AN: SO..this is a rewrite of 'chapter 0", It was and (Kind of still is) a plot bunny, but I've written a couple of chapters after recently rewriting this. Not sure what will become of it, but it is definitely a WIP. Will try to update at least every two weeks if not sooner, no promises.

As for any pairings, again I am not sure but it will not be Ginny, or any Drarry. Its possible he'll end up with no one but if he does it'll be anyone other than them. Severus will play a major role in the story and he's not a bad guy in this, he just has to be a git because he's forced to so at the very least it will be Mentor!Snape-ish.

This will be slightly Dumbledore Bashing, but that's all.

Also, please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. Not the best of writers and I don't have a Beta.

Hope you Enjoy and feel free to PM or Review with any comments, questions, and concerns.

.0Oo..00..oO0.

Pain is an Illusion

~July 5, 1995~

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Startled green eyes snapped open, instinctively searching for a lingering sign of disturbance. Slightly disoriented, Harry struggled to come to, aware of only the inky blackness that clouded his vision. He reached out blindly, searching for his bedside lamp only to come across empty space. Alarmed, he reached out again and felt around for his bed only to be greeted by hard stone. It was smooth, almost silk-like and cold, shockingly so. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings, or the lack of. There was nothing, nothing at all, just that smothering darkness.

Unease began to settle in pit of his stomach, slowly raking its claws up across his diaphragm. Terrified, he struggled to catch his breath, gasping frantically. His lungs clenched and spasmed, straining for air. Harry coughed violently, choking on the congealed darkness as it filled his lungs. The darkness became almost tarlike as it spread down his throat, filling up his mouth, nose and down into his throat and lungs. Panicked, Harry thrashed against the dense black mass that surrounded him. His senses dulled, engulfed in an impenetrable stillness; an intangible and unyielding force of deafening silence.

His thoughts and senses slowly became distorted, fragmented as his body and mind was submerged by the transcendent force that was unknown to him. Hazily, Harry recalled having a body but his perception of it was gone. He felt unhindered by flesh and bone, yet still felt the ghost of it linger. I wonder if this is what jellyfishes feel like? He mused to himself. I know that I should have a body, but I feel like I'm floating.

Distressed, he let a wave of magic flare out into the void, to get a feel of his surroundings if any, but as soon as he did, his magic hit a wall, a field of static that is neither there nor anywhere in the pockets of space. He started to hyperventilate in his panic, I'm trapped! He realized. "Please, someone help me!" he screamed out into the darkness. As he did so, Harry began to feel the invisible walls of static and noise close in on him. Pressing down on lungs he didn't have.

Burning.

Harry felt phantom tendrils of the static lick up his body, burning like acid on the ghost of his skin, blazing up his arms, chest, and legs, seeping into his veins. The invisible walls crush his phantasm bones into piles of dust. The sound of static slithers into his soul, wrapping, entwining in the weavings of memory and magic, squeezing relentlessly. Faintly, he hears someone screaming, is that me? Am I screaming, he thought, disoriented, All I feel is pain, there is nothing but pain. The agony continued for an indiscernible amount of time, as any preconceptions about it and of its existence had been forgotten.

And yet, even during all that pain and misery, Harry could still form conscious thought. He could count, calculate difficult arithmetic equations, and reflect on his past and the decisions he had made. Though, doing so did not alleviated any of the pain. The precious gift of consciousness was not a gift at all, as some would think, but a curse inflicted on his sorry soul. For pain and thought would only lead to guilt and blame. It only made the sufferer think of the mistakes they had made and the actions they should have taken.

And during his reflection, Harry realized that after so many years of loneliness and carnage, the truth in those memories. The horrifyingly ugly truth that had always haunted him from the corners of his unraveling mind. That the worst thing about being lied to, is realizing that you weren't worth the truth.

And that only added to the fire.

"Stop." A clear, crisp, voice demanded, cutting through the haze of agony and painful introspection. "Do not give in, take a deep breath and count back from ten."

What? Harry was confused. I- can't, please, I don't under-

"You don't need to, just listen to me, Harry, listen to me." The voice commanded. Did I say that out load? He wondered idly.

"Harry. Listen to me." The voice said with exasperation. It belonged to a female, but it lacked any warmth or compassion. It was cold, dark, and distant, not unlike the darkness around him.

"Concentrate, focus only on the sound of my voice. Clear your mind of anything else." She instructed, sounding a little irritated, as if she was impatient or possibly a little disa-

A new wave of agony cut off his inner monologue, but this pain was different than before, it was cool and crisp like waves of ice and electricity.

Harry panted heavily as he tried to focus on clearing his mind.

In a moment of delirious humor, he snickered, If only Snape could see me now. The blasted bat would be so pleased, but –Of course– not about my skills in occlumency.

"Are you focused? Can you hear me?" The woman's irritation was palpable now, she was not pleased.

A tidal wave of electric pain hit him again, at full force, drawing him deeper into a sea of misery.

"Ignore it, Harry. Ignore the pain. Pain, Harry, is only an illusion. A misconception of something that is thought to exist. Pain does not exist, just like the monsters Harry, they only exist if you let them."

Monsters?

"Do you understand?"

No. "Yes", he gasped in desperation. Help me! Please, make it stop!

"Okay, now, again, take a deep breath and count back from ten. Are you ready?"

Yes...

He took a deep breath and counted. As he counted, past all the pain and delirium, a small, disembodied voice whispered to him.

"Ten."

Pain…

"Nine."

Isn't…

"Eight."

Real…

"Seven."

Fight…

"Six."

Fight...

"Five."

Until ….

"Four."

You're...

"Three."

free...

"Two. "

Don't...

Abruptly, the shroud of darkness that clung to his mind was hurled away, a swirling mass of black clouds vanishing into a vortex of light, and in its place was its counter. The resulting cacophony was maddening; a waterfall of noise cascading over him, leaving him deaf to everything else but the sound of rushing water and sporadic thumps flooding his senses. It was the sound of his own lungs and heart, struggling to keep him afloat. The turbulance took residence along with only a blinding, tunnel of light to accompany it. Then, as quickly as it came it was gone, slowly at first, then faster and faster as Harry fell back into the rising darkness, like waves of the sea, with startling realism.

"One."

Forget….

When Harry opened his eyes, the darkness was gone as was the blinding white. Now, there is only gray and a single blinking ray of a pale-yellow emitting from the ceiling.

Harry started at the sound of a throat clearing and turned to where he thought the sound came from. To his left, sat a woman, her harsh face stoic. She was young, around Sirius' age, he guessed and was dressed in a white coat, similar to that of muggle healers...

The woman was siting in a wooden chair, with a clipboard in hand. She was… slanted, no, not her, the ground. Harry looked down, and saw the rest of his body, he was laying down, strapped to a metal operation table, and dressed in a pale green medical gown.

He froze.

What...

No...No. This can't be happening, not again. How did they...

"Now. Mr. Potter, shall we begin Phase Two?"