Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters previously mentioned in the Harry Potter series. Any new names mentioned in this series are my own creation. I am not making a profit from this story and am doing this for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of those who read it.

The sun crept lazily over the horizon in Surrey one morning in late June. Privet Drive began to stir as the people who lived there woke from their nightly slumbers. This street was normally quiet and peaceful in the early morning hours, but this morning was different; at least for one house.

Number four Privet drive was a hive of activity and excitement as the occupants inside scrambled around making special preparations. This was a special day in this house and everyone was eager to make sure that all was perfect.

Every body except one.

Harry Potter stuffed his head beneath his pillow for the fifth time since the noise had began at around 6:30. It was the only way he could think of to block out part of the noise from the halls and downstairs. Today was his cousin’s, Dudley Dursley’s, sixteenth birthday. The last time he had checked his watch, it had read at barely 7:20. Harry could hardly believe that his uncle and aunt were up this early, even for Dudley. They had always been content to have a mid-morning breakfast followed by an afternoon outing to a place of Dudley’s choosing. Vernon and Petunia Dursley had always made such a fuss for anything that had anything to do with their son.

Harry began to fall short of breath, the pillow still over his head and his face pressed into the sheets. He, reluctantly, pulled it out from underneath. Harry could not sleep with all the noise being made, so he made the decision to get dressed. He put on a pair of jeans and an old shirt, both of which had belonged to Dudley at one point and were, therefore, too large for Harry’s small build. He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was standing over the stove, all four burners working hard on different pans of pancakes, sausage, bacon and eggs. Harry had not seen a feast like this in the Dursley’s home for quite some time, as Petunia had encouraged her husband and son to start eating healthier foods. She was obviously willing to make an exception for her son’s special day.

Harry took a seat at the family table across from his rotund uncle, Vernon. The older man had his face buried in the morning newspaper, stopping only long enough to poke his eyes over the paper to give his nephew a menacing glare. “Go help your aunt,” he said, coldly. Harry got up from the table and went over to the counter, where he picked up a plate of freshly cooked bacon and warm bagels. He carried them over and set them on the table, then went over to the refrigerator to retrieve a jug of orange juice. Once Petunia had finished with the pancakes, sausage and eggs, she set them on plates and put them on the table. As she left the kitchen to fetch Dudley, Vernon set his paper down and stared at Harry. “Listen to me, boy”, he said in an icy voice. “This is a special day for my family and I will not have you ruining it with your ways. Understand?” Harry nodded.

By “his ways”, Uncle Vernon was referring to Harry’s magical abilities. Harry Potter was a wizard and a right good one at that. Though he was considered an underage wizard, Harry’s powers had a funny way of manifesting themselves at the oddest of times. Given previous events, Harry knew that he would have to be very careful.

After a sparse breakfast, for Harry anyway, the family cleaned up and piled into the car. At breakfast, Vernon had announced that they would not be able to take Dudley to anyplace extravagant this year, much to Dudley’s annoyance. Vernon told everyone that they would be spending the day at the zoo. Dudley was mildly less annoyed at this idea. He loved going to the zoo, but his memories of the events that happened on his eleventh birthday still haunted him. He was not, however, going to let his parents think they could get away with a less then extravagant outing on his day. He began to sulk and mumble under his breath for about ten minutes before Vernon let a hint slip that they might stop by an auto dealership on the way home. Dudley’s expression brightened at the prospect of a new car.

For what seemed like an eternity, Harry endured the long car ride next to his cousin, who kept prattling on and on about what kind of car would make him the envy of everyone else at his school. To keep his sanity, Harry began to think of things that interested him. It took only a second before he thought of the wizard world that he was a part of. He thought of his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry had only received a few letters from each of them over the last month; likewise he had only sent a few letters himself. They had done their best to keep Harry informed about the war effort against Voldemort, the resurrected Dark Wizard, but they knew little more than he did. Harry began to think of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a place that held some of Harry’s best, and worst, memories. He thought of the of the teachers, some of which he liked and some he wished he could forget, and of the students. His fellow Gryffindors invaded his mind; Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, and…

Harry shook his mind as a particular face entered his mind. No, he thought. I can’t let myself get distracted. Harry did not have long after that to let himself get distracted as Uncle Vernon pulled into the zoo’s parking lot. As they all walked along the paths along the tiger’s pit, Harry started to distance himself from the Dursley’s. As he walked, his mind turned once again to Hogwarts; this time to the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The wise old wizard was a great man and a friend to all. Dumbledore had taken great measures to ensure Harry’s safety over the years and was always ready with some piece of advice that was life-saving. However, at the end of last term, Harry had not left the school on the best of terms with the old man. He knew that Dumbledore would hold no grudges against Harry, no matter how many insults he threw at him, how many times Harry had yelled at him. Dumbledore was a very tolerant man.

In all his thoughts, Harry had grown unaware of the people around him. As he leaned over the stonewall of the animal’s pit, a man was creeping up behind him. Harry did not have the slightest inclination that his life was in danger until he heard a voice.

“Crucio”