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A/N I Think that I updated pretty fast , this chapter was awkward to write, so I am not at all that happy with it. But anyways if any one has any prank ideas or something like that PLEASE tell me.

Also Happy Forth of July for those that live in the U.S.A

Disclaimer; If you can recognize anything in this it is most likely owned by some one else. Harry Potter and co. is owned by J.K. Rowing.

Rating; R- It changed because of the whole suicide thing in this chapter, but if it seems too high, tell me

Summery; 4th year. Coinciding with a plan of Voldemort's gone array James Potter is brought back from the dead. Currently at the Dursleys Harry is having one of the worst summers yet, how long can he hold on?

Also in this chapter there is a some what gory scene, so if you get to it and you don't think that you can handle it, then just skip over it…but I don't think that it is that bad.

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REVIEW RESPONCES

Amones of Magic Wow long review! thanks! Also double thank you for the ideas, they are very good ones. Finals really suck mine weren't hard just long and tireing . And sorry you didn't like the cliff- there's kinda another one in this chapter

Also thanks to;

Shalaren

dweem-angel

moonypadfoot

Kryzt

charl1e

kirsty2

FroBoy

rosiegirl

THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

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All in the life

Wake up every morning, do your makeup, brush your hair,

prepare for the day that's coming on, and pretend that your not there.

Sing that same old song that you're singin' every day.

Repetition, the key to our society, with just our freedom to pay.

And now all of us are jaded, we all succumb to grey,

not noticing that our lives, are the same damn thing each day.

But we'd give that all up for a moment, to feel anything-even strife,

'Cause we'd do anything to feel again, but then again that's life.

We go to work each day, to waste away ourselves,

trying not to submit to temptation, no matter how the dark compels.

And we are nothing, lost in the abyss. Our endless sleep to be woken,

for we are a mule, a slave to break- but aren't we already broken?

And now all of us are jaded, we all succumb to grey,

not noticing that our lives, are the same damn thing each day.

But we'd give that all up for a moment, to feel anything-even strife,

'Cause we'd do anything to feel again, but then again that's life.

And we go to bed each night, waiting for what the next day has in store,

but when we look deep down, we know it will be like the one that came before.

And yet we still play this little game, some how keep carrying on.

but life's a confusing subject you see, for you can not miss it till it's gone.

(Another poem, by yours truly.)

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CHAPTER 7

EVERY DAMN DAY

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Harry knew that he should have guessed that it would turn out this way, it always did. Having feelings really were nothing more then a pain in the ass. History seemed to constantly repeat itself around him. First the Dursleys, then the world (though they constantly came back), and now his father, he also wouldn't be surprised if his friends turned their back on him as well. Trusting had again led him no where.

Harry was clad in the clothes that he had been wearing for some time, the same clothes that he had been given in the hospital wing. His bare feet froze against the stone floor of the castle, but Harry was in no mood to take any notice.

His father hated him.

That thought just replayed constantly in his mind. He had actually gotten back a member of his family and then it all went to hell. But it always did. But for once he could not contribute this to Voldemort, well actually he could but Harry was dead set that his father blamed everything on him.

In the back of his mind Harry also laid some of the blame of his parents' death on him self, but that was in the far reaches of his mind. Then for his father to actually say that it was his fault….well that was one more straw to the camels back. All this guilt was really pushing him down, and he really couldn't take any more of it.

His father was completely right, his mother need not have died- he had heard as much from the memories the dementors sent him. His father may have been given life again, but his mother…fate had spent a lot of time dealing against her. It was his entire fault…Voldemort wasn't after his mother; no he was only after him. His father didn't want any relationship with him, and for good reason. Harry by this time was extremely distraught. Maybe he should do his father a favor.

Harry made his way down the many different paths and hallways of Hogwarts; he was lost in his faults. So lost that he didn't hear all the portraits around him asking him if he was alright.

Most of them thought him very rude.

All of his life Harry was used to being constantly belittled, but he grew used to it- that was his place as far as he was concerned. It was simple then.

Now however, every thing became so complicated- and at the same time nothing had changed. Harry had been thrust into a whole new world, where just it's simple existence was something that the Dursleys would beat him for even thinking about. Everything here was what he grew up knowing was evil. This world has expectations of him as well, ones which were too large for him to fill. Their idea of him was larger then he may ever be.

But whether he was with the Dursleys or in this world they still never really cared about him. Again Harry became used to this. Save them- they're grateful, but then after one mistake they will think you the scum of the earth. They were all two faced bastards, and they made Harry their scapegoat; they couldn't find it in them to blame their beloved ministry, so they placed the unwanted blame on Harry.

The Dursleys, the wizardry world- they were the same thing.

Well, except for one thing, the Dursleys were better then them. And that was one thing that Harry never thought that he would say that but it was true. Even though the Dursleys treated him so horribly with out pretending, that set them apart. They didn't pretend. The wizardry world pretended to like him so that he would save them…the Dursleys never did that. The fact that they were all faking hurt so much more then anything that the Dursleys could do.

Nothing seemed to change for Harry, hated and beaten then sent to being hated and used.

Harry slowed his pace as he looked around his person. Looking at the general vicinity of where he was, and what possible places that he could go, he made up his mind.

Voldemort was going to get the wish that he had been wishing for, for some time now. His father would no longer have to look at his face. His friends and his…family would finally be free. And the world, well they would lose their hero, but they could just screw them selves. This wasn't the first time Harry had thought of death, but it was the first time that he was serious about the whole idea.

Harry was now on the seventh floor, looking at a blank wall. Behind him was the painting of Barnabus the balmy trying to teach trolls to tap dance.

"Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not."

Concentrating really hard on a place that he could be left alone where no one would find him, he began to pace. He didn't want any one to find them because if they did they would stop him from doing what he was about to do. Be it from them not wanting to let their savior die or from the guilt they may get from letting him pick him off. But either way, being discovered was unacceptable.

When he next looked up there was a door awaiting him. Somberly he entered the room of requirements.

Entering he looked about the room. It was practically empty, but was full of shadows. One really couldn't see most of the room, it was just darkness. Harry was however able to spot a bed in the corner. It was quite large and was all black, a black veil hanged around it, pinned at the posts. The covers were made, of what Harry could guess, black silk, the pillows were as well.

Not wanting to trip on his way to the bed he wished for a minimal light source. At the far end of the wall a small torch lit up, though the light was sub par Harry could now make his way around the room freely.

Sitting down lightly on the bed Harry let himself down slightly allowing himself to relax a little bit. Thinking to himself he wondered exactly how he was going to go about doing this. Muggles normally took a gun to their head, or they would jump off some building, but those just seemed to scream for attention. Harry wasn't sure of the extent that magic had for healing if he jumped off the building, or if he would really die. And he really didn't have a gun on hand.

Suddenly an idea popped into his head; quietly he rolled his sleeves up a little past his elbow. Removing the charms he had on his arms he ran his finger up and down his arms, feeling each of them. His trophies.

He knew that he could kill himself easily with most likely one simple cut. It seemed the most dramatic way to go, but then again- Harry's life revolved around dramatics. It was also would give the world one hell of a slap on the face, this kind of death would lead no question as to whether it was suicide or not. It would sure make a statement.

Summoning up his courage he visualized a dagger and gave off the feeling that he needed it. Then low and behold a small, finely crafted dagger appeared in his hand. It really was beautiful. The handle was a pitch black colour; small vines slithered in and around it. The blade itself was…perfect. It was equal to the length of the handle, and was spotless and shinning. It looked sharp. Harry brought his finger up to the tip of the blade and pressed down lightly; he felt a small pain and looked to see that his finger was covered in blood. Yes, it was sharp.

Thinking as to whether or not he should leave a note, he thought against it. They would be able to guess his motive- if they cared.

Harry laid him self down against the black silk pillows he brought the knife up and dragged it lightly across the skin of his wrist. He was barely pressing down at all, but the top layer of skin was being dragged off. Not enough to draw blood however. Thinking it over, he decided that he might as well get it over with.

Getting comfortable he placed the edge of the blade in the center at the beginning of his wrists. Applying a greater amount of pressure Harry gave a deep sigh as he felt the blood begin to flow. He began to trace his vein along his arm only stopping when he got to the elbow. His dark red blood began to flow down his arm looking like a deranged spider web. Even though that arm was becoming very weak he was able to do the same to his other arm.

He stared as both normally creamy white arms became drenched in crimson. The trail of blood made its way down his arms, gathering at the base, then dripping slowly to the ground. The bleeding was irregular at first, spurting blood out of his arms at the beat of his heart, but then it started to smooth out.

Cotton started to form in Harry's mind, everything seemed to slow down somewhat.

Harry lifted his arm into the air and the blood's trail changed course to flow down towards him. Bringing his tongue up to the raining blood, he dragged the muscle around lapping up his own trail. It tasted strangely sweet to Harry, but the underline copper, metallic taste still shown through. The taste you get if you ever suck on a metal coin.

Mesmerized. That's the only way he could describe the feeling that he was having. The colour was so…amazing, so red, there were so many ways he could say red. Crimson, scarlet, vermillion, rubicund, magenta, fuchsia, and so many, many more.

Harry chuckled, this feeling was so wonderful, he was floating, he was flying, and he simply felt happy.

He was almost positive that he had made the cut deep enough so that the blood would not clot. As long as he was not found he should be able to get this through. Almost laughing again, he remembered that no one would care if they found him anyways. He was a killer- now he was getting what he deserved. He wondered briefly if they would even bother to have a funeral for him, but he really didn't care.

His blood was every where; it covered his arms, his clothes, and the bed around him.

Feeling very light headed, he decided to close his eyes. It was almost done, he was almost free, and he would be. The end was coming soon he could fly; soon he could be in peace. So he just let the feeling carry him off, and everything went black.

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James Potter couldn't sleep. He accepted that by now. For the last hour he had been tossing and turning, trying everything to get to sleep. Changing clothes, fluffing pillows, changing positions- Nothing! Sleep just was not coming to him tonight; it was almost as if he was being kept awake for something.

Looking over at his room mates, he saw them sleeping peacefully. He just continued to stare at the wall, thinking of what to do.

Resolving that he was not going to be getting any sleep this night, he stood up, put on his glasses, and decided to go check on his son. Stretching slightly he walked towards the door and began walking down the stairs. Rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, they hurt some because of the sudden transfuse of light. He made is way over to the couch and placed his arms on the back. Yawning loudly he took note that even though he could not fall asleep- he was still in desperate need of it.

It was then that he looked down to where his son should be…but wasn't. James paused and thought for a moment, shouldn't his son still be there. He wasn't upstairs and…James suddenly came to his senses and ran back up the stairs. Running into the room where he should have been sleeping he jumped over to Remus and shook him awake.

"…J-James?" Remus began, he sounded very groggy, until his eyes snapped open fast.

"Remus, get up, Harry's not where we left him." James was sounding a little disoriented. He was jumping on the balls of his feet, and when he saw Remus rising he ran over to Sirius and repeated the action.

"James, don't get your knickers in a bunch quite yet, Harry has quite the reputation for wandering around the school after hours. I'm not sure if you should be panicking." Remus tried to comfort his friend.

"Yeah, Jamsie." Sirius paused to give off a loud yawn, "We used to do the same if you remember."

"I know, yes I know, but I have this really bad feeling right now, and this is really not helping. So get off your ass and help me find him." James ran out of the room, not even waiting for his friends to follow.

Both Sirius and Remus chalked their friends' concern to the fact that he had just gotten his son back, and so he was over reacting. They both followed anyway, wondering where Harry could have gone- out of plain curiosity. James was waiting for them at the exit of the common room, they followed him out. He was running down the hallways, and the two had no choice but to follow him.

They continued running for some time until they were suddenly stopped.

"Isn't it a bit too late to be out, I mean really, you're waking us all up." They looked over to see a portrait of an elder wizard.

"Um…what?"

"Why are all of you walking around the hallways at this time of night? You must be the third person tonight we've seen."

"Who else?" Remus asked.

"There was that one gangly fellow; he told us that he was making his way up towards the headmaster's room. Then right before you was this younger lad, rude one he was. Chucked us off, ignored us he did." The portrait now looked irritated. "Now you three came past." He stopped.

Sirius, James, and Remus looked at each other, all drawing the same conclusion.

"And um… which way did the younger boy head in." Remus asked him.

"Down that way," he pointed to the left, "About half an hour ago." James and Sirius both went off in that direction, leaving Remus to leave thanks to the portrait.

The three of them went down the hallways, stopping to ask portraits where the boy had gone. They were led to a corridor on the seventh floor, at a blank wall. James and Sirius were both stumped at what to do. Remus however, recognized the room from something Harry had mentioned long before.

"The room of requirements…." Remus said quietly.

The other two both looked at him, a questioning air about them. Remus quickly explained in brief what he knew about the room.

"What would he be doing in there?" Sirius sounded rather shaky.

"I'm not sure, but let's get our selves in," James concentrated on desperately wanting to get into the room, until a door way appeared.

Quickly James ran in, but stopped on the beat after he looked to the bed at the end of the room. His mind drew a whole bunch of conclusions; he started making his way over to the bed. Remus and Sirius entered both stopping when they saw the bed as well.

The same thought ran through all of their heads; what the hell.

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A/N This chapter really did not go the way that I wanted it too ;; And sorry about the cliffy (the halfway cliffy anyways) but I think that I wrote a good amount for this chapter, at least I hope so.

I also bumped up the rating to 'R' cause of the death attempt scene, but if that seems to hard please tell me so.

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