"Yeah - its the Black ancestral home, Sirius left it to me when he died. This summer, I’ll be attacked by dementors and then taken there for the last two weeks of the holidays, so I can grab it then," Harry’s voice trailed off, as something occurred to him for the first time. His mouth went dry. He felt sick and, suddenly, he truly felt like a child again, small and subject to the will of others. He was only slightly surprised that he’d forgotten - he’d spent so many years trying to block his summer holidays from his memory it only made sense he supposed, "Uh... uhm," he’d completely lost his train of thought.