Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all rights to the Harry Potter Universe. If I did, I wouldn't be worrying about paying bills…
Prologue: Boredom and Memories
Number 4 Privet Drive looked like your typical household: the grass was green, the hedges trimmed, and everyone inside asleep.
Except for one.
Sitting in the smallest room, staring morosely at the ceiling, was a black-haired, bespectacled boy of about 15. Soon to been sixteen, actually.
Harry Potter may have seemed like an average teenager, but nothing could be further from the truth. For not only was Harry Potter a boy, but also a wizard.
An unhappy wizard, at the moment.
"…Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two." Harry sighed, and went to gather the deck of cards that now lay in the bottom of the wastebasket.
He was bored. Being stuck at the Dursleys for a countless number of weeks was enough to drive anyone crazy. Even potions homework would be better. There was nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Harry was left alone with his thoughts, for perhaps the first time in years.
Harry got up and wandered over to the window. It was a cloudy night, which matched Harry's mood. Ever since the death of his godfather, Harry wanted nothing to do with other people. He dutifully wrote a letter to the Order every three days, but only so they would leave him alone.
A pile of letters from his friends lay in his desk, asking if he was okay, and saying they were sorry, saying it wasn't his fault. He appreciated their efforts, but wished they would stop. He didn't want to be reminded of what had happened in the Department of Mysteries. No matter what they said, it was his fault. If it hadn't been for him, Sirius wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries, and he would still be alive.
* FLASHBACK *
It seemed it took Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…
* END FLASHBACK *
Feeling the familiar lump in his throat, he closed his eyes and pushed the memories away. As he climbed into bed, he prayed for a night of sleep not haunted by dreams, and that somehow, things would start looking better.