The Golden Timepiece

Tanya

With a start Draco sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Tentatively he touched his forehead and swore slightly under his breath. Damn it. Potter was the one who was supposed to get these dreams, not him. He tried to concentrate on what the dream had been about. It was certainly a weird one. There had been lots of people that he knew, but they were all grown up, most of them in their early twenties. Granger had been there; Weasley and his little sister were there as well. He was there too (he had been glad to see he still had his blond hair) and someone else who looked vaguely like Sirius Black. There was someone there as well someone his own age. Draco closed his eyes and tried to remember. That was it! Potter! It had been Potter! He was sure of it now.

It still didn't make any sense, how come everyone was and adult and Potter was still 14? And why was he hanging around with Potter's friends? Why was he even dreaming about them? Perhaps it was meant to mean something like Potter seriously needed a growth spurt.

Draco snickered to himself at the thought (he tended to forget that he was the same height as Harry).

He stopped laughing and listened. It was quiet but a nice type of quiet. A slight breeze was blowing through the room and Draco could hear an owl hooting in the distance. The feeling was calming and Draco could not help but feel sleepy.

Slightly uneasy but unwilling to think about the dream anymore, he slipped into a deep sleep.

*

Harry lay down on the soft grass and allowed himself a brief rest. After all, he figured, he deserved it. He had been weeding the garden all morning and was, quite frankly, getting sick of it. Hadn't the Dursleys ever heard of weed-killer? It was probably just another excuse to give him another job.

Dudley had been out to watch Harry twice today, always eating some sweet or licking an ice cream and, by the sound of it, he was coming out now.

A shadow fell over Harry and he opened his eyes quickly. Dudley Dursley's huge form was standing over him. Harry stood up quickly, he didn't really fancy a kick in the ribs, and started weeding vigorously, watching Dudley apprehensively. Dudley stood there for a while, watching Harry and licking his ice cream. Harry never took his eyes off him; it was a bit like watching an unexploded bomb

Painfully slowly Dudley licked his ice-cream once, regarded Harry and said,

"Who's Cedric?"

The effect of these two words was astounding. Harry stopped weeding and stepped back in shock. He managed to croak out, "What did you say?"

Dudley carried on, totally oblivious to what was happening to Harry. "I heard you talking about him in your sleep something about Avada Kedavra what's that mean?"

Harry didn't hear the question; his mind was somewhere else lost in memories.

He saw Cedric down at the lake, swimming along with Cho in his arms. He saw him with his dad at the Quidditch World Cup. He saw him in the graveyard, lying still still as still

Harry started shaking uncontrollably. Dudley stopped licking his ice cream and looked at Harry in an almost concerned fashion.

"Um Harry?" he said.

Harry's head snapped up at Dudley and he looked at him with dim eyes.

"Get out," he said in a dangerous whisper. Dudley didn't move. "NOW!" Harry shouted.

Dudley gave a frightened squeak and ran from the garden, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave. Harry sank to his knees and put his hands on the ground, breathing heavily, trying to gain control.

*

It was a few hours before Harry left the garden, weak, shaking and covered in dirt. He had climbed upstairs, ignoring Aunt Petunia's shrieks about the mess and collapsed in his bed.

And now he sat there, quill in hand, surveying the letter before him.

Dear Snuffles,

Thanks for the last letter. Is that Lupin's owl you're using? Tell him I said hi.

I haven't had any dreams lately and my scar hasn't hurt at all but if Voldemort does decide to do anything I want to be prepared. I want

This was where the letter finished. Harry stared at it for a while, trying to get his courage up (he was a Gryffindor for god's sake!) then wrote,

I want you to teach me Avada Kedavra.

Harry

Harry looked at the letter doubtfully but before he could change his mind he called Hedwig over and attached the parchment to her foot.

"Take this to Sirius. Don't stop for anything!" he warned her.

Hedwig fluffed up her feathers importantly and hooted, as though proud to have such important orders, and flew out of the open window. Harry watched her disappear into the distance, trying to resist the urge to call her back. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea

But Harry had to do something; he couldn't try and ignore Voldemort now that he had full strength. And as much as he hated to admit Harry didn't think he was prepared to face him.

The other years when Harry had been in danger hadn't been so bad. There was never anyone in risk. No wait, he corrected himself, there had been but he had always managed to save them. In second year they had all thought Ginny was dead. That had been awful, waiting in the common room with Ron and the twins but it had been all right in the end. Harry had managed to save her. And there had been Sirius as well; Harry and Hermione had saved him from the Dementor's Kiss just in time. It had just been an adventure, nothing to be taken seriously, and when it was all over everyone would just carry on with their lives.

But not last year last year was different. It hadn't been fun, someone had died and it was all Harry's fault. He hadn't been able to save Cedric like he had done before. Harry had been useless, lying on the ground clutching his scar, no help to anyone. And now Cedric was dead because of him. What made it worse was the fact that Harry had persuaded Cedric to take the Cup with him, if he had just been the tiniest bit selfish and taken it himself but he hadn't. He had to be so selfless, playing the hero.

Hermione and Ron had been treating him like he was made of glass ever since the Triwizard tournament, looking at him like he was about to snap any instance. Harry admitted that they were close to the truth, sometimes he felt like cursing everyone in sight. Their letters had been surprisingly frigid, talking about general subjects like school and complaining about parents and siblings. Neither one of them seemed ready to approach the subject of what had happened with him and Voldemort. Not that Harry minded, he liked to keep things to himself and if they didn't want to know anything then that was fine by him.

A noise snapped Harry out of his thoughts and he stopped abruptly, listening carefully. He sighed in relief; it was just Aunt Petunia making dinner.

Well, what were you expecting? A couple of Voldemort's Deatheaters to come charging in?

Truth be told, that was exactly what he had been expecting. Harry had been feeling like he was on tenterhooks the whole summer. Voldemort was back to full strength, he should be doing something, letting people know he was back. But there had been nothing, no dreams, no scar pains, nothing. It was almost as though Voldemort was planning something, it was making Harry uneasy.

Downstairs Harry heard Aunt Petunia call Uncle Vernon and Dudley for dinner. He waited for his name but it never came.

Fine, Harry thought irritably, I didn't want any dinner anyway; it's probably just rabbit food again.

He just hoped that if he got a bit skinny Ron, Hermione and Sirius wouldn't go off their rocker like they normally did whenever something happened to him

Harry glanced out of the window, it was still light outside. He yawned and suddenly realised how tired he was. It was only 6 o'clock but maybe he should just rest his eyes just for a moment

*

Draco surveyed the scene around. Life couldn't be better, he decided. He was sitting by a pool, the sun was shining, and there was no one to bother him. Draco scowled at this; he'd had enough of father's friends dropping by for meetings. Not that he would ever complain; he wasn't stupid.

Draco squirmed uneasily in his deck chair and settled himself in a more comfortable position. He watched the pool water lazily through half-closed eyelids. Slowly they drooped until Draco was sound asleep.

"Now, if you could just swallow this Harry."

Draco looked around himself in shock. He was standing in the corner of a dark room that closely resembled a dungeon. The Weasley's sister, Granger and the man that resembled Sirius Black were all standing around a boy in a chair. It was Potter, he was bound to the chair by black cords and he looked absolutely petrified. Draco wanted to do something to help but he knew he couldn't, this was a dream.

"Come on, just a little swallow," said the man resembling Sirius Black, waving the bottle tantalizingly in front of Potter. Potter didn't move and the man reached forward and pinched Potter's nose. Potter shut his mouth but Draco could see that he couldn't hold his breath for much longer. Weasley's sister started forward and try to pull the man off Potter. Draco noticed Granger wasn't doing anything.

"Stop it Sirius! He's going blue!" she cried.

But Sirius Black shook his head and threw her off him easily. He was watching Potter carefully. Suddenly Potter opened his mouth and took a deep breath. At the same time Sirius Black tipped the whole contents of the bottle in his mouth. Potter choked and spluttered but Draco had a feeling he had already swallowed some.

Sirius Black was smiling and leaning back on the chair; Potter slumped into his chair and the room around Draco turned grey and fuzzy.

Draco felt himself slipping into the world where Harry was and with great effort he pulled himself out and opened his eyes, breathing heavily. He managed to calm down within a few minutes but he could still remember the dark room.

So he had been wrong about life being perfect. It was far from it, the dreams had been coming in alarming frequency since the first night and he was having trouble sleeping. He had even had these visions when he was awake and this was prompting curious questions from his father.

But despite the unusual frequency of these dreams no story seemed to be emerging. Whenever Draco woke up he could only remember bits of it, he couldn't even remember the dream he had had two seconds ago. The most he could remember about any of these dreams was that there had been an adult Weasley and his sister, Granger, himself, that man resembling Sirius Black and a 14 year old Potter. That was as much as he could remember. It made no sense, it was like a memory but not his there didn't seem to be any sort of message in the dreams, they were inconsistent and without any pattern.

He dimly wondered whether he should ask someone about these dreams. Potter would probably know what they were about, but he was damned if he was going to ask him for help.

His mother called from inside. "Draco! Lunch is ready!"

Despite himself Draco grimaced. The new house elf mother had hired to do the cooking was nowhere near as good as the last one. He'd bet it'd made caviar again. That was all he ever ate these days

*

It was late afternoon when Harry woke up. The sun was shining through his eyelids and making his eyes water. He moaned and turned over but it was no use, he was already awake.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. That must have been one of the only nights he had got sleep. He hadn't realised how tired he was. During the whole summer he had been plagued with nightmares. Not Voldemort ones, they were just normal dreams mostly about Cedric. But they were still enough to guarantee him sleepless nights.

Hedwig hooted. Harry glanced over at her and smiled. She just stared at him accusingly. She must have been waiting here all morning Harry realised. There was a letter tied to her foot. Harry reached over and untied it. It was from Sirius! Harry wasn't too sure if this was a good thing, he had a feeling Sirius hadn't reacted too well to his question.

He unrolled the parchment.

Dear Harry (he read)

What were you thinking! Harry, you cannot use dark magic against dark wizards. It is not an option. I want you to put this out of your head. You are safe at Privet drive and you are safe at Hogwarts. There is no need to worry; Dumbledore will take care of everything.

Take care,

Snuffles

Harry let the letter drop from his fingers. Of course, he thought bitterly, Sirius would conveniently forget the Triwizard tournament and all the other years when something life-threatening has happened to me. He wasn't safe at Hogwarts; he knew he needed something to protect himself. It was just that Sirius thought Dumbledore would always be there to protect him.

"Ouch!"

Hedwig had nipped his finger. Harry glared reproachfully at her and his eyes flicked down to the parchment tied to her other foot.

"Have you got another letter, Hedwig?" Harry said and he reached over and untied it. The parchment rolled out and he started reading.

Hey Harry!

I've talked to mum and she says you can come over to my place for the rest of the holidays! We've checked with Dumbledore and he seems to think it's alright. I've invited Hermione too. I hope you don't mind having your birthday over here for a change (if you do you must be mad). You've got to tell me what you want when you get here, Hermione doesn't have a clue either.

But while you're here we've got a BIG surprise planned. A REALLY REALLY big surprise. You'll be getting picked up on the 8th at about 2 o'clock. We were going to pick you up but Dumbledore said he'd handle it. Something about safety and You-know-who blah blah blah.

Owl if the muggles are giving you grief.

Ron

Harry smiled to himself. Then his smile faltered, the Dursleys. He would have to tell them, much as he would like to disappear into thin air he had a feeling they would clean out his room and any sign he'd ever been there. Better now than never, Harry thought. He would have to ask them.

Harry sauntered down the steps in what he hoped was a genial and unthreatening walk. If the worst came to the worst he could always casually mention Sirius.

His aunt looked up as Harry stepped into the kitchen. She was cooking something that smelt like cookie dough. She obviously hadn't heard that Dudley's diet was still continuing. Dudley was sat there watching her, his little piggy eyes fixed on the dough.

"What do you want?" asked Aunt Petunia irritably.

"Umm " started Harry. Aunt Petunia always had a way of unnerving him

"Well?" she snapped. Dudley turned around on his seat and stared at him with a look that clearly said 'You are going to get into so much trouble'.

Harry took a deep breath and tried again. "One of my friends has invited me over to his house over the holidays. I was just asking for permission to go."

Aunt Petunia's glare turned to a look of horror. "Not those awful Weasleys from last year?"

Harry resisted the urge to smile; now Aunt Petunia didn't have that to stop him from going. "No, someone else."

Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes. "Who?" she said carefully.

"I'm not too sure Ron didn't say."

Aunt Petunia snorted. Dudley spoke up. "You don't have any friends. I know - because they never write to you."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but remembered his promise not to let Hedwig out and that he also had to be nice if he had any hope of getting out of here.

Aunt Petunia ignored Dudley and stared intently at Harry.

"They won't be coming through the fireplace again?" Harry could tell he had already won the battle.

"I guarantee it," he said. Please don't let Dumbledore take Floo powder, please

"When are they taking you?"

"The 8th."

"Oh-kay then," said Aunt Petunia slowly. "But you have to behave until they get here and that means finishing off the garden! Now get back to work!"

Harry hopped over Dudley's outstretched foot and ran into the garden. Well, at least that was over and done with, he thought.

*

Harry leaned against the garden rake and stopped to survey the garden. It was all finished to Aunt Petunia's liking. It had taken almost 2 weeks but he had done it in the end. The marigolds on the right, the lavender on the left

Wait a second marigolds on the right, lavender on the left! Harry's hand flew up to his mouth, he had got it wrong. The flowers were on the wrong sides.

Harry looked towards the house. Maybe if he could put them back in the right places in time.

"Boy!"

Harry froze. He could just see Uncle Vernon's huge figure making its way to the door. The door flung open and Uncle Vernon strode out into the garden.

"Boy!" he yelled. "Have you finished that garden yet? I need it perfect for some clients that are coming over."

Harry terrified expression must have given something away because as soon as Uncle Vernon saw Harry properly he stopped. His eyes narrowed.

"What have you done now boy? What's wrong with the garden?" his eyes swept across the lawn, looking for spilt compost, brown plants or any imperfections like that. At last his eyes settled on the marigolds. His jaw clenched and he strode over to Harry and grabbed hold of his shoulders. Harry dropped his rake in fright.

"YOU STUPID BOY!" shouted Uncle Vernon, shaking Harry like a rag doll. "YOU PUT THE FLOWERS ON THE WRONG SIDE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT THAT WAS! WE NEEDED THAT GARDEN PERFECT!"

"Get off me!" Harry yelled. He'd had enough of being pushed around by the Dursleys. He shoved Uncle Vernon's hands off his shoulders and turned around to leave.

Uncle Vernon stood there, stunned for a moment but not for long. He grabbed Harry and turned him around. Harry glared back at him and Uncle Vernon lifted his hand and slapped Harry around the face. Harry staggered back under the force of the blow, one hand held up to his cheek. Harry looked up at his uncle, is breathing ragged and his fury barely contained. Before he really knew what he was doing he pulled back his fist and struck his uncle square in the face.

Uncle Vernon gave a roar of rage and barrelled into Harry, knocking him to the ground, hitting him everywhere he could.

"YOU'VE RUINED OUT LIVES FOR LONG ENOUGH!" yelled Uncle Vernon and he hit Harry in the stomach, making him double over from pain. "WE. SHOULD. NEVER. HAVE. TAKEN. YOU. IN," he yelled, hitting Harry on each word.

Harry was on the grass now and his feeble attempts were doing nothing to stop Uncle Vernon. His face was wet with tears and each fresh bolt of pain made him feel like throwing up.

"Stop stop," he pleaded but Uncle Vernon ignored him and continued to throw punches at him. Uncle Vernon's face was red with anger and the punches felt like iron fists to Harry.

Unbeknownst to Harry the back door opened and two figures looked out on the scene. Dudley's eyes were wide and he could barely contain his horror, his mother's face was white and her hand was covering her mouth in shock.

"Stop!" Dudley yelled.

Uncle Vernon looked up at the sound and saw that he had an audience. The corners of his mouth turned down but he stomped out of the garden, openly displaying his disgust at being interrupted.

Harry was sitting up on the grass now, one hand holding a limp arm. His left eye was red and tears were streaming from it.

Dudley and his mother stood there, uncertain what to do now that Uncle Vernon was gone. Aunt Petunia crept forward hesitantly. Harry ignored her.

"Can I see your arm?" she asked. She had a strong suspicion what was wrong with it.

Harry nodded but he didn't move it. Aunt Petunia knelt down beside his and touched it gently; Harry yelled with pain but kept his arm where it was. Aunt Petunia stood up and looked at Dudley.

"We're going to have to take him to hospital, his arm's broken."

*

The nurse leaned over Harry and looked straight into his eyes. Harry couldn't see her clearly; his glasses had been taken off him.

"We're going to have to put you under general anaesthetic," she said. "The needle shouldn't hurt a bit."

Harry nodded, because he didn't have anything else to do. The nurse held up the needle and a clear liquid shot out of it. Harry held out his wrist and squeezed his eyes shut briefly as the needle slid through his skin. The nurse stood back and watched him.

Nothing happened. Maybe it's gone wrong? Harry thought.

He cleared his throat. "Nothing's happening," he said.

"Don't worry, it'll just take a while for the anaesthetic to take affect. Try counting backwards from one hundred."

"Okay," Harry said. "100. 99. 98," why was his head feeling so heavy? "97 96 " what came next? Harry couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. As they shut Harry felt someone place a mask over his face before he lost consciousness.

*

The nurses and doctors stood chatting over the table where Harry lay.

"I don't know " one of them said. "He's certainly an enigma. He's got all these bruises over his body and his arm was broken in several places, as though it was hit repeatedly."

"You don't suspect child abuse do you?" said one of the doctors.

The other one shook his head. "I'm not saying for certain. The mother and brother certainly seemed like a loving family. His mother was so distraught when she brought him in. Maybe it's just some kids at school?"

"Kids couldn't do this," said the nurse that had given Harry the general anaesthetic.

"And what about that scar on his head? How long do you think he's had that?"

"Years. He's probably had that for most of his life."

"How did he seem when he came in?"

"He looked pretty out of it, which I'm sure anyone would have been like if they'd suffered the beating he has," the surgeon paused here. "But he did look unsure of the his mother and brother like he didn't trust them."

"Where's the father?"

"Dunno, the mother didn't mention anything about a father."

"He doesn't bear much resemblance to those two, does he?" said the nurse, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the window.

"Do you think those are his blood relatives?"

The nurse shrugged. "Maybe I should go ask them "

The other four nodded. "Yeah, you go do that," said one of the assistants.

*

"Excuse me Mrs Dursley?"

Mrs Dursley looked up, her arms were wrapped tightly around her other son. "Yes?" she said.

"We'd like to ask you some questions Mrs Dursley. Is that alright?"

Mrs Dursley nodded.

"Do you have any idea how your son broke his arm?" asked the nurse.

"He's not my son, he's my nephew. His parents died in a car crash."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, it was years ago," she said.

"Do you know what happened?" the nurse asked again.

Mrs Dursley nodded and said "Harry was having trouble settling into his high school, there were always problems with a particular bunch of lads but I never suspected they were actually hurting him. Then, today he said he was going down to the town. He was away for quite a long while and I was worried about him.

"Then, he turned up on my doorstep with his broken arm and everything and I knew, I just knew it was those bunch of lads. Harry's always been like a son to me and I can't bear to think of anyone hurting him " she broke off with a sob and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

The nurse felt quite embarrassed that she had caused Mrs Dursley's tears. "Thank you Mrs Dursley, that was all we needed to know," and she turned and walked away.

"Nurse!" Mrs Dursley called out. The nurse turned around. "Could you tell us when he wakes up? My son is very worried about him."

Her son had fixed his face into what was probably meant to be a devastated look.

The nurse smiled "Don't worry Mrs Dursley, we will."

*

It was around 12 o'clock, just a day after the day at the hospital. The hospital had fixed his arm into a sling but they hadn't been able to do anything about his bruises and black eye. Dudley and Aunt Petunia had been ignoring him but Uncle Vernon was taking every opportunity to warn Harry of what would happen if he put another toe out of line.

Harry had left the house to get away from them but even then he was only allowed an hour.

The library was one of the only places where Harry could get away from the Dursley family, besides the cupboard, but Harry was too big to fit into that anymore anyway.

Harry eased open the door to the library so as not too cause excessive noise (the librarian reminded him a lot of Madame Pince). The library was very small, a while ago some people had complained and the council had said they were going to build a new library, a big stone one, but that had never happened and so they were stuck with this library for now.

The moment Harry stepped in he knew it was a mistake. Everyone in the library turned around to stare at him. With his black eye and the sling Harry supposed he must look like one of those thugs that always got into gangs fights. But it was too late now; if he left straight away he would look even more stupid.

Harry took a deep breath and walked over to the teenage section in what he hoped was a cool and uncaring manner. He grabbed a random book off the shelf and sat on a table opposite a girl his own age. She had scraggly mousey brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail and a dirty jacket on. She stared at him curiously over the book she was holding. Harry gave her an encouraging smile but, probably due to his split lip, she didn't look at all reassured by this.

Harry opened his book and started reading it. Oh great, Point Romance. Now she probably thought he was some kind of pervert as well as a thug. He was just about to get up and get another book when he noticed the girl was looking straight at him.

"What happened to you?"

"Um - "

"Problems at home?" she cut in.

Harry looked uncomfortable, then he said, "Yeah, I suppose you could say that "

"What about that scar then?"

Harry pushed his hair up so she could she it. He watched her carefully. There was no reaction. She must be Muggle then, he thought. "Car crash when I was little," he explained.

The girl nodded. "I'm Tanya," she said. "You?"

"Harry Potter."

"Nice name," Tanya said and she pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. "Want one?" she asked, shaking the packet in Harry's face.

"I don't smoke."

"Very wise. But I expected you to be a little more tougher the way you look now," Tanya looked at Harry meaningfully then got up, and grabbed her books heading towards the door. As she walked she pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. She was out of the door before the librarian even noticed.

That was strange, Harry thought. He looked down at his book. He had better swap it for something else

*

It was a few days after Harry had met Tanya in the library. He'd been outside since then, hoping to find her around the village but there had been no such luck.

Harry wandered around the park; it wasn't his favourite place to be but the library was getting far too repetitive and he wasn't really interested in books anymore. Tanya had been the only thing he had been thinking about since he had met her.

Near the road Harry could see a figure sitting on the wall, casually holding a cigarette in one hand. Tanya! His heart leapt and he started walking a little faster towards her. She looked up as he approached, one hand held over her eyes as she squinted against the sun. She smiled and Harry grinned back, a proper grin, his lip had healed by now.

"Well well well," Tanya said with an exaggerated drawl. "If it isn't-" she stopped to take a drag from her cigarette. "-Harry Potter. Sit down," she said, motioning to the wall.

Harry hoisted himself up onto the wall and started swinging his legs awkwardly.

"Want one?" asked Tanya, holding out the packet of cigarettes to him.

Harry shook his head. "I already told you, I don't smoke."

"Oh come on. Have you ever tried it before?"

"No-o "

"So you wont know unless you try!" Tanya said triumphantly. "Go on," she said, and she pushed him with her shoulder slightly. "Live a little."

Harry hesitated, staring at the packet uncertainly. What harm could it do?

"Okay," he said and he pulled out a cigarette and held it in his left hand for Tanya to light. He was just about to put it in his mouth when she interrupted him.

"No!" she yelled, pulling Harry's hand down. "You don't hold it like that, you look like you're holding a pen. This is how you hold," and she demonstrated how to hold the cigarette between two fingers. "Now, shove it in your mouth and take a deep breath."

Harry placed the cigarette between his lips, breathed in the smoke and started coughing immediately. Tanya looked over at him concernedly and thumped him hard on his back.

"Are you okay?" she asked once his coughing fit had subsided. Harry looked over at her in disbelief. He nodded weakly, coughed once more then sat up straight as if nothing had happened.

"It gets easier," Tanya assured him.

"I suppose so " said Harry and he stopped to take a drag from the cigarette, this time without the coughing fit. "It feels it feels okay. My head feels really light."

Tanya grinned at him. "That's what it's meant to feel like."

Harry didn't say anything; he just concentrated on not coughing. Sitting here with Tanya and a cigarette in his hand, Harry felt suddenly very tough. With Tanya beside him Harry felt invincible, not even Dudley and his gang would cross him with her here. Harry hadn't really experienced being on the other side of the law but that was what Tanya did all the time or maybe he was just assuming.

A mother pushing a pram gave Tanya and Harry a dirty look as she passed, as though she expected Tanya to be a teen mother. Harry felt bursting into laughter, he must look even more like a thug now, cigarette in hand and the broken arm and bruises.

"You know," said Tanya. "I've never seen you around here before."

"I've never seen you around here either," retorted Harry.

"So you've been here most of your life."

Harry stopped to contemplate this. "I don't remember being anywhere else but I've been here ever since I was one. I live my Aunt and Uncle."

"Tough luck," said Tanya. "What happened to your parents? Did they bugger off?"

"I suppose you could that," Harry didn't really feel like correcting her. It is sort-of true, he thought. "What about you?" he asked, anxious to get off the subject.

Tanya looked down at the ground. "I-I've never been good at getting along with people, especially my family."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just didn't have the knack. I didn't like school, so I used to skip it. Even when my parents knew I was playing truant, there was nothing they could do to stop me. If they left me at school in the morning, I'd slip off somewhere at break and do a bunk. The other kids hated me because I was different and I hated them because they weren't."

Tanya stopped and Harry stayed silent.

"And as time went by I stopped bothering to go home. When I did turn up from time to time they used to get into this awful flap and talk about borstals and reform schools, so I thought it best to just stay out of the way."

"Don't you ever go back and visit?"

"Oh, yes. I still turn up for their birthdays and Christmas, things like that. After a while they just accepted it and stopped asking questions. And I spend a lot of time in the libraries. Sometimes I'd meet someone on the way and hang around with them for a while. But I've never had a real friend."

"Not even me?" Harry said, putting on a sad face.

Tanya laughed, instantly back to her old self and pushed him in the shoulder, almost sending his cigarette flying. "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched!" Tanya said. "If you really want to know, I am just hanging out with you for purely personal reasons," she said, putting on a posh accent.

"And what's that?"

"You're my bodyguard! With all those bruises you look so tough no-one's going to touch me!"

"Huh," said Harry, for lack of anything else to say. He and Tanya swung their legs and smoked their cigarettes in silence. Finally Harry voiced a question he had been thinking about. "But don't you ever get scared? Out on the streets on your own?"

"You don't really think about it, if you got too caught up in how scary it was then you wouldn't last a night."

Harry looked down at his watch. "Uh-oh," he said.

"What?"

"I'd better get back. My friend's picking me up in 15 minutes." Harry looked at Tanya. "Maybe you could-"

Tanya held up a hand. "Don't say 'write to me'. I'm no good at writing letters. I'll just see you-"

"Next year," Harry finished for her. "I go to a boarding school."

"Boarding school, huh? Didn't think there were any left. I'll see you next year then."

Harry stood up and tossed the cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his feet. Tanya nodded in approval. "Nice touch," she said.

Harry started to walk away but Tanya called out his name. "Hey Harry!" she yelled. "You forgot this," and she held out the packet of cigarettes.

"But-"

"Stop being so polite, I can get another packet easy. You'll need 'em if you get stressed. Just make sure the teachers don't find out, and if they do, I don't know you."

Harry grinned. "Sure."

"See ya Harry!" yelled Tanya, as he was walking away. Harry turned around and waved, then turned around and started running. 10 minutes

*

Harry had made it. As soon as he'd got home he had run upstairs to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth, flossed them, and brushed them again. He had also grabbed some Febreze from the kitchen and sprayed it all over his clothes. The cigarettes were safely hidden at the bottom of his trunk.

He checked his teeth in the mirror to see if they looked yellow then breathed into his hand and smelt it. There wasn't even the slightest hint of smoke. Humming happily Harry ran down the stairs, sat down on the last step and waited and waited ... and waited.

He looked down at his watch. Dumbledore was 10 minutes late! He peeked nervously out of the window. Nothing. He sat down on the steps and stared at the door. It was a good thing the Dursleys weren't here, they had left a few hours ago.

Outside Harry thought he heard a car pull up, or possibly a bus. He lifted his head off his hand and stared somewhat nervously at the door. Footsteps walked up to the house and someone rapped smartly on the door. Harry ran up and opened it with his left hand. A man dressed in black uniform was standing outside. Harry could see a black car parked behind him.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the man asked.

Harry nodded. He noticed that the man's eyes lingered on his sling and black eye.

"I am John Atkins at your service Mr Potter. I have been sent here by Dumbledore to escort you to the Weasley's house."

"Okay I'll just go get my suitcase then-"

"No need!" cried out John Atkins. "I'll get it for you!" He pushed past Harry and grabbed Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"If I might say so myself sir. You have a magnificent owl," he said as they walked over to the car.

"Er thanks." Harry was unsure what to say to this comment.

John Atkins ("call me Atkins") opened the door to the car and bowed deeply. Harry looked at him doubtfully for a second but stepped inside anyway, taking care not to bump his broken arm.