Note: Sorry for taking so long to post this I had computer problems…. As always I do not own any thing having to do with Harry Potter so please don't sue I have no money. I would like to thank my Beta Jessi a.k.a. Krillball6 you are a good friend thanks The Dark Child By: potterfan2006

Between Harry's sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts he fell into a deep depression, the fact that the threat of war with Voldormort loomed over head didn't help matters much.

One morning Harry sat down at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. He started a letter to the one person that he knew would understand him, the only problem was that this person was dead. Harry dipped his quill in ink and started to write his letter to no one. It seemed like almost an hour later he sat back and picked up the piece of parchment, ripping it into tiny pieces. He got up and threw the pieces of paper out the window. This had become sort of a ritual for him. Every time he did the wind would seem to pick up and seemingly carry away the shredded pieces of the letter to the one person that no longer dwelled on this earth – the only one who truly understood him.

With that done he got up to start his day. He threw on his unofficial uniform that consisted of black sweat pants and a black T-shirt. He then took a thin piece of black ribbon and tied back his absurdly long hair (it was easier to tame this way). After that was accomplished he walked to his mirror and took stock of his appearance. He had grown about another two inches since the start of the summer. Harry now stood at six feet even and he was still skinny. He noticed that he had gotten paler but he blamed that on the lack of sun he had been getting lately. Never mind though, it didn't bother him. He then turned away from the mirror and walked out of his room.

Walking down the hall to the closet he pulled out all of his school stuff. He knew the rules that were laid down for him when he returned. He was not to touch any of the things that connected him to his own people and the world that he truly belonged in. For Harry had reached a point in his life in which he ceased to care what was for his own good or what other people thought was for his own good. The part of him that cared died when he lost his godfather.

It had been Harry's fifth year when his godfather fell behind that veil at the department of mysteries. That resided in the department of ministries. It was then that Harry started to change into the person that he was now. It started out with small things like withdrawing from his closest friends Ron and Herminie. Also, much to the delight of his teachers, he started to put forth more effort in his studies. The biggest changes came when he went out and bought massive amounts of black clothing and pulled himself off of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He knew that his friends were worried about him but he just couldn't bring himself to explain to them what was going on inside of his head.

Harry had a funny way of looking at things but with all that had happened to him you couldn't really blame him. To Harry it seemed like everyone he ever cared for got hurt or killed because of him. He couldn't allow this to happen to anyone else. His last choice was to cut off contact with everyone that he cared for – he continued his journey without any aid. He no longer had any friends nor did he talk to anyone unless it was a necessity.

He took his trunk back to his room and stashed it in his closet but the one thing that Harry kept on him at all times was his wand. Harry knew that as a wizard that was the right thing to do as well a very wise thing; even if he lived in a muggle town. Ever since Voldomort came back he had never felt safe and knew deep down inside that no one was safe anywhere. At all times he needed to be prepared for anything and everything that could happen to him. Harry had reached the age that he could use magic outside of school with out getting into trouble and for him that was a very good thing indeed.

Harry spent most of his summer indoors - he just could not bring himself to go outside. Of course the "family" that he lived with could care less about this. They just used him for free slave labour. His aunt, uncle and cousin relied on him to do things for them. He cleaned, cooked and took care of things around the house. After he would retreat to his room where he would do a few hours of school work then go to bed. Harry would then get up and start the day over again. His life was pointless to him; there was no purpose for him.

Somewhere deep inside he knew that he was not being fair to his friends. He had not answered a single letter from them. Harry would not allow let himself be happy because he knew the minute that he did, things would happen that would steal that moment of happiness from him.

This day was no different. He left his room and proceeded to go downstairs. He knew that his "family" would be up soon and would want breakfast. So he went to the kitchen and started to cook a meal of bacon, eggs and toast for them. The next thing he did was put on a pot of coffee for them. After he was sure that everything was in place for his "family" that was when he sat down and had a little something of his own. A glass of orange juice and a fruit and grain bar.

Sadly Harry had grown painfully thin. He sometimes had to force himself to eat. It had even gotten so bad that if the war did not kill him then surly his depression would. After he finished his meagre meal he waited for his aunt, uncle and cousin to come down. He didn't have to wait long. When they came down they did not seem to notice him and just walked right past him. This did not bother him for they did this often. They didn't care about him and only seemed to acknowledge his presence if something wasn't to their liking. He felt used and useless.

This got Harry wondering that if one day he decided to disappear would they not notice him gone? He settled on one answer "yes" because they would have to do their own work for a change.

Without so much as a "good morning Harry" or a "Thank you for breakfast Harry" he went back to his room to continued to do his schoolwork. The day passed fairly quickly as it always did for Harry it seemed.

The rest of the summer went by in much of the same manner for Harry, the only thing ahead of him now was all that Harry would see, be through and would have to face. He ceased to be Harry Potter 'the-boy- who-lived'. He became Harry Potter - The Dark Child.

The End