Author's note: Based on the idea that at the start of the fourth book, Harry was smart enough to realize that Ron's older brother was a curse breaker, so he'd probably have the most information about cursed scars.

For the plot of this story, several points have been changed from canon. For one, Harry had his dream about Voldemort at the very start of the summer, only two days into vacation.

Harry woke up with a gasp clutching his scar. He frantically tried to remember the dream he had just been having. Something about Voldemort…

Voldemort had killed a man! A muggle man. He remembered the fear he had felt when the chair had turned around, but he couldn't remember what Voldemort had looked like. He tried to hold onto the dream, but it felt like it was slipping away. He could only remember bits and pieces.

The sharp stabbing pain from his scar made it even harder to concentrate. The last time his scar had hurt, Voldemort had been nearby. But there was no way Voldemort was near him now.

Harry glanced around his room as though he'd find Voldemort sitting at the desk smiling at him. While plenty of unusual items were scattered around the room (his broomstick was laying on top of his trunk and a box proudly proclaiming "Owl Treats, Finest Ingredients!" lay on the desk next to a cage), no red eyes looked back at him.

The idea of Voldemort showing up on Privet Drive was so ridiculous that Harry felt better. Privet Drive was exactly the way it had always been. Rows of identical houses lined the perfect suburban neighborhood. Each house was dark with the curtains still drawn. Voldemort would never come to such an exaggeration of everything Muggle.

Harry glanced at the clock on the nightstand; 1:22AM blinked back at him.

The pain in his scar wasn't as sharp of a stab anymore; it was more of a dull ache now.

It still worried him enough that he couldn't get back to sleep. What should he do? Was it possible that Voldemort was nearby planning to destroy the neighborhood? Harry shook his head. From what he could remember from his dream, he knew Voldemort wasn't strong enough to do that.

Harry considered writing his friends and asking their opinions.

Instantly, Hermione's voice, shrill with worry, filled his head.

You had another dream about Voldemort and now your scar hurts? That's really serious Harry! Write the Headmaster right away and I'll check my books. Maybe Common Magical Ailments and Maladies will have something!

Yes, Harry knew for sure what his bookwarm-ish friend would suggest. Write Dumbledore and check the books.

As Harry was the only one to ever survive the Killing Curse before, he doubted that he would find anything helpful in a book on common ailments.

And he didn't know what the Hogwarts Headmaster did during the summer months. Harry wondered briefly what Dumbledore's long white beard would look like paired with a bathing suit before shaking his head. Besides, what business was it for his school's headmaster to know about Harry's nightmares in the middle of the summer anyway? Harry wasn't sure the headmaster was really the right person to write.

Then Harry considered writing Ron, but he knew what his lanky bestfriend would say.

Jeez, your scar hurts. I don't know, maybe that's common for curse scars? I'll ask Dad and see what he says.

Ron's father, Mr. Weasley was a qualified wizard who worked for the Ministry of Magic, but Harry doubted that he'd know much about such a specific topic. He knew more about raising a brood of kids and the misuse of Muggle artifacts than anything else.

As Harry was thinking about the Weasley's, he almost smacked his own face.

Oh course there was a Weasley who knew a lot about curses! Ron's oldest brother, Bill, worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts.

He had to work with curses and their effects everyday. If anyone would know about what was usual for a curse scar and what wasn't, it would be Bill.

Harry sat down at his desk to write the letter, but then he paused.

He'd never met Bill before though he'd heard plenty of stories from Ron. Bill had been Head Boy back in his time at Hogwarts, and he now worked for a bank. Harry had always imagined that Bill must be something of an older version of Percy. How would he feel about his kid brother's friend randomly writing him a letter about curses in the middle of the night? Especially if it was common and he thought Harry was way overreacting.

Harry sat there debating for several minutes before he eventually shrugged. The worst that could happen was Ron's older brother who he'd never met before would think he was a little silly.

When he had finished the letter, he glanced over it.

Dear Bill,

I know we've never met, but this is Ron's friend Harry. This is quite random, but I know you're a curse breaker, and I had a question that seemed right up your alley. Is it usual for a curse scar to hurt years after it was created? Like is it common for them to just random ache or have a sharp pain?

Sorry to bother you. I just saw Ron two days ago when we left Hogwarts, and he was doing well. From what I saw of the rest of the Weasley's at the train station, they were all happy and healthy too. Again, sorry to bother you, but thanks in advance.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

He supposed it looked good enough. Sealing it in an envelope, he laid it down on the desk and got back into bed. Hedwig was out hunting so he'd have to wait until she got back.

Harry looked around the dismay room with distaste. It was only the second day of summer vacation, and he was already miserable.

Except for his time at Hogwarts the last three school years, Harry had lived with the Dursley's for the last 12 years. At the end of July, he would turn 14 and it would start on 13 years with them.

12 miserable years where the Dursleys had hated him and he'd hated them. It was only recently that he'd been allowed to move out of the cupboard under the stairs and into Dudley's second bedroom. Then when he'd returned from Hogwarts the first time, they'd put locks on the door (on the outside) and bars on the small window. Even though Ron and the twins had ripped off the bars, he'd always felt trapped at the Dursley's. Dumbledore had said that there were blood wards that protected him there, but he always wondered if the wards were worth the misery he'd felt there.

Where there other children in the Wizarding World that had been left with less than the best guardians because of magic?

The Dursleys had been arguing about Dudley's new diet the last two days. Despite Dudley's whining and Aunt Petunia's tears, it had been decided that Dudley had to go on a diet. Which meant everyone in the house would have to go on a diet. Unless Harry figured something out, it looked like he would be spending another summer at the Dursley's starving. Of course, he had been used to going hungry there, but it was harder than it ever had been before now that he was used to being able to eat as much as he wanted at Hogwarts.

The next morning, Harry sent the letter off with Hedwig. She'd never failed to deliver a letter before, but Harry worried where he was sending her off to.

Where did curse breakers usually live? Was Bill off in some foreign country like Egypt?

Bill looked over the letter in his hands again.

"What're ya lookin' at Weasley?" asked Bill's old school friend Andrew Huning in his thick Irish drawl. Bill was at the main Gringotts branch to get his next assignment and he'd taken the lunch off to eat with some of his old buddies. He'd been surprised when a snowy white owl had swopped in front of him to drop off a letter. He'd been even more surprised when he read the letter.

"One of my baby brother's friends wrote me a letter about curse scars," he replied absentmindly while he reread the letter again.

Andrew grabbed the letter out of his hands and read over it, his eyebrows going up as he read it, "Not just any friends, Harry Potter himself writin' ya. Do ya think he means the curse scar, his famous lightenin' bolt?"

Bill shrugged, "I'd assume but how would I know? He doesn't specifically say in the letter."

Wallace Turner piped up from the other side of Bill, "Man, you must be salivating over the possibility to examine the famous scar?"

Bill shrugged again with an abashed smile, it's not like he could deny that any curse breaker would be excited to examine the only evidence of the only person to have survived the famous Killing Curse.

"Why don't ya write back and ask if you can visit this afternoon? Ya have a bit of break before your next assignment right?" Andrew suggested. "And if he says ya can, we'll go visit this afternoon."

Bill rolled his eyes, "Andrew, we can't just invite ourselves to a random boys house to examine his scar. What would his guardians think? I haven't even met the boy before."

"Yeah but he is a family friend and this could be serious. You and I both know tat it isn't usual for an old curse scar to send new sharp pains. Besides who looked at the scar originally? What is they missed something and there's lingering magic that's damaging the boy?" Andrew pointed out.

Bill frowned, "I haven't the faintest idea of whose looked over the scar. I'm sure whoever picked him up that night would have looked over him before taking him to his relatives. He lives with his Muggle relatives from what Ron told me, so they wouldn't be able to examine it."

He trailed off as he thought about it. He was sure that a Healer must have looked over the boy, but it was possible they could have missed something. When you don't work with a certain kind of injury everyday, it becomes easier to miss that something was wrong.

"Alright, I'll write him, and we'll see what he says," he finally said.

Wallace shook his head at the other two men, "You curse breakers are all alike. Willing to be rude just to get a look at a fancy bit of magic. Leave me out of this, I don't have any more knowledge of curses than any other average wizard.

Bill sent off a quick letter with Harry's owl saying he'd be over later that afternoon to look at it and talk to him.

Harry was weeding that garden under the pretense of watching for Bill. He wasn't sure exactly how Ron's older brother would arrive. He knew that Bill couldn't just fly in on a broom because of the Privacy Act.

The Weasley's had gone out for dinner, so it was the perfect time. Harry wasn't sure if Bill knew how to blend in with muggles. He might disrupt Surrey Drive slightly, but at least Harry wouldn't have to deal with the Dursley's wrath.

Harry's stomach growled as he pulled more weeds. He frowned to himself.

Breakfast for the Dursley's had been a half of a grapefruit. Dudley had stolen his when Aunt Petunia's back was turned. Vernon had given Dudley an approving nod, so Harry knew his uncle wasn't going to stop him (not that Harry had expected Uncle Vernon to side with him).

They'd left around 11am to go visit someone and then out to a nice dinner. They hadn't left Harry anything for lunch, and he doubted he'd get anything for supper either. Luckily, he still had some sweets left from the Hogwarts Express, but he knew that wouldn't last too long.

He planned on owling Hermione and the Weasley's to see if they could help him with food for the summer. Another summer of starving was not appealing to Harry at all.

Suddenly, the rumbling sound started several streets over. As the sound got closer, Harry thought he recognized it as a motorcycle.

Several heads popped out from behind curtains throughout the street as two large motorcycles turned onto Privet Drive. Harry felt his eyebrows disappear into his hair when they pulled into the Dursley's driveway.

Off of the motorcycles, two men stepped off. When they pulled off their helmets, Harry was able to get a look at their appearances.

He quickly decided the leading rider had to be Bill Weasley. He was nothing like what Harry had expected. He'd expected an older version of Percy. While he was tall and lean like Ron or Percy, and he had the signature red hair of all the Weasley's, he looked nothing like the other Weasley's that Harry knew. Dressed in head to toe in some form of black leather, with long hair pulled into a ponytail and a fang earing, he looked more like he was going to a rock concert than a wizard.

Harry looked at the other man with Bill. He was also dressed in leather, but his was a mix of black and grey pieces. He had short brown hair that curled at the ends. He also had a fang earing as well as a smirk as though he was already planning ways to embarrass everyone around him (it was a look Harry often saw on the Twin's faces).

"'Ello, there, ya must be Harry?" the unknown man said in an Irish accent while offering his hand to Harry. Harry watched them slightly wary.

"I'm Bill and this is my friend Andrew. He works as a curse breaker for Gringotts too and insisted on being brought along," Bill rolled his eyes.

At that, Harry shook the hands offered to him, "We'd better head inside before the neighbors call my relatives."

He turned to head into the house. Andrew and Bill shared a look over his head.

He lead them into the hyper neat house. Aunt Petunia had him deep clean the house the last two days to make up for his absence at school. Not that the house had been dirty, but even scrubbing clean floors without much food is hard.

Deciding that it wasn't a good idea risking Aunt Petunia's floral settee set (what if they had gotten something on their clothes while riding here on the motorcycles?), he lead them into the kitchen.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he fiddled with the hem of his oversized shirt nervously as they each took a seat at the table. They both declined the three stared at each other awkwardly for a minute.

Finally Bill spoke up, "So Harry, you asked if curse scars normally hurt years after the event?"

Harry nodded so Bill continued, "Honestly it depends on what kind of curse was used to create the scar. Some curses are meant to cause lasting pain. Others are just meant to inflict damage. For example, a scar from the cutting charm would not hurt years later even if it did scar. On the other hand, the Cruciatus Curse does not leave scars, but a person can often ache for days after it is inflicted depending on the strength of the caster."

Andrew leaned forward, "Forgive us if we are assuming things, but would you be referring to your famous scar?"

Harry considered what to tell them. He'd always trusted the Weasley's; they had never betrayed him before. Eventually he nodded again.

Bill and Andrew shared a frown before Bill spoke up, "I'm sure you know that no one and no thing has ever survived the Killing Curse before. It would be hard to know for sure what is normal for it or not."

Andrew took over, "'owever, the Killing Curse is part of the spell family of Cadere meanin' 'to fall'. This spells are meant to quickly brin' down an opponent such as with the cutting charm. They are not meant to be 'eld out or used for long times such as with the immobolus spell or the stinging hex. So in theory, it should have done its job to make you fall through death and then dissipated. There are no cases of someone being hit by a Killing Curse and then someone else dying from touching the body. The magic of the curse is not mean' to linger."

Harry frowned, "My scar hurts whenever I get close to Voldemort. This morning, it hurt when I woke up from a dream about Voldemort."

"It sounds like the failed killing curse might have accidently caused a connection to form between you and Voldemort," Bill mused. "The easiest thing would be for Andrew and I to examine your scar.

Harry considered it, "Would it hurt?"

Andrew laughed, "We jus want ta examine it, not poke and prod ya or just experiments on ya."

"We have a set of special Curse Breaker glasses that allow us to look a little deeper at the magic," Bill explained.

Harry took a step towards them, "In that case, I don't mind."

Unfortunately, the front door banged open at that second. Bill and Andrew watched as the blood drained from Harry's face.

"Quick, you need to head out. My relatives got home early," he hissed at that softly.

"Boy! What is parked in the driveway?" Vernon yelled as he came into the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of the two men standing in the kitchen by Harry.

"Since you're home, I'd assume your car is in the driveway?" Harry snarled. He watched as Vernon's face turned his trademark puce color.

"You know what I ruddy meant!" He roared. "All the neighbors looking out their curtains at those motorcycles. It's almost as bad as your frea-" he broke off suddenly as he remembered the other men in the room.

"And who are you anyway? More of the boy's kind?" he asked.

"What exactly is Harry's kind? Do you mean magical?" Bill asked politely.

Vernon shuddered as though he had been hit, "You must be then if you know about that freakishness."

"I would appreciate you not calling magic freakishness," Andrew murmured.

Vernon drew himself up when the word magic was uttered in his house twice, "Out! Get out of my house!"

He got into their faces. Bill and Andrew wisely decided that it might be time to leave. Bill shot Harry a wink to let him know that there were no hard feelings. Andrew tried to mouth to Harry that they'd owl him, but he wasn't sure that Harry had noticed.

When their boots were barely past the threshold, the door was slammed violently behind them. They shared a look before each putting on their helmets and driving away. Once they had gone far from the suburbs to where the land turned to farmlands, they pulled behind a barn before activating their notice-me-not and invisibility charms on the bikes.

If you had the ability to see through such charms, like Alastor Moody and Dumbledore had, you would see two bikes flying through the sky.