Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: All Harry Potter characters are exclusively owned and copyrighted by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers. I am neither gaining profit nor assuming credit for these characters.

Chapter 1

When the light blue Volvo pulled in to the smooth black gravel driveway of the Granger household, Harry had mixed feelings. While the anxiety over Voldemort constantly pulled at the back of his mind, Harry also missed spending the past two summers at the Weasley's. The Dursley's had pretty much disowned Harry and he couldn't be happier at that. But the dark fact of the matter was that no wizarding family was safe harboring Voldemort's greatest enemy. This became almost fatality clear when the Weasley's barely escaped Voldemort's wrath alive last summer.

Under Dumbledore's advice, it was thought best that Harry spend the summer before his seventh and last year at Hogwarts with the Granger's. Dumbledore saw it as a great benefit to Harry that all Death Eaters despised muggles to the point of having no desirable knowledge about them. Even though it was no doubt well known that Hermione was one of Harry's closest friends, and a muggle at that, even Voldemort would be hard pressed to find out where she lived. What Death Eater would want to dirty themselves with such muggle items as a phone book?

With a smile Hermione turned to Harry and chimed, "We're here!" The two teenagers stepped out of the backseat as Mr. and Mrs. Granger--already out--went to the trunk to pull out the luggage.

"Welcome to our home, Harry," Mrs. Granger said cheerfully. "I hope you'll treat it as your own."

"Thank you," Harry said, respectfully.

Harry didn't know how to feel about spending the summer with Hermione and her parents. They were nice enough, sure. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were more than happy to help protect Harry and even understood the risks involved. But a summer with Hermione? Harry would be seventeen soon, and Hermione soon after that. They both had the kind of knowledge that sixteen-year-olds had. As with any friendship between a boy and a girl, one's mind couldn't leave it at a childhood level anymore, there were overtones that couldn't be completely ignored, though Harry attempted. He wasn't blind, despite his poor vision. Hermione had the body of a young woman now, and a very attractive one at that. But for Harry, the subconscious waters of unconditioned desire remained stagnant beneath the ice-covering of his conscious mind and the importance of their friendship.

The Granger house was modestly middle class, just one storey as opposed to the many added layers of the Weasley home. It was situated deep within English suburbia and was clean above all else. The small porch with quaint little gardens of sideways potted plants on either side of the walkway led to a solid deep brown door. With clunky luggage trailing behind, the Grangers and Harry shuffled their way inside. A short tile pathway greeted Harry, with an off-white wall on the right and a lowered living room on the left filled with a classical piano, chip-and-dale imitation chairs, and a low coffee table with a glass top. The tile walkway emptied into a perpendicular hallway that led left "to the bedrooms" and right to the "family room and kitchen."

"I'm sorry to say, Harry but we have only the two rooms, the master bedroom and Hermione's further down the hall. The couch in the living room turns into a bed, so you'll have to sleep there." Mr. Granger said. He was a gentle man with light brown hair, slightly balding.

"Please, I'm grateful for your hospitality," Harry responded truthfully. "With Ron I had to share a room, but even that was great compared to the Dursleys."

"Yes," Hermione rang in. "Well now you'll have a room to yourself, and the telly's in there as well."

"You can use the hall bathroom to change, Harry," Mrs. Granger said. She too had a kind complexion and long, fried brown hair. So that's where Hermione gets it. "Now lets all unpack."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger headed left down the hall with Hermione's things, but she followed Harry into the family room to help.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione finally blurted out, she had been fidgeting all the way home and was finally giving vent to her excitement. "We're going to have so much fun! We can sleep in and I can show you my neighborhood and after work my parents can take us to my old elementary school one day this week." Somehow she looked like she was jumping without even moving. "Then we can have a real celebration for your birthday and we have a pool too in the backyard we can go swimming in and there's a field a block away I can show you. Oh, and when we get our new books from Diagon Alley we can read through them together before classes start! Oh, we're going to have so much fun!"

Everything sounded fine with Harry except reading all those books at the end. But honestly he was excited too. No summer with the Dursley's and not half as much anxiety about Voldemort as with the past two summers. For once he could take a break from it all. Did he even have a pair of swimming trunks?

As the two finished unpacking Harry's trunk, there came a sudden pecking at the kitchen window that looked out into the backyard. The two ran over and their suspicions were confirmed by the sight of a dirty little owl.

"Erol!" Harry said as Hermione ran to the sliding glass door that led into the back patio. Erol found his way to the patio doorway, dropped off the little note in his beak, and squeaked before flying off, slamming into the backyard fence before clearing away.

"I think I'll get Ron a new owl for his Birthday," Harry said.

"Yes, but it wouldn't be half as funny," Hermione said, giggling. She picked up the note and opened it before the two read it aloud.

Harry and Hermione,

Ron

P.S. Ginny says hi.

Now if Harry would just get a letter from Sirius he could really relax.

"Well, I'm glad everything's alright," Hermione said. "That was a nasty scare last summer."

Harry nodded.

"But no more talk about that. Like Ron said, let's forget about it for a while. Now come on, let me show you my room."