BAM...BAM

"WAKE UP!"

Harry woke in a start at the thumps on the door and leaped to his feet. Uncle Vernon seemed to be in an even worse mood than usual...Of course, Vernon was not one of those people who woke up singing in the morning, but since the begining of the summer, his mood had been literally murderous. Well, to look on the bright side of things, he seemed to have decided to ignore Harry most of the time.

The problem was the rest of the time.

The chores did not really bother Harry. On the contrary. As long as he was busy cleaning, cooking or gardening, he could at least push the thoughts of Voldemort and Bellatrix, and Sirius falling throught the veil, to the back of his mind. Sometimes, when he was exhausted enough, he could even sleep without dreaming for a while, for which he was deeply grateful.

However, Harry wasn't the only one here who had problems. If Uncle Vernon remained totally ignorant of the war and of the threat Voldemort represented, his own Muggle problems were enough to make him more quick tempered than ever; the impending closure of the factory, Dudley's bad grades, Marge's car accident... and his own rheumatism which was now almost as bad as his high cholesterol rate.

All those calamities could only have one cause...Potter. The damn kid who had been foisted upon them at the age of one, with his abnormality, his arrogance, his...

Vernon saw red. It was the brat's fault; this little ungrateful whelp, who had been ruining their lives since the day he arrived !

So Vernon decided to do his best to ignore him this summer; and to have him spend the hols in his rooms, as if that would even help... However, his godfather was dead, and the brat screamed every night, waking them with a start...

To hell with those freaks who'd threatened him at the station; the kid needed discipline, and he was going to take care of that; Nobody could blame him for keeping the peace in his own home!

Shaking the boy a bit seemed to help. A few slaps across the face to calm his hysteria had considerably lessened his own stress, and it obviously did not harmed the boy much. In fact, he seemed to take the thrashings with a measure of resignation, as if he knew he deserved it... Finally. Vernon might have found the right way to deal with that living picture of arrogance. He'd always known that a bit of 'well-applied' discipline could only be good for children... and their guardians' nerves.

The door slammed open and Vernon came into the small room. Harry was nervously standing on his bed, waiting for what would come next.

"Boy! You don't move. You don't breathe. You don't touch anything. We are going to the hospital to see Marge. We will be back this evening. DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE THIS ROOM!" he barked

Relieved, Harry relaxed and nodded.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon hesitated for a moment. Leaving the brat a whole day alone in the house...Well, he had no choice. Figg was ill, Marge was in a sorry state at the hospital... Out of the question to leave Dudley with the little freak, and Marge was asking for him anyway. With a last threatening glance, Vernon shut the door of the room and started fastening the locks. The boy wouldn't wander far with those on anyway...

Harry could scarcely believe his luck. A whole day alone, it was a real birthday present! Sure, he wouldn't be able to sneak food today, but he was counting on Hedwig to bring him his usual birthday cakes that Mrs Weasley, Hagrid and Hermione never failed to send him.

Of course, there would be nothing from Sirius this year... he felt the familiar knot in his stomach; One more milestone that would go by without Sirius...

Harry stiffened. Outside, car doors slammed shute and a motor started up. A moment later, the car left the alley and the boy relaxed. He was alone for the day, free to do whatever he wanted! Or rather, he thought, not to do anything at all.

Sighing, he lay on his bed. He'd had a strange dream last night, after he'd fallen back to sleep. He couldn't remember the details, but it'd seemed that Sirius was in it, as well as his father and mother, wishing him a happy birthday. Strangely enough, the dream hadn't left the same bitter taste it usually had whenever he dreamed about them. They hadn't blamed him for anything this time... he had felt at peace, loved, and he'd experienced a warm sensation suffusing his skin...

Yes, that had been a strange dream. Too bad Vernon had woken him up just to tell him not to leave.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to recapture the warm sensation, to remember the details, but the dream was fast escaping him. He was just starting to fall asleep when a familiar noise woke him up; a beak was angrily knocking on the glass!

Harry opened his eyes and rushed to open the window: a white owl hurtled into the room in a mess of feathers, furiously angry that she'd had to wait.

"Sorry, Hedwig, I should have left the window open!" the boy apologized.

The owl let out an angry cry in agreement, but then perched on his shoulder at once, nipping Harry's finger affectionately, causing Harry to smile.

"Thanks, Hedwig. I missed you too."

He stroked the snowy head, and noticed a small package tied to her leg. Smiling, he untied the package and put it on his bed before lifting Hedwig into her cage. He handed her a biscuit that she eagerly ate, proud of her accomplished mission, she settled on her perch for a nap.

Harry smiled at the sight; Hedwig was not only his only link to the wizarding world during hols, but also a very endearing companion! He suddenly felt a bit less depressed, and started to open what must have been his first birthday present.

A letter slipped from the brown paper: neat handwriting with straight lines... it had to be Hermione!

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer is going well with your family, and that you are not thining about what happened at the Ministry too much.

I have just arrived at the Burrow, after a month spent in southern France with my parents: it is a very fascinating place, as much historically as magically; the protection spells on those old castles are incredible! I learned a lot about local traditions, and I met some Beauxbatons students (not Fleur though-)

I am affraid I am a bit behind with my sixth year readings, but I am just so nervous waiting for the OWL results! They should not be long now.

The bracelet (in the package) comes from a small shop in a village I visited this summer: it is an Portable Aid. The shopkeeper, a French wizard, he told me it was used in the last Muggle wars by wizards: when the person wearing it is seriously wounded, the bracelet will lead him to the nearest person capable of healing him while slightly levitating them. I thought you would be the one for whom it would be the most useful!

I hope you are not having any problems this summer, and that you are having a nice birthday anyway. Ron and I cannot wait to see you, Mrs Weasley asked Dumbledore to get you to the Burrow as quickly as possible; Ginny is very impatient too and the twins are dying to show you their latest invention (Mrs Weasley threatened to disown them if they use them at the Burrow!)

Take care!

Happy Birthday!

Hermione

Harry smiled as he put letter back on the bed. Hermione was certainly not one to spend her summer getting a tan!

He curiously opened the package, and found a little silver, braided bracelet, which slid easily agains his fingers. Harry examined it carefully: there was nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary jewell, but trust Hermione to know what she was talking about! A warmth of well-being filled him as he put the bracelet on his wrist: Sirius and his parents were not there anymore to look after him, but his friends never lowered their guards...

The bracelet stretched and naturally adjusted around his wrist. Harry did not have time to put Hermione's letter away: a tornado of feathers came crashing into his kness, breathless as it collapsed under the weight of a large package.

Harry quickly set Errol free and gave him some water; Errol was far too old for long hauls!

Grateful, the owl sank into the water bowl and nearly drowned. Harry held him, patting his wings, under the outraged stare of Hedwig.

When he was sure the bird could stand on the perch by himself, Harry hurried to open the package that had nearly caused the owl to collapse.

He smiled at the sight of the enormous cake that Mrs Weasley, true to tradition, had baked him. He gratefully helped himself to a large piece of cake, his starved, empty stomach was growling with hunger!

He opened the envelope that was stuck on the side of the box:

My Dear Harry,

Professor Dumbledore promised me that he would bring you to the Burrow himself as soon as the Order is less busy, which should not be too long. We are all impatient to have you here, I hope that everything is going well for you with your family. Even if it is not an enjoyable time, please remember that you are safe there, and do not wander out of the house!

See you soon, Happy Birthday!

Molly Weasley

Harry was feeling better by the minute; he was sure to be at the Burrow soon, and the summer holidays would finally begin!

Before he could help himself to a second helping of cake, a crashing noise at the window made him jump to his feet: he turned just in time to see three heavily laden owls collide and then struggle to enter through windowsill.

Harry could not help laughing when the smallest of the three, Pig, only slightly bigger than a baby chick, let out a shrill cry, stuck as it was between Hagrid and the twins' larger owls.

He quickly took him in his hand to comfort him, but it only took a minute for the tiny owl to gather himself and start cheeping with all his breath, at the two birds that had knocked him over!

Harry thanked Merlin that the Dursleys had decided to leave for the day: not only had the five owls transformed his room into an owler, but they also seemed to have decided to make as much noise as possible to celebrate his birthday! He tried to calm down the loudest one, Pig, by untying his package and rewarding him. He quickly opened the letter that had come from Ron's, of course:

Harry,

What are you waiting for? Hermione is already here and Fred and George have brought all sorts of incredible stuff! Are the Muggles holding you prisoner? If that's the problem, we will come for you! We already know the way!

Have a look in the box: I know it's not as great as Sirius's mirror, but I think we can find a way to use it!

Get here soon !!!

Ron

Curious, Harry hurriedly opened the package. A miniature broom slipped out and flew to alight atop his hand. When he closed his fingers aound it, a long roll of parchment unrolled from the stick:

"Note-broom: make your messages fly! Rewritable up to 10 000 times per roller with a standard quill! Forbidden in official examinations!"

"No joke!" Harry thought, laughing at the prospect. The idea of going back to Hogwarts had never filled him with such anticipation!

The second was a heavy package, held out by an odd-looking owl; was filled with homemade cakes from Hagrid. The third revealed a large sampling of Weasley Twins products, with the promise to show him more as soon as he got to the Burrow!

Harry sighed; he hadn't had any news from Dumbledore all summer. When was he intending to come and collect him?

However, there was no reason to be discouraged: the news was good, and he would more than likely be at the Burrow before the end of the week.

The day passed quickly, writing thank you letters and playing with the miniature broom. The broom was fast and for lack of a real one, he happily fashioned a makeshift Snitch!

Harry was feeling almost light-hearted when he heard the car park in the alleyway again. The doors were slammed loudly, and the boy felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Overcome by a sudden, bad premonition, he opened Hedwig's cage.

"Go!" he whispered. "Go wait for me at the Burrow; it is not worth you staying here. I won't be long."

The owl worriedly bit at his fingers. He stroked her head to reassure her, and then opened the window once again. With a regretful look, Hedwig took flight. Harry watched as she disappeared, as footsteps were echoing on the staircase. He could tell by his weight that it was Uncle Vernon, but it was not his usual way of walking...

As the locks opened one by one, Harry felt the lump in his throat.

The door opened and shut to admit by Uncle Vernon.

Harry had always feared his uncle, most especially when he was cross. However, Vernon's face at this moment was more than frightening... the boy could feel a wave of hatred fill the room. Vernon's face was beet red and splotchy: the angle of his jaw and the circles around his eyes were white, while purple spots were splattered over his face. He was nearly mute from pure rage.

"She's dead," he managed to say.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Harry stammered. It took him a few seconds to realize who had died: Marge. Marge was dead. So it'd turned out that she was not as indestructible as he'd always thought.

"Sorry!" Vernon finally shouted, "You should be! It's all your fault! Your bloody fault!"

Harry was speechless. He did not know the details about Marge's accident, but he was quite sure that he was in no way implicated!

"You, your abnormality... your fault... always...You bring destruction and death wherever you go!"

Harry wavered on his feet. The sight of Sirius falling through the veil hit him full force.

"Never... we should never have taken you in. Thrown you in the street, that would have been reasonable... how many times I wanted to... but no!" Vernon still couldn't speak, wild with anger.

"Destruction... death... you should have been the one to die! Ungrateful, horrible little freak! Rotten to the core, you are! Evil as can be... worse than a bug, should have crushed you long ago!"

Stunned, Harry was fighting for breath. His vision suddenly went blurry as he watched uncomprehendingly as Vernon took off his belt and fixed him with a nasty look.

"You killed her. You killed them all... you parents...you bring bad luck! You are worthless; you don't deserve the air you're breathing! You ruin everything! You kill everything!"

The belt whistled in the air before landing on Harry's chest with the full force of an enraged Vernon. The words were still echoing in his head, and he did not register the pain of the first blow until the second one hit him full in the face. Then the third. Finally coming out of his trance, Harry lifted an arm to protect himself; his glasses had fallen off and he could not follow Vernon's words and gestures at the same time.

Something had once again just unravled in his mind...

"Killed! How many more? My family who took you in! You little monster, what else are you going to do to us? You're nothing but a curse!"

And the words sounded so right. And the blows felt so right.

And so, he did not try to resist anymore, just tried to accept the punishment, trying not cry. Maybe somehow it would be enough to pay for what he'd done? Enough to be forgiven? No, that was impossible...

Vernon's continued, unabated. He was right, and the little freak knew it... kneeling in front of him, he was waiting for the blows, and he would get them.

After a long time, when he did not have any strength left, he stopped to look down at the crouching figure as it moaned and bled at his feet. lying at his feet. He kicked him away disgustedly one last time, then wiped the sweat from his face, trying to calm himself enough to speak.

"Tomorrow... tomorrow, you ungrateful freak, you will be gone! Pack your things. Tell your friends to come get you. Either they do, or you go and sleep on the streets, I don't give a damn. You do not live here anymore. Don't you ever dare come near my family again. Never."

After spitting on the boy, the man turned on his heels and left the room, this time without doing the locks.

It was almost nighttime outside, an icy wind swept alongs the street... two silent, black silhouettes appeared and stepped closer to the. Seeming both impatient and triumphant, they stopped a few feet away from the garden.

In the smallest room of number 4, Privet Drive, Harry Potter was lying in a blessed unconsciousness... black, red... but he had to leave. Before he caused something bad to happen again. A death. Many deaths. He wanted to stand up, but could not move, nor feel his body... He had to go, though. Quickly. He felt the bracelet warming on his wrist, as if to wake him up gently. Yes, he had to follow the bracelet, but first... there was something he had to do.

But what?

The lyrics of a lullaby drifted back to him in the haze of his memory.

When the night comes... a star...

An instant later, he opened his eyes. It was dark, but he could see if it were daylighty. He got up, surprised and happy to find that he could stand on his legs. His four legs. His whole body was aching, but... but? He was missing something. What was he doing here? He had to go, but why?

Something soft and comforting was shining around his neck, and he suddenly felt lighter. He knew where to go... or at least, somebody knew it for him.

A moment later, a skinny black cat threaded itself between the bars of the window of the small room et number 4, Privet Drive, jumped into the garden then crept away under the freshly painted fence.

At precisely the same moment, two Death Eaters stepped through the front door, as furtively and gracefully as the cat had sneaked out of the house.