Disclaimer: Obviously, I didn't write the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rowling is responsible for those masterpieces, and I will always worship her for it. Please don't sue me. I'm already poor and my mom would yell at me.

Author's note: Please have mercy. This is a very short chapter, and my first ever. I know it's not very good, but I do hope to improve. Any advice, comments, ideas, etc… are gratefully accepted, or at least considered. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: Homecoming

It was on a day of suffocating heat that Harry Potter once again found himself in the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive. A small part of his consciousness reminded him that he should feel anger at once again being abandoned in this muggle hell, but in his current state of emotional and physical exhaustion, Harry felt strangely apathetic.

The effects of many sleepless nights and poor verging on non-existent eating habits were quickly taking their toll on his body. Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts had been the most stressful by far, and became nearly unmanageable after Sirius… Harry abruptly stopped that train of thought. To actually contemplate the truth of what had happened would be to make it real. He was saved from further thought on the subject by a loud pounding on the window his forehead was resting against.

"…will not have you ignoring me regardless of what your freak friends threaten! Get out!" Vernon Dursley bellowed, his face becoming purpler with every passing second. "If you don't open this door and bring your FREAK things inside in the next five seconds, I'll pull you out myself and knock the stuffing out of you!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry took his time wrenching the door open. He carefully stood up and proceeded to stretch out his arms and legs and kneaded his aching neck. Deciding to test his Uncle's patience (and therein the power of the Order's threat as well), Harry leaned back against the car, yawned loudly, and began to clean his glasses with the corner of his shirt.

Uncle Vernon, now quaking with fury, seemed to be fighting an inner battle between ignoring his nephew's insolent behavior or beating Harry to a bloody pulp and risking an invasion of stick-wielding freaks. He settled for a swift and strong slap to the back of Harry's head, and stomped off toward the house where an anxious looking Petunia and a hateful-looking walrus resembling Harry's cousin Dudley stood waiting. Obviously, even a man as eerily frightening and obviously abnormal as Mad-Eye Moody wasn't enough to quell the Dursleys' disgust of Harry.

Harry shrugged uncaringly and turned to retrieve Hedwig from the backseat. "Well, Girl? What do you say? Ready for another lovely summer with our favorite muggle family?" Hedwig just stared at him as if he belonged in St. Mungo's Mental Ward.

That night, Harry lay on his bed fiddling with the pieces of a camcorder Dudley had destroyed a year before. Attempting to fix it was probably a lost cause, but it gave him something to do. Besides, Harry mused, he had a better shot at mending the camcorder than he did the disaster that was his life.

An hour later, Harry flopped over onto his back and began to stare at the ceiling. His mind was beginning to lose its focus, and he knew that all the broken toys in the world could not keep him awake when it was now three days since he had last slept. He wished he had some Dreamless Sleep potion, or caffeine pills, or even the legal use of his wand so he could at least cast a silencing charm on himself to muffle the sound of the screams that were sure to come. Harry knew, however, that summers at Privet Drive did not allow for such luxuries. He was as alone now as he had been before he had ever heard of magic, Hogwarts, and the man called Sirius Black. And it was with the smothering guilt and grief associated with his godfather that Harry dropped off into a fitful sleep.

Harry was running through the Department of Mysteries with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna in hot pursuit. He turned a corner and found himself face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange and countless other faceless Death Eaters. Harry reached for his wand, but to his surprise, found it missing.

Lestrange cackled wickedly. "Little baby Potter has forgotten his wand! Why, I'm sorry, little Harry, but you can't play with the big kids unless you bring the right toys…We'll be happy to include your little friends in our game though…" The mass of Death Eaters echoed her laughter.

Hermione lifted her wand and made to curse Bellatrix. Before a word escaped her lips, however, the Death Eater giggled "Crucio", and she collapsed to the ground with screams born of unimaginable pain.

"NO!" shouted Harry desperately. He tried to attack Lestrange with his bare hands, and found himself frozen to the spot. Unable to move, he was forced to watch as the rest of the Death Eaters used various curses on his friends, his friends who he had thoughtlessly led straight into this trap.

Tears streamed down his face as he helplessly watched his friends writhe on the ground, and one by one, become silent and still. He closed his eyes and wished for it to just end. He wished Bellatrix or any one of Voldemort's servants would just take his life as well.

When he reopened his eyes, he was kneeling before the eerily fluttering curtain of the very arch Sirius had fallen through. Harry gasped when a hand shot out from behind the veil and stretched about in search of something to grasp onto. Using the arch as leverage, the hand pulled until an entire body had emerged. Harry looked up and met the accusing glare of his dead mother.

"I gave my life for you, and what do you do to repay my sacrifice? You destroy the lives of everyone your father and I cared about! You got Sirius killed, when all he wanted to do was protect you!" She shrieked.

James Potter slowly rose to join her. Unlike his wife's pained screams, his voice was level and saturated with sadness and disappointment. "Harry, we gave up everything so that you could grow up and become a good man. How could you do this?" He shook his head sadly, "Dumbledore should never have sent you a letter. If he hadn't, Sirius wouldn't have been killed, Remus wouldn't be suffering, and your friends, those poor children, wouldn't be in danger. Hell, Voldemort would still be nothing more than a feared name if it weren't for you."

At this point, Harry's whole body was shuddering with sobs. Unable to meet his father's eyes, he buried his face in his hands.

"Feeling guilty, Potter?" echoed another familiar voice. Afraid but unable to resist matching a face to the voice, Harry reluctantly glanced up at the once youthful face of Cedric Diggory. His handsome face was now twisted into a hateful, angry scowl that Harry could never have imagined on the kind Hufflepuff . "I wish I could feel anything at all. But no, famous Harry Potter had to have it all. Merlin forbid you only make out with the trophy; no, you had to be the HERO, the survivor who brought back the body of that poor, unfortunate Diggory boy. And to think I helped you!" Cedric cried mockingly.

"Please, it wasn't like that…" Harry begged between sobs, "I'm sorry Cedric, please…it wasn't supposed to be like this…I didn't know…" His breath caught in his throat as he saw a final, lanky form emerging from the gaping archway. Harry knew who this was; had been expecting him from the moment he had opened his eyes to the sight of the flapping veil. "Sirius," he whispered hoarsely.

Sirius closed his eyes sadly. Harry choked back another sob.

Sirius opened his eyes, but he kept his focus on the floor. When he spoke, Harry could barely even recognize his voice, for Harry had never heard his godfather speak with such a calm and deadly tone before. "Oh Harry. How could you do this to me? All I wanted to do was make things better for you. All I got was two years after Azkaban. Why couldn't you just listen to Dumbledore? You didn't even try to learn Occlumency. I could be helping undo the mess you made of the wizarding world by bringing Voldemort back if you had just made an effort to stay out of trouble, out of the way. I tried so hard to keep you safe. Harry, I LOVED you," Sirius suddenly stared straight at Harry, and his voice hardened, "I loved you, and you threw it back in my face."

"No, Sirius, I didn't, I loved you too," Harry cried, "Please forgive me Sirius, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, I couldn't take it if you did!" Harry was desperate now, he needed Sirius to understand, needed his forgiveness.

Sirius watched him, and looked to be mulling Harry's pleas over in his mind. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, Harry, but it's too late. Nothing can take back your actions now. I'm dead because of you, dead like your parents, like Cedric, and like many more soon to follow. It's time for you to go; you can't stay here any longer."

"No, I can't go now, please, you have to understand! I didn't want any of this to happen! I thought I was helping you, PLEASE LISTEN! Please stay," Harry sobbed, but even as he screamed and cried and begged, he could feel the world around him begin to fade. The edges of his vision blurred and darkened until all that remained was the accusing glares of four people he had failed the most.

As the nightmare faded, Harry slowly regained consciousness with the help of some rough slaps and the shouting of several voices. He was not surprised to open his eyes to the sight of his furious uncle; arm raised and prepared to administer another hard smack to Harry's already sore cheek. Behind him, Aunt Petunia crouched fearfully over her whale of a son, caressing his disheveled blond hair and glaring daggers at Harry. Dudley simply looked annoyed and angry at being awoken.

Still in shock but in terrible need of privacy to think over the dream, Harry swiped a hand across his face to dry his tears. Looking up at Uncle Vernon, whose hand was still raised, Harry quietly and hoarsely said, "Thanks, but if that'll be all, you can all go back to bed now." With that, he sat up, pulled his knees to his chest, and attempted to get his breathing under control.

"IF THAT WILL BE…GO BACK TO..." Vernon spluttered, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THIS BOY, WAKING US UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITH YOUR PATHETIC SCREAMING?!?"

Harry just blinked at him, still disoriented and wondering what his uncle was still doing in his room. There was a long silence as Vernon Dursley just stared at his nephew, trying to decide whether Harry was serious or not. Before his uncle could become any more furious or violent, Harry spoke up.

"If it would help you rest more peacefully, I could summon my friend with the bowler hat to cast a spell on me to put me in an enchanted sleep. He'll be wondering how my first day back for the summer went, anyway. I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." Harry ground out in a voice rough from sleep and exhaustion.

The mere mention of Mad-Eye Moody had Harry's desired effect on Uncle Vernon. As quickly as the purple shade of the man's face changed to white, all intentions of maiming his nephew were forgotten. Besides, what good would strangling the boy into blessedly silent unconsciousness do if violent freaks broke down the doors mere moments later? While any scenario involving his nephew would doubtless be unpleasant, the idea of more of the boy's kind entering the Dursley household was downright unthinkable.

Decision made, Vernon turned and ushered his wife and son back into the hallway. He paused in the doorway and glared back at Harry once more. "I will be generous and let your rude disruption slide tonight. However, I suggest that you either find a way to sleep in silence like a normal human being, or find a new place to sleep!" Harry barely registered the slamming of the door as he settled back into the lumpy bed. He briefly entertained the idea of taking the latter part of his uncle's advice before his thoughts were turned back to the dark contents of his nightmare.