Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

The clock struck seven when Harry arrived back in his room, so he tried his best not to doze off to sleep. Uncle Vernon always woke at half past, his biological clock guaranteed it, and hoping he would let Harry sleep in nearly made him chuckle. As usual, a long list of pointless chores awaited him and breakfast wouldn't cook itself either.

Harry didn't mind spending his days scrubbing dirty windowsills with Dudley's old toothbrush or trimming the front lawn with a pair of safety scissors, it helped him clear his mind. Sometimes he even found it quite relaxing. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds chirping on the other side of the window, wishing he had wings like they did, so he could fly away and never come back.

When Harry peeked at the digital clock on his nightstand once again, he almost tumbled of the bed. Nearly half an hour had passed in the blink of an eye. "Wow," he uttered under his breath. His hands shifted to his face, where they gingerly touched the scar on his forehead. It didn't hurt, so he hadn't fallen asleep. They say time flies when you're having fun, clearly it also does when you're worrying yourself to death.

Not a minute later, muffled footsteps approached his bedroom. "Up! Get up! Now!" Aunt Petunia's voice demanded while she rapped his door ferociously, practically unhinging it in the process.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia!" Harry responded as he dug his head into his pillow. 'Just three more weeks,' he thought, gathering his courage to start the new day.

After crawling out of bed, he stretched out and scratched the back of his head. There was one thing he still had to take care of. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on an old boot that lay under his closet, it was a discarded birthday gift of Dudley's. They still found their way into his old second bedroom every once in a while.

Harry removed his sock and started to sweep the desk with it, making sure to catch every sniff of floopowder as it toppled down. After a minute or so, there was barely any powder left and he reckoned the boot held enough for two, maybe even three, fireplace-conversations with Ginny.

The Dursleys were all awake now, so there was no reason to remain quiet. He carefully lifted the loose plank and stashed the shoe under it, then he made his way downstairs.

Uncle Vernon sat in his favourite armchair by the fire when Harry entered the living room. 'If only he knew what happened here last night,' Harry thought. A broad grin appeared on his face as he imagined his uncle's plump face becoming redder and redder, like a giant tomato with a moustache.

His uncle lowered his newspaper when he heard the door shut and narrowed his eyes at Harry. These actions used to make him feel worthless. Up until his eleventh birthday, he had always longed to earn the Dursley's respect, but after learning why his only living relatives hated him so much, he had given up on them. Vernon put the newspaper on his lap. "Petunia, the boy's here," he snarled before picking it back up and reading on.

Harry looked at the fire besides his uncle's armchair, it was truly on now. The wood crackled and the flames only reached as high as his knees. He almost couldn't believe he was right here only an hour ago, talking to a green, flaming Ginny halfway across the country. Boy did he love magic.

"What are you looking at, Potter?" Aunt Petunia shook him out of his reverie and pointed at the kitchen. "Breakfast should have been on the table by now!" She wore a knee-height denim dress, a flower-pattern kitchen apron and seemed to be in a more horrible mood than usual. Harry had no clue why she insisted on wearing an apron, even if she wasn't the one cooking. Maybe it was just so he wouldn't touch her favourite one.

He headed toward the kitchen and started preparing everything he needed. Harry had always liked cooking. It was one of the chores he enjoyed most, although he'd never admit it to the Dursleys, or they wouldn't let him do it anymore. "Oh, and Dudley is still on his diet of half a grapefruit, so it'll just be the two of us." Aunt Petunia added as an afterthought.

Harry laughed up his sleeve. He had completely forgotten about Dudley's 'unfortunate' predicament. Maybe this day was worthwhile after all. He tossed way more bacon than necessary in the frying pan, mainly because he was hungry, but also because he loved stuffing himself in front of his hungry cousin.

When Harry opened the fridge and reached for the orange juice, he caught a glimpse of the last half of Dudley's grapefruit. It lay in the middle of the fridge, totally unprotected, surely that had to be some kind of sign from the heavens. He couldn't waste an opportunity like this.

Harry peeled the grapefruit, taking care not to damage it. He also removed the inner skin, although that took longer than expected. The sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs were long done by the time Harry finished peeling. "How much longer can it take you, boy?" An impatient uncle Vernon shouted from the living room, remembering him to speed up.

When the grapefruit was finally peeled, he dumped all the innards on Dudley's plate and carefully ruffled it up. It looked exactly like a raw heap of minced meat and Harry was sure his cousin would notice.

"Breakfast's ready," Harry yelled, a mischievous undertone played in his voice. He didn't recall the last time he'd had so much fun with the Dursleys. Vernon and Petunia were already seated when Dudley entered the room, it took a momentous effort not to smirk. He wished his parents a good morning and took his seat. Harry took a closer look at his cousin's face.

He needn't have. As soon as Dudley saw what his plate looked like, he turned pale white, oddly reminiscent of Nearly-Headless Nick or the Bloody Baron. Dudley looked up at Harry, who no longer attempted to supress his grin, cracked his knuckles and gave him a death glare.

Meanwhile, uncle Vernon devoured his scrambled eggs and bacon without a care in the world, Harry doubted his uncle would notice anything, even if his entire family were abducted by aliens right now. Petunia's hawk-eyes, however, had spotted the contents of Dudley's plate and for a second Harry thought his gag was over, until her gaze slowly shifted toward him and a small smile appeared on her lips. Harry's eyes widened in astonishment. She must think this was a nice gesture of his, to support his cousin through the tough times.

An unusual silence settled over the breakfast table. Dudley always led the conversations, complaining about everything and everyone that came to mind. He whined about school, about the weather, about Harry, about food; if it moved, smelled or squeaked, Dudley had probably complained about it at some point.

Petunia would absent-mindedly stab the food in front of her and chime in every now and then, especially when things got personal, like Miss Figg's new hairdo or the neighbour's ugly tree in the front lawn. His uncle would stay quiet as he stuffed himself to the brim. Once he was done, he would quip in as well. Harry always remained silent, it's not like they cared about his opinion anyway.

Today, the mood was peacefully quiet, even Dudley's death glares didn't ruin the moment. Harry ate more than ever before. He wasn't afraid of his cousin, even if he had to carry a ten-pound-bag of potatoes, he was still a lost faster than Dudley and he had magic on his side.

"So," Dudley broke the silence, his eyes remained fixated on Harry's. "How's Cedric doing these days, cuz?" The question hit him like a punch in the gut. He knew Dudley was aware of Cedric's existence, but he didn't think he'd ever dare to mention it in front of his mum and dad. They hated anything and anyone related to magic. "Well?" Dudley insisted.

Harry needed a drink, his throat was dry and his tongue was tied in a knot. He hastily stuffed his mouth chock-full with food, hoping the building tension would resolve itself. Uncle Vernon looked up from his plate and put down his fork and aunt Petunia looked at him like a hawk about to snatch its prey, her mouth was set in a thin line. They weren't going to drop the matter.

"Well," his aunt mumbled. "Who is it then?"

"He's just someone who goes to my school."

Dudley smirked. "Must be more than that. I can hear you talking about him in your dreams every night," he said as he shoved another spoonful of grapefruit in his mouth and smiled innocently in Harry's direction.

"You could say he's a friend of mine." He was defiling Cedric's legacy, talking about him with his hateful relatives. They sneered and narrowed their eyes every time Harry spoke his name and huffed in disgust when they saw the hurt expression on Harry's face.

"Oh," Dudley laughed. "You have friends? Good for you!" Harry didn't believe what he was hearing. His cousin could insult him all he wanted, he didn't care one bit. He just hoped Dudley would shut up about Cedric. He was moderately frightened now, what was Dudley going to say next? How much did he know?

Dudley put his glass back down and a small smirk found its way onto his face. "Can I ask you another question?" He asked as he twirled his fork in his meaty hand.

Harry was taken aback. "Sure," he mumbled quietly.

Vernon and Petunia looked like they were watching a game of tennis. With their necks craned forwards, their eyes shifted from Dudley to Harry and finally back to Dudley. Every time Petunia met his eyes, her gaze became more vicious. Vernon was turning red at an alarming rate.

Dudley slowly sipped from his orange juice. He took a long time contemplating how he was going to phrase his next question. "Could it be possible," he finally started. "That said Cedric is, now how should I put this," he paused and looked Harry up and down, a playful glee danced in his eyes. "Dead?"

Dudley's last words resonated through his skull as another silence fell over the breakfast table. Harry was boiling on the inside. The way Dudley acted, it looked like he found it amusing someone had died. He longed to curse the living hell out of his cousin. He understood that the Dursleys hated him and his kind, but even Harry hadn't expected them to be so resentful.

"Dudley honey," aunt Petunia tried to stop Dudley from saying anything else. It seemed like she agreed this was a bridge too far.

Harry's hand twitched. Only then did he realise he didn't have his wand with him, he must have forgotten it in his bedroom. "I don-," he stuttered out as a last resort.

"In fact," Dudley knitted his fingers together and curled his lip. "I'm sorry Cedric…," Dudley squealed in a high voice. "Sounds like you had something to do with it, cuz." Dudley arched his eyebrows. "D'you kill him, Potter?"

As if someone had made the room into a vacuum, everything went dead silent, the birds stopped chirping outside the living room window and the soft babble of the radio was inaudible to Harry's ears. He had no idea where Dudley had gotten the overload of confidence and smugness from. If Harry hadn't left his wand in his room, his cousin would already be on the way to the hospital.

"You better just admit it, Potter. Means you'll get less years behind the bars."

SMACK. It's safe to say Dudley did not see his fist coming. By the time his eyes widened in horror, Harry had already made contact with his cousin's nose. A loud crack reverberated through the kitchen, Harry hoped it was the sweet sound of breaking bones.

Harry rose and stormed out of the kitchen at the speed of light, he felt his heart beating in his head. Everything he came across either exploded, collapsed or burst into flames as he rushed through the house, Petunia's fresh roses wilted as Harry brushed past them and Dudley's yearly birthday picture exploded into a million tiny pieces.

When he slammed the door of his bedroom shut behind him, he put his head in his hands and tried to compose a plan. Easier said than done with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He grabbed and emptied everything he could, flung it all in his trunk and tried to keep it from floating behind him as he paced back and forth in his room.

Harry was malnourished and sleep deprived, only the adrenaline kept him on his feet. He had to get out of here, fast. His body made decisions for him, he couldn't think straight. He threw his trunk out of his bedroom window and jumped down after it, landing softly in the bushes underneath.

It only took five minutes for his mind to catch up with his body, the adrenaline rush was fading. All his muscles started to feel sore and stiff, his breathing was erratic and he was afraid he would start hyperventilating any second now. His vision turned blurrier by the minute and if felt like someone had spliced his head open with an axe.

Harry neared the corner of Magnolia Road and spotted the fence that gave access to the playground and park, he headed toward it. When he reached the fence, Harry grabbed hold of it, doubled over and retched. Out came the bacon and eggs.

Suddenly, a hand softly touched his shoulder. His mind and body were too tired to recoil from the stranger's touch. "Harry, are you alright?" A gentle voice asked. Too exhausted to respond, Harry plopped down on the ground, wrapped his arms around his legs and put his head between his knees. He wanted to die, then and there. Nobody would miss him, nobody would care and he would be a whole lot happier.

He kept his eyes shut tight, trying to escape into the darkness. "Harry, what happened?" The voice asked again, he still didn't have the energy to acknowledge its owner. A second hand grabbed his other shoulder and slowly rocked him back and forth. "It's alright," it kept saying while the hands shook him softly. He looked up.

She had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. He frowned at her and the tense look on her face made place for a mischievous smile. "You scared the hell out of me, kiddo."

"Who are you?" Harry asked her with all the energy he could muster. His voice sounded small and distant.

"I don't think this is the right time or place for an explanation, Harry. Let's get you somewhere safe first," she extended her hand.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" Harry asked as he accepted her help and was pulled back onto his feet.

"Sure," she answered after steadying Harry, he held a firm grip on the fence so he wouldn't topple over again. "It's Tonks. Now are we going?" She motioned towards the street.

Harry brushed his hands off on his old jeans. "Where are we going?" he asked softly, the last thing he wanted to do was go back to the Dursleys.

"Your home," Tonks said matter-of-factly. Harry had never heard words that hurt him more, Privet Drive wasn't his home; he didn't have one. He walked backwards until he backed into a solid oak.

"I can't go back there," A shiver ran through his entire body. "Not back to the Dursleys," tears stung his eyes, but he didn't care how small he looked, all he wanted was to go away and never return to this godforsaken place.

"It's the only place that's safe," Tonks pressed on. She looked uneasy and out of place. Clearly, handling out-of-control teenagers wasn't in her job description. Harry shook his head. "Please Harry," She begged him. He covered his ears with his hands and shook his head with renewed vigour.

Tonks reached out, grabbed both his hands and spoke in a reassuring voice. "By Merlin's beard, I swear I will do everything within my power to get you away from those horrible people as soon as I can." She squeezed his hands. "You have to believe me, Harry." The twinkle in her eyes had gone. Harry believed her, he really did, but he could go back there.

Her hands suddenly tightened their grip and dragged him out from under the tree. "Tonks, what are you doing?" Harry shouted, exasperated. He tried to yank back his arms, but her grip was too tight.

"Harry, you're a tough kid," he had given up the struggle and simply walked alongside her now. She was strong for her size, if she really wanted him to go back to the Dursleys, then she'd make him. "You'll live through a couple more hours with your relatives. I'll guide you to your room and put a spell on your door. They won't dare to come anywhere near it. Stay inside and I promise we will come and fetch you tonight." She looked at him sternly when she spoke those last words.

She let go of his hands. "If you want to wait out here for You-Know-Who to come find you, then be my guest," she turned on her heel and walked away.

"All right, I'll go," Harry finally gave in. His heart was a melting pot of emotions: fear, anxiety, hatred, guilt and curiosity all ate away at him. "On one condition. You have to tell me who you are, why you're here and how you know who I am." He left her no room for discussion.

"Fine," she sighed as her shoulders slouched. "What do you want to know, exactly?" She started to pick up the pace once Harry had caught up with her.

"Why are you here?" It was the first question that came to mind.

"You know. I can't actually tell you that right now. I'm sorry." For a moment, it looked like she was going to add something, but she decided against it in the end.

"All right," They were off to a good start, Harry thought. "Can I take an educated guess?"

Tonks looked at him and frowned. "Go ahead," she said.

Harry thought of everything Ginny had told him last night. "I think Dumbledore's got something to do with it." The shock on her face showed his guess had hit home. "So it's true," he added.

"What's true?" Tonks shot back, a bewildered expression on her face.

"Oh, nothing." Harry answered quickly. She clearly didn't believe him, but she wasn't telling him everything either. An awkward silence fell.

"Good, so Dumbledore sent you, anything else you want to add?" He broke the silence. Her eyes grew wide in horror and Harry felt bad for her. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else about it. Now, please just answer my questions."

Tonks regained her composure. "How do you know all this?"

"Trade secret," he remembered Ginny's response last night. He wanted to protect the girl who had told him about this at all costs. She had done a good thing for him and the last thing he wanted to do was get her in trouble. "Has Dumbledore always spied on me here?"

Whatever the answer to that question, it would hurt. If she said yes, it would make Harry both happy and sad. Happy because there had always been someone watching over him, but sad because no one had ever intervened when they watched him endure the Dursley's abuse for years.

If she said no, then his suspicion would become a reality. He would know for sure that no one had ever cared for him and that wouldn't be such a joyful insight either. He braced himself for Tonks' answer, but it wasn't as enlightening as he had hoped.

"Yes and no," Tonks said as she stroked her hair while they strode down Magnolia Crescent. Harry frowned. "Yes, there have always been people keeping an eye on you. No, because we've only kept a constant watch over you since You-Know-Who," she didn't finish her sentence, it spoke for itself.

"That's why I'm here today and when you barged out of the house, I followed you, to make sure you wouldn't get hurt." Harry was mad at Dumbledore. Not because he spied on him to guarantee his safety, in hindsight, he should have expected something like this now Voldemort had returned. He was mad because the headmaster insisted he was safer with the Dursleys than anywhere else, a thought that drove Harry into madness and beyond.

"If he wants me to be safe," Harry asked puzzled. "Then why doesn't have let me stay at Hogwarts, or the Burrow, where I'm surrounded by wizards all day? I don't understand how keeping an eye on me at the Dursleys is safer than any of those places."

Tonks spun around. "I have no idea, Harry, but I'm sure Dumbledore will have a good reason. He has your best interests at heart, you know. He really cares about your wellbeing." She looked down at her feet. So, the headmaster didn't even tell the other members of the Order of his plans and reasons. They walked on in silence as they rounded the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive.

Tonks looked up. Big, grey storm clouds were gathering in the sky overhead. "About time," she huffed. "I think the Kalahari Dessert's seen more rain than Britain this summer." Harry couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his lips, even though he had never heard of this Kalahari Dessert. They were drenched by the time they reached the front door of number four.

"All right, Harry," she took both of his hands in hers once again. "I can't come in; your uncle won't let me. Get to your room as quick as you can, I'll find you in there," she inspected his bedroom window, then her gaze shifted back to him. "Don't forget to lock your door and remember, I'll come back for you tonight, just try to-," Tonks didn't finish her sentence.

Harry breathed out, a damp grey mist escaped his mouth. The rain had vanished and made place for a steady downfall of cold snow. He looked at Tonks, she had a weary expression on her face as she looked around for the cause of the sudden drop in temperature. "What's happening?" Harry's teeth were chattering, goose bumps popped up all over his arms and the hairs on his neck were standing up. It felt like time stood still.

Harry heard a sharp crack to his left, the window of number five had shattered in the unbearable cold. A layer of icy snow already covered the grass in the front lawn. "Stay calm, Harry." Tonks spoke up, but her quavering voice didn't reassure him in the slightest.

He heard someone shout his name to the left. He didn't recognise the voice. Harry and Tonks now stood back to back as they slowly spun around in circles, no one would approach them unseen. "Harry!" Someone shouted again. He whirled around, it was Dudley's voice.

"Over here!" He shouted back to his cousin, forgetting all past events in the blink of an eye. "In front of your house!"

"H-Harry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry okay? P-Please stop whatever you're doing!" A wall of thick mist shrouded everything more than a couple feet away. Dudley's voice was close, but Harry had no idea where he was.

"I'm not doing anything Dudley. Where the hell are you?" He heard loud footsteps approaching, whoever it was, they were running. Dudley ran through the wall of smoke when Harry first heard it, a rattling, lingering breath he recognised like no other.

Dudley's footsteps stopped short. Harry heard a deafening yell and saw the plump form of his cousin crash to the ground. Dudley lay in the distance as a floating, cloaked figure approached him. A dementor. Harry didn't think, he didn't breathe, he let his instincts take over – Expecto Patronum!

A giant stag burst from the tip of his wand. It ran straight toward Dudley and hit the cloaked figure square in the chest. The dementor shrieked and the stag showed its antlers once more, then it slowly retreated in the wall of fog. Harry ran to Dudley. Tonks stood rooted to the spot, her mouth agape, she looked right at Harry.

Dudley lay on the ground, quivering and shaking. Harry propped him up against number fourteen's mailbox. "You don't happen to have any chocolate, do you?" He asked Tonks, but she didn't respond.

Harry put his cousin's arm over his neck and heaved him up. He couldn't walk on his own accord, but it worked with Harry's support. "Can you help me out a little?" He yelled at Tonks, who still stood stock-still. She ran toward the pair.

"Blimey, Harry, I didn't know you could cast a corporeal patronus," she sounded impressed.

Together, they managed to steer Dudley all the way back to number four. He still looked pale and had nearly trembled out of his skin by the time they reached the door. "I have to go now Harry, but I'll be back tonight, like I promised." Harry nodded. She disapparated into thin air.

The light in the hall was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside his jeans, rang the bell and waited for Petunia to open the door. "There you are," his aunt snarled. When she got a good look at Dudley, she turned on her heel and unleashed a shout that reverberated through the entire house. "Vernon, come here!"

Dudley swayed and doubled over. Harry released him just in time, Dudley retched and a thick green spray of vomit coated number four's doormat.

"You," Petunia narrowed her eyes at him. "You did this, Potter!"

"I did not-,"

"Liar!" Petunia spat while she patted Dudley's soaked hair. "Our poor boy went after his crazy cousin to calm his down, help him, and what did you do, you brat! You defiled him with dark magic! She burst out in tears. "We should have let you rot when we found you on the doorstep all those years ago. We should have just let you rot!" She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

Harry didn't know what to think or do, he had save his cousin. He had to act quickly. Harry ran past Petunia and Dudley, into the kitchen and grabbed a bright-green bar of chocolate, he sprinted back to the door and pushed it in his aunt's hands. "Here, give him this, it will help." He didn't know why he was helping Dudley, maybe because of his own experience with the dementors or maybe he just couldn't control his protective instincts.

He bolted up the stairs and passed uncle Vernon, who wore a disgraceful crimson bathrobe and looked weirdly at a popsicle he held in his meaty hand. Harry ran into his room, snatched his wand from his jeans and pointed it right at the closed door – Colloportus.

Then he opened his window and yelled – Accio Trunk – and the trunk he had forgotten all about came swooping in through the opened window. Then, he crashed down on his bed and put his head in his pillow.

A tawny owl flew in after his trunk and dropped a letter at his feet. Harry wasn't expecting mail. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. A booming voice, coming out the shattered envelope startled Harry and made him drop it. The letter transformed and he soon realised what it was. A howler.

He heard his aunt and uncle kicking and hitting his door with relentless force, Harry prayed the voice wouldn't be too loud, so his relatives wouldn't be able to hear it. The silent prayers didn't help.

"Dear Mister Potter," the envelope greeted him. "We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at thirty-four past seven this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August. Hoping you are well, Yours Sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk. Improper Use of Magic Office, Ministry of Magic."

One fact penetrated his mind like a paralysing dart. He was expelled from Hogwarts. It was all over. He was never going back.

"Justice," he heard his uncle say on the other side of the door. "I'll make sure to send those representatives up to your room when they get here, boy!"

Harry crashed onto his bed, his entire world had collapsed in one single day. He'd gone from depressed to slightly happier, right back to depressed. There was nothing he could do, he had tried to run in his third year and the Ministry had awaited him when he arrived. There was nowhere to go.

The world turned fuzzy and Harry closed his eyes, for the first time in a long while, sleep took over.

He stood in the middle of a gloomy room even bigger than the great hall at Hogwarts. Harry turned around, but all he saw were shelves, lines upon lines of shelves, stacked to the brim with millions of orbs of different sizes, some as big as a human head, others smaller than a golden snitch. A milky-white liquid swirled in the one nearest to him.

"Harryyy," a faraway voice hissed to him, he could almost hear the venom permeated in the sound. Harry spun on his heel, trying to find the source of the noise. "Harry," it sounded closer this time and less vicious and cruel. The world spun around him.

"Harry," he shot up, pointing his wand at the intruder.

"Who's there?" He tried to sound brave, to no avail. Someone gently touched his shoulder and Harry lowered his wand. It was Tonks.

She glanced at Harry's trunk and made it hover in place. Only now did Harry realise they weren't alone. A dozen witches and wizards stood around his bed, some were craning their necks over the person in front of them, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter.

Harry didn't recognise most of them, but the frail red-haired wizard that stood in the doorway didn't escape his gaze.

"Mr Weasley," Harry said, delighted to see a familiar face.

The Weasley patron gave Harry a reassuring smile. "Hey there, Harry." It was clear he was very glad to see Harry safe and sound. Mr Weasley clapped his hands together and made his way through the pack of wizards by his bedside. "Ready to go?" He asked when he stood in front of Harry.

"Where are we going?"

Mr Weasley's next words nearly made his heart skip a beat.

"Home," he said.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story has been on hold for a very long time, my apologies for that. I've finally come 'round and decided to finish it, although it will be in quite a different way than I first imagined it. My main goal for this story is to create a world in which Harry and Ginny fell in love a lot sooner than in the real books, which means I won't be changing all too much of the storyline, just interjecting Ginny in it. Thank you very much for reading, following and favouring. It sounds cheesy, but it really puts a smile on my face every time I see someone enjoyed my story. If you've read the entire chapter and want to leave some constructive criticism or point out a mistake I made, then don't hesitate to do so. It helps me out a ton and only makes the story better. The next chapter will be out in around 2 weeks' time, I'm not giving a date because I don't want to rush myself. I'll do my best to get it out as soon as I can. Hope you enjoyed!

- iWrites.