Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

Author's Note: This is going to be as close to canon as possible, with my ideas. I hope you find this enjoyable while calming the storm under your skins for the wait of the sixth book. If you find anything that is too far-fetched, or something that irks you, please let me know as to make this an enjoyable and non-time wasting experience for you. Enjoy!

Harry Potter and the Chariots of Light

Chapter 1

Contrary to last summer, this one was cold and wet. Harry Potter was lying on the floor of Number Four, Privet Drive; listening to the radio the merciless Dursleys gave him. It was, in fact, an old, broken radio from Dudley, which was repaired by Vernon Dursley as a, Welcome Home, Harry, if you will. Though it was scratchy at best, it worked. Harry figured it was bittersweet for Vernon to acknowledge his beloved nephew. It kept Harry in his room listening to the news, instead of down in the populace of the household. It also showed that… freak with the freaky eye that they were treating him right, like they always do, but to actually give his nephew something that worked. Now that was just a waste, and Vernon Dursley was not a wasteful man.

Harry knew it was for the sole purpose of pleasing Mad-Eye. It would have never happened had he not threatened the Dursleys. It didn't matter though; it kept Harry away from the Dursleys. Something that would always please Harry.

It was the beginning of July now, and it hadn't stopped raining since after two days of Harry's arrival. Instead of walking around the neighborhood as he did last year to soothe his worries, he had nothing to do except stay in his room. He usually laid on the floor; it was less lumpy than his bed, and just look at the ceiling. He always reflected on the past few years, but never of the past month. He would stop just before the Easter holidays of last year.

At first, he thought of the day the Dementors arrived. Particularly the part where Vernon grabbed him around the neck, preceding to throttle him. The part that interested Harry, however, was the part when it seemed his flesh burned Vernon. Almost like when Quirrel in First Year tried touching him. Was this the power Voldemort didn't have? Also, when the Dementors descended upon Dudley and himself, he called a spell out and his wand responded, when he wasn't even touching it. There was also no mention of that charge during his hearing. Did that mean that the Ministry couldn't pick up that magic, or that concerning the powerfulness of the Patronus Charm overshadowed a simple Lighting Charm?

Harry tried to perform the same thing again, but to no luck. His wand laid on the broken vanity in Harry's mirror, where Harry finally caught a sight of himself. His hair was stringy and greasy and his skin was pallid, with dark circles around his eyes. Harry closed his eyes with disgust on his face; wishing, thinking of what his face used to look like, willing himself to look like that once again. Then, upon opening his eyes, his mouth fell with surprise. There, staring back at him was a normal looking Harry. The possibilities just seemed to keep coming to him. Again and again, Harry changed his appearance. From an old man with abnormally bushy eyebrows, to a handsome playboy with lime green hair, yes, this definitely had its rewards.

That was a week ago, Harry realized. Three days ago, Harry opted to utilize his new ability. When all the Dursleys were asleep, he snuck some money out of Vernon's wallet, and crept his way out of the Dursley household. In the rain, he trudged along to the closest corner store, disguised as 'Barney' as he liked to call him. He was a stooped man with dirty gray hair and the bushiest eyebrows for miles. While a pained expression was always on his face, Harry was pleased with the way he looked and felt fit as a fiddle. Nervously, he made his way to the cheapest whiskey he could find. He figured that if he didn't like it, it wouldn't be that big of a waste of money. Without difficulty, Harry was back in his room, soaked to the bone and freezing, but not noticing with being so focused on his booty.

Harry wanted to find out what the big deal was. Why everyone wanted to drink, why Dudley and his gang were so proud of this feat, why people said it took them away from there problems. Harry screwed the top off and took a great big swig, only to spit it out all over. He was repulsed by the taste, but was now enjoying the warming his mouth was going over. He decided to take a smaller drink, which went down okay. He thoroughly enjoyed the warm sensation of the drink rolling down his tongue, spreading through all of his limbs. He took more and more drinks until the room was spinning and the bottle was bone dry. He was now thinking about Sirius, the one thing he tried not to think about. It wasn't too bad now; it was what Harry thought an outer body experience might be. He wasn't too sad about it; it just kept going over and over in his mind.

A pity he didn't discover his ability last year. Harry thought it could have saved him some sleep, for when Harry drank until he passed out, it was the greatest sleep he had. No dreams or nightmares, no visions or mind controlling, just black. Just how Harry liked it.

A week had now passed, and Harry got drunk every night now. He wasn't belligerent or loud, extremely sad or happy. He just thought about the end of each of his school years and thought about how unlucky he was to be alive. He didn't want to live anymore. He would never take his own life, oh no, he believed it was a coward's way. Even if he weren't a Gryffindor, he still would not take that route. Maybe he should go find Voldemort and tell him about the prophesy and have it done with right then and there. Harry always forgot about this conclusion the next day though. He now figured out how to do the wand thing after countless hours of trying while he was drunk, he did the Lighting Charm again. He didn't forget that, and proceeded to transfigure the night before bottle into flowers. He now had eight vases of flowers in his room. It now looked much cheerier than it should have been. He would not have an Order member or Aunt Petunia catch him with those bottles.

It looked like today the sun might peak through and Harry was already feeling the sensitivity to the light from last nights binge. Harry was reaching for the door handle as to go get breakfast when he heard loud talking going on between his favorite uncle and cousin.

"Dudley, I know you've stolen thirty pounds from my wallet!" Vernon bellowed.

"Dad, it wasn't me, it was the freak! He's framing me! Honest!" Dudley whimpered in the fake voice his parents could never deny.

"Your right, I never thought about that! He almost hoodwinked me into punishing my boy! I'm sorry Dud." Vernon said in a gruff voice, giving him a slap on his back.

Harry knew he would be getting it, and he heard Vernon trudge up the stairs. He focused on making his face back to normal, erasing all signs of a hangover from his visage.

"HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM ME!" Vernon yelled walking through Harry's door.

"Why Uncle, whatever do you mean?" Harry replied sarcastically.

"Why you-you-you, bastard! Stealing thirty pounds from me in my own house-" Vernon was cut off at this point by Harry replying:

"What would I do with it? I haven't left this house since I got here. Besides, I would never steal thirty pounds from my dear uncle," Harry said. It was partially true, he only stole twenty pounds from Vernon, and Dudley stole the other half. At this point Vernon took notice of all the flowers in his room.

"Where did all these flowers come from?" he asked with a twitch in his eye.

"My well-wishers. I'm sure you remember them. You know those people who waved off last month. Yeah, most are from that bloke with the funny looking eye," Harry improvised to great effect, watching the color drain rapidly from his uncle's face.

"Oh, and they are, er, pleased?" he questioned, pulling at his collar.

"Ecstatic," Harry replied.

"Well, urm, good, keep it that way," finished Vernon has he beat a hasty retreat.

Harry had successful snuck out again and got his bottle of whiskey. It didn't take much for Harry to lose his sobriety. After about two and a half shots, you could stick a fork in him and call him done. Harry was swaying back and forth on his bed, particularly sad. It was his birthday tonight, and he realized, he would get no letter from Sirius in congratulations.

He was currently humming a tune to himself, what, he did not know when some scraping across the floor perked his attentions. He squinted into the dark corner, trying to determine what interrupted his stupor.

"What is it Hedwig?" he slurred. He didn't realize Hedwig wasn't there. She had been missing for a week now, and while sober, he was worried. Just when he sat back, a man, a short balding man with yellow teeth and long fingernails and a silver hand in a battered black robe with the Dark Mark falling off the sleeve, sneered a man Harry had hate so pure for, he saw red.

"Well, Harry, glad to see your doing oh so well." The man sneered towards him.

"Pettigrew, you lying sneaky little bastard I'll kill you where you stand!" Harry said as he wobbled to his feet, only to stumble and hit his head on the corner of his vanity, sinking into the sweet darkness of sleep.

Author's Note: I hoped you enjoyed that. The chapters will be longer than this; I am hoping for at least 2,000 words a chapter. This was more for an introduction. It might take a while for the chapters to come out, pending on how many people like this. It will take long to ensure longer chapters and a well-written piece of work. Thank you for reading!