Chapter One
The thin, bespectacled boy lay reclining, staring up at the ceiling. In the corner, the alarm clock flashed midnight in bold, red numbers. Harry Potter blinked at it, uncomprehending.
He had been trapped in his upstairs bedroom- otherwise known as his cousin’s former second bedroom. His phobic aunt and uncle only gave the room to their nephew out of fear that he would perform magic on them or their son.
There had been a nasty event several years before involving Harry’s cousin, Dudley Dursley, and a pig’s tail. It was an incident where he had been guilty by association, even though he hadn't actually performed the spell. Strictly speaking, Harry wasn’t allowed to do magic outside of school at the time.
This summer, however, he was. Due to the rise of Voldemort, previously underage wizards were now allowed to perform magic outside of school. It didn’t matter to him now, although he and his friends had been anxiously awaiting such perks for ages. Nothing that used to matter to him seemed important anymore. His life was divided into the time before his godfather’s death, and after.
He sighed heavily as he flicked his lighted wand through the air, tracing naughty words above him. Each stroke left a trail like a comet. It was a new moon, and an utterly black night crept into his bedroom, effectively stifling what energy was left in the bare light bulb hanging off of the ceiling. Harry didn’t mind. The same thick shroud coloured his thoughts and emotions.
Several books lay across the floor in his room, among numerous other items forgotten or uncared for. All were on the subject of Quidditch, which was his favourite sport and the only one he was any good at. They all went unread; he hadn't been able to enjoy them lately. To anyone else, he had only been at the Dursleys’ a short time, but to Harry it felt like it had been centuries. He looked old. It was as if time was the only one who kept him company, paling his complexion and deepening his eyes. He now had the gaunt look of a starving child who has known only misery. It was a long stretch from the emotionally battered, but generally happy boy everyone knew towards the end of last term.
As he began writing ‘F-U-‘, there was a light rapping on the window. Sluggishly, Harry rolled over and saw a snowy white owl perched on the windowsill outside. “Hedwig!” said Harry, feeling slightly uplifted.
When he pushed out the glass pane, she quickly flew in. The owl promptly dropped the newspaper and letter she was carrying, and flew over to her cage. Rustling her feathers, she looked dolefully at Harry. “Well, eat up. You’ve been gone a while,” he said, and strode over to her dropped cargo on his bed. He decided to read the letter first.
Dear Harry,
I am glad to hear that you and They-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named haven’t had any confrontations. However, it might be a good idea to move about for a bit of fresh air. It may do you some good. Don’t get angry, it’s just a thought.
Everyone writes and asks about you. We all care. Perhaps you’re not ready to talk at the moment, but we will listen whenever you are ready. Ron says he expects to see you soon, so that’s certainly some good news! Some celebrations might be in line when we see you.
Love From,
Hermione
P.S. I got my O.W.L.s back yesterday. I’ve got all O’s! Isn’t that wonderful? Mum and Dad have decided to take me on a holiday to Greece as a reward. We have family there, so that will be fun as well. I hope to see you as soon as possible!
“Let’s talk about it,” mimicked Harry. “Why does everyone want me to talk?” he asked himself as he fell back onto the bed. "How can I talk? They wouldn't really understand anyway. This is my burden. O.W.L.s? Who the hell cares about test scores at a time like this?" he thought. Harry was always in a perpetual state of angst these days and didn’t know how to crawl out of it.
A small voice in his head, sounding a lot like his good friend Hermione’s, gently admonished him for being angry. She’s just trying to help. She’s trying to take your mind off of Sirius.
He looked curiously down at Hermione's crumpled letter, tightly clutched in his fist. When did that happen?
He got a little something in his eye as he straightened out the letter, and put it in the top drawer with the others. He didn't know when she would be off for vacation, so he decided to wait to write her back. Usually, he did so immediately. At the end of last term, Mad-Eye Moody threatened the Dursleys with harm if the Order didn't hear from Harry often.
There were quite a few letters. Some were from various Weasley family members. Some were from his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. The rest were from various members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group that worked against the most evil wizard on earth, Lord Voldemort (or “You-Know-Who” to most of the magical world). All offered help, laughter, comfort, and sympathy. At the end of last term, Harry lost his godfather, whom he loved dearly as both friend and surrogate father.
Sirius died in a dueling battle with a Death Eater, a follower of Voldemort. Harry was having a hard time dealing with the fact that he had led his godfather to his doom. He knew he would probably never fully forgive himself.
It happened only weeks ago, Harry remembered with a pang. "It’s my fault you died...” he whispered into the cold night. He felt like crying, but couldn’t. He was tired of the sadness.
He lay there for a moment, recalling the moment of his death, and shaking slightly with pain. In his mind’s eye, he watched as Sirius fell back through that mysterious archway; his once handsome face agape with shock.
Even as Harry agonized over his loss, he couldn’t resist the vague, nagging feelings about the archway. He had heard voices from the other side. His classmate, Luna, said she heard it too. Did falling through really mean death?
As ideas pestered his exhausted emotions, he eventually realized he had been staring at Hedwig. She had finished her meal and was gazing intently back at Harry.
“Hello, old girl,” Harry said as he stood. He absently began scratching her neck the way she liked and then realized he hadn’t yet looked at the newspaper lying on his bed. “DAILY PROPHET,” it barked out in blocked letters across the top.
Last summer, Harry would periodically become enraged because he wasn’t privy to all of the news, as his friends were. This summer, he hoped there would be more information included within the folding pages. The Order could not deal out crucial intelligence, so the paper was his only source.
At least Hermione wasn't at headquarters. She could at least give him more personally relevant information.
It was depressing to look at the front page. Instead of covering different stories as usual, the writers had taken to putting a full obituary on the front page every day. When the word finally spread about Lord Voldemort’s return, he and his followers pulled down all barriers, and were killing several wizards and Muggles every day.
Harry wanted to throw it down. All those pictures of people smiling, winking, and all the time moving toward their doom depressed him. “Disgusting,” he growled.
As unpleasant as the task was, however, he had to see. He had to make sure it was no one he knew. It was bound to happen one day. However, each day that passed he was able to think to himself, "Not today."
Fortunately, today, all the named dead were unfamiliar to him. He hastily refolded the paper and threw it in the bin. He didn't care to read the rest today. Another day was hard fought and won. He’d made it through one more time. Grief overtook him often, but each minute was a triumph over the death that shadowed him. He decided he would not succumb, and he would not give another friend over so carelessly if he could possibly stop it.
These days he slept a lot. What energy he gained from moving around quickly diminished, and again he collapsed onto his bed. He watched the cracks in the wall until they broke open to reveal dreams of the archway and the only father he had ever known.
Life of the Legend: A Year Six Story by AlexisTaylor
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer: Please be aware that I fully recognise JKR's right to the characters and various elements of this fiction. Only a few tidbits are actually mine, but still operating in the Potterverse we all love.