A/N: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling, or Pottermore. Any Characters, items, or significant lines/copyrighted material belongs to its creators. This is a statement for all following chapters. I make no profit from this writing exercise.

Number Four Privet Drive was a beautiful house, it had an immaculately mowed lawn, beautiful flowerbed, and it seemed to pulse with intensity. Magic seemed to empower the house itself. Passing people spoke of its beauty, neighbors congratulated the owners, and not a soul paid heed to the source of the beauty, the source of the magic.

Harry had been told about the state of the wards by his godfather, that they were nearly dead and needed him to recharge them. Sirius gave Harry a book on runes and a basic overview of the ward scheme on the house, and a valuable book written by John Potter, Harry's Great-Grandfather.

John Potter created the national wards that detected the use of under aged magic by its slightly different signature from an adult's magic. In Sirius' notes he explained the wards tracked the magic based on its immature quality, equating it to a persons' voice. As a person gets older their voice deepens, becoming more mature and less childlike, the same is true for magic, it 'deepens' as the witch or wizard gets older. One key difference that Sirius pointed out is that unlike a voice, magic can be easily manipulated into behaving like it's older than it is. Harry was preforming exercises that allowed him to keep his magic deeper, longer. The problem with deepening his magic like he was is that it would force his body to mature faster, to keep up with the demand of the magic, which could easily shorten his natural lifespan.

'My natural lifespan was shortened when Voldemort targeted me' Harry thought when he read that.

The exercises were such that if he performed them every night they would have a compounding effect, the more often he did them the more his magic deepened. The problem is that a young person's magic will restore itself quickly, so Sirius suggested using that to Harry's advantage, if he would perform the exercises once every night, for a week then move to every three nights, he wouldn't get hit hard with the physical backlash.

Harry had been practicing magic in the confines of his room for four days, he would leave at eight in the morning and get back in his room at about five, this gave him time to do the chores the Dursley's mandated while giving him ample free time to write his essays. With Sirius's reputation Vernon was barely willing to even raise his voice against Harry, apparently Sirius tormented the man when Lily invited James and Sirius over, and Vernon happened to be there.

One day Harry had gotten out of gardening because the pouring rain, and he noticed a book on his bed, one that hadn't been there that morning. The book was a leather bound journal about the size of his standard book of spells, the largest tome he needed for school.

Attached to the cover was a sticky note that read What do you solemnly swear?

Grinning like a loon Harry placed his wand tip on the cover of the book and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Before his eyes the gentle brown of the book melted away to a deep black, with golden lettering that read The Grimoire of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Marauders and brothers in magic. Harry couldn't believe his eyes, over this last year Hermione had spoken occasionally about Grimoires, books of ancient and powerful magics. They had no equal in knowledge or the ability to contain an entire library between their covers. As he opened the front cover he saw a different note, scribed in Sirius' elegant hand.

Harry, this book was the brain child of your dad, Remus, Peter, and myself, it contains every spell we created, every spell we altered, and our notes on pranks, potions, and the Animagus transformation. James and I passed a law on the Wizengamot that if there was not legal prosecution on a person acts such as attempting, and succeeding on becoming an Animagus did not need to be registered, this means that as long as your magic is deep enough to fly under the radar you can use our notes to complete the transformation. There are three methods, we discovered one of them in Hogwarts because we did not know how the transformation was done. You can find all three methods outlined in this book, and I recommend that you use this to your advantage.

James comes from the Ancient and Noble house of Potter, simply put, you have money and prestige. I can't name a family as old as ours (the Blacks are also Ancient and Noble) that can be considered well and truly 'light'. Your Great-Great-Grandfather, John Potter's father, taught Grindewald all that he knew about the dark arts, and if you're to kill Voldemort you need to be able to arm yourself to your teeth. That means you need to change your electives, I think that Trewlany is an underestimated woman, but you're not a seer. Arithmacy and Runes would allow you to create spells and wards, and destroy wards. Both are very important tools in the belt of a fighter.

Pup, I wish that you didn't need to change, and I wish that you could have had a normal childhood, but you said you wanted a family. That means I want you to have a family, so you have to pull your self-righteous head out of your arse and get to learning. Voldemort will come back soon, Dumbledore told me the prophecy you heard a few weeks ago, this book contains spells that will befuddle the mind, boil blood, and cause someone's own body to attack them. Some people think of your mother and father as saints, kindly deliver a message for me; Fuck off. Lily found out about Remus' condition in her sixth year and offered exactly what we did, to break the present law and become an Animagus to help with his transformations. That was the turning point in Lily and James' relationship, no longer did she see an arrogant ass, she saw a pureblood lord with a right to an ego, and an actual ability and drive to help people. Sorry, bit of a tangent, the point is that some of the darkest spells in this book will cause your enemies to spontaneously combust, or their blood to stop carrying oxygen, these were created by Lily. She had a devious mind with the ability to back it up with strong magic and stronger beliefs, it's honestly a wonder that none of us were in Slytherin, James most of all.

Don't buy into the belief that all Slytherins are evil, that's like saying that all Blacks are evil, a general label that doesn't bring certain factors into account. I am the Lord of the Ancient and Noble house of Black. I am not evil. Andromeda was a black, she married a muggleborn and has a daughter that went into Hufflepuff, and is currently training to be an auror. You need to expand your circle of friends, a war is brewing, and Voldemort is going to be smarter this time. The next war will be a Shadow War, you'll need people who can help fight in the shadows, I can think of three in Slytherin who might help.

Daphne Greengrass is a pureblood that has been raised to see things in her own light. Her parents didn't indoctrinate her to believe that she was above others, but rather expect her to simply know it. Show her the folly of following Voldemort, show her your scar and explain that Voldemort wants to end the lines of the Potters, Perevells, the Bones, the Weasleys (even if they're not as powerful anymore) and the Longbottoms. She should understand that Voldemort only wants power for himself, she is a true Slytherin, too ambitious to fall at the hem of Voldemort's robes.

Tracey Davis was raised the same as Greengrass, but is kind of like how Ron is to you, if Greengrass follows you, so will Davis. These two witches will be invaluable to your cause if they join you.

Finally you could reach out to Blaise Zabini, his mother is widely believed to have killed her seven husbands, but considering I planned to ask her to marry me in Hogwarts, I knew her, and everything her family did. The Zabini family is very powerful in Italy, and has the criminal underworld wrapped around their fingers. Isabella Zabini was framed for at least six of her husband's deaths. I know this because the guards in Azkaban (the human ones) brought in a contract killer. They heard him muttering about one of his hits, the prisoner was hired to kill one of Isa's husbands. The guard knew about my relationship with Isa and moved the guy next to me so I could know for sure. If you could get Blaise on your side, he would be a powerful ally, and his family has extremely well protected houses on the continent, even better than the blood wards around your aunt's house.

Somehow Fudge got legislation passed that allowed for the Triwizard Tournament to come back to Hogwarts, normally I would be ecstatic that it's been revived, but if you look at your track record you may end up being forced to compete. Most of the spells from first to fifth year in this book are minor things like charms for hair loss, or other pranks, but once you get to the sixth and seventh years, James and I had taken Ancient Runes, and Arithmacy, allowing us to create our own spells. Some spells in here are more than just a little dark, and I would like for you not to attempt them in front of Dumbledore.

Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, just remember that you're only thirteen, turning fourteen, and should focus on your life a little. Some people may find it selfish but there is no point in living a life in this world if you don't enjoy it. Fight for your freedom, fight for your future, and never back down from a fight you can't lose.

Your Godfather, Sirius.

Harry's mind was reeling as he set down Sirius's letter, the man overturned nearly everything that he knew or thought about his parents. The thirteen year old boy sat on the corner of his tiny bed and reached for the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. Harry's fingers brushed over the faces of his mother, her laughing face full of joy, and her brilliant emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. His father's arm was around her, James' handsome face seemed to scream of untold mischief as his hand that wasn't on Lily's shoulder fingered the end of his wand. Sirius was in this shot, his head poking up behind James or Lily as he moved, his bright grey eyes shone with joy, and he looked at the photographer like a man in love. Harry realized that Isabella must have taken the picture, and the whole picture shook occasionally, she must have been laughing at the scene that Remus and Peter were making in the background. Remus was shirtless and flirting with a pretty blonde, as Peter was behind her making faces at Remus.

Harry was surprised by how well Remus and Peter were getting along, even though he knew he shouldn't be. Peter wasn't as fat as he was in the shrieking shack, there was no muscle on him but he didn't seem fat all, just short and squat. Remus on the other hand was very muscular, the scars adorning his arms stretched with each time he flexed, and the blonde girl would blush sometimes.

Harry cursed Pettigrew once again as he saw what the rat had ripped from the world, Remus had told him why he couldn't come see him at all the past few years. When Sirius went after Peter, and subsequently was thrown in Azkaban, Remus went into shock, as a pack creature he couldn't handle his pack being ripped apart like it was. For months Remus did nothing but work, sleep, and get drunk. The aftermath of Sirius' apparent betrayal had lasting, maybe permanent, effects on the werewolf's body and magic. When Remus realized that Harry would be starting Hogwarts he left his life of isolation and joined the world, he got a membership at a muggle gym, and started to beat his body back into shape. When Sirius broke free from Azkaban Remus began to have doubts about whether he actually killed Peter. It didn't add up to Remus that Sirius would kill Peter and a dozen muggles, but leave all the guards of Azkaban alive, the Marauders had created nearly a dozen spells that could be cast wandlessly to kill in seconds.

Harry was brought back to the present when he heard Vernon's car door slam, and the great oaf barged into Harry's room, barely fitting through the average sized door. Vernon's face was a marvelous shade of puce, his brow was dripping sweat, and his meaty hands were cluctching a letter sized piece of paper.

"BOY," He roared, "I NOT TOLERATE ANY OF YOUR FREAKISH FRIENDS SENDING ME MAIL AT WORK!" With that he threw the paper to Harry, balled up to about double the size of a regulation snitch. Harry read the short note on the paper and chuckled to himself.

"Uncle, this note is from my Godfather, all it is, is him asking you to be kind to me this summer. Notice the elegant script it's written in? Sirius was a member of the House of Lords, he even had land here in muggle England." Harry suddenly had a rather devious idea, "And, Uncle, I think you should notice it came to you at work, would I be correct in assuming it was delivered by a courier?" Vernon nodded his rapidly paling head. He realized what Harry was trying to say. "Obviously by your complexion, you realize that means that Sirius knows where you work, and he certainly knows where you live. This uncle Vernon, is simply a message." Harry smirked in spite of himself, suddenly remembering where the sorting hat wanted to put him to begin with.

Vernon's face now resembled that of Nearly Headless Nick's in pallor, as he tried and failed to find his voice, he looked at the Grimoire on Harry's desk, and the wand next to the boy's hand, before making a hasty retreat.

Harry quickly realized that the Grimoire would be a much better book to study, as the spells it contained would not be taught at Hogwarts, unlike the spells in his schoolbooks. Harry quickly found a spell to alert him if someone was standing outside his door, and one that allowed him to turn one side of his door transparent to see the person on the other side. James and Sirius discovered this particular combination from the door to Professor McGonagall's office. After spending an hour drawing on pieces of parchment, Harry was confident that he could replicate the runes to place on the corners of his door with a beam of magic shot from his wand. Another thing Harry realized was that the harder he tried to concentrate on learning acts of magic the more easily he became distracted by stray thoughts, sights, smells, or sounds. After about five hours of this Harry realized that his problem was not quite just in his head and was probably magical in nature, so he sat down and started to pen a letter to Sirius to ask him about it.


I've been trying to learn some of the spells in the book, but can't seem to concentrate. I don't really think it's just natural distractions, did you guys curse the book in any way? Maybe it has a minor effect on me.

Thanks for the book, and for the letter, it gave me a lot to think about.

Son of Prongs.

Harry spent several days reading about the Wards that Sirius detected on the property, and reinforcing the charms on his door. He also spent time looking at various means of travel, from the Apparation that isn't available until he was seventeen. There was also the Floo network, but that needed a fireplace that was connected, and the Dursley's was not. The last piece of transportation was the only one really covered in the grimoire, portkeys. A portkey was an item that 'pulled' a person to a point that the portkey was tethered to. A portkey could be made out of anything, from a shoe to a boulder, but were regulated by the ministry. Sirius's slanted, elegant script explained that the methods used to track portkeys was a farce, incapable of detecting the vast majority of the objects. Only if you used the 'Ministry Regulated' spell would you be detected as having cast it. The Grimoire detailed four separate methods of portkey creation, two spells, a runic circle; and lastly, a potion. One of the spells was very simple, a spoken 'Portus Oblius' would circumvent any tracking on the ministry's part. The drawback to that method is that portkeys created with that spell are simple to track, once you get to either the beginning or terminal points, making it a poor choice for a combat portkey. James discovered that the incantation Tacite Atque Celeriter Reverti would make a portkey able to take someone back to a safe location in the middle of a fight, and saw frequent use by wounded Death Eaters in the first war.

Harry also learned charms of concealment, in theory. The use of the disillusionment charm escaped him on the times he tried it, and the only footstep muffling spell he could perform without too much practice let off small amounts of light with each step. He read a lot of the spells, and was morbidly fascinated by the dark curses in the back of the book. As Harry read, he noticed the block on his learning skills more and more frequently. Thinking back, he realized that the book was not the culprit, he had these problems learning in Hogwarts as well. Harry jumped, having been startled by a tapping on his window. There was a large black raven standing on the sill, tapping its beak against the glass, with a letter attached to its leg.

Harry opened the window, allowing the bird to perch on Hedwig's stand, and took note of it's unusual features. Its talons seemed to be made of silver, and were razor sharp. The bird had an intelligence in its eyes that was unnerving, as if it was judging him. The feathers on its head were all black, save one. Directly between its eyes lay a silver feather, it reflected light as if it were real silver, but had the shape and look of a fully functional feather.

It stuck out its leg and cawed softly, indicating for Harry to take his letter.

Son of Prongs,

I'm sorry that I couldn't get back to you sooner, I've been getting settled in to my new location. But regarding the Grimoire, there shouldn't be any curses on the book bound to you. You're the son of two of the people to write in it, there's no way it would harm you. The way I see it is that you have two options. One is to learn Occulmency. That's the art of defending your mind from those who seek to enter it for their own purposes. It can be used as a great study tool, allowing you to place information in your mind in such ways for you to find it easily. I'm going to teach it to you at some point anyway. The second method, which I do recommend you pursue, is that you go to the goblins in Gringotts, and have them look at your scar. I didn't see it for very long, but with how it looked fresh it most likely has remnants of magic in it. The idea of having soul based magic in such proximity to your head seems very bad to me, so I'd get it checked out by an objective third party, besides; soul magic is not studied at all in the U.K. I don't think the healers of Saint Mungo's would be able to find it.

If the goblins do find something, I ask that you send me a letter first, explaining it. The little toad-dwarves like to think they're better than everyone else, but they could really do some serious damage to your mind if they don't fully understand what it is they're dealing with. Just tell them that you want to look to see if someone else has similar prices, if you manage to make everything about money they may just respect you. Never take a goblin's word at face value, the creatures are universally insane. Thousands of years ago some half-wit alchemist transmuted a dwarven embryo and a tadpole egg together to create the first goblin. It was the single most successful piece of life transmutation ever accomplished. But all life transmutation has a drawback in the creature, for the goblins it's insanity. I tell you this not to scare you but to warn you, do not trust a goblin unless you have no other choice.


P.S. This raven is Noctem, the messenger of Lord Black, expect a different bird every time I send you a letter. However if you think that someone is trying to trick you, just ask them to resend the letter, if it's me I'll send it back with Noctem.

P.P.S. Noctem is a Divine Raven, supposedly the messengers of the gods. If I'm not mistaken, he is one of the only ones left certainly the last domesticated one.

The day after receiving the letter Harry made a plan to get to Gringotts, he donned one of Dudley's spare caps, resized his clothes to fit him better, and changed his hair color to a dull brown. He quickly left the house, having completed many of that day's chores the day before, and hailed the Knight Bus.

As soon as Harry lifted his wand arm the ugly purple triple decker bus materialized with a bang and skid marks. Harry climbed on and gave a fake name to the old driver, he also noticed that it wasn't Stan Shunpike. After telling the driver he wanted to go to the leaky cauldron, the bus took off with another bang and more skid marks. Looking around, Harry noticed that there was no one else on the bus, confirming his suspicions that the bus was for mainly the old and destitute, those who couldn't apparate, floo or portkey. The trip to the Leaky Cauldron was fast, unnervingly so, and just as unpleasant as when Harry had done it the year before.

The wrinkled driver nearly physically kicked Harry out of the bus when they arrived at the small pub. Getting his bearings Harry looked around him at the muggles going about their daily lives, he grinned at the idea that no one knew him here, he was just another thirteen year old kid. His grin turned into a grimace as he realized that he wasn't able to hide his scar better than with a simple football cap, and it did not help much when he did not want to be recognized. Taking a deep breath Harry walked into the pub before him with determination.

The Leaky Cauldron hadn't changed much since the previous year, it still had warn wood on the floor, the chairs still looked beaten and abused, and Tom still made it seem like the homiest place in London. Harry took a seat in the corner, watching the people eat and drink, as he waited for someone to go out the back and tap the bricks. He didn't have to wait long as a tall witch came out of the floo and straight to the back of the pub. Wasting no time Harry walked behind her at a respectable distance, and when she tapped the bricks Harry memorized the pattern.

The sight of Diagon Alley was still mesmerizing even if he'd stayed here for weeks last year. The side of the street was lined with shops with all kinds of products, from the Magical Menagerie to the Quality Quiddich Supplies store, there was something for everyone. But today Harry was determined to get to the imposing building at the end of the long street, Gringott's bank. Setting a brisk pace Harry glanced around him hoping to see anyone who would know him before they saw him. A minute later Harry was standing on the front steps of the building without anyone having recognized him, although he did see some people he recognized.

The marble columns of Gringotts seemed more imposing now that Harry knew more about the beings that inhabited the halls and caverns. Witches and Wizards lined up in queues to make transactions with the short beings. Harry moved to one of the queues and took in the appearance of the short tellers, they didn't seem to have a healthy head of hair among them, and their skin seemed slightly translucent, which Harry wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking closely. The teller's hands had long fingers, each digit was nearly half as long as their forearm, with the webbing stretching much farther than it did on a Humans hand. The Wizard in front of Harry was shaking slightly as he moved to speak to the teller that just opened, Harry couldn't make out what he was saying but his tone was fearful. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately Harry was called to an available teller.

"Speak Human, I have not got all day." The goblin's voice was deep and gravelly, it seemed to rake on Harry's nerves.

"Sir, my Godfather said that I should get the Goblins to examine my scar thoroughly, he said he did not think it was safe to have soul-based magic possibly lingering on my forehead." Harry spoke loudly enough to be heard, but too quietly to be overheard.

The goblin peered down at Harry from his stand, and Harry lifted his hat, revealing his scar to the goblin. "My godfather wanted to get an unbiased third party's opinion. He doubted that the healers of my people would be unbiased, or even skilled enough to detect the magic of the scar."

The goblin snorted in derision, to what, Harry wasn't sure. "Very well, go sit in the waiting area, I will have a specialist brought up shortly." Considering the way the goblin grinned, Harry didn't think that the wait would be short at all.

Three hours, and one complete shift change, later a small human girl walked up to Harry and beckoned for him to come follow her. After confirmatory glance to the goblins on duty, Harry stood to follow the child. She walked at a very fast pace for her slight frame, her short hair waving slightly against the air. She seemed slightly malnourished, Harry could only tell from his own experience. The girl weaved through the corridors with practiced ease, stopping only to allow seemingly high-ranked goblins to pass, or in fear of the goblin warriors, carrying their swords and pikes. The warriors saw the girl and glared at her, as if her very existence was an insult to all of goblinkind. She simply hung her head. Harry began to wonder if the girl might be the specialist; it made sense that if Aunt Petunia hated Lily because of jealousy that maybe the girl was a human prodigy, hated by those with less skill.

Harry's thoughts were proven unfounded as the girl stopped in front of a door labeled 'Nullam nedum cubiculum'. The girl motioned for Harry to enter, and left without a word.

"Mr. Potter, I am Fanghorn, I hear you want your scar analyzed?" Harry squashed the urge to run as the goblin's voice grated on his ears. The goblin was average height, and wearing some sort of robe, it seemed like sackcloth or woven twine. Upon its head was a circlet of silver with some sort of dull blue stone set in it, and something like glasses lenses were attached to it, they were blue like sapphire, but instead of reflecting light and producing a luster the lenses were dull. The goblin's nose was very prominent, as long as his head was wide, with a large wart on its side.

"Yes, Mr. Fanghorn, my godfather wanted it checked out, he believes it to be soul magic, and is concerned."

"Ah, yes, how is Lord Black these days? Are the sunbeams and waves treating him well?" Harry was taken aback, how did the goblin know where Sirius was? The only reason Harry knew he was somewhere tropical was the brightly feathered bird that delivered the first letter. Harry figured the goblins probably knew the same way.

"I am unsure Mr. Fanghorn, we have not gotten to speak much. Unfortunately it was always a very serious conversation. All I know is that he is alive."

"Yes, it would be most unfortunate if he died, the things he will do to the ministry will most likely be very entertaining." Fanghorn gave a throaty chuckle and started to stare more intently at Harry. "Now Mr. Potter, if you would please remove all enchantments from your person this will be over faster and I can go home."

Harry began to change his hair color back, and remove the charms on his clothes that made them more presentable. Upon seeing the state of his wardrobe Fanghorn sneered mockingly.

"Now, boy, lay on the floor naked. I need to be able to examine all of you."

Harry was repulsed by the goblin, but had come too far to back out now. As he took his shirt off and revealed his scars Fanghorn's sneer diminished, if only slightly. Harry took off his trainers and pants, hesitating with his underwear before it also joined the clothing pile in the corner. The stone was cold on Harry's bare feet but under the watchful gaze of Fanghorn he lay on his back, spread eagle before the repulsive goblin.

Fanghorn began to speak in gobbledegook, the guttural sounds scraping against Harry's magic. It was oppressive and seemed to promise pain and suffering, slavery and condemnation. Harry's skin writhed, and his scar began to burn, the pain quickly spread from his scar down his back, to his feet, and up the front. The goblin's magic took shape, a green pillar of dust rose before Fanghorn, the minute particles attacked and destroyed Harry's glasses, bored into his eyes and burned with an unholy blaze inside his mind. The goblin continued to chant as the dust cloud encompassed all of Harry's prone form, raising him a meter in the air, and turning him around. Harry tried to claw at his eyes but his hands did not respond to his brain, he tried to scream but his throat made not a sound. Slowly, gradually, the dust settled, and the magical light of the room was extinguished. The only source of light was the blue lenses in front of Fanghorn's eyes. Harry tried to ask Fanghorn what the results were, but found himself slipping farther and farther into unconsciousness.

Harry awoke with a splitting headache, and his eyes themselves seemed to be alight. He tried to move his arm but found it restrained, along with the rest of his body.

"What happened?"

The deep guttural voice of a goblin responded him, "During your examination Chief Examiner Fanghorn found a piece of a soul that would be easily missed, over the last half hour we have extracted it, done battle with it, and killed it." The goblin walked into Harry's line of view, he was wearing a white robe that seemed to be the standard of both races for a healer. "You will be charged two hundred thousand galleons for the procedure and the lives that were lost fighting the wraith. Also, when the Examination Dust entered your eyes it unblocked large amounts of ocular magic that was wreaking havoc with your ability to see, the fee for this was deducted from your account and added to the two hundred thousand galleons. Your clothing is by the door, Salva will take you to the foyer." With that the goblin unlocked the restraints around Harry's body and left the room.

Harry wasted no time in getting dressed, making sure his wand was ok, and getting out of the bank. As it turned out, the little girl that Harry followed to Fanghorn's examination room was none other than Salva, and no matter how much he tried Harry couldn't get her to speak. Harry was deposited in front of the foyer by Salva who left quickly, Harry, having replaced the charms on his hair, left to rejoin the wizarding world of Diagon Alley.

The sun had set and the moon had risen high by the time that Harry stepped off the Knight Bus. As soon as Harry opened the door to his family's house he noticed that the telly was still on, and the clock read midnight. Harry quietly cast a silencing spell and made his way up the stairs, careful not to step on the creaky boards, but it was not meant to be. Harry had not even made it to the top landing when Dudley came around the corner and saw him halfway up the flight of stairs.

"DAD! MUM! HARRY'S HOME!" The pig yelled, his voice cracking as he saw the wand in Harry's hand and the blue glow around his feet. "HE IS USING MAGIC!"

'Great, thanks Dud, you're a big help hereā€¦'

Vernon bolted upright from his very large chair, bringing his incredible girth to bear on Harry. The low light from the streetlamps illuminating his crimson face, and his eyes were alight with fury. "WH-WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, BOY?!"

Harry had never seen his uncle so angry. Spittle went flying from the mammoth of a man's lips as he waved a pistol in the air. 'Where did he get a pistol?' Deciding that honesty was the best answer Harry took a deep breath and responded slowly, "I went to a healer to get my scar looked at, my Godfather thought it might be cursed."

Petunia's hand flew to her mouth as she remembered who gave Harry the scar. "It, you mean, it had his magic in it?"

Vernon's temper did not abate at the reference to Voldemort, as far as he was concerned Harry was completely in the wrong. "Boy, today you showed that you do not value this house, so I want you to take your things," Vernon pointed at the cupboard under the stairs. "And leave. Never return, this is no longer your home."

Harry was shocked to the core, and as he heard Vernon tell him never to return the teen felt the magic of the wards die, so too did Petunia.

"What was that? What did you do to our house?"

"Those were the wards," Harry was barely able to speak. "They died when Vernon said this wasn't my home. Those wards protected you as much as they did me, as long as you remain here Voldemort will target you. I recommend you flee the country, go to America, go to Australia, I don't care where but leave this house."

"But you'll tell them that you don't care, right? They'll leave us alone?" Dudley looked like he just saw Filch in his underpants.

"I would, if it would matter, or if they would ask. Dudley, you're dealing with terrorists, when they find out I didn't like it here, they'll kill you anyway. These people are not street thugs, they murder muggles for fun."

"Can't you get them to replace those wards? I don't want to move." Petunia was whimpering, she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"No, the wards are gone, Vernon saw to that." Vernon, for his part looked pleased that something magical was gone from his house. "There is no way to effectively ward a muggles' house, there needs to be some sort of magical trace for the wards to pick up on. At this house, that was me, and with the kinds of wards that were on the property, no more can be placed here for five years, at least. If you want to live, you'll have to do it without me. You will move in one direction, I'll move in another. Now, since Voldemort has not risen yet, I'm going to wait until tomorrow to leave. I'll be up and gone by eight, I recommend you leave as soon as possible."

Vernon seemed very happy, Dudley looked apprehensive, and Petunia looked determined. The horse-faced woman began barking orders to her family on how to pack and where to find boxes.

Harry walked to the bedroom he called his, took off the hat he was still wearing, removed the hair color changing charm, and began to place his few belongings in his chest. 'What do I do now? Everything is happening too fast for me to be able to send a letter to Sirius, where do I go?'