Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not J K Rowling, and thus, I did not create the Harry Potter books. Got it?

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…action of the wizard is previewed in the eyes before taking action. It is a good quality of an auror to never break contact with the opponent's eyes, even in the most desperate situations. Some experienced duelists, such as Shaw N. McShaw of the WRL (Wizard Reinforce League), 1879-1995, discovered a clever trick to fool an enemy, known to the modern day auror as "the McShaw Juke".

To perform the juke, a fake wand is needed. Keep your real wand in your opposite hand, preferably under the hem of the robes, where it can keep from catching the eyes of your opponent. Throw your opponent off guard by yelling out an incantation with the fake wand, and when they dodge it or put up defenses, use this time to take out your real wand from your robes and strike them down when they least expect it.

To attempt "the McShaw Juke", a complicated wrist movement is needed, which requires the knowledge of…

"Ow!" Harry threw a hand to his shoulder, surprised at the unexpected prick of pain. Hedwig was sitting at the edge of his desk, staring at Harry impatiently. Harry was so absorbed in his text book that he didn't even notice Hedwig fly into his room, equipped with a string of letters tied to her legs.

"Sorry, girl," he whispered, relieving the snow owl of the letters as quickly as he could in order to prevent another snap of the beak, "didn't see you there." He was careful to be extra quiet, hoping his uncle didn't hear him yelling. He could do without another one of those incidents this summer.

Satisfied, Hedwig was rewarded with a long drink and some biscuits that Harry brought home before term ended, especially for her. With a long summer ahead of him, he knew that he would need Hedwig for all the dozens of letters he expected from his friends.

But as much as Harry would have loved to have heard from his friends last summer as he was this, Harry just couldn't help but feel annoyed with all the letters that were being sent to him day in and day out. It wasn't as if they were giving him any useful information. It was all pity, the one thing that Harry hated above all else. Well, except for maybe Malfoy, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange or Snape, of course.

Harry threw the letters aside, not even bothering to open them. He could already tell one was from Ron and the other from Lupin; he didn't even bother looking at the others, expecting them to be from either Hagrid or Hermione. Typical he'd be getting all these letters when he least needed them, he thought, focusing back onto his book, entitled, "101 Qualities Needed to Become an Great Auror" by Sadae Sufasa.

How many times did he have to tell them? He's fine! Why do they keep worrying about him? It's as if they think he'll do something stupid if left unattended for too long… like some little boy.

Remember, Harry, don't go too far off your property, you can't be too careful.

Lupin, with one of his one hundred "you can't be too careful" letters.

We're doing everything we can to get you out of there, believe me. Dad's been fighting with Dumbledore to get you to come and stay, but so far, he hasn't budged. We'll be getting you out any day now, I reckon.

Dumbledore doesn't seem to give a damn, does he, Ron? And it seemed that in every letter of Ron's, he would mention that 'any day now' Harry would be free of the Dursleys. Would that day ever come?

Harry, I know it must be hard for you, but you mustn't do anything to draw attention to yourself. I promised Dumbledore not to give out information in letters, but let's just say You-Know-Who is becoming more widely known. Please be careful, Harry.

'Spare me the lectures, Hermione', Harry would think, before thrusting the letter into his garbage can. That's all she had to offer anymore.

Don't worry, Harry, they're trying to get you out of there as soon as they can. All you have to do is be patient, that's all.

Whatever, Hagrid. He wasn't the one stuck at the Dursely's, having, once again, information kept from him. How could they expect him to be patient?

But, of course, it was for his 'protection'.

And what he hated, more than anything else, was that Sirius was never mentioned in his letters. Not at all… as if recognizing Sirius' death would lead Harry to do something 'unreasonable'. As if never mentioning his dead godfather would help Harry forget about what happened last June in the Department of Mysteries.

He could never forget.

And they knew. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Lupin, Dumbledore, the whole Order… they all knew, even if they deny it.

It was all his fault. The reason Sirius Black died was because of Harry and his actions. Harry and his stupid 'saving people thing'.

He could have listened to Hermione, who told him over and over again that day that it could be a trick. He could have knew that Kreacher was lying. Snape… he could have ran to him, told him before Umbridge found him in her office. He should have known Voldemort would not be able to get into the Ministry of Magic undetected. He should have listened for once in his life and learned Occlumency.

He should have remembered that mirror.

It was when he felt the searing pain in his knuckles that he recognized he hit the side of the desk with his fist. Even as he watched the blood pour down his hand after being pierced by a jagged piece of wood sticking out of the desk, he felt little pain.

It was the pain inside of him that was hurting.

And it hurt bad… worse than Harry ever remembered.

Feeling the tingle of warm tears upon his eyelids, Harry quickly dried his face. No… he couldn't think about it. He couldn't bare it.

He wanted to remember Sirius… he wanted to until the day he died. It would be an insult to his memory to forget, or to pretend their valuable time together never happened. His godfather was dead… and his godson, Harry, had loved him. He still did. But knowing that it was he who caused his death…

Harry would rather die than think on it for more than two seconds.

Thus, Harry turned furiously back to his auror book lying on his desk, accidentally smearing the edges with his own blood, which was still being ignored.

Reading… it was all Harry did for the two weeks of summer he was home. His room was littered with the remarkable amount of books he absorbed in so little time. After hearing about a Hogsmead Owl Post, Harry bought as many books about Defense Against the Dark Arts as Hedwig could carry. And all summer long, to escape thoughts about Sirius' death, this is what Harry did.

He read. Day in, day out, every hour of the day and late into the night. He was basically living off of bread and 3 hours a sleep a night. He dared not to go to sleep longer, in order to prevent dreams that he could feel on the borderline of his mind… dreams that would drive him crazy, if they occurred. Plus, dreaming was one of the things that linked himself to Voldemort strongest. And as for eating… let's just say, anything he put in his mouth made him want to puke it back up again.

Harry was sick. And he knew it. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he deserved it.

He was learning with remarkable speed, despite his sickness. He noticed, too, how much more easily he began to remember enchantments and incantations. It was strange… it was as if he had photographic memory that his Uncle Vernon always claimed having. When read, the information just popped into his head and stayed there.

Scary thing was, Harry yearned to read more. In fact, anything he could get his hands on would be suffice to fill his hunger for reading. Ever since he learned of his fate, he could think of nothing better to do than prepare. It was as if he was a robot, programmed to save the world.

But Harry was no hero, that was for sure. But if he really did want to believe this whole 'prophecy' crap, he would have to be prepared. Because by no means was he to be killed by Voldemort… oh no.

Not after all that he went through to stay alive.

Not after all his loved ones went through to see him alive.

Not after all those who died for him.

If Harry would have paid less attention to "101 Qualities Needed to Become an Great Auror" and more attention on his letters, he would have realized that on of the letters were from Dumbledore. Inside… a ticket out of his hell hole.

If only he would have noticed.

La la la la… review, if ya like, review if ya don't, yeah?

With love,

Ami