Chapter 1; Privet Drive
Harry Potter lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom of number four, Privet drive, staring up at the ceiling. He'd spent most of the last few weeks here in his bed, doing absolutely nothing.
He raised his right hand, glaring at a gold locket that dangled from his fingers. The fake Horcrux. The one that had changed everything.
Dumbledore was dead, and it was all because of the trip to find the locket that was supposed to contain a seventh of Voldemort's soul. That, and Severus Snape's Killing Curse. However, they'd been too late. Someone called R.A.B. had beaten them to finding it. He hoped they were lucky and that it had been destroyed by R.A.B., but Harry just knew it was still out there somewhere, keeping Voldemort immortal that much longer, along with Helga Hufflepuff's cup, Nagini, and something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. It was much more likely to be something that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, as Voldemort would have valued the intelligence of the house of Ravenclaw over Godric Gryffindor's bravery.
He sighed and dropped his hand back to the bed. Just one more day here at the Dursleys, and then he could begin his hunt for the rest of the Horcruxes. He would no longer be an underage wizard, but of age, and able to use magic without the Ministry stopping him. Then, he would be able to begin his fight against Voldemort and his Horcruxes.
Ron and Hermione would join him after he left Privet Drive. He didn't want them to, but they weren't going to let him go without them. At least he'd convinced them that he could stay at the Dursleys on his own. After all, he was supposed to be best protected there. But as soon as he turned seventeen, he was leaving, and he would never come back. He would have to go to the Burrow for a few days, for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and then to Godric's Hollow. Who knew where he would go after that. Voldemort could have hidden the Horcruxes anywhere. But he would find them, no matter how well Voldemort thought he'd hidden them.
He wondered if Hogwarts was going to be reopened. It didn't seem likely, not after Dumbledore had been killed right there in the castle. No one had ever expected that. Of course, Harry had known all along that Malfoy had been up to something. No one had believed him. Maybe if they had, Dumbledore would still be alive. They could have stopped him from fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, locked him up, something, anything that would have changed what had happened.
When he found the two of them, though, Snape and Malfoy, he would make them pay. He would get revenge for them taking away Dumbledore.
He turned his head slightly as he heard the scraping of a bowl into his room through the catflap in his door. He had no desire to eat whatever it was. He hadn't had much of a desire to eat much of anything since Dumbledore had died. The Dursleys hadn't complained; they had been ignoring him since he'd gotten back from Hogwarts. Besides his aunt pushing food through the catflap and taking away the mostly full dishes, he hadn't had any contact with them. However, tonight he could hear his uncle yelling up the stairs.
"Boy, you had better be eating!"
Harry rolled his eyes and turned his head to stare out the window instead. He heard thundering footsteps coming up the stairs and coming to a stop outside his door. Several loud clicks later, and the footsteps were stopping by his bed.
"Get up and eat. I'm not wasting my money so that you can refuse the food we provide for you," his uncle growled.
"Why do you care? I'd have thought you'd be glad for me to drop dead," said Harry.
Harry felt a sharp pain in his head and saw stars briefly.
"You'll eat, or I'll force it down your throat. I won't have those freaks coming round wanting to know why we're not feeding you. Now get to it."
His uncle stomped away and slammed the door.
Harry found that there was now a bowl of a watery looking soup sitting on the table by his bed as he dragged himself into a sitting position. He grimaced when he picked it up and tasted a spoonful. It was lukewarm and tasted almost as bad as one of Madam Pomfrey's potions. He managed to force down most of the soup and put the bowl back on the table.
He laid back down to resume his position of staring at the ceiling, but instead curled up on his side. His stomach had begun hurting and he started to regret eating the soup. He closed his eyes to try to sleep as his fingers automatically found the fake Horcrux to clutch.
When Harry woke again, it was nearly dark outside and the only light in the room was the moon shining brightly. He felt strangely hot and cold at the same time. His eyelids felt heavy and didn't want to stay open, but he fought the strange sensations as he struggled to detangle himself from his thin blanket, which had somehow become tangled in his legs.
He was distracted from freeing his legs by the shadow of a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look, but there was no one there. He kicked his legs free of the blanket and rolled onto his other side. His eyes started to close again on their own, but he forced them open again when he heard a soft movement from behind him.
Before he could even think of moving, however, a soft cloth was covering his nose and mouth. He smelled something strong and earthy and tried to fight back, but he was still feeling sick. He managed to swing his elbow back and hit it into something soft. He heard a soft grunt behind him, but his fighting was useless, as his eyes closed on their own once more, into a deep sleep.
A/N: The title is Latin, and translates to No man lies freely. It'll make sense later in the story.