HARRY POTTER – THE BREAKING POINT

AN
: My first ever story! This takes place after the events of GoF. It will follow the canon events we know but we will be dealing with a more proactive, decisive and cunning Harry. He will make some different decisions than in canon that will eventually lead to the more AU stuff. Whether these changes are for good or bad.. that's for me to know and you to learn.

Summary: At what point does one reach his breaking point? Follow Harry as he deals with the events of the Final Task and, when again faced with an unfair situation, finally snaps and starts showing signs of independence and prepares to take the fight to anyone that stands in his way. Allies expected and unexpected. Minor but deserved bashing. Good but stubborn Dumbledore. No pairings decided as of yet. Grey!Harry.

1 – THE CALM BEFORE…

A month has passed since Harry disembarked from the Hogwarts Express, signaling the end of his fourth year at the school. Nine months ago he thought it would have been the quietest year as of yet, he deserved that much, that was for sure. But no, fate and his infamous luck had other plans. From the moment he saw the Goblet, he knew he was in for it. Being in constant danger because he was a Champion was to be expected, what he did not however expect was the scorn and borderline hatred he had received from everyone, apart from Hermione and Snuffles, until he faced a dragon, funnily enough. Since then whoever badmouthed him was more subtle, but he could tell they were there, even Ron had these stray thoughts even after they made up.

Harry snorted hollowly as he slowly woke up. These childish things shouldn't distract him. Not when there were worse things out there looking for him. Not when he has watched Cedric get murdered every night since his return to his relatives because he was a "spare". The words still haunted him. For the first week or so, he was not seen by his relatives. He had stayed in his room in the worst state imaginable. He only went out to eat something, use the toilet and for a shower since he couldn't even live with himself after a while. His thoughts kept going back to the graveyard. He couldn't escape them whether he was awake or asleep. They were tormenting him. His relatives probably didn't know why he was acting the way he was, but it's not like they cared or anything, in fact they are probably fine with his absence. So Harry just wallowed in self pity -borderline hatred-.

That was until his second week in his "existence". He didn't know what day it was and he just went through another restless night. He knew he was a mess, but he couldn't do anything, he just wanted everything to be..not better, just different. He didn't want to forget what happened by any means. He just wanted the events leading up to his state of existence to motivate him instead of bringing him even lower. So he got up. He washed himself. He swore that he would be different from there on out. He couldn't help anyone going on as he did, hell he couldn't even help himself. He was tired of feeling helpless constantly. So he decided to start training, not only to pass the time or use it as a distraction, no. He wanted to be stronger, more capable, more.. ready. For anything really, his life was unpredictable after all.

Now, a few weeks since then, he had a routine. He would wake up early as he usually did, eat something after he made breakfast for the Dursleys, and go for a run around the neighborhood. After running and stretching, he returned to #4 to wash up. The only person who saw him at this time was his aunt who was pointedly ignoring him. If she had any issues with him exercising she didn't voice them. Harry still did his chores, but at this point he knew he couldn't avoid them. In the afternoon, since Dudley and Vernon returned to their home (Harry refused to call it his home) in the evening, Harry made use of the punching bag his cousin had in the garage. After that, he went for another shower, grabbed something to eat, and stayed in his room until the next morning. He used that free time to go through his Charms, DADA and Transfiguration books from his first year to his fourth. He made notes of any useful spells he could use in a battle, since he couldn't practice them. He noticed however that very few spells actually did something to their victim other than cause some discomfort. He wasn't going to be facing Voldemort's followers with tickling charms, or stinging hexes. He needed more spells, more effective ones that could injure, incapacitate even kill. The last one made him sick but at the same time, he reasoned, it's survival of the fittest when it comes to war. He wouldn't cower or show mercy. These animals were laughing and jeering at him while their Lord was using the Cruciatus curse repeatedly at him. These animals didn't deserve to be shown any kindness. So he hardened himself and planned to do more research once he could.

Harry got up after clearing his head of stray thoughts. He went to the bathroom to freshen up and go about his daily routine. It was a week before his birthday and looking himself in the mirror he can see that the month he spent exercising was paying off. He had grown a bit taller, his shoulders had been broadened, his arms got bigger and his chest hardened. He was by no means buff but he was no longer the scrawny kid that everyone knew. He had a lean figure and he couldn't help but wonder how much better he would feel physically and mentally going forward. He was still a stranger in the house being ignored by everyone and returning the favor, but he caught Petunia sometimes giving a weird look, as if she wanted to say something to him, but as soon as he noticed it her impassive and dismissive face returned. He didn't bother asking her if she wanted something, he didn't care. Not after all these years being used to their coldness.

He shook himself in the shower. There were more weird things going on. Everything was quiet. Too quiet really. He hasn't heard about any strange disappearances. He wasn't up to date with the wizarding world since he couldn't get the Daily Prophet. He was wondering if Fudge was doing anything at all to be ready for war but he doubted it. The man was so deep in Malfoy's pocket that he would give the Minister job to Voldemort for the right price. Not knowing what was going on was starting to get on his nerves. His friends weren't any more helpful, if anything they were worse. The letters he got were so vague and short he might as well not have received them. Hermione's were longer at the start but she spent two paragraphs asking him not to blame himself for Cedric and that she wished she could help him. She was sincere as far as he could tell but her letters felt empty after a while. Just the same stuff, but in other words. Ron on the other hand, didn't bother acting like there wasn't something important going on. His mentions of "the house" and "cleaning" meant that the Weasleys were not in the Burrow. And since Hermione joined them a few days ago, he really started getting angry for being kept in the dark. The situation had Dumbledore written all over it and Harry had some questions needed answering from him. The one thing that actually confused him and at the same time made him even more sure that Dubledore had something to do with the situation, were the letters he received from Sirius. His letters were at first long and offered advice about dealing with guilt. Harry could say easily that these letters were very helpful. But as time went on even Sirius had little to say. The difference was that instead of wasting time talking about nothing, Sirius spent more time apologizing about not being able to say, or do more. He asked him to be patient and that everything will work out. Harry, ever the optimist, really didn't believe how "everything will work out" but he stayed patient, kept up his training and went about his days.

Harry finished his shower and went back to his room to get dressed for the day. As he got bigger some of his cousin's castoffs actually fit him, not that he actually liked the clothes, but given the circumstances he couldn't complain. Today was a Saturday which meant that Vernon was here all day and that Dudley was not. So as he went downstairs to leave the house he didn't even spare a glance at his silently fuming uncle, nor the calculating stare of his aunt. He almost laughed at the thought that this was the best they had ever treated him. With that depressingly funny thought he went out the house to get started on the day.


It was now late in the afternoon that Harry finished with his shower after throwing some punches in the garage. Now though he was at an impasse. He had read all the schoolbooks that were worth studying and he didn't have anything else to do. Normally this would suit him just fine as that meant being in his room, talking to Hedwig, and just passing the time doing nothing. But he was used to being active nowadays and he would surely get restless. So he decided to let Hedwig go out earlier than usual and get himself ready for a walk in the neighborhood. When he got downstairs he took in his surroundings: his uncle, sitting on the sofa watching the telly, his aunt reading a magazine in the kitchen, Dudley was still out. If he didn't know any better, which he didn't, this isn't supposed to be what a family looks like. Sure everyone wants their private space, but he had never seen his aunt and uncle being somewhat affectionate towards each other, only to Dudley and heaven forbid they were to him. And here he was, observing them, and they didn't even know he was there. As much as he had grown physically and mentally, the question he asked himself when he was a little boy always remained: What if? So many variations of this question popped to his head but he ignored them. They were always in the back of his head, and he truly was happy for that. He honestly couldn't care less anymore about their opinion. So when he just marched to the door and opened it he ignored the slight "eep" of his aunt, but turned at the sound of his uncle voice.

"Where do you think you are going, boy?" In another time the tone of his voice or the expression on his uncle's face would have been enough to scare Harry away to his room. Now though, having been through worst and having seen things his uncle couldn't imagine, the situation was laughable. He was not scared and he showed it by simply raising an eyebrow unimpressed.

"I never thought you would mind me leaving your house. But if you must know, I decided to go for a walk." He watched as shock was evident in his uncle's face due to the cheek of his answer, but that quickly receded to anger judging by the puce colour of his face.

"Mind your cheek boy" he half yelled having realized that the door was still half open. " Go away boy but if you are late I am not going to get out of my bed to unlock the door for you" And that was that. He sat back down on his couch not realizing that due to his rage he was almost standing. Still, all Harry did was raise an eyebrow and leave. He couldn't believe he was ever scared of that oaf but, his training really helped his self confidence and it showed. Plus it wasn't like he expected to be out for hours.

Harry just wondered aimlessly around Privet Drive. No one was out which was surprising given the fact that it was actually a nice day. There was the occasional breeze but, all in all, the weather screamed "get out of your house". After about half an hour, at least according to Harry, he ended up in the local playground and sat at one of the swings. His mind was blank for a while and he barely took notice of the coming clouds, probably a passing storm. Looking around Harry wondered if he would have enjoyed playing in places like this had things been different. But these thoughts were just oppressing him. What's done is done we can only look forward, Harry kept repeating to himself. But sometimes you couldn't help but wonder..

His musings were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps along the pavement and slight laughter barely audible due to the increasing wind. Harry followed the noise and almost cursed himself for not seeing this coming. He did sigh in frustration though and just waited for the inevitable confrontation.

Dudley and his bootlickers, noticed him sitting alone and smirking approached him. Just as his confrontation with his uncle, Harry would have been so intimidated he would just run. But that was in the past. They stopped a few feet in front of him, all lined up, with Dudley and Piers slightly closer to him. They were all looking like Christmas has come early. It was somewhat amusing to Harry and expressed that with a slight smirk.

"Good afternoon lads, Big D. Who did you beat up today?" Harry asked the smirk still plastered on his face. If they were shocked by the way he talked to them they definitely showed it, since some of them gaped openly. Dudley though recovered quickly.

"What's it to you? For all you know this one deserved it" Dudley answered ever so eloquently. To think that his parents were so oblivious to this behavior is actually maddening, Harry mused, but refrained from saying that.

"And you must all feel very brave going 5 against one right?" He asked instead. The smirk slightly receded now but he still enjoyed messing with them.

"You're one to talk." Before Harry could respond Dudley continued. " You're the one that spent half a month moaning in your sleep about some Cedric like he is your boyfriend." Dudley finished with an wicked grin while his lackeys laughed. Harry on the other hand was seething. Gone was the smirk and the amused expression on his face. Plastered now was only the epitome of hatred. His eyes shining an emerald fire. There were some lines that shouldn't be crossed and Dudley had done it. But his oaf of a cousin misinterpreted his look. He thought he was right. So he continued. "After that you kept telling your mum that you couldn't save him. Only thing is, your mum can't hear you Potter. You know why? She's gone Potter, dead and here you a-" Dudley stopped, having barely seen Harry get up and point his stick thing at him in lightning speed. He gulped understanding the significance of the threat, memories of a pig's tail coming back to him, while his friends laughed at the pathetic excuse of self defense. Dudley knew better, though, and he was starting to sweat.

Meanwhile, Harry was seeing red. Nobody should even dare talk about his mother that way. The woman who knowingly and gladly sacrificed her own life to try and save her only son. He barely noticed the laughter that echoed in the playground. He only saw Dudley's, terrified expression which satisfied him to no end. He was about to speak when all of a sudden the sky darkened and the faraway clouds he had seen earlier had come upon them with unnatural speed. The next thing he noticed was that the laughter had stopped and the air had become chilly as if it was winter, not middle of the summer. In fact, the only time he has experienced such aching and depressing cold was two years ago.. Harry's eyes widened in recognition.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Dudley suddenly yelled not having dared to move while Harry was still aiming at him. Harry shook his head and lowered his wand. He needed to stay calm or everyone here would be soulless carcasses.

"I'm not doing anything!" he exclaimed and backed off. He noticed everyone was trembling from the cold and their eyes were glazed. "Dudley take your friends and run go back to the house. NOW" He yelled seeing that his cousin was staring dumbly at him. After that though he didn't need any more motivation, he motioned for his friends to leave and he made to follow. "Go back now, lock the door don't open unless it's me." Harry said with finality in his voice as he saw Dudley leave. A part of him really wanted his relatives to be subjected to the horror of the Dementors but he honestly wouldn't wish that fate to them, however much they deserved it.

He was trying to clear his head of the memory of his mother's screams, when he saw the offending creatures. Plural. Not one, but two Dementors were in Little Whinging - Privet Drive. They were approaching fast so he mustered the warm feeling he had, and still has, when he learned who Sirius was and the possibility of living with him. He aimed his wand and exclaimed:

"EXPECTO PATRONUM"

AN: I'm not sure about the rating yet but I am pretty confident I won't be going into graphic details of violence or sexual situations. I am conflicted whether or not I am going to include pairings and if I do what will those be. I am open to suggestions of course but I don't make any promises.