Hi there Fanfiction readers! This is the first HP fanfic I've actually managed to post, so please bear with me. That being said, I would greatly appreciate it if you would critique my writing, (seriously, don't hold back just because I'm new) or just review for any other reason. Here goes... The first chapter...

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters that I make up, everything from the books belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers, etc.

Bear in mind that although the first chapter is uneventful, the story gets better farther along.


Chapter One

Harry's eyes were weary and filled with partially disguised grief as he gazed out the window of the moving Hogwarts Express, not bothering to acknowledge Ron and Hermione's futile attempts at talking and ignoring their worried glances in his direction.

He was aware of them, but he chose to ignore them, lost in thoughts and painful memories instead. It was immediately after fifth year, and he would be returning to Number 4 Privet Dr. to spend his summer and birthday alone in a tiny, cluttered bedroom.

The landscape was slowly changing back to rural england, reminding Harry further that he was going to return to the Dursleys'. He sighed wearily, fogging up the window with mist, and for one horrible moment, he was reminded of the way Sirius' breath clouded the chilly air when he was panting excitedly in his dog form from running around during the christmas holidays.

As soon as he thought about his godfather, the pain in him was tangible in a sharp, throbbing ache, as though he had been kicked in the chest. Harry tried fruitlessly to tear his thoughts away from the animagus, his thoughts automatically turning back to the subject and emotion coupled with it that he kept trying so hard to not think about.

The Department of Mysteries.

And a terrible guilt.

Because it had been he, Harry, that had been tricked by Voldemort's lies. He had listened to his dream from Voldemort and the vile old house-elf Kreacher and had gotten Sirius killed. Sirius. His godfather and the last semblance of a real family he had.

Harry had been so trapped in his thoughts that he only noticed Hermione trying to get his attention when she was almost yelling. "...Harry? HARRY?" finally, he realised that she was talking to him. "Huh? Oh. Sorry Hermione. What were you saying?" he asked quietly. "The train's stopped, we're at the station." she said hesitantly. Harry nodded silently, picking up his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage so that they could exit into the crowded station.

The Weasleys were already waiting for Ron, waving at the red-haired boy from across the many people's heads. Harry followed slightly behind his two friends, smiling slightly when they welcomed him back with hugs and slaps on the back. Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley ran over to Hermione and him, wrapping them in a bone-crushing embrace. Finally, she let them go and Harry took a deep breath of air.

"I'm so sorry that we can't let you stay with us this summer, Dumbledore says it would be too dangerous. But promise to owl us dear, alright?" Mrs. Weasley looked anxious, patting Harry's cheek gently. Mainly to make her stop being so worried, he agreed and smiled weakly. "Be sure and tell us if those muggles mistreat you, you hear? Hang in there, Harry. And Hermione? Take care, sweetie. Have fun on your trip to america." Hermione beamed at Mrs. Weasley, answering her happily. However, Harry had noticed the large, impatient-looking muggle man standing just inside the barrier, tapping his foot. His heart sank.

"Um, I've got to go, guys. Er, see you, I guess..." Hermione suddenly leapt upon him with a tight hug, whispering in his ear. "Are you sure you'll be alright, Harry?" she asked gently. "I'll be fine, don't worry." he murmured. She pulled back and studied his face, and Harry was shocked to see tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

Ron came up and slapped Harry on the shoulder gently. "He'll be okay, 'Mione. Harry's tough." he said with a weak grin, giving his best friend a man-hug and waving along with his family and Hermione as Harry walked away, dragging his heavy trunk behind him. "You be sure to owl us once a week, Harry, or I'll have to steal Ron's broomstick and come to get you!" Hermione called, half-joking and half serious.

Harry smiled a genuine smile for a split second as he saw the way that Ron's hand was resting on her shoulder, until he remembered his Uncle standing impatiently by the barrier. Uncle Vernon grunted as way of greeting and walked back to the car, not bothering to see if Harry was following. 'Well,' thought Harry darkly as he put his trunk in the seat beside him, 'at least Hedwig isn't here yet, so she'll get a few more hours of freedom'.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Immediately after he got up the next morning, Aunt Petunia put Harry to work. First up on the list was 'Weed out flower beds'. And so, Harry, having no gardening gloves, began pulling up the weeds with his bare hands. Thorns pricked his hands until they bled, but Harry relished the work, welcoming it as a way to ignore his grief.

When he had barely started, however, a cold wind picked up and rain began to come down. Soon, he was soaked to the skin, bleeding from innumerable thorn scratches on his hands, and shivering uncontrollably, but he continued working, knowing that his Aunt and Uncle would never excuse him from chores for a mere thing like a small tropical storm.

After a while, he sat back for a quick rest, rubbing his hands together to try to warm them. It had stopped raining and was now blowing a cold wind against Harry, making him even colder, as though his shirt was freezing to his skin. As he was about to continue his work, something in one of Mrs.-next-door's bushes caught his eye.

At first, he wasn't sure he'd actually seen it (after all, the cold wind didn't help his vision much) but then he was sure. There was a pair of glimmering, forest-green eyes peering out of the hedge at him. Harry started and slipped on the wet grass, landing on his back in a puddle of mud. For a second, the wind was knocked out of him, which started up a fit of rough coughs.

When he finally was able to look again, nothing was there. With a rush of relief, he remembered an almost identical happening when he was twelve, and that time, it was Dobby the house-elf. But then he stopped his relieved sigh.

Those were definitely not the eyes of a house-elf, and though they were very similar, he felt that they weren't exactly human either. Harry sighed he got up to go inside, knowing that he should tell someone about it. But then he stopped. He shook his head, 'I probably just imagined the whole thing because of this stupid rain...' he thought to himself, 'or maybe it was just one of Mrs. Figg's cats.' but somehow, he wasn't so sure...


So, what did you think? If Harry wasn't just imagining it, what do you think was in the bush? Ain't that little review button just adorable? It's just calling out to you... 'Click me... Clickme...' Okay, so maybe it isn't. But please review? (hang in there if you didn't like it, I promise it gets more interesting.)
I'll try to post the next chapter before Sunday, but reviews would definitely motivate me to write faster.