It was your average day at Privet Drive. Families were out, children going about their boisterous ways... all but one, that is. A small boy, hardly visible from behind the bushes, was hard at work weeding the lawn, the other occupants of the house out to his cousin's boxing tournament.

Harry Potter was achingly going through the endless list of chores his uncle had left for him that morning. His mind, however, was elsewhere, reliving his most recent nightmare. The death of his godfather was still fresh in his mind, and he fruitlessly attempted to exhaust his guilt into the task that lay before him.

There was no way in hell he could finish by noon, Harry thought broodingly to himself as he walked to the hose for some water. He'd been out in the blazing sun for over two hours.
The front door slammed shut, making it known that he was no long alone.

Damnit...

"BOY!" his Uncle Vernon bellowed.

"You've done absolutely NOTHING. No good waste of space, you are. Can't even earn your keep!" Harry's face remained void of emotion. There was nothing he could do to make the situation any better, and his mind was still lost behind the veil. A vicious slap knocked him out of his reverie and he could only gape in in shock, mouth agape and now fully coherent.

He had always been knocked about here and there, but his uncle had never dared to outright strike him since his he started Hogwarts.

"I'll not have those FREAKS threatening me after all we've done for you. Expect us to wait on you hand and foot no doubt. I won't have it!"

Vernon violently grabbed the small boy by his hair and all but threw him into Dudley's second bedroom, bolting the door behind him. Shocked, exhausted, and emotionally distraught, Harry collapsed into bed, immediately falling into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Harry was woken by a sharp rap on the door from his aunt. A dull ache in the side of his head brought back recollection of his Uncle's new found courage. He looked into the mirror and grimaced, obeserving the gruesome purple bruise that had formed. After wasting precious time trying to conceal it, he was forced to give up. He carefully made his way down the stairs, still half asleep.

Not a second later the thoughts of sleep were knocked right out of him alongside the air from his lungs as he tripped face-first into the ground.

He looked up to see his cousin Dudley snickering like the overweight pig we was. Viciously, Harry's Aunt Petunia then pulled him up by the arm and shoved him towards the stove.
She muttered the customary "don't burn anything" and assumed he knew the rest.

Home sweet home.

After making breakfast, Harry made to sit in his place at the table when Vernon intervened.

"Oh no, you're not eating until you have every single one of those chores done. The ones you didn't finish yesterday and the ones today. Out!" he shooed him.

Annoyed, Harry walked outside, when a sudden noise caught his attention. The sound resembled wood clattering against a hard surface. He froze and listened carefully. He was almost positive he had heard swearing.

Swallowing nervously, he moved to look behind a bush down towards the end of the lawn, where it sounded like the noise had come from. He pulled his wand out from the holster that clung to his thigh. If this were a death eater ready to have at him, he wouldn't be a sitting duck. About to look over the bush, the crack of apparition reverberated through the air. Someone was watching him.

His mind reeled with possibilities. Surely a death eater couldn't have broken through the wards. Harry could only hope that it had just been someone from the Order.

Turning around, he bumped into the blob that was Uncle Vernon, who was far too close to Harry for his liking.

"What the bloody hell are you doing with that… THING? Why is it not it locked it up with the rest of your freakishness?"

Vernon grabbed the wand and made to snap it in half when suddenly it disappeared from his hand. Next thing he knew, the scrawny teen was making a sprint for the house, wand in hand.

"POTTER! You will not get away with this! I will not tolerate that frea…"

His voice lowered considerably as he swiftly looked around, assuring himself that none of the neighbors had heard him. He looked up to see Mrs. Figg looking out her upstairs window. He smiled and waved.
"I apologize dearly for the racket, Mrs. Figg. The boy can be... stubborn at times."

Vernon swore under his breath, making a beeline for the house with only one thing in mind.

Harry was frantic when he realized how stupid it had been to run into the house where he was trapped. Vernon was heading straight for him. He lifted Harry up by the collar of his shirt and told him, in a voice barely above a whisper, that he would pay for daring to attempt such freakishness in his presence.

He dragged Harry up to the bedroom, threw him onto the floor, and started to unbuckle his belt.

No bloody way… was all Harry could think before he was roughly lifted once more and shoved against the wall. He immediately began to struggle, desperately wanting to get away from the meaty fist that was choking him.
"This'll teach you, Potter. No more of this nonsense. I. wont. HAVE IT!"

Vernon, belt doubled in his hand, began to rain down lashes onto the struggling boy. Defiance shone in Harry's eyes throughout the entire ordeal, as it was the only thing he was able to do to reserve what was left of his pride. Every scorching welt simply fueled his determination. He would not break, he would not be bent to his Uncle's sadistic pleasure without a fight. He may have been defenseless in past years, but he was older now. He could manage. What seemed to be hours later, the belt stilled, as did everything else.

Nothing could be heard but Harry's ragged breathing as he nearly fell to unconsciousness. The sound was a sharp contrast to the deep silence that was left in the strap's wake. Vernon left not a second later.

"Headmaster I really must insist that we continue searching. Do remember that we will not be allowed entrance to Grimwauld Place until we have express permission from the heir!"

Remus Lupin was clearly agitated, everything crashing down upon him all at once. They were all surprised to discover that Sirius had not left the estate to his best friend.

"Not to worry," Albus Dumbledore said calmly.

"Albus it is prudent we find the owner before Hogwarts reopens!", Remus carried on.

But Dumbledore continued as though uninterrupted.

"I already have an idea as to who it may be."

Minerva McGonagall, who was silent until this point, sighed.

"Well… so long as you have this under control, Albus."

A thought suddenly came to her.

"Is no one keeping an eye on Mr. Potter today? That boy seems to find trouble at every instant and everyone is currently present..."

Mischievous glint in his eyes, Dumbledore was quick with his answer.

"Not everyone, Minerva."

At first, McGonagall was at loss, but not five seconds later her eyes widened with realization.

"But headmaster, how did you do it? I asked him to cover for me a few weeks ago, and he looked at me as if I were mad to even suggest the idea!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Let's say that it was quite simple once I revealed to him the attendees of this meeting." He glanced at the Weasley twins, who stared back levelly.

"Well, you should be happy we got rid of the git.", they said surely.

"Fred! George!" Molly Weasley looked at them disapprovingly.

"Yes mother?" they responded together innocently.

Severus Snape was not happy. He'd been made to choose between those ghastly Weasley twins and Potter, of all people. He'd quickly chosen the latter, however, after being informed that all he would do was look in on the boy for a bit, and that no confrontation was necessary, or even approved of.

Finally reaching Number Four Privet Drive, invisibility charm in place, Severus' attention was caught emmediately by the racket coming from the backyard. Alert, he made his way towards the back of the house.

Of course it was Potter. At first glance, one would think he was simply lazing about. But as Severus got a closer look from behind a bush, he realized that Potter was... weeding the lawn!

Snape smirked at, refusing to acknowledge the surprise that he felt. At least the boy's relatives weren't letting him laze about all day. His attention was then caught by the bruise on the young wizard's face. Leaning in to get a closer look, Severus swore angrily as his wand slipped through his robes and clattered to the floor. It was such an uncharacteristically careless thing for him to do. He would have been as good as dead in any other situation.

Looking up, he saw that Potter was headed towards him. Despite knowing that sound of apparition was easily detected, Severus would rather not let Potter know that it was him that was there, for various reasons. If the boy wrote of the situation to the headmaster, it would be cleared up easily. With a crack, Snape was gone.

If only he had waited for a few more minutes...