Chapter 2

The day began as any other at number four Privet Drive, with the sun rising in a glorious display of bright orange and pink. Birds chirped happily in the trees, dew shone brightly on the well trimmed lawns and a gentle breeze wafted through the open windows of the neat little houses of Privet Drive. All in all it was a perfect summer's day, so very different from the parched summer before.

And also very different from last summer was Harry Potter, sixteen year old resident of number Four Privet Drive. Unlike last summer Harry was not anxiously waiting post man to deliver the morning paper so that he could read it before Uncle Vernon, nor was he pacing the length of his room anxiously waiting for an owl to deliver the Daily Prophet.

Quite the contrary, Harry lay peacefully on top of the light sheet on his bed, arms at his sides, palms facing up, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rhythmically as he drew in long relaxed breaths and then let out just as calmly as he'd drawn them in. It was a rather strange position for a teenage boy to find himself in on such a beautiful summer's day, but then Harry Potter was no ordinary boy.

Born to James and Lily Potter, a wizard and witch who had died to save him from Voldemort, the darkest wizard that had ever been. Afterwards he'd been left to live with his Aunt and Uncle, muggles who hated everything to do with magic, especially him. Because of their hatred of all things magic Harry had not known he was a wizard until that fateful night when Hagrid had brought him his first Hogwarts letter. And after that life had never been the same for Harry.

Finally finding a place where he truly belonged at Hogwarts had been the most satisfying thing in his life. Well perhaps with the exception of forming a friendship with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, two other Hogwarts students. They had been there for him through thick and thin, and probably would forever; at least he hoped they would.

Harry frowned and pushed the dark thought away as it sought to un-focus him. And he desperately needed to focus himself. Ever since his return to Privet Drive two weeks ago Harry had set to work on studying Occlumency, the art of guarding the mind against outside penetration. And if anyone needed to learn to guard their mind against outside forces it was him.

He had lost too much to Voldemorts mind meddling, his godfather Sirius, only one but one was one too many for Harry. He was determined not to be a pawn in Volodemorts plans and twisted games anymore. Now was the time for him to rise up and actively fight Voldemort.

Almost everyday he received a new book about Occlumency from Flourish and Blotts, it cost him a pretty knut too. He wrote to the owner the moment he got home and asked him to send him every book he had on Occlumency and then order anymore that weren't in stock. And who would have thought there would be so many books on the subject. But no matter Harry read them all religiously, cover to cover. It made him feel rather like Hermione.

There was so much to learn on the subject, more than Snape had ever taught him that was for sure, he thought bitterly. There was more to it than simply emptying the mind before bed or when someone performed legilimens on you. It took practice to empty your mind before sleeping, relaxing the body as well as the mind was of paramount importance. In order to do this Harry had also ordered books on meditation and relaxation, they were mostly muggle books that he picked up at the local library.

He practiced his technique day and night and every other moment he had in between. And he had a lot of time on his hands. Even though Voldemort had been revealed to the rest of the wizarding world, his world was depressingly uneventful. Just like last summer he had very little contact with anyone, even though he was bound to send a letter to a member of the order every few days, he still felt cut off from them. The frequent letters held very little information for security purposes, just run of the mill things. 'How are you?' 'Don't leave home at night' 'Can't say much in this letter' Nothing interesting or new.

Last summer these sort of responses probably would have angered him, and in truth they still did, but with practice he learned to control it. Learned to let the anger wash over him like a wave and then let it go with calm breathing. Controlling emotions and thoughts was all about breathing, breathing and a calm mind.

His thoughts were just as hard for him to control and calm as his often roiling emotions. There was so much to think about now, Voldemort had been revealed, Death Eaters had been caught, dementors were on the lose, giants aligned themselves with dark wizards, the ministry had voted Cornelius Fudge out of office and called an election for a new minister of magic. And he wondered constantly what the order was up to, what they knew about Voldemorts plans, what he was supposed to be doing.

What was he supposed to do? It was a question that had run rampant through his mind for weeks. Ever since that fateful morning in Professor Dumbledore's office, when Dumbledore had told him about the prophecy, his prophecy. He wondered what he was supposed to do. How could he defeat Voldemort? Not even Dumbledore could and yet he was expected to do it or else let Voldemort win.

And he couldn't do that, no matter the challenge he couldn't let Voldemort win, he wouldn't let him win. Not ever.

For the time being his best course of action was to block Voldemort from his mind. And he had succeeded for the most part. Occasionally he felt the odd push at his mind that he'd never felt before, along with the usual pain in his scar. Sometimes it was more of a pull, Voldemorts emotions were probably pulling their minds together whenever he felt a strong emotion. But there were no more strange dreams, no more real life visions, all that was left now were his own thoughts and dreams.

His thoughts he was learning to contend with but his dreams were a totally different matter. All summer he kept reliving Sirius' death while he slept, how he had arched so gracefully before slowly falling through the veil. Or that moment when Hermione had been slashed across the chest by a Death Eaters curse, or the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort.

None of the books told him how to rid himself of nightmares or that not dreaming was even necessary to master Occlumency. All he knew was that he didn't want to see those things in his dreams anymore, where he couldn't control them.

Every night he would see these things in his dreams, and every time he woke sweating, panic stricken. He would slow his breathing, calm his mind and body, clear his mind and then go back to sleep. And then they would come back and he would be right back where he had started. It didn't make getting a good night's sleep very easy that was for sure.

But last night had been different, last night Harry was transported to a place he had never been in his dreams. A place of ultimate pleasure and blissful pain, a place where the scent of tasmin flowers and passion hung heavily in the air.

Harry smiled uncontrollably at the memory of the dream. It wasn't really a new experience, a wet dream, he was a teenage boy after all. But this one was completely different from the others, somehow it had felt almost real, as though the women had actually been there, touching him, kissing him, biting, scratching. He even felt strangely sore all over, like he had been running a race or something and even so he wasn't tired at all.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and let out a happy sigh, after so many miserable nights, last night had been a wonderful reprieve. He felt as though today was going to be different, better, well maybe not he was still at the Dursley's, but different.

And he was right.

Harry threw aside his tangled sheets and leapt out of bed, he gave a short moan as his aching muscles protested the movement but he paid it no mind, he was feeling rather frisky. He felt like he had so much energy bottled up inside him just waiting to get out. And yet his aching body continued to protest his movements. Perhaps he'd have a nice refreshing shower before he started the day.

Yes that was what he needed, a nice refreshing shower to start the day.

He marched to his door and threw it wide open and strode across the hall to the bathroom, not even bothering to check if Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia were about. He slammed the bathroom door behind him, maybe it would wake his cousin Dudley he thought maliciously. For unlike Harry, who was shunted out the door the moment Aunt Petunia woke, Dudley got to sleep in until noon or sometimes later.

The bathroom was blindingly white and clean, it took a while for Harry's eyes to adjust to the light. He winced against the pain and removed his pajamas with his eyes still shut. Blinking furiously he stumbled over to the shower and turned on the water and left it to heat up. He returned to the sink to brush his teeth and find a place for his glasses.

By the time he staggered back over to the counter his eyes had adjusted to the light and he could see again. He glanced at his reflection briefly before picking up his toothbrush; he froze in the act of putting paste on the bristles and slowly drew his gaze back up to the mirror.

The reflection that greeted him there was very different then the one he remembered seeing just last night.

And the moment that it registered in Harry's mind that it was actually him starring back from the mirror…he fainted.

Authors Note: Yes I know it's been too long, but my interest with Harry Potter seems to come and go. I just updated my other story so I guess you could say that I was in a writing mood. I'm sorry it's late, and that it's a cliffhanger. I do have the next chapter ready in my mind and will get to work on it right away.

Love

War