Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter 1: The Awful Summer

Harry Potter was sitting dumbfounded in a field of long grass, feeling the strong wind whip his hair into an even messier state. He felt lost; he had no idea where he was or why he was there. Then suddenly he began to bleed. His arms and legs were covered with the red liquid... It was everywhere, yet he felt no pain... He felt nothing, not panic or fear. He sat there in pool of his own blood, content. Then an earth-shattering scream sliced through the calm aura. The wind stopped and was replaced by a violently shining green light and Harry felt his body give a mighty jolt.

Harry awoke on the ground of his bedroom floor, his scar burning as he tried to get up. He remembered the dream and shook his head in wonder; he had been having the same dream for two weeks now, however, this was the first time he had actually fallen off his own bed. Normally he woke crying and in a cold sweat, but this time was different.

He been wondering a lot about this mysterious dream and had owled Dumbledore once and mentioned it. The Headmaster had immediately worried that Voldemort was still trying to penetrate Harry's mind and instructed him to practice the Occulemency that Snape had taught him the previous year. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, the dream continued.

Aware that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, he grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and slipped them over the bridge of his nose, and looked at the clock. It was 4:00 AM on Sunday morning. As he began thinking back it was hard to believe that he had arrived at Privet Drive only three weeks early. It had seemed like so much longer. The days passed through painfully; it was a living hell. Not a day went by when he didn't blame himself for Sirius's death ...or when he didn't think about the prophesy he had to fulfill. 'I am already a murderer,' he thought silently as he sat pondering on the side of his bed, 'I might as well continue with it by killing Voldemort... But why me? Why can't I just be normal, like Ron or Neville or... just... someone else?'

He fell back onto his bed and let the few tears come. He felt utterly stupid crying. Here he was going on 16 years old and he was crying - but he felt there was really no other way to truly mourn Sirius's death, especially when it had been Harry's fault. He also felt pitiful; he no longer wanted to be him, no longer wanted the responsibility of withholding the future of magic... But even more, what if he failed to save magic from the Dark Lord? What if he was the victim, the one who died, and left the rest of world under Voldemort's rule?

He shuddered at the very thought of it. Sick off thinking, he got up off of his bed. He needed an escape from his own mind for a while. He bent down, picked up the loose floorboard and fished around for his ink, quill, and a spare piece of parchment. He figured he might as well do homework as long as he was up. The Dursleys, who had been absolutely terrified by the recent threat of Mad Eye Moody, stayed clear of Harry and had allowed him use of his school books, wand, along with other miscellaneous items. Harry would've normally been thrilled, but at times like this it was hard to concentrate on anything but the past events of last year. He also had not been able to send any mail to Hermione or Ron since they were both already at the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix.

He soon retrieved the items and went to his pitiful excuse for a desk and set up his history of magic lists of essays and the parchment. Professor Binns had required all of his students to write eight essays. All of the essays were to be completed with only the of use one's personal knowledge. The list itself had about eighty different enchantments to ensure that the student did not cheat or somehow get answers from a different source. Depending on how you answered the eight essays, you were enrolled in a different level of 6th year History of Magic. Each class was required to complete the same curriculum, but they each went at different speeds. It was a new system introduced by Binns who felt some students were not getting proper educations due to the fact that others were dragging them down. Harry thought it unnecessary and detested the essays. Each was full of complicated wording and boring topics that captured no interest in anyone...with the probable exception of Hermione.

He had finished problem number one and two, already earlier on in the holidays, so he started number three and was slightly surprised as he saw the topic: 'A long lasting controversy throughout the history of our great wizarding world is that of the question of blood. In the early 1700s, Purebloods, or families that have had no interchange with non-magical blood throughout the entire family tree, were held to be slightly above the other existing non-pure blood magical families. What event in 1654 first started the differences in social rank due to purity in blood? Also include where half-bloods stood on the debate as well and the event's occurrences in immense detail.'

It was the first time in a while that he had heard the term "half-blood". Professor Binns must have guessed most students would have simply forgotten to include the half-bloods' position, so he merely included a reminder. Harry could easily name many pureblood families, and many muggle born families. However, he only knew a few people who were half-blood. Why was this? Were half-blood's less open about their originations? Harry's curiosity had flared, and after he answered the essay question, he set to find out just why the half-bloods were always left out of the picture.

But to everyone's surprise there was a half-blood, an important piece to the puzzle, whom everyone, including Harry, had over looked. He was sleeping soundly in the muggle world, not knowing his destiny or Harry's. The half blood boy was dreaming... he was sitting dumbfounded in a field of long grass, feeling the strong wind whip his hair...