Author's Note: Sorry that it took me so long to get a new story up...summer laziness. Hope you guys like this one, my first Harry Potter fan fiction. Leave reviews, constructive criticism is very welcome, as are any ideas you might have. Either leave it in a review or email me. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned this I would be a millionaire. As it is, I am not. You figure it out. (I'll give a hint: I don't own anything.)

The room was pitch black. The silence and the darkness were boring into his head; permeating into each crevice of his brain. Harry Potter sat up as quickly and suddenly as though he had been pulled into that position by an invisible string. Fumbling on his bedside table he grasped his glasses, but even with them on it made no difference. This was darkness that would not be penetrated, darkness so complete he could not even see his hand as he waved it in front of his face. Darkness so it be them? But then his common sense came back to him. They can't be here, Harry thought, because it isn't cold...At least that was a comforting thought, and one was better than none.

His stupidity hit him then. His hand went back to his bed table and reached for the light, but he reached too far and the lamp fell to the floor with a crash. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath. If anything was going to wake up the Dursley's it was that, and the last thing he needed was them in here yelling at him in this confounding dark. Carefully rising from his bed he stood up on the warm floorboards. He then shuffled his feet towards his door, where the overhead light switch lay. His hands reached out, searching, running over the wall until he found it. And sighed with relief as artificial light illuminated the room.

Overactive imagination again, he thought wryly. That had to be the thousandth time he had imagined something like that this summer. If I don't lay off this paranoia, I should change my name to Mad Eye. Perhaps the reason he found darkness so disturbing and so terrifying was because it was that which his life was nowadays. Since Sirius had died, he had found no rays of light anywhere in his life. And who could, he thought bitterly. Seems like a repeat of last summer; leaving me here to rot while the rest of the world gets on with it's business. And it was true. Two weeks had passed since his return from Hogwarts, and somebody had yet to mention getting him out of there. In fact, Ron and Hermione's letters were even more aggravating than they had been the previous summer. He had the distinct feeling that neither of them knew what to say to him, at least in print, although they felt the need to write to him. Members of the Order also send regular letters, mostly queries as to how the Dursley's were treating him.

And there was another oddity. All members of the Dursley family were avoiding him to the best of their ability. Granted Harry wasn't making it very hard for them as he rarely left his room, but if he so much as looked into a room containing a Dursley the said person would usually move rather hurriedly. All except his Aunt Petunia. While she would retreat it was with much more hesitation than the rest of the family exhibited, almost as though she wanted to talk to Harry. At times he would notice that she gave him strange looks, similar to the one she gave him halfway through last summer during all the kafuffle with the dementors. He did not know how much she knew, about the prophecy or any of it, but it was as though she sensed something different about him now, something that made her notice him as more than her hated sister's son. But he was too tired to debate whether Aunt Petunia might be more accepting of his "abnormality" than the rest of the family, or not. Turning his light back off and making his way back to bed (carefully avoiding the broken shards of his lamp), he fell asleep as soon as his head fell on the pillow.



Someone was shining a yellow light in his face, and knocking on his head, which seemed to be made of glass. In fact, his head had turned into a window. At a particularly loud and insistent tap he jerked awake to find his room bathed with hot sunlight. Looking at his clock he realized that it was almost noon. As he turned to look, a movement caught his eye and he discovered the source of the tapping in his dream. Three owls were banging at his window, rather annoyed looking. Four owls, he corrected himself. He had not noticed the small furry nutcase that belonged to Ron. He gave the owl carrying his Daily Prophet a coin and turned his attention to the others. There was Hedwig, back from her night's hunting, an official- looking owl and, most noticeably, perhaps, Pig. Pig was hard to forget because he was flying in circles around Harry's head.

"Come here, you", said Harry, finally snatching the bird out of the air. He untied the letter attached to its leg and let it fly over to Hedwig's cage where she grudgingly allowed it a sip of water. Looking back at the letter, Harry opened it to see Ron's familiar scrawl.

"Harry, Guess what? OWL results came for me yesterday. Hermione got Os in everything, can you believe it? Even Arithmancy, which she was so tetchy about, remember? Anyway, I did OK, better than I thought I was. T in Divination, though. Guess my examiner wasn't too happy with being called ugly. Mum's not thrilled with that one, but I always was going to fail. E in DADA, shove that one up Umbridge's...never mind. How'd you do? Write back, and just to tell you, I'm not sure but I think there's a plan to get you out of there. George gave me a few Extendables, and they're really useful, especially when you want to hear things you aren't supposed to be hearing. But Mum says to ask how the Muggles are treating you, hope it's all OK. I'll hopefully see you soon, Ron"

It was with a sinking feeling that Harry realized what must be contained within the official looking owl's burden. With much trepidation he reached out and relieved it of its burden. Better get it over with, he told himself. This would be the final call in his Auror future. He had thought vaguely of pursuing a career as an Auror since his fourth year, but after Sirius had died, a burning feeling entered his stomach at the thought of Death Eaters. He wanted to take action; he wanted revenge and the best way of going about that seemed to make it a profession. However, if he hadn't made the grades...the grades which had never before seemed important now reigned foremost in his mind. Get it over with, he told himself sternly. And so with hands that shook slightly he opened his letter. As he read, a gasp of surprise escaped his lips. There was something here he did not expect, and his hands now shook for a new reason.