write about potions! Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, putting his quill down. He still had five inches to write; how did Hermione manage it? She could go over the page requirement, even with her tin, neat handwriting. Harry wrote rather largely, not unlike Ron's, and even then, he wasn't able to get at all close to the requirement. Giving up, he rolled the scroll up, added a quick note to Hermione asking her to look it over, and tied it up. He'd send it as soon as Hedwig woke up.

His eye caught a leather-bound book. Harry remembered it as the photo album Hagrid had given him in his first year. At once, Harry opened it to the picture showing his parent's wedding day. There was Sirius, laughing as usual. Harry's scar burned for a moment, causing him to flinch. Sirius…Harry still felt it was his fault that his godfather was dead. If only he hadn't been so thick…but there wasn't anything he could do. He'd just have to cope…but that was the last thing he wanted to do.

A barn owl tapped on his window at six in the morning. Yawning, Harry stood up from his seat and threw the window open. Taking the Daily Prophet, the daily wizards newspaper from the owl, he dropped a few strange-shaped coins into the bag tied to the owl's foot. It flew up, leaving Harry with the newspaper. Opening it up, Harry scanned the headlines. It didn't look like Voldemort had done anything, but several of his death eaters had gone into action. They hadn't killed anyone yet, but they had tortured a great number of people, wizards and muggles alike. Not wanting to read any further, Harry rolled the newspaper up and threw it in a corner. The thump woke Hedwig, who screeched irritably. Surely the screech carried to his Aunt and Uncle's room…by no means would Harry want his relatives awake. In his opinion, asleep was the way he liked them best.

Unfortunately, they had awoken, half an hour before their alarm clock would go off. Grumpily, Uncle Vernon thumped towards Harry's room. Quickly, Harry threw his glasses onto his bedside table, switched the lights off, and jumped into bed. Two seconds later, Uncle Vernon opened the door of Harry's room.

"Can't you keep that blasted owl silent?" Uncle Vernon shouted, his face already tomato red. "It's woken me at six in the morning three times this week with it's bloody screams!" He continued raging, his face changing color from purple to puke green in the time span of less than a second. Harry shut his eyes tight, not wanting to hear a thing his Uncle said. "Do you hear me, boy? Keep that owl quiet or I'll have to throw her out!"

"Empty threat. Remember the end of last year, at King's Cross? Remember the wiz- I mean, people who told you I ought to be allowed to do as I please? That includes my owl," Harry said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, as if he'd just awoken. "Or I'll write to them."

Uncle Vernon's face turned an ugly puce color as he sputtered for words. Not finding any, he let out a cry of frustration and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry heard him go into the bathroom, and heard the tap run. Closing his eyes, he heard his uncle trample down the stairs and make his coffee. Sighing, he turned over in his bed.


	2. On the Train at Last

Chapter Two

"Uncle Vernon? I've…got to catch the train today," Harry said, confronting Uncle Vernon the next morning. Uncle Vernon grunted.

"What about those people who we met at the station when we came to pick you up, eh? Why can't they give you a lift, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked, never taking his beady eyes from the newspaper he was reading. Taking a big gulp of steaming coffee, he turned the page and read on.

"They're…busy," Harry said. But Uncle Vernon had brought up a point; Why _didn't_ Moody and Lupin and the rest of the gang come to pick him up? Perhaps they really were busy, doing things for the Order. Right. That had to be it, what other explanation was there?

"Get your things ready, boy, I've got to go to London anyways, might as well be today. Got to get Dudders a new suit. The one from last year is too small."

Harry nodded and went upstairs to grab his trunk. He dragged it down the stairs, and ran up to get Hedwig. Placing his trunk and Hedwig's cage by the door, Harry went into his room and collapsed onto the bed. Back to Hogwarts…he couldn't wait. But it'd be so different without Sirius to write to…

Memories of Sirius came flooding back. Harry's scar gave a painful twinge, and he shut his eyes, in hope of blocking the terrible memories he remembered of Sirius. It was strange; Harry had to think hard to remember the good times he had spent with Sirius, while the bad memories, especially the one when Sirius fell through the veil, came back constantly, when he was both awake and asleep. He would never forget that day… Harry shuddered at the thought.

Harry was brought back to Earth with a bump and a crash when Uncle Vernon shouted for him to leave ("I haven't got all day, boy!"). Giving himself a shake, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and headed out the door.

The ride to London wasn't a pleasant trip. Uncle Vernon shouted until his face was beet red, and didn't stop there. What was worst was he hadn't been complaining about anything in particular. He was merely insulting anything and everything, his favorite topic being, of course, Harry. By the time they (Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley) had reached King's Cross, Harry was fuming. He was afraid he'd accidentally blow the car up; strange things like that happened when he was feeling a strong emotion; not that he cared about the car, he just didn't want to be expelled at Hogwarts. At last, the Dursley's car turned the corner and was gone in a puff of dust. Lugging his things towards the Platform, Harry grinned the first real grin he'd grinned in days. He was on his way back to Hogwarts.

As he entered Platform 9 ¾, a tiny tennis ball-sized ball of feathers and fluff collided with him. Harry jumped, startled. Catching the ball of fluff in his free hand, he grinned again.

"Pig!" Harry said, laughing. He looked up, and there was the mop of red hair, as he'd expected. "Trying to kill me before we even get to school, Ron?" he asked in a sarcastic tone to his best friend, Ronald Weasley. Things were looking up already, and he hadn't even boarded the train yet. Ron ran towards Harry's general direction, knocking several people off course, who turned around to glare at him as they picked their luggage up. Ron didn't seem to mind. Or perhaps hadn't even noticed.

"Harry!" he said, waving a long, gangly arm. Over the summer, Ron seemed to have grown a good few inches, and was more freckled than ever. "Wonder where Hermione is? I saw her in Diagon Alley last week. Pity you couldn't have come, we met up with Goyle there. We left him in the street outside the Apothecary with all sorts of hexes," Ron said with a grin.

Harry had to laugh. It sounded like the Weasleys had had some fun in Diagon Alley, but he wasn't too sure Hermione agreed with that act. He could just imagine the scene…Ron and his brothers laughing and throwing hex after hex at Goyle, while Hermione tried to block them with counter curses… Ron was right. Pity he hadn't been able to go with the Weasleys. Harry had gone with Lupin three weeks ago, when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter.

Lupin seemed to be acting as Harry's guardian, now that Sirius was…gone. Perhaps it was helping Lupin himself deal with his sorrow; his school friends, his best friends, had all been lost. His friends, the ones who stuck by his side even after they discovered his deepest secret. His fear of the full moon. And now they were gone. Harry, being so much like his father in so many aspects, must have helped Lupin cope.

"I wish I was there to see it," Harry answered Ron with a grin. "I can just see Goyle in the streets, with hex marks all over him…" Harry sighed dreamily, laughing. "Didn't Hermione try and stop you?"

"Definitely yes!" A shrill voice from behind the boys made them start. Ron put his hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath; at the entrance of a certain bushy-haired brown girl, he had choked, his face in close resemblance of a rather large radish. "It was very wrong of you to do such a thing, I honestly can't believe you and your terrible brothers carried on like that!"

Ron coughed again, sputtering for a few moments. "So? He's _Goyle_, and we were just having a bit of fun!" Ron complained. Harry rolled his eyes. They hadn't even reached the school and his two best friends were bickering again…obviously nothing had changed over the vacation. Two identical redheads came bobbing up, crash-bombing into Harry, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Hedwig gave a loud screech as she was disturbed from her sleep.

"Fred! George!" Ron asked, gaping at his twin brothers as if they had fifty pairs of arms sticking out of their stomachs. "What are you doing here?" he asked blankly.

"To see you off, of course!" Fred said with a chuckle that couldn't mean anything good.

"Mum made us come, she said it would be unkind of us not to bid you duds goodbye," George added.

"But you won't mind if I don't give you a kiss goodbye, do you?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, we're afraid _someone_ would get mad at us," George said, the twins staring pointedly at Hermione. Ron's face turned a fancy shade of puce, while Hermione, on the other hand, being deeply immersed in a textbook, hadn't noticed a thing.

"Ah, we see the little heartthrob hasn't changed," Fred said with a sigh.

"You'll have to boost your standard, Ronnikins," George said, shaking his head. The train whistled, announcing that it would depart in three minutes.

"Better not miss the train…and before you go, you lot, we've got something for you," Fred said.

"Generosity of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George said with a grin, dumping a bagload of mischief-making items into the laps of Ron, Harry and Hermione. "We've already given a load to Gin, she's promised to keep up our name. You've got to do it too, or we'll take away our gift."

Hermione made a disgusted face. "I could _never_!" she said, horrified at the very thought of taking the place of Fred and George. She shoved the bag of items back at George, who looked utterly insulted.

"How can you refuse a bag of our Wizarding Wheezes?" Fred asked, horror in his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes and clambered into the train. Ron and Harry looked at each other and laughed.

"Don't worry, we'll be sure to fulfill your position," Harry said with a grin. Ron laughed.

"C'mon, Harry, we're going to miss the train! See ya, Fred, George," Ron said. Harry waved to the twins and followed Ron onto the train, a huge grin plastered on his face. This year was starting off with a blast and a boom, and Harry wasn't going to let anything ruin that.


End file.

Harry Potter