Disclaimer: Ghellie is not ownings the Misters and Misses in the tales, they is belongings to Mistress Rowling and them Comumpanies that makes her books and fill-ems. Also Ghellie is not ownings The Goo Goo Dolls songs and wordings, but she is very much likings when Mistress plays them on the Muggle wireless.

Ghellie wishes to informs the Muggles reading that is startings at the ends of Mistress Rowling's fifth book, and she suggests you is reading them all firsts.

Also Ghellie is hoping to write 12ish chapters of this tale. She hopes you is liking and wishes you happy Harrying!

Dizzy Up the Boy
By Ghellie

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find word to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake. Vernon was muttering about freaks and lawsuits under his breath.

They soon reached the car, Vernon helping Harry put his trunk in the boot, looking furtively over his shoulder, seeing if there was anybody watching him. Harry was surprised, he didn't think his Uncle would be nasty as hell, but his helping was not what he imagined either, this soon at least.

The trip back to Surrey was silent. Silent I can handle, thought Harry, silent is fine. For one his mind was not chewing over the events of the last week or so, the war that was upon the magical world. Instead thoughts wondered to his family. Not his blood relatives, but the ones bound to him by the much stronger force of love. Memories of them all, his happy times during the year were all that came to him, sweetened by the blissful sun in the window and the fact his relatives were leaving him alone. All too soon they pulled into the curb out the front of number 4 Private Drive. Again, nobody spoke as they went into the house, Harry retreating to his bedroom. It was exactly as he had left it, bed turned down, the door on Hedwig's cage still open. A fine layer of dust covered everything. Soon all his things were put away, including schoolbooks under the loose floorboard. Dumbledore had left him a surprise in his trunk, somehow.

Dear Harry

In our brief meeting last week, I am afraid I did not get to offer my condolences at the recent loss of your godfather. Sirius was everything a Gryffindor was meant to be, and there was no person more loyal to your parents than he.

The reading of his will has been postponed until we can prove his innocence. I do believe you know what this means.

I have enclosed some books to make your holidays somewhat less… boring? I suggest you read "Wandless Wonder" by Jocelyn Dimble first. It may make accessing the other books slightly easier and more legal.
Until we meet again, Harry.

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Leader of the Order of the Phoenix

Wandless magic sounds good, thought Harry. He quickly found the wandless magic book amongst his possessions and began to look for the other books his Headmaster mentioned, eventually coming across a miniature trunk. How the heck was he supposed to unshrink them? Underage wizards were not to use their wands outside school. Then he worked it out. Smacking himself in the head he began to read.

A few hours later he knew the basics of wandless magic. Turns out that it was largely undetectable, that's why the Ministry did not advise magical people to use it. It was also quite difficult to master as Harry found out after a few tries at turning a matchstick into a needle. He just could not focus for it, and was just getting frustrated, eventually setting the match on fire, by accident of course. After stomping the flame out, he heard his name being called downstairs. The Dursley's were all seated around the kitchen table waiting for him. The meal, bangers and mash was eaten once again in stillness. After his offer to help clean up was met by a refusal from his aunt Harry disappeared up to his room, determined to get this wandless thing right. He found that keeping busy left no time for him to dwell on the latest events at Hogwarts.

In the wee hours of the morning Harry Potter turned his match into a needle.

The next day Harry awoke mid morning. Surprised that nobody had awoken him, he went down to find himself some breakfast. On the table was set out a bowl of cereal, a pitcher of milk and toast was sitting in the toaster, ready to be cooked, alongside a note from his uncle informing him that they were going shopping and would return before dinner. No chores left, nothing. Harry allowed his mind to relax; perhaps they were really trying to change. The threats that his surrogate family made were taking effect on the muggles. Smiling to himself he tucked in to breakfast, thinking that if his family were trying this hard, that he could afford to offer to help a bit. After breakfast, he went about cleaning the kitchen up a bit. Deciding he had done enough, he returned to his room to practice a bit more magic.

Looking at his needle from last night, he thought perhaps a charm could be done next. Finding an old quill he put it on the desk, pointed his hand towards it and thought of it floating into the air. "Wingardium levosa" he spoke aloud and opened his eyes. The quill was floating about a foot from the top of the desk. This is easy! Harry thought. I just have to see it happening in my head. He moved onto trying other spells from his old schoolbooks. Soon his room was full of transfigured and charmed objects. Happy, but thoroughly exhausted Harry lay on his bed for a nap after shrinking down all his school items in his trunk, even his Firebolt. He didn't know if the Dursley's newfound kindness would extend to his magical background.

In the past day he barely thought of the department of mysteries. He felt happiness and hope for the first time in a while. Perhaps, he pondered, it was not his fault that Sirius had died. That the Wizarding world would be safe while he was here in Little Whinging. The weight in the area of his stomach was still there though. Perhaps with time it would go, stop gnawing at him when his mind was not busy.

Harry was awoken by the sound of the car in the driveway. Trying to be polite, he went downstairs to welcome his relative's home, offering to help them with the bulky packages they were extracting from the boot of the car. His Uncle's insistence that he went inside to wash up for dinner was met with a leap of joy from his heart. Things are going to be good here now, they're ok with me!

Harry's aunt met him at the bottom of the stairs.

"I thought it might be nice if Dudders, you and I went to see a movie this evening" she simply said, her voice betraying nothing. "Go and put your nice clothes on and we will leave soon". Harry was gobsmacked. He had never been to a movie before, whenever the Dursley family had gone anywhere in the past he was sent over to Mrs. Figg's house to look at her cats. Rushing upstairs and changing into the least baggy and frayed of his clothing took all of two minutes. Dudley and Aunt Petunia were waiting in the car. His uncle waved them off with a vague 'mind you behave yourself boy' to Harry.

During the movie which was as exciting and fun as he had imagined it to be, his aunt and cousin kept looking at him as if he might explode at any moment. Or that 'freaks' would come bursting in if they said the wrong thing. All their conversation was strained and polite. Dudley even shared his mega sized bucket of popcorn with Harry. A few hours later they drove home in the starry night, Harry almost at peace with the world.

However, the closer they got to Private Drive, the bigger the butterflies seem to get in his stomach. Vernon Dursley was waiting for them on the doorstep.
"Harry, can you please come with me? Those... people have sent you a message. I have put it in your room."
"Cool!" Harry smiled. A perfect ending to… well the best day he had ever had here. He led the way to his bedroom. Walking into the darkness his uncle closed the door behind them and switched on the light.

Harry's heart caught in his throat beating a million times a minute.