Love's Greatest Sacrifice

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they all come from the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling and I had nothing to do with it…unfortunately. I just write for your entertainment entirely.I appreciate your feedback and your reviews are what keep me going.

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Chapter 1: The Angel of my Dreams

Two months passed by. Two months he sat there staring out the open window of his bedroom looking out at the world that was oblivious to the dangers that were quite apparent in another place. Somewhere passed the rolling hills, where the green of the grass met the darkened sky and the sun disappeared behind it. There were troubles that couldn't be conceived by the unimaginative mind and he was prophesized to put a stop to it all.

For two months he had been forced into a life of isolation dwelling on the horrors that had befouled his mind, the mind of a teenager, the mind of a child. He was a child that had been forced into adulthood faster than his voice could crack, and now he was broken. Broken and left to pick up the pieces by himself.

He never waned to go back, he vowed to himself that he would never return to the place that had abandoned him…to the people that had left him alone, not knowing what kind of mental torture that he was putting on himself…oblivious to the pain that he had been caused.

And yet…here he was.

Harry Potter trudged through the crowded terminals of the King's Cross Station maneuvering the flatbed that carried his two trunks, other packaged items and his owl Hedwig who was sleeping quietly in her cage. He stared straight forward, not bothering to indulge himself in his surroundings. If one had known Harry before the past year they would have described him as a troubled boy who tried desperately to be happy and have a life of his own, just at first glance but now just by looking at the sixteen year old raven-haired, green-eyed boy bursting into tears and reeling into fetal position was highly likely.

His skin was a sickly pale color due to extreme lack of sun, and food. His hair was longer and mussed about his head covering his ears and cascading down his face halfway over his thick wire-rimmed glasses that had once again been patched in the middle with Scotch tape. The glasses shielded his emerald green eyes that held so much pain and anguish that they had begun to look cold, dull and unfeeling.

His faded jeans and six-size-too-big jumper hung off of him like an elephant skin, and under them was a torso that had been beaten black and blue from his own self-infliction.

The summer had done him horrible. Everyday he woke up in the same chair by the window and stared at the sky until the sun blinded him. He went to the bathroom, and then went back to his chair. On more than one occasion he began scratching at his skin nervously, not feeling the pain he caused himself…it was nothing compared to what he had been through. The Dursley's fed him scraps from their table, three or four times a day, but he hardly ever ate. Eating was for the people who deserved it…and in his mind he did not.

Harry didn't receive any letters from his friends, or from anybody else. The only connection he had to the Wizarding World he had was through the Daily Prophet and he would rather line of Hedwig's cage with that rubbish then read it, so that's what he do. Then he would sit some more and think…and think…and think until the sun went down and his eyes willed him to sleep. No one could tell what he was thinking about, the Dursley's certainly didn't care and for some reason, Hedwig seemed to just ignore Harry by pretending to sleep. Maybe she sensed a sudden change in him. But what did they know? They all lived sheltered lives, and they knew nothing of the battles raging in his head.

Harry had become so angry, he blamed himself for what happened to his Godfather at the Department of Mysteries. He blamed himself for the injuries, and possible deaths of his friends…he blamed himself for everything. All the things he couldn't control and for all the things he could. Horrible nightmares plagued his mind once sleep overtook him. Nightmares of Sirius falling through the veil, his friends dropping at his feet one by one, lots of blood, slow and painful deaths and those sinister red eyes showing themselves right before the morning came, leaving him to cradle his head in his arms because of the searing in his scar. The voices in his head were just the topping on the cake.

They did nothing but agree with the horrible things he said about himself, which only caused him to hurt himself more, not intentionally of course, but how was he to know? He hadn't been paying attention much to anything over the summer. He hated it, he hated everything…but then, what was hate anymore? He didn't know. How could anyone see where the lines of hate stopped and love began?

For Harry it was all the same…

He found, that when he snapped out his reverie that he was coming up to the support beam standing tall directly in the middle of Stations Nine and Ten. He didn't look around to check and see if anyone was watching him, he just slipped through, immediately greeted with the intimidating sight of the great Scarlet train.

Ever since first year Harry had always had a sense of calmness wash over him whenever he approached the train, he had always been happy to see it for it meant that there was someplace safe that he could go to…a safe haven he had nowhere else.

But that haven was gone and that sense of calmness was replaced wit a sense of impending doom!

Harry shook his head and grabbed his things off of the flatbed, continuing on towards the train. He was very aware that people were staring at him as they were saying goodbye to their parents and parents saying goodbye to their children. He knew they all thought he was insane…insane or troubled. Either word would go well to describe the Great Harry Potter, their Savior from the damned.

'Some Savior I am. I can barely keep myself alive.' He thought to himself as he made his way to the very back of the train where he was sure no one would be. Harry settled in, putting his belongings in the overhead rack where things like that were stored and he nestled back into the comfy overstuffed seat. It was more comfortable than he had been for those whole two months away for summer. Soon he found himself drifting off into a horror filled sleep.

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Harry Potter awoke to the sounds of his own startled screams and somebody gently shaking him awake. "Harry…Harry wake up." It was a soft voice, the voice of an angel he was sure wanted to take him away from all of this.

'Yes, wake up Harry, wake up and face your destiny. Wake up Harry, wake up and feel.' The voice changed to the sinister slither that was always in his head, and he screamed louder, clutching around in the darkness for the owner the voice belonged to.

"Harry!" the voice was more forceful this time, but still gentle. Harry reached out with his arms and tugged, sure that he had caught the angel, sure that he was leaving everything behind…

When he felt a sharp pain in his head.

His eyes flew open, clouded by tears and he looked into the familiar worried face of none other than his best friend Hermione Granger.

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A:N/ I know, I know, Harry's a little bit overly-emotional in this chapter, but it gets better. No worries. As I said before reviews with positive and negative feedback are important to writing.