Harry was having the best summer of his life. He had received a few letters from his godfather that, although they never mentioned a location, gave Harry the impression that Sirius was somewhere tropical while finally recovering from his stay in Azkaban. Well, as far as one could recover from such a horrid place. His friends had written too and there was even talk of visiting the quidditch world cup near the end of summer. But probably best of all was that life in number 4 Privet drive didn't suck for once. He still remembered how utterly mad Vernon had been when he had come home in the middle of the night last week. The man had turned all sorts of colours and had nearly tried to throw him in the cupboard. Something he hadn't tried in years now. Perhaps it was a tad sadistic, but Harry had truly enjoyed watching all the colour drain from his uncle's face as he calmly drew his wand, explained that he was now legally allowed to use magic outside of school, and then used a knockback jinx on Vernon in order to prove it.

He'd all but ordered his family into the living room and told everyone there were going to be some changes in the house. Harry would stay out of the Dursleys way, if they stayed out of his. He'd keep to himself and stick to his room when he wasn't out, except for using the bathroom or preparing his own food. He would not be doing any chores and the Dursleys had better not even try to touch his stuff. For good measure he added that he'd bewitched his things anyway. He hadn't of course, but Harry felt the Dursleys didn't need to know that.

He'd also let Hedwig free and if he found out they'd bothered her, Harry would be having words with them. Harry smiled as he remembered his relatives' ashen faces as he'd pulled a serious face and waved his wand threateningly in their general direction. He'd thought it would probably look more silly than scary, but it had worked. The Dursleys hadn't said a word to him since, except for Petunia sometimes timidly asking what time he'd be using the kitchen.

Harry had spent the past week replacing his wardrobe, it seemed he'd hit a growth spurt recently. Even his eyes had improved a little, requiring him to get new spectacles. He hadn't bought anything too fancy, but at least he'd gotten rid of all of Dudley's old castoffs. Most of his time had been spent studying the grimoire, he had spent his days either in his room or in the local park reading up on his family's history and had nearly gotten through most of it. Well the summarised version at least. His family apparently predated the concept of England as a sovereign kingdom, so it was a lot of history to get through if not summarised.

To prevent himself from going stir crazy from all the studying he'd started running and working out. He also bought himself a fancy laptop. Not because he really needed one, it wouldn't even work at Hogwarts after all, but he figured he could learn how to play a game or two over the summer, just to relax. Harry honestly thought seeing his cousins jealous looks when he'd brought the thing home had been worth it. He hadn't expected how much he'd actually like the thing though. Truly, unsupervised use of the internet had been an eye opener. He'd been looking up everything from advances in muggle technology he'd missed over the last few years, to looking up things that advanced his knowledge of biology.

He had heard some talk about sex of course. It was nearly impossible to avoid all mention of it in a castle filled with teens. Especially when one slept in the boys' dormitory. To have all sorts of 'websites' on the subject open to him now though, showed him that he wasn't any better than his classmates on the subject. There was simply something about sex. As Harry had been discovering, there was a good chance he was even worse than his classmates. Not that he'd suddenly turned into some sex-obsessed deviant, but he did find out that he had certain... preferences, or kinks as the internet called it, that he had never heard any of his fellow students talking about. He'd gotten on a website dedicated to something called bdsm and its various subcategories by mistake and for some inexplicable reason he'd been hooked immediately.

His days were spent reading his family history and following a rudimentary workout schedule, and now his evenings were spent looking up bdsm and what it all entailed. At first, Harry had been feeling at odds with himself. Denying he was aroused by what he'd seen on those sites was simply not going to work. His dreams were enough proof of that as Harry had found out to his embarrassment. Yet at the same time he had the odd feeling that being turned on by such things was wrong. What kind of person would be into such a thing? Who would get off on tying other people up, or by treating them in some degrading matter or on anything related to bdsm really.

Eventually though, he'd found several online forums and message boards explaining various common questions and found out there where tons of people that had wondered the same thing. It wasn't some evil thing. According to several members of said forums, it wasn't even all that rare. People rarely came out for it in the open, but apparently there were entire underground scenes in every major city for people that enjoyed bdsm in its various forms. He'd been quite relieved after that if still unsure about the morality. He'd briefly wondered if it had something to do with Voldemort's soul piece getting sucked out of him. Even now it still niggled at his mind.

He was starting to suspect it had changed him in some ways at least. It hadn't been obvious even to himself at first, but over the few weeks since the event he'd been feeling different. He was sure he was still himself, but his mind somehow felt clearer. As if his mind had existed in a slight fog all his life and it had now been dissipating. He wasn't suddenly a genius, or smarter at all really, but he certainly concentrated on things more easily. This had a subtle but beneficial effect on his magic, as Harry had found during some practice sessions. His magic wasn't any stronger, but with an increase in his focus came better results in his spellcasting. Harry had wondered, and worried, if it had also affected his personality in some ways.

The whole thing with the bdsm was one thing, he had no idea if that was a change or something he'd always had but didn't know about. But looking back he wasn't sure he would have enjoyed the whole debacle with the Dursleys normally. He'd still have done it of course. But if he would have enjoyed it? For the hundredth time since his return to the Dursleys, he shook himself out of that particular train of thought. Vernon had threatened him, and he'd simply used the means available to defend himself, without any bloodshed to boot. Of course he enjoyed that the man had no power over him anymore.

He'd tackle any remaining issues from the event if and when they'd pop up. So far there hadn't been any negative effects he could really pinpoint, and Dumbledore had guaranteed he was free of Voldemort's influence anyway. Studiously ignoring that Dumbledore asked to be informed of any change Harry thought might result from the dementor exposure, he turned his attention back to his laptop, Harry decided he'd enjoy one of his new favourite pastimes a bit before calling it a night. When Harry finally turned out the light an hour or so later, he slept like a baby. Happily dreaming away about a mixture of his female fellow students and a variety of fantasy women in various compromising situations, any and all qualms about his kinks forgotten.

Harry sat at his desk, reading Dumbledore's reply that he would personally come to examine Harry the day after the quidditch world cup with a sense of both relief and dread. He'd decided to stop kidding himself and write Dumbledore about all the changes he'd started to notice over the past few weeks. They'd all started of as very small. But eventually they'd kept growing, accelerating, and Harry could ignore it no longer.

Yes, he'd hit a growth spurt. It made sense that he outgrew his clothing, he was going through puberty after all and he'd been working out. But going from a scrawny kid that looked about two years younger than he actually was to being average height and fairly athletic for a fourteen year old in the span of three weeks? Nobody grew that fast, and no workout in the world should yield those results in less than a month. Since coming to Private drive he'd replaced his entire wardrobe twice. He'd ended up going to Diagon Alley and having his clothes spelled to grow in size with him just yesterday, simply to stop the hassle.

His eyes were another matter. They were getting better, which could happen during puberty, but again, not to the degree that they were. They still sucked, but they had been improving steadily and at the rate it was going, he probably wouldn't need spectacles anymore by the time Christmas came around. Like his wardrobe, they'd already been replaced twice within three weeks until he'd finally found an optometrist in Diagon alley that allowed for a self updating prescription on his glasses. It had been expensive and had limits, but it beat having to replace them every few weeks.

His mind was another matter. He still hadn't become more intelligent and his level of focus seemed to have stabilised. What bothered Harry was different. His memory seemed to be improving. He recalled old information with renewed ease, down to details he hadn't even known he remembered. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was fairly confident he hadn't forgotten a single moment since he woke up in the hospital wing at the end of the previous school year.

The most worrying thing though, was that he seemed to do certain things as if he had years of experience in them, even though he couldn't remember doing anything similar before. Nothing sinister that made him think it was Voldemort's influence seeping through. More like everyday things. It's not that he already knew how to do them, but once he started on it he did them with a sense of ease and confidence that he usually only gained from hours of practice. Aside from that he found himself with a few strange mannerisms. Now that he thought about it, what self respecting thirteen year old started threats with "I would have words with you."?

His magic, though the most subtle change, was perhaps the one that scared him the most. At first, his control had actually improved. Increased focus would do that. Now though, his magic was seemingly gaining in power, and Harry found it more difficult to control. The magic itself came more easily and more powerful than before, but restraining it enough to do what he wanted it too was becoming more difficult. As a first year, he'd had to learn how to make a feather float. It had been a struggle to even get the thing to move. Now, he was learning to stop it from launching itself at the ceiling at the barest whisper of a spell. It was like having lightning coursing through him and trying to only let out the few sparks he needed to not overload the spell.

Harry shook his head and tore himself away from the letter. Nothing he could do about it until Dumbledore came to see him. It was time for his morning run anyway. Maybe he'd see that cute girl again? He'd seen her on his morning runs a few times now, although they hadn't spoken. Who knows, maybe this time he'd actually pluck up the courage to introduce himself? Grinning at his own silliness, he grabbed his sneakers and prepared to go out.