Harry sat down with a huff in the dark room. His trunk to the side, Hedwig's cage on top; he leaned back on the bed closing his eyes. This past summer had been the worst out of all the years at the Dursleys'. As soon as he got off the train, one look at his Uncle, and Harry could tell the rest of the summer was going to be utter hell. The drive back to Number 4 Privet Drive had been quiet. It was as if someone dies, which really didn't help Harry since his thoughts were still too raw, too painful.

Cedric's face flashed before his eyes. Shock forever frozen in time as the dreadful green light of the killing curse stole his life force. Harry shook his head of the memories. Now was not the time. Later, when he was alone, away from any eyes and ears, he would let himself grieve.

Entering the house, Harry headed upstairs to his borrowed bedroom with his trunk. He was able to move quickly before his Uncle could say anything. Setting his trunk down, he glanced around the room. It was just the way he left it save for all the dust. Opening the window for some fresh air, Harry quickly dusted and cleaned the room. Just as he was about to sit down on the bed...

"BOY!!" bellowed Uncle Vernon "GET DOWN HERE NOW!!"

Sighing, Harry made his way downstairs. As soon as he reached the living room, he was thrust with a list of his chores. And so, the cycle and routine he knew for years began. He mowed the lawn, he cleaned the garage, watered the flowers and so on. Day in, day out, chores, chores, chores. Morning to night. With meagre food, Harry's mood soon became more depressing than before along with his anger. He was locked in his room when he wasn't doing chores for the Dursley's. He only was able to go out by himself when his Aunt and Uncle wanted him out of the house so they wouldn't deal with him. The only bright spot on the horizon seemed to be hearing from Ron and Hermione, his best friends.

That soon turned to disappointment when Harry didn't hear anything remotely useful from them within the first week. Anger soon followed as the third and fourth week went by. No owls from Ron, Hermione, Sirius or Dumbledore on any news. Just polite nothings. When the chance presented itself, Harry eavesdropped on the evening news hoping to gain some information, any strange unexplained event that couldn't be explained, that Voldemort may have had a hand in.

That soon was put to a stop when his Uncle caught him listening to the news. It hurt to walk for a good two weeks. The bruises made him wince when he moved doing whatever chores the Dursleys threw at him while Vernon went to work and Petunia and Dudley went out. Newspapers reported nothing out of the ordinary and the Daily Prophet reported no signs of attacks or mysterious disappearances. The Prophet was however making Harry's testimony of Voldemort's return into a circus show. The first time Harry noticed that was when he was as usual, looking for any headlines that stood out. One in particular caught his eye. It was a short article from the looks of it.

FALSE ALARM AT THE MEETING OF SAFETY BOARD

The annual meeting of the Department of Safety and Regulation was held yesterday evening to discuss the new regulations to be instated to control the imports and exports as well as other objects that may be harmful with the cooperation of the Department of Misuse of Muggle and Magical Objects. During the course of the meeting, one member suddenly seized up. Other members at the meeting tried to help one thumping on the victim's back. Said Department member who shall remain unnamed had apparently choked on a bite of Turkish delight and was not cursed as originally thought by a cursed tray. They made a big deal of this as much as Harry Potter does about the supposed return of You-Know-Who. This reporter hopes that there aren't anymore political dramas for big shots hoping for promotions.

Sally Giberick

Daily Prophet Reporter

Weekly News Column

 Harry blinked and read the article again. And again. Looking over the article, Harry could see nothing that even remotely connected to him. Sure he knew Ron's dad worked in the Department of Misuse of Magical Objects but he didn't think it was a deliberate jab. No, what bothered him was how his name was just put there in the middle of the article, like a joke. What disturbed him most was it specifically made a mockery of him telling people Voldemort was back.

Shifting through the paper with a foreboding feeling in his gut, Harry soon came across similar articles, some inconsequential, others more mainstream. Each had in some way or another mentioned his name or his testimony and made it a stand-in joke. Standing up, Harry moved across the room to his desk where he had placed the rest of the old newspaper and searched through all of them. By the end of his search, Harry found that since the beginning of the summer five weeks ago, the Daily Prophet had mentioned him in a total of two hundred and fifty-five irrelevant articles all which in one way or another discredited him. Harry's mind was reeling as he tried to process this knowledge.

‘They're making a joke out of it.' Harry thought. It would answer some questions that had been on the forefront of his mind. By making a mockery of Voldemort's return, Harry's word of his return in particular, the general public was unbelieving of it. ‘Just as Fudge was when he was told.' Harry thought grimly.

Abruptly, Harry stood up. He needed to get out. He headed out the door by passing his Aunt and Uncle and headed for the park. The weather was gloomy and storm clouds were gathering. Harry occupied an empty swing pushing himself back and forth, losing himself in the rhythm and his thoughts. Voices woke him out of his stupor. Looking up, Harry saw Dudley and his gang strutting down the road. ‘Great, just my luck' Harry thought bitterly.

Dudley and his friends still hadn't noticed Harry. Quietly as possible and as slowly as he was able, Harry slipped from the swings and headed around the other end of the park. He snuck around the bend, taking a short cut and began the trek back home. A slight breeze gently drifted down making his now shoulder length hair flutter. Originally Harry had no intention of keeping his hair long. He changed his mind when the mess he called hair actually began to tame and not look like the usual messy head of a rat's nest. Another reason Harry decided to grow out his hair was because it really got under the Dursley's skin.

If he were to be honest with himself deep down, Harry grew his hair because he wanted people to see him. Not James, his father but Harry, the son, his own person. Of course he would never admit that out loud but the length grew on him. He planned to actually keep it even when school started again.

Turning on Magnolia Crescent, Harry headed down the street passing the alley way when he felt it. The chill from the sudden drop in temperatures. Harry froze. He knew this chill. The icy cold feeling of despair. Dementors. In Little Whinging. Harry took out his wand, always having it close by since the Triwizard Tournament.

"What are you doing?" a whiny voice asked from behind him.

Harry spun, wand outstretched facing Dudley. His friends weren't around which was good considering he would have been hard put to explain a wand.

Dudley piggy eyes narrowed at the sight of Harry's wand even though he paled a bit.

"You're not supposed to show that around Potter." Dudley gloated while still looking around to see no one saw. "Put it away." He hissed.

As soon as the words escaped him, the air became colder than before. Dudley seemed to feel it to.

"I'm telling Dad." Dudley whined, while his voice started to shake. "I'll tell him you did the M word." His voice shook as Dudley wasn't able to keep his fear and uncertainty at bay.

Before Harry could reply, he saw them.

Three Dementors were making their way to them from across the alleyway, heading straight for them.

"We need to go. NOW!" Harry yelled and without waiting for an answer, grabbed Dudley by the arm and ran. They were almost at the end of the street when Dudley let go of Harry and ran the opposite direction, fear clouding his judgment.

"NO DUDLEY, YOU'RE HEADING RIGHT FOR THEM!" Harry shouted.

Harry ran after him. He wouldn't be able to make it. Dudley was too far away. He did the only thing he could do.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Harry lay on his bed, three days later still trying to wrap his mind around everything that happened. After casting the Patronus Charm, he was able to get Dudley away and drive the Dementors off. But not before Mrs. Figg came on the scene telling him to keep his wand out and escorting them back to Privet Drive. It was still shocking to learn that one of his neighbours, his babysitter when he was little was a squib. That she was suppose to keep an eye over him was more shocking yet at the same time, Harry couldn't help but feel angry that there was someone close by that knew what was going on in the Wizarding world but still kept him in the dark, knew Dumbledore no less.

Arriving back at Number 4 had not been pleasant. His Aunt and Uncle had been more than a little upset. The owls from the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, and Sirius had not helped. The first letters he receives from his family and friends and all they tell him is not to move. No explanations on what was going on, simply stay put. His Uncle would have thrown him out if it hadn't been for his Aunt saying he had to stay after the mysterious howler. Since that night, Harry had been confined to his room. The letters from the Ministry about the hearing worried him while the letters from his friends and Godfather infuriated him as they wouldn't explain what was going on.

In an attempt to distract himself, Harry tried being productive and managed to complete his summer assignments. Unfortunately that only lasted the first two days. Having a lot of time on his hands from the lack of sleep due to nightmares, Harry was able to get his readings and assignments done completely.

That still left him with too much time doing nothing. Doing nothing meant having time to think which led to brooding which led to worry about everything. Voldemort. School. Hearing.

Getting up from the bed, Harry rummaged through the closet trying to find something to occupy his time. Hedwig was out hunting so he couldn't even talk to her. Sorting through the closet, Harry came across an art kit. He pondered for a minute before he remembered. This had been a recent gift to Dudley for his birthday. Not that Dudley was artistic, he didn't have a creative bone in his body unless you counted tormenting and bullying. As soon as the gift giver left, a college of Uncle Vernon, Dudley chucked the gift in Harry's room without a second thought.

It was in fairly good condition, Harry thought examining it. There didn't seem to be any major dents. Opening it, Harry gasped in awe. The art kit box contained everything you could imagine. The box had four levels when opened initially. Each layer contained every color imaginable. One layer held color tubes of oil paint, the second acrylic paint, and the third water colors. The fourth row contained coloured charcoal sticks and pastels. On a closer look, each level was cleanly divided in the middle. Shifting each layer to the side showed another layer of supplies underneath. It contained color pencils, erasers, pencils coloured inks and primers and paint thinners. Beneath the last layer was a drawer. Opening that as well, Harry was greeted with brushes of all shapes and sizes. Small detail brushes to calligraphy brushes to water color brushes and oil paint brushes. Palette and knives included. There was a book included on the different styles of brush techniques and strokes. Looking back at the closet, Harry spotted two thick sketchbooks that came with the kit which included all kinds of paper in one and a plain black bound sketchbook in the other.

Harry had always enjoyed art as a child. It was one of the few things that brought him joy while growing up. He hadn't done much art since starting Hogwarts but it was something he was quite good at. Deciding that Dudley would never use it and wouldn't even miss it, Harry decided to keep the kit for himself. With that decision, he gathered the kit and books and headed towards the desk. Hedwig had returned while he was looking at the art kit. Harry smiled as she greeted him, stroking his fingers on her soft feathers.

"Could I draw you Hedwig?" he asked softly. She hooted an affirmative and flew to perch on top of her cage, chest proudly puffed out, and the light from the afternoon sun glistening on her snowy feathers making them look like diamonds. Picking the best angle and using a standard black charcoal medium, Harry began. He began with slow soft strokes. Then becoming more confident, deft sure strokes followed, softly smudging here and there. After two hours, Harry completed his sketch and rewarded Hedwig with some owl treats. She nipped his fingers in affectionate manner before flying to perch on his shoulder and looking down at her wizard's work.

For a first sketch after a four years hiatus, it wasn't bad, Harry surmised. The proportions were quite accurate though he thought he might have made the eyes a little too wide. The shading was quite balanced though he had a little trouble with the lighting for some of the brighter regions on Hedwig's wings. Hedwig though seemed to be quite pleased seeing as she nipped his ear and hooted at him in an affectionate manner. Harry laughed at her enthusiasm. It had been a while since he felt this happy.

It was then he heard a creak. Instantly alert, Harry drew his wand to his hand, straining to hear. Hedwig sensing his tension remained quiet and flew to the desk, seeming to understand something was going on that required silence.

Slowly, Harry got up from the desk and made his way to the door. Pressing his ear to the door, Harry listened. The pipes were gurgling while the house seemed quiet. The Dursleys were out so whatever he heard couldn't be them. ‘Burglars' he thought and pressed his ear harder against the door, listening for anything. He tightened his grip on his wand.

CRASH!

"Oww, stupid blasted table!" a high pitched voice groused

"Quiet, you'll wake the whole neighbourhood up." A gruff, harsh voice replied in annoyance

"There's nobody here. They're all gone out, remember?" the same voice, a female replied.

"Enough. Harry's upstairs." A third voice, a very familiar voice entered the fray. "Let's go get him and be on our way. We can't linger too long."

Harry reeled back from the door. He recognized that voice. But he hadn't heard it since his third year. The sounds of the door unlocking tightened Harry's grip on his wand. The door creaked open but no one entered. Cautiously, he crept towards the door; wand raised and slowly nudged it open. There outside his door were about five different wizards, one violet haired witch who had her wand held up giving a light source to the dark corridor. At the very front were two people he recognized, both having been his Professors once upon a time. Alastor Moody the real one it seemed and Remus Lupin, his third year Defense Professor.

"Put your wand down, boy. You'll poke someone's eye out." The gruff voice, now belonging to Moody spoke up.

"You just broke into my Uncle's house and I'm supposed to disarm myself?" Harry spoke with a mixture of irritation and incredulity. He blamed his Gryffindor tendencies for speaking without thinking. NO way was he going to disarm himself. He just spent the last year being taught by an imposter. He wasn't going to take any chances.

"Ohh, he's just as cute as I thought he'd be. Nice look with the hair. Wotcher Harry!" the violet haired witch said jovially.

"Humph. Looks like the boy's alert. Nice to know someone's not woolgathering. Can you be sure it's him Lupin?" Moody questioned, eyeing Harry with a look of approval and if Harry was reading his eyes right, respect.

"What form does your Patronus take Harry?" Remus questioned

"A Stag."

"It's him Mad-Eye." Remus turned back to Harry. "I know you have questions Harry but they will have to wait. We need to escort you out of here and we have limited time to do so. You already know Alastor," gesturing to Moody, "Nymphadora - "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, my mother's the only one who calls me that." The violet haired witch interrupted.

"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be called by her surname," Remus continued as if without interruptions, "Kingsley Shacklebolt,"

"Harry Potter," a tall black man with a deep voice nodded at him.

"And Degulus Diggle," Lupin finished nodding to the brown haired wizard wearing a hat.

The next half hour was a flurry of activity. Tonks stayed back to help Harry pack while the rest of his ‘guard' made other preparations. He was awed by Tonks Metamorphmagus abilities when she turned her hair to bubble gum pink. Between the two of them, packing was done in fifteen minutes. His trunk was organized, his letters were sealed and the loose floorboard emptied out. He saved the art kit and sketchbooks for last. Tonks was impressed by his drawings of Hedwig and asked if Harry would mind drawing something for her sometime. He agreed. It would help brush up his skills.

They left Number 4 Privet Drive after Lupin explained to Harry that he left a letter behind to his relatives and flew to London. Moody gave him a piece of paper when they arrived at their destination.

The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

As soon as he read that sentence mentally, a house appeared between Number 11 and Number 13. Harry was ushered in but had little time to take in the surroundings as Mrs. Weasley hugged him and ushered him up the stairs to Ron and Hermione and the other Weasleys while the rest went for the Order meeting.

Grilling Ron, Hermione and the other Weasleys after venting his frustrations and anger for the last six weeks, Harry was able to get the gist of what was going on though a part of him was still angry at Ron and Hermione for keeping him in the dark.

Grimmauld Place as quite big. Everyone had their own room according to Ron. Harry was showed to his and asked to be left alone to unpack. That brought him back to the present. He didn't have much to unpack. His clothes and books were put away. He placed Hedwig's cage by the window, opening it for some fresh air. Hedwig flew in as soon as it was opened and perched on his shoulder nibbling his ear.

He placed the art kit and sketchbooks on the desk. He planned to use it before the night was over. He turned to stroke Hedwig when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in." he called.

Mrs. Weasley stepped in. "Dinner's ready dear. The meeting's over."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley." Harry walked forward. Hedwig seemed content to continue to perch on his shoulder. Harry followed Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen. Looking at the house-elf heads on the wall, Harry couldn't help but be a little creped out.

Entering the kitchen, Harry saw Ron and Hermione and the other Weasleys were already there. It seemed most of the people from the Order meeting stayed behind. The table was practically full and there was only one seat available.

A tall man was dressed head to toe in black. His black shoulder length hair framed his long lean face. Deep set onyx eyes were sharp and held an unrivalled intelligence as well as scorn at the noise in the room. The light made his pale skin seem even paler, the blank expression on his face made him unreadable and gave a dangerous aura. Of course it would be too much to ask if anything went his way. Why should it? Harry sighed and schooled his face. He made his way over to Severus Snape, Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and took the available seat.