Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. Boy, I sure wish I did though, That'd be sweet! I want to own Snape. Thinks evil thoughts...

Chapter 2, The dream I have.

That night, Harry dreamt that he was at a park with high swing sets. He was climbing one of them all the way to the top. But when he looked down, he saw hundreds of hedgehogs standing at the bottom looking up at him, pleading him to help as dark cold water spilled over them, drowning and killing everything it touched. He smiled down at the scene and started to laugh, until he realized that the water was rising. It kept climbing until it was close to Harry. He knew it was his own fault, that he had started it. That all the hedgehogs died because of him, he didn't care. And soon the water was going to kill him too. He couldn't let something like that happen to him. With one swift motion, Harry brought his hand up to his face. It was covered in blood. It was his fault, all his fault. Harry started to feel the sharp pang of guilt. He covered his mouth and nose with the bloody hand, until he couldn't breath. He wouldn't let the water drown him, he would kill himself. As the water rose, his vision became blurry and he knew it was the end. And with his last breath, he apologized to the world. Then he died, and the water consumed him.

Harry woke up slowly and calmly, like it was just a normal dream. That's because it was a normal dream. He had been having it for quite some time. Maybe every other night for about two weeks now. He was somewhat confused to its meaning though, and that royally pissed him off. He hated being confused and not knowing things.

He sat on his bed thinking about his dream, but his mind just didn't want to work. So, like any other fifteen-year-old boy would, Harry came to the logical conclusion.

"Food." He mumbled to himself. He slowly stood up, sat back down, stood up again and stumbled blindly out of his room, almost killed himself on the stairs and all for a stupid piece of toast, dry toast. Mm, what joy, I think I'll dance. He sat down at the table and ignored the evil stare he received from his uncle. Actually, the kick he got from his cousin Dudly was quite nice, at least it was a recondition of his existence. Usually all he got was the evil stare, and maybe a few words out of his aunt. But it was only to tell him to do his chores. That had happened less and less over the summer.

So Harry ate his toast in silence, thinking about his next return to Hogwarts. Boy would they be surprised. He had changed a lot in this short period of time. His hair was longer, almost shoulder length but not quite, and he had used a spell before he left the train to repair his vision, his glasses were getting boring. He liked to wear make up now, not a lot, just some eyeliner and consealler to make his scar less noticeable. He also wore a lot of black clothes, black jeans, black shirts, black bracelets. But his favorite thing to wear was his silver ring, in the shape of a serpent wrapped around his finger. Taking one look at him, a grownup would say he was a Goth/punk, but Harry was neither. He never smoked, or did drugs, and he didn't like punk music, or rock. He liked to sit in his room or in the park listening to his Walkman which usually played Rock Opera, Opera, music from the 80's, or Japanese Tech music. But his favorite thing to do this summer was visit LA. Harry loved LA, the way the streets worked, the music, the parties, the people. That was his favorite part of LA, the people. There were so many different types of people there, so many personalities. Harry sighed and walked out of the kitchen feeling even hungrier than before, if that was possible.


Back in his bedroom, Harry sat cross-legged on the ugly blue carpet leaning against the wall just under the window. It was a bright sunny day, but the weather did not reflect his emotions in the least. It was hot, so Harry left the window open, letting in the retched sunlight and the tinniest of breezes. He thought about making himself a paper fan, but he was too lazy, and too bothered by what had happened the other night. Maybe Ron had an answer to his problems.

In his hand he held a letter from Ronald Weasley, his friend, not his best friend. Don't get him wrong, Harry loved Ron like a brother, well he used to anyway. He seemed to be growing apart from everyone around him lately. Strange.

Harry re-read the letter and sighed. Ron was so naive, everyone who followed Dumbledor was. It seemed that no one except him, and Wolfram and Hart, could grasp the concept of the yin-yang. It was fools like Dumledor and Voldemort that think it can be one way or the other, that start wars like the coming one. Harry decided that this particular internal battle was not too important right now, so he read Ron's letter once again.

Dear Harry,

It sucks that you have to stay

With the Durslys for another week.

Not much going on with me, just

Sitting around the house. I'll see

You in a week.

Ron

Harry crumpled up the pathetic letter. Not even a, "how are you?" Maybe Ron was finally realizing that Harry was drifting away. But the fool still wrote to him. What a dip-shit. Oh how he loathed Ron right now. Harry took out a new sheet of paper to reply on. But found himself writing an angry letter instead.

"No Ron, you can't visit Harry, even though I have no authority over you especially over the summer holidays."

"Yes professor Dumbledor, what ever you say, because I'm incapable of thinking for myself." Harry mimicked in a high pitch voice as he wrote away everything he hated about Ron, and Dumbledor, and Hermione, and summer, and School, and the Ministry, and life. The paper tuned out to be three papers double sided, full of letters which turned into words, which turned into sentences, which turned into paragraphs, all about the things he hated. When he was done, he read it over again and noticed he never put down anything about Voldemort. He never once put down anything about Voldemort. And he realized that he had written that the worst thing in the world, is not being able to stop all the pain.

"Thank you Ron, I think you did help me decide. I'll go see Lindsay now." So Harry got up, feeling a little better now that things had cleared up in his head somewhat, and apperated back to LA.

Harry walked around the street for a little while, thinking over what he was about to do. Harry was no fool, he wouldn't just jump in head first like he used to. He thought long and hard about everything and he knew he needed some questions answered. Not all of them could be answered by one person, though. Harry needed to see both sides of the story first. He walked right past Wolfram and Hart and towards a little hotel with the sign that read, "Angel Investigations". Harry was no fool, he would seek as much knowledge about Wolfram and Hart as he could, and who better to talk to then their worst enemy.

(A/N so that was chapter two. Still a little short, I know, but I couldn't keep the story moving with out starting a new chapter, it would have been run-on, like this sentence. It would be appreciated if you reviewed, but don't feel obligated, if you don't want to review, then don't. The next chapter will be up soon, in less then a week I can assure you.)