Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does. I am making no money off of this. J. K. Rowling is. I only wish I was J. K. Rowling. But I'm not. Darnit!

WARNING: This story will have SUICIDAL themes and Pre-SLASH. Slash, for any of you who do not know, is two guys falling in love and kissing and all that kind of stuff. In other words, homosexuality. If any of this bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. It's that simple. If anyone complains about it, you will be ignored since you obviously ignored me. This is your only warning.

Author's Note: This is a pre-slash fic; but the sequel, and I do plan on writing a sequel, will be completely slash. Also, this is one of my first fanfics, so bear with me.

So, anyway, on to the story.

Chapter One: The Worst Summer

A long, hot summer was drawing to a close. And for one boy on Privet Drive, the summer couldn't end soon enough. Harry Potter couldn't wait for school to start up again. Of course, Harry didn't really want to return to Hogwarts, not after what had happened in his fifth year; but anything, even returning to Hogwarts, was better than life with the Dursleys.

This summer was the worst summer in Harry Potter's life, for many reasons. His relatives had forced him to stay inside the house since they didn't want a repeat of the last summer with the Dementors. So Harry couldn't even take a walk around the block to relieve his stress and anxiety. Not that taking a walk would help much, since he would, of course, be followed by one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Normally he would send a letter to either Ron or Hermione, complaining about his treatment by the Dursleys; but his owl, Hedwig, had been confined to the Hogwarts Owlery for the entirety of the summer. His friends weren't even allowed to send him any letters, for fear that Voldemort might intercept them.

Voldemort, another factor of why this was his worst summer. Yeah, sure, the Ministry and the wizarding world now knew Harry was telling the truth all along, that he wasn't delusional or anything; but that didn't change the fact that the darkest wizard ever wanted him dead. So, because of that, like always, Dumbledore had put even more restrictions on Harry, including having someone 'watch over' him. Stalk him was more what they did, though.

Dumbledore, one of Harry's least favorite people. He didn't know if he could trust Dumbledore anymore, not after what he had learned from him at the end of last year. Harry still couldn't believe that Dumbledore, and many others he had put his trust in, had lied to him all those years. After all Harry had been through, they still thought of him as a weak little boy who needed protecting from the truth and life.

And then there was Sirius. No matter how much anyone told him that it wasn't Harry's fault, Harry couldn't help but to blame himself for Sirius's death. That was probably the main reason why Harry was feeling so down. His godfather, the first and only person who had ever truly cared for him and had wanted him was dead, and it was all Harry's fault.

And going to Sirius's funeral did not help him at all. In fact, it had made Harry feel even worse, if that was even possible since he was already depressed enough to begin with.

The funeral took place a week after school had ended. Remus had somehow talked Dumbledore into letting Harry attend it. Harry didn't know whether to be grateful or not.

A part of Harry didn't want to go to the funeral. The pain of Sirius's death had been too recent and fresh in Harry's mind. And to be truthful, Harry was angry at Sirius for leaving hi mall alone.

So, obviously, the funeral hadn't gone very well for Harry. Harry hadn't wanted to speak to anybody, not even to Remus, Ron, or Hermione, who were all there; and he didn't want to be around anybody. He just wanted to be by himself which was impossible. All of the Weasley's were there and every member of the Order who he had met the summer before were there; and they all wanted to talk to Harry about his 'loss'. They all told him that he shouldn't blame himself, 'it was Voldemort's fault, not yours', and that he should be extra careful since 'Voldemort will be looking for you'. Since when was Voldemort not looking for him?

At the end of that day, Harry was so sick and tired of hearing the same bullshit over and over again that he almost told them all that he didn't care if Voldemort killed him and that they could all go to Hell for all he cared.

But Harry didn't say that, any of it. He couldn't.

After all, he was Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived. And Harry Potter didn't act like that. Harry Potter was strong and never gave up.

Harry Potter would never tell the headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, to go fuck himself.

Even though that was what Harry wanted to tell the old man.


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