Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K does. This is simply what I do with my free time. :P

To my beloved Reviewers: THANK YOU! Ahhh, it is so nice to receive praise for work. Ha ha! Seriously, I love hearing from you guys! Unfortunately, it's been so long since I updated I've gotten who reviewed the last chapter, so just thanks to EVERYONE! Heh heh!

One note, though: a certain reviewer decided to give me a little list, in her review, of how she expected the story to unfold. I would like to state, here and now, that this is MY story, with MY ideas and MY effort. So, please, if you have suggestions I do not mind hearing them, but please do note that, as far as I may take them into account, they will not be effecting this pre-planned story in ANY WAY. If you have an idea for a story - WRITE YOUR OWN. Darkest Changes is MY story and I will not be changing any element of it to suit the expectations of a single person. You either like MY story or you do not.

Sorry if that sounded at all braggish or big-headed...just bugs me when people start ordering me around!

Anyway, you've been waiting long enough! Here is the 4th Chapter:P

Chapter 4 – A Lost Cause

Thoughts forming and falling away, summed up but never realised…was this a dream? It seemed unreal and distant, like he was floating in and out of sequences and streams of images he could not understand, didn't recognise…

'Remember, Harry, always keep your guard up – never trust them. Friends are for fools.' The voice spoke in his head…this was a memory, of a time a long while back, a time he had both hated and loved.

Just like family…

Had it been? Had those people…been his friends? His family? Was it possible to call the relationship he had had with them a friendship? All the arguments, the fights…yet hadn't he always felt like he had belonged with them?

'Don't be afraid to use even the darkest of the arts, Harry. Always remember, your enemy is the only thing that matters – the muggles, the others – they mean nothing. Your target is your world.' That voice once more, of the only man he had ever looked up to, ever respected…his master, his mentor…the closest thing he had ever experienced to parental love…the nearest thing to a father he would ever know.

He felt groggy as he opened his eyes. His body was filled with a dull ache that reached deep into his bones and seemed to have made home there. He didn't want to move, but there was an alarm blaring in his head, despite how tired he felt.

Everything looked blurry. The room was dark, illuminated faintly by a thin strip of moonlight invading through a gap in the thin curtains that hung so limp over the windows.

This place is familiar. He thought to himself, sitting up and groaning as he realised this was the room he had been in before he made his bid for freedom. He was back there, how?

'Dumbledore.' He seethed, his hands unconsciously curling into tight fists and trembling with rage. 'How dare they do this to me?' he hissed to the darkness.

'Aren't you one to talk, Mr Unforgivables?' a snide voice crackled out. It followed its own sentence with a snigger that it made no attempt to muffle.

'Shut the hell up.' Harry snapped at the blank canvas. 'What's the point of you?' he asked, only partly rhetorical. 'Were you made just to hang there and piss everyone off? I dunno why no one ripped you down ages ago!'

'I'd like to see you try, you wandless little snot.' The picture replied, with a casual air to its insult.

'I'll tear you down with my bare hands!' Harry warned it. The picture merely scoffed, before silence reigned down once more, and Harry was sure the inhabitant, invisible though it was, had left the frame to lurk somewhere else.

'All cowards run from confrontation.' Harry whispered to himself, though it was more of a recital. 'Only cowards.' He finished.

He stood in front of the bed, silhouetted against the moonlight, a silent shade blending with the rest of the shadows. His only movements were his hands, still shaking. What was he going to do? He was trapped, imprisoned…he was encased in a house with moronic, but powerful wizards. All of whom had every desire to strip down every shred of information he could give them and examining it inch-by-inch.

He paced for a while, trying to walk out the fear that had started to rise. It started in his stomach and worked its way into his throat. He felt physically sick, and his skin became clammy.

'Pull yourself together.' He commanded himself, sitting down on the side of his bed and putting his head in his hands, closing his eyes to the night and letting the silence fill him. 'You're better than this. You were taught to be better than this.'

He bit his bottom lip, sinking his teeth in deeper as the pain, humiliation and fear flooded through him so completely that he felt he would drown in it. He had an urge to cry, but he forced it back down into the deepest regions of his soul. He hadn't shed a tear in years, and he wasn't about to do so now.

He tasted warm, coppery blood in his mouth, and released his lip, which stung as it began to swell.

He opened his eyes, and though there was no one there to witness it, they burned with a fiery determination that had been ignited long ago – born of a rage never slain, a thirst never quenched, it built up inside of him once more, eradicating the fear and isolation that threatened him.

I am better than this.

There was a change in him that they could all identify, that morning, when they released him from the confines of his allocated room. Harry Potter was still walking proud and tall, still stubborn…but something was different.

It was Lupin who first noticed it, and confided to Sirius that the boy was looking far more…determined, than he had before. Sirius brushed the observation aside, saying that Harry was probably still smarting from his defeat.

Harry sat at the table, just like he had before. His eyes held steady a light blue gaze from an old man with the presence to rival thousands. Not that Harry was bothered like this.

'I do not wish to go round in circles.' Dumbledore said, speaking directly to Harry. 'I have no doubt that you will be as unco-operative today, as you were yesterday. I realise that we could do this every day, and still get nowhere. I am going to ask only one thing of you, Harry.'

Harry inclined his head, ready to hear what this man was going to request.

'Voldemort is back, as I told you. He rose about a month ago, ready to ascend his throne that had been snatched from him all those years ago, when he attempted to murder you. The Ministry has chosen to ignore his ascension, as is only fitting for them. We have had our spies in operation-'

'Ask the damn question, already!' Harry snapped, angrily. His eyes burned, his anger being fuelled by the iron-hard resignation boiling in his soul.

'Yes.' Dumbledore said, choosing to ignore the less-than-polite curtness in the boy before him. 'We want…and we need, Harry…you. The Order of the Phoenix has a great many working within it, but you are a key element. You are, after all, The Boy Who Lived…'

'And the "Chosen One".' Harry added, feeling a stab of pleasure at the irritated look on Black's face as he mentioned his second title.

'Harry, do you know what the Prophecy spoke of?' Dumbledore asked.

'Of course I do.' Harry said, straightening up. 'And I might as well tell you straight off – I'm not interested in your Order, or Voldemort. The whole lot of you can shove it, you're on your own.'

'Voldemort still wants you dead!' Black spat, seeming to finally erupt out of his silence. He looked a little red in the face, a possible side-effect from having held his tongue for so long.

'Correction,' Harry replied, cockily, 'your sources have ascertained that Voldemort probably still wants me dead, like he did a long while ago – do you know what the Prophecy said?'

'Don't get smarmy with me, boy-' Black began, but Dumbledore held up a hand to signal the other man to quiet down.

'We are aware of the contents of the Prophecy, Harry.' Dumbledore said to him.

'Great – go find the other lucky little shit and lemme go.' Harry said, with a flash of an insincerely innocent smile.

'Hey!' Black snapped, waggling a finger at Harry in a condescending manner than instantly riled the boy and jabbed at his temper.

'Don't treat me like a little kid!' Harry yelled.

'Don't act like one!' Black replied, getting to his feet.

'Just because I don't have a wand doesn't make me defenceless, arsehole.' Harry said, getting to his own feet and glaring across the table at the older man, who had both his hands on the surface of the mahogany and was leaning over, his eyes flashing, just like Harry's.

'I dunno where it all went wrong,' Black said, sneering, 'but you've been seriously screwed up…'

'Maybe you should have done something, then!' Harry yelled, fiercely.

'This argument is getting us nowhere. Sirius, sit down.' Dumbledore said, with a level tone that, nonetheless, still indicated his authority. The man hesitated, but then took his place back in his seat. 'Harry?' the old man asked, looking at the boy.

'I'm joining your bloody Order.' Harry told him, remaining standing.

'We cannot make you.' Dumbledore conceded.

'Damn straight.' The youth snapped back. Black opened his mouth, but once quick glance from Dumbledore kept his comment held back. Harry gave the man a look of derisive scorn at how well trained the man was.

'It is childish to squabble amongst ourselves.' Dumbledore said, quietly.

'Hey, amongst what-now?' Harry said, blinking at the old man. 'I thought I just made it pretty clear I'm not one of you lot. You can't keep me here – I'll escape, I'll blast my way out.'

'Didn't get too far last time, did you?' Black snapped, half to himself.

'I seem to remember bringing you down pretty quick and easy.' Harry fired back, without missing a beat. Black seemed to shake, his tangled mane of black locks quivering with anger.

'Sirius!' Dumbledore warned.

'He's no good to us!' Black yelled. 'He's might be their son, but he's nothing compared to them! Nothing! We should throw him out on his ass and let Voldemort have him!'

Silence pressed in on them after this statement. Dumbledore looked reflective and thoughtful, almost as though he had not heard Black's outburst, though the man was panting from shouting. Lupin, lurking in the corner, was sliding his gaze from person to person.

'At least one of you knows a lost cause when he sees it.' Harry said. 'Give me my wand and let me go.'

'Sirius.' Dumbledore said. Black waited for a moment, then glanced over to Lupin and nodded once.

Lupin, his face resigned at the decision of the two other men, reached into his pocket and withdrew the long shaft of wood. He held the wand out to Harry, handle first, and watched the boy take it with a definitive look of triumph on his young face.

'I hope you realise, Harry, that you are leaving our protection.' Dumbledore said, as Harry turned to leave.

'And I couldn't be happier.' The boy snapped back. 'I got places to go and people to see.' He turned to them, winked and saluted in mock respect. 'Catch'cha later.'

He strode through the corridor leading to the exit with that smile still high on his face, and nothing could take it away from him. He was walking away. He had stood up to them and now he was walking away. Not even a fight.

And what should I do now? His thoughts seemed to ask.

'Time to check in with an old friend.' Harry muttered to himself, as he cast the spells and released himself from the house.

He descended the steps into the bright sunlight and began his long journey to Draco Malfoy's house.

Okay, there yah go! I hope it wasn't too much like the first chapter...I wanted to show how easy it was for Harry to leave the Headquarters of the Order. Trust me, everything has importance when I write it:D

Hope yah liked it, and please R&R as it's my inspiration to continue (well, Hayley helps :P) and I do love to know what people think of each chapter and the story as it develops!