Summary: Just because it's summer, y'think Harry's gonna get a break? HA! No way...

PROLOGUE:

Sirius was worried.

More than that actually. In fact, he was bordering on frantic, though he didn't show it.

He'd searched the Dursley house from top to bottom and still hadn't found a trace of his godson. He huffed in annoyance and frowned, searching eyes half-hooded under a tangle of long, matted black hair.

"Harry, where are you?" he growled to the empty room.

His godson's firebolt lay untouched in his closet, the very same one that he himself had given as a present roughly a year ago. Hedwig fluttered nervously by the window, also seeming concerned about the absence of her owner.

Still, it wasn't just that which worried him. Rather the fact that Harry's wand lay carelessly out in the open on his carefully made bed, without an owner, at 2 in the morning, worried him immensely.

Ever since the Dursleys had left for vacation a week ago (leaving Harry alone to tend the house), he'd been tailing Harry, watching, just in case… He hadn't been sure why. He simply felt he had to.

And now, it seemed something had indeed gone wrong.

His eyes fell once again to the letter in his hand from Harry's best friend Ron. Scanning it briefly, searching for any clues but came up at a blank.

Sirius shook his head.
So, he knew I was following him...

That didn't matter now. Now he had to focus on finding Harry.
Quickly.

Picking up Harry's wand and placing it lightly between his teeth, his mind registered a vague and familiar tingle as he shifted into his animagus form. Pausing in mid-stride, he sniffed the air suspiciously.

If a dog could frown, Sirius came very close.
Mentally, he cursed himself, growling deep in his throat with annoyance, disgust and increasing anxiety.

Increasing his pace, Sirius increased his pace, keen eyes deeply haunted.

About 10 minutes later, the police would receive several, very odd calls from a certain neighborhood reporting mysterious lights and a big, black dog leaving the empty and unlocked house of the Dursley family.

CHAPTER 1

Harry sighed as he pushed his glasses back up to rest comfortably on the bridge of his nose. For summer, it wasn't so bad.
After all, the Dursleys weren't home.
They'd left about a week ago to Jamaica on a cruise and, surprise of all surprises; they'd left him behind.

Or course, that was after Mrs. Dursley tore out several clumps of hair, going on about how he'd ruin the house and Mr. Dursley had given him a good 3 hours lecture... loud lecture... on precisely what he'd do if they came back to find the house in a condition any less than perfect.
Even in fear of what Harry's mysterious godfather, Sirius Black, might do should he find his godson mistreated, the Dursleys still couldn't resist threatening him one last time before they left.

Harry sighed. Not that he'd minded, if it meant he had the house to himself.

It was probably a good thing they knew Harry had a godfather now too, because the simple fact that HE was the one tending the house meant that it would NEVER be in perfect shape in the eyes of the Dursleys, no matter how well Harry kept it.

Harry rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn as he picked up Ron's letter again.

Harry-

Got the house all to yourself?! Heh. That situation isn't even remotely possible for me. But oh well. Don't ruin the house too bad yet, Fred and George'll probably want a go (Joking!! Well, sort of).

Green eyes rolled skywards slightly.

Anyway, Hermione's worried about you (big surprise), she's pretty wigged out that Sirius' following you. Are you SURE it's him ? I mean, maybe it's just some stray that's attracted to your magnetic personality.

Harry shook his head and smiled. Three days ago, he'd noticed the black shape of his godfather's animagus form watching him from an alleyway as he stepped out of the grocery store. And again, that afternoon, he caught the shadow ducking back into the bushes near the side of the house.

Something was definitely going on.

Maybe we can visit? Or maybe you can come visit us. The fireplace isn't blocked up again, is it? Dad's still itching to get his hands on some of those muggle contraptions of yours (give me a good spell any day). I think mom's afraid he's going to break something.
She's also having a fit at the fact that 'poor Harry' has to stay home all alone.

It might not be a bad idea. I mean if Black really is out there, watching you, you probably shouldn't be there by yourself. Err... well, I guess you aren't by yourself, then... but you know what I mean.

Anyway, keep on your toes.

-Ron

Harry smiled as he picked up his quill. It would be good to be able see Ron before school starts.

Summer really wasn't looking all that bad at all...

Not counting the fact that his godfather was apparently worried about him.
And that Sirius just might just get caught out there.
And that he had no substantial idea of what exactly he was supposed to look out for.
And that Voldemort was alive...

Harry's eyes involuntarily dropped to the scar on his arm. It never did heal fully...

Shivering, Harry's mood began to drop again. His life could never be simple, could it? On occasion, the new scar on his arm still throbbed, sometimes in tune with the lightning scar on his forehead. Never too painfully, but still enough to remind him that the man who killed his parents was still out there, somewhere. Alive. And hunting him.

With mixed emotions, he took out his wand and stared at it half-accusingly. Magic and Hogwarts made up a great deal of his life. Or at least, the joyful part of it. Or... not? If his parents hadn't been involved with magic, would they still be alive? Would he have a family, instead of the farce he lived now?

Gritting his teeth, he clutched the wand tightly, knuckles white. Brother wand to Voldemort's. Ironic, really.

Lifting his arm back, he shut his eyes. If he threw it down, would it break?
The sound on Hedwig's talons scraping her perch was his only answer. A bitter smile adorned his lips, one that looked incredibly wrong on his youthful face. It really didn't matter anyway.
Wand or no wand, he was what he was. And magic was part of him.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, he tossed the wand down onto the bed, eyes unfocused and clouded. He stood rigidly, fists clenched at his sides.

Hedwig flapped restlessly in her cage, snapping him out of his reverie as she hooted impatiently as if to tell him to get on with it.

Harry frowned and picked up the quill once more, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Somewhat stiffly, he began to write.

Ron-

I'd love to visit. Are you sure your mom wouldn't mind? I probably couldn't stay for long. I-

Harry sighed and looked up in mild annoyance as Hedwig continued to fidget in her cage with increasing violence.

-wouldn't want to bother you about it. Sirius is probably just being overprotective again because he doesn't want to leave me on my own.

Hedwig, by now, was throwing a royal tantrum. Wings beat with an empty clang every time that stretched too far and collided with the bars of her cage.

Bounding up off his bed, Harry walked over to his owl, trying frantically to keep her from hurting herself.

"Stop that," he ordered, trying to keep his tone soothing as he opened the door to the cage.

Warily, reaching in, Harry pulled back his hand with the startled cry. She'd scratched him! She'd never done that before! Cradling his blooded hand, he could only stare with foreboding as Hedwig flew frantically around the room, beating at the window like a creature possessed.

"Hedwig!"

Every nerve in his body screamed that something was wrong. Why was she acting like this? What was it that he couldn't sense?

Backing up, Harry made for his wand.

"Hedwig! Stop!"

Harry felt numb. His mind wouldn't work properly and he felt incredibly heavy.
Trying to keep an eye on his owl, Harry turned a little too hastily and stumbled.

He hit the floor hard, barely managing to bring his arms up to cushion his fall. He grunted. The pain in his hand and arms where the only thing that kept him relatively focused. Pushing himself up, his fingers brushed against the cool surface of his wand.

All his senses seemed to shut down slowly, the edges of his vision darkening, even as he gripped the wood like a lifeline.

As his vision left him completely in the dark, Harry was only aware of the sharp, painful burning which originated from the scar on his forehead.

Author's note:

Heheh... I think all my fics always end up with a protagonist passing out at least once... **sweatdrop**
Oh well, tell me what u think and if I should continue this!! E-mail at Lizeth_Hal@hotmail.com . Did I get any details wrong?