Disclaimer:

I do not own any of the characters from the original Harry Potter books/movies created by J. . However, there will be a few characters of my own imagination in this fanfiction. Enjoy!

Authors Note (A/N)

This is my first fanfiction ever and english isn't even my second language so please have a little mercy and patience. Reviews and critique will help me immensely while writing this.

I'm still in school and I have a life so I will post chapters at my own pace depending on how I see fit.

Also, this might be a very long fiction, perhaps divided into more than one part. I don't know when I'm going to stop writing this or how this story will end but if it goes well enough, this will go as far as DH and possibly beyond.

Lastly, I will touch on facts and events from the movies as well as the books so don't be surprised to see a little bit of both.

Please enjoy!

So without further ado...

Chapter 1: A Night's Storm

Even though it was early July, in the middle of summer, there was a storm all over the area of and around Little Whinging.

It was pouring big, heavy drops of rain out of the dark clouds that were hanging in sky with a green, unnatural light shining through them, and every once in a while the growling of thunder could be heard. The wind was howling as it swept through the unpopulated streets of the town. It seemed only logical that no one would be out under these harsh conditions when you could just wait out the end of the storm inside one of the many white houses of the suburb.

However, one teenage boy defied that assumption by sitting out on the lawn of one of these houses, letting his hair and clothes get soaking wet.

He seemed entirely oblivious his rather unpleasant surroundings and appeared to be lost in thoughts judging by the empty look in his green eyes.

Even though the rain was crashing down on the now cold stone for hours, the boy didn't even move. It was like he was frozen there. After the last sunlight had vanished and dusk had passed into the night, the boy finally stood up, turned around and opened the door he was sitting in front of.

As Harry Potter walked into the Dursleys home, he knew that he walked out of one storm into another one. Almost momentarily after stepping into the house, his Uncle Vernon confronted him before he could walk up to his room.

"How dare you come back in this state, dropping water all over the floor we so kindly let you walk on?", he shouted.

Harry, knowing that arguing would only make it worse, replied very monotone.

"I'm sorry. Won't happen again"

After giving him one last glare, Vernon let him pass and walk up the stairs, surprising his nephew who had expected a longer tirade. Considering that it was already late and Harry had missed out on dinner, he barely had the power to climb up the staircase. Not that he would have eaten anyway, but he still needed the energy. As he reached the top, he tripped and heard a mocking laugh from Dudley who was standing downstairs, watching as Harry struggled.

Ignoring his cousin, Harry opened up his room and dropped on his bed and almost immediately fell asleep. However, the peaceful rest he so desperately needed did not last long.

So after the storm that was raging outside and inside his house, now another one would be happening inside his head.

Harry had his usual nightmare about the battle at the Department of Mysteries. He dreamt about the strange rooms that his friends and him saw while they were looking for that damned prophecy. He dreamt about how Ron got attacked by the brain he saw in that tank. He dreamt about how they were cornered by Death Eaters and Malfoy taunted him. He dreamt about how the members of the Order of The Phoenix arrived and how he felt hope again, just to have it extinguished a few moments later by Bellatrix Lestrange who hit his godfather, the only kind of true family he may have ever had, making him fall into that strange veil.

Then, Harry suddenly awoke, panting from the intensity of his dreams and the continuous moving he did while sleeping. At least he hadn't screamed as much as usual, avoiding an argument with his Uncle who always complained that Harry made too much noise and stopped him from sleeping. So it wasn't just that he was having terrible nightmares, but he also got punished for it. Every time he thought about that, a bitter chuckle escaped his mouth. At least he had gotten used to this feeling of empti- and loneliness he got when he woke up from those dreams by. He may have gotten Voldemort out of his head back at the Department of Mysteries, but the influence of the Dark Lord on his mind could not be denied.

After shortly considering going back to sleep but then deciding against it, Harry stood up from his bed, took a half-working flashlight and made his way over to his trunk. Unfortunately, even now after the Ministry of Magic backed off a bit, he couldn't risk casting a simple "Lumos". It may just give Minister Fudge the excuse he needed to harass him again, and he definitely didn't want that to happen.

Without really knowing why, Harry picked up the picture of the original Order of The Phoenix. He passed over the few people on the right he didn't know and the his eyes rested a bit longer on the Longbottoms.

Harry was reminded of the story Neville told him last year about his parents. He could relate so much more to the deep agony and hatred inside his friend towards Bellatrix Lestrange after she had killed serious.

Of course he already knew what it felt like to lose something, to lose someone. But he had always directed those feelings towards Voldemort. Obviously a lot of people had suffered under the Dark Lord, but Harrys case was a special one.

Not only because he had been marked or because of what the prophecy said, but because he had suffered so much more under Voldemort than others. It was not only the physical pain, Harry knew others had felt that as well, whether it was the cruciatus curse or some other method of inflicting pain. It wasn't the death of his family either. He hadn't been the only one to lose his relatives.

No, it was much more the mental pain he had cause him over the years. Starting with the events around the Philosophers Stone and what Quirrel did to him and his friends, then the Chamber Of Secrets, the Diary and the Basilisk to which he nearly lost Hermione, Ginny and many more. After saving Sirius and creating the DA he felt some kind of belonging again, just to have that taken away again not even two years later. And of course there was still the huge pain he felt every time he thought of what happened to Cedric.

The worst part, and also the most unique one, was the connection he had with Voldemort. Having it cause his godfather's death didn't really help either. The nearly constant fear to not be able to retreat away from all around him, not even into his own mind, really messed with Harry. Also, his scar was continuously hurting and he could tell when Voldemort felt pleasure, which could only mean he had killed someone or some other bad thing. Nobody else has that, and nobody could feel how he felt about Voldemort.

But now he could relate to someone on a more personal level, since he felt similarly as his roomate from Hogwarts about Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry didn't know if Neville would ever really want to talk about his parents, especially now after he had been confronted by the Death Eater. But he knew that if his friend needed someone who could understand him, he would be there. It was the least he could do after leading him to the Ministry to fight with him and getting him hurt.

Even though it wasn't really Harry's thing to talk about his emotions, but he knew that someone understanding could be useful. The real reason he didn't talk about his feelings is because there was no one who could really relate to the pain inside him. Therefore, everyone trying to talk to him about just seemed ignorant to him.

Harry knew that his friends and members of the Order cared for him and asked how he felt because they genuinely wanted to know if and how they could aid him, but he couldn't help but feel at least a tiny bit annoyed at them for constantly trying to have him open up. Couldn't they understand that they couldn't connect to him on that level?

These thoughts had been reoccurring over the summer, just like the nightmares. And he wanted to get rid of both of them.

Knowing that his sadness and anxiety would only grow larger if he continued to look at the picture, he decided to put it away.

Then, Harry just sat there. He didn't know what to do. Being at the Dursleys house did not only make him feel bad because of the way they treated him but also because of the incredible amount of boredom he had. There was nothing to do. He couldn't play quidditch or just go flying, he didn't have his friends there to hang out with him. He'd even rather go to a class of History of Magic than to be here all day.

It occurred to him that a bit of time had passed so he decided to go back to sleep. Even though, Harry knew that he would have nightmares again, he also realized that he'd have similar images in his mind if he was awake, so why not at least try to sleep a bit? Judging by the large black rings under his eyes, he could really need it.

So, once again, Harry Potter lied down in his bed at 4 Privet Drive, hoping to get some sleep before waking up to the rather hurtful reality that was his life and wishing that it would not haunt him in his sleep.

A/N:

This is it. First chapter done. Please R/R.

Don't worry, this story will not be consistently depressing. Obviously Harry is not very happy at the moment but there will also be positive aspects later in the story.

Since it's been some time that both the books and the movies have been out and there's a ton of fan fictions out there it's likely that you have seen some of the elements in this story before. However, I try to not steal from stories, but obviously there's some good ideas that I let myself get inspired from.