A.N.: First, I don't own Harry Potter in any way.

Now that that is out of the way, a few things you should know about this story. The first few chapters will be kind of hard to follow, but it should get easier as I go along. Part of this is that I don't really have a super clear idea of where this is going, but most of it is intentional. This is supposedly (kinda) told from Harry's perspective, and at this part, he is hung over, digesting a boggart, and having a huge mental breakdown for having to face a bloody dragon! I am sorry for the difficulty, but try to follow it through, and the format will make sense in a couple chapters. This is INTENTIONAL, even if it is a bit of a pain. The reveal should make it worthwhile, but if it doesn't, message me and I will change it.

Also, this story is going to be more organic than structured. I don't really know where it is going, but I probably won't stop when we gank Voldy. Don't know for sure, but you will see why I might have bigger plans than that, Not for sure if I will have another big bad, or if it will be more just for fun, but in either case, I hope you enjoy it.

Last thing, then it is story time. I have no idea what my update schedule will be like. I am currently working on multiple stories at the same time as going to college, so I can't swear to a schedule. That being said, I will try to keep up with it, and I apologize in advance for any issues with the style/story/updating routine. All that aside, I hope you enjoy this, as I know I will.

Thanks for reading

-OOooOOOooOO-

Harry Potter was an inch from going crazy. To be honest, his life was so bad up to this point, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. It had all started when he had faced Voldemort in his first year. (A blood-red, gold-veined stone, clutched so tightly in his hand he was bleeding around it.) The troll that same year was tough, but he was new to the magical world, so he had expected some issues. (His knees wrapped so hard around the troll's neck; it was having trouble breathing. The skin was so rough, it was rubbing his calves raw.) Still, he had driven the monster off (Voldemort, not the troll) even as (the face made of smoke passed straight through him. As it did, Harry felt like he had lost something he never knew he had, and really didn't want. And his scar! It burst open, leaking black pus and bleeding.) Unfortunately, his stupid wand had never worked right after that. He had gone to Ollivander's at the start of his second year, but the old man, while admitting he no longer seemed to have much of a connection to it, had tested him and found that no wand was any closer to him than that one. Truth be told, compared to his home life, he was more than happy to go through a "trial by fire" in his first year to escape the Dursley's each year thereafter, and even put up with a troublesome wand for the rest of his life as well, things didn't really get better.

In his second year, people were getting turned into stone left and right. Everyone thought it was him because he could talk to snakes, but he could bloody talk to all animals! Did that matter? Nooooo. Just because he was a bloody parslemouth, everyone, even his own friends (only a little bit, but it still hurt), thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. Ironically, as the fang pieced the diary, and he bested Tom Marvolo Riddle, The Heir of Slytherin, he now was the Heir of house Slytherin by conquest. Not that he planned on telling anyone that. They would probably burn him at the stake.

Even worse, he had gotten bitten twice that year! Once by (a young acromantula, trying to slow him down so the elders could eat him, drain him, suck him dry), its (his? her?) words, not Harry's, then by the (bloody Basilisk ramming its head down the sword so far he got stabbed in two places, one with the fang being lodged in his arm so far he had a hole clear though the other side.) At least he got revenge on Tom by stabbing the bloody diary with that same fang. He and Tom dying the same way would be sweet justice. He wasn't sure if he should be glad that (Fawkes had messed that up by crying on his arm.) Sure, he had healed a hole clean through Harry's arm and kept him alive with only a slight scar, but it might have been a nice way to go, and he could have finally relaxed and not had people hating him and blaming him for things he didn't do. At least he had saved Ginny, and Hemione. Actually, technically, he had saved the whole student population twice, maybe even three times.

He was glad he hadn't gotten bitten that many times his first year. Only (Fluffy had managed to bite him! Just as he was falling, the dammed dog had managed a nip! No wonder he felt so confused. Cerberus venom caused hallucinations, even in small doses). I'll go after Snape alone, indeed. What was he, an eleven-year-old first year supposed to do against a teacher at the world's best school of magic! Honestly, he was glad he had some reason for that brilliant decision, That, and (the shard of enchanted marble embedded in his arm from the chess piece he had taken during the game Professor McGonagall) had made him feel a little better about being so dumb back then. Of course, he had no excuse for his (Falling backwards and scrabbling away from the wraith as it glided toward him. As he ended up dragging his scratched palm through a puddle of Unicorn's blood, he had only three thoughts on his mind.) 1.)Please don't eat me, 2.)why did they send three first years into the bloody FORBIDDEN FOREST, and 3.)I really hope I don't get cursed for blood on blood contact with a unicorn. It had all worked out, but still, less than stellar performance all the way around.

At least his time with Dobby had worked out. Not only had he had lessons in the magical world and inside info on the Malfoys, but his decision to bond with Harry had had the unexpected side-effect of making his magic undetectable by, well, anyone who didn't see it happen. His time with Dobby could have devolved into a stalker-ish devotion on behalf of the little guy that would plague him for years. He already had enough long-term side effects from magical creatures in the magical world. He still wished he could get the splinters of (Devil's Snare that had grabbed him so tight he could feel it digging into his back) out, never mind his partial insanity from getting partially kissed by a dementor. Any time he looked at someone in the eyes, or stared at them to long, he started seeing a weird, flame-like aura around them. Could be that he had something wrong with his eyes. He had started to be able to see in the dark, too, ever since his "run-in" with Moony the werewolf last year. That, and his sudden, irrational, and long-lasting fear of silver made him believe he was going were at first, but it seemed like this, too, was in his head. Merlin knows, he had enough going on to drive him 'round the bend.

Yesterday, he was so out of it, he drank a bottle of fire whiskey and went on a bender with Hagrid, Allistor Moody, and Draco Malfoy, of all people. Thankfully everyone had agreed that they were all completely wasted, and only Fred and George Weasley, and Peeves the Poltergeist, had any idea what they did all day. Apparently two drunk teachers and two drunk students was too much fun to pass up, but by the end of the day, the twins were white-faced as they recounted the story. Apparently, among other feats, they had streaked through the Forbidden Forest, kissed Mandrakes on the lips, wrestled a hippogriff, and Harry had decided to eat fear for breakfast, so they hunted down a Boggart so he could do just that to get him ready for today (not that it had helped, and now he had a royally sick stomach). The twins finally managed to get them to calm down with the idea of a poker game, but, somehow, Harry managed to pay out in Leprechaun gold, and the twins still had no idea how he had got it, since the last time they saw a leprechaun was when a drunk one kissed Harry after Ireland won the World Cup several months ago!

But the biggest thing he was worried about was right now. Here he was, sitting in a tent, waiting for his turn at The First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and he was about to face off against dragons. When the first figurine had been pulled out of the bag, he had begun to worry. When his turn came, and he pulled out a Hungarian Horntail, the fiercest dragon alive, he had begun to hyperventilate. Now, as he heard the crowd cheering and groaning, and the medical staff freaking out in the next tent over as he waited for his turn, he was starting to crack. Finally, when he heard his name being called, he started walking toward the arena like he was heading to the gallows.

Just outside the tent, Hermione and Ron were waiting. Hemione, ashen faced, tried to cheer him up and get him focused. Ron looked smug. "Not so hot now, are you, Potter?" he sneered. "Hagrid wanted me to tell you what to expect for this task, but since you were too high and mighty to tell me how to get into the Tournament, I figured you wouldn't want to hear from a git like me. How do you like it now, Potter? Is it worth it for more fame? Hope you don't die!" Ron was walking away even as he finished talking, chuckling to himself. Hermione looked like she either had been stabbed in the stomach, or she was going to stab Ron in the stomach. The last of the color drained from Harry's face. Sure, he and Ron had fought before, but this was tantamount to murder! Ron had known, and hadn't told him?! His first friend had set him up to die!

Hermione was saying something, but Harry didn't hear her. He started walking toward the arena, gradually working his way up to a full-out run. Brandishing his wand like a sword, he charged straight at the dragon, screaming at the top of his lungs. Then, suddenly, but not surprisingly, his world burst into flames.