Disclaimer: All hail JK Rowling.

This is an older story that I had up that I've decided to revamp, make chapters longer, ect. I have not done too much editing though, so it's still the same story. I am going to continue it., it's just taken me a while to do so. I apologise for any formatting issues because the original was written in wordpad. I have tried to fix them.

Simple? Not Quite.

Chapter One: Odd Occurences

A mop of shaggy, unruly jet black hair hung from the head of a bespectacled sixteen year old, skinny, over sized cloth wearing, boy known as the 'Boy-Who-Lived', and more currently 'The-Chosen-One.' A sigh escaped his mouth as his bright emerald green, almond shaped eyes stared boredly, yet fervently at the ceiling of the smallest bedroom in the house known as Number Four, Privet Drive. It was summer, mid-July to be exact. So, why wasn't this boy outside in the sunshine, walking around, or doing chores like his Aunt Petunia made him usually? Well, so far, he'd spent most of the summer in the very position he was in now, laying in the dark, head hanging off the side of his bed, staring at either the ceiling or out the window, legs stretching acrossed and hanging down at his knees on the other side of the bed. Though it looked like he was being lazy, he was actually in a rather depressed state of mind. Guilt, heartache, un-fallen tears, and the great feeling of loss of something in the very pit of his heart raged within him. The lose of his godfather, Sirius Black had hit him hard like a sack of nails... without the sack.

'S'all my fault... If I hadn't.. If I'd've listened to Hermione... If only I...' He held back the tears for about the thousandth time that week alone... and it was only Tuesday. Despite his trying, one slipped, but he quickly wiped it away, and sighing, sat up. His Aunt Petunia was calling him down for lunch. He obeyed reluctantly, having refused to eat anything since breakfast the day before. On his way out of his room, the doorbell could be heard ringing and he stopped dead, watching from the upstairs landing above. 'Probably another one of Dudley's stupid friends.' He was proved wrong though, as his aunt opened the door. Instead, standing in the doorway, was a girl.

She was extremely disheveled, though she was also a very pretty little thing if one took the time to be disinterested in that little detail. She was dripping wet and shivering, clad only in a couple of towels. An old ratty, dirty , green one wrapped around her from her chest to halfway down to her knees whilst an even raggier, holey, worn out old blue one was wrapped about her shoulders and head like a shawl. Both were soaked through and dripped down around her bare feet. It was no wonder with the huge storm going on outside... it'd been like that all summer, sudden thunderstorms, rain showers, and once there'd even been hail.

Harry leaned forward on the banister, just a bit, but keeping himself hidden around the corner, behind the wall at the same time, trying to figure out what color hair and eyes she had, though it was impossible when her hair was pretty much completely hidden beneath her towel, and she was too far away for her eyes to be distinguishable. He watched her closely as he let out a shiver and huddled her towels about her just a tad tighter before speaking.

"P-p-please m-m-ma'am... I.. I... I was just w-wondering if... I could possibly stand on your b-b-back porch until th-this s-s-storm blows over? It would mean a lot to me... I.. I could do chores later on... in.. in o-order, t-t-to pay y-you back." The girl gulped, still shivering in what now seemed to be an uncontrollable way. Harry waited, positively sure the girl was going to get yelled at and sent away, never to be seen again, but once again, he was wrong. He watched with shock as his aunt's face softened with a look he had never seen her use before, concern and pity.

"Oh dear! No, no, no! You can come right inside, forget the porch. You just come right on in and we'll get you cleaned up, dried off, and warm. The girl was looking just as shocked as Harry felt.

"I... I couldn't possibly intrude..." The girl stuttered out again, her voice full of fear, hope, chatting teeth, and a delicate softness . It was a very sweet, and pleasant noise if a certain boy of our's did say so himself.

"Oh, it's no problem." Aunt Petunia put a hand on the girl's shoulder and led her inside, closing the door behind her. She then beckoned her upstairs, Harry quickly retreating into his room before he was spotted. He lay down on the floor on his back, listening through the four-year-old cat flap in his door.

"Now you just take a nice warm shower and get cleaned up, you're positively filthy. I'll be back in half hour to check up on you. Water was turned on, there were more footsteps, very familiar as his aunt's, and a door shutting, muffling out the sound of the water.

Harry felt his door open, but he didn't move in time. The cat flap when up and over his head, giving him a very awkward position. He looked up at Aunt Petunia, avoiding the fact that if he tilted his eyes ever so slightly he'd have a good shot of staring up her skirt and that was just something he didn't want to do. His aunt jumped at the sight of his head, with a slight gasp before glaring down at him.

"Boy." She whispered menacingly. "I swear, I will slay you alive!" Harry, ignoring the comment continued to stare back from his rather odd position on the floor. He was used to those kind of threats by now.

"Who is she?" The question left his mouth before he could stop himself.

"None of your business is who she is! Now get downstairs and eat your lunch before she's finished! I don't want you to speak to her when you're around her, which won't be very often, understood?"

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry sighed and slide on his back, pulling his head out of the cat flap. He rose from the floor and left his room as his aunt entered her and her husband's. He heard her rummaging around for something before he ran down the stairs, taking them three at a time and hurried into the kitchen. He gulped down the pathetic lump of cheese between two slices of bread, and downed a glass of milk without even sitting down at the table to do so. He then ran back up to his room, closing his door behind him and resuming his earlier position on his bed. Questions were now running through his mind like a wild fire. Who was this odd girl? Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Was she a with, or a Muggle? Was she in the league with Voldemort, having set some kind of charm on his aunt to get into the house? Had Voldemort sent her to watch him? Or, was she part of the Order? Had his headmaster sent her to keep an eye on him inconspicuously? It was all so very confusing.. and yet intriguing at the same time.

….

It wasn't too much later that we find the hero of our story still lying on his bed, his mind still running over about a million questions he wondered about the strange girl whom had arrived where he had lived for so any years and currently only spent the summers at. Upon the sound of the bathroom door opening though, he shot bolt upright, rolling off his bed to listen at the cat flap in his door as he had been doing earlier. What he heard next was possibly the sweetest sound he could imagine; a soft, sweet, and nervous sounding voice.

"Ma'am?" Footsteps sounding, coming up the stairs and down the hallway to the bathroom directly acrossed from Harry's bedroom. They were the very familiar footsteps of his Aunt Petunia, her voice following after them almost immediately

"Are you done dear?"

"Yes... but… I…"

"No worries dear. Just come along, that's right, just right on in here." The footsteps went along and a door closed, most likely the one leading into Vernon and Petunia's bedroom by the sound of it's creaking.

Harry sighed and laid there in silence for quite a bit. He heard the two leave the bedroom and head downstairs after a good half an hour of hearing nothing, but he stayed put so as not to upset his aunt and uncle as he was known to do so many times in his life so far. He would have much rather stayed right where he was had it been any normal day, but it wasn't. There was a strange girl down there that could have been sent by Voldemort, or the Order, or she could have just been a plain Muggle girl.

The storm that had been horrendous earlier seemed to have decided it was through with this town of nearly identical houses and their prissy owners. Birds were now chirping, raindrops were leaking off the edges off roofs, people were coming out of their houses the enjoy the sun before it rained again, and still Harry stayed put. He sat there for a long time, just pondering and staring at the ceiling with a rather blank look on his face. Uncle Vernon came home, Dudley could be heard in the room next to the bathroom fooling around with his punching bag, and the smells of supper wafted through the entire house, tempting everyone's stomachs to growl hungrily.

"Suppertime!" Aunt Petunia yelled from the kitchen. Dudley raced (as well at a big fat tub of large can run) down the stairs at the sheer mention of food, his feet pounding noisily. Harry rose from his bed and followed him, stopping at the top of the stairs to see whether he was welcome or not. Needless to say he was feeling exceptionally hungry right about now (or curious about a little someone), and he wanted to eat. He stared questioningly down at his Aunt who sighed and nodded.

"Yes, you too boy. We're eating out in the garden. I don't want any funny business understood? Behave yourself. Now hurry up, everyone else is already at the table." Even though her voice was as strict as it always was when she spoke to him, Harry was used to it. He made his way down stairs, taking the steps two at a time and skipping the last three as he did when he was told to be quick. He made his way through the kitchen and the greenhouse room connected to it, heading out onto the garden patio where the picnic table was set up.

Uncle Vernon had seated himself on one of the short benches at the end of the table, Aunt Petunia sat acrossed from him, speaking to Dudley about something, though the fat boy just kept shaking his head and refusing his mother's please. Dudley was taking up one whole side of the table, having placed himself in the center of the long bench so there wasn't enough space for another human being to sit on either side of him and eat comfortably without getting knocked into. The girl from earlier was seated on the bench acrossed from Dudley's, hardly taking up any space at all, her lips unmoving as she stayed silent, nodding her head politely as she listened to Uncle Vernon drone on about his drill business, Grunnings.

She was clean a tidy now, her ebony black hair brushed out thoroughly and plaited to a point. It reminded Harry of a girl from a book he had to read back in his third year of grade school, The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke. The girl now wore a pale green spaghetti strap tank top that stated in purple glittery fabric paint that she was 'Sweet as a cookie when pleased. Best to run away from when angered.' It was definitely something that looked as though the shirt had been bought blank and then written on. Beneath this shirt the girl wore a darker green skirt the looked extremely light and foofy, the kind that goes upwards when one spins around in it and doesn't have a zipper or any sort, just elastic. The girl's feet where just about the smallest one's Harry'd ever seen before. They were clad in a simple pair of green, rainbow polka dotted flip-flops.

When Harry sat down beside her on the bench and as far away as possible so not to upset anyone, she looked over at him with a very sweet smile. Her eyes were a shining deep sapphire blue, a color he only knew existed in a deep velvety blue, star filled nighttime Hogwarts' sky. He stared at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. At this her shoulders shrugged up and she lets out a small single giggle before speaking. "Hi."

Her smile, giggle, and single word were all so cute that Harry could do nothing but give her a silly lopsided grin back, unable to manage anything else. He then tried to turn away before his aunt or uncle could see, but he just couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off her's. They were such an odd color it was mesmerizing.

"Boy!" Aunt Petunia's sharp voice broke Harry's state of being just about hypnotized. He jumped in shock and look at her as innocently as he could manage. "I believe our guest has told you hello. Be polite and reply to her." Harry blinked and then started mouthing soundlessly, unable to get a single word out causing his aunt to sigh with frustration.

"You'll have to excuse him dear, he's just not quite right in the mind you know." This statement received an amused snort out of Dudley who was currently stuffing his face with a hot dog.

"Potter's retardedly thick alright. A real nutter! He goes around thinking he can cast spells with a stick." His parent's froze at this, staring at him as though they were ready to lash out for his stupidity, but Dudley continued. "His parents were stupid too. They got drunk and crashed their car. That's why Potter's got that big ugly scar on his forehead; it screwed up his brains too. That's why he's such a stupid freak." His father looked ready to say something, but was cut off by the abruptness of Harry rising up. He was fed up with the teasing and bullying of his cousin. The bench flew backwards and he glared at the fat boy with the utmost loathing.

"You know perfectly well that I can! I could turn all of you…" He point at the Dursley's. "… into mice if I tried hard enough and wanted too! I'm not daft!" He tugged his wand out of his waistband, the place where he always kept it when wearing Muggle attire. "If any of you ever say otherwise again… I shall curse you all into oblivion! I've come face to face with Voldemort four times! Each time he's tried to do me in! First as a baby, then with the Sorcerer's Stone! Then with the baskalisk! Then in a graveyard where I watched him kill Cedric! And then last June! His followers hurt five of my friends! The two hurt the worst were and still are my greatest friends! Then one of his followers went and killed Sirius! She killed him! Then…. Now…. You. Can't tell me I'm not what I am!" He stopped shouting, breathing heavily, red in the face. He turned and marched right on out the back gate, his temper boiling mad.

Harry walked as he had done the past summer, letting his feet guide him. Only this time there were tears threatening to fall at the very thought of his lost beloved godfather. He soon found himself in the par, sitting down on the last remaining swing whose chain's hadn't been twisted horridly or broken by Dudley's gang. He wrapped both arms around the chains, reaching up to hold them as well, his toes making the swing go back and forth in a very slow, low, steady motion. To say he was very upset would be an understatement.

After a few minutes of just sitting there, he began calling out, knowing that one of the Order members would most certainly be watching him. They always had at least one of them following him about still, just in case something happened.

"Mrs. Weasley? Mr. Weasley?" Naturally he called for those he'd rather come first, the one's he knew the best and longest. "Lupin? Tonks? Moody? Kingsley? Mc-…" He was cut off by a very familiar voice.

"I'm here Harry. What is it dear?" He turned to find Mrs. Weasley untangling herself from among a bunch of bushes just acrossed the playground area of the park and felt a surge of thankful relief.

"I… I…" No, I refuse to cry. I'm not going to cry like some little weak boy. No, I won't I… bugger, too late. He gave up trying not too, and let a few desperately needed tears fall. He rose from the swing and just about ran to his best friend's mother. She wrapped him up with her arms in one of those bone crushing, motherly hugs he had come to love so much. Once she did so he allowed himself to cry just a little bit harder, the empty space in his heart where Sirius had been aching in an awful sort of way. He felt a hand reach up and smooth his hair back as though it had done this many, many times before. Naturally, with seven children of her own, Mr. Weasley had to be good at this sort of thing by now.

"Shhh dear, it's alright. I'm right here, calm down."

"I…I just can't take it anymore." Harry states, blinking his eyes as the tears stopped flowing. He stepped back and rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, drying it. "I just blew up at them completely! Not like they didn't deserve it, but…"

"I know I saw. It's alright for you to be angry with them Harry, they're retched Muggles. But you really must learn to control your temper around innocent bystander Muggles. That poor girl went flying when you kicked over that bench. She's got some bruises on the back of her legs and a rather skinned up knee from hitting the table as well."

"I didn't mean too. I didn't know I'd… Was there blood?"

"Quite a bit dear, but she'll be fine."

"Good… I guess. D'you think you could tell…?" Harry started but Mrs. Weasley raised a hand to silence him knowingly.

"Will do. Ron and Hermione have… well, let's just say they miss you enough to attempt to come and rescue you themselves. I've had to take away their wands and contain them to their bedrooms more than once in the past week alone! Ginny too, just not so much. All of them seem to think you desperately need them to keep you from becoming suicidal after…"

"Tell them if I was suicidal I'd already be dead." Harry states with a slight smile at the thought of Ron and Hermione banging on their bedroom doors in a desperate attempt to get out of them to come and see him. He could even picture Ron flying out of his bedroom window on his broom, grabbing Hermione from her's and both of them flying off towards Little Whining, Surrey. "After what Dumbledore told me end of last year, do they really think I'd leave the entire world mortally doomed?"

"Apparently so. I'll let them know you're fine. Lupin'll be on duty in about half an hour. I best get back under cover alright. Goodbye, be careful and stay strong Harry."

"Bye Mrs. Weasley." Harry watched as she left and disappeared among the bushes once more. He was then caused to jump about a foot in the air in shock at the sudden sound of a soft, sweet voice stating clearly…

"Excuse me?"

And there you have it! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and that the grammar wasn't too much to bare. Please lmemme know what you thought, I love hearing from you.

Hugs and love,

S.Q.O.