It had been, for Harry Potter, a very typical summer. Despite the fact that he had just emerged from one of the most traumatic and stressful school-years he had ever experienced; despite the fact that Voldemort had returned; despite the fact that Harry had been a Triwizard Champion and in fact won the tournament; despite the fact that he had fought a dragon and watched a schoolmate die - despite all that, it was very typical.
Meet Vernon Dursley, his very Muggle and very offensive uncle, at King's Cross Station.
Nod dutifully and silently (as the Dursleys preferred him) while Vernon told him what a disgraceful, ungrateful, and generally awful young brat he was.
Return to Little Whinging, Surrey, where he had to hide his school supplies and homework under loose floorboards in his bedroom and cater to his relatives' every whim. Actually, that was less true than in years past - first of all, he had the threat of an escaped-convict-protective-godfather (in the form of Sirius Black) hanging over the Dursleys' ugly heads; and secondly, as the years passed he grew less and less willing to give into his relatives' bullying. After his fourth year, he was very unwilling indeed.
Still, teenage defiance and newfound maturity only went so far. He did enough chores, mostly of the outdoor variety, to justify his spending most of the day alone. His meals were left, cold and unappetizing, on a plate in the kitchen - he did not eat with the Dursley family.
He did his homework, reread some of the Muggle literature that had been his escape in pre-Hogwarts days (he was very fond of the Dark is Rising sequence) but mostly brooded. Contrary to what many of his friends seemed to think, Harry was not drowning in self-loathing about what had happened to Cedric. He had seen Voldemort order Cedric's death - it was yet another trauma to lay at the Dark Lord's feet. But just because he did not blame himself did not mean remembering the night at the graveyard wasn't horrible. He had many nightmares involving, in a ghastly mixed-up way, the last words of his parents and of Cedric, of being tortured by the Deatheaters and Voldemort himself with the Cruciatus curse, and of the green light that marked the Avada Kedavra and was Harry's first memory.
Still, all-in-all, it was a very normal summer, unmarked with the excitement of the Quidditch World Cup, attempted escapes, or the Dark Mark.
He had no idea about how all of that would change on his fifteenth birthday.
I own nothing. Deatheaters, Voldemort, Quidditch, and of course adorable Harry Potter do not belong to me. (I'd take Harry, though, if JK were to offer)
Wow, my first Harry Potter fanfic. After three years of reading HP fics, you'd think I'd've got off my duff sooner. Well, actually, I began writing _this_ about a year and more back. It was just abandoned on my laptop's hard drive for that amount of time. ^_^ For that reason, this will not be taking 'Order of the Phoenix' into account in regards to the continuity. In other words: SIRIUS LIVES!
Since this is the intro, only, it's remarkably devoid of anything resembling plot, story, or interesting factors. I _swear_ it'll pick up later, though. This is, by the way, a crossover. With what? I'll tell you next chapter. ;)