A/N: This is a remake of an old story of mine, Harry Potter and the Sword of Light. It stunk, but I think I've improved my writing skills since then. I will continue depending on how many reviews I receive, so review! Give me whatever advice you want. I'm totally open to flames.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its characters, and the awesome title of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince are all J.K. Rowling's.

A single blade in the dark…

                        A hissing voice asked him, "Do you wish to end it, now?"

                                    And a single boy bowed his head


                                    The blade rested on his chest.

The boy who lived was left with only one question, "Is this real or just a dream?"

            A flash of smoke and Voldemort was gone.

            The boy was falling into a darkened sky…

                        For a moment it was beautiful… but he continued to fall…

                                    He asked the sky,

                                                "God, don't forsake me!"

                                    and the moment before he hit the ground,

He asked the abyss, "Is this real or just a dream?"

            He landed in front of a black curtain…

                        It lead to the portal of death… someone came out of it…

                                    A man with black hair and a laugh like a bark

                                                Embraced him.

                                    It was so wonderful.

He almost forgot to ask if it was real…

A ferocious knocking pounded the bedroom door. Harry's eyes burst open. He found himself in his old room, yet again…

            "Breakfast!" his aunt's shrill voice rang throughout his skull. He sat up in bed and told himself. "It was just a dream."

            He buried his face in his hands. Too many mornings had begun like this. For one shinning moment he had almost believed Sirius was back, but that was just his mind playing tricks on him… and that made it hurt all the worse…

            His scar burned slightly. "Damn it," he swore into his hands which were now covered in salty tears. He had to stop doing this, otherwise one of these days he might not wake up.

            "Potter! Get DOWN here, NOW!" His uncle's voice echoed through the floorboards. Harry cursed again, and threw on his clothes, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. There was no time for mourning now. Never enough time for anything, really…


"I'm coming!" he yelled. He doubted whether the Dursleys even knew about Sirius. Well, he wasn't telling.

The Dursleys now kept a habit of keeping an eye on him wherever he went. He was under house arrest. He was never aloud to go outside without an adult. Never aloud to be in a room by himself except his bedroom, or the bathroom. Never aloud a moment to himself. Never. Harry was sure it was his Uncle's doing. He didn't want to see any more magic, which was fair game…

…But this was killing him. He was sure he would burst eventually. So many tears for Sirius were welling up inside, it felt like there was a lake where there should have been lungs. It only left Harry to question if he should try to leave altogether. Sirius did.

Aunt Petunia wasn't much better. She pelted him questions whenever Vernon wasn't home, or had his back turned. "Now, Harry, he's not going to attack soon, is he?";
 "Harry, you would protect us from an attack, right?"; "Harry, you know how to fight them, don't you?".  Finally he had snapped on day, and said as loud as he could so that Dudley actually looked up from the tele, "DON'T ASK QUESTIONS!"

He was so trapped in this memory that he was down in the kitchen before he knew it. "Get the mail, boy," Uncle Vernon said gruffly.

Harry obeyed. He was starting to feel like a family pet.

A hefty pile of letters laid on the rug. Harry sorted through them as fast as he could. Bill… Bill... Letter from Marge… Bill… Letter from Albus Dumbledore… He stopped abruptly. It was addressed to him, he stuffed it in his back pocket quickly. Another bill… and the last letter was addressed to Petunia Dursley, in a script that Harry recognized from nowhere. He looked on the back; a Hogwarts crest was neatly placed in the back. He felt his heart drumming. He turned it over to see that it was not from Dumbledore, or Mcgonagol, but from someone he never heard of…

Perseus Evans

Dungeons, room 131.



            "Potter, what are you doing… checking for bombs?" He had made this statement before, only now it wasn't a joke.

            Harry's head was spinning. Who was Perseus Evans? He had never met anyone by that name before. Perhaps Snape knew him, he was in the dungeons, right? But why would he be writing Aunt Petunia?

            He walked quickly to the kitchen handing the bills to Vernon, and the single letter to Petunia. "It was addressed to you," he said simply.

            He watched as Petunia looked down at the envelope in horror. She glared at Harry and then at the paper again. Her cheeks flushed in rage, "Is this a joke?" She hissed at him. Harry shook his head vigorously. She ripped the envelope and started reading. Her bony chin dropped slowly as she read. When she was done she closed her eyes. "Harry, go sit down in the living room."

            "Who is…"

            "Just do it!"

            Harry knew better than to argue. The armchair was taken by Uncle Vernon, and the couch was taken by Dudley's enormous arse. So he just sat on the floor, glumly and pretended to read a book, while shoving Dumbledore's letter between the pages. The familiar, loopy scroll danced across the page.

Dear Mr. H. Potter,


            I have come to a conclusion about your stay at the Dursley's. It is no longer fitting for you to stay there any longer.

            Harry's eyes widened so much that they looked bigger than his glasses. He was leaving the Dursley's, is he serious?????

            I told you recently that a spell would only work if you could call the place where your mother's blood resides "home". Due to the occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, it has been recognized that you haven't been able to call their residence "home" for quite some time. Thus, there is no point in having you suffer any further abuse from these ordinary people. But, know that I am not in any case forcing you out of that family. If you have any reason to stay, any reason at all, you are welcome to do so. I just see that staying with the Dursley's may be uncomfortable, undesirable, and useless at the present time. Therefore you are welcome to stay at headquarters.

            He felt as if he would jump for joy in the middle of the living room. He was leaving the Dursley's! Was this possible, after so long?

            But please note, Harry, that I'm not going to have you completely unguarded, it would be irresponsible and irrational of me to abandon all the magical barriers that went along with this spell.

            His ecstatic smile fell.

            I'm afraid I must reveal one more secret that I have been hiding. I promise this is the last secret I'll keep from you, except for your O.W.L scores (which I am not telling). But your going to have to wait, I'm sorry. Professor Snape is going to be the one to tell you, because he is more adequate on the subject.

            Professor Snape will be coming to number four, Privet Drive within the hour that you finish this letter. Please, if you wish, be prepared to leave.


                                                                   Albus Dumbledore


            For a few moments Harry just stared at the open book, stunned. Then, in one swift movement, he stood up in the middle of the living room. "Can I go to my room?"

            "No," answered Vernon.

            "Can I go to my room?" He asked Petunia.

            "No," she said, Perseus Evans' letter still in her fist.

            "Can I go to my room?"

            "No," said Dudley, grinning evilly at Harry.

            Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, "May I go to my room, please?"

            "Sit down, stupid boy, you're blocking the tele!"

            Harry sat. Good dog he thought, miserably. I should be packing right now, I want to get out of here…

            He pulled out a game of scrabble and started form words on the rug. Normally, he wouldn't put up with this, but lately he just didn't care. He didn't really care about anything, really. He formed the word, "home" and the word "dog" across it. Plus, he needed to think. Why was Snape the one who was getting him? Why not Remus, or Tonks, or Mr. Weasley? They can't all be busy. They would come and get him in a heartbeat. Why did it have to be Snape? He was the only one in the order that he hated with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Dumbledore knows that, he knows that Harry still didn't forgive him for what happened. He spelled the words "Severus Snape" with wooden letters, and began to encircle his name with words like "stupid" and "arse" and "prick". But slowly, as he was spelling the word "evil", he noticed something. He pushed the insults away in one swipe. His eyes grew unnaturally wide again. He put the E in front, then the V, and then the A and N and S from his last name. His heart was beating fast as he worked. The lone letter P, was placed in front, then he put the S next to the R and the extra E next to the U… Numb realization dawned on him. In the place where Severus Snape had been, was, in chipped wooden letter the name…


            He began to ask the question in his head, "Is this real or just a dream?" when suddenly a knocking came from the door. Severus Snape was here.

A/N: a P.S, mugglenet.com kind of came of with the anagram first. I thought it was so cool I had to put it in my story. So don't say I'm a genius for making it up, cause I didn't. Grins sheepishly Anyways, please review.