Disclaimer: I swear I don't own Harry Potter or any related concepts besides any characters not immediately recognizeable from JKR's work. Please don't pop my brains with legalese!

Summary: As Harry enters his 6th year, he struggles with the implications of the prophecy and the grief he feels over Sirius' death. And what is the "power the Dark Lord knows not?" What does this new prophecy mean? And who is the Demonslayer? HG, RH, OCOC, Super!OC, independent!OC, notsuperbutprettygood!Harry, notquiteindependentbutsullen!Harry.

A/N: This is my first fic, so give me some time to get used to the concept here.

Chapter 1: Grief O'erwhelming

At number 4 Privet Drive, the three constant residents, the Dursleys, might have you think that everything about them was normal. They wore normal clothes, they ate normal things, and they acted like normal people all around. However, for three months of the year, there was one slightly abnormal resident. Harry Potter was a wizard. A famous wizard, in fact. For five years, he'd been attending the Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had been through far too many adventures for a boy of 15. Well, 16 at this point.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he muttered to himself as the clock struck midnight on July 31. At a slight noise on his window, he turned to see 3 owls there. One was Errol, the Weasley family owl, bearing letters and gifts, one tawny owl he didn't recognize, and one final, jet black owl bearing a long, thin package. He looked around for an owl from Sirius before he realized what he was doing, then broke down again. He sat down hard on the floor, tears welling up into his eyes.

'My fault, my fault, my fault," he though, over and over again. He still blamed himself for his godfather's altogether untimely demise. Last year, he had been tricked by Voldemort into taking himself and some of his friends to the Department of Mysteries to save his godfather, or so he thought. His godfather, had not, in fact, been there, but had later appeared to save harry, but ended up dying by his cousin's hand. It had been horrible for Harry to watch, and he blamed himself.

Finally overcoming his grief for a little while, he took the presents from the silent owls and set about opening them. As they flew off, he began opening the presents from the Weasleys. He opened Mrs. Weasley's package first, receiving his customary gift of food, which he hid with the rest of his stash under the loose floorboard before turning to Ron's gift. Opening the letter, he began to read.

Harry, mate,

Happy Birthday! I hope you have a good one. Everything's been tense over here at HQ, There's been a lot of mourning and stuff, and Mum's really angry that we found out about the prophecy.

Harry had told all his friends about the prophecy in his first letter to them and had also instructed his friends to inform everyone at Grimmauld Place.

But, we're all here, even Hermione. And, mate, for some reason, I can't get her out of my mind. I don't understand this at all. I mean, she's just my friend. Oh, well. I needn't burden you with my problems. Oh, and sorry, but you can't come to Headquarters this summer. Dumbledore says that now that You-Know-Who can't hide anymore, he won't even be trying. We'll pick you up on September 1st.

Best Wishes,

Ron

P.S. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Harry snorted at Ron's lack of tact. He'd managed to bring up every topic Harry didn't want to think about. Opening his gift from Ron, he found an orange hat with black lettering proudly labeling it a Cannon's Cap! with precisely five exclamation points. Shaking his head in lament of his friend's poor social skills, Harry moved on to Hermione's letter.

Harry,

Happy Birthday! I hope you have a good one.

Harry let out a laugh at her unwitting quotation of Ron.

How's your summer been? Ours isn't going so well. Everyone has been a bit upset since the Department of Mysteries. There's been a lot of sorrow and tears, and Ron's Mum is somewhat annoyed that you told us the prophecy.

But, Harry, get this: I can't stop thinking about Ron! Ron Weasley! I don't really know anything about this. I mean, we're only friends. Ah, well.

See you on the 1st,

Hermione Granger

Harry let out a full-throated laugh at the way Hermione and Ron managed to say the exact same things, but in different words. Opening his gift from her, he found a book entitled The Death of a Loved One: Grief and How To Cope.

"She's just as bad as he is. Honestly!" he murmured. Opening the final letter and package, which were labeled as coming from Ginny Weasly, he hoped she'd have more tact than her brother or Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Isn't that the most trite beginning you've ever heard? It's so formal and boring, and it's the first part anyone reads. Whenever I read that, I'm tempted to put down the letter out of fear the rest of it will be boring. Well, anyways, Happy Birthday! I hope your summer's been going well. Mine sure hasn't. Ron and Hermione are pussyfooting around each other again, refusing to admit that they actually do like each other. Hermione's too proud to admit she didn't know something about herself for years, and Ron's to proud to admit he feels anything out of fear of rejection. Of course, the only way to get rid of these blocks is to get rid of their pride, so I've decided to destroy that by embarassing them in as many places as possible, such as setting up pranks that put them very close together, then walking in on them. But Mum's had us working on cleaning up this house since we got here.

The rest of Ginny's letter was a diatribe on the cleaning of Gimmauld Place, full of amusing anecdotes and random ramblings finally ending in

I can't wait to see you on the 1st!

See you soon,

Ginny

Harry stared, astounded at Ginny's insight. This had been exactly what he needed. Not a single thing in that letter reminded him of the Ministry. Opening her gift, he found another, smaller book entitled 101 Funniest Magical Mistakes. It was the perfect remedy for his grief. Setting it aside for now, he opened the letter from the tawny owl, which was apparently from Dumbledore. As he began to read the letter, Harry's hackles went up.

Dear Mr. Potter,

True to my word, I have owled you to inform you of something very important. Earlier today on the 31st, a Seer made another prophecy believed to be of concern to you. I was present for this, and here is the text verbatim.

Harry was appalled. Another prophecy? About him? He decided that he'd better cut to the chase and began reading.

"The Dark Lord comes, and the predecessor to this prophecy is destroyed. Soon, one overlooked shall join the one chosen in love to defeat the Dark Lord, but only once he has been joined by two from out of time. Those two shall teach the Chosen before they turn on each other. Only two of them shall emerge from this. In the Dark Lord's victory, shall emerge the two from out of time, but in the Chosen's victory, only he and his beloved will come away. Only he and his beloved..."

Most of this new prophecy was pure gibberish to Harry. Two from out of time? What was that supposed to mean? Harry shook his head as he thought of the one part he did understand; he was going to find his true love before he killed Voldemort. That was a startling thought. He thought through all the girls he knew, lingering over none of them. Hermione and Ginny were both very nice, but Hermione and Ron were obviously meant for each other, and Ginny was, just, well, flatly unattractive when he last saw her. He shook his head, thinking he had yet to meet the person. Finally, he moved on to his last present, and a short note of unknown origin.

Potter,

Hold onto this. It'll be useful at school.

D.S.

Who was DS? Harry shrugged it off and opened the package. Inside, he found two sheathes, one shorter than the other. He carefully drew each weapon out of his sheath. He drew the shorter blade, which was curved, and examined its sheath. It was clearly emblazoned 'Wakazashi.' The other, longer blade, had a sheath with 'Katana' written on it. But who would be sending him swords? And why?

A/N: Sorry for all the typos in the first edition of this. I wrote it kind of late last night. Or, rather, this morning.