03/29/2020 Periodically I review and edit each story I post because I always find errors and I like to enhance the story with bits and pieces of new information. So I have done this to Band of Gypsies, which is the first story in a series.

BAND of GYPSIES

Chapter One

Harry Potter sat on the edge of his bed staring down at his Hogwarts' trunk. He had dropped it there only a short time before.

He thought he would be able to do it; that is, to come back to Privet Drive and stay a month with the Dursleys'. Now, staring blankly at his trunk, he had roused himself enough to realize without his friends around him, the emptiness and the pain he was feeling was about to swallow him whole.

He had just arrived from King's Cross station and stood watching the exchange between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and the members of the Order; his friends. They had, perhaps, unwisely confronted Uncle Vernon and threatened him about treating Harry poorly. Harry now wondered what the repercussions would be, although he wasn't overly concerned. He had no room for worry, his grief was all-consuming.

He continued to sit, the hour growing later and the sun setting in molten gold just outside his window. Evening was drawing closer and Hedwig, his snowy white owl, was repeatedly pecking at her cage. She wanted out to hunt. Harry rose stiffly and unlatched the door to her cage, letting her fly off his arm through the open window into the night. Now, he felt even lonelier, his one and only link left to the wizarding world was gone.

He sat quietly until it grew dark. The Dursleys' could be heard faintly moving about downstairs and unexpectedly Harry heard the cat flap move at his back and a sandwich shoved through it.

Harry peered over his shoulder. It was a sandwich alright, two pieces of bread and a slice of bologna. When punished in the past, dinner was always a cold bowl of soup. Harry wondered if this was the his Aunt's and Uncle's attempt to toe the line after having just been warned to treat him well.

He wasn't hungry but got up and wandered over to the tray. Stuck under one corner of his plate was a note. Curious, he pulled it out and unfolded it. It was from his Aunt, the writing extremely small and precise.

Vernon and I would like to speak to you after you have had your dinner. 7:00 would be a convenient time. Aunt Petunia

Harry continued to remain in his dull, vacant mood and couldn't find the energy to even laugh at the note. His new-found emotional numbness was comfortable, better than the deepening depression threatening to engulf him. Nothing seemed to bother him, not the thought of rejecting- and possibly riling Uncle Vernon- or accepting the invitation and finding out what it was his Uncle and Aunt wanted. He realized, after dropping the note, that he had left them at the beginning of the previous school year under rather unusual circumstances and they might have quite a lot to say to him.

The previous year, a pretense had been made up by Nymphadora Tonks, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and an Auror, as a means to fetch Harry from the Dursleys preferably ahead of any of Voledemort's Death Eaters. Nymphadora, who preferred to be called Tonks, had the Dursleys go off to be awarded a special prize for All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. Harry hadn't given much thought to how the Dursleys would have reacted to it all when they found it was all a contrived falsehood.

All of the events following that event in the year only served to erase the memory from his mind up until this very moment. And now, suffering the fresh, raw pain of his godfather's death, the news Dumbledore had given him about the prophecy and once again being confined at Privet drive served to paralyze him emotionally. Harry dropped the paper on top of his sandwich and went to sit down again. He couldn't find any emotional reserves to be worried or upset by the invitation to talk to his Aunt and Uncle. He decided it was easiest to live one minute at a time and if 7:00 came and he felt obliging he would go down and see what they wanted. And, if he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't.

He thought about the room. How it felt like a prison. It almost had been many times before. His Uncle had even resorted to barring the windows, and locking him in. Now there were no bars and the doors remained open but it still felt like prison.

He felt like he was going insane.

At 7:10 Harry shook himself and stood up. It was pitch dark in his room and the house was quiet. He opened the door and squinted at the yellow hall light. Yes, he could hear the TV. They were downstairs. He moved quietly down the stairs keeping his mind wiped of thoughts. He walked down the hall, through the kitchen and around to the setting room. His Aunt and Uncle were sitting watching a program. His cousin Dudley was strangely absent. Uncle Vernon shuddered when he saw Harry in the doorway.

"Why did you have to come creeping in?" Uncle Vernon blustered. Aunt Petunia hurriedly got up and sat beside him on the couch, her face stony and white. "It's quarter past seven! The note said 7:00!"

Harry stood in the doorway ready to turn and go back to his room. His Aunt must have sensed this because she put a hand on Vernon's arm. "We need to talk," Uncle Vernon started, trying to master his anger. The vein in his temple throbbed dangerously.

Harry entered the room and sat down opposite them. He waited without speaking.

His Aunt nodded at her husband and sat up even straighter. "Well...well…your Aunt and I want you to send an OWL…" Vernon looked at Petunia and she nodded as if to convey he was saying it correctly. "We want you to send an owl to that headmaster of yours, Dundledore."

"You want me to send an owl to Dumbledore?" Harry repeated quietly.

"Yes. Since you have to live here." Vernon looked at his wife again, "I… that is…we...want to know what this Dundledore…"

"Dumbledore, Vernon," Petunia said, quickly cutting in.

"Yes, Dumbledore, what he is going to do to protect us from that Voldemort person and these ruddy Demeanors," he demanded.

"Dementors, Vernon," Harry's aunt added again.

"Whatever! Dementors!" Vernon was fast losing control.

Harry stared at them. He rose to return to his room.

"Well? Are you going to do it?" His uncle rose with him.

Harry nodded and left, returning to his dark room. He was trailed by the sound of his uncle's voice exploding behind him. "Did you see that Petunia? Why, why, if it wasn't for you, I would have bloody flattened that boy!" Harry slipped in through his door and closed it to his aunt's reply.

Harry sent Hedwig off with his Uncle's request a week later. He had taken time to compose the letter. He didn't want to give Dumbledore anything. He wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook, to stop feeling guilty for holding back the information about the Prophecy. And so, the letter was very formal, just a means of forwarding the request and that was all. He asked Dumbledore to politely return his answer by muggle mail and address the reply to his Aunt and Uncle directly. Harry felt some mild pleasure in knowing it would hurt Dumbledore.

Harry still had moments of intense grief with no outlet, followed by stony coldness which surrounded his heart and stifled all feeling. He did manage in the early hours of the day to go out and do some of the chores his Aunt asked him to do by way of a note dropped on his morning breakfast tray. The tray was still placed inside his door every day early in the morning before he woke. It was his Aunts' way of saying he was no longer even welcome to join them at the morning breakfast table.

Harry didn't mind the chores. He was out of the house and working with his hands. Dudley left him alone. He didn't think Dudley would ever treat him quite the same way since he thought Harry had been responsible for the attack by the Dementors the summer before. And for a time, Harry found he was left alone in peace and quiet. He wasn't interested in listening to the news as he had been the previous summer. Then, he had tried to find out if Voldemort was active. Now, the rest of the wizarding world knew Voldemort had returned. Anything reported to the world, rumor and speculation, would be twisted or disguised and there wouldn't be any real news. He also...didn't care.

Mrs. Figg had taken to strolling by the house when she saw Harry out in the yard or cutting the hedge. She walked slowly in an attempt to catch his eye and when he refused to look up, she stopped, glanced around and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. "Hello, Harry."

He stood from his crouched position and nodded to her. He had grown several inches and was now able to actually look down on her. He didn't reply.

"How are you, Harry?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, coldly.

"Good. Good." She nodded once again scanning the street. It was the middle of a warm spring morning.

"Who else is watching me, Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked, dropping the cutters into a bucket and wiping sweat from his brow. His glasses were sliding down his nose and he blinked to clear his vision.

"Oh, I'm not watching you, Harry," she began and when he cocked his head and glared at her, she relented.

"Alright, I am watching you. After last time, Dumbledore is very concerned everything go well now. There are several new people around who are also on guard. Don't be alarmed, you're quite safe."

Harry snorted his derision. "Really!" He found a well of anger rising. "Safe am I? With a squib?"

He knew the minute he said it he was being cruel. She winced and started to leave. "Mrs. Figg, I'm sorry," he said, a little too loudly. She winced again, worried he might blow the cover she was so desperately trying to achieve although pretty much anyone who bothered to investigate would know who she was. She had also been his babysitter for many years and their having a conversation would not be out of the ordinary.

"It's alright, Harry." Although from her expression, he could tell he had hurt her feelings. She stood for a minute more without saying anything and waiting for some kind of response from him. When she didn't get it she said, "I guess I'll be going. Drop by for tea anytime."

"Thank you," he said. He watched her wobble down the street, gritting his teeth. So now everyone is going to feel sorry for me, he thought. I'm trapped! A prisoner, watched, guarded, hunted! For a minute he could feel a rush of anxiety, anger and panic rising like a sour lump into his throat. He'd fought the feeling time and again and the thoughts that brought it on. Harry thought if he let go, if he allowed himself to really think about it all, the tears would come. They were always so close to the surface and it terrified him. Unable to control it, he kicked the bucket at his feet instead and sent it careening across the yard.

It was Ron's letter, and the event which took place later the same night, that finally made him decide what he needed to do. Harry had been spending his evenings lying in the dark on his bed staring at the ceiling. Pigwidgeon had fluttered through the open window, zooming around in the dark until Harry, with lightening quick reflexes born of snatching Quidditch Snitches, grabbed the tiny fluff from the air. He untied the small note and turned on a light to read it.

Dear Harry,

Dumbledore has finally given me and Hermione the go ahead to write to you. I hope you're okay. I'm writing this in a big hurry. We have about an hour to put our things together. We're being moved from home. Dumbledore thinks it's too dangerous for us to live here with the way things are, as you know. So we are going to You- Know-Where. By the time Pig gets this to you we will be there. Just remember its only a VERY short time before you can join us. Lots to tell you about.

Ron

Harry reread the note. Once again, as it had been the previous summer, Ron and Hermione could not give him any news. He knew it was worthless to send a letter begging for information. He dropped the letter into his desk drawer and switched off the light.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley left a note on his dinner tray saying they were going out to supper at a new restaurant. An associate of Uncle Vernon's had made the invitation, purely to win a new position at the drill company his uncle worked for. Uncle Vernon boasted rather loudly so Harry could overhear him that the man… "the young pup" needed a father image and had chosen him as his new mentor. Harry stared open mouth at his uncle on his one trip to the kitchen. Dumping his tray of uneaten food into the trash bin, he hurriedly washed up and left the room.

Afterward he lay in the dark and listened to his stomach growl. He was normally a thin person and having lost his appetite made eating a chore. His hand-me down clothes were hanging on him even more than usual and he couldn't afford to lose more weight. He contemplated taking a trip to the kitchen for a piece of fruit when he heard a rustling noise downstairs. He immediately experienced déjà vu, remembering the noises his rescuers had made the summer before.

It's too early, he thought, I've only been here for two weeks. It was way too early for Professor Lupin or Moody to fetch him back to No. 12 Grimmauld place. Dumbledore had told him he must spend at least one month out of his summer vacation with the Dursleys in order for his mother's blood protection to have an effect.

He rose quietly from the bed. Putting his eye to a crack in the door, he saw an eerie green light shining in the downstairs hall. This time his heart raced wildly and he searched in the dark for his wand.

He had been careless with his Hogwarts trunk and his wizarding things. His first day of being back, he'd shoved them under his bed and hadn't bothered to drag his books out to start his vacation homework. Now, he searched frantically in the dark. He didn't care if he got in trouble this time. Things had changed. If he got expelled for using magic to protect himself, then so be it. And he wanted to hurt someone, and maybe even kill the person down in the kitchen.

Then, suddenly as he searched, there were bright lights of a car pulling in the drive, car doors slamming and the sound of the Dursleys returning.

There was resonating silence, as if the returning family had entered the house and stopped in a state of stunned silence. Then, Harry listened to a muffled bellowing from Uncle Vernon and his heavy steps plodding up the stairs. Vernon threw open his door and found Harry laying on his belly reaching under the bed.

"COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT! he shouted. Harry hesitated and Uncle Vernon's chubby fist grabbed his collar and yanked him to his feet. Pushing Harry in front of him, they walked down the stairs. Harry's aunt and his cousin stood at the entrance to the house, his aunt's face thin with fear and his cousin's pressed in against his mother, stuttering and drooling incoherently.

Harry was bodily pushed down the hall. "WHAT ARE THESE?" His uncle pushed him towards scorch marks made on a pristine white wall. A heavy fist shoved him in the back. "GO ON. LOOK IN THERE!" Harry shook his uncle's hand off and proceeded down the hall into the kitchen. There were more marks and as he stepped into the light he stopped, stunned. The appliances were melted, lumpy pools of metal and plastic. Written, as if blasted from the plaster wall, were the words-HE KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE, TIME FOR YOU TO DIE.

Harry turned wordlessly and walked past Vernon, past Aunt Petunia and his groaning cousin, Dudley. He climbed the stairs as Uncle Vernon stood at the bottom shouting at him, "You send a BLOODY OWL to that DIMBLEDORE fellow and tell him to come and FETCH YOU TONIGHT! I won't have you here ONE MORE MINUTE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I WILL NOT HAVE MY WIFE AND MY SON HARMED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Harry shut the door on his Uncle's words and stood looking into the star-studded night outside his window. Dark wizards have been here, he pondered. How could they have done that? Why isn't it safe here?

Pulling open his closet, he scrounged and found a knapsack. Hurriedly, he pulled his trunk out and stuffed his wand, his traveling cloak, his father's Invisibility Cloak given to him at Christmas by Dumbledore, and a set of robes into it. Along with those, he included some muggle clothing. He counted muggle change and his wizarding money and dumped all of it in the bottom of the bag. Glancing at Hedwig he took time to scribble a note, tie it to her leg and set her off into the night. He slid out the door after giving one last glance at his schoolbooks and trunk laying open and left behind on the floor. His Firebolt glimmered in the corner and he swallowed hard shutting the door on the sight of it.

This time, Harry thought, I'm not afraid. The Dursleys were not present when he made his way down the stairs. He could hear them in the kitchen, Aunt Petunia sobbed through the thin walls. "Oh Vernon, what are we going to do?"

"Don't you worry dear, he'll be out in the morning. They won't dare wait for me to call the police and expose them all."

"Oh Vernon, you can't do that!" Aunt Petunia's voice rang out in shock.

"I can and I will!" Uncle Vernon shouted and then softened. "Petunia, what if we had been home earlier?" and so on.

Harry waited for just a moment and then slid out the front door. He picked up the new speed bike leaning carelessly against the hedge where Dudley had dumped it earlier in the day. Harry had never ridden a bike, since he'd never owned one. He hoped it was as easy as riding a broom.