AN: Hi everybody! This story will eventually turn into a Marauder's Tale flashback type thing. With angst. I love angst! Be nice: review!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, etc. etc…

"BOY!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Get down here and help your aunt fix dinner!"

Uncle Vernon had refused to so much as utter Harry's name since he had been threatened on the train platform by quite a few members of the Order of the Phoenix. Perhaps he thought if he screamed Harry's name too loudly Mad Eye would swoop down on him and turn him into a small, furry animal.

"Don't make me repeat myself!" Harry sighed and grudgingly got up off of his thin, creaky mattress. Life at Privet Drive hadn't improved much, except for the fact that Dudley was spending most of the summer at an away wrestling summer camp. It seemed that no matter what he threatened the Dursleys with—animal appendages, escaped convicts, or a train platform full of weirdoes—they still managed to make Harry miserable. His only consolation was that Uncle Vernon had stopped objecting to him watching the news. He wouldn't say that they watched it together, considering that Uncle Vernon had abandoned watching the news entirely and simply glared furiously at Harry while Harry attempted to ignore him and watch the TV.

"I'm coming!" Harry hollered down the stairs. He glanced hopefully out the window. The Order had promised to fetch him as soon as possible, but July was inching along with no sign of anyone coming to rescue him. His birthday was six days away. He had hoped that he would be back with his friends in Grimmauld place before then, but it seemed unlikely. Grimmuald place. Sirius. Harry felt a now familiar pang of emptiness. Pushing thoughts of his godfather out of his mind, he slowly walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

Harry glanced at the Quiddith themed calendar on his wall--two more days until he was 16. The Chaser from the Chudley Cannons, pleased to be receiving any attention at all, waved furiously and began tossing the Quaffle up in the air. He then turned his gaze to the clock on his beside table, noting that there was still five hours until the nightly news. Harry had reverted to his favorite summer activity, staring at the ceiling, when suddenly the phone rang.

"Hello?" he heard Uncle Vernon grumble from downstairs. There was a long pause. "BOY!" Harry hurtled out of his bed and stood at the top of the stairs. Uncle Vernon was gripping the telephone so hard his entire hand was white. This phenomenon contrasted sharply with his face, which was quickly changing from red to purple. He seemed to be struggling fiercely to maintain his civility. "It's--for---you---," he managed to choke out. He extended a white, violently convulsing hand towards Harry. Harry bounded down the stairs and eagerly snatched up the phone.

"Hello?" Harry said.

"Harry!" cried a cheerful voice on the other end. It was Hermoine.

"Hello, Hermoine," Harry grinned.

"How are you, Harry?" she inquired in her usual breathless tone. "Lupin owled me and told me to call you on the Muggle phone and tell you that a few members of the Order are coming to pick you up at three o'clock."

"Brilliant," said Harry happily.

"Now you won't have to spend your birthday in that awful place for the 15th year in a row."

"And I'm terrible grateful for that. How's your summer been?"

"Alright...I told my parents we ought to stay close to Dumbledore, what with everything going on..." Hermoine trailed off. Harry noticed that Aunt Petunia had wandered into the living room and was accompanying her husband in glaring at Harry with a mixture of outrage and wariness.

"Hermoine, I should probably go now. I'll see you at Griummald Place." His throat constricted oddly as he mentioned the address.

"Harry..." said Hermoine softly, obviously picking up on the pause in conversation.

"Later," he said quickly, cutting her off. He hung up the phone and turned towards his Aunt and Uncle.

"My...friends are picking me up at three," he explained quietly.

"Right," said Uncle Vernon. He grabbed Petunia's arm and moved jerkily towards the door. "We're going into town for lunch. AND YOU'D BETTER BE GONE WHEN WE GET BACK!" he screamed, slamming the door.

Smiling widely, Harry raced up the stairs to pack his trunk.

Two hours later, Harry was sitting on his trunk, idly tossing his wand in the air. His stomach lept when he heard a chorus of loud cracks! in the living room below him. He ran down the stairs and faced the crowd of people in the Dursley's living room. He was surprised to find it was a much smaller crowd than last time. Glancing around he suddenly became aware of the reason for the diminished size of the group. Standing between Lupin and Mad Eye was none other than Dumbledore himself.

"Hello," said Harry. He received a chorus a greetings from the assembly in front of him. "Hello, Professor," Harry added, turning to Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled at the look of mild surprise on Harry's face.

"I thought it might be better if I actually spoke to you at some point this summer," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Harry grinned sheepishly.

"So...how are we getting to headquarters?' Harry inquired politely.

"Portkey," said Moody in his usual gruff tone.

"Really? The Ministry let you set up a portkey? Why?"

"Well they don't know, do they?" Tonks snickered.

"The Ministry has given Dumbledore quite a few...liberties... since Fudge stepped down." Explained Lupin. He absently brushed a string off of his fraying robes.

"Tonks and Kingsley will get your trunk and meet us a headquarters," said Dumbledore, handing Harry a small silver box. Harry picked carefully removed the box from Dumbledore's grasp.

"Right. See you all so—" Harry was cut short as the Portkey jerked him forward and Number Four Privet Drive dissolved into a tunnel of whirling color.