Author's Note

This is my first work of fan fiction, though not my first written work. I do hope that you enjoy it, as my desire is to entertain readers just as much as it is to get this story out of my head.

I despise typos, continuity errors, and formatting mistakes. Do not hesitate to point them out so I may set them on fire, though I would prefer you DM me so my shame does not live eternal in the reviews.

Please. Review. I cannot stress this enough. Your feedback, both positive and negative, motivates me and helps me to become a better write.

Do. Not. Post. Spoilers. In. Your. Review.

Disclaimer: I am not the immensely talented and inspiring woman known as J. K. Rowling, and therefore hold no claim to the fantastical world she allows our imaginations to frolic in.

I have written a longer summary so people can understand the type of story they are getting into, as I expect it to become quite long. It is only a vague summary, but read at your own risk of being spoiled.

However, here are some things everyone should know: No Horcruxes, No Hallows, No Prophecy.

I am trying to write as original a story I can, while still sticking close enough to canon that it isn't a complete AU. Harry won't have a phoenix animagus form, be the descendant of a dragon, or be able to walk through walls. He will be powerful, but it will be due to hard work and study using abilities that seem to already exist in the Harry Potter world. Harry will still end up in some of the same situations we expect to see him in, but only when it makes sense, and the outcome should always be surprising. Though as we move through the story the familiar scenes should become less and less.

Extended Summary

Book 1
Harry Potter's name comes out of the Goblet of Fire and he feels like his life is over. But maybe it's only just started? When Harry has the support of his friends and school, there's really no end to what he can do. Watch as Harry takes the tournament more seriously, and works hard to overcome it. And once he feels his fame is earned, not given, how confident will he become?

Book 2
When the Dark Lord rises again to begin a new war, how will Harry react when he is stuck at school? It's not a suggestion from his friends this time, Harry Potter's starting a club so you can learn to defend yourself! But how does the new defense teacher feel about that? The only question is, when the adults fail to protect the students who is left to take charge?

Book 3
Harry's group is an inspiration, but they are still just students. Can Harry afford to let them stay that way? It's time to grow up and fight. But to fight a war you need an army. Luckily for Harry he's already started one. If only Hermione didn't make him wear the hat . . .

Book 4
Britain is in peril, but their greatest hero steps forward to protect it. Harry Potter comes into his own as a political power and starts to make changes. The problem is, can anyone afford to argue with him? With the threat of the Dark Lord and his followers it doesn't seem likely.

Book 5
War . . . War never changes.

Chapter 1: Quiet Reflection and Misdirection

Harry Potter looked up in confusion as his life suddenly seemed to hit a brick wall. Literally. He rubbed the tip of his nose and muttered a curse that Hermione would have scolded him for, while shooting a glare at the wall in front of him. Half of him wanted to give it a swift kick, but he doubted his foot would fare any better than his nose. As he looked around and tried to get his bearings, he realized that he wasn't quite sure which part of the castle he was actually in. The walls and floor were all made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, and he couldn't see any portraits or classrooms that looked familiar. Sighing, he placed his hands into his pockets and began walking back down the hall he had apparently come from, hoping that he would eventually find a familiar corridor. As he walked his thoughts returned to what he was beginning to consider as the worst night of his life. As he moved through the halls he could not help but compare all of the terrible events of his life with this latest one.

Naturally Harry's first thoughts were of when he had only been one year old, and his parents were murdered before his eyes, a story that was world famous before he even knew how to walk. However, until his first encounter with a dementor the previous year he had had almost no memory of how it had happened. In fact, he had spent most of his life believing that both of his parents had died in a car crash and had had no reason to doubt that until his eleventh birthday. And while Harry would be willing to give anything to have his parents back, he had too many terrifying moments burned into his memory that he would consider far worse.

At age six Harry had first been told by his aunt to help her with breakfast, and was placed on a stepping stool at the stove in order to make pancakes. While the first several had burned, he had actually been rather proud of himself when he had managed a decent stack and started to take them to the table. Unfortunately, Harry was never allowed to be happy for long while at Number Four. His cousin, Dudley, had had a rare moment where bullying Harry was more important to him than eating. He had stuck out his leg just as Harry was about to reach the table, leading to a shattered plate and a number of still steaming pancakes on the floor.

That was the first time Uncle Vernon broke his arm.

But, Harry thought, as he looked for a familiar portrait or window to regain his bearings, he hardly had any happy memories for the time he had spent at his relative's home. At this point in his life, he had come to accept it. And if anything, things had gotten better after he had finally been told he was a wizard. He had an actual bedroom, and his uncle knew that he could not get away with hurting Harry now that he had people that actually paid attention to him. So while he hated Privet Drive more than anywhere else he had ever been, it was hard to pick out a single moment there as his worst.

He sighed as he finally recognized one of the doors in front of him. A door on the third floor corridor that lead to a small room with a trap door. This was definitely not the way back to Gryffindor Tower, but at least he knew where he was now. He looked around the dusty hallway and tried to figure out how he had gotten so lost. Honestly, he could have made it there ten minutes ago if his mind was not still reeling from the earlier events of the evening. But just seeing the door made him remember another terrible night of his life. The night he killed a man.

Funny, he thought, that no one ever seemed to put it that way. His best friends, Ron and Hermione, had been too relieved to see him alive and well to ask many questions about Quirrell. Moreover, Professor Dumbledore had done nothing but praise Harry for his bravery and lament the fact that his friend Nicholas would be moving on. Now that he was a few years older he realized Dumbledore may have downplayed Quirrell's death to protect Harry from dwelling on it. But that didn't change the truth of the matter, because Harry knew that he had killed a man that night.

However, the fact was that Harry had gone after the stone fully expecting something terrible to happen. He had assumed it was Snape that was after the stone, and that all he would be able to do was stall the man until Dumbledore arrived. Harry had been full of adrenaline and too sure that he was right to stop himself to think of the actual consequences of placing himself in danger. When it was all over his group of friends found it easy to feel happy and proud of themselves after the fact, when the danger had passed. He really couldn't compare that night to this one.

Harry stopped and looked down as light splashing sounds echoed along the hallway. His trainers had been walking in almost a quarter of an inch of water for the last several seconds now. He looked around and held back a groan. He had been sure that he had taken that last staircase up from the third floor. Looking down the hall towards the nearest window, he could see the flicker of starlight against the black emptiness of the sky. He could not have been wandering the halls so late that it was past midnight, could he? But he sighed knowing it must be the case. The staircase on the third floor had a habit of taking you the opposite direction on Tuesday's. The Halloween feast, and the following event, completely allowed Harry to forget that it had been Monday before now.

He stopped a moment to lean his back against the cold wall of the corridor, his eyes taking a moment to focus on the wall opposite. It was two years ago to the day that he had been in this hallway following a strange voice that nobody could hear. Two years to the day that he had found a cryptic message painted on that wall in blood. He thought he could see the faint traces of the words still lingering on the ancient stone, but as a torch flickered they seemed to disappear. Just a memory.

As he pushed off the wall to continue his epic journey to locate his own common room, he stopped yet again at the bathroom door. After the night he had it would almost be worth visiting Myrtle and commiserating about how dreadful existence can be. He actually took a step towards it before realizing that it was far too late and that he was already lucky to not have been found wandering the halls. After the night he had had the last thing he really needed was to lose points and give people a reason to hate him even more. He did resolve, however, to come back and make an effort with the wailing ghost. Maybe because he was being reminded how it felt to hate an inescapable situation.

Or maybe because by tomorrow she would be the only one left who would talk to him.

He began to walk back the way he came, making sure to head down the stairs on the third floor so he would end up on the fourth. However, his thoughts were now mostly on the chamber. Another terrible night. Another adventure he dived into headfirst. Another surge of adrenaline helping to push through it. As idiotic as it sounded to himself he could not help thinking he would rather face another basilisk than go through what he did tonight. At least that was a problem he knew how to deal with; stab it with a sword, and convince a phoenix to heal his wounds. Relatively simple compared to what he knew was waiting for him back in the common room.

Did he know though? If it were already past midnight they wouldn't still be up. In fact, it would probably be easiest at this point to just catch a nap by the fireplace than go up to the dorm and risk waking anyone.

Risk talking to anyone.

Harry's steps increased slightly as the idea began to form in his head. Maybe, if it was only a nap, he could get up early and head down to breakfast before anyone got there. He could be out of the great hall before half the houses were even awake, and then go to the library to work on his history of magic essay. He wouldn't have to see anyone until his first class! And he could probably avoid talking during class if he sat close to the professor, meaning that . .

These pleasant thoughts came to a screeching halt when he saw the portrait at the end of the hall depicting a large woman in a pink frilly dress, snoring quietly against her picture frame. The Fat Lady was the entrance to Gryffindor tower, the house of the brave. Harry knew that if he went through with avoiding everyone then he would just be running away. Not a very brave thing to do. Moreover, how long would he have to keep up with it? He wouldn't be able to avoid his entire school for the full term.

His footsteps stalled once again as he inched down the hallway, his eyes darting along the walls subconsciously seeking a different way his feet could carry him. But Harry Potter knew that his long night of wandering was over. It was a very short hallway that led to the common room. He couldn't escape it any longer. As he continued to search for a distraction he focused on the only thing left to look at, the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was not very young, but he would not call her old either. He did not know enough about magical portraits to know if she had to have been a real person, or if some artist had just decided to paint a large woman that day. Her eyes were closed as she continued to snore, her head resting on a gold curtain in her painting.

This actually did stop his movement for a few moments. He remembered his first time seeing her on his very first evening at Hogwarts. He was amazed that the portraits could move, talk, and act as if they were real people. But he remembered vividly the Fat Lady, with her light pink dress, complimented by the deep red curtains that surrounded her. Harry felt briefly confused, as he could not understand how or why a person would go through the trouble of changing the curtains inside of a portrait. However, his confusion only lasted for a moment before he recalled the events of the previous Halloween. He had been shocked to enter the hallway and find it packed with people standing in front of a shredded painting. They must have had to repaint the entire background before moving her back into it. He reached out and lightly ran his finger down the curtain, where he knew it had once been cut, amazed that for all its grand appearance it still felt like normal canvas.

"Sirius." He whispered softly to himself.

"Uuurrh noh admittensh" the Fat Lady mumbled in her sleep.

Harry startled slightly and stepped back, worried that he had woken her. He remembered that the Fat Lady and her friend Violet sometimes drank heavily during feasts, and he was not looking forward to being the one to wake her. However, after a few moments of brief silence her soft snoring was once again filling the corridor. Harry sighed and relaxed his body, walking up to the portrait again, his eyes lingering on the area he had been touching.

In all honesty, he hadn't had much time think about Sirius since the end of last year. He wanted to know his godfather more, having only really had one brief conversation with the man. But it was too dangerous to contact him, and Harry wasn't even completely sure that Hedwig would manage to find him. Brilliant as she was, the man was in hiding and he doubted just sending him a letter would work. Harry recalled the all too brief time where he thought he might finally get away from the Dursley's and live with someone that would actually care about him. But even if he couldn't live with the man, the fact that he had helped Sirius get away with his soul intact lifted Harry's mood slightly.

That woke Harry up slightly. If he was thinking fondly of his time near dementors then he really was having a terrible night. He moved up to the portrait as quietly as he could and stood on the ends of his toes carefully. Fred and George had told him about this trick over the summer but it was his first time trying it for himself. As long as the Fat Lady heard the password, and wasn't awake to protest, the door would open. At least no one would be around to watch if he failed, or worse, think he was trying to kiss a portrait. Craning his neck, he whispered softly towards the ear of the Fat Lady.

"Balderdash."

"Thash wah I shed." Mumbled the woman as the portrait swept inward.

Harry gave a relieved sigh that, at the very least, he would not be getting the normal verbal abuse that comes with coming in after curfew. But now was the moment he had been dreading the entire night, and the reason he had not returned to the tower. Knowing his friends and his house he had a very good idea what would be waiting for him inside, even this late. There would be remnants of a party, that he knew. The house of the lion would take any chance they could get to throw one, and as far as most of them were concerned this would be something to celebrate. Despite the time, at least one of his friends would be waiting for him, though he hoped there would be two. Hermione would be reading a book at this point and twisting the ends of her hair into knots. Ron, if Ron was even there and still willing to talk to him, would be asleep on the sofa nearest the fire. But Harry felt he wouldn't care if he was awake or not, if Ron was there after waiting hours then it would mean they were still friends.

Normally Harry would never even have to wonder if he and Ron Weasley were still friends, they had been best mates since their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, and Ron had stood by him through every one on of his adventures. But a few hours ago, at the Halloween feast, the Goblet of Fire had decided to spit out Harry Potter's name and enter him into the Triwizard Tournament. Harry couldn't believe that something was happening to him again. He had been excited for the tournament as something that he could enjoy with his friends together for once, and not exist in a perpetual state of life or death for most of the school year. Instead, he watched his best mate's face turn to one of anger and betrayal as Harry was forced to go to the other champions. Ron had always had a small jealous streak of Harry's fame and fortune, and Harry was fairly sure this was the last straw for him.

Harry gathered up his Gryffindor courage as he squared his shoulders and walked forward. Even if they were angry, even if they hated him, even if they hexed or cursed him, Harry hadn't done anything wrong. In time . . . eventually, he hoped he would manage to convince them of that. As he moved through the passageway the warmth of the fireplace and familiar smells reminded him that, more than any place in the world, this was his home and where he belonged. Nothing, not this tournament, his classmates, not even his friends would change that. Harry Potter was ready for anything.

He entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. As the Fat Lady swung back into place behind him, Harry Potter only had time for one thought.

"Well . . . I wasn't ready for this."

Author's Thoughts

I'm going to be writing out my thoughts at the end of each chapter, sort of like director's commentary. They will be spoiler free, but feel free to skip them. They are mostly my own musings and I think the only ones interested will be other fanfic authors. I also might answer reader questions that I don't feel need to be in the author's notes.

This chapter wasn't actually the first thing I wrote when I decided to do this story. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do such a big project, and it had been years since I had written with any regularity. But there was a chapter in my head that just would never leave me, and I decided to sit down and write it for my own benefit. When I was done and reread it I found out that I actually thought it was pretty good. Good enough that I didn't want to keep it to myself. That chapter will be chapter three, and I sure hope you like it the way I did.

A lot of stories skip an introduction chapter that goes over Harry's previous adventures. I understand that, obviously if you have resorted to fanfiction you probably know his story backwards and forwards by now. But I already knew I wanted Harry to feel lost in this first part, and it just seemed like a natural fit for him to think back about his earlier years.

Also the brick wall line makes me giggle.