Sweet Resolve

The first few weeks of summer set the stones rolling down, creating silent boulders of chaos throughout the rest of summer. These were tense and tumultuous days. Now that the deficient Minister of Magic acknowledged the Dark Lord, the whole of the wizarding world seemed to be in a whirlwind of disarray.

Though there was not much outward activity on the part of the Death Eaters, emotions were set at their highest and most tense levels. It seemed only a matter of time before anxiety became a fog, and fear launched people's hearts into the greatest of altitudes, restricting all breathing and coherent thought. Families were falling apart at the seams of their stitched roots. There were the wizards of the light, but sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, anyone could be a chaser of the dark. So silent feuds erupted; the vaults of Gringotts were depleting in wealth as witch and wizard tried to keep money away from a warring family member. More likely, however, was that the funds were disappearing as fast as the wizards themselves were. People were fleeing- to America, to China, to Canada. Anywhere that the Dark Lord was not.

Just as those who wanted no part of anything were leaving the country, so were there many who were in search not of escape but of power, aid, and resources. No stone would go untouched by those in desperate need to help the Light. Or more specifically, the Order of the Phoenix- an elite group of witches and wizards who were trained and skilled in various aspects of magic, geared towards the ultimate elimination of the most feared and evil Wizard of present history.

Dumbledore- Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Wizardry and Witchcraft- and the most revered Wizard to date, had arranged for many of his most beloved and most targeted allies to have protection. Many students of Hogwarts had mixed background- that of magic and of Muggle (or non-magic) decent. He asked for wizarding families to take those who sought safety into their humble homes. One such arrangement was that of Hermione Granger and her dentistry- practicing parents. They were to reside with the Weasleys, one of the oldest Pureblood Wizarding families who supported Dumbledore's cause to no end.

Hermione was best friends with the youngest son of the family, Ron. Amid all their research on various protection spells, and preparations for school, both found exactly how to get under each other's skin. One of the few things they did agree on all the time was their mutual love, respect and longing for the company of Harry Potter.

The Boy Who Lived. Saviour of the Wizarding World by accident. The sole being everyone turned to in regards to the Dark Lord. Best friend of Hermione and Ron. Recently turned 16-yr-old who had to spend his birthday alone in his room in the house of Muggle relatives who would no sooner throw him in the waste bin outside than acknowledge he had grown into a fine young man.

And currently he was the boy no one ever heard from. The boy brooding on his bed, waiting for time to pass. The boy who had similar dreams every night, all culminating with him facing an archway draped with abysmal black cloth, desperately trying to reach in but his body wont let him go any further. He was the boy who woke up from every nightmare, unable to let slip from his mouth what he let slip from his life- the closest thing he had to a father, a family- Sirius Black, his lost godfather.

Harry, who once had been a simple little boy longing for a friend, a family, a life- had slowly emerged from his cocoon. No longer was he the straggly little boy with innocence radiating from his eyes and naiveté written in his every action. Now, the 16 years old was taller, well toned from years of Quidditch training, jogging, and muscle training he did in his room. His emerald green eyes, still semi shrouded by simple glasses, seemed darker now, like an emerald cove, innocence having drowned in its pools long ago. His face was set with a resolute hardness, but at second glance one could see his brows were not furrowed in anger, but rather in determination and there still remained a softness in his features, though he was loathe to admit it anymore. It seemed the only attribute that had not changed over time at all was his crazy untamed hair- that seemed to speak of his soul. Forever untamed. Forever unchanging. Forever set in its recklessness. But that was why he had bought hair styling gel- in hopes that even that could follow in the steps he was taking now to face his destiny. The steps it took him much of the summer to take.

All summer Harry had resigned himself to his bedroom.

First, it had been due to confusion and depression. The painful things he had learned right before leaving Hogwarts at the end of his 5^th year were slowly mulling in his mind- like a cauldron of ingredients, with the future of the potion not determined. He was chosen by Voldemort, he was marked. And for no good reason it felt. By pure dumb unfortunate luck he was the baby Voldemort felt was his vital most ultimate threat! So the bastard tired to kill him, and he basically did. Because Harry was left with no parents, no loving relative, no idea of who he was until Hagrid appeared that fateful day. A part of him would be dead forever, because even now, he had no godfather, he had no siblings, he had no real past. All he had were the events of his life with Voldemort. Fucking Voldemort. And now... and now... Harry learned that the prophesy claimed he would either kill or be killed by the Inhuman Slithering Wizard. Die at the hands of the brutal piece of crap, or vice versa. And both choices were equally nauseating. He was just a boy... albeit a young man now, but still- nothing in life could have prepared him for this.

But then the weeks of depression subsided, and he fell into an understanding. Not really understanding but acknowledgement. Voldemort had chosen him. There was another wizarding baby he could have chosen. Another one born in the same time frame... But Harry was thankful that Neville wasn't the one to bear this burden, and for many reasons. Though Harry never got to experience his parents, Neville's lifelong experience was arduous tortuous and grim- to see your parents in their most debilitated state, driven mad at the hands of those so close to Voldemort. And well, Neville could exude bravery when necessary. In fact he was the last one standing with Harry during the whole fiasco at the Ministry last year- but Harry knew that his harsh upbringing and ability to confront the perils of life were better suited to face the dark lord than Neville's bumbling courage. And never, never ever would Harry want any of his friends to have to face such an ultimatum- to have their fate sealed, to possibly die by Voldemort's cursed wand.

So eventually... weeks of acknowledgement led to resolve. The resolve that was in his heart now. Harry knew what he had to do, he knew he could no longer wallow in sadness over the loss of his beloved godfather, he could no longer be angry at Dumbledore for not informing him of his fate earlier, he could no longer be frustrated that he was the Freaking Chosen One-

No. So he kept to himself, brooding and concentrating on what his approach would be. He could let no one know. Not this time. Because Harry had a destiny to face. And face it he would. On his own terms.

That was when the new dream invaded his subconscious.