IMPORTANT A/N: I have this story set during the summer of Harry's soon-to-be sixth year, so he's not quite 16 yet. I did that because when the characters are at a younger age, you can evoke more emotion out of them and I think some things would sound too mushy if it were said when they were older and I wanted the characters to still be at an age when they're still a bit immature. So, I know almost everyone is writing present stories (ones preceding after Harry's 6th year), but this is my reason for setting it back a year and a half. Enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or related items. They all belong to J.K Rowling, Warner Bros., and Scholastic books.

Chapter One: Dwelling on the past-

Harry Potter had been sitting in that damp, musty room residing within Number 12 Grimmauld Place for quite awhile. Harry had been staying at the burrow, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had to attend the meetings here for the Order. Mrs. Weasley insisted that the family come when there was a meeting, but Harry believed that it was really Headmaster Dumbledore who had insisted that they all come, mainly for Harry's safety. He wasn't sure why, but something about that thought made him feel irritated. It bothered him when he couldn't go anywhere without being watched. It made him feel like a child. And he was not a child. Not anymore. So for the time being he had retreated up to one of the bedrooms to be alone if only for a while. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione, but he had brought his photo album with him in his coat. He just had that longing feeling to take it with him. He had been up in that bedroom for almost half an hour now, just flipping through it over and over again. Part of him wanted to get up and leave, but the other part of him begged him to stay for just a while longer and linger on those forgotten photos he had purposely neglected for quite some time. True, sometimes he did enjoy looking at those old photographs of his parents, but more often than not he felt haunted by them… by those smiling faces so unaware about what was to come. The feeling often made his stomach churn. And every time he looked into they're eyes and knot formed in his throat, and he would get that horrible feeling… the feeling that no matter how long he stared and silently pleaded, he would never see them… never get to meet them. That's why he would wait so long before looking at those photos again. But there were times when he missed them so much he had to look at those photos, or he knew he'd feel guilty for ignoring them. Today was one of those days.

Ron Weasley sat facing an intense game of Wizard's Chess against… himself. Okay, so actually, he was finding it to be quite boring, but no one else wanted to battle him. He had really wanted to play against his best friend, Harry (since he was the only person Ron could ever beat). But Harry had been upstairs for quite sometime, and Ron knew better than to bother him when he could tell Harry wanted to be left alone. Harry was one of those people that sometimes needed space to think about things. Hermione was like that too. Ron couldn't understand it, he sighed to himself, didn't they ever get lonely? Coming to the conclusion that there was nothing else to do, he decided to beat himself (for the fourth time in a row) at a game of wizard's Chess. Now that he thought about it he did need Pig to send a letter off for him… where was that stupid owl anyways?

Hermione Granger sat in an armchair next to the cold, damp fireplace, looking pensive for a moment. Suddenly hitting inspiration, she bit her bottom lip, dipped her quill in ink, and began writing on her piece of parchment. When she had finished her last sentence she held her completed essay out in front of her and beamed. It was perfect. Now, she thought to herself, all she had to do was revise it a few times, make sure all of her grammar was correct, edit it, re-write it again, and then it would be satisfactory and ready to turn in. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for doing such a smashing job. Not even Snape would have an excuse to give this essay a low mark. Smiling she looked over at Ron who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, determined to outwit himself at Wizard's Chess. She still had no idea what the point of it was. I mean, he was playing both sides, so no matter what he would win. It just went to show how easily Ron could be entertained. Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew Ron was going to procrastinate until the day before school started up to finish his essay and then beg for her to help him. She was sure that Harry on the other hand, had at least started his. Hermione looked around. Where was her best friend anyway? She gently blew on her ink to help it dry before carefully rolling up her essay and setting it on the small table that stood next to her chair. She stretched her back and went off to search for Harry, as she left, she heard Ron give a loud 'whoop!' of triumph at winning against himself again.

As soon as Hermione headed for the stairs, Ron ran up behind her. "Where are you off too?" he asked, desperate to hang out with someone other than himself.

Hermione began climbing the stairs, "to look for Harry. I wanted to see how much of his essay he completed."

"Gee, that sounds… fun." Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Well, I'm not forcing you to come." Said Hermione.

Ron just shrugged. When they reached the bedroom door, Hermione reached for the handle.

"Wait!" whispered Ron. "We'll use the element of surprise."

"The element of surprise?" Hermione repeated raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yea," replied Ron, "You have to be quiet. Then I'll open the door really quick and you yell."

Hermione stared at him. "That's it? Open the door and yell?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yea, that will give him a fright."

But Ron didn't seem to have heard last sarcastic remark. "Alright." He whispered, "On my count… one… two… thr-"

But before Ron could open it the bedroom door swung open on it's own catching Ron by surprise. He fell back and gave a small yelp. Harry stood in the doorway looking down at Ron with a confused expression.

Hermione looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. "Wow, you're good."

Harry didn't know what she was talking about and he didn't ask, he just walked past them.

"Where are you headed?" Asked Hermione curiously.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk." He muttered, wanting to clear his head.

"But, your not allowed." She burst out in her bossy tone. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and looked down at the floor. She knew better than anyone that Harry hated being told what he could and couldn't do. He hated it here, in the old, musty house being cooped up all day while the Order was having secret meetings that he wasn't invited to. "Sorry." Hermione sheepishly murmured, "I-I didn't mean for it to come out like that." She looked up at him. "I'm just concerned for your safety, The Order only wants what's best for you."

"Yea, I can tell." Harry muttered, casting a distasteful look at the dingy house. He continued walking towards the door.

Hermione jumped in front of him. "Harry…" she said with a sympathetic look.

"What," he said with a small smile; "You're going to rat me out to the Order, are you?"

Hermione looked at him in the eyes and bit her lip. It was a moment before she answered, "Just-just be back within the hour, or the adults are bound to notice."

Harry smiled thankfully at her and Hermione gave a reluctant smile back.

"We'll cover your back." Said Ron as Harry quietly went out the door.

Hermione stood there, staring at the closed door with a worry written all over her face.

"Don't worry about him." Said Ron walking over to her, "He'll be fine."

"Well, he has the advance guard for a reason, Ron." She said defensively.

"Well, he's Harry. There's no stopping him."

Hermione slowly nodded. Seconds later to their right, most of the Order of the Phoenix began filtering out of the kitchen where they had just finished their weekly meeting. Snape swept out the front door without so much as a glance or a word, others slowly made their way out as well, until the only people remaining downstairs were Remus Lupin, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley; their sons Fred and George and Albus Dumbledore.

"Well," said Ron as he gestured towards the kitchen, "shall we have lunch?"

Hermione nodded again and they both entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was setting a plate of sandwiches on the dusty table and then began scrounging in the kitchen drawer for napkins. When the two of them entered, Mrs. Weasley beamed at them. "Oh, just in time, you two. I've made lunch." She pulled out some yellowed napkins, took one look at their unnatural color and then chucked them in the rubbish bin with her nose still crinkled in disgust. She looked back up at Ron and Hermione. "Where's Harry?" she said with concern.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. "Well, er…" began Hermione. Sensing her hesitance about being dishonest, Ron stepped in, "he's asleep… upstairs. He said he wasn't hungry, so, yeah." Ron looked at his mother with the most convincing face he could.

"Oh, the poor dear." She whispered. "Well, I'll save him a sandwich for later."

"Good idea." Said Ron quickly as he and Hermione took a seat at the table. Professor Lupin and Dumbledore seemed to be in deep conversation about something. Ron looked at Hermione, "Aren't you going to eat something?"

Hermione just stared down at the faded mahogany table and muttered, "not hungry." She was apparently still worried about Harry.

Ron shrugged and leaned over the table to grab a sandwich, but before he could clasp his fingers around his food, a loud, earsplitting crack resounded throughout the kitchen and the table, cabinets, everything shook for a moment before the loud cracking noise was replaced by a blinding flash of white light. They all covered their eyes, jaw-dropped and confused. Mr. Weasley murmured, "what in Merlin's name…" as the light began to dim. Lupin was on his feet, his wand raised. Dumbledore was on his feet to, but he seemed calmer about whatever this strange disturbance was. They all stared at the middle of the kitchen where the last sign of the odd light had diminished. Everything looked fine and intact as though nothing had happened. How strange…

Until out of nowhere a small, "owww…" was issued behind them. They all jumped and looked around.

"Harry?" said Mrs. Weasley in confusion, staring down at the figure that had made the noise. He was sitting on the floor with a pained expression on his face. He slowly began to rise to his feet, rubbing his back as though he had just landed on it. He had scraggly black hair and round glasses, so there was no mistaking that it was Harry. But, what in Merlin's name was he doing in his school uniform?

Harry didn't seem to have heard Mrs. Weasley say his name. Mr. Weasely gawked at him. "Was… was all this ruckus you? Did you just apparate?" That would have explained the loud crack, thought Mr. Weasley, but… that strange light?

"Uh, yea… something like that. Only, I have no idea how I ended up here…" Harry muttered, rubbing his chin in befuddlement. He looked around. "Hey…" he muttered, realization dawning on him, "this is Sirius's house! I am in the right place. I almost didn't recognize it. It… looks different for some reason."

Everyone exchanged confused glances, except for Dumbledore who remained oddly still and silent.

"What are you talking about?" asked Mr. Weasley. Harry's eyes landed on him. "Who are you? What are you doing in Sirius' house? Your not another one of his bizarre 'kill the muggle-borns' relatives, are you?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and covered her mouth, appalled at his behavior.

"His family is so creepy." Harry said as he walked over to the table, eyeing the sandwiches. "Are these fresh?" He said, picking one up.

"Harry, what is going on?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Harry didn't answer, but kept eyeing his sandwich questioningly.

"Harry…. Harry!"

Harry spun around, "Oh, are you talking to me?"

"Harry, "said Ron, "what are you playing at?"

"Why do you all keep calling me that? It's getting really annoying. Hey, is that pumpkin juice?" Harry said suddenly. He shoved his sandwich in his mouth and bolted over behind Mrs. Weasley where the drinks sat.

Ron looked dumbstruck, Hermione looked fearful and everyone else just looked confused… except for Dumbledore, who suddenly took a step forward. "Harry?" the headmaster whispered quietly. The boy with his back turned to them, pouring his juice, didn't answer, as though he didn't recognize the name. Suddenly, an odd, farfetched thought came to the headmaster and after a moment of hesitancy, he softly whispered, "James…?"

The boy spun around, cup in hand and replied, "Yea?"