Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter One

"Boy, you'd better be making breakfast!" Seventeen year old Harry Potter heard his uncle's voice boom from somewhere above him. He shuddered and slid the sizzling bacon out of the pan and onto a plate.

Harry Potter was in no way your average teenager. Sure, he liked girls, parties, more girls, and more parties; but he was far from average. Since he was barely one, he had been marked to kill or be killed; in other words, he was by far one of the most powerful wizards, alive or dead, ever. After his fifth year, the year his godfather died, he had been training for the fateful day - or days - when he would fight Voldemort and, hopefully, destroy him for good.

"Where's my breakfast?" Dudley Dursley whined, glaring at Harry as he seated himself on the bench at the table.

Harry said nothing as he set a plate before his immensely over-weight cousin, and proceeded to set plates laden with steaming food in his aunt and uncle's usual places. After he had cleaned all the pans, he sat down at the table to his small meal. Petunia and Vernon Dursley took their places at the table shortly thereafter and when they were all finished, left their dirty dishes to Harry.

"I'm going to town today and have made up a list of chores for you to do before I return," Petunia told him a quarter of an hour later. She handed him a piece of paper with her perfect handwriting on it forming a rather lengthy list.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled, watching as she walked over and out of the front door. He sighed as he looked over the list. Scrub the floors, mow the lawn, weed the garden, water the garden, dust, vacuum, do the laundry. "Well, it's going to be a long day," Harry sighed as he walked into the garage to get the mower.

~*~*~

Nearly four hours later, Harry collapsed on his bed exhausted. He couldn't wait the four days until his seventeenth birthday, when he would finally be able to finish all of his chores in a matter of minutes. He rolled onto his side and his eyes automatically went to the latest picture of the "trio". He smiled as Ron, Hermione, and himself waved at him enthusiastically. The war had been in full force since January, leaving a trail of broken families and lost loved ones in its wake. He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Harry groaned as he pulled himself off the bed. The footsteps paused outside his door, but, after a few seconds, continued down the hall.

Harry moved to the door and opened it just in time to see his aunt disappear into her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her. He sighed and walked across the hall to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He almost didn't recognize himself when he looked into the mirror. Not that he had changed so much over the years that he was unrecognizable, because he looked just like his father, but more so the fact that he looked too old to be so young. The stress was weighing him down and even if you didn't know the reason why, you could tell he was troubled to no end.

The hot water did little to ease his tense muscles; he was on end to say the least. It was too much, he felt as if he would break at any moment. This was supposed to be his vacation; his time away from daily physical, mental, and defensive training. So much for that. Telling him to relax was like telling Voldemort that he could just take over, no fight or anything. Harry stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his narrow hips, and walked back to his bedroom. He quickly got dressed and then pulled out his journal. He always had thought it was stupid, but Hermione had given it to him and told him that it was a good outlet; she kept one and thought it might help him. As always, she was right.

Harry opened to a blank page and across the top wrote the heading: Overwhelmed. Images swarmed through his mind and he started writing everything that came to mind. Sirius. Prophecy. Murder. Hermione. Future of everyone. Death. He unconsciously ran his hand through his all ready wild hair and then put his head in his hands and did the only thing a person could do when their life was caving in around them. He cried.

~*~*~

Harry slept through cooking dinner, eating dinner, doing the dishes, and cleaning anything else that had to be done. He dreamt of his parents and Sirius, Tonks and all the others. He parents looked so in love and Sirius was youthful and all signs of Azkaban were gone. Tonks' hair was pink with orange polka dots and her eyes were blue, their natural color. Harry called out to them, and the second he did, the scene swirled away and he was suddenly in the graveyard again and watched Cedric fall to the ground; but just as Cedric fell, he changed to Sirius, the same surprised look on his face. The dream was surreal to say the least, he felt like he was watching a movie, except he was in it, just not there. He watched himself writher in agony as Voldemort possessed his body. Then suddenly everything was black.

Harry awoke the next morning, not recalling any of it.

A/N: if you've seen "Ghost Ship" then it'll help with visualizing Harry's dream. It kind of like the part where the little girl is showing the lady (cant remember her name) what happened. I just want you all to know that this is a little shorter than the next couple chapters…but I've never been the best at long chapters - that's right! I envy all you ppl that write 20 page chapters! Lol…anyways, please review if you want more Thanks a bunches!

Sarah May

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