A/N: Okay, in this chapter, I tried to include as much information about the fifth book, as I could, and as you can see, I have changed a few things. Just a reminder, this is not the same Harry as you see in the 6th book, but a post-OotP Harry. I am sorry once again for the dramatic change, but this is how I pictured Harry being after Sirius's death. I probably even lessened the broodyness that normally accompanies this sort of thing, but all in all I tried, and that's all anyone can ask for.

Thanks,

JB

Chapter Two: Men and Mascara Always Run

The humid fog surrounding Number Four, Privet Drive was heavier than it had been all week. With each gasp of breath Harry Potter took, this fact was reminded of him. But the constant beat of his sneakers against the pavement and the light-headed feel of adrenaline pumping throughout his veins, convinced him that no matter what the weather, this was where he wanted to be.

In the past few weeks, Harry had found a new way of channeling his recent emotion into something productive. Before, he had continuously chastised health nuts and joggers for waking up at 5 A.M. to exercise for the heck of it. It had all seemed like such a waste of energy to him at the time, but now, as the moist air whipped his flushed face and the road sang him a soothing monotonous tune, he finally understood why people sacrificed their sleep to do this.

Not as if Harry had been doing much sleeping lately considering what had happened over his fifth school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only had his godfather died mysteriously and his first crush dumped him basically for a boy whom Harry had witnessed the murder of the year before, but he had learned that his life or death was prophesized by a drunk psychic not long before his parents died. It seemed as if his very existence was centered around people's lives ending, which, in retrospect, was somewhat true. But of course, if it weren't for his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, there was a slight chance that he would not even have any existence.

Before they had gotten out of school, Harry and his friends had been tricked into going into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic to supposedly 'save' Harry's godfather Sirius from the notorious Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but upon discovering that it was all a hoax, they tried to flee. Unfortunately, adding to the fact that this was where Harry lost his godfather, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna were all injured in their desperate attempt to escape.

As Harry rounded the corner back to his current living residence (he chose not to refer to it as 'home') with his aunt and uncle, he slowed his sprint down to a jog so that he wouldn't wake them. Not out of politeness, no, but out of the new-arisen fear of stirring up a confrontation. Since school let out, Harry had tried his very hardest to stay out of sight and out of mind to the Dursleys, and they seemed to prefer it that way as well. After the ill-mannered threat they received at King's Cross Station last May, they had been rather ignorant of Harry's presence at all. When before they would scream and throw objects at him, now they just pretended as if he wasn't even there, which was fine by him to say the least. Even Dudley seemed to be wary of Harry lately. After the run-in with the loose dementors last summer, he must have decided that the best thing to do was to stay out of the little magic boy's way. But even as Harry was beyond thankful for these things, it gave him much more free time than he knew what to do with. Usually, he would read letters from Hermione or Ron, or he would catch up on his summer homework, but that still left half of the day, which in his opinion, gave him too much free time to think. Running was something he really enjoyed, mainly on account of it made it very hard to process a complete thought, so there was no constant questions of "Why, How, When" flitting through his mind. But he couldn't run all the time, and this made it very difficult to suppress his feelings from the past year, feelings which he was ashamed to admit he had.

Lack of sleep and malnutrition— resulting from Dudley's new diet— was starting to take its toll on Harry, emotionally and physically. He knew this, yet he could do nothing about it. He was developing dark circles underneath his eyes and frown lines were starting to form around his mouth. His face was beginning to resemble a sixty-year-old man rather than a teenage boy. But lately he really couldn't bring himself to give much of a flying flip whether or not he looked presentable. His life lay in shambles at his feet, and he accepted it without a fight. To be blunt about it, his past was full of death and despair, his present was full of death and despair, and it was prophesized that his future would be full of death and despair, so why not embrace it? The only thing he could do was lie and wait until he could move out of his relatives' house and face Voldemort for the last time, which wasn't at all something he looked forward to.

Harry stopped at his aunt ad uncle's mailbox and stared at the house in which they slept soundly, with no worries of death or destruction ever finding them. He was almost envious. They had no great destiny to fulfill or war to wage. Their greatest concern was of someone of high social class finding out that they had a freak of a nephew living with them. Suddenly, it struck Harry that he really didn't want to go back into his room to read up on ancient goblin dictators for the ghostly Professor Binns. He looked out into the empty street that lay ahead of him and began walking.

Walking without aim was something he didn't do often, mainly because it gave his anguished mind free range to think of whatever it pleased. If there was one aspect of Harry's personality that had grown over the summer, it was his fear of letting his thoughts wander toward things he had no interest in contemplating furthermore.

So in an attempt to drown out the words in his head, Harry stopped at the nearby park that the aforementioned dementors had attacked he and his cousin Dudley last summer. Of course it had all been a power-hungry plot to get him out of the way, so that his ex-teacher, Delores Umbridge and current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge could appear as if they had the ongoing war between the Minisrty and Voldemort under control. Just the thought of the two of them sent Harry's insides into a sultry rage.

But, within the past few weeks there had been a great buzz among the wizarding citizens that Fudge was to be replaced. The Daily Prophet only dispensed vague information as to who was chosen to succeed him, but only because the Ministry would rather not have it known that their beloved minister may possibly be losing the election. Whoever it was that was campaigning against Fudge, was an undoubted shoe-in after the incident within the Department of Mysteries. People blamed Fudge for all of the unfortunate recent events, and despite persuading news articles, nothing could convince them otherwise.

Harry scanned the streets for any sign of authority figure that could mistake him for a vandal before he awkwardly vaulted over the locked park gate and trodded off toward the battered swingset.

He chose the one that seemed the less likely to crumble at his mere touch and, with a hop, sat down on the seat.

It took him a moment to recognize the cooling sensation near his buttocks, and as it slowly dawned on him that the front of his jeans were becoming damp with morning dew, he yelped in shock and bolted off of it, cursing softly under his breath as he did so.

Turning around to make sure no one witnessed this, he wiped the seat of his pants off in a hopeless attempt to rid them of any excess water. But as he did so, he noticed an extremely damp piece of parchment sticking out from his back pocket.

He reached into it and pulled out the long sheet of paper engraved with the Hogwarts wax seal. Suddenly it struck him that he had forgotten to read it, and in his haste to get out of his house, he had placed it in his pocket. He obviously hadn't examined it or else he would have realized that this was from his school.

Harry opened it up to reveal a list of supplies he would be needing for the following year, and a date and time when the train left for Hogwarts. He flipped the paper over to check for any additional information on the back when another piece of parchment fell out of it.

Harry reached down to pick up the small sheet of paper and slit it open curiously.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades Fail Grades

Outstanding (O) Poor (P)

Exceeds Expectations (E)Dreadful (D)

Acceptable (A)

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy A

Care of Magical Creatures E

Charms E

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Divination P

Herbology E

History of Magic D

Potions O

Transfiguration E

Suddenly, Harry realized that he was forgetting to breathe. He reread the piece of parchment over and over again, squinting his eyes in his wander that maybe he was hallucinating . He made it... He had aced Potions! He had the required grades to become an Auror! How he had done it, however, he had no idea. He read over it once again refusing to blink as he did this, and for the first time in weeks he grinned like a six-year-old overlooking a gigantic cookie. He had only failed two courses, and they had no say in his becoming an Auror! He had done well beyond what he thought he could, and was darn well proud of himself for it. After passing out during his History of Magic Exam and having not one Divinating molecule in his entire being, even those tests seemed justified. His smile widened until he could feel his jaw ache, and he abruptly felt the instinct to run back to his room, pull out his quill and parchment, and write Ron, Hermione, and Sirius a letter.

But suddenly the grin faded from his face, and was soon replaced by his newfound trademark grimace. Harry could already feel the guilt rising up inside his throat, and, as this was his usual manner, he pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a shaky breath. This was how he spent his time lately. It seemed somewhat pointless to him to embellish in his so-called 'success' when the real gist of his self-worth was reflected upon the missing area in his heart where Sirius had once filled. He had failed, and no test transcript could change that. Harry squinted his eyes in frustration as he felt them cloud up once more. But as was his normal routine, he shook his head and mentally reprimanded himself for being so emotional. Sirius would have never wanted Harry to cry over him. Instead he would have told him to be a man and fight it. He had to be strong, not only for himself, but for everyone else as well. What would his friends think if they saw him fall to pieces over something like this? That he couldn't take care of himself? That he couldn't take care of them? He could not have that. Harry was a man now, and it was time he started acting like one.

So, in order to make this point unto himself, he leapt nimbly once again over the park gate and proceeded to do as he generally did. He ran.