Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story and it is being used for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Notes: A several part piece about Harry's summer right before he goes off on the search for the horcruxes and hunt down Voldermort. Centered around the wedding at the Weasleys. Multi ship and POV. This part is the intro of sort, which is why it's rather short. Post HBP; spoilers abound. Read, Review, and enjoy.

Prologue:

Summer was, for Harry, the same as it normally was: Hot, humid, and as miserable as ever.

Time with the Dursleys was spent in his room, staring out the window and reading and re- reading the articles and newspapers that were being sent to him through owl. Letters went unopened and ignored. He had chosen to spend his time, the excess amount of it that he had, much like he had the summer before. Carefully and wastefully, watching the window every night as the sun set and sometimes he even caught it rise the next morning.

Sleep was a foreign thing to him by then, and when it did claim him he dreamed of what was yet to come. Often he woke in a cold sweat, breathing harshly and more scared than he had ever been in his life. Much like last summer, Harry would sometimes find his way back over to his window, his face flush against it watching and waiting.

For what he did not know.

The only difference was this time around Dumbledore wouldn't be coming to rescue him. Harry had come to terms with the fact that Dumbledore, who had for so long been such a big part of his life, was no longer there. Like his parents, Sirius and probably even Hogwarts, Harry would never see his gray haired friend with his half moon glasses again. He would never hear his sage advice, his warm, calming voice.

He would never enter the spiral staircase behind the gargoyle and see him sitting there waiting.

Chances were he would never enter that staircase again, and Harry could not decide which thought was worse. The one about never returning to Hogwarts or the one about losing Dumbledore-- another person who, in large part, had given his life for him and the entire wizarding world.

A noble cause done by a great man who was taken long before his time.

Snape had killed him, right in front of his very eyes, and the fire of rage still burned within Harry with no chance of quenching it.

Just thinking that thought, even it were a mere passing one, made his stomach turn with grief. Made him sadder, angrier, and yet, even though he was dispassionate about almost everything it also made him more resolved. Thinking about Dumbledore, thinking about Sirius and his parents made the adrenaline he could taste in his mouth flow rapidly through his veins. Consume him.

Months ago, years ago even, what boiled inside of him just beneath the surface would have scared him. Terrified him. Now, much like numerous other things in his life, Harry was indifferent towards it.

It did not even matter. It was just another thing driving him that much farther, that much harder towards what he knew laid before him. What he knew was left to do.

Life as he knew it was over for Harry Potter.

Harry knew that he was no longer the Boy Who Lived, he was instead the man who was going to do what no one else could. He was the one person in the wizarding World who could do what almost every other witch and wizard feared to do. Harry Potter was the chosen one, sure, but that didn't matter in the least.

What mattered was that Harry Potter knew what had to be done. Knew what risks would be involved (Ron, Hermione, The Weasleys… Ginny… His life) and yet still he had chosen to do it. He chose to defend those he cared about and avenge the ones he had lost.

It could, quite possibly, turn out to be the worst choice he had ever made. But he had made it. He had given Dumbledore his word, and if there was one thing the greatest wizard he had ever met had taught him, it was that one should never, ever go back on their word.

With an anguished sigh, Harry moved the numerous copies of The Daily Prophet off his bed, not caring in the least as they dropped soundlessly on to the even messier floor. He collapsed on to it, feeling the weight he felt on his shoulders lessen slightly as they rested against the uncomfortable mattress. Turning on his side he continued to stare out the window and into a blackened sky.

Somewhere close to number four Privet Drive a lamp post flickered. Once, then twice, and then went out completely. His heart leapt in his chest, pounded fiercely against his rib cage. Despite himself he started to raise on his elbows to get a better look. It was stupid though, and made him feel even more stupid as he laid back down staring at the ceiling this time instead of out the window.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the lamp post light flicker back on weakly, and his heart fell even though every bone in his body knew it should not have. It would be a few more miserable days until he could escape to the Burrow one last time. Until he could finally be surrounded by a love that was suppose to protect him but he knew so little about.

Thinking of the Weasleys then, Harry couldn't even find it in himself to smile even the slightest. Thoughts involving the red haired family with all their quirks and abnormalities that he loved and cherished both usually brought a smile to his face. Made him feel better. The smallest amount of surprise rose within him and then quickly disappeared when he felt nothing.

Thinking of Ron and Hermione made him feel guilty and afraid. Made him think of ways to try and convince them to stay behind after the wedding, to live their lives while he tried to fulfill the destiny he was born with.

Thinking of Ginny-- all innocence and beauty-- as memories flashed through his mind of holding hands and stolen kisses, a pit in his stomach appeared and threatened to swallow him whole.

His heart beat against his chest rapidly, his eyes closed and he could almost picture her, right there, comforting him like no other could. It made him sad, thinking of Ginny, thinking about all that he'd have to give up and he pushed those thoughts out of his head. Tried to forget them so he'd never have to think about them again.

So the pit in his stomach would disappear completely and leave him with something resembling peace.

Harry closed his weary eyes and waited for himself to fall into a restless sleep. He eventually did, a bit easier than he had in days, and in doing so his dreams were filled with images both wanted and forbidden.

Harry dreamed of his father clutching a golden snitch in his hand. He dreamed of black dogs and half moons. He dreamed of a girl with fiery red hair clutching his hand in her own, kissing him like he had never been kissed before. Harry dreamed horrifying images of white tombs bigger than life stacked one upon the other, closing in on him.

As the skies darkened and a single ray of moonlight shone throughout the messy room, Harry Potter was no longer the Boy Who Lived. He no longer had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was just a boy, barely seventeen, with a jagged edged scar on his forehead dreaming of things missed and impossible both.

(TBC)