It was August. The summer had started out a bit rough. Dudley had found out about Harry's Y membership and had then demanded that he get one too. But Dudley's trips to the Y hadn't lasted long. For one, Dudley wasn't particularly athletic. For another, Dudley's bullying ways weren't tolerated by the staff of the YMCA. Barely three weeks had gone by before the company had banned Dudley from the building.

Dudley had decided to take out his anger about the ban on Harry and his bike. And that was when everything changed. Vernon had come upon a scene that included a bruised and beaten Harry pinned to a tree by two brutes while Dudley stomped on Harry's bike, bending and breaking every piece of metal on it that he was strong enough to damage. The only thing was, it wasn't Vernon. It was Snape.

It was more likely that Draco would don a tutu and dance the Nutcracker Sweet in the middle of the Great Hall than it was that the real Vernon would drag his son home by the ear and wallop his rear end. But that was exactly what happened. Then Snape had confiscated Dudley's wallet and taken Harry out to buy a replacement bike.

The whole thing was bizarre. Snape never identified himself as a polyjuiced Vernon. They both pretend that he was Vernon. Snape wanted to keep his cover and Harry allowed him to do so. But keeping his cover meant that he didn't help Harry with his bruises. At least not right away. Later that evening after Harry's new bike had been stashed away behind Mrs. Figg's house, and Dudley and Harry had held a verbal battle, won by Harry:

"What'd you do to my Dad?"

Harry raised a brow, "Had a friend cast an eye opener on him. Makes him see you for what you really are. Guess he didn't take to the idea of visiting you in a cell."

"What'ch you mean?"

"What do you think cops do? Eat donuts all day? They put cuffs on people like you and stick you in a cell."

"But you're the FREAK!"

"Cells aren't for Freaks Dudders. They're for people who hurt others." Harry had closed his door leaving a pensive Dudley who looked as though he'd had has his world turned upside down). Harry had ordered a meal from Edesia's through the Dieters Treasure Box. Along with the mash, beans and chicken and a slice of cherry pie for dessert, there was a phyla of healing potion.

Dudley had been wary of his father for a few days and had actually kept his nose clean in that time. In a rare stroke of luck, Petunia overheard a conversation at the store.

"That Dursley boy, he actually helped my Jason get home after he took a tumble on his bike! I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen the two of them coming up the drive."

Petunia always believed the best of her son like any good mother should. But Petunia also had an ear for gossip and it hadn't slipped pass her notice that some of the gossip around town was that her son was a bully and would one day end up behind bars. That would not do. This was the perfect opportunity for her to reward Dudley's good behavior without having to admit her son's faults. On her way home she picked up a copy of the new Sonic game. She made sure Dudley realized it was a reward for helping the Anderson boy home.

And so started the corresponding incline of the Dursley's credit card balance and Dudley's helpfulness in the neighborhood.

Harry had kept up with his letters to Snape, informing him of his activities and allowance expenditures. That was how Snape was aware that Harry had been having conflicts with Dudley. Now he had potentially another conflict with a family member coming up. Well, not a family member exactly...

Dear S.,

Aunt Marge is coming for a visit. She hates me. Even more than Filch hates Peeves. But I'm not allowed to leave the house or hardly even the room she's in while she is here. She says it's because she doesn't trust me to be out of her sight, but really I think it's 'cause like Dudley, she gets a thrill out of hurting people and I'm not allowed to defend myself so she can belittle me all she wants without anyone telling her to stop.

To make matters worse, Uncle Vernon won't sign my permission form for Hogsmeade unless I'm nice to her for an entire week! How am I supposed to do that?! I wish I could use magic during the summer. It would make life so much easier.

Missing Hogwarts,

Mr. Fuss

Dear Mr. Fuss,

Do you recall the advice I gave you a few months ago? The way to achieve your goals is to start by writing or drawing them. Then write or draw various plans for how to achieve the goal.

Your lack of understanding of the wizarding world has also earned you an additional summer homework essay. You have until your aunt's arrival to write a two foot essay on the differences between using magic and performing magic. One is illegal for you to do, the other is not. Perhaps as you write the essay you will realize some of the possibilities you have available to you to help you deal with your aunt's presence.

Achieve your goal and you'll earn your privilege.

S.

"So, advice, but no direct help this time," Harry thought with a sigh. Harry re-read the letter. "What should I start with, the essay or the drawings?" Harry asked his owl.

Hedwig didn't respond. She just ruffled her feathers and tucked her eyes beneath her wings.

Harry wasn't sure how to start the essay, so he started with sketching his privilege. He'd draw the goal later. He didn't know what Hogsmead looked like, he'd only seen glimpses of it from the train depot, but he imagined it was similar to Diagon Alley. He drew a street with various buildings on either side: Quality Quiditch, Sugarplums Sweets, Gambol and Japes joke shop, a pub, a book store and others. Then he sketched in him with Ron and Hermione coming in one store or heading out of another.

Harry wished he could make the images move. Perhaps have just one sketch of him and his friends and animate it to make them walk around the village. How was that done? Would they learn it in Charms class? Harry had a flash of a memory. The night Snape had paddled him for wandering in the Forbidden Forest the man had also forced him to spend several minutes staring into the corner of the room.

Harry's emotions had been pretty wound up that night. First he was nearly a steak dinner for spiders. Then he was handed a plank of wood and was told he was going to be hit with it. Running from Dudley and his gang was a good way to avoid getting hit. Running from an adult intent on punishing you was a good way to get hit more than they had originally planned. So though Harry's instincts told him to run he did as he was told and stood in the corner and let his mind do the running instead. He avoided thinking about what had happened and what was about to happen and instead surreptitious glanced around the unfamiliar room. There were easels, paint brushes, and what looked like carving tools.

Harry had never heard any of the students talking about taking art classes. Did Hogwarts have art classes? He'd have to write someone and ask.

As Harry drew he pondered the essay. What was the difference between using magic and performing magic? He began on another picture, doodling his thoughts. The first thing he drew was a simple wand. Being muggle raised, Harry always equated magic to wands. Harry's brow furrowed, "Wands aren't required for all magic. Is that what Snape means by the difference between using and performing magic?" Harry drew a broom flying through the air, a chess board with pieces that walked upon command, a drawer that transported food across hundreds of miles in an instant, that could, with the press of a button, switch to a wardrobe, a fireplace that whisked people away, and a potion that could heal you faster than any muggle product.

Snape implied that there was magic he could use, but not perform in order to deal with his aunt. Harry couldn't see how any of the things he had drawn could help him unless they were used to escape Privet Drive. He doubted that running away was what Snape had in mind.

Running away made him think of a flying car, which he added to his drawing. He and Ron had nearly gotten in serious trouble for being seen by muggles, but the twins had gotten away with it with having to do no more than de-gnome the garden. Finally, he drew a cauldron. During the few weeks Harry had spent at The Burrow the twins had a habit of spiking peoples drinks with things that would give you rainbow hair or cat ears. The twins claimed ownership for their pranks, proud of each new invention. These inventions were brewed. Therefore, potion making must be considered using rather than performing magic.

Harry couldn't bring himself to draw a picture of him and Marge getting along so instead he just wrote.

Goal: I will not get in an argument with Marge Dursely. I will not attack her. I will be civil toward her for an entire week.

Civil...his Uncle had been civil to him for several months now. He hadn't even breathed a word or given a hint of anger when Harry had taken his trunk to his room. His Aunt hadn't been entirely civil. But as long as he did some chores each day she didn't seem to mind him disappearing to the Y for many hours each day. What had Snape done to them to create this change? Was there something similar that he, Harry could do without the use of a wand?