Chapter 1: Never Again

A/N: This is my first ever fanfiction. Please don't judge too hard. I do enjoy constructive criticism. I'd appreciate constructive criticism. I will stick mainly to canon. I make a few minor/major changes. I will try to do different POVs because Queen Jo only used Harry's. I would've liked to see Ron's take on things. I am American but I will try to use British words and food. Don't I have to do a disclaimer of some sort?

WARNING: There is swearing.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't be writing this. Obviously. All of the characters belong to Queen Jo (aka J.K. Rowling). I've only written the plot of this particular story. Anyway, my name isn't Joanne, it's Nyla. So… er, yeah. Or maybe… J.K. Rowling wrote fanfiction under a different name to let us know what happened before Harry was born (Marauders Era), after the war, and the next gen. Ya never know, mate. (Please don't sue. I'm not worth the time and effort.)

As the trio walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, they saw broken windows, shattered glass, scorch marks on walls, cracked stone, cracked bricks, and spilled blood from both sides. When they reached the Fat Lady, she clapped and said:

"Password?" Ron groaned.

"Let us in! We just fought in a bloody battle for Merlin's sake," Ron exclaimed.

"Merlin, calm your tits. It's my job," she stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You will let us in otherwise I will force you open," Hermione said dangerously.

"Impossible," the Fat Lady said while rolling her eyes. She seemed to be enjoying this "playful" banter.

"This isn't a game F…" Harry said almost saying Fat Lady. He'd been calling her that since his first year at Hogwarts. "Sorry, never did catch your name."

"Esmeralda," she stated rather matter-of-factly.

"Well, Esmeralda, this isn't a game. Hermione here," he said gesturing towards her, "is the brightest witch of her age and is probably able to force you open."

"Fine. Fine. Come in," she said as she swung open. "Feisty lot, you are," she muttered.

"Mate," Ron said, "you look like hell."

"Ha ha-bloody-ha. So do you. I just want to sleep," Harry said tiredly. He had to admit, he probably did look like hell. He either had Wrackspurts—he owed Luna and Neville a thank you, as a matter of fact, he owed Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley Bill, Fluer, George, Ron, and Ginny a thank you. Ginny… his brain hurt from thinking and his heart hurt from thinking about her—or he was going to collapse of exhaustion. They made their way to the seventh year boy's dormitories and Harry spotted the bed that would've been his. He didn't bother with taking his trainers off; he collapsed in his bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

"Sleep well, Harry, you deserve it," he heard Hermione's voice say as she kissed his forehead. That was the last thing he heard before the waves of sleep washed over him.

He woke up sitting bolt up drenched in sweat. He shook his head as he tried to erase the memories of his nightmare. He realized that someone took off his trainers. He slipped out bed stealthily (There were a lot of extra beds. Mr and Mrs Weasley occupied one, Bill and Fleur in another, Ron and Hermione in one, and Charlie, Percy, George, Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus had their own) and silently tiptoed to the bathroom. Harry jumped as he looked in the mirror. He was covered in dirt, grass, mud; one of the lenses on his glasses was cracked; his hair was matted and had dirt and leaves in it and it was to his shoulder (A/N: Much like it was in movie GoF, except it has shit in it); he ached all over; he was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted; and his clothes were torn and bloodied. He cast Muffilato on the door and stripped.

"Holy shit!" he gasped in surprise. There was a big lightning bolt-shaped scar over his heart that was surrounded by blackness. Harry took a nice long warm shower. The water stung on his cuts but it felt good all the while. He got out, put a towel around his waist and called Kreacher. Crack!

"Master Harry," greeted Kreacher as he bowed, his long nose touching the ground. "Master Harry, what has happened to your chest?"

"Hello Kreacher," Harry said pleasantly. "It doesn't matter. Could you please bring a change of clothes for me, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville, and the rest of Weasleys?"

"Yes Master Harry."

"And I would be grateful if you don't mention this to anyone."

"Of course, Master."

"Thank you." Crack! Crack! Kreacher reappeared with a pile of neatly folded clothes.

"Krecher has brought clothes for everyone, Master Harry," he said as he laid the clothes carefully on the floor.

"Thank you very much, Kreacher. You can go…er, help Madam Pomfrey if you'd like." Crack! Harry sorted the clothes and put his own on. Next, he laid down everyone's clothes on their respective beds. He kissed Hermione and Ginny on the forehead and saw a smile tug at their lips. Then, he carefully tip-toed silently out of the room and creeped through the portrait hole.

"I'm sorry Harry; I was just doing my job," Esmeralda said.

"No problem, I understand," Harry said as he gave a small smile and nodded.

A/N: Hello lovelies. This is a short chapter because it's just the beginning. They will get longer.

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