Chapter One:
A boy of sixteen stared out of his bedroom window, oblivious to the laughter and talking from the floor below. He only acknowledged the inky-black sky with its occasional bright specks of star decorating it. This boy was none other than Harry Potter, the youngest wizard to survive a curse aimed from Voldemort's wand, the only wizard to live through the killing curse.
More false laughter echoed in the dinning room. Another one of his uncle's work parties. There had been many since his promotion. Vernon Dursley was now vice president of Grunnings. The job had been a huge turn around for the Dursleys. The extra money was used to buy "necessities" such as expensive jewelry for Petunia, a new car for Vernon, but what disgusted Harry most were the gifts his cousin got. Video games, a big screen tv, computer, top-of-the-line stereo system. These were just a few luxuries which reminded everyone that Dudley was in fact the only child Mr. And Mrs. Dursley cared for. Harry, however, did receive a small gift. He was in need of more clothes so he was rewarded with a new pair of socks. They had the same color of what could be described as regurgitated broccoli.
Harry continued to study the sky, only stopping when a yawn forced him to shut his eyes for a moment. For nearly three hours longer he stared. The noises of the party gradually changed. Laughter, a deep cough of an elderly man, plates clattering, silver wear scraping porcelain, talking, another cough, more laughter. Finally a car door shutting, a car driving away.
"Boy!"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" The portly man's footsteps went unnoticed by Harry as they climbed the stairs, and they had suddenly shaken him back into reality.
Uncle Vernon rapped loudly on Harry's door, "Help you aunt clean up," the man commanded.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said dully.
"Ungrateful little twit," the man grunted before walking back down the stairs to settle into his favorite chair by the television set.
Harry cleared the plates from the dinning room table, washed them, and then vacuumed the floor so that it was free of crumbs and other remains of food left by the untidy company. After Vernon approved his work, Harry was given a bowl of cold soup and a rather mangled-looking piece of pie to eat in the solitude of his bedroom. This was how he liked it.
Ever since his fifth year of Hogwarts ended, Harry had made a point to be alone as much as possible. He wasn't done grieving the loss of his godfather, Sirius, but he was making an effort to make his summer holiday a good one- for once. Harry kept his promise to the Order about sending a letter with Hedwig every three days, and in return received post from Remus and some of his friends from school. They generally avoided the topic of Sirius, which angered Harry a bit. They made him feel like a child, hidden from harsh words of reality. The watch set up for his protection was not any better. Sometimes when Harry stepped outside he saw a bush rustle, or heard familiar voices. It was not uncommon to hear foot steps behind him on his walks to the park, or jogs around the neighborhood. At first Harry began jogging for the simple love of feeling a cool breeze through his hair, and the thought of possibly building up muscle to hide his lanky figure, but now he had another reason to love his jogs. He could hear Tonks, sometimes Shackelbolt running under an invisibility charm to catch up with him. They would always be panting, struggling to keep with him.
"My aurorer training left me in tip-top shape, I can assure you. I've just got a bit of a problem with long distance though."
Harry would recall a quote from Tonks on his little running sprees.
*Ha, they can't just apparate because I might hear them.*
Harry loved playing little torturous games like this to make it harder for those watching him. After all, he was sixteen, nearly an adult in the wizarding world. Not only did he deserve some independence, it was a born right. A right he was stripped from.
~~~
A/N: I can't wait one flicking day without posting, can I? I thought I'd put this up sometime this week but if I don't post now I think I'll go mad. Just shows how much fan fiction took over my life this year. I know it's a short chapter, but with this story I'm making a greater effort to write longer chapters. Well, this is just a little taste of what's to come. The title isn't definate just yet. It'll most likely change as the story developes more.
A boy of sixteen stared out of his bedroom window, oblivious to the laughter and talking from the floor below. He only acknowledged the inky-black sky with its occasional bright specks of star decorating it. This boy was none other than Harry Potter, the youngest wizard to survive a curse aimed from Voldemort's wand, the only wizard to live through the killing curse.
More false laughter echoed in the dinning room. Another one of his uncle's work parties. There had been many since his promotion. Vernon Dursley was now vice president of Grunnings. The job had been a huge turn around for the Dursleys. The extra money was used to buy "necessities" such as expensive jewelry for Petunia, a new car for Vernon, but what disgusted Harry most were the gifts his cousin got. Video games, a big screen tv, computer, top-of-the-line stereo system. These were just a few luxuries which reminded everyone that Dudley was in fact the only child Mr. And Mrs. Dursley cared for. Harry, however, did receive a small gift. He was in need of more clothes so he was rewarded with a new pair of socks. They had the same color of what could be described as regurgitated broccoli.
Harry continued to study the sky, only stopping when a yawn forced him to shut his eyes for a moment. For nearly three hours longer he stared. The noises of the party gradually changed. Laughter, a deep cough of an elderly man, plates clattering, silver wear scraping porcelain, talking, another cough, more laughter. Finally a car door shutting, a car driving away.
"Boy!"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" The portly man's footsteps went unnoticed by Harry as they climbed the stairs, and they had suddenly shaken him back into reality.
Uncle Vernon rapped loudly on Harry's door, "Help you aunt clean up," the man commanded.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said dully.
"Ungrateful little twit," the man grunted before walking back down the stairs to settle into his favorite chair by the television set.
Harry cleared the plates from the dinning room table, washed them, and then vacuumed the floor so that it was free of crumbs and other remains of food left by the untidy company. After Vernon approved his work, Harry was given a bowl of cold soup and a rather mangled-looking piece of pie to eat in the solitude of his bedroom. This was how he liked it.
Ever since his fifth year of Hogwarts ended, Harry had made a point to be alone as much as possible. He wasn't done grieving the loss of his godfather, Sirius, but he was making an effort to make his summer holiday a good one- for once. Harry kept his promise to the Order about sending a letter with Hedwig every three days, and in return received post from Remus and some of his friends from school. They generally avoided the topic of Sirius, which angered Harry a bit. They made him feel like a child, hidden from harsh words of reality. The watch set up for his protection was not any better. Sometimes when Harry stepped outside he saw a bush rustle, or heard familiar voices. It was not uncommon to hear foot steps behind him on his walks to the park, or jogs around the neighborhood. At first Harry began jogging for the simple love of feeling a cool breeze through his hair, and the thought of possibly building up muscle to hide his lanky figure, but now he had another reason to love his jogs. He could hear Tonks, sometimes Shackelbolt running under an invisibility charm to catch up with him. They would always be panting, struggling to keep with him.
"My aurorer training left me in tip-top shape, I can assure you. I've just got a bit of a problem with long distance though."
Harry would recall a quote from Tonks on his little running sprees.
*Ha, they can't just apparate because I might hear them.*
Harry loved playing little torturous games like this to make it harder for those watching him. After all, he was sixteen, nearly an adult in the wizarding world. Not only did he deserve some independence, it was a born right. A right he was stripped from.
~~~
A/N: I can't wait one flicking day without posting, can I? I thought I'd put this up sometime this week but if I don't post now I think I'll go mad. Just shows how much fan fiction took over my life this year. I know it's a short chapter, but with this story I'm making a greater effort to write longer chapters. Well, this is just a little taste of what's to come. The title isn't definate just yet. It'll most likely change as the story developes more.