Chap. 1
Life at Number 4
Harry sat in his cramped room at number 4 Privet Drive. It had once been Dudley's and Harry couldn't understand how Dudley would've gotten into the room, much less lived into it. But at least he had a "room" and not a cupboard under the stairs. The last year had been quite tough. The prophecy was now known to Harry, but that didn't make his life any easier. He would wake up at night, scurrying for his wand, which was located on his bookshelf. He would whip it around the room and look at all the shadows. A couple of times he thought he saw a devilish shadow. He fired and managed to kill. a wall, twice. He had no idea what to do. He had written to Ron and Hermoine, but they seemed to be having too much fun for him to bother them. They had written back and said that it was jitters from their fifth year. It wasn't life changing, but life hurting. His life was going down a constant spiral. He hardly got any sleep. What was he to do? Pretend Vol-, I mean He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Named was not back and thriving. That he was cowering because he couldn't win. Harry had to wake up out of dreaded type of coma. The dreams he had were strange. They all concerned him and Voldemort fighting each other in the middle of a big ring. A huge crowd roared above them. The killings were like a sport. They both looked at each other. Harry couldn't keep himself from staring at Voldemort's deep evil eyes, which seemed to pierce through Harry's body, almost watching his every move. He had no idea so many people were there. There seemed to be a long stretch of hall, which was completely full of people. Harry was getting peer pressure from Ron, who was booing Voldemort and Hermoine who was sitting alone writing nasty thing about the Dark Lord and they were being read aloud by Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Harry had to concentrate on the match. A whistle blew and AVADA KEDARVA, the match was over. Harry lie there on the floor, thrown back by his spell. Everyone looked at the dead body of Lord Voldemort. There seemed to be a black shroud around his face, which Harry assumed was a veil. He gently went down to look at the body and pulled up the veil. Harry was awestruck by what he saw. He was staring at his James Potter, his father, dead and leaking ooze from his body. Harry couldn't believe he had killed his father. He started to get up and the force of his crying let his disheveled body back down to the ground. The body started to shake and seizure. Harry looked at the body in a state of shock and a surge of anger. The body got up and looked over at Harry. "Harry, why did you kill me?" his dead father said.
Harry awoke shaken by the dream, the same dream every night for 2 solid months. It never changed, yet the dream was always new to him. He had to get his mind on school, his friends and the last 2 years of school. But for some reason, the dream ruled him night and die. Even the Dursleys were shocked when he asked to stay upstairs in his room and have his food brought. They were indeed shocked, but Vernon had some things to say. "Why must we slave to you, you little freak?" Vernon asked impatiently. "Because then you won't see my face" Harry replied and then Vernon smiled. No more seeing that bloody scar. Harry was happy that his uncle and aunt understood him a tiny bit. They didn't want to see him and he didn't want to see them. He occupied his time by looking at his family scrapbook and a special one full of pictures of Sirius, which was given to him by Lupin. Sirius had hoped to give it Harry personally, but since his death, it seemed out of the question. Harry stilled wondered sometimes whether Sirius was really dead or he was in hiding again after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. He still looked at the pictures and wished his godfather was there to get him out of there.
Harry, two weeks later, got a message from Ron. Ron asked him to go with him and the Weasleys to the home of the Arthur's uncle and aunt, Claudette and Kafern. Harry read it over and he was to meet at a muggle place called "the mall" and they would take him to the house. Harry was enthusiastic, but the nearest mall was 2 miles away. How will he get there?
Life at Number 4
Harry sat in his cramped room at number 4 Privet Drive. It had once been Dudley's and Harry couldn't understand how Dudley would've gotten into the room, much less lived into it. But at least he had a "room" and not a cupboard under the stairs. The last year had been quite tough. The prophecy was now known to Harry, but that didn't make his life any easier. He would wake up at night, scurrying for his wand, which was located on his bookshelf. He would whip it around the room and look at all the shadows. A couple of times he thought he saw a devilish shadow. He fired and managed to kill. a wall, twice. He had no idea what to do. He had written to Ron and Hermoine, but they seemed to be having too much fun for him to bother them. They had written back and said that it was jitters from their fifth year. It wasn't life changing, but life hurting. His life was going down a constant spiral. He hardly got any sleep. What was he to do? Pretend Vol-, I mean He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Named was not back and thriving. That he was cowering because he couldn't win. Harry had to wake up out of dreaded type of coma. The dreams he had were strange. They all concerned him and Voldemort fighting each other in the middle of a big ring. A huge crowd roared above them. The killings were like a sport. They both looked at each other. Harry couldn't keep himself from staring at Voldemort's deep evil eyes, which seemed to pierce through Harry's body, almost watching his every move. He had no idea so many people were there. There seemed to be a long stretch of hall, which was completely full of people. Harry was getting peer pressure from Ron, who was booing Voldemort and Hermoine who was sitting alone writing nasty thing about the Dark Lord and they were being read aloud by Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Harry had to concentrate on the match. A whistle blew and AVADA KEDARVA, the match was over. Harry lie there on the floor, thrown back by his spell. Everyone looked at the dead body of Lord Voldemort. There seemed to be a black shroud around his face, which Harry assumed was a veil. He gently went down to look at the body and pulled up the veil. Harry was awestruck by what he saw. He was staring at his James Potter, his father, dead and leaking ooze from his body. Harry couldn't believe he had killed his father. He started to get up and the force of his crying let his disheveled body back down to the ground. The body started to shake and seizure. Harry looked at the body in a state of shock and a surge of anger. The body got up and looked over at Harry. "Harry, why did you kill me?" his dead father said.
Harry awoke shaken by the dream, the same dream every night for 2 solid months. It never changed, yet the dream was always new to him. He had to get his mind on school, his friends and the last 2 years of school. But for some reason, the dream ruled him night and die. Even the Dursleys were shocked when he asked to stay upstairs in his room and have his food brought. They were indeed shocked, but Vernon had some things to say. "Why must we slave to you, you little freak?" Vernon asked impatiently. "Because then you won't see my face" Harry replied and then Vernon smiled. No more seeing that bloody scar. Harry was happy that his uncle and aunt understood him a tiny bit. They didn't want to see him and he didn't want to see them. He occupied his time by looking at his family scrapbook and a special one full of pictures of Sirius, which was given to him by Lupin. Sirius had hoped to give it Harry personally, but since his death, it seemed out of the question. Harry stilled wondered sometimes whether Sirius was really dead or he was in hiding again after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. He still looked at the pictures and wished his godfather was there to get him out of there.
Harry, two weeks later, got a message from Ron. Ron asked him to go with him and the Weasleys to the home of the Arthur's uncle and aunt, Claudette and Kafern. Harry read it over and he was to meet at a muggle place called "the mall" and they would take him to the house. Harry was enthusiastic, but the nearest mall was 2 miles away. How will he get there?