I don't own harry Potter or anything related. Please don't sue me. P.S. I have no heart. If Harry doesn't seem to be missing Sirius properly blame it on that.

Chapter 2

Harry Potter had spent his summer kicking around Privet Dr., being ignored by the Dursleys. He survived mostly on water and the candy sent to him by his friends, wrote letters to the Order to let them know he was fine considering the circumstances, and brooded. He thought of a lot of things while stuck in his small bedroom, most of them involved Sirius. In the first weeks of summer he'd cried a lot, mostly at night when there was no chance of having Dudley walk by and hear him. His godfather, whom he had only discovered he had two years ago, had died, and it was mostly his fault. So he cried.

Crying was better than sleeping anyway. Voldemort used those times to send him dreams. They were filled with the bodies of slaughtered muggles. Sometimes Voldemort would make an appearance himself to tell Harry to give up. To quit before more of his friends were killed because of him. He taunted Harry about his godfather's death. He meant to wear down Harry's will to fight but all the Dark Lord actually did was pissed the Boy Who Lived off.

He was aware of the fact that it was his fault Sirius died, OK? He should have studied Occulmency harder, spoken to someone about his worries or at least not gone haring off to save the day with a gaggle of half-trained witches and wizards.

That didn't mean Voldemort had to keep shoving it in his face! After all, if Voldemort hadn't given Harry those dreams he wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and gotten Sirius killed now would he? And the more that Voldemort mentioned Sirius the more determined Harry got to make the evil bastard pay. He spent the rest of the summer hardening his resolve.

He had plenty of time to do it too, because he received a letter on his birthday telling him it would be safer if he stayed with the Dursleys. His books would be picked up for him. Happy Birthday and have a nice summer! Signed Remus.

Fuck Remus. And fuck the Order too! Harry had picked up the present that had come with the letter and hurled it angrily at the wall. Something in it shattered with a crystalline sound. Breathing hard he had stood there for a moment fuming at the injustice of his life. Then he picked up the box and gently placed it under his bed, he could repair it when he got to school.

It was probably for the best they left him here. They wouldn't want a murderer with them. Who knew who he'd go off to save and accidentally kill next he thought bitterly and pushed the letter to the back of his mind, where it festered, making his meeting with the Weasleys on Platform 9 ¾ stiff and uncomfortable. He didn't hug Mrs. Weasley back when she hugged him. She was just doing it for show anyway, she didn't really want to hug a murderer.

When Draco Malfoy burst into the compartment he was occupying with Ron and Hermione he was a little grateful. He'd interrupted delightful questions like "Harry are you OK?" and "You know it wasn't your fault don't you?" But mostly he was stunned by the blonde's new appearance. The boy was nearly glowing for goodness sake! Malfoy's face, which had always been pinched and pointed, had filled out. Sure it was still a little pointed but it was more of an aristocratic sharpness now. His eye's seemed a bit paler than the blue they were last year. And...had the boy's eyelashes grown longer? It was hard to tell because they were blond but Harry felt a twinge of pity. He was going to use that next time Draco made fun of his scar. Malfoy would undoubtedly be really sensitive about his girly eyelashes. But, what was the young aristocrat looking rather out of breath and a little panicked for? The blond suddenly dashed for the window startling Harry.

Justin Flinch-Fletchy peered into the compartment and made some lame apologies before retreating. By the time Harry turned back to Malfoy he had his nose so high in the air Harry expected him to develop frostbite. This was at odds with the fact he was pressed up against the window as though he were having a torrid affair with it. The thought brought a smile to Harry's lips as Ron asked Malfoy what he was doing there. The blond pushed himself away from the window.

"It's none of your business Weasel." He sneered. "Coming in here was a very unfortunate accident I hope to forget soon."

Right! Malfoy came into their compartment every year, without fail, to taunt them. The idea that he'd just wandered in by accident was ludicrous. It was more likely that Dudley would take up ballet dancing. Harry fixed his rival with a jaundiced eye and waited for him to say something, he'd be on him in a second. He had a summer of repressed anger to work out after all.

"That makes two of us." Harry prompted.

Malfoy opened his mouth... and nothing came out. His jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds before snapping shut. Maybe the blond had grown a brain over the summer. He drew himself up, it didn't take very long, despite being taller than Harry he was very thin and there wasn't much to draw up.

What was Malfoy doing here if not to insult? Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"If you've got nothing to say Malfoy, leave."

Harry meant to sound tired and dismissive but by the way Malfoy began to flee the compartment he must have sounded positively murderous. The train shifted as it started up and the blond teetered. Harry caught his arm to steady him without thinking. Malfoy ripped his hand away with a hiss of disgust.

Asshole. Harry withdrew into himself. He'd just caught his arm for Gods sake. It's not like he'd spit on his hands before touching him. Probably didn't want a murderer touching him. Ha! Well, guess what used to hug you before he got shipped off to Azkaban! Harry turned to Ron.

"Who do you think will win the Cup this year?" he asked even though he didn't really care. He watched Malfoy leave with cold eyes and didn't listen to Ron's response.

Harry had never noticed how boring the welcome feast was. It was pretty much the same speech from Dumbledor year after year – he was wearing purple robes with bright green moons and stars on them this year- and the sorting took forever. Why did everyone have to clap after each kid was sorted? It just made it take longer. Harry felt eyes on him for most of the meal but shrugged it off. Snape always tried to stare a hole in him at the welcome feast. The black haired boy ignored him this year. He was tired of seeing the older man looking disappointed that he'd lived through another summer and had the gall to return to Hogwarts. He was tired of the first years that sat farther down the table looking at him like the sun rose and set on him. Sometimes it was all he could do not to get up and shake them and scream that he wasn't a hero, he wasn't worth all this attention, that he'd get them all killed if they kept relying on him.

He was picking at his potatoes when Ron nudged him in the ribs.

"McGonagal's heading this way." he hissed. Harry turned to face the approaching professor. She held a cane and walked with a slight limp now. Her hair was streaked with more gray and the lines on her face deepened.

"Mr.Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office directly after dinner."

"Yes ma'am." he said.

"The password is licorice." She limped back to the professor's table.

"What do you think he wants Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged.

"You haven't done-?" Hermione began.

"Anything! It's only the first day of school Hermione!" he snapped.

She drew back, hurt. Ron tried to laugh it off.

"We have before!"

Harry just fixed him with a look and Ron went back to eating. Noxious laughter caught his attention. Pansy Parkinson was laughing at him.

"Aw, is Potter still sad about killing yet another person?" She mocked him. Harry tensed as whispers broke out around him. "Don't worry. You did everyone a big favor." She sneered "One less stray mutt to plague the world."

The rest of the Slitherin table joined her in laughing at him and Harry looked down to hide the vicious smile that curved his lips. She would get what was coming to her. One day when she went crawling to Voldemort he'd be there, waiting, and she would dearly regret her laughter.

Ron and Hermione leapt to their feet and he touched their arms to sit them down. He didn't pay attention to Malfoy as he stormed from the hall.

After dinner Harry made his way to the gargoyle in front of the Headmasters office.

"Licorice." The gargoyle jumped to the side. Harry climbed the stairs.

"Come in." Dumbledor's muffled voice drifted through the door. Harry surveyed the new landscape of the Headmasters office with a twinge of guilt. Some of the furniture was new as well as many of the knickknacks on the walls. He'd smashed them last year in a fit of rage. Harry considered apologizing, but only for a moment. The chair he settled in was comfortable despite its newness.

"Did you have a nice summer Harry?" Dumbledor smiled at him over the rims of his glasses, his eyes twinkling.

"It was fine." he said.

"No strange dreams?" The old man prodded gently. Harry snorted.

"I had lot's off strange dreams. Voldemort was very insistent that I give up." Ablus sighed, looking weary. He was doing that a lot of late.

"So you're still have Voldemort invade you dreams." Harry restrained a very sarcastic remark on that particular comment. He doubted that the Headmaster would be taken with his opinion.

"I am sorry my dear boy, but I must insist that you return to Professor Snape for Occulmency lessons." he said.

"But Professor-!" Harry cried. Albus waved him silent.

"I quite remember you dissagreements."

Disagreements? Disagreements! Give the man an award. That had to be the understatement of the year. Snape hated him, and he'd let that hatred blind him and had kicked him out before Harry had learned what he needed to know so he wouldn't go off and get anyone killed. There was no way in hell Harry was going back there!

"I know you two don't get along and I'm not asking you to suddenly start liking him. Just learn what you need to know. I've had a talk with Professor Snape and he's agreed to teach you again and try to keep a hold of his anger provided that you apologize for invading his privacy." Albus fixed the horrified boy with a stern look. "I was not aware that you had invaded Professor Snapes privacy Mr. Potter."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. The Headmaster obviously wanted some sort of confession but Harry was fairly certain Snape would rip him to shreds if he ever found out Harry had spilled the beans. Besides he was too petrified and angry to care what Dumbledor wanted at the moment.

Albus had had a talk with Snape? The old man had just signed his death warrant! His NEWT class was going to be hell on earth. And Snape wanted him to apologize? The greasy bastard probably wanted him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Harry fumed, he needed those lessons desperately, he realized that, but he'd be damned if he groveled for them! He could find books on Occulmency, maybe some wizarding catologe, and he didn't need Snape to practice repelling attacks on his mind. Voldemort went after him nearly every night. He could practice then. Granted, it was wrong of him to go rummaging through Snapes stuff. He'd have probably apologized to him anyway.

Urg, Dumbledor had talked to Snape about it. Harry could just imagine the first day of lessons with Snape looming over his shoulder and sneering at him.

"So our resident celebrity can't take a little criticism? His precious mind is too fragile? You had to go running to the Headmaster to deal with you problems. Lets see if we can't toughen up that mind a little. Three weeks of detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe running for you life will put a little criticism into perspective."

He wouldn't actually mention the running for your life thing, but he'd be thinking it. And knowing Ron and Hermione they'd probably insist on going along as backup and he'd be putting them in even more danger.

Dumbledor kept staring at him. Harry stared right back. Silence was a good strategy, most people moved to fill it, spilling who knows how many secrets, but Harry was good a silence. He'd had lots of practice in the first ten years of his life and he got to brush up every summer. Most of the time silence came more naturally to him than noise. Finally Dumbledor ran out of papers to shuffle around and looked up.

"Your first lesson with Professor Snape will be this Saturday at seven p.m. You will apologize then." His voice brooked no argument. His eyes softened then, becoming sad and regretful. "And there is one more thing. I tried to get your ban on Quidittch removed Harry but it was impossible. I am sorry Harry, you'll get your broom back soon and you can fly, but not on the Quidittch teams."

Harry remained silent, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair until they turned white. "It's ok." He choked out. Even though it wasn't, dear God, it wasn't all right he still got up when the Headmaster said good night and walked stiffly to the door.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts Harry." The Headmaster said softly.

Yes, Harry thought as he walked down the stairs. Welcome back indeed.

"Harry, you need to eat more than that."

"I'm just not hungry this morning Hermione." He sighed and picked at his food. "I'll eat more at lunch." He wouldn't, he wasn't ever hungry anymore, but Hermione didn't needed to know that. It would only make her worry needlessly.

"As long as you do eat more." She continued to eye him, twisting a stand of hair in a habit she's apparently picked up over the summer. Ron intervened before she could add anything else, bating her hand away from her hair and shrugging off her glare.

"Leave off Hermione, no one eats a lot all the time."

"I do." She snapped.

"Well you're Hermione aren't you? You're not normal people."

"Come on Hermione, it's time for potions." Harry interrupted their fight before it could escalate; they didn't have time for it now. Ron shook his head.

"I'm glad I didn't get in. See Hermione, that's probably why Harry isn't eating. Merlin knows I wouldn't eat before that gits class."

Hermione snorted and they left Ron to finish his breakfast. At potions they sat in the very back. Hermione wanted to sit closer but Harry ignored her and she eventually sat down next to him. Snape burst into the room right on time, as usual. He started speaking the moment the door crashed open.

"All of you have made it into NEWT potions. Congratulations." He came to a stop at the front and faced them sourly. "I expect much better performances than you showed last year. House rivalries will not be tolerated. Unlike last year, where a mistake could leave you with messy robes and en extra set of eyes a mistake this year could get you or someone else in this classroom killed."

He fixed them all with his dark stare and then turned in a flurry of sweeping robes to his desk.

"The potion you will be making today is on the board, it is review so I expect you all to have this perfect. There will be no getting help from your neighbors. If you cannot follow these rules you will leave this classroom and fail this quiz. Start!" he barked.

At the end of class they all turned in their potions, which Harry did horribly on.

"Mr. Potter, stay behind." Snape said.

Harry halted, swallowing a groan. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look a fled. When the classroom was empty Harry and Snape locked eyes over the Professors desk. The tension in the room was palpable.

"All of the students in this class made their way into it on their own merit Mr. Potter." He said quietly, vindictively. "All except for one. You."

Harry bristled. "I got an O." he snapped. "The same as everyone else...sir."

Snape laughed at him.

"Oh you poor deluded boy. You had improved a little in potions by the end of the year I'll admit," the way his mouth puckered made it clear he wasn't happy about it. "but it wasn't enough to get you an O in potions. Had Dumbledor not interfered I would have had you out of my classroom in a heartbeat."

The greasy man paused, giving Harry a chance to speak. The boy remained silent, shivering in betrayal. Dumbledor wouldn't do that, would he? Harry would like to think that he wouldn't but his actions last year spoke otherwise. Snape continued.

"And now, I am forced to give you Occulmency lessons again." He exited from behind his desk and circled Harry, stopping too close to him, breathing down the boy's neck. "Practice clearing your mind each night before bed. I will know if you don't and the lessons will cease immediately. Do you understand boy? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" he roared when Harry didn't respond fast enough.

"Yes." Harry said tightly.

"Yes sir. You will show me respect you stupid child." Snape hissed.

"Yes. Sir. May I go now? Sir."

"You are dismissed. I suggest you enlist Ms. Granger's help in studying for this class Mr. Potter. Unless you want to seriously injure yourself. Given your track record I wouldn't rule out the possibility. Anything for a little attention from the fans, right Potter?"

Harry clenched his fists until his nails bit painfully into his palms and stalked out of the room. He closed his mouth tightly over some very sour words, it would only give him more to apologize for on Saturday. Hermione was waiting for him at the end of the hall.

"What did he want?"

"To tell me to practice Occulmency and to insult me. Like usual."

He ran a hand through his hair and cast the worried girl a glance. He didn't want to tell her about Snapes revelation. He wasn't quiet sure what he made of it yet- or even if he believed the slimy bastard- so he didn't want anyone else's opinion. Besides Hermione would make a fuss and that's that last thing he wanted.

He was disappointed with Dumbledor and angry. The old man knew he didn't want to coast through life on the prestige of his name. So why had he done this? Did he think it would make Harry happy? Was it some sort of obscure apology about last year? Harry just didn't know. But if he hadn't made it into potions on his own...maybe he would do well to take the Potions Masters advice, just this once.

"Hermione, I need your help studying for potions." he said.

"What?" she said suspiciously.

"Will you help me study for potions?"

"And you'll really study?" she narrowed her eyes at him, something like hope burning in them.

For the first time Harry was struck by how much joy she derived from learning and teaching. He and Ron had always passed it off as some strange obsession and made fun of her, like everybody else. He hadn't really considered how much it might secretly hurt her to have one of her greatest joys in life constantly made fun of. Staring into her hopeful eyes Harry made a promise to himself that he'd leave off teasing her.

"I'll really study." he smiled at her.

"Alright! First we're going to have to review some because, let's face it, you didn't absorb all that much from the last couple of years. Then-." She degenerated into mumbles, planning his life to herself for the next few weeks.

He tolerated her good-naturedly for the rest of the day and when she immediately headed for her dorm after classes to draw up some schedules he watched her go with a smile. Ron scratched his head.

"What'd you say to her?" he asked.

"I asked her for help in potions."

"What! How could you?" Ron cried. "I'll never see either of you again. You know how she gets."

"Quiet Ron." Harry shushed him. "She really likes it."

"Yeah." Ron said and something in his voice made Harry look at him.

He was gazing fondly at the girl as she came hurrying back down the staircase. A small smile curving his lips. His eyes were warm and bright. He went over to Hermione smiling affectionately and Harry watched the way they talked and looked at each other and wondered why he'd never seen it before.

Yeah, he thought, he does understand.

Harry spent the rest of the week hiding most of his food from Hermione. His appetite showed no signs of returning and he didn't feel like explaining himself to an angry Hermione. He just wasn't hungry anymore. He didn't really think about it. It would return when it returned and until then he ate very little. Like a few bites little before he stared feeling sick.

He also spent a lot of the time composing the apology he'd like to say to Snape on Saturday which went something like, "I'm sorry for invading your privacy, even though what I saw wasn't that humiliating and you overreacted like the big bat you are, and because you think I'm my father – which I'm not – you kicked me out. And because of that I couldn't block the dreams and got my godfather killed. I hope Voldemort tortures you a lot." And then he redrafted it into something Snape would want to hear. "I'm sorry Professor Snape for invading your privacy. I was wrong of me and I promise I'll never do it again and I didn't tell anyone. Even though it was pretty stupid of you to leave that pensieve out I hope you can forgive me." That one needed a few revisions too. But by the time seven o'clock Saturday rolled around he one pretty much worked out and he knocked on the dungeon door.

"Get in here Potter." Snape barked. "Legilimens!"

Harry stumbled back as his mind was forcefully broken into and then he was- .

Standing in the rain outside number 4 Privet Drive hoping that his aunt would remember he was out there soon. He would knock but they always got so mad when they were reminded he was there and they started-.

Yelling at Hermione as she urged him worriedly to eat more. It was so annoying she was always-.

Watching Malfoy hurriedly leave the compartment on the first day back as Ron chattered obliviously beside him.

"Pathetic." Snape spat. "You didn't practice clearing your mind at all. I shouldn't have expected any more from the Boy Who Lived, he's to good to listen to his betters. No wonder you got your godfather killed. Get out Potter."

Harry clenched his fists in outrage. How dare he! He had practiced. He'd practiced so diligently every night that his dorm mates were beginning to make fun of him.

"I did practice!" he cried.

"Then you weren't doing it correctly! Get out!" Snape bellowed.

"Then tell me the right way!" Harry screamed back, surging to his feet from where he fallen from Snape's attack. He came up close enough to feel Snapes breathe brush against his face in angry little puffs. Harry was suddenly dizzy. He unobtrusively widened his stance a little to brace himself and slowed his breathing down. The dizziness had started in late August whenever he got too worked up. He didn't worry about it too much. The Dursleys hadn't fed him much so it was probably because of that. It would go away when his appetite came back.

"You don't even know how to clear your mind?" Snape hissed incredulously.

"No. Sir."

"You didn't think to study ahead of time you stupid boy!"

"No sir." It hadn't even occurred to his that there might be books in the library on the subject. He wouldn't have know where to find them or what to study anyway but he didn't tell him that. Snape wouldn't care. The potions master turned on his heel, robes flying, and bent over the desk his desk, quill scribbling furiously. When he was done he thrust a piece of paper at the boy. Harry recoiled and blinked cautiously at it before taking it.

"Get those books from the library and read them, I expect to see you back here three weeks from now with the knowledge you need. Now leave."

"But-." What about his apology?

"Go Potter!"

Harry got. If Snape didn't want his apology then Harry would gladly keep it to himself. The black haired boy looked down at the paper in his hand and sighed. That was a lot of books and when combined with all the work he was going to have to do to keep up in potions it didn't look like he'd see the light of day for a while.

He might as well get some sleep while he could. Harry trudged to his bed, absently noting that Ron wasn't there, and changed into his pajamas, padding into the bathroom he brushed his teeth and looked reluctantly up into the mirror. He didn't do it much anymore. He never liked what he saw.

He could see why Hermione was worried. He was too pale and thin, his cheekbone were startlingly prominent. His eyes had dark bruises around them and his hair was limp and ragged. He hadn't had a hair cut in God knows how long. He was shorter than he should have been despite the growth spurt he'd suffered last year and younger looking too. One of Dursleys neighbors had mistaken him for a fourteen-year-old. He'd been dismayed to find out Harry was sixteen.

Harry could see why he'd mistaken him for a child. His face had never really lost that childlike roundness despite his thinness and his limbs were the gangly, knobby mess of a boy in his first growth spurt and hadn't quiet caught up with himself yet. It was at odds with his hands though, they were long and callused and covered in scars from when he'd worked in the kitchen before he was coordinated enough to reliably handle a knife.

Harry's large, worn pajama top hung loosely from his torso but he knew what was underneath. He was skinny. He had some muscle from his days in the garden but mostly he was just thin. See all your ribs type thin. But Harry didn't look at himself all that often, it'd get better soon.

"Oh dear, you look awful." The mirror cooed.

"I'm fine." His new mantra. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. He turned away from it, tired of looking at his depressed face; everyone else did more than enough of that for him.

He lay wake in his bed until he heard Ron come in and then stared at the ceiling a while longer. He fell asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes next the windows were filled with light. Dust motes dancing gaily in the beams.

Over the next two weeks Harry's prediction came true. When he wasn't in the common room studying potions with Hermione peering over his shoulder he was reading up on Occulmency or doing homework from his other classes. It was only when he felt he was going to go insane and bash the next cheerful person's face in that he went outside to meander around the school grounds.

Whenever Hermione was done studying, and it was inevitable that she was done before him, she and Ron would leave to do whatever it was they did. Harry didn't think they were a couple yet but he liked to think he was helping them along by not trailing after them. When they came back after dinner or whenever, they always asked if he'd eaten and he would say yes, while they were gone. He hadn't of course, and he kept gradually losing weight but they didn't need to know that. He found a potion that masked it and no one was the wiser.

Except he couldn't hide his increased irritability, nor the way he paused when he stood to let his head clear. He'd taken to wearing sweaters most of the time because he was always cold. He could tell that they were worried by his behavior but they didn't press, he always reacted harshly.

He also noticed a steady decline in the number of dreams Voldemort sent him. Or maybe it was the number of dreams that Harry let get through. Harry felt very accomplished and dutifully reported the significant ones to Dumbledor. That is to say he told the old man about the ones where Voldemort killed people, not the ones where he taunted Harry. Those weren't really any of the Headmasters business. Albus had shown he couldn't be trusted with matters of the heart.

One night Harry dreamed of Voldemort, which wasn't unusual, but the way Voldemort wasn't aware of him was. The red eyed overlord was bent over a long table intently studying the plans to a building. Harry could feel his excitement, it twisted along his nerves like poison, making him feel sick to his stomach. It was big. It had to be. Voldemort wanted this so much. A lot of people would be hurt or die. Harry stepped forward to get a closer look at the blue prints. He had to stop this. Voldemort immediately whirled around.

"Insolent nosy boy!" he hissed and Harry was thrown roughly back into his own head and into wakefulness.

Swinging to his feet he didn't even bother with proper robes. He snagged a Weasley sweater and had it on by the time he reached the portrait hole. At the gargoyle Harry quickly said the password and went straight into the Headmasters office. Dumbledor wasn't there.

"Wake him up. I had a dream." Harry told the portraits.

A plain looking woman nodded and left her frame. Harry sat down to wait for Dumbledor. The old man appeared shortly, from a previously hidden door. He had his beard tied back and a surprisingly plain sleeping cap perched jauntily on his head. His normally twinkling eyes peered seriously over the rims of his glasses at him.

"You had a dream Harry?" He settled himself behind his desk. "Lemon drop?"

"No thanks. Yes, I had a dream. Voldemorts planning on attack a building. A big one I think."

Dumbledor leaned forward as Harry described his dream. When he was done Albus settled back, his face serious.

"What makes you think it was an important building Harry?" he questioned.

"The blueprints he was looking at were big and he was eager." Harry shivered, remembering. "He was going to attack and he couldn't wait."

"But you didn't see what building." Dumbledor prodded.

"No." Harry didn't like the way this conversation was heading. Why wasn't Dumbledor up and doing something already?

"Then I'm sorry. We cannot do anything if we don't know where the attack is going to be."

Harry gaped, stunned.

"But you have sources! You have to. Have them ask around-."

"And expose themselves to danger for an attack that might not even happen? Harry, we don't even know if that dream was by accident or not."

"It wasn't sent to me!"

Dumbledor gazed at him regretfully.

"You have thought that before my boy."

Sirius.

Harry felt like he'd been sucker punched. He sucked in a deep breath and tried not to let the Headmaster see how deeply his words had affected him.

"Of course." He choked out. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. In the future I'll make sure I know something useful before coming to you."

He stood unaware of Dumbledors worried gaze on his back as he strode to the door. Unfortunately in his distraction Harry forgot to pause to let his head clear and, with his hand on the doorknobe, he swayed dangerously and had just enough time to be dismayed before blissful darkness gathered him in.

CHAPTER END

Oh thank god that's over with. This was nearly twenty pages written down on paper and I'm not the fastest typist around. Sorry it took so long. Harry just kept going on and on and on. The next chapter is a lot shorter. So it should be out sooner. I have five chapters written so you guys will get at least that much. Thank you everyone who offered to beta and I really appreciate all of you nice reviews.

By the way, Harry is a bit different as you might have noticed. It is my personal belief that Harry could not have survived growing up with the Dursleys and ten years of neglect and verbal abuse with out some sort of mental scarring to show for it. The Dursleys always punished him by withholding food so now as a punishment to himself for getting Sirius killed, as he believes he's stopped feeding himself, only he's not really aware that that's what he's doing, he just is.

Also, since the Dursleys wouldn't have wanted him to make much noise so Harry probably would have grown up a quiet kid and that would probably extend to now so that's going to be showing up. And since he never got anything as a kid, was never allowed anything, and told he didn't deserve it deep down despite all the praise heaped upon him by the wizarding world he doesn't really believe he deserves anything. Like love.

Until next I update!