A/N: Blah blah, blah. I don't own Harry Potter or anything. You know that, I know that, and yet, I'm forced to write these stupid things. Enjoy the story and please Review! (THANKS TO EVERYONE THATS BEEN REVIEWING! IT MEANS A LOT!)I'm sorry this is so short. I'll try to get the next part by tomorrow since I have another half day..... I'm writing this as I go BTW so that is why it's taking so long...
Harry was running and he couldn't stop his legs even if he wanted to. His head was pounding from the pain in his scar. He ran past kids in their classes. He heard Sirius running after him as a dog. Harry ran forward. His head was suddenly feeling dizzy. He was going to faint. He heard voices all around him as he came to a sudden halt and he grabbed his head in pain. He saw all their faces and they grabbed his arm.
Again, he had flashbacks. He didn't even have to look up. He had thrown them all off without even moving. A huge red blast of light blinded them all and as though someone was shoving them, they were all thrown into the wall. Harry's head was reeling.
"Harry-" Hermoine said weakly. Harry looked up and although he didn't know it, everyone else did. Harry's body was healing. All his cuts were suddenly gone except for the scar that laid on his forehead.
"Why won't you people just leave me alone? All I wanted was to die." Harry's world swirled before his eyes and he fell to the ground.
Harry wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. A white room was all he saw. Harry suddenly jumped as someone else began talking.
"Hello Harry James Potter," the voice said. Harry spun around and only saw the white room. Harry shook his head and began rubbing it.
"Your loosing it Potter," it was the voice again. Harry was suddenly angry.
"Who are you," he asked. The voice began laughing. Harry was loosing his patience.
"I'm surprised. Your parents were much smarter. Maybe that was because they were perfect," Harry was balling up his fists in anger.
"All right. We can play this game Potter. You were going to try to kill yourself. Do you mind telling me why? Why, when everyone wishes they were you?" Harry was mad, but listening intently. He didn't speak.
"No?" the voice was mocking him slightly and Harry was in no mood to deal with this.
"Heroes are chosen. They do not wish to be heroes," Harry spoke to silence.
"Hm. Harry Potter, have you ever told anyone? Do you know that right now, there are little boys wishing they-themselves- were you and you, you Harry Potter, are wishing to be them. How very ironic this situation is. Harry Potter- do you happen to know what you are?" the voice asked. Harry didn't move, didn't speak.
"I am Harry Potter. I'm a boy. The Boy Who Lived," he responded. The voice laughed again.
"Right! That is the name everyone is accustomed to. But you are more then that Potter. Have you ever heard of the 'Prophecy of Life?' The prophecy which involves you more then anyone else?" the voice was curious. Harry was clueless.
"Ah yes, what a prophecy it is. Yet, I don't remember, in all the ways I've read, I don't remember a part were the Boy Who Lived tries to kill himself."
Harry was running and he couldn't stop his legs even if he wanted to. His head was pounding from the pain in his scar. He ran past kids in their classes. He heard Sirius running after him as a dog. Harry ran forward. His head was suddenly feeling dizzy. He was going to faint. He heard voices all around him as he came to a sudden halt and he grabbed his head in pain. He saw all their faces and they grabbed his arm.
Again, he had flashbacks. He didn't even have to look up. He had thrown them all off without even moving. A huge red blast of light blinded them all and as though someone was shoving them, they were all thrown into the wall. Harry's head was reeling.
"Harry-" Hermoine said weakly. Harry looked up and although he didn't know it, everyone else did. Harry's body was healing. All his cuts were suddenly gone except for the scar that laid on his forehead.
"Why won't you people just leave me alone? All I wanted was to die." Harry's world swirled before his eyes and he fell to the ground.
Harry wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. A white room was all he saw. Harry suddenly jumped as someone else began talking.
"Hello Harry James Potter," the voice said. Harry spun around and only saw the white room. Harry shook his head and began rubbing it.
"Your loosing it Potter," it was the voice again. Harry was suddenly angry.
"Who are you," he asked. The voice began laughing. Harry was loosing his patience.
"I'm surprised. Your parents were much smarter. Maybe that was because they were perfect," Harry was balling up his fists in anger.
"All right. We can play this game Potter. You were going to try to kill yourself. Do you mind telling me why? Why, when everyone wishes they were you?" Harry was mad, but listening intently. He didn't speak.
"No?" the voice was mocking him slightly and Harry was in no mood to deal with this.
"Heroes are chosen. They do not wish to be heroes," Harry spoke to silence.
"Hm. Harry Potter, have you ever told anyone? Do you know that right now, there are little boys wishing they-themselves- were you and you, you Harry Potter, are wishing to be them. How very ironic this situation is. Harry Potter- do you happen to know what you are?" the voice asked. Harry didn't move, didn't speak.
"I am Harry Potter. I'm a boy. The Boy Who Lived," he responded. The voice laughed again.
"Right! That is the name everyone is accustomed to. But you are more then that Potter. Have you ever heard of the 'Prophecy of Life?' The prophecy which involves you more then anyone else?" the voice was curious. Harry was clueless.
"Ah yes, what a prophecy it is. Yet, I don't remember, in all the ways I've read, I don't remember a part were the Boy Who Lived tries to kill himself."