If there was one thing Harry Potter wanted more than anything in the world, it was to be 'normal'. Not 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' or 'the Griffindor Golden Boy' or 'The Prophecy Child.' Not 'boy' or 'freak' or even 'Potter.' All he wanted was to be Harry, 'Just Harry'. But as they say, Fate's a Bitch.

Alone

It was a week since the ministry fiasco. A week alone, with no-one to talk to but himself. He had thought that Hermione at least would try to contact him, to see if he was alright. But there had been nothing. No letter, no phone call, nothing. He was alone, he now realized. Hedwig had gone to stay with Hermione, and the Dursley's ignored his existence in the house. He was alone in a world that either hated him, or idolized him.

Cold

He was cold. So cold. He was depressed, he knew that much. Not one letter, not one hint that there was someone other than him in this world. Three weeks now. Three weeks alone and cold, with no-one but himself for company. He felt as if he was standing one foot either side of great chiasm that opened under his feet, growing bigger and bigger, until he knew it would swallow him whole. The cold had started a little over a week ago, slowly sinking into his bones, consuming him. And it scared him. Harry was slowly sinking away into the dark recess of his mind. He wondered if this was how Sirius felt in Azkaban…that he was slowly loosing sense of who he was…

Empty

July 30. 5 minutes until midnight. The boy known as harry lay silently on the bed, a mere shadow of his former self. Where once bright green eyes shone out from under a curtain of glossy black locks, there were only dull, lifeless voids, hidden by matted knots. Harry Potter was no more. There was only a shell that held the broken spirit of a troubled youth.

The neon numbers of the battered alarm clock on the bedside table ticked over slowly, edging closer and closer to midnight. A glow seemed to emit from the body lying on the bed, a dull light that spread around the room and seeped out under the door and through the window. The light seemed to pulsate, 

growing in vibrancy steadily, until, with one final, bright flash, the wards around Number 4 Privet Drive evaporated, and the body of one Harry James Potter disappeared from the smallest bedroom.

A/N

Hi all!! Gosh, it's been so long since I've written anything! Anyway, please review and tell me what you think of this story. Any suggestions are more than welcome, as is constructive criticism.