Chapter One
The Beginning
A/N: This story used to be in MNFF. For various reasons I stopped writing it. I feel really guilty reading all those emails my readers sent me, so now I'm bringing in out again. If you used read it in MNFF, please leave a word, so that I know I'm actually redeeming myself in your eyes. I made some corrections, starting in Chapter Two.
Oh, and I know that you know that I know that I don't own Harry Potter. I'm saying this only once, because I don't see the point of repeating it. No one's stupid enough to claim Harry Potter theirs.
The faint blue candle flames shivered; they made the endless stone tiles look like dusty glass, they hung dim shadows in the distances of thecorridors and floors.
Silence crawled along the long halls, chasing a noise. Harry's shoes clacked and scuffed on the stone tiles, drawing echoes from the walls and doorways. Silence pursued him like death, sliding past the flickering candles, gliding along the empty corridors. Endless darkness stretched out before him, peered at him and swallowed him.
He ran on.
It was getting distinctly colder. The chill made his teeth clatter, made his eyes water. The chill seemed to suck out every bit of warmth from his veins. He was not cold outside. He was frozen inside.
Then abruptly, he stopped.
He faced the same black door, gazing at it, almost feared what he would find on the other side. Darkness swirled around him… silence pressed him… Harry held out a trembling hand, and suddenly the door swung open…
Sirius's body curved in a graceful arc, his face was marked with a look of mingled fear and surprise. He sank through the ragged veil hanging from the arch, his mouth forming a silent O...
The dream changed.
"Kill me now, Dumbledore…" "If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…"The callous red eyes transformed to lifeless, sunken black ones; the deathly pale face became even paler…
"Why did you kill me harry?" Sirius whispered. "Why did you kill me?"
"Why…"
"Sirius!"Harry lay flat on his back, panting heavily as though he had been running. He had awoken from yet again the same dream that haunted him ever since he returned to Private Drive. His hand instinctively reached up to touch the old scar on his forehead, tracing the lightening shape with a trembling finger. The scar felt normal, cool and rugged as always, he hasn't even experienced a slight prickle during the past 4 weeks.
He sat up, a hand, still trembling, reached out in the darkness for his glasses on the bedside table. He put on his glasses and the blur before his eyes disappeared. The bedroom was impossibly pitch-black, impossible to make out any shape. He sat quietly on the bed, waiting for his eyes to adapt to the dark. The lamp was broken since the end of last summer, and evidently uncle Vernon didn't have the decency to fix it for him.
But Harry preferred the dark. Naked light was exposing, and he couldn't stand it. Bright light made him remember, when all he wanted to do is to forget the events of the past 2 months.
He ran his fingers through his hair. His hair seemed to have a will of its own. For the past 5 years it absolutely refused to grow, but now it had reached shoulder length, yet as messy as usual. He scrambled out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. After soaking his face with water, he peered into the mirror. A skinny boy stared back, eyes swollen and bloodshot under his untidy, wet hair. The face has changed a lot since last year. A screen of tiny hair clung to his chin, as if he hasn't washed his face for a week. The face, while more angular, was pale and devoid of emotions. His usually bright green eyes looked dull, even lifeless, as if now a layer of ice blocked his emotions, shielding him from the rest of the world. The dream tonight, however, shattered his protections completely, and all the pain and guilt was poured back into him.
"…Don't you think you've got a bit of a – a – saving-people-thing?" Hermione's voice rang.
"He has a great weakness for heroics…" Lucius Malfoy's voice echoed in his head.
The dull green eyes suddenly burned with fiery fire.
The five of us could have died because I decided to play hero. Tonks lived in St.Mungo's for two weeks because I decided to play hero. Sirius died because I decided to play hero. Sirius died…
All my fault…
The sink began to tremble in silent fury.
All my fault…Suddenly, as soon as it came, the anger vanished. The hatred in the air changed to sadness. Harry sighed and turned.
Sirius's death was the beginning of a new stage of life for him. No matter what Dumbledore said, he can never let go of the guilt. He didn't want to brood, but thinking of the life he could have had, he couldn't help it.
The Dursleys peered fearfully from their room. All three of them let out an inward sigh when the red aura from the bathroom subsided. Then, unexpectedly, they heard a muffled sob.
It was hot.
But it wasn't kind that reminds you of Mediterranean beaches and icy drinks with blood red cherries floating in them, or hot girls wearing bikinis wondering around among the sunbathers. It was nothing close to that.
The heat, like a huge damp slimy dirty stinking piece of rag, shrouded Little Whinging and stated there for weeks. A drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive, which now felt like a giant greasy oven. Lawns that were usually emerald green now lay wilted, yellowed in decay. It was an unusually hot summer, hot enough even to drive away the usually penny-pinching inhabitants of Privet Drive to pack away and spend their summer elsewhere. It was even more unusual that the only family left was that of Harry Potter, the bloody-boy-who-lived.
Sunday morning, the only place that showed some signs of life was number four. And these signs were subdued. Vernon Dursley, Harry's uncle, grunted.
"Where is that boy?"
"I don't know," said Aunt Petunia, who winced at the mention Harry. "Not in the house, hopefully."
Uncle Vernon stretched what passed for a neck out of the living room window and peered down into the flowerbed below.
"Nope, not here either." Said Uncle Vernon, evidently relieved as he focused his attention back to the morning news.
Harry, at this particular moment, was sitting in the park near Magnolia Road, wearing his invisibility cloak. He watched absently as a girl walked past, her light skirt fluttering to the rhythm of her stride showing bits of tanned skin inches above her knee. She was sweating a lot, Harry noted with interest, and she didn't seem to be wearing anything underneath that tight top.
The Dursleys had for most of the time refused to acknowledge his existence. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't force him to do anything or shout at him – in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Dudley wouldn't stay in the same room, while all three Dursleys avoided looking at him. This suited Harry fine, although (he would never admit) he did feel sorry for them – it was their house after all.
He stayed away from the house for as often as he can. When he was in the house he kept to his room, spent time staring out of the windows when he is not daydreaming about a normal life. Even his owl Hedwig seemed to be aware of his sullen mood.
Magnolia Park soon became his favorite spot. It was quiet and often empty, and as usual, he was sitting in a solitary bench watching a stationary swing.
"That's where the dementors attacked Dudley and I," Harry thought randomly as his gaze shifted to Magnolia road.
"And that's where I first saw Sirius in his dog form…" His throat suddenly felt tight, his eyes stung.
"Don't think about Sirius!" He ordered himself. "Think of something else, your friends… Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny…"
"Friends?" A voice inside his head interrupted. "Friends you almost killed for playing the hero?"
"Cut it!" Harry thought furiously as guilt swelled in his heart once more. True, the guilt of causing Sirius's death could never disappear. But he wasn't going to succumb to his own guilt, at least not with the burden of the prophecy on his shoulders.
Sighing inwardly, he glanced at his watch: it read 11:00 AM. The Dursleys should be up by now.
Eager for some breakfast, Harry stood up and left.
When Harry returned to his bedroom, to his surprise, he found two owls waiting for him.
Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with an almost pitying expression. The other was a beautiful brown owl and as soon as Harry entered the room, he dropped a letter on his head and soared out, hooting pompously much to Hedwig's distaste. Frowning, Harry bent down and picked it up. As soon as he pulled out the envelope, his heart began pounding some where in his throat.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I have just received your OWL result. I am sure you are very eager to know how well you have performed. As your Head of House I shall retain the official transcripts in your file until September.
Charms: Theory – O; Practical – O
Transfiguration: Theory – E; Practical O
Potions: Theory – O; Practical – O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Theory – O; Practical – O
Herbology: Theory – E; Practical: E
Care of Magical Creatures: - Theory – O; Practical – O
Devination: Theory – D; Practical – P
Astronomy: Theory – A; Practical – P
History of Margic: Theory (only) – U (Ungraded)
The pass grade of OWL is A, you have achieved 7 OWLS.
Note that O has not been awarded to anyone in more than 50 years. The last person to receive it was Tom Riddle.
Mr. Potter, I am pleased with your results. I have always believed in your talents, now you have the grades too. With your exceptional achievement in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you're one step closer to becoming an Auror.
Congratulations.
Sincerely, Professor McGonagall"Seven OWLs!" Harry exclaimed. "I got seven! Sirius would have been proud…"
Harry's mood sobered again. He collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling gloomily. It was then he felt something pressing his back - another letter.
Scanning it, he saw that it was a note from Remus.
Harry,
We haven't heard from you for three days, how are you? Are the Dursleys treating you all right? Ron and Hermione arrived yesterday at you-know-where and they've been dying to know how you are. Evidently Dumbledore told them not to send you letters, he thought that you might need some time alone. Ron and Hermione got their OWL results. Ron wouldn't show me his, while Hermione got 15. 15 OWLS! How did you do?
Got to go now, duty calls.
Write back soon or we will send someone along.
Remus
PS. HARRY THIS TIME PLEASE WRITE MORE THAN TWO WORDS!
Harry smiled faintly – trust Hermione to get less then 15 OWLs. He hadn't been very communicative lately. His last 10 letters consisted of only two words: I'm fine. Somehow he doesn't know what to say to his friends anymore, partly because of guilt, and partly because of the prophecy.
Knowing the prophecy hasn't helped much, but at least it gave him a sense of purpose. Now he understood why Dumbledore tried to protect him as if he was the last hope of mankind. He didn't want to become an I'm-here-to-save-the-world figure, he doesn't want the responsibility, most important of all, he didn't want to be a murderer. But he has no choice. He didn't want to let down those who died for him – mum, dad, Sirius.
"And then there is Dumbledore," Harry thought darkly. "I always saw him as a grandfather I never had. I trusted him with my life even. But what was I to him? A talisman against Voldemort? When I've served my use, then what? It's been five years now. First year, I almost killed myself trying to save the Philosopher's stone; second year I got bitten by a basilisk; third year I was nearly kissed by a dementor; forth year I went through the maze to watch Cedric die. And then, just over two month ago… "
He let out a cry of anguish and desperation.
"I'm too tired. Why does it have to be me? I only want to be Harry, not some bloody Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived. I only want to taste normal life for once. Why does it have to be me?"
"Because it's your destiny…" a small voice muttered in his head.
"THAT DESTINY CAN GO TO HELL." Harry screamed to himself.
"Hmm," the voice in his head muttered. "In that case, pack your invisibility and go. Leave the wizarding world. Let Voldemort do what he wants. Why should we care?"
At this point, he jerked up and kicked open his trunk. He rummaged its contents and pulled out a silver cloak. But holding the silk-like material in his hand, harry strangely calmed down. As bitterly angry as he was, Harry knew he couldn't just leave all his friends behind, leave his life behind. He picked up a battered photo-album.
"Mum, dad, why didn't he just kill me? Why didn't he kill us as a family?" He was crying freely now. "Mum… it's so hard… I'm so tired. I can't go on like this anymore. Mum, can you help me?"
Lily Potter just smiled and waved at him in her photo.
Suddenly, Harry's face closed up. He looked longingly at his mother's photo and closed the album in a deep sigh. Picking up a quill, he wrote "I'm Fine, congratulate Hermione for me, got 7 OWLs " on a piece of parchment. Tying the note onto Hedwig's leg silently, Harry turned and stared into the darkening sky.
Not feeling hungry, Harry went out for another walk in the park after sunset. His aunt and uncle merely grunted and said " we'll leave some food in the fridge", then turned their attention to their dinner.
Harry sighed again. Without the Order's warning, he would never have gotten this kind of freedom by himself.
He vaulted over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass. The park was as empty as daytime. He sunk into his usual bench, hugged his knees to his chest and stared moodily at the ground. All the fury and desperation has left him, leaving only emptiness behind. He let his memories wander, searching for happy thoughts. There weren't many… knowing his magical identity for the first time, flying for the first time, winning the house cup, winning the Quidditch cup, defeating the Hungarian Horntail, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, dueling club… only so few, but enough to make a smile appeared on his lips. May be it wasn't so bad to be Harry Potter after all.
The voice in his head snickered again. "I told you!" it gloated. Harry shook his head in alarm. This had been happening too much lately. He had talked to himself before, but never talked back. It wasn't normal; in fact, he almost thought he was going crazy. Nonetheless, the voice was comforting. It was the only thing that understood his feelings at the moment, and only so was his solitude more bearab… His musings was cut of.
Some thing had moved.
Before Harry could react, a slender figure stepped out from the shadows to face him.
"Harry Potter…"