The menacing form of Lord Voldemort was standing over the thin, bespectacled boy, aiming a long, threatening wand at him. Harry Potter, whose muscles were aching fit to burst, once again pointed his own wand at Voldemort and shouted the only spell he could think of.

“Expelliarmus!”

Voldemort’s wand went flying out of his long, thin hand. Voldemort himself, however, didn’t flinch. He merely reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out another identical wand.

“Bet you didn’t realize how many tail feathers that phoenix gave away, did you?” sneered Voldemort in his high, icy voice. “You shouldn’t have believed what Ollivander said about there being only two, you silly, naïve child.”

Harry, much as his arm muscles were screaming in pain, raised his wand again and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

Once again �“ it seemed like for the hundredth time �“ Voldemort’s wand went flying. And once again, Voldemort calmly pulled a new one out of his pocket.

Harry feebly raised his own wand and croaked, “Expelliarmus!”

A second later, Voldemort’s latest wand was long gone, and Voldemort grabbed his next wand out of his pocket. “You cannot defeat me, Potter!” he shrieked gleefully. “There is not even any need for the Avada Kedavra curse! I have exactly twelve thousand five hundred and nine wands with me here, and long before I get to the last one, you will have died a slow, agonizing death of pure boredom, and I will be able to rule the world!”

Harry raised his wand, struggling to draw the breath to disarm Voldemort again, and woke up screaming. “AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”

He tried to calm down, take deep breaths, and let his eyes adjust to the dark. It was just one of the usual nightmares. A few seconds later, his eyes focused on his Uncle Vernon’s nose, which was inches from his own.

“What the ruddy hell are you screaming about?!” whispered Uncle Vernon. Harry could actually feel his bushy moustache bristling with rage. “This had better be something good! You woke me up from my favorite golfing dream again!”

“Just another nightmare,” Harry muttered. “Get out of my personal space, will you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!” growled Uncle Vernon. “I’m not the one who keeps waking up at night shouting for no reason.”

“I’ve got a lot of pent-up stress at the moment,” Harry said exasperatedly. He knew it was unlikely to do any good, but it seemed that he might as well try once again to reason with his uncle. “You see, I know that one of these days, maybe very soon, I’ll have to meet up with Voldemort again. And seeing as neither of us can live while the other survives, there seems to be a good chance that I’ll die. After all, normally there are four possibilities: that we both live, that he lives and I die, that I die and he lives, or that we both die. As I’ve explained to you before, the possibility that we both live is eliminated. So only one out of the three remaining possibilities involves �“ “

“DON’T YOU GET SMART WITH ME, BOY!” Uncle Vernon shouted. “You spend all your time sitting around feeling so damn sorry for yourself! Last summer it was that axe-murderer godfather of yours that you were moping over, and this year it’s one of your paranoid ideas about some guy you think is going to kill you! Doesn’t it occur to you that I might be under pressure as well? Last night I dreamt that I didn’t get the pay rise I wanted, and did I wake up the entire household because of it? One more nighttime scream out of you, boy, and you’ll be scrubbing the bathrooms twice a day for the rest of the summer! And I’ll know that you won’t use that… that thing of yours to help you, because you keep getting expelled every time you do use it!”

“I guess my only hope for cleaning the bathrooms will be that you don’t overeat at that drill thingy anniversary buffet again,” said Harry coolly.

“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon silkily, although the veins in his forehead looked ready to burst more violently than a mimbulus mimbultonia. “I’m locking you up again!” He was getting more excited now, breathing more heavily, and talking more and more rapidly. “I’m hiring someone to watch your window this time so that no Weasley loonies can come up with some freakish flying car! And I’m taking your… thing! So that even if you do decide to use you-know-what again and risk getting in trouble with your people’s wretched, incompetent government, at least I won’t have to deal with a peck, I mean a pack of owls nearly flying straight into my eyeballs!” He took a tissue out of his pocket and, holding it in his right hand, gingerly picked up Harry’s wand from his nightstand. Harry saw no way to resist.

Aunt Petunia came in. “What’s going on here?” she snapped.

“Oh, I’m just trying to teach the boy a lesson about getting clever with me,” said Uncle Vernon smugly. “Aren’t you impressed by my assertiveness, Petunia?”

“Actually, I’m not sure that punishing the boy is such a good idea, Vernon,” said Aunt Petunia, her thin, horsy face looking nervous. “Remember those people who threatened us when we picked Harry up last summer? If they come marching into the house, I’ll die of shame, especially if we haven’t had a chance to repaint the porch yet.”

“I’ll hire a guard to watch over the front door, too!” said Uncle Vernon. “I don’t care what it takes! Nobody makes fun of Vernon Dursley!” And with that, he walked out of the room with Harry’s wand, locked Harry in, and proceeded to barricade his room so that there was no way he could get out.

Harry could see no way out of his imprisonment this time without getting in trouble once again with the Ministry of Magic. He knew that members of the Order of the Phoenix would try to come for him sooner or later, but he had no way of knowing when, or how. He didn’t even have his owl Hedwig, as she was out hunting and now could not get back in. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, alternating between fantasies of wringing the neck of his aunt and uncle, then of Severus Snape, then of Dolores Umbridge, and occasionally of Voldemort.

Then, halfway through the second day of this confinement, Harry had an idea. There was a way of getting himself out of this situation without resorting to magic or even using a wand. He sat up in bed and whispered, “Kreacher? Dobby?”

There were two simultaneous cracks.

“Harry Potter, sir!” squeaked Dobby, his eyes staring up at Harry in admiration.

“Harry Potter, sir!” croaked Kreacher, his eyes staring up at Harry in revultion.

“I have a job for the two of you,” said Harry.

“Dobby will be glad to do anything for Harry Potter!” cried Dobby enthusiastically.

“Kreacher will also do anything for Harry Potter,” said Kreacher, not so enthusiastically, “but Kreacher really does not know what the world is coming to. Everywhere he goes is still full of mudbloods and half-breeds and other random pieces of filth. What is the point in living any longer?”

“If I don’t get out of here soon and get to work, there really won’t be any point in living any longer,” said Harry briskly, “so I want you two to help me get out of here. I want you to inform the Order of where I am and how impatient I am to destroy the Horcruxes and rid the world of the darkest wizard who ever existed. Well, don’t say anything about Horcruxes. And don’t make too big of a point of how impatient I am, or they won’t trust me. And don’t mention defeating the darkest wizard who ever existed, or they’ll think I’m full of myself. Just tell them that I really need to get out, because I’m slowly starving to death!”

“Right you are, Harry Potter sir!” squeaked Dobby, and he vanished with a loud crack.

Kreacher was not so prompt at disappearing. “Hmm, to whom from the Order shall Kreacher speak first, he wonders… perhaps Severus?”

“Don’t you dare even think about it!” shouted Harry, suddenly angry. “You know perfectly well that Snape isn’t part of the Order anymore, you numbskull! From now on, I forbid you to mention his name without putting a four-letter word in the same sentence! Now clear off!”

“Most unfortunately, Kreacher must do as he is told,” muttered the filthy house-elf, and with another loud crack, he disappeared.

Harry sat fuming. Any mention of Snape nowadays was likely to make his blood pressure rise, even more violently than it had ever done before. He decided to mentally play through his favorite fantasy of cursing Snape so that his greasy, hooked nose swelled exponentially. He was just getting to the part where his entire body was weighed down by the nose, which was scraping along a hot sidewalk baking in the July sun, when his thoughts were interrupted by Minerva McGonogall abruptly appearing in the room.

“Hello, Professor,” he said, grateful to finally see a wizard or witch again.

“Good afternoon, Potter,” said Professor McGonogall curtly, as she peered around the disorganized mess in the room through her square spectacles. “Don’t you ever clean up in here?”

“Could you skip the lecture please, Professor?” said Harry politely.

“Oh, very well,” sighed McGonogall. “Let’s see what I can do about getting you out of here.” She raised her wand and pointed it at the door. It swung open so quickly and easily that it looked like it might fly off its hinges. There was a stifled cry of pain from behind it, and Dudley’s porky face came into view. Dudley rubbed a rapidly swelling bruise on his head and let out a swear word.

“You go and wash your mouth out with soap, young Dursley,” said Professor McGonogall sternly. Dudley took one look at her and ran downstairs, shouting for his parents. A minute later, he came shuffling back upstairs with Aunt Petunia half-carrying him and Uncle Vernon bringing up the rear.

“What did she do to you, Diddy?” crooned Aunt Petunia. “Poor diddy Duddikins! Poor duddy Diddikins! Poor little dinky doddle Dookidins!”

“Have you hurt my son?” roared Uncle Vernon. “I’ll tear you limb from limb! I warn you, I’ve been trained in wrestling, and my son here is a Junior Inter-School Boxing Champion! You don’t want to go around messing with us!”

“I have no time for any funny business, Mr. Dursley,” said McGonogall coldly, over Dudley’s soft sobs as he leaned his head on his mother’s bosom. “The evil wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is at large, wreaking havoc upon both our world and the Muggle world. His especial target is Mr. Potter here, but not even such uber-Muggles as yourselves are safe in these dark times.”

Dudley wailed even more loudly. “I don’t want some evil you-know-what to attack us! I d-don’t want to d-d-die! I h-haven’t even g-gotten to try out my new Nintendo game y-y-yet!”

“Don’t worry, my darling diddle Dudderfus!” cried Aunt Petunia tearfully. “Mummy won’t let him destroy you!”

“I’m not really supposed to use magic on you,” said McGonogall, who was clearly becoming more and more impatient, “and I’m not as good at side-along Apparition as Dumbledore was, and Harry can’t legally Apparate by himself yet. So it would be most considerate of you to cooperate. Kindly step aside and allow myself and Mr. Potter to pass.”

Aunt Petunia and Dudley stepped aside, but Uncle Vernon stood his ground. “I will not let that boy get away so easily!” he barked. “I’m afraid it is time that he paid consequences for his actions!”

Just then, there was a crack like a whip, and an anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley Apparated into the room, wearing an apron. “What’s keeping you two?” she said. “Supper is getting stone cold, you know.”

“Sorry, Molly,” sighed McGonogall, looking over at her. “It’s just that these Muggles are having trouble with the concept of common courtesy. They’re just as Albus described them. I bet they wouldn’t invite me in or offer me refreshments if I surprised them at eleven in the evening, either.”

“What a sloppy room,” remarked Mrs. Weasley.

“Will you all give it a rest about the room!” cried Harry in exasperation as he started to pack.

“Come on, Vernon,” wheedled Aunt Petunia to Uncle Vernon, who was still standing in the way of McGonogall and Harry, swelled up indignantly. “Wouldn’t it be better to let him go? After all, we’ll never have to see him again. He turns seventeen in a week or two, remember? And think on the bright side. At least these people haven’t wrecked our fireplace or blown up any members of our family this time.”

Harry could see the usual inner conflict within Uncle Vernon, who was clearly fighting between the desire to oppose whatever Harry wanted and the desire to be rid of him forever at last. Finally, Uncle Vernon began to say, in a rather choked voice, “True, they haven’t even so much as exploded a pudding.” Just as he said it, however, there was a huge crunching sound, and the window shattered.

“Uh-oh,” said Harry to himself, although he couldn’t help grinning at the same time.

“What’s takin’ yeh so long?” grunted the voice of Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant Hogwarts gamekeeper from outside the window. “Come on, let me carry yeh outta here!”

Uncle Vernon muttered, “Mimblewimble!” and ran out of the room. Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed suit. McGonogall and Mrs. Weasley both glared at Hagrid, looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and Disapparated. Harry jumped out of the window and didn’t fall far before landing in Hagrid’s arms. A second later, Harry’s wand went flying out the window, thrown out, no doubt, in disgust by Uncle Vernon, and Harry caught it.

“There, take your thing!” came Uncle Vernon’s voice from out of the broken window. “And don’t ever show your disorderly-looking head at our doorstep again!”

“I’ll miss you too, Uncle Vernon,” said Harry gleefully, waving up at him.

Hagrid started walking briskly down Privet Drive, trampling a few squirrels in the process.

“How’ve yeh bin, Harry?” said Hagrid. “Seriously, yeh should talk to Grawp, yeh wouldn’ believe how smart he’s gettin’ nowadays. He’s studyin’ second-year calculus now, although he still has a little trouble remembering the dif’rence between sines and cosines.”

“Thanks for everything, Hagrid,” said Harry gratefully as Hagrid bore him across the street to where a grouchy-looking Auror stood waiting to escort him back to the Burrow at last.