It was with great reluctance that Harry returned to Number Four, Privet Drive. He was really tempted to just take the Knight Bus back to Diagon Alley and get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. On the other hand, there were still people out there, not to mention Voldemort, who’d like nothing more than his head on a stick. The wards around the Dursley home would keep him safe, at least from outsiders.

Besides, Harry knew Dumbledore would play merry-hell if he didn’t return.

Harry was still technically a minor, and thus accorded only slightly more rights than the typical house elf in Wizarding law. He didn’t really see any other options, so he trudged up the walk to his uncle’s house. He pulled his trunk behind him, with Hedwig’s cage on top.

He pressed the doorbell with a sigh. A moment later, the door opened and his uncle glared down at him.

"Back, are you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied carefully. He needed as little trouble as possible over the next three months.

"Get in here," his uncle growled, "before decent people see you."

No sooner was Harry inside than his trunk was shoved into the cupboard under the stairs, which was then locked.

"I need that sir," he said carefully. "I have summer assignments to complete."

"There will be none of that in this house. I will not put up with your - unnaturalness - boy. Better for you if you flunked out of that filthy school and learned to live like a decent person." He glared at Harry, hands fidgeting at his sides.

Harry knew his uncle was just looking for an excuse to punish him, so he merely stood there and didn’t say a word. Unfortunately, that seemed to infuriate the man further.

His uncle’s slap caught Harry off guard, and he tumbled to the floor.

"Don’t you try to put a spell on me, you filthy wretch!" his uncle screamed.

Harry was on his hands and knees, head spinning.

"Vernon, what is going on here?" his Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, looking angry.

"The boy tried to do something unnatural," he said defensively.

"I was just staying quiet," Harry muttered. His jaw hurt abominably.

"You should have learned that lesson before," she hissed venomously.

Harry stifled a groan as he stood up. His remarks from last August must have really hit home. He’d said it while the memories were still merging, but it was nonetheless true. Petunia’s envy of Lily’s marriage to James was what spurred her to hate him. She’d never forgive him for knowing what he’d learned from his mother’s diary in the Potter family vault.

He needed to keep his mouth shut if he didn’t want to make it worse. "May I go to my room?" he asked quietly.

She sniffed, but nodded. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, reached out toward Hedwig’s cage and locked a padlock around the door.

"What are you - ?" Harry asked, stepping forward without thinking. He was shoved back against the wall and held there by Vernon’s hand.

"That - Bloody - Owl - Stays - Here! Or I will personally wring its neck. We had a visit after you left for that bloody school. Constable came around, asking why you’d been seen outside late at night."

"S-sometimes, I can’t s-sleep, when it’s hot. So I just take a walk." Harry said quickly, hating the quaver in his voice. "I d-didn’t want to bother anyone."

Vernon’s meaty paw had a handful of Harry’s sweatshirt. He pulled him away from the wall and slammed him into it again. "There will be no more late night walks of yours, freak, or I’ll fix it so you never walk again. Your aunt isn’t sticking up for you anymore, and if I had my way you’d be dead. Understand?"

Harry couldn’t ever recall seeing his uncle so full of murderous intent. He just nodded his head dumbly. He was still trapped by circumstances. He had to stay here or everything might go to hell and everyone he cared about would die. "Yes, Uncle Vernon. I’m sorry and it won’t happen again," he said meekly, hating himself even as the words left his mouth.

Harry found himself shoved toward the stairs, and tripped catching his footing. His cousin Dudley was watching from the second floor, his piggy eyes gleaming as Harry shakily ascended the stairs. As Harry passed him, Dudley shoved him hard with his elbow. Harry bounced painfully off the wall, but managed to stumble past, instead of falling back down the stairs.

Harry reached the spare bedroom and closed the door behind him with a sigh. He sat down on the lumpy mattress and checked his pockets. He had a money bag with a galleon and two sickles, his wand was under the sleeve of the baggy sweatshirt that Dudley had outgrown, and he unfolded Ginny’s scarf from his pocket and slid it under his pillow.

It was going to be a very long summer.

~+~

The next day, Harry, still nursing his bruises, was put to work. The backyard garden had really gone to hell, and he was most of the day just weeding the beds.

His Aunt grudgingly fed him lunch before sending him back to work. Her manner was just as frigid and hostile as the previous night. She acted like she couldn’t even stand the sight of him. As far as Harry was concerned, the feeling was mutual. But until he had somewhere to go, or some leverage over the Dursleys, he was still at their mercy. As far as the Wizarding world was concerned, they were his guardians and had full legal control of his affairs.

Harry made sure he was safely in his room and out of sight by the time Vernon got home. His arms and lower back ached from weeding, and the back of his neck was sunburned, but just being able to stretch out for a few minutes was a relief. He waited until he could hear them eating dinner before he chanced a trip to the loo.

Tired as he was, he still couldn’t get to sleep immediately. He’d been so light-headed from getting knocked around that he couldn’t remember dreaming last night. Tonight, he was sure the nightmares would return, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep quiet. Instead of sleeping, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Later on he could hear angry voices coming from the master bedroom. It sounded like his aunt and uncle were having a terrible row, but he couldn’t imagine why.

When he heard his uncle’s voice roaring something about "bloody James Potter", Harry’s blood went cold. Had his uncle heard what he’d said to Aunt Petunia last August? Was that why the two of them were out for his blood now?

Eventually he drifted off around midnight. By some miracle when he woke up around four, he managed to not cry out. He squeezed his hands into fists so tight his knuckles shone white like bare bone. He was walking through the shattered courtyard at Hogwarts, finding his friends, finding Ginny again. He supposed the dream was triggered by him missing Hogwarts, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Harry spent most of the next four weeks in much the same fashion. He didn’t receive any letters, but he wasn’t as disturbed this time around. Dobby was just up to his old tricks — trying to keep Harry safe by making him think none of his Hogwarts friends cared enough to send a letter. Instead of worrying, Harry just carefully thought through what he wanted to say when the house elf finally made an appearance. He knew that fear of him using magic was one of the few things restraining his uncle. He could not chance Dobby getting triggering a warning from the Ministry.

On the morning of his birthday, Harry didn’t even care that the Dursley’s hadn’t remembered. After all that had happened, he could care less what the poster-children for reintroducing Muggle-hunting thought of him. He just hoped that the Weasley boys would take the initiative like they’d done last time. Still, it was better to keep his head down until then. So he stayed well clear of Vernon’s frantic preparations for the dinner party with the Masons. When he caught Dobby peering at him from the hedge, Harry just ignored him.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"I know what day it is," Dudley sang, waddling up behind him.

Harry didn’t even get up from the bench. "Yes, it’s my birthday," he said flatly.

"And I wonder why you haven’t gotten any presents," Dudley asked in a snide voice.

"Probably because something’s intercepting my mail," Harry said in a tired voice.

Dudley had his mouth open to respond, but nothing came out.

"And because I live with people who hate my guts. Aren’t you glad you have parents that take care of you, Dudley?" Harry was too tired to fight with his cousin, and yet he couldn’t leave it alone.

"It - it’s no more than you deserve for being a freak," his cousin sneered.

"No," Harry disagreed with a resigned note in his voice. "It’s because my parents were murdered for doing the right thing, and no one imagined my mother’s sister could have a family so hateful. Aren’t you proud, Dudley?" It was more than Harry meant to say, but it just spilled out of his mouth. He supposed he was talking to the cousin he lost to a Death Eater a world ago.

"I’m going to tell mum!" Dudley threatened.

"You do that, Dudley. And then she’ll punish me and prove me right. Will that make you feel better about yourself?"

Dudley glared at him and stomped off. But Harry didn’t hear his aunt start screaming at him.

As the sun set, he ducked into the kitchen and ate the cheese sandwich his aunt allowed him. His mouth watered as he smelled the pork roast sizzling in the oven, but he ignored the grumbling of his stomach.

Sure enough, Dobby was standing on his bed when he opened his bedroom door.

"Hello Dobby," Harry said. He smiled as the elf’s bulging eyes got even wider. He figured a little showing off wouldn’t hurt here, and might make it easier to convince the well-meaning house elf to stop interfering.

"Harry Potter already knows Dobby’s name. Harry Potter is a most powerful wizard. Dobby is even more glad he came here to - here to - " The tiny creature suddenly grabbed an ear and began to smack its forehead into the headboard.

Harry was anticipating this. He grabbed Dobby firmly around the middle and lifted him into the air preventing further punishment.

"Dobby!" Harry barked. "When a house elf is visiting another residence, are they required to obey their rules?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, unless they would be betraying their family."

"Good. Now the first rule of Harry Potter’s Room is that house elves are expressly prohibited from punishing themselves. If any punishments are due, I will be making that decision. Is that clear?" He gently set the little manikin back on the bed.

"Harry Potter is too generous to a poor house elf! Harry Potter is the greatest wizard ever-" Dobby wailed.

Harry held up his hand. He could hear the conversation downstairs falter and kicked himself. "The second rule is that conversations must occur at a reasonable volume. I need to keep some things quiet, and I’d just as soon not have my uncle in here trying to throttle me. Is that clear as well?"

Dobby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in a comical fashion.

"Now, before we go any further. It will not be necessary for you to betray your family in any fashion. I know you belong to the Malfoy family. I know they are all Dark Wizards; I’ve met Draco and raising a child that foul requires conscious effort. I know they are planning to unleash a great evil at Hogwarts this year. While I appreciate your desire to protect me, I have to attend next year so that I can stop this evil."

"But Harry Potter is too important to risk! Harry Potter has escaped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named twice now. But Harry Potter will be in mortal danger at Hogwarts!" The poor creature was almost frantic, and had begun tugging at its own floppy ears.

"Harry Potter is always in danger at Hogwarts. Harry Potter is in mortal danger everywhere he bloody goes," Harry growled, trying to master his frustration. "Look Dobby, you said I’m a great wizard, right?"

"Harry Potter is the Greatest Wizard ever!" the house elf agreed vehemently.

"Right then; you know what makes a wizard great?"

Dobby looked a little less sure of himself. "Harry Potter is powerful, and wise, and is much too nice to a poor house elf?"

"Someone told me once that a great wizard is one who does great things. Do you understand, Dobby?"

The house elf’s bulging eyes just blinked at him.

"If you stop me from going to Hogwarts to keep me safe from the Malfoy’s plot, if you stop me from protecting my friends, you will be helping the Malfoys. You will be keeping me from becoming a great wizard."

Dobby sighed, defeated.

"I do, however, appreciate what you were trying to do. If I can find a way to get you away from the Malfoy’s, I will."

Dobby just stared at Harry in wonder. Not surprising, I suppose, Harry mused, I did just name his fondest unspoken desire.

After a moment Dobby shook his head. "Dobby does not know how Harry Potter knows all these things, but Dobby will not interfere with the great wizard."

"I appreciate that, Dobby. I don’t suppose I could have my mail now, could I?"

Dobby grinned sheepishly and waved his hand. A stack of letters and a couple of packages appeared on Harry’s rickety old desk. "Dobby must go now, or Dobby’s family will know. Dobby knows Harry Potter will become the greatest wizard ever!" With a quiet pop, the elf disappeared.

Harry sighed with relief. At least that’s one disaster averted.

He smiled as he sorted through the letters. By far the most were from Ginny. He easily had a day’s worth of reading material. If her letters continued to keep the nightmares at bay, he’d be smarter to read them in order and reply to each individually in order to space them out.

Of course, with Hedwig locked up, he’d have to wait for Errol to return again. Now that Dobby wasn’t using house elf magic to collect the letters as soon as the owl entered the property, Harry could use the Weasley owl to send a reply. As long as he left the window open at night, it should work out.

Harry didn’t remember anyone sending him a birthday gift last time, but then again he’d never gotten his mail back from Dobby either. They probably didn’t want me to feel bad after they found out about Dobby, he reasoned. A large box was about a foot square, wrapped in brightly-coloured paper. There wasn’t a tag, but one of the letters underneath it had probably been attached at one point. Harry untied the bow and pulled the lid off.

He jumped back with a strangled cry as four small black blurs leapt out of the box. One immediately latched onto his forearm and he felt sharp teeth pierce his skin. Harry slapped it away but it left a semi-circle of bleeding holes. The wound immediately began to burn and sting. Harry stumbled back, waving his hands to try and keep them away from his face.

It took him a moment to recognize them as Doxies. He and the Weasleys had to clean out a nest of them at Grimmauld place. Mrs. Weasley had warned them that their bite was poisonous as well. Damn, where’s a bottle of Doxycide when you need one?

The vicious biting fairies swarmed around him, feinting at his eyes, tearing at his face. Harry jumped back, trying to land as quietly as possible. The murmurs of polite dinner conversation echoing from below add a surreal counterpoint to the struggle. One of the pair attacking his face looped back for another run, and Harry’s hand snapped out in a textbook back-fist strike. His whole arm unfolded at once and his knuckles snapped into the flying pest like the crack of a whip. The Doxy flew across the room and smacked into the wall over his bed with a faint cry.

The other Doxy crowding his face veered off and Harry picked up the lumpy pillow from his bed and swatted it to the ground. He stomped on it before it could get airborne again and heard a ghastly crunching sound. He looked up, turning, when Hedwig made a whistling screech.

One of the Doxies had tried to reach her through the cage bars and been seized by a very sharp set of talons. That Doxy was making a hideous keening sound, but its partner had circled around the cage and grabbed a handful of feathers on Hedwig’s head. Its other clawed hand was reaching toward her large eyes.

Harry didn’t even stop to think. His wand was in his hand in a flash, and a cutting charm tore the Doxy to pieces before it could gouge out his familiar’s eyes. The Doxy in Hedwig’s talon let out a final screech and stopped moving. She daintily opened her claws and let the foul creature dropped to the floor.

Harry stood frozen, almost nauseous with dread. The Ministry had to have detected that spell, and he knew what was next. He frantically hid his wand under the mattress. It was the only brother wand to Voldemort’s and he didn’t want his uncle snapping it in a fit of rage. He’d barely started cleaning up the dead Doxies when the scream from Mrs. Mason announced the arrival of the Ministry owl. The woman was deathly afraid of birds and Mr. Mason thought the owl was some sort of practical joke and left.

Harry steeled himself at he heard his uncle stomping up the stairs. If I hex him now, everything is bollixed up. The Ministry will snap my wand. Lucius Malfoy would buy Fudge a Swiss Chalet to see that happen. Voldemort will get me and everyone will die and it will be all my fault. I’ve got to get through this. Ron and the twins may be coming soon anyway. I just have to get through this.

The door burst open and his uncle stood there in the doorway in his dinner jacket, his bow tie askew. The parchment from the Improper Use of Magic Office was crumpled in his fist. Harry was still kneeling on the floor, using the lid of the gift box to scrape up the stomped Doxy.

"You never said you weren’t allowed to use magic over the holidays," Vernon said in a low growl.

I just have to get through this. He’ll hit me a few times and then I can wait for Ron and the twins. "S-someone sent me a pranked gift for my birthday," he said quickly. "These things tried to kill me. They’re poisonous." He held up box he was collecting the dead Doxies in.

With surprising agility, his uncle kicked the box out of Harry’s hand. He bit back a cry as something snapped in his left hand. "Then we’ll just have to make sure you don’t have any more birthdays, won’t we?" Vernon followed this statement with a backhanded blow that knocked Harry to the floor. Harry might have been able to dodge it, but that would have blown things up even worse.

Harry felt a hard foot slam into his stomach, lifting him from the ground.

"You try to do anything now; they’ll expel you from that school."

Something struck the side of his neck and a hot pain seared down his side. Harry wondered when the blows would stop.

"I’ll show you what happens when you interfere in MY business."

Harry saw the next kick heading for his face and tried to block it. For some reason his body wouldn’t move right and his left arm flopped weakly in front of him. Vernon’s foot snapped a bone in his forearm and drove Harry’s already injured hand into his face.

I don’t think he’s going to stop, was Harry’s last coherent thought.