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HP stories following Canon including OotP >> Harry Potter: The Sixth Year by ameristrat

Simple Text - To view MORE chapters use the chapter jump box to the right.
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Chapter 1

Harry lay on his bed staring out of the window, in such a still state that he may have been unconscious. He had remained this way almost constantly for the first three weeks of this summer which was turning out to be even worse than his last. He had only eaten and drank enough to sustain himself and looked as if he was on his deathbed.


Harry was a boy like no other. To one who didn’t know him, he looked rather insignificant and underfed. He looked very frail, as if you could push him over with a small gust of wind. The only interesting part of his appearance was a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He had received this in what the Dursleys said was a car crash that killed his parents. But Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash, far from it; they had been murdered by one of the most powerful dark wizards ever. He had turned to kill Harry the same way as Voldemort had killed his parents, but Harry had escaped with nothing but the scar while Voldemort had lost his body and fled. The people who knew him knew he was far from significant and not only for his initial defeat of the Dark Lord but also for the young man he had become. He was brave, caring, and unbelievably loyal; the marks of a true Gryffindor. He was one of the few people if not the only person to have fought with and survived the fight with Voldemort on five different occasions.


Just three weeks earlier he and five of his friends had gone into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic and had battled death eaters. In the fight, Harry lost Sirius, his godfather and the only father figure he had ever been able to remember.
‘If I had just tried harder in Occlumency, he wouldn’t have died.’ He thought
This was one of the things that had been driving Harry into his state for the summer. The other was the prophecy. He didn’t even want to think about that. He guessed he should’ve seen that coming. Why else would Voldemort come after him that often?


Everyday he had received owls but he hadn’t opened a letter yet. He would relieve the owl of its burden and throw the letter in the ever-growing mountain that lay beside the window, and sank back into his stupor. True to his word he sent a letter back every third day but they were identical every time.

Weasleys,
I’m fine, no problems
Harry


As for the people on the receiving end of his letters, they were pretty sure no one had ever been less fine. Mrs. Weasley had gone ballistic at Dumbledore multiple times for not letting Harry come but he had responded the same to each explosion;
“Molly I want Harry to leave the Dursley’s just as badly but he is safer there for now which is much more important.”

Everyone who was staying at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had sent him at least one letter and they were getting increasingly worried with his responses. None more so, however, than his friends. Even last year, as bad as things were for Harry, he had written them and he had not. Ron spent most of his time by himself just thinking about what was going on and in what state they would find Harry. Hermione, who had arrived a few days earlier, and Ginny were now constantly close to tears. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville had all made full recoveries from their battle at the ministry and All were grieving for Sirius in some way. For Neville and Luna, they mostly felt bad for Harry to have another father figure taken away. For Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, however, they were crushed by his loss. They had been great friends with Sirius. As bad as they felt, they knew Harry would probably feel ten times as bad. Add that to the guilt he probably would have placed on himself and they didn’t see how he could survive the summer.


What they didn’t know was the prophecy which made things even harder on Harry. This weighed Harry down almost just as badly. He didn’t understand why it had to be him. Everything had to be him, every burden. Harry knew he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even Draco Malfoy, but that didn’t make it any easier on him.


Harry had no idea what time it was. It had been dark for a while so he guessed it would’ve been around midnight. There used to be a clock in his room, but on the second day of summer he had thrown it against the wall and shattered it in frustration. He was, surprisingly, feeling slightly hungry and decided it was safe to sneak down and get a snack.


“Twelve Thirty-seven.” He said aloud “Dursleys must be asleep.”
His voice was raspy and weak from the lack of use and didn’t sound much like it used to. He grabbed a glass of water and an apple and, after finishing them off, put the dishes quietly in the sink and snuck back up t his room.


Harry hadn’t slept well since the beginning of the summer. He could fall asleep, but always had dreams of the deaths of his friend which he suspected Voldemort sent him to weaken him, and replays of Cedric and Sirius dying. Occasionally, he would have a dream of the Chamber, and seeing Voldemort on the back of Quirrell’s head but didn’t have as much of a problem with those. He’d already seen those too often. No, the most common dream was of Sirius going through the veil. Tonight was no different. Harry saw Dumbledore come into the room and looked over to see Sirius dueling Bellatrix while mocking her. A stunner hit him in the chest and he gracefully arched into the veil and


“NOOOO!!” yelled Harry aloud. He heard a thud. ‘ Oh shit, now I get to get yelled at by Uncle Vernon’ he thought


“ BOY” roared Uncle Vernon as if on cue, “ KEEP THE BLOODY RACKET DOWN!”

‘Well,’ thought Harry, ‘that could’ve been worse.’

Harry hadn’t even realized he screamed aloud. It happened almost every night and this had his dear uncle close to chucking him out of the house. It wasn’t that he was trying to provoke his uncle, he couldn’t help it. Plus, his uncle was like Snape, he tried to find anything he could that was wrong with Harry and bring that out. Thinking that his attempts at sleep would be futile as they almost always were after a nightmare, he waited until he could here the deep grunting snores of his uncle and went back to the kitchen. Looking at the clock he saw it was 2:30.
‘Great! What a waste of two hours.’ He thought.

Harry had slept even worse in the beginning of the summer and as a byproduct of that, had finished all of his homework in the first week. He almost smiled at the thought of the looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces when he told them he’d already finished it. Ron would think he was mad and Hermione would be thrilled and lecture Ron about doing it early. He realized it had been three days since he last wrote so he quietly ventured back up to his room to write his letter. As usual, he briefly considered telling them what was really going on but, also as usual, decided against it. He didn’t want their pity, he just wanted to be left alone. Pulling out a piece of parchment he quickly scribbled out…

Headquarters,
I’m fine. Dursley’s are treating me well.
Harry

He sent the letter with Hedwig and retired back to his bed. He didn’t realize just how exhausted he was and fell asleep the second he hit the pillow.

Harry really was tired. He slept for a little longer than an entire day. He didn’t know this of course, so when he got up and it was dark outside he cursed under his breath.
‘I can’t sleep fro three hours. A least I didn’t have a nightmare.’ He thought

He went down into the kitchen again and saw that it was 3:05.
Oh even better. Half an hour.
He then caught sight of the newspaper and saw the date.
Or maybe a day and half an hour. I really was tired.

Now that he thought of it he was feeling a little bit stronger and much more rested. He considered going upstairs to get more sleep but a story on the front page of the newspaper caught his eye. There was a picture along with it where there was a whole row of houses in ruins. It said that there was an explosion and twenty-three people had died. Harry looked at the picture again and what he saw made his heart sink. The Dark Mark was shimmering in the background. As he read on, it said that there were men in black cloaks and masks running in and out of the houses before they were destroyed. They were believed to have caused the explosion. A boiling anger rose up through his body. How could anyone torture muggles? They were defenseless. Those death eaters bloody well better run the next time he saw them, because he was going to rip them limb from limb.

Right after the anger he felt guilt. All the people that died in this war would be his responsibility. His fault because he wasn’t ready to fight. For what was probably the thousandth time this summer, he asked himself why it had to be him. He slowly walked back up to his room and fell on his bed staring at the ceiling and fell back into his stupor.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had been up late talking. Ginny left and headed for bed while thinking about their conversation. They were talking about Harry again. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all very worried about him. Ginny didn’t want to care. Well, no, she wanted to care, but she wanted to be over her crush. Yes, she had said she was over it, and she almost even made herself believe she was. The truth, however, was that She still really liked and maybe even loved Harry. It had been a crush, but now that she talked to him, and gotten to know him, she thought she really loved him. At first she had had the crush because of who he was and it intensified after the loyalty and care he had shown her in the Chamber. After that, he had never blamed her when he explained what had happened. In truth, she only went out with Michael Corner to get her mind off of Harry but he was just a prat. She said she had chosen Dean just for the look on Ron’s face and it was worth it. The look on his face was priceless. She was worried sick about Harry. She knew he’d be beating himself up and she had written four letters to him and had not received one back. There was a suspicion between Ron, Hermione, and herself that Harry had not read any of his mail, and they all hoped he’d be okay. Her mother had been almost constantly close to tears and if she wasn’t so worried about Harry, she probably would’ve sent him a howler. She couldn’t stand to see her mother upset. Lately, there had been an uneasy feeling around headquarters. There were meetings every night for the order members and the three teens thought it was about Harry. She knew he was supposed to be safe but worried all the same. Ginny, along with the rest of her family and Hermione, just wanted Harry there with them where he could be around people who actually cared for him; here with his real family. With that troubling thought, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.



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