Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have had Sirius die.

Author: RoguesHeart here. . . I like to write stories. The end.

Rating: Due to graphic scenes and language

' ' Harry's thoughts ''

'' Disembodied voices ''

'' Evil voices '' " Evil Voices" ' Evil Voices'

" " Harry and others talking " "

Summary: Death is quickly building to the residents of Hogwarts. Naturally the responsibility falls to the Boy-Who-Lived to get rid of the nuisance of Voldemort's return. But what if he can't help them? And what's happening to the Golden Trio? Why in the bloody hell did Snape go pick him up from the Durselys?


Session One: Neurosis

"Every day a struggle, every night a joke
Innocent eyes strain, looking up through the smoke
Searching for freedom from this kind of pain
But always a struggle, always a strain"

" Always seeking but never sought?…"

The voice lifted into the air, jovially brightening the mood of the dreary day.

" Can't be taken, lost, sold, or bought…"

A pair of youthful forest green eyes peered around frenetically.

" Who would want to, who would have thought… "

It had been an entire month since the incident at the Ministry of Magic which resulted in his precious grandfather being ripped away from him.

" Such a strange journey, always getting caught…."

He was still forced to reside at Number 4 Privet Drive . Notice that he didn't live there, he resided there. In order for one to live somewhere, they would have had think of it as home. And that place was far from any home in Harry's mind.

Actually no place could be considered home to the proverbially boy-who-lived. Those days had perished a long time ago along with his innocence…..and sanity.

He had come to that conclusion one night whilst laying atop his bed the previous night. Now one never came to those conclusions on their own without a certain amount of provocation. Well, rest assured, Harry James Potter got his beckoning call to the dark side of his mind that night. People do not wake up in the middle of the night, rubbing their scars swearing that their pain was causing for them to hear voices. Now granted, these weren't voices of any sort of malevolent nature, they probably would cause for a normal person to shrug it off as their overactive imagination. But to Harry, they were a sign, a beacon, a symbol that it was finally time to call it quits on the Boy-Hero persona.

Not that he had ever had a choice on whether or not he wanted to be the savior of the wizarding world but it was nice to know that he could happily decide in his head against it. But once more there goes a problem, he would have to convince Dumbledore just like he convinced himself that he was not fit for "dueling against any dark wizards".

Eh, for the time being, he would just have to soak up the limelight while the going was good because who knew when the wizarding press would turn against him again. It was insulting the way the press came after him, nagging, biting, grinding against him just to get a good story.

An unfair burden laid heavily against the shoulders of that slumped figure sitting in the middle of the road.

" Before a while….I'll find you…"

Harry brushed his slender fingers against the rippling surface of the dirt laden puddle that made itself home in one of the cracks in the street.

The Dursleys would probably slaughter him if they knew what he was doing. Dawdling around puddles of rainwater in the middle of the street is nothing a "normal" god fearing neighbor would do and they would be damned before they allowed such nonsense be seen by their oh-so-caring neighbors. Not once had Harry ever seen one person give the Durselys a passing glance except to maybe stare at their whale of a son.

Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at the thought of Uncle Vernon storming outside, his face a perfect shade of puce. Yanking the boy up by his ratty black hair, dragging him unceremoniously into the house, hurling him to the floor and beating the hell out of him.

Ah, the good old days…. Where his only worry revolved around whether or not he would stay conscious long enough to get a sip of water from the pipes that ran underneath the stairs. He had to admit, he missed those times.

At least then he knew what his adversary was planning to do. Not like Voldemort who had to plan out every millisecond of his attack strategies to a tee, making sure that every nook and cranny was filled with inescapable situations. Harry didn't mind such consideration on Tom's part but it started to become a bit bothersome when he laid down to get some sleep only to wake up screaming and drenched in his own sweat.

Now Harry had a love for the sadistic as much as the next person but Tom would go a little overboard. One night it would be him raping some fifty year old woman, the next it would somehow revert to a dreamscape in which Harry was forced to partake in death eater fun such as recruiting five year olds and enduring the pleasant ride that is death eater initiation ceremonies.

' He really is getting pathetic when toddlers can replace loyal Death Eaters..'

After a long while of "clearing his mind" (can only be spoken with a Trelawney voice), he had managed to block out most images that Tom sent his way but he still couldn't stop the pain.The cruciatus curse, for all its worth, was a nonstop thrill ride that could send him spiraling down a path of wonder and fancy. Over the weeks, he had slowly grown to enjoy the stabbing pain that would convulse through his body during periodic moments of the day. It constantly proved itself to be a reminder to him that he was still breathing, that this place hadn't mystically changed into purgatory. Not that he wasn't still doubting that factor.

Harry lifted himself off the chilled pavement of the street and dragged himself to the curb. Plopping ungraciously upon it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of menthols. Muttering a flame spell that he had learned in his first year of Hogwarts, he lit the end of the cigarette. Dragging in slowly, he let his eyelids flutter shut.

' Now is not the time for idle thoughts boy….stand up….'

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, a clear puff of smoke swirling around his head.

' I can never get a moment can I?…' he thought to himself.

' I don't appreciate that tone, boy…'

' Well I don't much appreciate yours, neither.' Harry shot back.

' How dare you speak to me like that you arrogant--..' the disembodied voice found itself cut off from its rant.

' --Arrogant, self centered, egotistical, reckless son of a bitch…Did I get everything?…' Harry spat out coolly.

' Never in all my days have I ever been spoken to in such a--….'

' Oh hold your tongue you crazed old bat….You deserved it. . . '

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance, it turned out today wasn't going to be the peaceful day that he was hoping for. The voices in his mind just always had to have a hey day celebration rife with petulant arguments on the proper ways to speak to their unwilling host. On most days, the voices were soft spoken and rarely voiced any sort of thought on their behalf. But that was probably attributed to the mere fact that he was too busy doing other things, like chores for one. Single minded thought never really comes into play when one is weeding the garden or cleaning out the spider infested basement.

Taking another drag on his cigarette, he turned his head to the gray sky and listened to the "voices" argue amongst themselves.

' Deserved it?... How did I deserve such treatment…'

'Because you never know when to just shut up.'

' Well I never. . . You take that back you filthy--…'

' No I don't think I will.'

Shifting positions on the curb, Harry decided to intervene on the pointless conversation before they started to get loud.

' Does anyone here know where I can get some cockroach clusters for half the original price?'

' What the devil are you spouting boy?…'

' I like cockroach clusters…They have just the right amount of chew for your crunch..'

' Cockroach clusters?. . . ' the other voice inquired, confusion apparent.

' Cockroach Clusters." Harry confirmed with a slight nod of his head.

' Kill the filthy mud bloods..' exclaimed loudly in the hidden section of Harry's mind.

' Pardon?…'

' Kill them all. . . Purebloods are eternal. . . ' the voice repeated.

' Ahem , we still haven't addressed the issue with my cockroach clusters yet….'

' Well once I figure out what one of those are, I'll be sure to post a message to your temporal lobe…'

Harry let out a sharp laugh, fully aware that if someone were to see him, they would believe him to be laughing at air.

' Ooh, I so want to snog Seamus Finnigan when we get back to Hogwarts…'

A cloud of menthol smoke drifted into the air, surrounding Potter like an aura.

' I don't want to ever hear anyone in here say that again… this is my mind and you may have invaded it without my permission but I refuse to allow for such thoughts to roam freely…'

' Oh you mean like when you thought they key to destroying Voldemort was showing him a picture of Umbridge as a pole dancer?. . . '

Back in the realm that was not Harry's mind, the sound of certain boy -who-lived nearly inhaling a cigarette through his nose, echoed throughout the solemnly quiet neighborhood.

' I thought we agreed to never bring that back up again….'

' But I think it might work. . . '

' Shut up, all of you just shut up…That….oh gawd….mental image……'

Harry visibly shuddered as the image crossed his mind once more.

" Bloody 'Ell…." he muttered beneath his breath.

Harry, being so caught up in traumatizing mental images, didn't notice the black figure coming up behind him.

" So its true, Gryffindor's golden boy has nothing better to do than laze about the sidewalk, smoking, and daydreaming…"

The emerald eyed boy wonder jumped in surprise, his left hand closed around his wand; his other grasped over his thudding heart.

" Great mother of pearl!…"

Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry's eccentric phrasing.

" Go retrieve your material possessions from your relatives Potter. You will be returning to Hogwarts. It has been akin to my displeasure that I must be the one to bring you."

Harry stared up at Snape for a moment, his eyes twinkling dully at the prospect of conceding to his Potions Master's command.

" I beckon thee oh sweet nectar of the fruit flies, spare me thine rod and break with my your bread for the labor is woesome…"

With that being said, Harry stepped around Snape and swept into the house with a casual ease that only too-large levi jeans and an extra large t-shirt could do.

Yeah, I've decided to end it there because I could. . . And my word is complete and utter law. Besides, it shall probably make sense in the second chapter. .. This one was more or less a tester.

Yup... this started out a bit odd... But it'll get better later...It is really a prologue more than anything.

Review for me please.