A Wavering Light

Chapter One

Sitting in the small kitchen of the Burrow, Harry Potter was reminded of a few summer vacations as a teenager, during his years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He could recall playing quidditch out back, pulling yard gnomes, and being fussed over by Molly Weasley. He felt suffocated. Harry desperately wanted to get out of that house, away from the memories. He swirled his firewhiskey in the glass in his calloused hands and peered out the kitchen window as his two best friends talked.

"Hermione, I don't think I'll ever understand you." Ron Weasley ran a slender hand through his already disheveled red hair. "Ever since Moody said you could back in fourth year, you've been working toward this. Now you want out?"

Leaning against the counter, Hermione Granger tried to explain. "Look, I thought I wanted to be an Auror, I really did, but I just can't see myself going out and trying to vanquish evil anymore. I'd rather be doing research; you know that." She gave a sideways glance at Harry, knowing he wasn't paying attention. She muttered, "I guess I always assumed this was something Harry would be doing."

At the mention of his name, Harry's gaze was broken. He turned his head and looked at his two friends, as if he just realized they were in the room. Harry hadn't heard a word of their conversation.

"Hmm?" he murmured into his mug, "Did you say something?"

Hermione cast a worried look at Ron, who only shook his head in amusement. "Harry, are you-"

"I'm fine," was her answer. "don't ask me again."

At this, Ron stood and rounded on his friend. "Hey, now. Don't be that way. She's just worried about you. We both are."

Harry drained his mug, and slid it across the table to where Ron was sitting. "You have no reason to. I'm fine. So will the both of you just leave me the hell alone?"

Ron's face started to redden. It clashed dangerously with his hair. He leaned in on Harry, trapping him in his chair. "No reason to? Are you out of your mind? You don't sleep, you don't eat, and you sure as hell don't let anyone talk to you. You've shut yourself out from everyone who cares about you. I can't even remember how long it's been since you last talked to Dumbledore."

At the mention of his former headmaster's name, Harry pushed Ron away and stood up. He paced the room twice before grabbing his cloak. "I'm getting the hell out of here."

Ron scoffed, "Yeah, and where are you going to go? To see Sirius?" Harry froze in his tracks, back facing his friends.

Hermione wrung her hands and mumbled cautiously to Ron. "Ron...please don't."

After Sirius Black's death in their fifth year, Harry had been tormented with grief. His only hope at a true family vanished when he was only fifteen. Harry had blamed himself. Even with Dumbledore empty reassurances, he still felt responsible for his godfather's death. This terrible loss had made Harry Potter bitter and hollow for nearly ten years. He had lost his faith, even in magic.

Without turning around, Harry replied, "Fuck you Weasley."

"Harry!" Hermione abandoned her spot on the counter and started towards Harry, but Ron just held her back.

"No, no Hermione. Don't try to comfort him. He's lost his mind. I mean listen to him! Starting to sound like that git Malfoy." Ron folded his arms and glared at his raven-haired friend.

Donning his cloak, Harry turned around and stammered, "Don't you dare compare me to him."

"Why not?" Ron shrugged, "You're acting just like him. You might as well become a Death Eater. You can't think for a second that he isn't one."

Hermione just hugged herself, glancing between Ron and Harry, searching their faces, seeing if either would give up this fight. She knew in her heart that neither would.

"I don't give a shit about Malfoy, Death Eaters, or anything they do." Suddenly, Harry's face began to soften. Hermione noticed how tired he looked. The spark in his once vibrant green eyes was slowly diminishing. She didn't think she could bear it if she looked at him one day to find the spark completely gone forever.

"I just don't care." With that, Harry rushed out of the Burrow and slammed the door, leaving his two friends completely hopeless to help him.

Harry leaned against the Burrow door and sighed. He hated fighting with Ron, but he was too exhausted to think about it. At least he had gotten out of the house. After a quick glance around, Harry Disapparated.

Looking through a crystal orb, a pair of snake-like eyes saw the whole fight in the Burrow, and their owner smiled. These were the eyes of the Dark Lord Voldemort.