Defending the Light
Summary: Harry makes up his mind to do anything to destroy Voldemort, with no idea it'll include werewolves, elves, the Veil, the Chamber of Secrets, Azkaban, exotic new powers, and… a secret identity? Will he be able to keep his secrets without losing everything else?
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
I needed a way for Harry to get into pretty good shape quickly and efficiently. I hope you guys like my idea.
When Harry reached the door, he turned around to look at Dumbledore one last time. But without a sight or sound, the Headmaster had already disappeared.
Chapter 14: Undercover with Underwear
"Idiot."
"Wanker."
"Git."
"Nerd."
"Arse."
"Prat."
The second the door was closed, Harry and Dudley started randomly volleying out insults at each other for no particular reason except intense disdain. This riveting conversation of one word utterances continued until Harry reached the door to his room, which opened without him having to even touch the door. Harry, angry at himself for once again losing control over his magic, just got angrier, thus making the light fixture in the hall flick on and off several times in an all-around creepy manner.
Dudley jumped about a foot in the air, something Harry had previously thought impossible for someone of Dudley girth, and yelled, "Why couldn't you have just died in that stupid portal thing? The world would have been much better off without your freakish self in it!"
As he opened the door to his room, Harry once again wished desperately that he could have stayed with Sirius and Remus. He quickly reminded himself he now had all the privacy he needed to work on his wandless magic and find out what was going on that was making him lose his control over his powers. Harry now had two months to do it, but he wasn't really sure if he could. Harry's room was the same as it was when he'd left it a week ago and yet so much seemed to have changed since then. He had discovered much, but part of what he had discovered was that there was still much he didn't know.
Not for the first time, Harry briefly wondered if he should travel to the Forbidden Forest and look around with the stone/key, as he opened his backpack and let the contents spill pell-mell onto his bed. But that was illogical and Harry knew it. Whatever the secret was, it was probably hidden somewhere much more obscure than the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore knew the forest too well. Harry wasn't sure how close he had to be to the 'secret' for the stone to turn into a key (or whatever it would do) anyway. The probability of something crazy like walking into the forest and having the stone turn into a treasure map was a very slim one. There was, after all, a chance that the stone wasn't the key his father had meant at all.
"Potter!"
The sound of his uncle's yell brought Harry out of his thoughts.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry called down the stairs as he made his way to the kitchen.
When he reached his destination, he found Vernon sitting at the kitchen table glaring menacingly at him.
"Well," Vernon snapped, "As you're obviously still alive, why don't you make yourself useful and weed the front yard. Dinner is expected at six o'clock sharp, and you will be making it."
"Right," Harry nodded glumly, not wanting an argument with his uncle.
The reluctant Boy-Who-Lived grabbed a book of spells he planned to memorized and took it outside with him. He had it enchanted to look like a Muggle gardening book to everyone but him, so the large volume of magical information didn't draw any attention. Using a little obscure wandless magic and a small charm he learned in a Dark Arts book that inhibited the Ministry from tracking small acts of magic done in Muggle areas, Harry finished the gardening in record time. He had bought the book via owl order under a fake name from a rather esoteric shop in Knockturn Alley
When Harry looked up from his work, he noticed Vernon's car was not parked in the garage as it normally was. To the average person, this small fact may not have seamed strange. But Harry knew Vernon, and he rarely parked his car in the driveway for no reason; he was too paranoid someone was going to steal it. Harry walked to where the side door of the garage was. When he opened it, Harry got a surprise; the garage had been transformed into a state-of-the-art gym.
"Hey," Dudley sneered at Harry as he went to inspect the various weights, "Get out of my back-from-school present."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Vernon was a very pleased that his son had made the wrestling team again.
"What does this thing do?" Harry asked curiously, inspecting a random piece of equipment.
When he got no response, Harry just shrugged. He'd figure it out later. Contemplating the situation Harry found, although he'd certainly have to clean it, the new gym in the house was far from disadvantageous. One of the Defense Against the Dark Arts books Sirius and Remus had given him had suggested having knowledge of Muggle defense and staying in shape would help with ones dueling ability. Harry hadn't had as much time at school to focus on his physical fitness; he just assumed Quidditch would work fine for exercise. Now, however, Harry had plenty of time, and the extreme motivation of having to defeat Voldemort. He walked over to the weights again and picked one up, lifting it up in down haphazardly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dudley stopped bench-pressing and asked him in a very deprecating manner.
"Er… lifting weights."
Dudley snorted, "I can see that, but, bloody hell, what are you trying to do? What muscles are you trying to work? Biceps? Triceps? Does your puny little self even know what a muscle is?"
Deciding to ignore the insults for once, an exasperated Harry replied, albeit quite moodily, "Well if I'm so horrible at this, why don't you enlighten me on the right way to lift these damn things."
"Fine," Dudley replied, haughtily, before proceeding to do something he had never done before.
He started giving Harry a lecture.
After years of Harry knowing more than him, years of Harry getting better marks than him, Dudley had finally discovered he knew something that his cousin didn't. Harry just stared for a moment before he registered that what Dudley was saying could probably help him and accio-ed a pen and piece of paper to himself so he could write it all down. Not only did Dudley seem to know everything about exercise and training but the proper way to construct a healthy diet as well. Apparently, Dudley had actually taken in more from the constant lectures from doctors and school nurses about his health than anyone could have ever imagined.
Fifteen minutes later, Dudley was still talking.
"And that is how you properly exercise your pectoral muscles. The abdomen, on the other hand… you're actually taking notes?"
Harry started at the abrupt change in direction Dudley's words had taken, "Yes. Why are you stopping?"
"I think I'm more freaked out about your listening to me than I am about that pen writing by itself," Dudley rubbed his temples and stared at the pen Harry had enchanted to take notes for him.
"Yeah, well, my hand got tired. And for your information… well, blimey, I need your information."
"Why? Are you getting beat up at your school? Ha! I knew you were a total loser!"
"Not exactly…"
"What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"I'm trying to improve my dueling ability so I can one day defeat the evil and powerful wizard who killed my parents because I'm prophesied to be the only one who can kill him and, in the meantime, protect myself from his army of psycho underlings."
"Very funny, Potter. Pull the other one."
Harry sighed, he knew his cousin wouldn't believe him, "Well can you at least keep talking. I need to know the quickest, most efficient ways to get into shape. And I don't think learning how to fight would be a bad idea either."
Actually, Harry thought it might very well be a great idea. No use in training to fight Voldemort for years only to get caught off guard without his wand by some random mugger. He could just see the headlines: "Boy-Who-Lived Killed by Muggle Attempting to Steal His Non-Existent Wallet." Voldemort would probably throw a fit if a petty Muggle thief took down his archenemy when Riddle himself could not get to him. Then Voldemort would probably celebrate. Harry's very strange mental image of the wizarding world's most feared dark wizard since Grindelwald and his Death Eaters having a margarita party was brusquely ended when Dudley opened his mouth.
"Why should I help you? Why should I care if you're getting beat up at school."
"I'm not getting beat up at school! But anyway, that's not the point… Er… A deal! You can do deals right? If you help me with my strength training, I'll help you with your summer homework. And don't even pretend you don't need help. I heard your mum talking on the phone to the headmistress at Smeltings at the beginning of the holiday and according to them, you'll be expelled if you don't complete and do well on all of your summer assignments. I also heard you've got to retake your exams before the end of August in order to go on the next grade level as well."
"And what if I am expelled?"
"I don't think any other private school will accept you. And I hear Stonewall is getting really bad funding and had to drop their wrestling team from the curriculum this past year."
"Fine then, but I'd better see results or I'm pulling out."
"Same here. Now what were you saying about the abdomen…?"
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The evening had passed in a blur of housework and studying magic. Harry had a few problems with his wandless magic again, but nothing too bad. It seemed to him that the more he practiced wandless magic, the less he completely lost control over it. After dinner, Harry still continued to work nonstop by escaping back to the gym. When midnight rolled around, he was still there, doing weightlifting exercises and reading and rereading Dark Arts books, trying desperately to memorize every spell. He wished he had someone to practice dueling with so he could really put some of his knowledge to the test. It is always a lot easier to remember spells in the comfort of a safe haven than it is to remember them when you're fighting to the death in a wizard's duel.
"You're still awake? I thought it was weird the light was still on in here."
Harry turned to see Dudley standing in the doorway in his pajamas with a bag of crisps in hand.
"I thought you said too much sodium isn't good for a person," Harry rolled his eyes at the bag of crisps.
"You know," continued Dudley, ignoring Harry's last comment, "If you keep working yourself like this when you're not used to this kind of exercise, you won't be able to move later on."
"I can handle it."
"Yeah, but can your body?"
"It's already gone sort of numb anyway. If I meditate and concentrate on my studies hard enough, I can't feel anything. And I'm determined to adequately exercise every individual muscle like you told me before I go to bed."
"Alright then," Dudley snorted, "but when you feel like shit in the morning, don't come crying to me."
It was three in the morning by the time Harry fell asleep. And for once, he didn't have any trouble drifting off.
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4 hours later:
"WAKE UP, BOY! I NEED TO GET TO WORK AND BREAKFAST ISN'T GOING TO COOK ITSELF!"
Harry groaned. He wanted to die. He wanted to drop dead and lose all feeling in body.
While stumbling downstairs, Dudley gave Harry a very smug 'I-told-you-so' look before going back into his room to catch some extra sleep before breakfast. Harry then proceeded to fall down the stairs and accidentally smash a vase with wandless magic out of frustration. Luckily, he was able to repair it again using wandless magic as well. Stumbling into the kitchen, Harry found that simple tasks were going to be very difficult to accomplish, as it was sheer torture just to bend over to retrieve the pots and pans from the bottom self. Aunt Petunia walked into the kitchen just as Harry was tripping over his own feet.
"What did you do to yourself?" Petunia griped as she grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and shoved him into a chair, "One second thought, don't answer that. I think I already know. You were in that gym weren't you? Typical."
Harry grumbled, "What's so typical about it?"
"Boy, with parents like yours there couldn't be anything more typical." Petunia responded as she started to make breakfast herself.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, completely forgetting the pain in the light of discovering something new about his parents.
Petunia sighed, "Both of your parents were very stubborn and very driven, especially your mother. If she was going to do something, she was going to go all out and she was going to do it right. I used to envy her in my youth, she always got such good marks in school and everyone seemed to like her. But that was pretty daft of me I suppose. She worked hard for everything she got. But, not unlike yourself, Lily sometimes went a little too far. One night she stayed up much too late studying for a test and by the time she had to take it, she was exhausted and did poorly on it. So you see, things like studying and exercising are both good things, but too much of a good thing is still too much, and you have to know your limits. I think Lily learned that as the years went by, and both your parents learned to realize it when they had you. Even your father matured some then."
"Did you know both of them very well then?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, I did." Aunt Petunia sighed, "I went to their wedding, snuck there more like it. Vernon didn't want me to go. It was enjoyable; I got acquainted and reacquainted with some very interesting characters there. I am actually quite glad Sirius Black is still alive; he was a very charming, mischievous man and I did enjoy his company." She laughed, "Your mother chucked an enormous piece of cake at his face during the reception when he made some lewd comment about the bridesmaids and then chucked another piece at your father for laughing at it. Of course I lost contact with your parents when they went into hiding. Lily visited me one last time before she left and I never saw or heard from her again."
Both aunt and nephew were silent for a while as Aunt Petunia prodded the bangers in the pan.
A few minutes passed before Petunia reverted to her normal self and barked snappishly at Harry, "Stop sitting around, you've had enough rest. Set the table. Now!"
Harry jumped up, almost falling over again. While he set the table that morning, Harry contemplated his aunt's strange behavior. Eventually Vernon came down to breakfast, as did Dudley. Harry just sat at the table and picked at his food, both pain and restlessness having ruined his appetite, but Vernon didn't notice. Time seemed to fly for Harry, and in short order, when he looked up from his untouched food, he found himself once again alone in the kitchen with Aunt Petunia.
"Go upstairs, boy." Petunia told her nephew in her usual petulant tone, "I know you're making some strange concoctions up there, so go take something that will put you to rights. Then take some aspirin or something. You're of no use to anyone in your present state."
Harry nodded silently before saying quietly, "Aunt Petunia, I know you may not think much of it… and, well, you're usually pretty cold towards me. But just so you know, when you talked to me about my parents, I was… glad. Thank you."
That said, Harry made his way up the stairs, not looking back once. He didn't know how his aunt had reacted to his statement, and he didn't really want to know. Her silence told of her customary indifference to her nephew, and Harry didn't feel like being faced with another cold expression.
Although if he had looked back, Harry might have observed that Aunt Petunia's grip on the cloth she was using to wash the dishes had tightened. He might have noticed that the pace of her washing had sped up considerably and she became clumsier in her movements. And if he hadn't been so eager to retreat back to his room, Harry might have heard Aunt Petunia drop a plate, might have heard it shatter. Harry might have wandered back into the kitchen and seen his aunt drop to the floor, trying desperately to pick up all the pieces and cutting herself in the process. He could have watched her silently as she stared at her bloody hand, turned her head to the ceiling, and asked no one in particular why picking up pieces always had to hurt so much…
But he didn't. And life continued as it normally did at number four Privet Drive. Well… almost.
------------------
"What do you mean you don't know how to calculate the volume of a triangular prism? It says right here in your book."
"It says (½bw)(h). What the hell does that even mean?"
Harry groaned audibly and rubbed his temples. It was a sunny afternoon on Privet Drive and Harry had just managed to take a break from housework only to end up helping his cousin do homework. Three days had gone by since he'd made his deal with Dudley, and now he was paying for it. Apparently, Dudley's headmistress had given him not only homework to do over the holidays, but copies of all the assignments he had ever blown off to do as well.
Dudley had blown off a lot of assignments at Smeltings.
Harry really hoped he'd get some time for his own homework eventually. He'd been studying a bunch, but studying dark magic and magical philosophy, as useful and interesting as it was, could not be turned in to professors for credit. Harry imagined McGonagal would have a conniption if he ever tried. And Snape… Snape would probably murder him. Although Harry doubted he'd have much trouble in potions in his sixth year since he was having so much practice at home. Yesterday he had brewed himself a variety of healing potions for his muscles, he was still sore, but he felt much better now. The only problem with all the potions he'd taken was that the high magical content in his bloodstream could make the Mind-Trapping Potion react strangely, so Harry had had to skimp on his daily dose. But he doubted Voldemort would try to break into his mind now, especially after he'd had it guarded for so long.
Harry sighed, "Why don't you work on something else for a while, I need to do laundry. You do remember how to calculate the volume of a rectangular prism, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," Dudley said, "Bwh, base times width times… wait a minute."
Harry sighed again, this time with relief. It seemed getting Dudley to understand geometry was going to be less of a nightmare than trying to get him to understand Shakespeare had been. It wasn't that his cousin was completely stupid; Dudley just hadn't paid attention to anything academic in the past sixteen years of his life.
Harry quickly made his way over to the washing machine and dryer. He took the whites out of the dryer and put them in a basket, took the darks out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer, and took the lights out of a hamper and put them into the washing machine. When he finished, Harry leaned over to pick up the basket of whites to carry upstairs, but was suddenly overtaken by a wave of nausea and an abrupt dizzy feeling.
The next instant, Harry knocked over the hamper and fell into the pile of clothes before his world went completely black. The next thing he knew, he was in a dark room looking angrily at a group of cowering Death Eaters.
"Fools!" He heard himself say in a voice that wasn't his own. "There was no reason for an attack there! You could have given away the location of the Temple."
Harry, who had been cursing up a storm in his head for skimping on the Mind-Trapping Potion, perked up mentally. Maybe accidentally transporting himself into Voldemort's mind wasn't such a bad thing after all. He didn't know how it had happened, but from past experience, he got the feeling it had something to do with Voldemort's emotions. Voldemort was, at the moment, very angry, which had probably triggered Harry's connection to him through the scar to react.
"M… Master," one of the Death Eaters spoke up, "W… we did not believe we were disobeying orders. It was only a small Muggle village in the largest forest in the country and we only mildly harassed some of them…"
"There was a death, McAllen, a death!" Voldemort practically shrieked.
"But…"
At his last words, and they really were his last words, Voldemort hit McAllen with the killing curse, effectively scaring the crap out of every Death Eater there. Harry was a bit unnerved by the whole situation, but remained focused on his goal of figuring out at least a hint of one of Voldemort's plans.
Voldemort's gaze fell on his Death Eaters as he spoke, "You are all very lucky. If the Brazilian Wizarding government wasn't so eager to cover everything up, the Order of the Phoenix may have been given a clue to the whereabouts of the Temple and the prize within it that both sides seek. I told all of you to set up camp in the forest, but also to not draw unneeded attention to yourselves."
"Yes, master," the Death Eaters chorused.
Harry had the sudden feeling he was being tugged at by an unseen force.
"The day after tomorrow," he heard Voldemort say while at the same time being pulled back into his own body, "We will attempt to get into the Temple even without the key. No thanks to any of you, the effort put into untangling the ancient protection spells is coming along…"
Harry never knew how it was coming along because a moment later he was back in front of the washing machine, lying in a pile of the Dursley's underwear.
"Boy!" Petunia snapped, "What are you doing!"
"I… I'm sorry." Harry stuttered, a bit shaken by the suddenness of the events that had just elapsed, "I didn't mean to… I…"
Deciding he needed to more space to think things through, Harry bolted to his room. He ended up running right smack into Dudley instead.
"What are you doing?" his cousin asked.
"Going to my room."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
Harry sighed, exasperated, and decided to just tell the truth since Dudley wouldn't believe him anyway, "Because I just saw a vision and spied on the evil dude who killed my parents."
Dudley snorted, proving Harry's earlier assumptions correct, "So you're saying you were undercover?"
"Er… sort of."
"With underwear?"
It took Harry a moment to comprehend what Dudley meant. Then he reached up and realized he had a pair of Vernon's underwear on his head.
"No wonder you're getting beat up at school," Dudley said gleefully as he walked away.
"I AM NOT GETTING BEAT UP AT SCHOOL!" Harry yelled.
Once upstairs, the 'Chosen One' replayed the vision in his head. Voldemort had mentioned a forest. He was looking for a forest. The Temple obviously had something to do with the key. Was the Temple the secret then? Probably, Harry thought. But what was in it? He jogged his mind until he suddenly remembered something.
"There is a book, a book of spells, potions, and other ancient forms of magic little known throughout history, and completely forgotten in the precious cycle of age…"
The book! Harry's mind raced. Voldemort was looking for that magical book and he'd found it. In a temple! But he couldn't get in the Temple without the key… or unraveling the ancient protection spells. Where was the Temple though?
"We suspect it lies somewhere in South America." Dumbledore had said.
South America, but where in South America was the Temple and the book? Voldemort had mentioned Brazil. Were there forests in Brazil, and if so which one was the Temple in? A couple seconds later, it clicked.
"Do you think," Harry asked Hedwig in a hushed voice, "the Temple Voldemort was talking about could be in the Amazon Rainforest?"
Hedwig just hooted in response. Telling himself that he was not crazy for talking to an owl because he'd only really been talking to himself, and brushing off the fact that talking to yourself is one of the first signs of insanity, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He needed all the information on the Amazon Rainforest that he could get. Harry, however, didn't exactly have the means to acquire such information. The Dursley's didn't keep that many books, and if there was one thing Uncle Vernon hated almost as much as people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and, of course, Harry, it was nature. He didn't have a library card because the Dursleys didn't want him seen in public in the first place. And Dumbledore had advised him to stay in the neighborhood and in the house as much as possible. So Harry was unsure of where to get information.
"Dudley!" he yelled from the top of the stairs.
"What?" Dudley responded, obviously annoyed.
"Can you go to the library and get me some books on the Amazon Rainforest and Brazil?"
"No."
"But…"
"No."
"But…"
Dudley rolled his eyes, "You moron, I'm not going to waste my time going to the library to get books," he said the word as though it was something rotten and disgusting, "on some stupid rainforest. Even if I did want to help you, I still wouldn't go. You can easily get information on anything on the Internet, I swear… Hey! Where are you…"
Harry was already on Dudley's computer before the sentence could be finished.
"Mum!" Dudley called down the stairs, "Potter's on my computer!"
"Boy, get off Dudley's computer," Aunt Petunia gave a shrill yell from the kitchen.
Harry didn't get off; he was too busy trying to figure out how to work the computer by clicking random icons.
"He's not getting off and he's going to end up making it combust or something. He has no idea how to work it!" Dudley whined.
Harry swore he could hear Aunt Petunia sigh from all the way downstairs, "I'm busy right now. Boy, you're going to get it when your uncle gets home if you don't get off!"
Dudley smirked at his cousin in triumph.
"Don't get too excited," Harry told Dudley, "The information I'll gain here will be well worth whatever your dad has in store for me."
Deciding he'd just have to deal with Harry himself, and completely forgetting his cousin was a wizard with connections to 'dangerous murderers', Dudley took a swing at Harry, prepared to give him the 'old one two'. Unfortunately for Dudley, Harry had not forgotten the fact he was a wizard and soon had his cousin in a body bind curse.
"Let me go!" Dudley almost begged a second after he'd tried to throttle his captor.
"Tell me how to work the Internet and I will." Harry replied.
"I won't tell you anything!" Dudley responded, sweat running down his face, "I… I'll tell dad…"
"Breathe a word of this to Vernon Dursley and you will never get any help from me ever again," Harry stated calmly, "Also, I will give you a pig tail like Hagrid did that one time."
This shut Dudley up, as having that pigtail removed had most likely been a less than pleasant experience. So instead of beating up his cousin like he intended, Dudley ended up explaining to Harry the basics of working a computer. All in all, Harry learned that the Amazon Rainforest occupied 7 million km2, 60 of them which were in Brazil. When he tried to find out who in Brazil had died lately, he found that the deaths were mostly recorded as natural or accidents. And the only people who had been murdered there lately lived in bigger cities, not small towns. Eventually, Harry had to stop his constant Google-ing (as Dudley called it) and go make dinner.
At dinner, Harry was shocked Petunia didn't mention his earlier antics. Thankfully, he had scared Dudley enough that the boy didn't say a word. After doing the dishes, Harry ran upstairs to find a strange owl on his bed, a letter clutched in its claw. It was from Elaina Lafina.
Dear Harry,
Greetings from Brasília! I hope you are feeling better since the last time I saw you. That's really all I wanted to say. Strange, I know, that I'm writing to you, but I think you're a good kid and I don't really want to sever ties with you.
I've been quite busy over here in Brazil, besides all this diplomatic business I've been put up to, there's been two Death Eater attacks here (one I mentioned earlier in Porto Villa and another one just yesterday at a small Muggle village called Floresta). It is not too strange for Death Eaters to attack out of the United Kingdom, but having two so close together and in the same country is more than a little odd. Some government officials have told me that the Order of the Phoenix has been alerted, so I suppose it will be up to Dumbledore to decide if investigations should take place. (I can't say much more in case this letter is intercepted.)
I hope you'll write back to me to tell me how you're fairing. I really am concerned about your health.
Best wishes,
Elaina
Harry practically went into shock. The answer to his queries were right there in the letter. Floresta must be the village that the Voldemort was talking about! Now all he had to do was get to the village and walk into the forest, letting the key guide him the rest of the way. While Dudley was downstairs, Harry snuck onto his computer again and figured out how to print out information on the rainforest. Once he was sure he had everything he needed to know, Harry went back downstairs and bugged Dudley into giving him weightlifting pointers.
Voldemort had said something about the Brazilian Wizarding Government trying to cover up the attack, so the Order of the Phoenix probably didn't know anything about it. If Harry tried to contact them, he knew he'd have to explain about his vision and, more importantly, the key. Maybe he was mistaken, and with his luck, Harry thought, he probably was, but he had a feeling that told him he shouldn't inform the Order of the Phoenix about the attack. He had a feeling that there was something he needed to do. Something he needed to do alone.
He was going to look for the Temple. And Harry didn't care what he had to do, whether it be going against Dumbledore or going undercover with underwear, in order to find it.
It's the calm before the storm…. Well sort of. An adventure is in store for Harry in the next few chapters that will change everything.
In the Next Chapter, The Forest, Harry informs his relatives he's leaving, meets an old friend, and is reminded of the fact that not everything always turns out as planned, especially if your name is Harry Potter.
Yes, I know, I haven't updated in forever and this chapter's pretty short. And I know what you're thinking. I have no excuse not to update. It's not like I left the country or anything, right? Wrong. After using up precious computer time normally spent on fanfiction filling out an enormous application and an essay, I ended up winning a scholarship for a month-long exchange program in Germany. It was a great trip! I got back though… just in time for Band Camp.
Floresta means 'forest' in Portuguese (or so says the internet translator). As far as I know, there isn't a village in Brazil called Floresta, I just needed a name. If you're from Brazil and find this incredibly stupid, please excuse my ignorance and feel free to suggest a better name.
Yeah, yeah, I know I'll get them. Reviews telling me that Dudley and Aunt Petunia are out of character, but you know what, I don't really care at the moment. I can go back to my original story where everyone acts the way I want them to anytime if you want me to.
I'm also writing another fanfiction called Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice; if you like kind of dark AU mystery fics; go read it. And please ignore the fact that I'm shamelessly plugging my other fics on here.
Oh yeah, do you see why I need Elaina in here now? Harry's got to have a few connections or he's never going to go anywhere in this fic.