In the spare room of number four Privet Drive, and still in bed, lay the famous Harry Potter. He was awake, but his mind was stuck on his newfound obsession of his own self worthlessness. It was all his fault. If he had never had lived through the Triwizard Cup or maybe even died in a fall during a Quiditch match, perhaps people such as Sirius wouldn't have had to die. His parents had died for him and now, as Harry's former father figure, Sirius had gone with them. Their deaths were all linked in the fact that they had all perished to save Harry.
But I'm not a great wizard! I can't accomplish amazing feats! Its all just luck whether I survive or not! Harry bounced out of bed and began to pace around the room. How am I supposed succeed where everyone else has failed? What do I have that they don't?! Harry pounded his fist onto his dresser. Nothing!
Number five Privet Drive, however, contained no sulking young wizard or anyone or anything for that matter. It was empty, its last inhabitants leaving to spend the rest of their retirement in the Caribbean. The house had been left empty for several weeks after their departure for sunnier days, but now, in the driveway of number five, was an enormous moving truck with the name Marco's Moving Co. stapled to its the sides.
Across the street and into number four's kitchen would show that the arrival had put the house into a state of excitement. For pressed against the front windowpanes were the noses of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, eagerly assessing their new neighbors to be.
"It was a shame the Walsteads had to go," Petunia tried to sigh to cover her excitement. "Good neighbors they were."
"Yes, a shame, a shame..." muttered Uncle Vernon still keeping his eyes pinned to the moving van doors.
Dudley, who was still at the table, began to pound on his plate in a chant of, "Breakfast, breakfast!
"Oh yes Dudders, in a minute." Petunia said without looking at him as she watched as though entranced as a couple muscular moving men climbed out and began unloading.
Dudley grimaced at his empty plate and then back to his entranced parents, muttering unhappily. He kept muttering until he noticed Harry standing sulkily in the doorway.
"Get my breakfast, Harry." Dudley commanded, sneering at him.
"Get it yourself fatty." Harry answered back, snapping out of his depressed state to tell off his cousin.
"Get Dudley his breakfast Harry or you'll be in your room all day!" Uncle Vernon bellowed over his shoulder at Harry. Harry did spend most of his day in his room, but he did enjoy taking a walk to the park every now and then and decided to listen to Uncle Vernon just incase he'd get the urge to go there later on during the day. Dudley just grinned as Harry moved to the stove to make breakfast for both of them.
"Ooooh!" squealed Aunt Petunia, "Look at some of the furniture and decorations they own! They look like they're straight from a museum!"
"They must've traveled all over the world!" Mr. Dursley said smiling, "We'll have to have them over for luncheon to welcome them over. They must have seen a lot of interesting things in their travels."
A green Ford drove into the driveway as they were looking on, sending the house into a frenzy of excitement.
"They're here!" Petunia said excitedly, almost hopping up and down in excitement as the family climbed out of the car.
"They have a daughter your age Dudley!" Vernon informed, looking over his shoulder to Dudley, except, Dudley wasn't there. Vernon found Dudley squeezed between him and Petunia at the window, surprising his parents, who were always surprised when Dudley was interested in anything other than his next meal.
"Oh," Dudley said staring out the window, "She's cute. I'll have to tell Piers that I'm having lunch with my family today."
"Oh this is wonderful!" Aunt Petunia exclaimed. "What a lovely family for my Dudders to be welcomed into!"
Uncle Vernon mentioned something about how they hadn't even talked to them yet and Harry almost gagged at the prospect of anyone seeing Dudley as more than the fat piece of lard he was. Harry also sent his deepest sympathy out to the poor girl, truly pitying her and her future confrontations with Dudley.
Harry was sitting on a swing at around lunch time, his relatives seemed so keen to make a good impression on their new neighbors that they hadn't just sent Harry to his room, but thrown him out of the house entirely. Harry hadn't really cared to meet them anyway; his mind was still tormented over last year's events and thoughts of the future.
Someday I'll have to face Him, Voldemort. Harry looked at the sky as he thought. Sirius died to save me and many other people have put their life on the line for me, but for what? Harry kicked at the dirt under his feet, sending dust billowing about. Can I ever be Voldemort's equal? An equal, when I always have to be rescued? He's the Dark Lord for goodness sakes! And I'm only Harry Potter!!! "I'm only HARRY POTTER!!!" Harry yelled out loud to some invisible interrogator.
Only someone more than this Harry Potter could ever defeat a Dark Lord.... Harry slumped in his swing just a little more. A little voice nagged at him inside his head with a far fetched idea in Harry's opinion, "Then become a someone more than this Harry Potter."
Maybe it was his lack of breakfast this morning, as Dudley had eaten both his own and Harry's, or maybe it was an effect of remaining depressed for too long, but whatever the reason, Harry took this idea into serious consideration. Sirius died for me, believing I was worth it. Is sulking here going to make his death count?
Harry's more practical side stepped in here. And how do you suppose you can ever raise your assets and strengths to the levels of which Voldemort possesses?
Well how far apart are they really? Harry's other voice seemed to have gone a little off the deep end on this one... Seriously, list his assets in comparison to yours! They can't be that far off! And if they are, then at least you know where exactly you're lacking.
Harry picked a stick up from underneath the nearby slide and drew a chart in the dry dirt under his feet. He put his name on top of one column and Voldemort's on the other. Let's see, Voldemort has lots of followers willing to bend to his every whim... Harry thought as he drew "Death Eaters" into the dirt under Voldemort's name. And he's a Parselmouth and has a giant snake. Harry put that down in the dirt as well. He has connections and spies everywhere. He's just about the most powerful wizard ever. He's mastered Oclumency and Legilimens. He can kill countless numbers of wizards and muggles with his killing curse. Just about the whole wizarding world is terrified of him. Harry finished with putting the words "scary" under the last part of the list.
Though his intention was to view Voldemort as less intimidating, the impressive list he had generated only made him feel more pessimistic about his chances of survival this next school year. You haven't written your own list! That little voice was determined to get the better of Harry, and Harry was now sure that skipping breakfast had been a very foolish thing to do.
Well what do I have? Harry thought, staring at the chart and then to clouds above him. I have friends, but I don't want to have to use them. I'm good at Quiditch, but I really doubt Voldemort is ever going to challenge me to a quiditch match to determine who lives or dies. Harry's list was looking very sorry indeed; "friends" and "quiditch" seemed to almost quiver in fear next to "murderer" and "Death Eaters".
Harry then remembered something Dumbledore had told him once before. "...to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us protection forever." But Voldemort fixed that! Harry thought sadly, adding it to Voldemort's list of assets. It no longer hurts him to touch me, Harry's insides squirmed as he remembered the night Voldemort was reborn and Cedric died. But the little voice changed into that of Dumbledore yet again, "...the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength." Harry remembered Dumbledore saying something about how Voldemort couldn't possess him as he had tried to last year as Harry's heart was too full of love for something as impure as Voldemort to possess. It may protect me, Harry thought, But losing ones we loved hurts more than its worth to have.
Harry grudgingly scratched out "love" under his name, wondering how terribly sappy it must sound to have it as an asset. His assets, Harry realized, were few and weak against Voldemort's. He had another year ahead of him, and this year he must spend it in evening up the score he decided, but the question was, how?
Harry was about to begin onto another tangent of thought when a real voice spoke in his ear to ask, "Whatcha doin'?"
