Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A/N: I will randomly and w/out warning switch from 3rd to 1st person and back a lot. Whenever it says "I" it's first. If it says "Harry" or "he" in reference to Harry, that means it's third. Please don't mind.
Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.

"Where are we?" he said.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.

*Oh, no,* thought Harry. *No, no, not this again.*

They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.

"Did anyone tell *you* the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

Abrubtly the scene changed. He was in a small living room, with some comfortable-looking armchairs, a roaring fire, and a wooden floor. There was a family there, a mother, father, little girl, and a baby.

Suddenly the door burst open, and in came three figures with the hoods of their cloaks hiding their faces.

The woman screamed. The man lept up, but knew it was too late. A high, evil laugh rang out through the room. *"Avada Kedarva!"* shrieked the high voice that Harry immediately recognized.

The man fell to the floor. The Death Eaters on either side of Voldemort killed the children. Voldemort laughed again, and murdered their mother.

Harry's scar was burning on his forehead. He felt his head was going to split open at any moment. He let out a scream, and then he woke up.

Harry was gasping for breath, and pressed his hand over his scar. He was completely drenched in sweat.

He heard Uncle Vernon's roar of fury and then he stormed into Harry's room, a roll of duct tape in his hand.

"That's it!" he roared. He pinned the soaking Harry down onto the bed with one hand, and with the other and the aid of his teeth, tore off a piece of duct tape.

"I will not have you disturbing my sleep any more!" shouted Uncle Vernon, and taped shut Harry's mouth to stop him from screaming in his sleep. It had been continuing for the last two weeks, ever since Harry had come home for the summer from school. Vernon knew something terrible must have happened for Harry to be reacting like this, but was too angry at him for having the nerve to disturb his sleep night after night to care. Not that he would have cared anyway. It was nothing less than he deserved for being what he was, for associating him with others of his kind.

Uncle Vernon left, and Harry looked at the clock. 2:33. He gently pulled the tape off his mouth and sat up. He wasn't going to sleep anymore. Every night since he'd come back from Hogwarts, he'd woken up screaming, and didn't dare go back to sleep after that.

His scar still burned. Although it was very painful, Harry was getting used to it by now.

Who was that family Voldemort had just killed? Harry wished and wished that his dreams weren't real, but knew deep in his heart that they were true. *Why* did he kill them? What did they do?

At least he didn't torture them this time. He must have really wanted them dead.

Harry wished for a letter from Sirius, or that he could write to him, or anything. But at the start of the summer Sirius had sent him a letter saying that he was on a mission, and that he couldn't write to Harry often. Harry also couldn't use Hedwig to write to him, she was too noticable.

Hermione didn't have an owl. Sure, sometimes Ron would write to him, but he didn't really understand what was going on with Harry, didn't know what to do to help.

Harry sat looking around his room. There had to be *something* he could do to take his mind off things. But nothing seemed to interest him. He would have died for some dreamless sleep potion right about now. Come to think of it... it would be nice, to die, and not have to deal with Voldemort or the dreams or how I caused Cedric's death.

Hedwig tapped on the glass, a dead mouse in her beak. Harry let her in, and she ate the mouse in her cage before flying out again.

Harry sighed. Yes, it would be nice to end this all.

He lay down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. How nice that would be. I could finally get some rest. And I wouldn't have to deal with Voldemort...

Harry sat bolt upright. *No,* he thought, *I'm not going to sleep. I *can't* sleep.*

And so Harry sat, flipping through his books, determined not to sleep(though he was very exhausted, having had such little sleep the last two weeks) until 7:30, when Hedwig came back.

Harry opened the window for his owl.

"Hullo, Hedwig," Harry said softly. Hedwig held out her leg and Harry untied a letter.

Dear Harry,

Hello. Hedwig just stopped by and I thought I'd write you a letter. How are you doing? I'm fine over here, it's a shame they didn't give us more homework, really, I've already finished it all! Oh, well. I'd go to Diagon Alley to get next year's books, but they haven't sent the list yet. Oh, well, I'm just re-reading all my old ones. I might just start on some muggle books pretty soon, I know the school ones so well. They won't be nearly as interesting, but what can you do? Anyway, don't let the muggles get you down, Harry, it'll be all right. I'm going to Ron's later this summer, when Dumbledore says it's okay for you to go. I'll see you then.



*Of course Hermione'd want more homework,*Harry thought. Well, the letter did one thing, and it got Harry's mind off his own miserable life for about a minute.

He heard the Dursleys moving about their rooms and starting to go downstairs. Harry sighed and went down for breakfast, which was bound to be as miserable as his own existence(so he thought), as Dudley was still on his diet.