Well, it's about high time I finally post a story on here. My friend Courtney had wondered if I had, and I figured, "Right, why haven't I?"

There aren't enough fics of this one's kind, which is why I began writing it over the summer. I'm only gonna write more if there's reviews, because in this day and age, everything's an eye for an eye. ;)

This is gonna be a hard fic, mainly because I have nothing for my characters to do over the summer except play Quidditch, and they can't do that all day long. What else do wizards do? I know J.K. Rowling said there's some sort of Internet thing they have in the wizarding world, but she hasn't put it into her books yet, so I can't have them use whatever it is. Argh.

I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters. This is just a fanfic.

Prologue

Harry Potter lie on his bed, looking at the ceiling. He'd been in the same spot, in the same position, for more than an hour---since he woke up.

It was a beautiful morning. The birds were chirping without a break to be heard; the bright sun was sending rays of light to cover Harry's bedspread. Overall, it was just the type of day that clashed horribly with Harry's mood.

If the weather were to match his mood, then rain would be beating down against all windows of the Dursley household, maybe hailstones as well. Thunder would be creating mini-versions of seismic phenomena under the entire populace's feet. Lightning would be striking homes and trees without mercy, causing fires to sprout.

The disturbingly cheerful atmosphere outside was thoroughly annoying Harry. He would've already closed the blinds if it weren't for the fact that his physical senses were unable to function.

By now, it was the second week of summer vacation. Like last year, he dreaded going back to school. Unlike last year, the reason wasn't for being a bit nervous about how his schoolmates might treat him. After all, it had been more than just slightly suspicious when they saw him at the end of 4th year dragging Cedric Diggory's dead body across the school lawn.

This year, he didn't want to go anywhere. His schoolmates might be a bit nicer because they knew that Lord Voldemort really was back, but then he would have to endure his teacher's pitying stares. He'd have to walk through the halls hearing people chattering and feeling out of place because he wasn't "normal", like they all were.

Harry didn't want to be around his friends. Ron and Hermione would be tiptoeing around every subject, hoping that he wouldn't fly off the handle as he had last year, and praying that nothing that they said would remind Harry of Voldemort. Neither would know how to act around Harry after all that had happened last year.

Lastly, he certainly did not want to be hanging around this hellhole. Ever since he came home, the Dursleys had acted a bit petrified of him because of the Order's demands that Harry be treated right. This attitude was no different than how it had been when Harry had mention his godfather the summer before fourth year.

He never left his room much, anyway. He never felt like going outside, either---today's weather was like this since he had come back right after school ended. Mostly he lie in bed, forcing himself to remain thoughtless. If he thought, it was always about Sirius, or what Dumbledore had figured out and told him at the end of last year.

When Harry slept, he always had nightmares. His parents' deaths. All of the destruction that had gone on before he was born. Voldemort. All of the battles between them both. The corridors again. Death Eaters. Dementors. Cedric's death. The foreshadowed, upcoming war. Sirius's death. Why couldn't he sleep without nightmares? Surely all of the other sixteen-year-olds didn't have nightmares plaguing them every night as soon as their eyelids closed.

So he'd stay awake every night, too. Night and day, no real rest. Underneath, his eyes were black. He looked much more pallid than he ever had. But he couldn't allow himself to lapse into sleep, to see all of those gruesome images that projected themselves immediately, one after another. He couldn't deal with it; couldn't relive any of those moments.

Perhaps being with his friends would be better than this. Sure, all three of them might be uncomfortable around each other sometimes now, but being alone was being trapped in one's mind, which sometimes led to nightmares in his daydreams. Maybe being with Hermione and Ron and the Weasleys would do better at forcing all of his problems to the back of his mind, at least until school started.