The full summary: With every year Harry changes, but this year will be a change that will either strengthen him, or weaken him beyond repair. A girl comes into Harry's life, attractions are sparked, friendships are made, people are introduced, annoying paparazzi, many complications, a tangled web of secrets and a growing darkness. Are you ready for what's to come?
Pairing: Harry/OC, Ron/Herm and a few hidden ones.
Author's note: Hey peoples this is my first Harry Potter fanfic that I'm choosing to put out there so, I hope you like it. Um, I have no warnings at the moment except there is a little spoiler in here about Voldemort. And also, things are subject to change like the title and stuff like that, but I'll warn everyone if that happens. Oh and speaking of warnings, I will try my hardest to warn my readers when there is something to be warned about. K well finally here ya go.
Chapter one :A Movement in the Dark
The room was dark, with shadows casting across the room. Books of various sizes were scattered on top of each other or all over the dusty floor, clothes both clean and dirty, pieces of parchment flying in a small dance held up, by the small breeze that came through the open window, and homework lay scattered all over the place. Basically this room wasn't clean; all right it was a mess.
The cage that sat next to the open window had its door wide open, and it's confines empty. It usually held a beautiful female snow-white owl, with amber eyes that were always watchful. But at the moment the cage was as empty as the messy room.
While the streets outside were as quiet and still as the dark room, there was noise coming from a television set in the room just below the bedroom. Three voices were coming from the TV as three completely different men played across the screen, see something scream so high pitched that it broke the window that was beside them, they looked at the window laughed, then looked frightened again as the thing they had just screamed at started to chase them. They ran still screaming with hands up and feet barley seen as they ran as fast as they could in all sorts of directions.
With all that commotion playing across the screen the Dursley surrounded the television set while Dudley scooted as close as possible, which was basically face to face with the screen but he couldn't get that close for his thick frame would get in the way so he had to sit far enough so that he was comfortable and still able to see better than anyone in the room. He and his father, Vernon, laughed full mouthed, the laugh always more resounding than the last. Dudley was sprawled over the floor, Uncle Vernon lounged on the long couch, and Aunt Petunia nestled into tufted chaise a blanket around her for the style and not the temperature of the room, although it was actually pretty cool in the living room.
Harry Potter of number four Privet Drive sat at the far wall looking towards the television set not really watching, although there wasn't much to see since Dudley would always move to block the young man's view. He wore round eyeglasses that slid to the edge of his nose; he had a slim but toned face, which looked more mature with every summer and a slender yet well-built body due to his running and having to exercise with Dudley. When they said exercise they meant Harry due everything while Dudley got to lounge because his tummy hurt or for another made up excuse, his simple-minded parents absorbing only their little Dudley's lies and converting time into truths. They said that since they bought all that equipment it better be put to use. Harry had needed it, and he even admitted it, to himself of course since the Dursley's would take anything that gave him comfort or made him happy away. If they knew that he liked to get out his frustration, confusion, and angry in exercising his body till the point of exhaustion, they probably wouldn't care if only it didn't make him happy. He even added the look of exhaustion, to keep the smug look on Dudley's face and, more importantly, to keep his only means of comfort at his reach. Harry at sometimes would smile at the thought of how horrified they would be if they knew that all this was for his benefit. His hard work was hidden under his oversized clothes that looked as if it was swallowing him whole.
The reflection of what played on the TV danced across the glass of his eyeglasses, with his jet black hair scuffed, past his ears, and tossed all over as if he had just waken up Though his hair was always tousled he would look much more comfortable in his Hogwarts robes. And Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his true home, was where he really wanted to be at that moment, and every moment of everyday that passed so agonizingly slowly.
Harry's eyes were glossy as if he were in a daydream. He had good reason to be, it was rather hard to pay attention and watch the TV set while a pair of loud obnoxious laughter came from near the TV. What's the use of watching a movie if you can't be in peace while you watch it? That was why Harry was always left to entertain himself, that meaning taking a walk through the complicated park of his memories and his thoughts.
Last year the whole of the Ministry of Magic got to see for themselves that he-who-must-not-be-named was alive and wishing to kill Harry Potter, as usual, plus ruling the magical world, and worrying about the muggle world later. Now Voldemort was roaming the world probably recruiting more death eaters. The wizard world was in hysteria; people were either trying to make a big, huge deal with making rumors, or completely denying it, saying that it was completely absurd, while most if not all were much to afraid to believe. Gossip had flared from the little bit of information that had slipped from underneath the stacks of parchment in the Ministry of Magic. Now, no article can even go without mentioning something about He-who-must-not-be-named or Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, or something that was linked to them, like death eaters, or Harry being Gryffindor seeker. Even the sports articles couldn't go without mentioning something, or making the team they weren't routing for would be the death eaters while their team was the Aurors lead by the top two players Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore.
The world both magical and muggle were confusing him. Girls now will turn their heads as he walked by during his lost stroll through the park. They would always turn, giggle, and whisper. Every time he passed a group of girls they would do the 'girl thing', and even give him these strange looks as they scanned him from his toes and up. But with every group of girls he was getting very frustrated, he didn't understand and that just made him more mad for he already had a mess of problems he didn't need to be catching the eyes of girls. He even thought once that they were starting to notice that he was different; that he wasn't a muggle and that worried him so he had written to Hermione, Ron and Mr. Weasley. Hermione pointed out that if they knew they would be giggling, and if the were staring from head to toe, that would mean they were checkg him out, and Ron said that girls were just plain out confusing, and Mr. Weasley had just written that it was part of growing up. What ever that means, Harry thought. Harry did the most sensible thing he could do he just walked away, more like stomped away but still he was getting away. It didn't help that when he would look back to see if they were still watching him, they would be quickly glancing away with guilty expressions and sly glances towards him. When he turned his head back their giggling was all he could hear.
He was starting to think that girls were a species that have to be studied more closely so that guys would understand what girls meant by their actions. Why can't girls just say what they really mean, it would be much easier, he thought.
"HAHAHAHAHAHHHHAAAA! Dad did you see that, that block is so mixed up in the head. He's my favorite." Dudley's deafening voice cracked like a whip over the skin of noise and flesh of Harry's knotted thoughts. Harry had been so deep in thought that when that intrusion broke through he jerked his body up scrapping his back against the wall, but that didn't slow him down from jabbing out his wand and a spell bouncing on his tongue. His mouth was about to open when Aunt Petunia glared at him and horror filled her features as she dove to her son and covered him. Harry having learned quickly stuffed his wand into his pocket, slid against the wall and pretended to be deep in sleep. After a few minutes Aunt Petunia was laughing with Dudley and Uncle Vernon as if she understood what was so funny about the show. Harry waited a few more minutes before he opened his eyes. He had felt Uncle Vernon's eyes bearing into his form just seconds before he had started laughing.
Thanks, Dinky Duddydums. Thanks a lot, he thought with pure venom coursing through every word. The anger inside him wasn't new; it seemed always to be there sizzling, and so close to the surface.
Righting himself he looked toward the kitchen and watched the shadows. There was a slight breeze so the rose bushes and little trees danced with the wind, making their shadows glide around the polished floor. They moved so gracefully.
Then he saw a small jerk in one of the shadows, which was far to fast for it to have been the sweep of the wind that had pushed the trees. It was still for a few moments then it made another movement this one was small but still noticeable to a degree. Harry's eyes had been drifting so he had seen that movement. He started to get to his feet and this time it didn't move again.
Who would come into the Dursley's home when the family was presenting and sitting in the next room, and the fact that a wizard, meaning him, was present? Well if a really desperate Death eater… wait, they can't come near me, right? Course it could just be a psychopath, wait that's not a good thing either, but stillI could handle that. But I don't think I should take this chance knowing that I would probably be hounded by the order, ministry of magic, and the wizarding world for my actions. 'course this would be an act of self defense. Wait, why am I having a whole conversation in my head? I've been watching to much TV, that or the Dursley's are rubbing off on me. With a shiver at the though he got up. He hadn't been watching the shadow so he didn't know if the shadow was still moving or not, but still it is best if he checked.
His bare feet started to move towards the kitchen. He was expecting for the Dursleys to say something or make some sort of movement to stop him but when they didn't he just kept moving. His steps were slow, calculated, he didn't want to scare away whoever or whatever it was, if it was still there. He braced himself against the wall getting ready to jump into the kitchen, but he went against the urge, instead he stepped steadily inside his wand already in his hand and ready. He moved without thinking to where he had seen the shadow, when his body had made that sudden movement he thought he heard a gasp and was just about to blast the deep red rose that was falling from the open window. He breathed in and out. See it was nothing, he thought, but swore he had heard a gasp, not a big one but a gasp nonetheless. Wait that can't have been what was moving because that flower it's much to small. Groaning he rubbed his temples and trying to rub away the pain, as he looked at the flower. He could feel his pulse slowing down, and yet he hadn't even noticed that it had quickened in it's pace.
It was probably a cat or something, or maybe Hedwig was outside. He rubbed even harder.
Finally, Harry let out a big sigh and reached down to pick up the rose. It was kinda cute, cute? It was not fully blossomed but getting there, so much like him getting very close to a migraine, not yet there but so very close. When his skin came in contact with the soft and cool texture of the rose bud, it's scent filled his nostrils so strongly that he almost coughed; instead he cleared his throat and shook his head, tears surfacing his eyes.
The small rose in his hand was so delicate to the touch and so fragile. Blinking away the tears, he looked down and saw that it had fully blossomed. What the, he thought blinked several more times to see if the liquid in his eyes had effected his sight and when he looked down again it was still as he'd seen. All right two out of three, I must've not seen it correctly the first time. And now I think I have a migraine, Harry winced when he felt the jab of pain in his head. Placing the rose on the sink carefully, he made large strides to get to his bedroom as fast as he could when a heat wave hit him from behind. Stumbling slightly he looked around to see who had struck him with some spell.
Nobody was there, nothing. Then he looked at the stove, the microwave and the oven they were all off. What's going on, he thought not needing another mystery when all he needed was sleep, which was a problem he could solve. Then a thought passed through his mind. He checked his hand he, didn't have his wand out so he couldn't have been the one that had made the heat wave or the shadows move. His heart missed a beat when he thought of the owl that would soon be flying towards him and dropped a letter in his hands. That letter would either be telling him that this was another warning or that he was expelled and his wand would be snapped in two.
He waited his whole body tense as he stood there bracing himself for that moment when his heart would hit the floor, his place in Hogwarts slipping farther away from his grip, and that would defiantly be to far for Harry's liking. To his relief no bird came after ten minutes of standing there worried to death and body painfully still. He was already on the hate list of several of the people working at the Ministry of Magic, and he didn't want to cause more trouble.
His eyes wandered around the kitchen and the only thing that had caught his eye was the red rose. Titling his head he examined it more closely, pushing his headache aside. The color of the red was deeper than the deep red he had once thought it had been. It was a crimson shade of red, he had seen that type of red many times. The red reminded him of all the blood he had spent trying to get to a certain goal. He had already lost count of all the wound, bites, bruises, scrapes, and cuts he had already sustained and he was only on his six year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Harry didn't realize what he had done until he held the tender flower in his hand, his grip firm but relaxed, he handled the flower as if it was a baby. He got another strong whiff of the sent of the rose; it was sweet, calming, comforting, and natural. His body started to stagger, his head getting a little dizzy for a few seconds but he held his maintained his balance until it passed. He was starting to like the scent and the comfort that came with it, the rest he wasn't so sure about. Taking the rose with him he walked through the door, down the hallway, up the stairs, down another hall way and walked into his bedroom, his leg pushing the door closed, and finally he was in his room away from the blaring TV, and the rude muggle family.
True it was dark, a bit mucky, but it was still his and that was what was important. This was his sector of the home that he practically locked himself in for a portion of the summer until he would somehow end up spending the rest of the summer with his to best friends his: Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. He dreaded every moment he had to spend here. It was already August 3rd and they haven't been over to pick him up. He had asked both Ron and Hermione but they said that they didn't know. Hermione would be arriving at number 12 Grimmauld Place tomorrow and he wanted to be there to greet her and to spend time with the Weasley family.
Taking the cup off his desk that had been left there early in the morning due to his forgetfulness, and he plopped the flower inside the day old water. He placed the cup back on his desk before he took off the oversized shirt. When he was pulling off his shirt he heard a familiar nagging voice in his mind's ear and it was a Hermione like voice, saying, "Harry that rose will die if you don't put it close to the air and in the moonlight."
He frowned, and thought to himself, "I put it in water Hermione isn't that enough?" He felt that stitch in his side that told him that she was glaring at him and he gave in. It was too late at night and he was so tired, he knew that the smart thing to do was to give in and let her have her way.
He finished taking off the loose shirt and tossed it aside, to tired to care. His body was showered by the moonlight as he placed the cup on the side of the window that wasn't open so that when Hedwig came flying into his bedroom that she wouldn't topple the glass cup over and Harry get yelled at for his carelessness. The moonlight got caught in the glass of the cup and it reflected on the rippled muscles of Harry's upper body as he leaned against the frame of the window, gazing up at the stars. The moonlight defined the muscles of his chest, the four-pack that was developing into a six-pack, his triceps and biceps moving smoothly under his cool skin.
When he spotted a shooting star he made a wish and prayed, with as much hope as he could for that wish to come true very soon.
Turning he walked to the bed he placed his glasses on the desk as he slipped under the sheets. He flexed his muscles trying to get those unwanted kinks out of them. When he got rid of a few a few more would spring up, he finally gave up his body to sore to want to move any longer. He would worry about everything later.
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