A/N - Hello! This plot has been roaming around my mind since a few days. I know it's a little weird...but there's nothing wrong in trying haha. As the summary might have insinuated, I want to focus on Harry. I am just in love with the Harry of 6th year. The amount of struggles he must be going through, the fear, the loneliness. He just lost his godfather, his only family - to top that, his best friends come into a relationship and he's practically alone.So, here's a little bit of dark Harry who is not so goody two shoes. I would also like to state that there is an OC character in this story. I have developed the character of Severus' daughter as an escape for Harry. Maybe to give him a sense of family - some normalcy. It won't be a romance story, I hope you guys read more to find out where I am going with this.
Let me know how you feel about the first Chapter. I practically have half the story written down lol but would love your insights.If you don't like this one, feel free to read my other stories where I stuck to the Canon and haven't diverged too much from it.

A small trigger warning before you start - There's going to be a bit of smoking (not just tobacco), drinking and maybe a little bit of cursing in this story. Sorry, if it's not your cup of tea. But it won't be much. I will try to keep it mostly clean.

Chapter 1 – Remember Remember

Nostalgia. It's a deadly feeling. It can make or break you. It can either make you forget all your woes and let you crack a smile even when it's raining misery all around you, or it can make you drown in it.

Harry Potter decided that he was on the fence when it came to nostalgia. He couldn't decide whether he was making it or breaking himself. The past year at Hogwarts had been as tough as they come. Sirius's death, Remus's disappointment, Snape's memories, Dumbledore's cold shoulder—it was all a bit too much for his 15-year-old—oh wait—his now 16-year-old self to handle.

His watch beeped quietly, and Harry hummed himself the "Happy Birthday" tune in rhythm. He had bought himself a small slice of chocolate cake that evening. He didn't feel like eating it at all, but that was the tradition, right? He sighed as he opened the small white to-go box and frowned. The cake had moved during its travels from the bakery to Harry's room, and icing was smeared around the box. Harry scooped a little on his finger and licked it clean before closing the lid and putting the box away.

He wasn't interested in cake, no sir. He had other indulgences now. Harry got out of bed with a small skip and padded over to his small table atop which rested Hedwig in her cage. Her big eyes pierced his green ones, and she gave a small disapproving hoot as she realized what he was about to do. Harry gave her a sheepish smile before shrugging. He reached over her cage, ignoring the flapping of her wings, and opened the window.

The world was quiet outside. The summer air ruffled his hair, as if to wish him a happy birthday, and Harry cracked half a smile. He then slowly opened his desk drawer and took out a small thin wooden box before shoving it into his pocket. His next course of action was to get on the roof. He climbed up on the desk and put his lower body out of the window. For someone looking from outside, it would seem like Harry was out of his mind doing insane stunts just to get his neck broken. But Harry had done this plenty of times before. His left foot tapped around aimlessly in midair before it hit something solid, and Harry smirked before getting his grip and climbing wholly out of the window and onto the lower part of Number 4 Privet Drive's roof.

Navigating his path expertly from in front of Dudley's window and above the house onto the top part of the roof, Harry sighed contentedly as he settled himself beside the solid chimney, facing the backyard. It was the perfect spot; the chimney blocked him from the street, and a large tree in the backyard blocked him from the neighbors. He took out the small box from his pocket and licked his lips as he opened it. He gleefully took out a neatly rolled joint and put it between his lips before putting the box in his pocket again and fishing out a lighter.

He lit the joint and closed his eyes as he took a long puff. "Happy birthday to you, Harry," he whispered and puffed out. The first one always hurt, but it was the good hurt. Harry welcomed it. The acrid, bitter aftertaste along with the smell of burning grass was comfort for him these days. This was what helped him get his woes away. This helped him get on the "making it" stage of nostalgia.

He huffed out a breath as he thought about what the wizarding community might think of him if they ever saw him like this.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived turns into Ganja-Man," he whispered and giggled as he dropped ash from his joint. Hermione would probably flip out. Ron would understand, maybe, and then would want to try it out too. He wouldn't be able to handle it, Harry shook his head. No, his secret was his, and it was safe with him in his Muggle world. For the first time, Harry was glad to be living in two worlds with two lives. One where he was the savior of the world, and the other where he was a weed-smoking nobody.

Since returning to Privet Drive from Hogwarts, the Dursleys had left Harry alone. Too alone, to be honest. Harry wasn't sure if it was due to disgust or fear. A little fear on Dudley's part maybe, but apart from that, probably all disgust.

The joint burned as Harry sucked in another puff. Sirius. He was over that. He died. Good for him. The world's too cruel anyway.

Another puff. Remus? Harry didn't care about his disappointment. He couldn't blame Harry for his best friend's death. Harry tried his best and he knew it. If Remus didn't see that, maybe he himself was the one to be blamed.

Another puff. Dumbledore was another story. He hadn't contacted Harry since the end of the year, and frankly, Harry preferred it that way. He didn't need that old coot breathing down his neck every minute.

Two puffs. Snape. It was at that point that Harry coughed. His eyes went wide and he put a hand over his mouth to dissipate any further coughing. It burned, Merlin, it burned bad. His eyes watered, but finally the tickle in his throat subsided and he could take a deep breath. Freaking Snape, always ruining stuff even from far away. Snape had been weird this year. He tried to teach Harry Occlumency, had gone batshit crazy when Harry had snooped around in his Pensieve.

That was probably wrong, yeah, Harry thought morosely. Harry's eyes suddenly lit up, and he stood up. He should apologize to Snape. He nodded his head, feeling the familiar tug of the high.

He expertly made his way down to his room and sat down at his desk heavily. How to say sorry? he thought. 'Oh! Parchment!' He giggled at his stupidity and fetched some parchment and a quill.

Respected P-

Wait, Respected? No. Harry shook his head and cut out the word.

Dearest Professor Snape,

That sounds better. More… informal.

I, Harry James Potter, apologize to you and your Pensieve for snooping around when I shouldn't have. I hope we mend the bridges.

Yes, that's good. Bit too short, maybe. Should add something more.

Thank you for trying to teach me Oucclme-

How the fuck do you spell this?

Occlmen- oclumensy-

Oh, for Merlin's sake-

Thank you for trying to teach me Oucclme – occlem – oclumsi –He scratched the whole thing and safely wrote - the mind thing. It didn't help, but who cares. Sirius is dead and I can't do anything about it. Your meagre patience was appreciated.

Harry chuckled at his words.

To be honest, Snape, I don't think you deserved my dad's harassment.

Harry frowned. He can't end at such a note, it was too open-ended. He tsked at himself.

Good to know that someone at least knew my parents for who they were, even if you are my enemy.

Harry's stomach gurgled, and he realized how hungry he felt. Yes, the Dursleys had left him alone, and that meant that he was allowed outside the house for two hours every day, got meals when Petunia remembered that he had to be fed, and other than that, he was pretty much confined to his room. He racked his grass-high brain to remember the last time he got to eat.

Oh yes, it was on Saturday when Petunia had made pasta, but the sauce burned, and that meant Harry got the majority of the food. Today was… he squinted his eyes to look at the calendar on his table, Tuesday. Two days since only water and no food. Not bad. His longest record was 5 days with water and 2 days without water.

Wait, didn't he have a chocolate cake somewhere? Harry grabbed the to-go box, opened it, and devoured the cake. He always kept a small amount of Muggle money for emergencies such as travel, and today he blew all that money away for a piece of chocolate cake. Pfft, such a waste.

Wait, why? Oh yes, birthday. Harry picked up his quill as he munched on the cake and wrote further.

It's my birthday today. I'll wish myself from your side.

Harry suddenly had the wildest doubt. Where does Snape live?

By the way, where do you live? Do you have pets?

Giggles escaped from his throat as he smeared chocolate all over the letter.

Anyways, I think I've conversed enough. I'll let you get back to your… what do you do in summers?

Please answer my genuine questions over tea sometime.

Thank you.

Your favorite student,

Harry Potter

With the precision of a 3-year-old, Harry folded the letter and shoved it inside an old envelope he found in his trunk. Should he send the letter now? Yes. Yes, he definitely should, he nodded to himself. He opened Hedwig's cage and got her out.

"Ouch, Hedwig!" he gave her a glare as she nipped his finger while he tied the letter to her leg. "Take this to Professor Severus Snape," Harry said joyfully and watched as Hedwig waited for a few seconds, as if to wait for him to come to his senses, but when Harry just blinked at her, she rolled her eyes (or was he just too high?) and took off into the night. Harry grinned and waved at her before falling onto his bed. His eyes shut on their own accord, and he passed out instantly.

Harry woke up the next day to a loud screeching noise. His mouth was too dry, and his head was heavy.

"Probably hunger," Harry thought as he groggily sat up. The clock on his desk read 9:18 AM. All the memories of last night flooded back into his head.

'Dearest Professor SNAPE—'

Oh, Merlin. Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. What had he done? Bloody Jerome and his new stuff. Snape was going to kill him, then kill his children, his grandchildren, and their children. No Potter would ever live on this earth again. Harry rubbed his face and stood up. There was nothing he could do, could he? Maybe he could blame it on Dudley or someone else.

Or alcohol. Yes, that seemed plausible.

Birthday. Alcohol. Letter.

Harry nodded as he got his story straight and moved out of his room. He was allowed the toilet, but only between 8 AM and 7 PM. Harry didn't understand the logic behind the timings and usually chalked it up to the Dursleys being cruel for no apparent reason.

"Used to it," he snorted as he brushed his teeth. He gulped up the water from the tap, the last night's shenanigans leaving him dehydrated. After using the toilet and taking a quick shower, he returned to his room and fell onto his bed. He wondered if he was going to get food today.

His question was answered when he heard a knock on the door. He got up to open it and found himself staring at Dudley.

"Mum says you can make yourself a sandwich. There's some chicken and bread on the counter." Harry nodded solemnly, and the other boy walked off without another word.

Dudley had started behaving strangely, Harry thought as he fixed himself lunch. There wasn't much kept, and frankly, Harry didn't need much. He warmed up the chicken, put it between two slices of bread, and got a paper plate. He quickly sneaked a look inside the fridge and found a few cans of soda. 'Surely Dudley wouldn't mind,' he thought and grabbed one before quickly heading upstairs, avoiding any human contact whatsoever.

He burped loudly after his lunch as he sat sipping on his soda and gazing out of the window. The afternoon was a lazy one. A soft breeze blew, and the only sound outside was of passing cars. Harry sighed. Well, there goes his birthday. Hedwig hadn't returned, so that meant either she was still searching for Snape, or he had forbidden her from coming back. Stupid git.

He had asked Ron and Hermione and others to not send any presents today. They had objected, of course, but Harry had stuck them with some nonsense story about the Dursleys not liking it when he got owls. In reality, they had no idea about the owls. As long as Harry didn't make their house look like an owl school and let the neighbors know about his "freakishness," they didn't care.

But it was Harry who didn't want any gifts. He felt he didn't deserve them after what had happened with Sirius.

Suddenly, he saw Hedwig flying back towards him. His heartbeat picked up when he saw a letter tied to her leg. "Oh Merlin, why did he smoke up yesterday?" Hedwig gave a harsh hoot as she swiftly landed in front of him.

"It's my birthday, you know. You don't have to be so rude to me today of all days," he grumbled. Hedwig instantly nuzzled his palm before holding up her leg for him to untie the letter. Harry bit his lip as he saw the name on it. Sure enough, in Snape's handwriting, 'Harry J. Potter' was written in a neat scrawl. Till the last minute, Harry held hope that Hedwig hadn't found Snape and had brought back his own letter. All those hopes shattered into a million pieces after seeing the letter. The letter started sarcastically.

Dearest Potter,

Harry winced.

I do not know what exactly confounded you to write your previous letter, nor do I wish to know. It's a displeasure to see you during the term, and an even greater one when I see your owl arriving with your letter at 2 o'clock in the morning with the most absurdly written chocolate-covered note ever. Potter, there never were any bridges between us to mend. As for 'the mind thing'—

Harry winced again.

Anyone would think that a person with even half a brain could spell something as easy as Occlumency, especially when you've spent the past year learning, listening, and writing about the technique. Really, Potter, your imbecility amazes me repeatedly. I had no wish to reply to your inane letter, but as it turns out, I couldn't resist myself from letting you know that the headmaster has heard about this and is in possession of your written submission. Consider this your present on your special day. Additionally, as a matter of fact, where I live and what I do is frankly none of your business. Do not contact me again.

Sincerely,

Professor Snape

Harry almost ripped the letter apart. Did the git really have to complain to the headmaster? What a bloody coward! He growled in anger. A small part of his brain gave him a reality check that he shouldn't have expected anything else, and what he did was kind of wrong, but he conveniently ignored it.

Harry threw the letter on his table and sat down with resignation. He was done for. Dumbledore would definitely know what he was up to and would give him that disappointed look and probably expel him from Hogwarts.

In frustration, Harry banged his head on the wall. He was never smoking pot again. And if he ever did, he would make sure to keep all writing materials out of his reach. Freaking idiot.

Harry's life for the past month had just been being confined to his room. He barely spoke to anyone for days on end. His relatives neglected him beyond measure. There was no contact with his friends; he didn't want to talk to them much. It wasn't that he had a problem with them or anything; he was just not willing to fake any social interaction, especially with people he cared so much about. He thought of Remus from time to time but hadn't yet had the courage to write to the man. He knew Remus must be grieving, and Harry didn't wish to come between that.

One day, about 10-15 days ago, when he was out on a walk during his 'outside time,' Harry came across a guy named Jerome in the playground. Jerome was a Muggle, about 20 years old. He worked at the neighborhood diner. He and Harry got to talking, and Jerome introduced Harry to weed. He told him how the stuff was going to help him forget all about his dead godfather and his miserable life for a few hours and give him pure, uninterrupted bliss. Harry was skeptical at first, but then he thought, who's he got to answer to? He had just shrugged casually and accepted the joint Jerome had been offering him. After just one session, Harry was a fan. He loved the high.

It was like he was playing Quidditch and was flying in the high skies with no one near him, just wind and clouds. Harry had gone back to Jerome for a second, and then a third, and then a fourth, and here he was. He knew it was addictive and was going to create problems for him in the future, but he didn't care about all that right now. All he cared about was a puff, a puff that could make him happy. Something he hadn't felt for a while now.

Harry longed for a joint right now, but he couldn't get it. Last night's was his last one as Jerome was out of town for a week and a half.

To take his mind off of things, Harry decided to read up on his assignments. He was already done with Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was left with Potions, Charms, and half of Ancient Runes. Harry opened his Charms textbook and started reading, vowing to complete his assignment by tomorrow evening and then get a head start on Potions.

He wasn't interested in any of his subjects these days. He had always thought he would like to be an Auror, but now, he wasn't so sure. He had no goals in life except to defeat Voldemort. Harry secretly knew and to a certain point hoped that he would die killing the bastard. That was what he was good at. Killing people.

And which job in the world required that as a skill?

None, hopefully.