AN:/ Alright! This is my first story, and I don't know how it's going to turn out. I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head, so this will probably end up a shambles, but let's see where it takes us. The rating, whatever I set it as, is high as a precaution. I don't know how much input I'll have from friends, but any and all of it will be... teen, at the least.
Basically this sprung from the simple thought: What would it take to change Harry's life? So here we go! Disclaimer: Alright, everyone knows how this goes, I don't own Harry Potter; I don't own the song SING by MCR; and I most certainly don't own any recognisable muggle tech.
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Prologue
Harry Potter lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell lightly, and he didn't look up as a white owl rustled in its cage. He didn't take any notice, either, as his Uncle Vernon snorted in the considerably larger room down the hall.
In other words, Harry Potter was asleep.
However, as the first rays of light began shining on the cookie-cutter houses that made Privet Drive, he jerked awake, his eyes wild, before slumping back down on the bed, a pained look crossing his face.
The veil had haunted his dreams again.
Every night as he fell asleep he would once again visit the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't always the same dream.
Sometimes he would see Hermione, her hair splayed around her head as she lay on the ground, Dolohov laughing in the background.
Sometimes it was Ron, the memory strands wrapping around his arms in a tight embrace, before moving up and over him, smothering him, falling away and leaving nothing left.
Occasionally it was a full-out fire fight, with Tonks falling to Bellatrix; Remus being slain by Wormtail; Kingsley and Moody being taken out by a full squad of Death Eaters; even Dumbledore, heroic leader of the light, being extinguished with a well-aimed curse from Voldemort.
But it always came back to the veil.
Harry sighed, before getting up and taking stock of his surroundings. His room was almost exactly the same as it had been the previous year when Tonks had entered it; completely and utterly trashed.
There were a few minor alterations, however. In the corner lay a small, portable laptop that he'd managed to snag from the trash after Dudley had thrown it out in disgust, declaring it to be 'completely out-of-date.' After reconnecting some of the wires, the laptop was up and running, and Harry had an instant connection to the wide world.
And that had flipped his whole life around.
After taking a trip to Diagon Alley via the Knight Bus (an experience he was not keen to repeat), he had managed to obtain a Wizcard from Gringotts. After some careful questioning - What the hell is this thing‽ - he had managed to deduce that this worked similarly to a muggle credit card, and could in fact be used in the muggle world. After being assured that the interest his trust vault alone made in a day would be enough to cover a week-long shopping spree, he went a little nuts.
He had installed iTunes, and had downloaded any song he found that sounded vaguely interesting. He had then ordered an iPod Touch, and downloaded all the best rated apps.
Of course, almost immediately he was bored of them, and had decided to simply use it to listen to music while he worked.
Speaking of which...
He jumped off his bed, snagged his iPod and headphones from the desk and ran into the bathroom to shower, before rushing back to his room, having forgotten to pick up a towel. He quickly dressed in his new clothes (another wild spending spree, this time at an out of the way mall).
A tight black T-shirt went on, followed by a dark grey hoodie. He slipped into a dark blue pair of skinny jeans and fastened his Nike Vandal Hi-tops. He popped the headphones into his ears and smiled slightly as one of his favourite songs came on.
Sing it out
Boy you've got to see what tomorrow brings
Sing it out
Girl you've got to be what tomorrow needs
Yes, he did. Everyone always wanted him to be there for them when the going got tough. Well, if the going could get tough, so could he.
Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world
Sing it from the heart
Sing it till you're nuts
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Harry smiled slightly as he turned into the mall where he worked. He didn't hate anyone. Everyone just seemed to hate him. He could accept that, as long as they didn't seem surprised when he pulled that nice security rug out from under their feet, and let them fall onto the cold, harsh floor of reality.
Sing it for the deaf
Sing it for the blind
Sing about everyone that you left behind
He turned into the music store where he worked behind the counter, and smiled, nodding his head in a slight tribute to those he'd left behind.
Cedric. Sirius. His parents.
He looked up as he heard the door open, and sighed in frustration, taking out the ear buds and glaring at the person who had entered.
"What do you want," he asked vehemently. "I thought I told you already that I'm fine with living out the rest of my life and then going back."
"Oh, we know," the figure said. A long black cloak covered its body, and a dark hood obscured its face. "We just figured you could use a little help in doing that."
Harry frowned, before reaching into his pocket for his wand. It was then that he realised he'd left it on his bedside table in his rush that morning. He turned startled eyes to the cloaked figure, in time to see it raise its arm.
The sleeve of the cloak slipped down, revealing a feminine hand covered by a white glove. It made a strange, jerking movement, and Harry Potter flew across the room, smashing into a display of CDs and crashing to the ground. He did not get up.
The figure made another gesture, and Harry's body disappeared, along with the display stand and the wrecked CDs. It glanced around the room once, before exiting silently.
As it left the room, the figure vanished in a whirl of glittering dust.
