FULL SUMMARY: Harry has had a miserable life for his first fifteen years. Discounting the one year he was with his parents, but since Harry couldn't remember his first year of life, he didn't count it. Until he was thirteen years of age he was with the Dursleys, for the last two he was with his new foster parent, Mr. Yics. He was taken away from the Dursleys and they were taken into custody for their abuse of him. (Only mentions, no graphic parts on this.) After Mr. Yics proved to be a bad foster parent as well, Harry was taken from him. Harry then went to a new foster mother, Ms. Hatchman, who sends him off to Hogwarts School for the Mindful Youth. There, he meets Sirius and Remus, two of his parents' friends. However, Remus and Sirius don't like each other. Harry finds out why later on. Harry also finds out why they have never been able to contact him before his visit to Hogwarts. Featuring Harry as depressed.
No pairings decided since their not really needed for the main storyline.
Chapter One:
Harry had been having a very deep sleep when his alarm clock abruptly woke him up. At first, he didn't stir, then he began to realize that the loud beeping in his bedroom was not going to go away on its own. He had to push himself to lift his hand and bring it to the alarm. Once his hand was there, he dropped it down on the snooze button. The silence was welcomed. Harry rolled over on his side and looked at the alarm's time. He glared at the bright numbers when they didn't go down a couple hours more. Every morning he felt the same: angry that he was awake and tired. Even if he was wide awake, he didn't want to be. He hated being awake. Being awake meant that he had to live. Living meant being made to go to a school he hated and being ignored by the rest of the population unless the people wanted to mock him. He hated his life.
Harry knew that he could have it worse. After all, he had gone to a bad adoptive family (the Dursleys) and one terrible foster parent (Mr. Yics) before, so he wasn't exactly ignorant of reality. In fact, reality was part of the reason that Harry hated living. When he slept, he was ignorant of everything. The world around him could be dying and unless it was really loud while doing so, he would sleep through it. If he could, he would sleep for days. Sometimes he thought he was being weird, but then again, he was a weird person. To him, sleeping was a drug. But at least it was a drug that didn't hurt him in any way. Unless he had a nightmare, but usually he was blessed enough to not have a dream at all.
Harry groaned slightly and withheld a scream of frustration. Lying on the bed felt good, but it didn't help him when he wanted to just roll over, close his eyes, and sleep for the rest of his life. He stretched where he laid and felt the numbness slowly receding from his limbs. He took a deep; steadying breath to prepare himself mentally for the day. He was already dreading it. Harry pushed those thoughts away, he had to get out of bed now, and having second thoughts was not going to help him with the task. He pushed himself up and turned his alarm fully off before he stood. He began to get ready for school.
Today was the first day at his new school, and he wasn't going to mess up his first day by being late. No matter how much he didn't want to go at all. Ms. Hatchman, his current foster mother, had told him all about his new school. She said that she herself loved the school when she went. The school's name was Hogwarts School for the Mindful Youth. He was told that he would be taking a train to the school and would live at the school until the summer. During the year there were breaks for holidays that he could go home for but Ms. Hatchman had informed him that special arrangements had been made so that he would have to stay at school for the whole year. She had told him that she had wanted him to be able to come back, but the government had forbade it.
Harry made his way to the bath, grabbing the uniform to his new school that Ms. Hatchman had left out for him and a towel along the way. Harry didn't know whether the school would be good or not, but in Harry's book, boarding schools were already supposed to be good. Why else would people want to stay at them? Harry did have doubts that he would make friends at the school, he hadn't made any real friends in his last few schools. But then again, he didn't want to have friends then. He had been on the defense still when he had gone to them, not that anyone would be able to blame him for acting so.
He hadn't been in the best environment in his house and had hated everything at the time. Social workers had finally gotten to their senses though, and he was taken to live with Ms. Hatchman. He had been with her for six months, and thus far, she had been nice. She had welcomed him with open arms, but had been gracious enough not to hug him. At least he was saved from living in a touchy-feely environment. He didn't know if he could deal with someone so close with him. Close contact was freaky. Maybe he would change his mind in the long run, but for now he was still edgy about his "bubble."
Harry washed quickly before drying off and dressing. He put the towel in the hamper with his pajamas. He glanced at his reflection in the foggy mirror and scowled, he could make out the outline of himself in the mirror and he detested it. Why people wanted mirrors in the first place, Harry didn't know. In his mind, mirrors were just a way of making people feel bad about themselves. As if the rest of the population didn't help with that enough. Dress like this, act like this, put your hair like this, smile but only if someone said something to you worth smiling for otherwise keep a blank face… The list of normal went on and on. Harry had been developing the list for years now, ever since he was placed in foster care. Before, he was at the Dursleys, and at the Dursleys, normal was life.
The Dursleys were the picture-perfect -normal- family. They lived in a quiet suburban area with the outside of their house painted like the rest of the houses and the yard trimmed just like the rest of the houses… They had the normal hard-working husband, Vernon Dursley, the housewife, Petunia Dursley, and the spoiled child, Dudley Dursley. What they had that wasn't normal, or at least in their eyes, was another child living with them. Their nephew to be exact. Harry was this nephew. He was brought to their household after an incident that his parents had died from.
The incident consisted of a cult leader, Tom Riddle (known by law enforcement as Voldemort) and his followers (who named themselves death eaters). The cult believed in purity, as many cults believe. They thought only the purist of people should live while the rest should die. Who the purist of people were, only the cult knew. Law enforcement believed the cult didn't even know who was pure and who wasn't, they instead had theories that Voldemort just told them who wasn't and the cult followed his words. The weird part about the cult, or at least to Harry, was that the followers would get tattoos on their left forearms of a skull with a snake going around it.
Voldemort had named the Potter family as impure and had ordered his followers to kill the family. The members of the cult had done so, but had stopped upon seeing the infant. None of them could kill the child as they didn't think a mere baby could be impure. Voldemort, however, decided that they were wrong. He had started to mark the child as impure by carving a lightning bolt scar on the child's forehead. Harry still had the scar to this day.
Voldemort was cut off before he could kill the child by the arrival of the police. He was captured with the followers that were with him at the home at the time and sentenced to life in maximum security prison. The prison, Azkaban, had been named the best prison for confinement of this century and Harry was happy the man had gotten sentenced to life behind bars there. Normal prisons wouldn't be as harsh as Azkaban would be and the jury had known it. The guards there were so strict and cold in heart that they had been named dementors. Harry didn't know why they were given the name, or what the title meant, but he did know that the mention of dementors never failed to send a shiver down his spine.
Law enforcement had looked for more death eaters and had even resorted to check forearms of people, but their search had been for naught when they couldn't get the death eaters behind bars for only the mark. For all they knew, the tattoo could have been put on before the cult or it could have been a dare for them to get the cult's mark. At least, that's what the death eater lawyers had argued. Harry didn't know much more about the trials, or who was put behind bars later on as Ms. Hatchman hadn't been able to give him anymore details.
Mr. Yics had given him plenty of knowledge on the subject, mainly through taunts that his parents had been killed by idiots. The Dursleys hadn't told him anything about the death of his parents except that they had died in a car crash caused by his father's drunk driving. Harry knew this for a lie, especially after Mr. Yics's, and then Ms. Hatchman's explanations.
Harry pulled his trunk to the car where Ms. Hatchman stood waiting for him. He gave her a small strained smile before placing the trunk in the back of the car. "Are you ready to go, hun?" she asked. Her voice was as sickly sweet as ever, or maybe Harry just thought it was. Mornings were not his thing. He hated talking in the mornings almost as much as he hated waking up. Almost.
Harry nodded as he got into the passenger's side of the car. Ms. Hatchman smiled at him before following his example and getting into the driver's side of the vehicle. She put the keys in the ignition and started up the car. After a moment she backed out of the driveway and began to drive down the road in the direction of the train station. Harry submerged himself in his thoughts while she did this, and didn't answer when she asked if he wanted to listen to the radio. She assumed he didn't and drove on.
Hogwarts, as Harry was told before, had four houses. Each house was unique to the personality of the person. Ravenclaw was for those that liked learning. Hufflepuff for those that loved friends and cared more for loyalty to those friends than most people would. Slytherin was for those with cunning and strive to prove themselves to the world. Gryffindor was for the brave and daring. As for the sorting, students were given a test through mail that would be sent back to the school when finished via mail. The school would then grade the tests accordingly and determine the house. Students weren't told what house they would get into before going to the school. That would ruin the surprise, or at least that's what the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had said when asked.
Harry may not have met the man, but Dumbledore seemed to be a nice man. He had let Harry come to school this year even though most students aren't allowed to enter school at an age above eleven. Harry, as a sixteen year old, had been stunned to know that he was allowed after hearing this bit of news from his foster mother. He was usually not the exception to anything, least of all an exception to a widely known school rule. He wasn't sure what to make of it besides a stroke of good luck. At least, he hoped it was a struck of good luck. For all he knew the school could be a horrid place that he hated.
Harry sighed as his thoughts took a turn as they always did. The what-ifs about the past took him. He had thought too many times for his sanity about how his life would be if something, even something small, had changed. For instance, he thought about what if he had chosen this or done this differently, or what if he had chosen not to call social services on the Dursleys after they had gone to far, or what if he hadn't told his teacher about Mr. Yics? The more disturbing thoughts were always included in what-ifs. Like what if he was never born. That what-if always came at the wrong times. He could be content or the rare happy at one time then the unwelcome thought would enter his head. He was almost driven mad by it. If he wasn't born, then his parents would be alive. He knew that they would have been, he just did. Maybe they were targeted for the soul reason that he was born.
Harry had thought that maybe his birth was advertised in a newspaper and Voldemort chose his family because of it. He did find out from a site he found at a library computer at the school he went to when he had been under Mr. Yics "care" that only two babies had been born around the end of July that year. He was one of them and the other was Neville Longbottom. He had also found out that both their births had been in the newspaper, but Neville's had been in the newspaper a day later due to the editor's mistake. (Although, Neville was actually born a day before Harry, on July 30th.) All this information made Harry wince with his realizations. It was his fault that his parents had died, however unintentional.
Harry sighed again and made himself think about the present. The car was pulling into the train station. Ms. Hatchman picked a close parking space and put up her handicap parking sign on her front mirror. What handicap she had, Harry did not know. He hadn't seen her having trouble with anything in the six months that he had lived with her. She had even gardened and did yoga a few times. He had even seen her going jogging with a few women from the neighborhood. He had asked her once about the sign when she had taken him to the store with her and put it up. All she did was wink and say that all old people got one for something as long as they knew how to complain enough about that something.
Harry didn't think Ms. Hatchman looked old, but he decided to let the discussion drop. He didn't talk much and didn't want answers to everything unless it bugged him to the point of asking. he shook it off as part of her weirdness. Ms. Hatchman had always been a bit loony like that, but he had welcomed her more because of it. Had she been serious or strict he wouldn't have liked talking to her at all. She was the most unusual person he had ever met, but that didn't make her crazy, only endearing to him. After he saw how great her "madness" was, he grew to embrace the normal code as a simple rulebook for how to go unnoticed until you grew old enough to not care anymore. At least, that's what Ms. Hatchman believed: that all old people should be allowed to do whatever they want without question because they're old.
Harry got out of the car with Ms. Hatchman. He got his trunk out of the back of the car before shutting the door. Harry rubbed the back of his head and sighed, now he and Ms. Hatchman just had to find the train. She handed him the ticket after checking it herself. "Okay, so all we need to do now is find platform 9 and you'll be on you're way to the best school I've ever known!" she said excitedly.
He turned towards the station curiously. He pushed up his glasses delicately before looking at the ticket he was just handed. It stated that the station was called King's Cross and that he was to be on a train called The Hogwart's Express. In tinier print was the platform's number (Platform 9) and the time the train left (11:00 AM) along with the date. Harry pulled his trunk behind him as he headed into the station. Around him he could see number signs on columns separating the platforms. He pushed up his glasses again a little impatiently this time, as he followed Ms. Hatchman through the entrance to the building.
Along the way, Harry started to think about how much had changed in the time he had been taken away from Mr. Yics to the present time. He had gone through a trial, much like the trial he had went to after he had been taken from the Dursley family. Then, he was given a psychiatrist after Mr. Yics. Apparently, he was supposed to get one before then, but the government must've gotten mixed up in other affairs. Harry knew the Ministry was a good government, but after the cult that Voldemort had set up, it had been busier than ever. Sure, years had passed, but the fact remained that sometimes riots occurred from members and other times murders were carried out in the name of Voldemort. Harry didn't want to blame the Ministry when it was so apparent that they were just doing their jobs.
Sighing, Harry thought how hard it had been to talk with some man he didn't know. Especially since the psychiatrist didn't seem to realize how much Harry felt uncomfortable around men. A month later, after Harry admitted that he didn't want to be in a room alone with a man, Harry was given a new psychiatrist, a woman this time by the name of Ms. Tonks. (Although, she told Harry to call her Tonks.) He was able to talk a bit more to this one, although he was still having some trouble when he thought of telling her everything in his life. She was patient though, and he ended up just talking about his day for the most part. She was pretty friendly, and Harry noticed that she was pretty clumsy as well. Not even his second time there, she had accidentally knocked over the table beside her. Accidents like this were the norm with Tonks, which made Harry like her even more. He didn't think he would have progressed half as much if it wasn't for the fact that he got to see the "human" side of his psychiatrist.
When he and his caretaker made it to the train, his nerves caught up with him. The bright red train was surrounded by what Harry thought to be were students and their families. He felt a sting when he realized that he was most likely to be the only student without a real family to go home to during the summer. Not to mention the only one staying at school for the entirety of the school year until summer. Harry couldn't help but think how being an exception to the school rule about coming in after age eleven was a bad thing now that he realized what else that exception rule meant. Not only would he be behind in classes, but he'd also have to deal with the fact that everyone around him would already be settled into the school's atmosphere. And the thought of being in a boarding school didn't do much to help his nerves at all, he would have to stay there for an entire year, so there was nowhere he could hide if things at school got bad.
He shook his head from those thoughts as his caretaker began to speak. "You can contact me at anytime if you have to. I put some money in your trunk in the front pocket along with my phone number in case you forget it…Just remember to have fun, you're still young no matter how much you don't want to admit it." Ms. Hatchman had always joked about his anti-social and distant ways. He knew she joked about it in hopes that he would think of it a little less seriously. After all, he thought of them as instincts brought on from his past, which was a little more than troubled. He agreed with her in the sense that he should act more his age than someone who had to grow up too quickly, but he still didn't know how to act more his age.
Acting like the Dursleys wanted their son, Dudley, to act seemed disgusting to say the least. But, that's how they say "normal" sons should act. Harry had seen people his age and had tried to act like them, but he couldn't do it for long without wanting to kill himself for it. He was depressed enough already without having to replace his personality to make friends. Somehow, faking life just didn't settle with him, yet to be normal was to act like he was normal. He was not normal and he wasn't about to be anytime soon. He wasn't going to kid himself either and act differently to impress a group of people who wouldn't want anything to do with him unless he acted like they wanted him to. As if he was a puppet and they were the puppeteers.
"Thanks Ms. Hatchman, for everything," Harry said. "I'll be sure to call and write to you to keep you updated." he added.
Ms. Hatchman nodded, "Remember everything I've told you these past few months, okay? And don't forget to call me when you're ready to tell me you're final answer." she added.
Harry nodded with a slight smile. Ms. Hatchman had wanted him to guess what house she had been in while in Hogwarts, but she hadn't wanted him to guess while he hadn't met the people of those houses yet. "As soon as I'm ready, I'll give you that fated call." Harry said.
"And remember not to show you're cell phone to anyone, okay? I put it in the front pocket of your trunk with everything else. And if you do show them, make sure they're people you trust." Ms. Hatchman added.
Harry nodded. He had already had this conversation with her before. He knew that cell phones weren't allowed at Hogwarts, but given the circumstances of what had happened to him beforehand, he had been given a special privilege to carry the phone with him. Though, he really didn't think he was going to have anymore breakdowns, he hadn't had one in over a month. But they weren't taking any chances. He had Tonks's phone number already programmed into the phone with a speed dial just in case. He hadn't had the time to program in Ms. Hatchman's number yet, hence why she put her number on a piece of paper into his trunk. Ms. Hatchman had packed most of his things for him while he was in therapy and such. He probably would've waited until the night before otherwise.
Ms. Hatchman looked at her watch, "Good, we're early!" she commented. "You'll have plenty of time to get settled in!"
Harry shook Ms. Hatchman's hand before saying goodbye to her. She gave him a wide smile and one last wink before turning away and walking back to the entrance of the train station.
Harry sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He needed to get on the train and find an empty compartment or else he'd have to deal with other people on the ride there, and he didn't find the thought of other people comforting in the least. He took his trunk with him as he climbed onto the train, glad he managed to pull his trunk up the stairs more easily than he originally thought he would. Glancing down the corridor, he found that only a couple people were there. Taking this as a good sign, Harry proceeded down the corridor, grasping his trunk loosely while noting to himself to thank Ms. Hatchman for getting him a trunk with wheels.
Harry found that while most compartments were void of people, they held belongings of the people instead. He rolled his eyes at the thought of people leaving their things unprotected. He thought the students would at least have more common sense than that. Anyone could steal their stuff while they were outside talking to their family and friends. Harry once again made himself stop thinking about the stupidity of others as he chose a compartment in the back of the train. After all, what other people did was none of his concern.
First, Harry chose to open his trunk and take out a schoolbook to study from. He was already behind enough with both the fact that he was coming into the school as a sixth year and the fact that he hadn't been able to concentrate on studying during his time with Ms. Hatchman. Harry then closed his trunk and hoisted it onto the rack above. Next he closed the compartment door to discourage people from entering.
Settling on a seat next to the window, Harry sighed and opened the book, The Basics of Chemistry, to the first page. Having already gone over biology with Ms. Hatchman, who was surprisingly good in the subject, Harry pretty much understood the basics of biology. Chemistry, however, proved more difficult. He couldn't concentrate on the chemical names at all and the symbols used for the chemicals only made his confusion increase tenfold.
Harry pinched his nose in frustration by the time he reached page twenty-two. He flipped the book over to see that, indeed, the book said that it was for the basics of chemistry. Sighing, Harry forced himself to concentrate again, but he already knew that it was too much information at once for him. He felt even stupider by page twenty-seven, when he found his mind preoccupied on the fact that he's going to fail the class. His mood gradually began to get more and more frustrated until he put the book down and found himself thinking of how in his other schools he would fail basically because he could never even try to do the homework due to intervention by either the Dursley family or Mr. Yics respectively. He groaned, knowing that today was already turning into a "down-day" as he called them. On these days, he would always have to force himself to do things, and even then the things he did weren't done very well at all. These days usually started out well and ended with disaster. He would want to either kill someone by the end or he would want to die himself by then. He didn't know how his mood changed so quickly, since he was a boy and not an emotional woman, but his government-appointed psychiatrist, Tonks, had assured him that his mind had never been given a chance to emotionally act out in his childhood. The Dursleys had seen to that. And his mind had never been able to act out at all during his stay with Mr. Yics for the two years he had been with the man he had shut-down.
Groaning yet again, Harry laid down on the long seat. Ms. Hatchman once told him that laying down stimulated the mind better than sitting did, but it also made you too sleepy to do much. He picked the book back up and propped it on his legs so he could read it again. He restarted the book and read slower this time instead of the basic skimming he had been doing before. By the time he was on page ten, the train had finally started moving. He wondered how much time had passed with him being in the compartment and what time he had arrived. Usually, he was never early to anything. He knew an hour must've passed at least, less than that would've been too quick for him to even consider.
The train ride was too long in Harry's opinion. But, he had been able to complete his chemistry textbook during the time so he wasn't complaining much. He even took some notes to help him remember symbols of elements. Normally, he wouldn't even try to learn, but he didn't want to be moved again and the social worker had informed him that if he didn't pass this year then he would be moved to a different foster parent and be made to go to a different school. He had started the books after a month of "healing time" as Ms. Hatchman called it. During the six months he had stayed with her, he wasn't made to go to school at all, which was a blessing. He hadn't wanted to be in a school environment at all during the months. One reason was that he was studying the last five years worth of classes for this new school. Another reason was that he had enough going on with the whole government issue to even want to deal with classmates. Not to mention that he couldn't transfer so easily into the school during the school year. All it would have been was troublesome and not worth the time.
Hogwarts didn't seem like a normal school at all to Harry, regardless to the fact that Harry had never been to a boarding school. Being sorted into houses was unheard of in any school Harry had ever been to, not to mention how many classes this particular school offered. Harry thought back to the list of classes he was given to choose from. Classes were offered in almost every skill Harry could imagine, from English to Survival 101, Hogwarts offered it all. He had been nervous at first to choose his own classes rather than having the school counselor tell him what he would take, but in the end he was proud of his choices. Literature, Chemistry, Herbology, Defense 101, Calculus, Physical Education, and Public Speaking. He hadn't wanted to add Public Speaking, but was rather forced into it by Ms. Hatchman. He had a total of seven courses, which was more than the school recommended. He wished he was able to drop at least one; he didn't think he was prepared enough for all these classes. He had never taken a class with plants before, or a defense class, so he knew for sure he would fail both of them. Not to mention the fact that the defense class was going to be too much for him, he just knew it.
Taking Defense 101 was a must with the school. Students were made to take it for at least a year-if not two. So, all the students at Hogwarts were trained, at least in defending themselves if not attacking others. Most students prefer to take the class for five or more years, which made Harry think back to the fact that he was going to be put in a beginner class. The school hadn't told him if he was or not, but he knew he had to be, where else would they put him? He had to be rubbish at the fighting part, how else would his cousin, Dudley, had been able to beat him up? Adults were one thing, but people the same age as him were another. Tonks had told him not to blame himself for the adults, but she hadn't said anything about his cousin.
Thinking back to Tonks, Harry got a bit more nervous. She had told him about the arrangements for his therapy sessions. He was to go for two times a week when at school instead of his normal three times. She said it was because of his progress, but Harry knew it was because of the inconvenience of the travel to and from the school. Tonks hadn't told him much of how she was going to get to the school, how long she was going to be at the school, or if she was even going to leave the school. Sure, they were near the same questions, but he thought they were all valid questions that needed answers.
Hogwarts was in Scotland, much to Harry's surprise when he had heard it. Harry had never been out of Britain before, and was ecstatic to be out of it. He was going to be far away from Mr. Yics or even the Dursleys, farther than he had ever dreamed of being, and he loved the thought.
Harry yawned closed his eyes. His book now laid on the floor, closed. The notes he had taken were inside the book and the pen he had used was currently rolling on the floor. Harry shifted on the seat until he was laying on his side, his back facing the back of the seat. Harry always slept with his back facing the wall, otherwise he would never rest. He was kind of paranoid when it came to being asleep. Okay, he was very paranoid when it came to being asleep. He didn't like being unguarded, and sleep was the one bodily function that made him unable to defend himself from a sudden attack. Even though he loved sleep, he respected the fact that he needed to be aware of where he was before going to sleep. At Ms. Hatchman's house, he had felt guarded for at least the first three months, until he learned that nothing was going to harm him anytime soon. Only then did he relax enough to get the full benefits of sleep. And those benefits were good.
Harry dozed off, and wasn't even woken when a woman with a trolley peeked into the compartment, smiled at the sight of the sleeping boy, and left without a word. In fact, Harry didn't wake up until the train came to a complete stop. Not that the awakening was all that great, mind you. The sudden stop had jolted his body from the seat to the floor. Sure, the floor was soft, but that didn't stop Harry from panicking at the sudden assault. After a moment, Harry recollected himself and got up from the floor. He wiped his face, to make sure nothing was on it before straightening out his uniform. Next, he got his luggage and placed his book inside. He looked for the pen and found it under the seat, he placed the pen inside his trunk before zipping the trunk up and straightening it up. He then exited the compartment and followed the crowd out of the train.
Author's Note: (Disclaimer can be found on my profile.)
I know, I know…sigh…I was supposed to update my OTHER fics! But, to be fair, I had to write this one, I HAD TO! It was bugging me to no end! I literally sat down and started writing on a story I already have posted only to find myself writing this one! Don't be mad! Please?
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