a/n this is my first ever story so please be nice, constructive criticism is welcome. I don't' have a beta right now so please bear with me.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything… except for the plot and any characters you don't' recognize. I've read so many stories like this that I'm sure I'm taking some of your ideas, Especially Rosswrock who is writing the best story ever, Harry Potter and the Power of Time.
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived
The night was calm and quiet. The sky was clear and the stars were shining. If anybody were to look all they would see was a boy; a boy of around sixteen with midnight black hair and startling green eyes hidden by round glasses. He had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. This boy's name was Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was no normal boy. He was a wizard, and a famous one at that, fresh from his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had seen so many horrors in his almost sixteen years. He had dealt with dementors, giant snakes, trolls, a dragon, and his mortal enemy Voldemort. Harry had defeated Voldemort when he was one year old, becoming famous instantaneously. Voldemort had been terrorizing the wizarding world for about thirteen years before the fateful Halloween night. He traveled to Godric's Hollow, intent on killing little Harry, but his plans backfired. After killing Lily and James Potter, he turned his wand on Harry, but the curse backfired, robbing Voldemort of a body and powers. He tired to come back, twice, before, in Harry's fourth year, devised a plan to get his body back. He kidnapped Harry and Cedric Diggory with the Triwizard Cup and by using Harry's blood, regained his body. He killed Cedric before Harry's eyes. Then about a year later watched as his godfather, Sirius Black, fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries never to return. Not twelve hours later, his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, told him the reason Voldemort wanted him dead in the first place. He put the burden of the prophecy on Harry's already heavily burdened shoulders and then sent him back to his relatives, the Dursleys, who hated everything to do with magic, meaning Harry and his 'freaky' friends.
Currently, Harry was lying on his back in the grass at the park in Little, Whinging, Surrey, contemplating to himself.
'Why did I have to go to the ministry? Why did I have to believe that stupid vision? I am so stupid. If only I hadn't gone, Sirius would be here right now. And what about the prophecy… 'neither can live while the other survives…' Why must it always be me? To kill or be killed. Why didn't Dumbledore tell me this before…what a time to put it on me, a few hours after Sirius is killed. I don't think I can trust Dumbledore anymore…I've been a weapon he's been manipulating for his own worth for far too long. I won't do what he wants me to do and be a good little boy. I'm going to be free of him and his plan. I'll start at Diagon Alley tomorrow and do a little shopping. I'm going to train on my own and kill that bastard, Tom Riddle. When I'm through with him, he'll wish he'd never been born.'
With that last thought, Harry went inside to plan his cover and go to bed.