HEY.
this is my first hp story on this site, and i havent done them in a while. be gentle (please).
SUMMARY:
So Harry Potter is a complicated teenager. He's got a lot on his mind. Though I dont know definatly where this stories going, HPGW eventually, and the story keeps up on Ginny too. It all takes place in the during Harry's final year at Hogwarts BUT Dumbledor is still alive. Dont ask why, he just is. And there's obviously gonna be a different outcome then the book.
enjoy and reviews would be nice...
INTRO:
At the moment, The Boy Who Lived really didn't feel like being alive.
And at this moment, if anyone were to see him, they would think he was attempting to end his life. However, it was not the case.
Harry Potter looked down from the edge of the Astronomy Tower, and wondered vaguely if there was an anti-suicide charm installed that would stop him from hitting the ground if he decided to jump. He decided that tonight would not be the night to find this out, turned around, and hopped of the ledge.
His invisibility cloak lay crumpled next to the wall of the tower; he grabbed it and draped it over his shoulders. Although it was not uncommon for the teenagers of Hogwarts to visit the tower in the hours of the night, it was for reasons entirely different that his, and Harry did not feel like having anymore rumors spread about him then necessary.
As the teen pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, he glanced back over the pitch black grounds of the castle. The Forbidden Forest loomed at the edge of the clearing below, the trees not moving at all in the soft night breeze.
Only Dumbledore knew what was truly out there, and yet it was said that there were secrets of the forest that even evaded him. A little voice in the back of Harry's head whispered how fun it would be to just summon his broom and do a little late night exploring.
Harry ignored it, knowing well enough that if he did that, he would not return. And it would not have anything to do with the dangers of the forest.
With that final thought, he began the decent down the stairs he had trekked up a few hours earlier, and, with the help of the Marauders Map, made his way back to his dormitory.
But The Boy Who Lived would not sleep that night. He would lie awake in bed, staring at his ceiling, as he had done for the past two months. He would not sleep, he would not dream, he would not talk. He would just lie there, thinking, until the early hours of dawn.
Harry Potter could never sleep anymore. Because when he did, he heard their voices.