It was a very scared Harry Potter who awoke in his bed at Number 4 Private Drive in the smallest bedroom at one in the morning. Sweat dripped down his forehead and little droplets of the stuff were making salty trails down his entire boy as he frantically grabbed his glasses and shoved them onto his nose, breathing hard and desperately searching around his room for some sign that the nightmare that had just woken from wasn't real. No such signs were forthcoming. There were Daily Prophets scattered around the room bearing the face of Snape, Malfoy, and Dumbledore, not together of course, but those three pictures told the same story as the incessant nightmare that he was drug through every night. There was no escape from the nightmare when he woke up though. Even the nightmares that Voldemort had always loved to send him would have been preferable to this, at least with those he was able to wake up and escape to reality. "This is so fucking ridiculous," he muttered to himself as his search failed to provide the reassurance he desired, just as it had failed him every night since he had come back to the Dursleys. Every night the same thing, the same nightmare, the very nightmare which was his life. Dumbledore staring wide-eyed as Snape shot a beam of green light at him, Dumbledore going limp and flipping backwards off the tower, Dumbledore's broken body lying at the foot of the tower, Fawkes singing his grief over the castle and the grounds, a lament that shook him too the core with its terrible beauty and haunting sadness, even a phoenix's tears could not write this wrong. Nothing could. Dumbledore was dead, and with him died a part of Harry too, the part of him that saw the challenge and knew what had to be done in order to achieve the desirable end to the war. With Dumbledore, in Harry's mind, died the leader of all things good. Knowledge had died that night, and Harry felt nothing but numb, and now, he didn't even feel numb. There had been shock, and denial, then bitter acceptance, then nothing. It wasn't a feeling really, more the lack of any feeling. He wasn't sad or angry; he didn't feel anything. When Cedric had died he had grieved more than this, and Dumbledore had meant so much more. When Sirius died, he had been distraught, but Dumbledore had been so much more than even his godfather. Dumbledore had been the man he could go to for answers, though he sometimes had hated the man for the tricks he played, he had been his mentor. Dumbledore had been Harry's key to get through the door to the past, and the key to a future in which he would defeat Voldemort. But now that was gone and there was no hope for that future. What was the point in feeling anything when he would be dying soon anyways?
Harry rolled over and planted his feet firmly back on solid ground, planting himself firmly back in reality. "What a way to start the day…again." He knew from past experience that there was no point in going back to bed and trying to fall back asleep, he had tried that once before and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and trying to fight the feeling that he was wasting time trying to sleep when he ought to be trying to find a way to survive and to save his friends. And, while he could validate his lack of concern for himself, his friends were always his top priority. It wasn't their fault that a dark wizard was after their friend and they didn't need to be caught and killed just for their choice of friends. Protecting them would always be his main concern. That and killing the maniac that had the nerve to call himself the dark lord when he as nothing more than a perverse, hypocritical creep to afraid of the unknown to die when it was his turn to do so. With a sigh, Harry gathered his books and parchment as well as a quill and ink from under the loose floorboard. Just a few more days he thought just a few more days and I am out of here for good. I don't know where I will go, but at least it won't be here. I could go to the Weasley's, but that would just put them in more danger. I could start looking for those damnable horcruxes, but do I really want to get into that mess yet? What else is there I guess, but I have to wait until after Fleur and Bill's wedding. I owe them that much. Actually, I owe them way more than that, but that is all I can really do at this point. Maybe when I get rid of Voldemort…if I can get rid of him…I will be able to pay them back properly. But until then… Harry put his mind to accomplishing the task at hand, his homework. It wasn't really that he had become the studying type, to Hermione's dismay that would probably never happen. However, having little else to do in the wee hours of the morning, it was looking as though he would be having a lot of time to study. It is really too bad I won't be going back to Hogwarts; I would actually have had time and energy to finish my homework this summer. Of course, if I was going back to Hogwarts Dumbledore would still be alive and I wouldn't be having these nightmares, so maybe I wouldn't be getting it done. Oh well. Studying seemed to be the only thing Harry could do in these early hours that took away the void he felt within himself. It distracted him from what was happening and why he was awake. And when he thought about what the book was saying and when he took the time to write down the things that might prove useful, he could almost swear it was possible to replace feeling with thinking and he almost felt whole again. Almost. Eventually, after three hours of studying, there was a screech at the window. It was loud enough to make Harry jump and frantically hide his books for fear that his relatives would have heard it too, before he went to the window and opened it for the snowy owl outside to come in and deliver the letter she carried. "Hedwig, you need to stop scaring me like that," he told her as he stroked her softly feathered head with a grimace on his face. "Of course, it's not really your fault that the people I like with are unbelievably thick. Honestly, do they think you are going to carry a bomb in and blow up the house? Hell, the only people who would be sending things to me with you don't even know what a bomb is. Well, Hermione might, but I can't see her trying to blow this place apart just for me. Maybe if there were house elves involved, but I really can't see the Dursleys having one of those either." Harry sighed and looked at the letter he was holding. He didn't immediately recognize the writing, though he knew it looked familiar. When he opened it, he knew exactly why he should have recognized it. Looking at the signature at the end, Harry knew that he was going to have to work up a lot more courage than he was currently feeling to read that letter. Maybe I'll go for a run, then come back and brave it. Yeah, that sounds a right sight better than reading it now. He let the letter fall to the ground behind him as he fed Hedwig a handful of owl treats and retreated silently out the door and through the silent house to the door and out into the dark and silent street as he took of down the street, his quick breaths the only sound in the street. Maybe, just maybe, I can outrun my problems. It is a sort of freedom I guess, not quite like flying, but it is the closest thing I have for now. His trainers pounded the pavement in a steady rhythm down the concrete sidewalk, away from the faint smell of flowers that wafted through his room, and towards a completely unexpected challenge that lay directly ahead.
Small talk from the author:
Yes I know, it is a terrible thing to leave off at the end of a chapter like that. But I figured, what the heck, this is my first fan fic that I will ever have posted, so I might as well start off the way I plan to continue. I don't plan to be nice to my poor characters, what is the fun in that? And all of you who read this story will hopefully be able to handle cliffhanger endings, I know that deep down, if you are anything like me, you actually love them, even though they drive you nuts until the next part is up! Hahaha, I am merciless though! But I am letting you off easy this time; the next chapter is already posted! Well, I figured I shouldn't start off TOO mean! Happy reading and please review. If you want to bash my story, please do so productively. If you flat out make fun of it and are by no means being helpful, then I will make sure to ridicule you in the next chapter that I post! I really can be a mean person sometimes! Anyways, please, please, pretty please review! It will 100 make my day! And if any real British people read this, please leave a comment telling me where I screwed up a word or phrase or whatever. I want to be true to the Britishness of the actual Harry Potter, even though I am an American. Thank you ever so much. Hugs and Kisses
P.S. I was wondering, exactly how major of a swear word bloody is. That is perplexing! Haha, I am a little bit of a ditz really. Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers!