Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters in the series and I am not making any money out of this.

A Summer Night

Harry was flat on his back on his back, staring looking wearily around the room. Currently he was counting the number of stains that were scattered among the white washed ceiling. Harry could only imagine what happened to cause them; maybe Dudley was responsible? Or was it just some type of mould? Not that he cared much.

Harry pulled the blankets tightly around him; it was always cold in his room no matter the temperature outside. Curiously, this summer didn't even marginally resemble the dry, boiling hot weather of the previous year. It has been raining for the last three weeks and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. As far as Harry was concerned, the weather reflected his mood perfectly. However it was late at night and the raindrops on his window and the roof of the house were driving his insane. Dub, dub, dub. The sound was keeping him awake, just like every other night since he came back from school. Somehow Harry connected the rhythmic drumming with a sound of a heartbeat, strong and seemingly never ending. But as rain the heart will stop sooner or later for every living creature, even Voldemort.

Harry felt like spewing up, no matter what the topic of his thought was, it always ended up linking itself with either Voldemort or perhaps even more painfully – Sirius. Everything in Harry's life involved Voldemort in some way: Harry's presence in the Dudley household, his life at Hogwarts, his dreams and even the expectations of him. It wasn't really all that surprising that his sole purpose in life was to get rid of Voldemort or to die trying.

'So much for the little, pleasant fantasy of settling down somewhere and starting a peaceful family.' Harry muttered.

Come to think of it, he couldn't even have a girlfriend, forget about kids. Who would be stupid enough to risk that kind of relationship with Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's worst headache? That would mean an assured place on the very top of Voldemort's 'People to Murder' list. No girlfriend, no children, no family. But probably he won't survive until his eighteenth birthday, so that shouldn't matter.

Hell Hermione and Ron, shouldn't even go near him, he is like a trouble magnet. The only reason he could think of that they are still friends with him was that they didn't want to hurt his feelings. Not that they could, his feelings were hurt so many times he was often afraid he would go crazy. Or was he already crazy? At least it couldn't get any worse.

Maybe he shouldn't have come to Hogwarts at all? Harry smirked recounting his experiences before he had received the news he was a wizard, life was certainly a lot less complicated back then. His parent's died in a car crash, unfortunate, but it was still an accident. No Mad Man trying to constantly kill Harry, what a relief. No doubt some day, a power hungry Death Eater would have come and finished off the the-boy-who-lived anyway. A quick stab in the back, a painless curse, an attempt to make it look like an accident if Harry was lucky enough. And then the Wizarding World wouldn't have to deal with Voldemort; Cedric would be alive and happy. He would be playing Quidditch professionally and most likely be engaged, if not married to Cho. Sirius would still be alive, if not for Harry.

Harry bolted up right so he was sitting on his bed, he felt like kicking himself.

'Don't go there Harry, just don't.' he whispered to himself and forced himself to think of anything else that came into his head

Rats, this was the first thing that came into his mind. Rodent creatures, they are often associated with traitors. Traitor, that stuck a nerve. Wormtail, the traitor that betrayed Harry's parents and Sirius, the traitor who helped Voldemort come back to power. It was definitely not working, but it proved the theory that everything in Harry's head was connected to Voldemort. Harry's stomach clenched, he curled himself into a ball. He is not going to cry, not today, he had cried enough, it was a completely pointless thing to do, tears never helped anyone. The rain outside increased, the wind howled shaking the glass windows. Rats. Harry remembered how Sirius ate rats when he lived in Hogsmeade, just so he could be close to his godson. He made so many sacrifices, so few that Harry returned. The night in the ministry, he was so stupid. If he had though about what he was doing, if he had listened to Hermione, if he had practiced Occumancy like he was meant to. So many ifs. Perhaps none of them would have had to go to the Ministry at all, none of them would have needed saving.

Stupid, selfish, stuck-up brat, that's what you are Harry. Snape was right; he was the only one who saw the truth. The others were to bent on blinding themselves with the golden 'the-boy-who-lived' image. No one bothered to see the reckless kid who hid behind. Harry was only supposed to be a hero, nothing else. Heroes meant to be tall, muscular; they are not supposed to wear hideous glasses. Heroes are not supposed to sit and wail in misery like he was doing now. Heroes are meant to save the world. He was the hero everyone trusts him to be; he is a failure.

The prophecy? He really hated that word, this was the word that decided weather he could live a normal life or not. In truth he didn't care. With their saviour a fifteen-year-old kid who is hopeless at everything that actually matters, they might as well start bowing to the Dark Lord right now. No doubt Dumbledore had already arranged Harry's funeral several years ago, everyone who has some brains must realize there is no way he could win.

Death. Itself was a fascinating issue to Harry; he had certainly considered it a number of times over the years. He definitely accepted it in most of his meetings with Voldemort. God, for all it mattered Harry could just go and kill him self right now. Might be less painful, he wasn't very keen on several Crutiatuses and other torture methods before his death, quick and painless death was much more appealing. Harry jumped slightly at the sound of thunder and lightning flashing outside. He was quite delighted with the idea of suicide, definitely an easier way out than completing the prophecy.

But how? The was no knife to cut his wrists, he didn't have a rope to hang himself, there was nothing to attach it to anyway, the window wasn't high enough to ensure a certain death if he jumped out, he didn't have the patience to starve himself, there were no poisons in his reach. It was as if someone had deliberately made sure he couldn't harm himself.

Harry paused, thinking if he should give it up and live his death to Voldemort. It seemed fate wanted him to live a little longer. Some one wanted dreadfully badly to torture Harry before death.

'Just get to sleep.' Harry urged himself

In reality there was no way he could bring himself to lie down. The weather outside did not provide great sleeping conditions and more importantly he already knew what sort of dreams he will have if he actually managed to make it to the dream world. Sirius falling through the veil, Cedric dead on the ground, nameless Muggles sobbing in pain, Avada Kevadra being cast.

Harry smirked darkly, he was an idiot, but after living with Muggles most of his life, he wouldn't really think of magical ways of committing suicide. Where was his wand? Harry realized all his things were down stairs in the cupboard where Harry had left them. All he had to do was to go downstairs and get it. How funny would it be to do something Voldemort failed to and with Voldemort's trademark curse? Harry wondered what death would be like, no reason why he wouldn't find out.

Harry sighed; he hadn't been out of his room (apart from the bathroom two or three times each day) since he came for the summer break. The room probably stank of his sweat for a while now, but he didn't notice it all that much. Slowly he stretched out his legs and arms, he stood up shivering. He would much rather be in the warm blankets back his bed. Harry froze for a second listening to his cousin's snores from the room next to Harry's. Determined about his decision Harry crept down the stairs carefully avoiding the creaking step. He could feel his heart pumping with adrenaline as he reached out to unlock the door of the cupboard. It slid open silently.

Harry grinned lightly at the sight of his school trunk, he touched the slightly scratched Hogwarts crest on it and closed his eyes. He will miss Hogwarts, to a certain extend. He then carefully reached out to open the trunk itself, it was full if books, clothing, school equipment and a few of his private things. The wand must be somewhere at the bottom. He sat down rummaging though his belongings; he threw everything on the ground so soon there was a large pile of things around him.

One particular item caught his eye. He picked up a small red leather bound book, on the front it had the words 'James and Lily Potter' written on it in shiny golden letters. Harry sighed and hastily opened the album. He flipped the pages quickly not particularly concentrating. He only jerked up when he saw the photo of his parents wedding. Harry couldn't help but smile as his mother waved at him happily. James was hugging her, their rings clearly visible on their fingers. Behind them stood Remus and Sirius leaning on each other; slightly drunk, but laughing nevertheless.

For the first time Harry thought how carefree they appeared. Not anything like the stressed, grief stricken peoples that usually surrounded Harry. Half-heartily he wished to go back in time, visit those happy people in photos, just get to know his parents. Surely it was obvious, life was better then, no Voldemort to fight, no other Evil Wizard.

Harry shook his head, he was so slow sometimes, and of-course there was Voldemort. He was probably threatening the Wizarding World before Harry's parents started school, certainly during their wedding. Somehow they managed to forget about Voldemort and enjoy life. But had they known that the Dark Lord was after them, had they realised what their son might have to do one day?

Harry couldn't stare at the photo any more, he moved slightly so he could lean against the wall, ignoring the shivers the cold bricks send up and down his spine. He flipped the page, frowning at the confused mixture of thoughts in his mind. He stared at a much younger self, lying on his mother's lap. The younger Harry was sleeping peacefully wrapped in a sky blue blanket, while Lily taking a moment to rest closed her eyes.

Harry held his breath, for the second time in less then an hour he felt like crying, this time the tears were not of grief, but of loss of innocence. Harry couldn't take his eyes away from Lily; she looked so tranquil, in her little world where nothing could go wrong. Harry desperately wanted to join her in that world without Voldemort haunting his every step.

The little Harry stirred in his sleep; Harry smiled lightly. That's what was he once, innocent of all wrongs and sins. This picture proved, there was innocence in every war, Harry's parents continued to with their lives no matter what happened.

Suddenly Harry wanted to live, he deserved it. He deserved to see his children live and grow. So did Ron, Hermione, Ginny and everyone else. Harry's childhood might have been taken from him; he cannot let it happen to others. If he was the one who can stop Voldemort, then so be it. He will try, no matter the prize he might have to pay for peace it was worth it.

Harry got up taking the album with him, but leaving the wand still somewhere at the bottom of his trunk. A little sleepily he walked up the stairs. Collapsing on his bed he quickly felt asleep. In the morning, he woke up early to write a letter to his friends. A real one, not just some piece of scrap paper full of lies. He heard a gentle tap on the window, Hedwig had returned from her hunt.

Opening the window he noticed the sunrise, it was one of those picture perfect views full of bright colours. In a few short hours the sky cleared of all clouds.

It finally stopped raining.

By Glittering Pearl, 2003 (revised 18/01/2005)