Harry was snoring loudly, his face pressed against the window, his room strewn with apple cores, owl feathers and spell books, all of which were obscured by the large bird cage containing Hedwig his owl. His trunk was open and unpacked on the floor. His gaze again turned to the note from Dumbledore that he would be calling on Privet Drive tomorrow: he knew it was useless to read the letter again and he knew it by heart. It seemed too good to be true, to be rescued from the Dursleys so early in the summer. He woke up with a start, saw the streetlight go out and then Dumbledore walking towards the house. He bounded down the stairs and saw his uncle's veins bulging, recognizing Dumbledore was someone he couldn't bully. Dumbledore's.....
