Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to J. 's masterpiece :)

Disclaimer #2: Marked M for language, disturbing scenes, light sexual content and death. You will be warned! No bashing, some pairings.

Enjoy!

It was late July, but life could not be any colder nor cruel, especially for Harry Potter, who was currently pacing through the small bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive. All around the neighbourhood, kids were playing around with water guns, and elderly couples were happily chatting about the nice weather, not that they had anything else to babble about, but for the nearly sixteen-year-old boy, nothing could bring him out of his grief and misery. One may ask themselves, how the hell is a teenager having this sort of feeling when life was just beginning to make sense when new wonders were found each day by the other kids of his age? Well, for one, they didn't witness their nemesis rising to full power and trying to kill them one year ago. They were not constantly attacked, pointed at, or blamed for ridiculous stuff at school, no. And certainly, most of them have not experienced the pain and disbelief of suddenly losing one of the last people they called family.

Harry snarled when these thoughts ran through his mind. He didn't want to think about his dead godfather more than he had to, but each night dreams were swarming him, of Death Eaters, Bellatrix, and Sirius, laughing and then going through the Veil. Harry wanted to concentrate on the present, hell, maybe check on the newspaper to see who was the new Minister of Magic or read the news of the current war that was going on in the wizarding world.

With a heavy sigh, he sat on the old bed, thinking about the last few weeks since he came back to Privet Drive. He didn't talk to anyone, not that the Dursleys wanted to talk more than was required. He almost didn't touch any food that his aunt left him in front of his room the first two weeks, and he willingly did the house chores without even waiting for Petunia to tell him.

Harry Potter was depressed, but he didn't know it. He thought that he had enough of it, repeating the same words he had told Dumbledore in his office after they came back from the Ministry. As the days went by, the depression slowly faded, replaced by restlessness and the occasional bouts of grief, anger and denial. He was stuck in this confusing loop of wanting to hide in a hole and desiring to do something about the current state of the wizarding world without needing the helping hand of an adult.

Of course, not everything was as grim as it was. He had received letters from his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, occasionally telling him what they were doing, how they were waiting for the moment of their reunion and other stuff like that. Harry even received letters from Ginny, Neville and Luna. That warmed his heart a little, and he often went through the letters from the five people who went into battle with him last month. Naturally, he wrote them back, but he didn't think that his answers were perfect. Harry thought that they were horrendous, telling them that he did nothing except go for walks around the neighbourhood or read stuff about Defence. He was already picturing Hermione's face reading his letters with a face that said "Oh-no-I-have-to-talk-with-him-about-it", and he was preparing himself for that specific moment, as he knew that the clever girl wanted to help by not tiptoeing the issues of her friends and openly discussing them. That thought made him smile and grimace at the same time, but oh well.

Harry stood up from his bed and began pacing again. It was two o'clock in the evening, but he didn't care if he woke up his relatives. Today was his birthday, but he didn't care about that much either. His thoughts brought him to the confusing yet compelling idea that he had two days ago, which was the only thing keeping him sane from the grief and depression. Harry had already decided to go for it, no matter the cost, because simply doing nothing and waiting for the authorities or the Order was not enough, in his opinion. He knew that he didn't want to go against them, and the young Gryffindor wasn't planning on it - he merely wanted to bring his ideas to the table, to put some new, fresh minds and hands to the task of battling the Dark.

Harry stopped in place and ran a hand through his messy hair. His head was going to explode from the ideas that were swirling around it, and he simply wanted to start putting them in motion. A light bulb went on in his head. Two years ago, in one of his rare talks with Viktor Krum during his fourth year and the Tournament, the Bulgarian told him a saying that did not make much sense to his then-fourteen-year-old mind.

'A vise man vrites down his thoughts, vhile the stupid only think,' the Seeker said.

And now it made sense, so Harry sat at his desk near the window of the small bedroom, pulled out a piece of paper and started writing. Several times Harry crumbled the small pieces of paper, growling out of frustration at his inability to put his ideas to paper. It was nearly five o'clock when he finally put down the quill, satisfied with his work. At the same time, he saw a small speck of white flying closer and closer to his window.

'Hey, Hedwig!' Harry grinned at his owl. She gracefully landed on his desk offering a small hoot of greeting to her owner. Hedwig looked at Harry and at the letter in his hand, and promptly raised her leg.

'I need you to get this to Fred and George, okay?' Harry asked. The owl gave him a look that basically said "Of course it is okay! This is my job, right, you dunderhead?". Harry's smile only grew larger which was something rare for him these days. He watched silently as Hedwig went to the edge of the window and flew into the sunrise. When he couldn't see her anymore, Harry stood up from his desk while stretching his sore back. He finally could start looking forward to something that could put him out of his misery and be content about it.

Around breakfast time, there was the usual rough knock on Harry's door. His relatives had softened a little bit and started giving him food, but Harry was sure that it was not good intentioned, rather they were bewildered by his behaviour compared to last summer. Ever since he got back, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were giving him odd looks, but at that time, Harry did not give a damn about it, as he was in a state of grief and confusion and couldn't care less. Ever since he started feeling like he should step up and do something himself though, he began to see that they were genuinely confused with his sombre mood, his refusal to eat, and his dull agreement to do house chores.

Today, after the routine knock that there was breakfast outside of his bedroom, Harry again chose to ignore it. But after a minute or so, another knock came, this time more gentle. Harry looked up from his book on Defence that Remus gave him last Christmas, confusion written on his face. They didn't knock twice.

'Erm,' he cleared his throat loudly. He hoped that whoever was outside of his door would understand that either they come in and say their piece or they get the hell out.

The door opened slightly, and Harry was confused to see the wide frame of his cousin, Dudley, standing at the threshold of the smallest bedroom. Harry hadn't seen the boy properly through the summer, but now got a good look at him. He seemed to have lost some weight and started looking like the boxing champ his father wanted him to be. Now that Harry thought about it, Dudley actually looked decent and behaved well enough this summer. Hell, he even greeted Harry and helped him with his trunk after he got home from King's Cross, something Harry had forgotten about in the daze of his arrival at the wretched house. Something had changed in Dudley, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the dementors fiasco that happened last summer. The young wizard had watched Dudley gape at him several times since he got back from Hogwarts, peeking through the window while he was working in the garden. It confused Harry, but at the same time warmed him a little bit because there was no name-calling, no outright bullying and stuff. It seemed that his cousin wanted something and Harry was going to learn what it was now. He stood by his bed, his eyes not leaving Dudley's as he waited for him to collect his bearings and start talking.

'Uhm, I-I just wanted to come by and say Happy Birthday,' Dudley said, his cheeks going a bit red from the significant amount of sheer willpower to say those words.

'Oh, er, thanks, I guess,' Harry said, scratching his head awkwardly. That was the first time someone from his living family had told him those words without ill intentions. 'Do you wanna stay or was that all?' asked Harry, eying Dudley curiously.

'N-no. I mean, yes, I want to stay. I wanted to ask you some stuff, if that's alright?' Dudley continued stammering.

'Wow, Dud, you must be joking, right? You, of all people, wanting to talk to me about stuff?', Harry asked incredulously. It seemed like Hell froze over that of all people, Dudley wanted to actually have a normal conversation with the "freak" that he was to them. It couldn't be stopped now, it was too good to be true, 'Yeah, come on, have a seat here.'

The large boy shuffled over to the bed and sat down on it while his wizard cousin went over to the chair and leaned on it, his concentration never wavering from the stammering mess that was Dudley.

'You haven't been eating the stuff me and mum gave you. I…I see how you're now. You seem…sad about something. Did that lordy-thing do something or was it the dementiators?' Dudley asked in quick fashion and in a hushed tone, lest his father heard him talking about magic inside his perfectly normal home.

'Dementors, Dud, and no, it wasn't them,' laughed Harry, but his smile faltered after he went back to the first part of Dudley's question and statement. Was he going to understand what it was like losing a person you loved so dearly? Was he going to get it that after hearing a prophecy which basically told you that the world depended on you, you had to keep your wits and resolve in check and just go head first into battle? In the end, Harry decided that he had to talk about it with someone, even if that someone was the boy who had been bullying him to Hell and back during his childhood.

'My godfather was killed in battle,' Harry said quietly, his head looking down at his feet, eyes closed. 'He was murdered by his cousin, who had joined the madman that is Voldemort, the one who wants to kill me. I thought…I thought that the world is such an unfair place, that shit only happens to me, you know what I mean?
'First it was my parents, you know, your uncle and aunt. Then it was Cedric, who you mocked me about. He was killed by Voldemort the night he came back. And now, it was Sirius. I feel so angry, all the time,' Harry had started pacing around the bedroom, forgetting for a moment who he was speaking with. But then he looked at Dudley and saw his astonished face. He did not understand it, it was clear on his face. Harry sighed and dropped in the chair by the desk, 'I do not expect you to understand, Dudley, but it feels good to talk about it with someone, even if it's you, no offence,' Harry added quickly. Dudley sat in silence for a moment.

'Why don't you do something about it then?' he asked in confusion. 'Why don't you try and take the fight back to Him?'

'Dud, you can't imagine the power that He has, the amount of magical knowledge that I cannot even dream of. I saw him fighting,' Harry replied, waving his hands around in desperation, 'Merlin, you don't even know an ounce of my world to begin with. You can't–'

'Well then tell me about it. All of it,' Dudley interrupted. Harry turned sharply to look at him. His cousin, his Muggle relative wanted to know all about the wizarding world and magic when his mother and father had been trying for a decade to reject the very existence and mention of it.

'You aren't joking, are you?'

'I want to know everything. Hell, it is a Wednesday and Dad will be late from work as he has these stupid meetings he is prattling on about. We have time.'

Harry narrowed his eyes at Dudley. There seemed to be something else there. The way that Dudley was behaving towards him since the summer holiday had started, this conversation and the free use of the word "magic" inside the sacredly normal house of Vernon and Petunia Dursley was bothering and at the same time amusing him. To Hell with it thought Harry and with that in mind he turned to his cousin, a shit-eating grin on his face.

'Dudley, you better bring some more snacks as this is going to be a long story.'

Nearly five hours later, Harry finished telling everything about the magic world. He told Dudley everything - from Hogwarts, to the subjects, Gringotts, Dumbledore, Azkaban and the Dementors, Quidditch and finally his whole story. Dudley sat in silence, occasionally asking a question or two. Harry admired the way his cousin had listened to everything and was pretty sure that hadn't paid that much attention to detail in school.

'So, you are famous for surviving the one spell that could kill a bloke, and then each year you went to that school of yours, you had something strange and dangerous happen to you? That's fucking mental, mate!' Dudley exclaimed.

'Well, that pretty much sums it up, Dud,' Harry said while reaching for the bag of crisps. He felt exhausted but lightened from telling his story. He was still confused about how his sixteenth birthday was going. Obviously, he had said that out loud because Dudley snorted in amusement.

'I was thinking about what happened last summer, Harry, and I just needed to know more about everything, you know, in case something like that happens again,' Dudley said, his amusement gone, 'About the state of the war, why don't you really do something about it, huh? Like learn some cool stuff and just serve it back to Voldemort?'

'I wish it were that simple, Dud. I really want to do something, to return fire as it's said. But I don't know how,' Harry answered, helplessness and desperation oozing out of him.

'Dumbledore has his Order, right? You had that group last year to learn Defence. Make it permanent, like a military organisation, your own, I mean,' Dudley exclaimed.

'We are still kids in the eyes of others. And we can't do magic outside of school, remember? On top of that, Umbridge is gone, so there is no point of having the DA back.'

'No point? Well, I think you should go for it. You can't rely on teachers and adults anymore, that's what I think. And Dumbledore only answering when there is an attack and stuff is stupid. In war, both sides need to attack, at least that's what they say on those telly documentaries about our wars back then,' Dudley said a bit embarrassed.

'Who are you and what did you do with Dudley Dursley, Big D, Duddykins and so on?' Harry grinned while his cousin groaned at the nicknames his mum had given him.

'The attack changed me, Harry. I…Something strange is happening to me. That's why I wanted to talk to you about magic. Strange stuff, but only at times where I am extremely happy or angry. Like, this kid at school, John, he is the son of this politics guy and was bossing everyone around but tried the same with me, calling me a simpleton middle-class shite. I went bonkers. The next second, the guy had his shoelaces tied in a knot and was falling down in the middle of the corridor.'

Harry froze in place. That was certainly magic! He looked at his cousin like he was seeing him for the first time. Was his aunt a Squib and Dudley magical, but with a low level of magic that didn't mandate him attending Hogwarts. Surely not! He was pulled from his astounded thoughts by a series of knocks on his window. Dudley jumped from the bed while Harry went over the window to allow four owls inside. They seemed to have been carrying parcels that looked like birthday presents, surely from his friends.

'I'm gonna leave you to open your presents, we are gonna talk later' Dudley stammered.

'Nonsense, stay here, it's no problem.'

Dudley didn't seem comfortable, but stayed in the room while Harry went on to open his presents. He got a book(of course it was a book) from Hermione on the history of brooms. It had several models flying around on the cover ranging from the first ever flying broom to the Firebolt. Harry smiled. The girl was a toddler in terms of Quidditch knowledge, but she knew what interested him in the sport. Next up was a big parcel from the Weasleys. Inside, he could see a small cake from Mrs Weasley, new Seeker gloves from Ron and a beautiful handmade card from Ginny. His eyes lingered on the card the longest, deciding that it would be placed where he could see the writing at all times. The third owl brought him a sack of various items from WWW, and a letter telling him that a certain pair of twins was going to be on guard duty in the vicinity in three days and that he could open up his window at morning and noon from time to time. Harry briefly wondered what that was about but decided to do it anyway, not worrying if it was a try to put him in harm's way as his mail was thoroughly checked by the Order for curses and stuff. Finally, there was a small pouch of seeds from Hagrid, stating that he was to use them if he got into a scuffle with "Dark bast'rds", and a letter with the unmistakable writing of Dumbledore. Harry decided that this was going to be the only thing that he was going to open alone.

'Nice haul!' Dudley exclaimed from the bed. He was leafing through the book about brooms, wonder etched on his round face.

'Thanks! Yeah, these are from my friends that I told you about, you know, Ron and Hermione, and Ron's parents and sister, Ginny,' Harry said, suddenly feeling a bit hot at mentioning Ginny's name.

'Yeah, I see that you put that card in a good place,' Dudley smirked. 'She beautiful?'

'Shut up, Dud!' Harry said, throwing an empty box at his cousin. Life could be a bit better then, even if it is because your ex-bully of a cousin made it that way.

A/N: And here it is, the first chapter of my story, The Third Side! I hope that you enjoy it, or even if you don't, a review is welcome. If you have any critique, any advice or even tell me that I suck, I won't be mad, no worries. I am a novice in terms of writing, but that is why I have decided to start writing here - to hone my craft. This story came to me while I was watching the Half-Blood Prince several weeks ago, and since then, I have been thinking about it like crazy and putting my ideas for it in a massive document. One thing I am sure of is that I am going to divide it into two parts. Well, here it is. There are other stories that I am interested in writing, which I put into my bio on my account.
I haven't decided on a posting schedule, but after the first 4-5 chapters, I will see how I am with time management and everything and will give an update on it.
Thanks for reading and until next time!

- badger77