A/N: this is my second attempt at this chapter, I've changed a lot and tried to make things make more sense, but it still seems very vague and not as precise as I would like it to be. I may have to rewrite it again soon, but as for now, I plan to move on to chpt. 2 and hopefully be able to draw things together with that, so please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so please do not sue me.

Chpt. 1 – That Place Between Dreams and Awake

'Perfect, undefeated, the golden boy…the list goes on and on. Everybody thinks that it must be so great…the fame, the star treatment…but nobody really sees the truth. Look at me, the world may think I'm perfect, but perfect is only as far as the eye can see. They'll never truly understand what it really means to be the-boy-who-lived…'

Harry stared blankly at a spot on the wall somewhere past the podium as his history of magic professor droned on in his usual, ethereal, monotone voice. Two seats away, what appeared to be a large bush of light brown hair bobbed up and down in time to the scratching of a quill which was most likely the cause of the parchment that trailed off of the desk and onto the floor below, covered in notes. Between the two sat a head of flaming red hair that sparkled ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight that wove its way down from the tall windows near the roof of the room. The face that accompanied this hair was also blank, just as Harry's and most of the rest of the class for that matter. The only difference was that Ron had his head propped gently on one balled fist, his eyes closed and his breathing slow, obviously asleep. A small amount of drool had just appeared at the corner of Ron's mouth when a strange series of events occurred.

Across the room, there was a rather loud thud, a girl screamed, four people jumped to their feet, Ron's face struck the desk as he pulled his fist from beneath his chin in surprise, and, finally, Professor Binns turned so quickly to the source of the scream that he stepped through his podium, quite by accident. The chaos that ensued lasted no more than the entire span of two minutes, yet to Harry time had been an issue as of late, and here it seemed to last forever. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, the scream he heard only moments before echoed and remained, yet it was distorted, it wasn't the same scream, but it wasn't wholly different either. Harry's eyes glazed over as he sunk back into the recesses of his mind and he was vaguely aware of yet another scream somewhere back in the room.

"She's dead! She's dead!"

Back across the room, Lavender, Parvati Patil's best friend stood hollering at the top of her lungs while Parvati lie nearby on the ground, her unconscious form twisted in a very unnatural shape. Lavender's reaction had nearly reached hysterics before Professor Binns responded.

"Now let's not be so dramatic, she has merely been rendered unconscious."

Professor Binns' voice remained his usual monotone throughout his short announcement. Beckoning a boy from across the room who's name Harry never could quite recall, the Professor quickly said in a voice which was obviously meant to be loud enough for all to hear,

"Would you please aid me in transporting Miss Patil to the hospital wing…As for the rest of you, class is dismissed for today."

With that, Professor Binns proceeded to walk through the door, not bothering to open it for the young boy who now carried the unconscious form of Parvati Patil over one shoulder. Due to this the boy had to wait until another student was so kind as to open the door before he was able to exit the room, hauling the corpse like Parvati with him. The now rather befuddled class spent the next few seconds casting confused glances from one to the next before slowly filing out of the room, except for Harry Potter that is.

Harry remained in his seat, his eyes glazed and his face blank as if nothing had even happened. Yet in his mind, Harry was nowhere near Hogwarts' school of witchcraft and wizardry. He was back in his days at grade school. He watched in horror as his first shot at a friend crumbled before his very eyes. A girl his own age had taken a liking to him and done what the rest of the class seemed afraid to do, which was speak to him. But in his nervousness something had begun to churn deep within Harry's chest until it seemed he couldn't hold it back anymore. Suddenly, the little snow globe that Harry had been playing with exploded as he attempted to hand it to the little girl. She only said one more word to him, or rather, screamed it.

"Freak!"

In the back of his mind a girl screamed and a hand flew at his face. Somehow the mental scenario managed to break free and Harry suddenly flung his hands up to guard his face. Hermione and Ron, who had been attempting to wake Harry from his apparent stupor, stumbled backward with the sudden movement. Ron tripped over the parchment Hermione had been writing on only moments beforehand and fell hard onto his backside. Rising from his rather unceremonious position, Ron proceeded to rub both his sore behind and his sore head while Hermione moved back to stand in front of Harry.

"Harry, is everything okay?"

The words sounded slurred and hard to understand in Harry's now muddled brain. Eventually the meaning behind the words sunk in and Harry found himself able to respond.

"Yah…I was just…thinking."

Just like Hermione's, Harry's words sounded slurred and dumb in his own mind, and by the look on his friends faces, they obviously sounded the same to them as well. Harry shook his head viciously, causing his raven like hair to whip around and reveal the lightening bolt scar that marked him as who he is…the-boy-who-lived. Absent mindedly, Harry reached up to cover said mark, but stopped half-way through the motion to grab one arm with the other and pull his cloak sleeve down before reaching up to brush his hair back into place. Forcing a smile at his two best friends, Harry notices the twin looks of worry that cross their face and once again assures them that he's fine. This time his words sound more normal, more solid, and are apparently more convincing to his friends.

Harry knew that the matter wasn't over, but there seemed to be a mutual agreement between them all that now was not the best time to talk. Attempting to lighten the now very somber mood that hovered heavily between the three friends, conversation that seemed more fitting of them began to be made.

"I can't believe that class was cancelled because of a feinting spell. I mean, seriously, couldn't he have just sent her to…"

Harry tuned out Hermione's ramblings about class being canceled and sunk back into his own mind, remembering as best he could what had happened in the classroom. He told them that he was fine, but that was so far from the truth. Something had happened, had been happening, and he didn't like it, but there was only one way to stop it, and he couldn't very well do that right now…or could he? Harry hung his head shamefully at the prospect. It was only for the summer; he had promised himself. He had promised himself that once he got to Hogwarts he was done, but it was beginning to look like he would have to postpone that arrangement.

Their arrival at the portrait of the fat lady brought Harry out of his daze as Ron quickly stated the password to allow them access. Once through the portrait hole, Hermione headed towards the girl's dormitory to drop her books off in her room so Harry and Ron moved off toward the boy's staircase. Once inside the boys' room, Ron turned to face his long time friend.

"Are you sure everything's alright mate? I mean, you looked rather wonked out back there."

Ron's question, as unexpected as it was, caught Harry totally off guard. Harry had hoped that he would at least have until Hermione got back from the girl's dorms before he had to start answering questions. Quickly plastering a smile on his face, Harry responded.

"Yah, I was just a bit out of it."

"I know what you mean, Binns' classes are boring as hell, but still, that was more than just boredom. I don't want to pry but…"

Ron never got to finish whatever argument he was trying to put forth as Harry whirled on him unexpectedly.

"It's nothing Ron! Just leave it along!"

The look of shock and rejection that crossed Ron's face was too much for Harry. As tears welled up in Harry's eyes at the prospect of hurting his friend, he spun about on one foot, whipping his cloak out behind him in a manner more suited to Snape in a temper. Trying no to let Ron here the quiver in his voice, Harry stated,

"I'm going for a walk…I need to think."

And with that, Harry stormed from the dormitory. Passing a rather surprised Hermione on his way out of the common room, Harry didn't even listen to whatever she may have said and left her standing in the portrait hole has he climbed through and rushed down the stairs of Gryffindor tower. It didn't take Harry long to find an exit onto the school grounds and he quickly made his way across the grass to the edge of the lake. Moving into a grove of bushes he had found the year before, Harry made quick work of disappearing somewhere between the green of the grass and the green of the leaves around him. The only way that someone would be able to see him here is if they were directly across the lake, and then they wouldn't be close enough to be any the wiser.

He still couldn't believe that anyone could effect him this much, but that's how this all started, and that's what kept it going. It had all started at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry had fallen in love, but that was nothing more than a joke in his own mind…

'Who would want something like you?'

'Love? Who would ever love you?'

The voices rolled around inside his head in a whirlwind of emotion and confusion. The faces of his aunt, uncle, and cousin played games with his mind that he still didn't understand, but there was always one way to make them disappear. Harry fiddled with something pinned to the inside cuff of his robes as a tear ran down his face. He had to make it stop. He had to make it go away.

There was a sharp pain, then another, then the voices started to fade away. A great emptiness filled Harry and his hand felt warm and sticky before all feeling disappeared entirely. He hovered somewhere between dreams and awake, wondering exactly what it meant to be here. He thought he was done with this, and he hated himself for it, but anything was better than wanting what you could never have. Anything was better than feeling the daggers slice at his soul every time those eyes fell on him. Another tear slipped down Harry's cheek as he whispered,

"I'm sorry…"

Then all went black.

A/N: As I said, it's still kind of vague, but please review and tell me what you think I should change and such to make it better. Any reviews are appreciated, unless they are flames, then they will be used to power my weapons of mass destruction. Thanks for reading.

MK