A Time And Place To Grow

Chapter 1: Floo me Away

Harry threw himself back on his bed, smiling with the bed gave a satisfying creak. He could not be ignored forever. He had been here four days now, a total of 96 hours, and they refused to notice him. Well, except when they were shouting orders at him.

He had barely entered the house and set his trunk down when Uncle Vernon told him to put his stuff away and quickly so he could help clean up dinner (that Harry had not eaten).

The next morning Aunt Petunia had woken him up at the crack of dawn to get busy on the garden. June was unseasonably cold, and Harry's hands had felt numb trying to the weed the garden that had been neglected for months. After that, there was breakfast to fix, and then the dusting and washing of windows. The house had to be repainted in the next two days, and Harry had hurried around the house with a ladder, carefully not to get paint on the woodwork or the windows while Aunt Petunia had walked by every so often and criticized.

And today he had started the painting inside. After supper, which they allowed him to eat a bowl of soup, a slice of bread, and half a cup of tea, Aunt Petunia had looked towards the wooden floor in the hall and mentioned something about waxing. Harry had excused himself, saying he was going to bed. His arms ached, and his throat felt a little sore from staying out in the cold too long without a jumper this morning.

But now at barely eight o'clock at night, he was trapped in his bedroom with nothing to do but stare out the window and watch the sunset across the wide sky. He was bored, and angry and hurt about Sirius, and he hated the idea of being trapped here for two months with nothing to distract him but chores and the occasional owl with a letter.

He reached for his school book - the past year's charms textbook with the cover singed for the many times Neville had blown up a particular object the class was supposed to be charming. Though professor Flitwick was a good professor, Harry could not help feeling that Charms was one of the lesser subjects taught at Hogwarts. It had its usefulness to be sure, but levitating objects and casting first year spells seemed weak compared to the edgier subjects like Defense against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. Those classes had some bite to them; they made him sit up and pay attention because knowledge of their skills could be the very thing that saved his life. He could just imagine meeting Voldemort armed with some dingy charms - watch it, you dark scum lord, see if you like lifting off the ground!

And then there was always potions - Harry looked away from his potion's book with an uneasy feeling. How was he ever going to become an Auror with grades he had received? Nothing less than an O to enter the Auror training, and Snape had given him an E. An E! An A or even a T would have made Harry feel better. One more way that Snape used his power to torture his least favorite student. But an E suggested that Harry was not motivated enough; if he had applied himself a bit more, he might have received the coveted O.

Harry shrugged off his remorse. It was over and done with. If he could not become an Auror, at least he would never have Snape as a teacher again. There was something to say for never having to see the man except at meals and the odd run-in after curfew.

He opened the right pocket of his dress robes. Something he had stolen from Hogwarts when no one else was looking: a small bag full of Floo power. Not much, probably only enough to get him somewhere and back. But he would take his chances. The Dursleys' fireplace was boarded up, but it was still connected to the Floo Network. Two years ago, the Weasleys had tried to come through and fetch him. Harry grinned as he remembered Mr. Weasley shouting at his children to 'go back, go back!', before they all got crammed in the fireplace.

 Then Harry's smile disappeared as he remembered that summer. The Quidditch World cup, all excited and ready for adventure. Then the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Then Cedric