Disclaimer * This fanfic is not J.K. Rowling's sixth Harry Potter book, nor does said work of fiction belong to me.  This is my extrapolation upon and interpretation of Rowling's title and i write this with the greatest amount of respect towards the original author without receiving any monetary gain.

A/N * This is not the fanfic i originally intended my six year fic to be.  I had theories about what would happen in book six forming in my head almost from the moment i started reading Order of the Phoenix, but i never got very far with the actual writing part before the Half-Blood Prince came out (in fact, i only finished rough drafts on three chapters).  While i do believe that Rowling is a Christian i never truly believed that she'd be taking the series in quite the same direction as this fanfic does, though most of the stuff i've added is what i expected to see more of in Half-Blood Prince (keeping in vein with the level of content in Order of the Phoenix).

I am aware that this fanfic may offend some people:  i am definitely bringing my faith and beliefs into it.  I'm also portraying the Harry Potter universe in the way that i see it and not necessarily entirely in the same way Rowling has.  I must confess in all honesty that i was a bit disappointed with Half-Blood Prince, something i never dreamed possible, and it took me several days to recover.  As a result this fanfic has thus become a response to what i've read, a way to soften the blow of some of things that happened in book six.  Please read this fanfic alongside with her masterpiece, noting my references to congruent events; hopefully this story will offer more hope than Rowling's latest work did as to Harry's future.
 
 
 

arry's summer with the Dursleys had not been fun.  At King's Cross he had loaded his trunk into the boot of the Dursleys' car easily enough--all the while trying not to smirk--and avoided any incident... until they were all loaded in the car.  Though Uncle Vernon railed at Harry the whole way "home" (the nerve of those freaks!) he managed to tune him out.  The trip from Hogwarts and reality of where Harry was now going to be stuck for an indeterminable amount of time--one that seemed so, at any rate--had left him exhausted.

    The summer hadn't been kind to the neatly trimmed but distinctly yellowed lawns on Privet Drive, but Harry didn't notice.  Dudley slammed the car door after they pulled into the driveway, but Harry didn't notice.  In fact, it wasn't until Uncle Vernon stuck his head out the door--five minutes later--for the boy to get inside and now that Harry realized he was at home at all.

    Harry moved to the boot of the car, fully expecting it to be open so he could retrieve his belongings.  He was wrong.  Harry was forced to use the knife Sirius had given him to open the latch, it's melted attachment blaring at him with all its implications.  He wrestled his trunk out of the car and got the boot to close but when he got to the door he found it locked, too.  Dudley was laughing at the window.  Harry ignored him and pulled out his wand.

    The door slammed against the wall as it opened:  Dudley squeaked and ran towards the kitchen but got knocked backwards by the force of Uncle Vernon exiting said room.  He was predictably enraged, but Harry was past caring at this point:  he just wanted to crawl into bed and shut out the world.  He wouldn't have even minded a trip to the Ministry right now--as long as he wouldn't have to stay here any longer--but he rather thought that the Ministry had enough to be getting on with without worrying about him losing his temper and forcing himself into his home.

    Uncle Vernon had even followed him upstairs and started banging on Harry's door, which he had somehow locked without realizing, but Harry did not hear.  A letter might have come from the Improper Use of Magic Office but Harry wasn't aware of it if it did.  He merely opened his window and Hedwig's cage before he collapsed onto his bed and knew no more.
 
 
 

* * * * * *
 
 
 
    The Dursleys hadn't bothered him after that first day:  in fact, they didn't speak to him at all.  If they noticed that Harry wasn't coming to meals, or using the loo, or leaving his room at all, they didn't mention it or inquire after his well being.  Everyone stayed out of his way as much as possible.  He would send a note with Hedwig to assure everyone that he was doing fine and the Dursleys were being better this summer, but the truth was that he wasn't fine.  Not in the slightest.

    Harry slept a lot.  When he didn't sleep he just stared at the ceiling trying to clear his mind of all emotion, of all memories of Sirius.  The irony of what had finally prompted him to take Snape's advice and pursue the skills that would help him master Occlumency irked Harry, but he had no desire for Voldemort to be in his head anymore, let alone memories of his godfather.  Harry never felt more than a few twinges from his scar; he presumed that Voldemort didn't want to be in his head right now any more than Harry wanted to be in it.

    A lot of owls were visiting Harry this summer, but he ignored them as a rule.  Truth be told, he was ignoring Hedwig, too, and leaving her to her own devices to procure food and drink.  Every once in a while there would get to be so many owls in the room that he would take all their letters and packages and shoo them out but he didn't give them much more notice than that.  He threw all of the post he received in his trash bin.

    This all continued unabated until one morning when a very annoyed Pigwidgeon and Hedwig awoke him by incessantly pecking his face.  He turned away from them and covered his head, but this only led to them pecking his hands.  Harry finally decided this was futile and woke up.

"What do you want!" he yelled at them, flipping over and throwing them off.  Hedwig landed on his desk and looked highly afronted.  Pig simply fluttered annoyingly out of reach.  Harry pulled his glasses on and suddenly realized that, though there was no strange owls present, Hedwig and Pig both carried correspondence.

    Harry reached out to Hedwig but she pecked him hard.  His hand started to bleed.  "I deserved that," he admitted, examining the injury.  He reached out to her again and she allowed him to remove the letter but immedietely flew to her perch, turning her back on him.  Pig hesitantly came over to deliver his own letter, then flew to Hedwig's bowl, hooting forlornly at its empty state.  Harry managed to dig some owl treats out of his trunk--which was a mess--and sat down at his desk to read the letters.

    The first (Hedwig's) had no return address on the envelope and the handwriting seemed unfamilliar to him.  The script seemed feminine, but simple, and the letters looked slightly crooked as if they had been written in a hurry.  On the back of the envelope was a red wax seal with the letters GW.  He opened the envelope, trusting Hedwig's judgement on who she considered to be a safe sender, and unfolded the simple parchment with metallic red and gold flourishes etched in the corners.  His eyes widened when he saw who the letter was from.

    Ginny had never written a letter to him before.  He had never really considered her to be a friend and he doubted that she had ever really thought of him as one, either.  Ginny had always seemed to just be Ron's little sister.  Well, she had started to be a bit more the year before, but he still didn't know Ginny very well at all.  He didn't even know what Ginny was short for.  He didn't have the slightest idea what Ginny would write him for or about.  However, he would soon find out.

Drat you, Harry,
I don't know what on earth is going on in that head of yours, but if it weren't for Dad i would already be in Surrey hexing you to the moon!  Whatever possessed you to write Mum assuring her that you were fine when you obviously cannot even string together a sentence?  She is perfectly aware that Ron and i have received several letters from D.A. members wondering why you haven't responded to their post.  If all is fine why aren't you really in contact with any of the myriad of individuals who are trying to get through to you?  Especially considering the fact that you haven't responded to Mum's letters and packages!  Mum is worried sick about you and redoubling her petitions to Dumbledore for you to leave the Muggles.  If i do not receive a proper response from you in forty-eight hours then Ron and i will come knock down that door ourselves and drag you out by the scruff of your neck!

You have been warned!
Ginny

Harry blinked dumbfoundedly:  where did Ginny get off talking to him like that?  And the gall of it all, using Hedwig as if she were her own owl!  He crumpled the letter up and threw it towards the trash bin, only to wonder why he hadn't heard the satisfying sound of paper hitting metal at high velocity.  His mouth fell open.

    As Aunt Petunia was not taking his trash out there was quite a pile of things on the floor surrounding his bin.  Evidently people had been writing him a great deal, more than he had realized.  A whole score of owls must have swept into the room while he was asleep and simply added their packages to the pile he had already created.  Ginny hadn't been kidding about members of the D.A. trying to get in touch with him, apparently.

    Harry retrieved Ginny's letter and smoothed it out, checking for a date.  As she had apparently written it in great haste, there wasn't one.  He opened Ron's and nearly fell over.  He had supposed that his summer had been but a day or two at most, but the date on Ron's letter indicated that it had been closer to two weeks.  Harry read on:

Hey mate,
Mum's a bit offended that you haven't thanked her for the package she sent.  You know it's not easy for her to fit in the time to cook for you on top of all the work she's been doing for the Order.  Ginny's in a right state, you might want to steer clear of any letter she sends because it might explode or worse.  If we don't here from you soon Bill says that he and the twins will be retrieving you but for your sake he hopes you come around on your own.  No idea what he's talking about but hope to hear from you soon. Ron

    Harry suddenly realized that he was very hungry and more awake than he had been in a long time.  He quickly dove into the packages, trying to make sense of the different handwritings and scrawls.  There was more than one package.  Harry finally found the right one and, scattering the letters that were actually on his desk, ripped open the package.  As he dove into the cookies Hedwig and Pig started buzzing about his head, setting the envelopes and packages about him.  He didn't know how many cookies he had bolted down before he suddenly realized that their activity was making him quite dizzy and he was going to be sick.

    Harry lurched for the bathroom.  His bedroom door flew open before he could reach it.  He stumbled into the hall and barely made it to the lavatory before the cookies came up.

    Harry felt hollow inside, like part of him had been ripped out.  It wasn't that he had just gotten physically ill (though his stomach was protesting) as much as the fact that so many people obviously cared about him and he'd been doing his best to ignore them.  As he washed his hands in the sink he caught a glimpse of his reflection and was shocked.  His face looked so pale!  His eyes were sunken and looked nothing like the ones he remembered.  His reflection suddenly reminded him of the madness in Sirius' face when he had been on the news and posters having escaped from Azkaban.  His hair had grown down to his shoulders, his cheeks had a faint shadow of whiskers.  What had happened to his body?

    He could vaguely hear two doors shut simultaneously as he started to tear off his clothes, but he paid them no mind.  He found that his ribs were sticking out, as were his hip bones.  He hit his head on the shower curtain's pole when he climbed into the shower, then on the showerhead after he started the water.  He'd apparently grown.

    A few minutes later he was heading downstairs, clean and looking for some food.  His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail (using twine from Mrs. W's package) so as not to offend his relatives, though the fact that his hair was long enough to necessitate such a fashion change was probably offensive enough.  His aunt gasped when he burst into the kitchen, knocking over her cup of tea.

    "Sorry," he apologized.  The tea and cup set itself to rights across the room as he turned his back on her, but he didn't notice.  He pulled open the door to the refrigerator and started pulling out fixings for a sandwich.  He grabbed the orange juice carton and started drinking straight out of it--in sips at first so as not to get sick--then went to work on a sandwich with cold chicken.

    "Well there's a fine picture for you," Petunia huffed.  "We don't so much as see you for a week--not that I'm complaining, mind you, and then you go and trash my kitchen!"  Harry didn't even look up from his creation:

    "I'll clean it up," he promised her.

    "Clean it up, will you? Hm?"  She crossed her arms:  "Don't you mean you whisk it up with one of your spells?"

    "You know I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school," Harry started piling unused items back into the fridge.

    "Could have fooled me," Petunia railed.  Harry wiped everything down and swept the floor quickly before grabbing his plate and the carton of juice.  "Vernon's not going to like what he sees..." the swinging door cut his aunt off.  Harry bound up the stairs three at a time and came to a halt outside his room.  He transferred the carton under his arm and tried the knob.  The door was locked.  He didn't remember closing it, and knew there wasn't a lock on the inside (Uncle Vernon wouldn't allow it).  His wand was in the room.  He tried the knob again:  still locked.

    Harry put his food down and tried to force the door open.  No luck.  What on earth was wrong with the door?  He took a few steps back and charged it, and suddenly it flew open on its own.  Harry nearly fell flat on his face.  "You'd better stop messing around up there!" his aunt yelled.  "Vernon will be home soon and he won't be happy to hear you thumping around!"

    "Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry called.  He picked up his lunch and slipped into his room.