Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
A/N – This is the first fic I've written properly, so please be kind to me lol. I know the first chapter isn't very original, and very short, but it's kind of an introduction, so be patient. Please, please review!
Disclaimer – Unfortunately, all these characters belong to JK Rowling not me.
As the sun rose slowly over Privet Drive, Harry Potter stared, unseeingly out of the window of Number 4; his emerald eyes glazed over and a frown consuming his face. Blinking as the first rays outlined his pale features; he sighed and collapsed onto the bed next to him, burying his head in his hands. The clock next to the bed told him it was 6:30 in the morning, too early for the other inhabitants of the house to be awake but he, Harry, couldn't sleep. It had been this way for the past week and a half, ever since he had arrived home from school; he had been plagued by nightmares, nightmares that were too horrible for him to ignore.
You see, Harry Potter wasn't a normal boy, never had been and never will be. He was a wizard, a pupil at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, arguably the finest wizarding school in the world, with arguably the finest headmaster; Albus Dumbledore.
He had lived as normally as he could when tormented and neglected by the only family he had until the age of 11, when he had found out that he was a wizard, and everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. From then on his life began to spiral out of control; in some ways it changed for the better and others for the worse.
His aunt and uncle told everyone in the Muggle world that he attended St Brutus' school for Incurably Criminal Boys and they treated him as if he was a freak; and to them, he was. In their eyes, someone who could do something that they couldn't was abnormal, which was why Harry hated the school holidays. During term-time, he could escape from the hatred into a world of friendship; somewhere he was truly happy.
However, at the moment, Harry wasn't sure he could ever be happy again. Last year, he had witnessed the re-birth of a Dark Wizard that the whole wizarding world feared; the very wizard that killed his parents. Lord Voldemort. He had been tricked, captured and tortured; seen a fellow student die and been in such pain, he had wished death upon himself, and now, evil had risen again. It was only a matter of time before Lord Voldemort struck, and there was nothing he could do about it.
It was this that overwhelmed his dreams; the guilt, the helplessness and the fear. Coupled with the worry for his friends, and for the wizarding world, Harry was deeply unhappy.
Voices from the next room snapped him out of his daze. Forcing the dark memories to the back of his mind, he glanced once more out of the window. Somewhere out there was Lord Voldemort, waiting for the right moment to strike. This was war.