Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. I do however own the plot and my characters Professor Sanchez and Cassandra DeCartalano. Other than that, everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. She's smart!!!

Chapter 1- Disturbing Memories

Harry awoke grumpily from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his little bedroom in Privet Drive. He had only been out of Hogwarts for a week, and he already felt miserable. Harry now had freedom, as the Dursleys were afraid they would be jinxed if Harry was unhappy. Even with the power to go wherever he wanted couldn't cheer Harry up.

He sat up in his bed, the door to his wardrobe was open and his reflection was starting back at him. His jet black hair was still ruffled from a restless night; his wonderfully green eyes had bags under them from his lack of sleep. He put on his glasses for a better look at himself. 'At least I don't look like skin and bones anymore,' he thought. It was true. Over the summer the Dursleys had been feeding Harry well enough and now his sized balanced with his height, which had increased from the previous year. If only Sirius could've seen him like this.

Sirius. Harry couldn't stop thinking about him. His death had been the cause of Harry' stupidity, at least that's what he was telling himself. He was also thinking about the prophecy. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Out of all the people in the world why was he the one with all the problems?

In his dreams the echoing words of the prophecy haunted him:

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES....BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONT DIES...AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT...AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES....THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BEBORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES...." (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 37, page 841)

It took a while for Harry to fully understand what it meant. In his life, he either must kill, or be killed by, Voldemort. The fate of the wizarding world could be resting on his shoulders. If Voldemort was to be killed, it would be Harry who would have to do it. If Harry was killed by Voldemort, nobody in the world could stop him.

There was a banging against his window. It startled him and Hedwig awoke with a start. Harry saw a ball of fluff trying to break through his window. It was still dark outside and he couldn't tell what it was. He was cautious as he slowly opened the window. A ball of feathers zoomed into the room. It fluttered about, a letter tied to its leg.

Harry's heart soared. A letter from Ron! Harry wrestled Pig into his hand and untied the letter. Once the letter was in his hand, the little owl hooted merrily, proud of completing his task. He landed next to Hedwig's perch and started to drink. Hedwig glaring at him with her amber eyes. Harry unfolded the letter and recognized the sloppy handwriting of his red-headed friend:

Harry

Me and Hermione are at you-know-where. We know this may be hard for you but we need to talk about the death of you-know-who. Mum's making arrangements for you to come sometime next week.

Ron

Harry usually looked forward to Ron's invitations to spend the rest of the summer with him. But he didn't want to go back the Grimmauld Place. It was too full of memories of Sirius. He thrust Ron's letter on the floor and collapsed onto his bed. Pig started fluttering around his head, flapping his wings in Harry's face.

"Alright already!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms in an attempt to get Pig out of his face.

He grabbed a piece of parchment off his desk and began scribbling a reply:

Ron

Yeah, ok. Send back an owl when you have a confirmed date.

Harry

He rolled up the piece of parchment, grabbed Pig by the tail, and violently fixed the letter onto his leg. Pig took off, hitting the wall before flying through the open window. "That is one mad bird," he said under his breath as he closed the window.

The digital clock on his desk read 4:30. 'Good,' he thought to himself, 'I don't have to start another miserable day just yet.' And with that, he turned off the lamp, and tried to get another bit of sleep.