Harry James Potter did not fit the usual description of a twelve, soon-to-be-thirteen year old. He did not like summer holidays. When he was away at school, he did not get homesick and he absolutely loved doing homework. By no means was he overly-studious, but when course work consisted of learning about a new world that provided him refuge from his frankly awful relatives, he couldn't help but submerge himself in his work. Another peculiar fact about the boy was he happened to be a wizard. He had a fully functioning wand to prove it.

In between his second and third year of schooling, young Harry Potter stayed with his previously mentioned awful relatives. They were terribly nasty people to the point of almost being comical. To their neighbors, they were as pleasant as possible. However, that cordial facade they worked so hard to maintain would almost immediately disappear as soon as Harry was brought into the picture.

His Aunt Petunia, related by blood to his mother, was more akin to a giraffe than a woman. She could often be found craning her long neck to see over her garden walls or through her house's windows at her neighbors. Her spying habits went hand in hand with the ridiculous gossip mongering she was prone to do with the very ladies she would spy on. She was probably the least unkind to Harry, if only by a small margin. Instead of outright provoking him, she would simply passive-aggressively stare at him until Harry left her sight or make him do chores.

Uncle Vernon was a no nonsense type of fellow that not only lacked imagination and magical ability, but abhorred it totally. A big, beefy man with a neck that disappeared more by the day, Vernon Dursley was as muggle as one could be. His habit to complain about one thing or another always made Harry think that he was physically incapable of being happy. Vernon certainly never looked upon him with a smile, just a frown covered by a large black mustache.

Harry's cousin, Dudley, was the exact polar opposite of everything that Harry was. Being more wide than tall, Dudley had watery blue eyes and thick blond hair. On multiple occasions, Harry likened the boy to a pig in clothing and a wig. Of course, a pig would likely never wear something as distasteful as a wig that resembled Dudley's hair. He was cruelest of the Dursleys. For example, before Harry was revealed to be a wizard, Dudley would often beat up Harry, both with and without his gang. Thankfully, due to Dudley's alarming obesity, Harry managed to outrun him. Although, he still had tape around the bridge of his glasses from the few times Dudley managed to punch him in the nose.

His existence at the Dursley home wasn't as miserable as it was back when he lived in a cupboard, but he knew he'd much rather be living with his friend Ronald Weasley and his family or Hermione and her parents. They were pleasant people that actually treated him like he was human. He appreciated that. Harry figured this summer would just be like the one before, waiting for school to begin. However, he was completely mistaken. Everything changed the day Aunt Marge came to visit…

"Boy! Get in here!" Vernon shouted from the sitting room. Harry gently closed the lid of the case of the broomstick servicing kit his friend Hermione had generously given to him for his birthday. He absolutely loved it and was slightly annoyed someone interrupting his admiration of it. Vernon usually avoided Harry during the day, if at all possible. Whatever he could want must be "important".

When Harry entered the sitting room, Vernon stood up from a chair that appeared to be somewhat molded to man's shape. He put a raincoat on and scowled at Harry. None of this was new. Vernon searched his pockets for his wallet and keys. After confirming he had both, he glared at Harry once more. It took some serious willpower for Harry to not roll his eyes at his uncle's posturing.

"I am going to pick up Aunt Marge right now. She will be staying with us for the week," Vernon announced, grinning nastily at him. Harry paled a little.

"She's coming here?" he yelped. Vernon nodded, his mustache quivering. The man was laughing at him!

"Indeed she is. Before I go, we need to discuss a few things. First, you'll either keep a civil tongue with Marge, or you'll keep it in your head," he said strictly. Dudley unglued his eyes from the new television his parents bought him for the summer. Even television couldn't top the entertainment that was Vernon bullying Harry.

"I will if she will," Harry replied. He wasn't going to just cower, especially because he technically held a trump card. That card was magic. It would ruin his uncle if anyone found out about his 'weirdness'. Of course, he'd be breaking wizarding law and be expelled, but his uncle didn't need to know that. Vernon ignored him and continued

"Secondly, since Marge knows nothing about your—your condition. You will restrain yourself, is that understood?" he said. Harry glowered at the man.

"As long as she is capable of the same," he answered. Harry knew he was pushing Vernon's buttons, but at the moment, he was still trying to figure out what he was going to do about Marge how to best avoid her violent tendencies that she shared with her brother.

"And finally," he said, "because of her lack of knowledge, she has been informed that you are attending St. Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"So instead of telling her I go to some highly private boarding school in Scotland, you decide to tell her I'm an incurable criminal?" Harry asked in a disbelieving tone. After all, it's not every day you're told to act as if you go to a prison for schooling.

"That's right. And you'll tell her the same if you don't want to get the stuffing knocked out of you," he leered.

Harry wanted to say many things, some that likely would have gotten the stuffing beaten out of him. Instead, an idea came to the forefront of his mind. It was nothing clever, but then again he was dealing with the Dursleys, so it didn't have to be.

"Oh gosh. I'm just not sure I can handle all that information at once! I mean, I might accidentally let something slip— 'Oh yes aunt Marge, we are allowed to bring pets to school. Would you like to see my pet owl that delivers my mail? How does it know where to fly? Well you'll never believe this but it's m—'" Harry said. He saw Vernon and Dudley tense up. Petunia looked as if she'd been struck. Harry knew if he didn't resolve this tension quick, he'd likely be beaten senseless.

"Boy—" Vernon warned.

"But if you sign my permission slip, I'll behave like a perfectly normal incurably criminal boy. I'll even remember the name of St. whosiwhatsits," Harry continued quickly.

"St. Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!" shouted Vernon. Harry smirked a little and nodded convincingly.

"Of course. All that will be in order if I can get my permission slip signed," Harry said. Vernon scowled and nodded.

"Fine, boy. If you behave adequately while Marge is staying here and you toe the line, I'll sign your ruddy form," he said. Harry grinned.

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon. I'm glad we could come to an agreement," Harry replied. Before he could say anything else that could possibly get him beaten, Harry headed back upstairs and sat at his desk. He needed a plan to avoid Marge whenever possible.

Forty five minutes passed when there was a sudden knock on the door. His not-really-Aunt Marge bustled past Harry as he opened the door for her and Vernon. She was a carbon copy of her brother, except her mustache was less grown-out and few shades lighter.

The dog that accompanied her was better looking than she was, and it was a bulldog. It growled at him and Harry scowled back. He'd been fairly averse to Marge's dogs since he was about nine when one named Ripper chased him up a tree. It wouldn't have been that bad if Marge hadn't waited till the next morning to call the bloody dog off.

After taking her bags to the guest bedroom, Harry excused himself quietly. If he could get a head start on keeping away from Marge, it would be all the better for everyone. Harry closed the bedroom door behind him and sat in the dingy, small chair at the worn out desk in the left corner of the room. He cast a tired eye at Hedwig, who was in her cage at the moment. She stared back at him with intense amber eyes. He glanced at the creased permission slip on his desk and sighed.

"I've only got to deal with her for a week. Hopefully, I can manage. Think I can do it?" he asked rhetorically. Hedwig bobbed her head up and down as if affirming he could indeed manage. Harry laughed and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"How about I write a letter to Ron and a letter to Hermione. It'd give you some good exercise," said Harry. Hedwig hooted in agreement. Harry took out a piece of parchment.

Dear Hermione,

I hope you are doing well. How is your summer going? Mine is about as dreadful as can be expected. Unfortunately it is only going to get worse. My "Aunt" Marge has come to visit. She's a replica of Uncle Vernon so you can imagine how positively delightful she is. Hopefully she doesn't decide to chase me up a tree again. When are you going to Diagon Alley? You, Ron and I should meet up to do our school shopping. It'll give us a chance to catch up.

Lots of love,

Harry

Harry folded up the letter and put it in an envelope. After writing her name, he pulled out more parchment and dipped his quill in the ink pot.

Dear Ron,

How's it going, mate? I think I'm going mad here. Maybe you can come pick me up like you did last year? It was worth seeing Vernon land arse first in his prized hedges. Anyways, my Aunt Marge has come to visit. She's a breeder of bulldogs and has the temperament of them, too. The only thing keeping me from hexing one of them is the fact that I need Uncle Vernon to sign my Hogsmeade permission form. If it ends up going topsy turvy, maybe Fred or George could forge his signature? When is your family going to Diagon Alley? You, Hermione and I should meet up.

Sincerely,

Harry

He sealed the letters and then looked at Hedwig, who stared at them intently.

"What do you think? Too needy?" he asked. Hedwig hooted. Harry took that as a no.

"Good enough for me. Take these to Ron and Hermione quickly and don't leave until you get a response from each," Harry said. Hedwig nibbled his ear affectionately, ate some of the food in her bowl, and took off into the night sky. Harry watched her until she disappeared into the clouds and then sighed, sitting back in the rickety chair in the smallest bedroom in Number 4 Privet Drive. He longed to be in the magical world once more; away from the Dursleys, Aunt Marge, and her dreadful bulldogs. Within the hour, Harry was fast asleep.

The week dragged on for Harry. He often found himself hiding somewhere in the neighborhood or simply in his room. He wasn't intimidated by Marge and was only cautious of the grumpy bulldog she kept with her at all times. However, he adopted a philosophy along the lines of avoidance whenever possible. After all, he couldn't lash out against her if she wasn't around, and vice versa. It seemed to be working quite well for everyone. Unfortunately, the last night ruined everything.

Harry was dragged into the kitchen by Petunia to help with dinner. Marge was in the living room. She saw him and then began her tirade immediately.

"You're letting him help prepare the food, Petunia? Are you sure he's capable of such a task? I mean, he's as thin as a rake! And just look at his hair. He looks like a ragamuffin…" she raved.

He focussed totally on making food, but his pseudo-aunt was unrelenting. She seemed to attack anything she could. She started on his appearance, and continued from there. She insulted his reputation with the neighborhood, the fact that he did badly at school, and a number of other things she deemed wrong.

Of course, the woman's opinion was less that dirt to Harry, and so he continued cooking. Petunia even gave him an impressed glance once because of his lack of response to Marge's verbal abuse! Of course, Dudley and Vernon were soaking it up and adding to the fire. Just when he thought he was going to snap, Petunia snatched up the food and put it on a plate to serve.

"Dinner!" she cried, bringing the food to the table. If there was one thing that the Dursleys enjoyed more than tormenting Harry, it was food. Harry stayed in the kitchen, eating his food at the counter. He was enjoying the lack of attention his relatives were paying him. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

"You mustn't blame yourself for how he turned out, Vernon. It's all about blood bad blood…" Harry heard Marge say. He chuckled. She sounded just like a certain blond ponce he knew. He tuned his listening back in.

"What was it his father did?"

"He um… he didn't work," said Petunia timidly. Marge snorted.

"And a drunk too, no doubt," she said. Harry stiffened. Vernon stared at him warningly. Behave or else. With a slow breath, Harry tried to relax. He focussed his mind on other things. He thought of the permission form. Just another month or so and he'd be back in the magical world—

"Actually it's nothing to do with the father. It's all to do with the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup!" she said with finality. Harry exploded.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" he shouted. For a moment, everything was quiet. Marge's smirk curled into an evil smile.

"How dare you! I swear you'll regret the day you were born when I'm done with you!" she raved. She stood as if to try and beat him. Harry slipped his hand into his baggy jeans where his wand rested. One wrong move from the woman and he'd test out that bat-bogey hex Ginny had taught him the year before. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Go get the door, boy," Vernon spat. Harry stared for a moment, "go now boy!"

Harry approached the front door. He glanced through the peep hole and groaned. A man in a blue robe was standing there, looking around the neighborhood. This was really not a good time for any magical interference. It would only further serve to enrage the Dursleys. He knew he wasn't going to get his form signed anyways, so he decided to open the door.

The man was very tan. He had deep black hair the was ruffled yet nicely groomed. His black goatee was shaved sharply. He smiled.

"Ah. You must be Mr. Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Gabriel—" the man had a very distinct Spanish accent.

"WHO IS AT THE RUDDY DOOR, BOY?" Vernon shouted.

"Come with me, please," said Harry, guiding the confused man to the kitchen. He knew he'd get a kick out of whatever came next.

As the man stepped into the Dursley's vision, Harry choked back a laugh. He wasn't the only one choking, either. Petunia looked as if she was trying to swallow a lemon whole. Harry thought Vernon might be part chameleon with how fast he was changing from peach to red to purple. Dudley squeeked and slapped his hands around his bottom. Marge just looked confused

"Hello sir. My name is Gabriel Martín. I am a representative from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I am here in regards to a temporary transfer of one Harry James Potter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to our esteemed school," Gabriel said formally.

"What?" Harry and Vernon said at the same time. Their tones were completely different. Harry was confused while Vernon seemed on the brink of exploding. Gabriel looked taken aback.

"Um… yes. You see, a high-security prisoner escaped from the wizarding prison, Azkaban about a week ago. Hogwarts, the school Mr. Potter attends, is working with Beauxbatons in order to protect him. We believe Mr. Potter is a target of the escapee," he explained. Vernon was breathing very heavily.

"What the ruddy hell are you taking about, young man? You seem to act as if magic was real, talking about wizards and witches," Marge said, waking out of her stupor. Gabriel looked at her, then at Harry.

"This woman doesn't know about the magical world?" he asked. Harry shook his head. In a flash, his wand was in his hand.

"Obliviate."

"What did you do to my sister?" roared Vernon. Gabriel looked disapprovingly at him. Harry snickered and kept near the door, just in case his uncle decided to get violent. He didn't want to be collateral damage.

"I simply wiped her mind. As a muggle not directly related to a wizard, she must not know about wizard kind," Gabriel explained.

"Get the hell out of my house, you freak!" Vernon shouted. Gabriel squinted at the man.

"Not until I explain to you what Harry's circumstances will be this coming year," he said firmly.

"He really doesn't care. We can talk about it outside if you want," said Harry. Gabriel shook his head.

"We cannot be out in public when discussing such a delicate matter. If necessary, you can return with me back to Beauxbatons. We can explain the situation there and get you acquainted with Headmistress Maxime," said Gabriel.

"Works for me," Harry said, shrugging. He trusted the man. After all, if he wanted Harry dead he'd likely be already dead.

"OUT!" Vernon said wildly. He appeared to only be able to communicate in one syllable words. Harry knew that his uncle was about to snap.

"Come along, Mr. Martín. We should probably get going," Harry urged. Gabriel scowled before following Harry out the door. The man sighed and smoothed his robes.

"That was… interesting. Your family they seemed…"

"Unpleasant?" Harry suggested. Gabriel nodded but said nothing. He walked up to the curb and held out his elbow for Harry to grab.

"Are you familiar with apparition?" he asked. Harry shook his head.

"Um, no. Why?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Prepare yourself," was all Gabriel said before they disappeared with a loud pop. Harry felt as if he was being sucked through a straw. His body was stretching. Just as it was about to be unbearable, Harry and Gabriel landed on a cobbled street.

Harry felt dizzy. His eyes were swimming and his mind was racing. What had just happened? Was that teleportation? The air was brisker around them than the suburb they were just at.

"Impressive," said Gabriel.

"What is?" asked Harry

"You did not lose your dinner like most do on their first apparition trip," Gabriel replied matter-of-factly.

"Where are we?" Harry said.

"We are in the Pyrenees mountain range right now. Welcome to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Mr. Potter," Gabriel said, gesturing to a castle about a half mile away. Harry gasped. It was more centralized than Hogwarts, with less towers and more of a single structure, but it was much wider and taller than all of Hogwarts. To say it was beautiful was an understatement.

"Wow," Harry said breathlessly. Gabriel nodded.

"It is beautiful, no? Let us go."

Harry followed the man to a set of gates that were roughly twenty feet tall. Two massive statues held large stone spears in the shape of an X in front of the gate. With a flick of Gabriel's wand, the statues shifted and saluted them as they passed. Harry saluted back before putting his hand back down. Magic or no, he felt a little silly saluting a statue.

After going through the gates, Harry and Gabriel took a brief tour of the grounds on their way to meet Madame Maxime. The school was decorated by many beautiful statues and murals in many mediums of art including paint and tile.

"This is La Fontaine de Flamel. It was generously provided by one of our benefactors, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. Nicholas was the only known creator of the Philosopher's stone and a Beauxbatons alumni," Gabriel said proudly. Harry smiled.

"Oh yeah. In my first year Voldemort was trying to steal the Philosphers Stone," Harry recalled. Gabriel looked at him in surprise.

"What happened?"

"I stopped him. He was possessing our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Something happened when I grabbed him and he burned up," Harry said matter-of-factly. Gabriel looked at him stunned for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Quite the tale. Let us go," he said. Harry wasn't comfortable talking about his adventures with most people, but with Mr. Martín he couldn't help that small slip. After all, the man's reaction was quite funny.

After venturing through the halls, they arrived at a pair of huge oak doors, each with a shiny golden handle that together resembled the shape of a heart. Before either Gabriel or Harry could grasp the handle, the doors creaked open.

"Ah Mr. Potter. Please come in. We have much to discuss," a voice from inside the room called.