When Harry Potter got off the Hogwarts Express, the only thing he was expecting was a summer like all the ones before; hot, boring, and labour-intensive at Number Four, Privet Drive.

In fact, this summer was shaping up to be all of those things, with one exception- the Dursleys had no intention of staying in Little Whinging. Uncle Vernon was all blustering and consistently pleased with himself, for Grunnings had decided to give him a promotion. Such a promotion apparently warranted a relocation. Harry privately wondered if Vernon’s boss was just trying to get rid of him by moving the walrus as far away as possible.

It was these circumstances, however, that led to something short of mass confusion at the little cookie-cutter house in Surrey. When Petunia Dursley could deign to stop boasting about her husband’s new status to the neighbours, she was packing away her delicate china and other oddities that a freak like Harry wasn’t good enough to touch. Of course, that didn’t mean Harry didn’t face the brunt of the packing. Oh, no- Harry was charged with almost everything else, particularly Dudley’s clothes and toys. It wouldn’t have been nearly as bad, Harry thought, if Dudley didn’t decide he suddenly needed the things that had already been boxed away.

Harry, of course, had been packed and ready to move as soon as he’d gotten off the Hogwarts Express. Everything he owned, with the exception of Hedwig and his Nimbus 2000, fit easily inside his trunk. That didn’t matter, of course. Harry was being blamed for holding up the move anyway. Uncle Vernon and Dudders obviously couldn’t be bothered to help. Harry was silently grateful that at least his uncle had arranged for movers to pack the boxes and heavy furniture into a lorry and deliver them to the new house. Harry spared a few moments of thought for the new house as he packed away and taped up another box of Dudley’s things. Apparently, it was in a suburb just outside the town his Aunt grew up. A jolt of anticipation went through Harry at that. If his Aunt grew up there, it was reasonable to assume that his mother had grown up there as well. The photo album Hagrid had given Harry had been more than the eleven-year-old had ever dared to hope for. But now that he would soon be living in the same town his mother had, it was enough to make him feel like maybe his parents had been real people after all, and not some legend.

“Boy!”     

Harry’s head snapped up as his uncle bellowed for him. He quickly got up off the floor of Dudley’s room and went down the stairs and into the sitting room. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?”   

Said uncle was already red-faced, but if it was out of frustration or due to the heat, Harry was uncertain. It was possibly both. “Haven’t you finished with Dudley’s room yet?” he asked, squinting his piggy little eyes at Harry like he was a speck of dust on glass.

“Not yet, sir.”

“Well, what’re you waiting for? The movers will be here tomorrow! It won’t do to leave any of Dudley’s things behind!” Vernon exclaimed, wiping sweat from his brow.

Well it’d be a hell of a lot easier if precious Diddykins would let the boxes alone after I taped them up! Harry thought, and tried not to project such thoughts on his face. It was best to keep a calm mask on when dealing with Vernon. Too bad it didn’t always work. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply said, “Yes, Uncle Vernon,” and made to go back upstairs to the boxes.

“Don’t you leave before I dismiss you, boy!” Vernon growled, and heaved himself up from his chair. Behind him, Dudley glanced at his father and cousin before absently going back to his slack-jawed worship of the telly.

“Sorry, Uncle,” Harry said, lowering his voice a tad and hunching his shoulders up a bit in a defensive posture. It was better to be prepared when Uncle Vernon was in one of his moods, especially when they were exacerbated by the summer heat. It was much easier for his uncle to get riled up in the summer months.

“That’s right, boy.” his uncle sniffed, and cuffed him on the head before growling, “now back to work.”

Harry gratefully took that dismissal and trudged back up the stairs as quickly as he dared.

“AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE DONE BY MORNING” Vernon shouted up the stairs behind him. Harry choked out a “yes, sir” as he went back to Dudley’s room. Thankfully, Dudley would go to Pier’s house after lunch and stay the night there with his other friends for one last hurrah before the Dursleys left Little Whinging. Harry thanked his lucky stars (wherever they were) that Petunia had at least allowed the party to happen somewhere besides Number Four. He wondered if even she acknowledged that Dudley and his friends were like a herd of rhinoceros in a china shop. Well, he wouldn’t complain. As long as he was left alone, he’d be perfectly happy to stay upstairs and put away Dudley’s belongings.

As if I’d be able to even touch them in any other situation, Harry thought as his nimble fingers untangled the mass of cables from his cousin’s various game consoles and computer. He briefly thought of turning them on and playing with them while Dudley was at Pier’s house this evening, but decided the risk wasn’t worth it. Besides, he likely wouldn’t get anything done if he did. And it was very important that Harry finish any task Vernon assigned to him. Harry continued to wrestle with the tangled mess as he thought about his friends. They didn’t know about the move yet, and he hadn’t had a chance to tell them. Then again, they didn’t seem to be too inclined to send him any letters first. Harry frowned, thinking, Ron I can understand, but Hermione is much better when it comes to letter-writing. He’d thought that even if Ron was too busy with his brothers, Hermione would have the time to write to Harry even after taking summer assignments into account.

Which led into another topic he’d rather not think about. How was he supposed to get any of his homework done? As soon as Harry stepped over the threshold of Number Four, his uncle had confiscated his trunk and broom and locked them away in his old bedroom underneath the stairs. Luckily, Hedwig had been allowed to stay with Harry in the small second bedroom, but he hadn’t even been allowed to get more clothes from his trunk, and that had been two weeks ago. Dudley’s old hand-me-downs that he was currently wearing were rather dirty and needed a wash now.  But he wasn’t even allowed to stand next to the cupboard door for more than a few seconds without receiving nasty looks, like he could magic his things out just by being near them. The Dursleys probably thought he could do that. Harry hadn’t seen fit to tell them he wasn’t allowed to do magic during the summers, and that was really the only thing that kept his relatives from being too horrible. Just yesterday, he’d scared Dudley by mumbling some nonsense under his breath, and his cousin’s piggish squeals were worth the angry Vernon that followed.

All of that was well and good, of course, but it didn’t solve anything. His trunk (and wand!) were locked away, and his homework with it. Maybe he could get some of it done on the train, and the rest of it finished in snatched pockets of time in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione would disapprove, but Ron would probably be just as desperate to finish his assignments. He and Ron together would get everything done (with Hermione’s grudging help), and if his professors complained about the sloppy job, well, at least he tried. There was certainly no chance of homework happening with the Dursleys around, except for Dudley’s summer reading and subsequent report. Harry always had to do that. At least he had that, so hopefully his brain wouldn’t melt from inactivity, like his Potions Professor told them all would happen over the summer. If anyone’s brain was melting, it was Dudley's, who only tore himself away from the telly to hang out with Piers, bully Harry, or both. Maybe Vernon’s brain had melted, too, and that’s why he was being sent out of the way to a different branch of Grunnings. Harry snickered at the thought before grimacing as he found a moldy clump of food from Dudleys' hidden stash. Apparently, dear Dudders was getting too fat for the Smeltings uniform, and the school nurse had him on a diet. Dudley, true to form, had taken the news rather poorly, and after a massive tantrum that resulted in various broken toys, a promise of new toys, and headaches all around, Petunia took it upon herself to put the entire household on said diet.

Like I need to lose any weight! Harry thought bitterly. His stomach growled in agreement. Quiet, you. Only a few weeks into the summer, and Harry was so starved for intelligent conversation he was talking to his own stomach. Not just for conversation, he was just plain starved! Petunia apparently thought that one meal a day of canned soup was all he needed. That was hardly enough for any boy, let alone one that was forced to share whatever food he could get with his owl. As soon as he got back to Hogwarts, Harry was going to take Hedwig to Hagrid and make sure her sparse feeding hadn’t harmed her. There was a brief pang of regret where Harry wished he had someone who cared enough about him to make sure he was okay after not getting enough food. He certainly wasn’t going to call any attention to himself that way, and if anyone tried to on his behalf he’d make a fuss. But for a few seconds it was nice to imagine what that kind of care felt like.

Harry sniffed and quickly shut down any tears that tried to form. He was not going to cry about his dead parents while he put away his cousin’s riches. He’d grown used to the unfair treatment a long time ago, and he wasn’t a little kid wishing someone would save him anymore. He probably couldn’t even be called a kid now, not after what happened at the end of the school year. Could a little kid face down a deranged professor with Voldemort riding around in his brain? He thought not. Then again, Harry could hardly believe a baby could defeat a grown wizard by himself, but that had happened too.

Downstairs, Harry could hear lots of excited shouting. It sounded like Piers and company were there to whisk his cousin away to do whatever they did at sleepovers. The heavy thuds akin to the stampeding of baby elephants on the stairs were the only warning Harry had before Dudley burst in with his pack of equally obnoxious friends behind him.

“Hey, Potty!” Dudley sneered as his friends snickered behind him. Harry thought it looked like his cousin was in pain, or perhaps constipated. Dudders had nothing on Malfoy or Snape’s sneering capabilities. Immune to his cousin’s attempts at intimidation, Harry simply acknowledged him with “Diddykins.”

“Don’t call me that, Potty!” his cousin whined, his chins jiggling with indignation.

“Sure thing, Big D.” That was a nickname Dudley had picked up at school, apparently. It was certainly apt, if not unimaginative. Dudley’s face got even redder than it already was, and he lumbered over to where Harry was kneeling next to a half-full box. “J-just because you’ve got some big friends now d-doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that, freak!” Dudley spluttered, obviously at war with his fear of magic and his desire to look cool in front of his friends.

Piers decided to put his dumb opinion in, too. “Hey Big D, I’ve got an idea of what we can do before you leave” his rat face was calculating as he studied Harry, “it’s been an awfully long time since we went Harry Hunting.”

Dread went through Harry like someone had poured a bucket of cold-but-not-quite-set gelatin over him. “Good idea, Piers!” Dudley guffawed with his friends, and Harry only had a second before they turned to him with hungry looks on their faces. Well, Harry thought glumly, wherever those lucky stars are, they’re absolutely rubbish. That was the only thing he had time to think before the group of boys started in on him. With movement and speed that came from years of practice as well as his Seeker reflexes, Harry ducked swinging arms and sweaty bodies and ran from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. Distantly, Harry heard his uncle yell out “BOY!” over the clamor behind him. Too late to think about it now. Now he just had to run, and hope that Dudley wasn’t the only one out of shape.

 Harry led them all on a spectacular chase, but unfortunately Big D and his ‘gang’ had him cornered for the final time a few hours later. After the usual ‘beat up Harry’ session, Dudley and his goons left him curled in on himself in the park a few blocks from Privet Drive.

Well, Harry thought, it could have been worse. Defeating mountain trolls and Voldemort at 11 years old apparently skewed your perceptions a bit. The beating had hurt, but in the end all he had were some bruises. And really, what was the difference between Dudley and a mountain troll, anyway?

The troll was probably smarter, Harry thought before erupting into a tired fit of giggles.

Harry continued to lie on the ground, watching as the clouds rolled by and the sun made it’s slow descent in the sky. I should probably get back now, Harry thought, I bet Vernon’s absolutely livid. That didn’t really inspire any movements to pick himself up. He had hell to pay anyways; did it really matter if Harry stayed at the small deserted playground for a while longer? Knowing his Aunt and Uncle, the answer was probably yes. Groaning, the small boy picked himself up off the ground, dusting himself off (like it mattered, with the state of his clothes already), and testing a slightly twisted ankle. He’d certainly had worse. Better to walk back to the Dursleys than crawl. So walk back he did, preparing himself for the worst and counting the days before he could go back to the only place he had ever felt at home.

Just as he thought, Vernon was waiting for him when he went through the front door.

“I’VE NEVER SEEN SUCH DEPLORABLE BEHAVIOR, BOY. SHIRKING YOUR CHORES, RUNNING AROUND LIKE- LIKE SOME SORT OF ANIMAL- “

Harry didn’t think it wise to point out that if anyone was behaving like animals, it was Dudley and his friends.

“- YOUR AUNT AND I HAD THE HEART TO TAKE YOU IN, TO CLOTHE YOU AND FEED YOU AND KEEP A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD AND THIS IS THE THANKS WE GET-”

Yes, a fine job you did with that, Harry thought.

“- AFTER ALL WE’VE DONE FOR YOU, AFTER ALL THE HOURS I’VE PUT IN AT THE OFFICE TO KEEP THIS FAMILY AFLOAT, WE FINALLY HAVE THIS NEW OPPORTUNITY AND YOU’RE JUST BOUND AND DETERMINED TO RUIN IT-”

Oh yes, Harry thought, because it’s my fault I got chased out and the packing isn’t done yet.

“- AND ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, BOY?!”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied, keeping his tone and expression carefully neutral. His uncle, purple-faced and sweating, twitched his mustache while trying to find anything wrong with that statement.

“Hrrumph,” Vernon finally declared, “this is the last I want to see of you before tomorrow morning, boy. Get up to Dudley’s room and finish up. NOW!” Harry scurried away, relieved to get off so easily. “AND NO FOOD TONIGHT OR TOMORROW, YOU HEAR?”

Harry’s heart sank. There went his chance of feeding himself and Hedwig. He poked his head into the second bedroom to say hi to her before he resumed his chore.

“Sorry about that, Hedwig,” he stage-whispered to her, “Hopefully I can let you out tomorrow for the move, and you can hunt then.” Hedwig hooted softly in reply, making Harry smile slightly, which didn’t fade until he was rooting around in his cousin’s frankly disgusting closet. Hedwig was his first and best friend (excluding Hagrid), and he didn’t know how he ever got on without her.

So Harry worked, alone save for the occasional checking in from his aunt. She never said anything, apparently either finding his progress adequate, or she was so disgusted she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. It wasn’t until three in the morning that Harry finally fell onto the small cot in the smallest bedroom. He was tired and sore from both Harry Hunting and packing Dudley’s room. Tomorrow was the long-awaited move, and he’d finally be free of Number Four. Too bad the new house was unlikely to be any better for him, and doubly so that he couldn’t simply leave his relatives behind.

“G’night, Hedwig,” Harry yawned. Her hoot and feather ruffle was the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

 “BOY! GET UP!”

Harry started awake at the sound of his Aunt screeching at him and banging on the bedroom door. “Coming, Aunt Petunia!” He called back, before looking at the clock. 6 A.M. Wonderful. After getting out of bed and making a quick dash to the loo, Harry was in the kitchen with Petunia with just enough time to finish frying the bacon for Vernon. Dudley would be retrieved Piers’ house when they all left Privet Drive for good. Harry had no intentions of ever returning, though he couldn’t speak for the rest of his family.

After his Aunt and Uncle had eaten, and the breakfast things had been put away, it was a mad scramble to get the last remaining possessions stowed away for moving. The movers that Vernon hired arrived at quarter to seven, and they assisted with the furniture and boxes with Petunia fretting and Vernon grumbling all the while. Harry mostly did his best to stay out of the way.

Finally, after a few hours and minor mishaps, the contents of Number Four, Privet Drive were in the mover’s lorry and on their way to the new house. After making one last sweep through the house, Harry stopped at the cupboard under the stairs. It felt like years since the cramped space was his bedroom, when in reality it had only been one. He wasn’t sure if he was sad to leave it behind or not. On the one hand, shoving a child into a cupboard whenever you didn’t want to look at him was rather mean. On the other, this small space was his only escape from his relatives before his Hogwarts letter came. The words “Harry’s Room” were still on one of the walls in green crayon from when Harry had scrawled them there when he was in primary school.

I wonder if they’ll bother to give me a room at the new house, Harry thought. Did Dumbledore have any knowledge of the move? Could his Hogwarts letter find him there? Considering all the trouble Uncle Vernon went to last year to escape Hogwarts letters, I don’t think that will be much of a problem.

At last, it was time to leave. Harry set Hedwig free before stowing her cage into the boot with his trunk, broom, and a few suitcases. He clambered into the backseat of the car while his Aunt and Uncle took a picture of their old home. Aunt Petunia was looking a bit weepy and was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while Vernon apparently tried to comfort her. Gross. Harry was glad he couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was probably something to do with the fact that Number Four had been the first house his Aunt and Uncle bought together after they got married.

After the sentimentalities were taken care of, his Aunt and Uncle got in the car and drove to Piers’ house to pick up their son. They had to wait at least 15 minutes in the driveway for Dudley to appear, but eventually he lumbered out and settled his girth in the seat next to Harry. As they set off, Harry wondered where they were actually going. All he’d heard about the new house was that is was their new dwelling, it was a house, and that it was where his mum lived growing up. Aunt Petunia never talked about her sister or even of her own childhood, so Harry was still vague about the actual location. All she’d said was her parents were dead and that she inherited their house.

The drive was shaping up the be a long and boring one. The only thing Harry had to do to pass the time was look out the window, which was boring save for the few times Hedwig made an appearance. At least there was someone who liked him on this trip. He almost wished she was in the car with him, but Harry knew she needed the exercise after being cooped up in a cage for so long. Even if she hadn’t been forced to stay in her cage, she wouldn’t have been doing much delivering anyway since Harry’s friends had apparently abandoned him. What happened to the easy friendship the three of them had formed after the troll, after the quest for the Philosopher’s Stone? Before Hogwarts, Harry wasn’t allowed to have friends (courtesy of Dudley and his penchant for bullying anyone who tried). So while friendship was a rather new thing for him, he was sure that summer communication was a pretty important part. After all, his friends had promised.

Next to him, Dudley pulled out his Gameboy and berated his Pokemon when they fainted in battle. Up front, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia talked together about various boring adult things while the radio played in the background. Harry resigned himself to a lonely ride as he watched the English countryside speed past. Judging by the occasional roadside sign, they were steadily driving north.

For a short while, he was even able to doze. When he woke up, the sun was higher in the sky and Uncle Vernon was taking the car to a petrol station. Petunia and Dudley both went inside the attached shop for what Harry assumed to be a trip to the loo and a snack stop. Sure enough, Dudley returned with an armful of crisps and sweets, which he crammed into his mouth with surprising speed. After Vernon paid for the petrol, they were on their way again. This time, Harry stayed awake, trying his best to ignore the nauseating smacking sounds of his cousin.

At long last, Vernon guided the car off the motorway and into a town. Harry wondered at the familiarity of the surroundings before he realized that it was the same town they stayed in when running from his Hogwarts letters the year before. Cokeworth, he thought. To think Harry had been so near to his mother’s childhood home and he hadn’t even known it! He certainly hoped that staying in this town was a better experience than it was last time, though he wouldn’t bet on it. If anything, this “new life” Petunia kept blathering on about would be a lot like the one he had on Privet Drive. His Aunt would continue to stick her nose in the latest gossip and parade her immaculate house, garden, and family for all to see. Vernon’s life would probably continue as usual, but with a bigger paycheck at the end of the day. As for Dudley, it didn’t matter where he was. As long as Harry was around, Dudley would have someone to bully and beat up. Last of all, Harry would continue doing the work in the garden, and the chores, and the cooking, and never hear a word of praise or thanks for it. In essence, all their lives were to stay exactly the same but for the change of living space. Come to think of it,  Harry’s new life started last year, after finding out he was a wizard and attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A simple move certainly paled in comparison to an entire world of magic revealing itself to you.

After perhaps a half hour more, they finally arrived at the new house. The movers were there already, the lorry parked right outside on the kerb. Harry could spot Hedwig in a sturdy oak tree, resting on a branch next to a second story window. He wondered how she knew where the new house was before even he did. Harry made a mental note to ask Hagrid about post owls when term started in September. If anyone could tell him about magical creatures, it was his giant, gentle friend.

The family clambered out of the car, stretching stiff muscles and aching backs.

Well, Harry thought, here we are.