I Just Can't Take It
He breathed heavily. Perfect. Just perfect. Another beating. What he'd always wanted. Why did no one ever come to help? They surely had to know. Especially the headmaster. Oh yeah, what did he say again? "I'm sure you and your family will be able to get over your misunderstandings, Harry."
That bloody twinkle! And telling the Dursleys Sirius was dead! The 'punishments' just got worse. The dementor incident was better than this.
A tear tricked from one of his swollen, blackened eyes. Sirius… Sirius! His godfather. The one whom he'd gotten killed. His friends. The'd followed him, and he'd just led them into a big, bloody trap! What kind of person was he? Maybe Snape was right. Perhaps he was a dunderheaded fool.
Harry shifted, letting out a pained whimper. He had the most horrible life of everyone he knew. The worst home life, too. But no one ever checked. Didn't they care about him? No, not really. The only one he'd truly trusted was dead, and Sirius had come to save him.
Harry was full out crying now. The next time he saw Bellatrix Lestrange he'd kill her himself. He didn't care what others thought of him anymore. Ever since the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, The Prophet had suddenly forgotten its extensive plans to declare him a lunatic.
It was getting cold, now. But it wasn't just the air from the opened window. Harry clamped down on his emotions before he screamed and started pummeling something or someone. It wouldn't do to wake his relatives up after all.
He hated feeling like this. Weak, helpless. When Cedric died. When Si- No. Harry promised himself that he wouldn't think about that anymore.
It would ultimately cause him more pain.
And the Prophecy. Oh, the Prophecy. Harry didn't give a damn. The Prophecy could go drown itself for all he cared. Besides, it could be interpreted a number of ways. Defying him- every time that his parents didn't accept Voldemort's crap was another time he'd defied him.
The mark. It could be anything, even emotional. A prick of the ringer would be considered a mark, for goodness sakes! The living and dying? Pish Posh! Nothing about that. It just mentioned survive. Also, it just said Dark Lord. Anyone could be a Dark Lord, not just Voldemort.
And it didn't even say it would be fulfilled this time. Who said it wasn't in the future? Is it even the real prophecy? Is there a prophecy? Someone could've just Imperio'd Trelawney. Besides, it never said it would come true at all. Harry had to believe that.
Harry made a resolution that day. He wouldn't play by anyone's rules anymore. This time, he'd stick to his own agenda and protect his friends to the best of his abilities. He'd die for them if he had too. No more walking down paths others had chosen for him. Harry was going to forge his own.
As the alarm rang, Harry softly whispered a "Happy Birthday" to himself. He'd just turned sixteen. His wish was to succeed in his goals, eyes glinting, no matter what.