/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /
Chapter One
The rain pounded hard against the window. The wind was also making a dreary sound, almost as if a ghost was mourning for its loss. This had been keeping up for several hours now, when the night was still young. But Harry, who was bent over a piece of parchment in his room, didn't pay any attention to the weather outside.
Harry sighed and sat up. Placing his quill back into the inkwell, he picked up the paper that he had been bent over for some time and reread what he had written.
Ron,
Hey, thanks for the load of sweets that you sent me for my birthday. It's quite a pleasant change from eating Muggle food every day, especially when the cook is your one and only Aunt Petunia. I hope I'll be able to go over to your house, too, sometime this summer. I hate being here with the Dursleys; they just don't appreciate a wizard in the family. Well, I guess I'll hear from you soon. Say hi to everybody for me.
HarryHarry nodded in satisfaction. There really wasn't anything else he wanted to say to his friend of almost six years. Finding an envelope buried under all of his papers, Harry placed the letter into the envelope and sealed it before writing Ron Weasley on the front of it.
A small hoot from the corner made Harry turn around. He smiled when he saw his owl, Hedwig, sitting on the perch near the window. He got up and went to her, tying the letter to her foot.
"Make sure this gets to Ron, alright?" Harry said to her.
Hedwig looked into his eyes before flying out through the window. As his eyes followed her out, Harry noticed that there was a puddle of water on the floor. He realized with a start that he forgot to close the window. Crossing the room, Harry went to the window and closed the window with a bang. How could he be so stupid?
All of a sudden, a sharp pain seared across Harry's forehead and he clutched his scar in pain. Ever since the end of last year, Harry's scar had been hurting more than ever. It wasn't surprising, really, after all Voldemort was back and was now more than angry than ever before, since Harry had slipped from the Dark Lord's grasp yet again.
A big snore emitted into the still air from the room next door and Harry jumped in the air with surprise before realizing that it was only Dudley, his big oaf of a cousin. Going back to sit on his bed, Harry glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 in the morning. Well, it wasn't as if he had to get up in the morning anyway anymore. His aunt and uncle used to make him get up at a certain hour every morning to cook breakfast. But ever since the end of last year when Moody told the Dursleys off for treating their nephew badly, Harry was finally treated as if he was normal—somewhat at least.
Leaning back against his pillows, Harry looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He had been doing that lately, especially about Sirius. A pang shot through Harry's chest. He always felt a twinge of guilt whenever he thought about his godfather because Harry knew that Sirius's death was he, Harry's fault. If he'd only practiced blocking out his dreams like he was supposed to, then none of this would happen.
A big shadow suddenly darkened Harry's doorway. He jumped up, pulling his wand out quickly. When he saw that it was his Uncle Vernon, Harry sighed with relief. He was beginning to be a bit paranoid about everything nowadays, it seems.
"What are you doing up at this hour of the morning?" Vernon demanded.
"Why does it matter how long I stay up or not? Why are you in here, anyway?" Harry asked.
"The storm's been keeping me up. And I heard you talking with that fool of a bird of yours. Do you think it can talk back or something? And put that thing away before you kill somebody" Vernon exclaimed, pointing to Harry's wand.
Harry pocketed his wand and walked to the window. "I was just telling her where to send the letter I sent."
Harry glanced back at Vernon and noticed that he wanted to say something, probably wanting to say that wasn't allowed, what would the neighbors think, but refrained himself from saying anything of that sort. It seemed like he was afraid Harry would send another letter to one of those psychos from the train and tell them what Vernon said. Harry smiled at the thought of it.
"What are you grinning about?" Vernon growled.
"It's really none of your business, Uncle Vernon. Why don't you go back to bed? It's probably more pleasant than being in here with me," Harry said.
"If I had the sense to knock you stupid, I would," Vernon said.
Harry didn't answer. Vernon was always threatening, but would never go through with them. Seeing that Harry wasn't going to say him back, Vernon harrumphed and stomped back to his own bed. Well, that was Vernon's problem.
Harry went to his bed and pulled back the sheets and climbed in. He'd better get some sleep, though he didn't want to; dreams always plagued him as soon as he fell asleep. But he had to sleep some; after all he still had a bunch of homework to do.
Sometime in the middle of the night, a crash sounded in the kitchen. Harry sat up with a gasp. Something was in the house and it had better not be Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters…but they couldn't come here, could they? After all, Harry was protected here, in his mother's sister's home.
The sound crashed again and Harry jumped out of bed with his wand and went out into the hallway where he met Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley standing there huddling together, pale with fright.
"What's happening?" Harry asked them.
They shook their heads and Harry turned back to face the stairs. Whatever it was, he had to go face them, the Dursleys certainly were going to.
Going carefully downstairs, Harry finally reached the doorway of the kitchen. When he saw who was in there, Harry stared in shock. Then he began to laugh. It was the Weasley twins.