A.N. I absolutely hated what this story was like before, and the only reason I'm re-writing it is because it gathered a lot of fans, and I don't want to disappoint them. I hope you enjoy the modifications and don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine. No copyright infringement intended. (Applies to all future chapters.)

It was a beautiful day on Privet Drive. The sun was shining on the perfectly manicured lawns of the houses, the children could be heard ravishing their summer holidays, and the adults could be found admiring their perfect lives in Little Whining. But inside the house of Number Four, in the smallest bedroom, there could be found a young man of 15, with unmanageable raven hair, emerald green eyes, and a thunderbolt shaped scar on his forehead. He was barricaded in his room, (of his own volition, for once), only to emerge when he was ordered to do a chore or to attend meals. It was mid-afternoon, and the Dursleys were at the local pool to "cool off from the heat" as Aunt Petunia stated, though that was not the real reason for their absence. They were desperate to escape the darkness that haunted their house since the return of that boy from Hogwarts. It was a darkness fuelled by magic, a magic created by sorrow and anger. Darkness with such power that it cast shadows on anything that surrounded Harry.

Harry was staring out his window, trying to see through the glare of the mocking rays of sunlight. He couldn't help reliving the night Sirius was murdered by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, one of Voldemort's most loyal and sadistic Death Eaters. The guilt was clawing at his insides, wishing with all his heart that he could somehow go back in time and tell himself to ignore his hallucinations. He closed his eyes in fury as he thought of the friends he so foolishly brought into danger and certain death. Ron. Hermione. Neville. Luna. Ginny.

The only thing that kept Harry from going insane with grief was his determination to fulfill the damned prophecy place on his shoulders since before he was born. Harry lifted himself from his windowsill in a movement so swift and yet so tense Hedwig fluttered her wings in slight distress. His destiny was to be a murder, or to be murdered. Harry swallowed hard, feeling as if his mouth was made of sand. His nightmares made the grief and despair harder to forget and he always woke up, screaming for his parents and for Sirius, to Dudley's great amusement.

Harry was startled out of his dark musings with the arrival of the Dursleys, the loud slam of the door against its hinges a dead give away. Before he could take two steps towards his door, his Uncle's booming voice reverberated through the house.

"BOY" he yelled, and, Harry noted with slight satisfaction, with a quivering tone in his voice that couldn't be camouflaged, no matter how high his pitch went. "GET DOWN HERE!"

What now? Harry thought bitterly, as he descended the stairs to see his uncle.

"Yes?" Harry asked, annoyed. Before answering him, Vernon backed away, trying to escape his strange aura.

"These are your chores I expect you to be done with by the time you leave to go join your freak friends." The last two words he practically spat out.

"Yes sir" Harry answered sarcastically, yet dejectedly. He glanced at his aunt and cousin, and was extremely surprised to see Dudley and Petunia's looks of loathing and fear, reserved for him, replaced by something else. Something he couldn't quite decipher. He shook his head a little and looked at his aunt again, only to see their usual expressions of disgust on their sneers. He turned and went up to his room, thinking that maybe his hallucinations weren't limited to Voldemort. With a bitter laugh, he glanced down at his list of chores, noticing most of them were made to keep him out of the house as much as possible. As he was reading the first chore, weed and plant the garden, Dudley came up behind Harry startling him. He turned out and whipped out his wand, which was pointed directly between Dudley's eyes, an inch from contact. Harry shook his head in frustration, hating the paranoia that followed him around like a shadow. He lowered his wand and mumbled an apology, and he looked at Harry in impatient expectation. Dudley's smirk was in place and he was about to tell him something when he saw Harry's eyes. He shrieked and cowered in fear. Harry looked at him as if he were mad and asked:

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Yo-your eyes" Dudley's stuttered answer was. "The-They flashed blood red"

Harry stared at him, narrowing his eyes. He knew very well that his eyes had taken to turning red. He was washing his face in the bathroom and as he glanced up and noticed that his eyes had turned an intimidating hue of scarlet. He had owled Dumbledore asking for an explanation, who in turn gave him his standard one, full of riddles and hardly helpful. He still couldn't forget what he had finished the letter with: Do not worry Harry; the time will come when you will receive your answers, but you must remain patient. Harry had wanted to rant and rail, and to respond with a letter with a few riddles of his own, but an odd calm overtook him and when he looked up at his reflection in his room, his eyes seemed to flash gold.

Harry shook his head from the memory, and sneered at Dudley. "I think you've been playing a little too much World of WarcraftDiddykins.

"If you don't fess up I'll tell mum and dad." Harry snorted in laughter.

"You sure you want to run off to mummy and daddy? They'll probably have you committed, what with your ravings of people's eyes turning red." Harry smirked in satisfaction as he watched his cousin turn purple.

"Listen, freak, I came up here to try a hand at having a civil conversation with you." Dudley spluttered angrily, his fists clenching. Harry raised an eyebrow, shocked but refusing to let himself show it. Dudley seemed disconcerted by his lack of reaction and he stuttered as he tried to word what he want to civilly tell Harry.

"Well, what did you want then?" Dudley raised his head, and his anger seemed to ebb away as he looked down at his shoes, embarrassment seeming to take its place.

"Just wanted to say thanks. For last summer." Harry couldn't hide his reaction this time as his jaw dropped. Fortunately, Dudley was still staring at the floor as he mumbled, looking as if it took all his will power to say that to him. Which Harry didn't doubt it probably did. Harry couldn't help but wish to answer with a biting remark, but all he did was extend his hand. Dudley grabbed it, shook it once and quickly let go, nodding at him as he turned to his room.