Chapter 1
The War was over.
Good had, once again, defeated Evil.
The Dark Lord was gone,dead, his group of followers scattered and filling the cells in Azkaban. The endless killings had ceased, and there were no more disappearances. Hogwarts was once again, a safe place (or "home" for Harry).
Families spent all summer celebrating with fireworks and laughter, closer together than ever before. Happiness and love filled the air of wizards and muggles alike. All, in the name of the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Vanquished The Dark Lord once and for all.
The Daily Prophet had published numerous articles praising Harry Potter, "Potter ends You Know Who's reign" "Terror ceases; Potter wins" "Potter Triumphant" "All Praise Potter" and "Goodbye He Who Must Not be Named".
Everywhere Harry went, someone would shake his hand, congratulate him and repeatedly utter words of thanks. "Mr Potter, how daring you are!" "Oh Harry Potter, we are forever grateful!" "Thank you Harry, dear!" "You saved us all Mr Potter!"
After all of this, Harry Potter was expected to feel happy, to laugh and joke with the others, to get on with life. But no. In fact, things had become worse for Harry.
Something had gone wrong in Harrys life this summer. Harry didn't feel like himself any more, he didn't feel happy. He felt more than ever, alone.
He had gone to the Burrow in the summer, like always. He had been greeted warmly by all the family, like always. But dampness hung over the air. The family was greatly affected by Fred's death, especially George, who spent the majority of time in his room, or wandering around the house like he was made of wax, all traces of his jolly self gone. Mrs and Me Weasley were broken; after all, they had just lost a son.
Then there was the absence of the daily visits from Lupin and Tonks. Teddy was being cared for by Mrs Weasley, but he was a constant reminder to Harry of the deaths of his two friends.
Ginny had also become sad and gloomy, and she and Harry spoke less than they did before. Sometimes, Harry would take her out for walks across the countryside, where sometimes she would break down and cry. However, she didn't share her feelings with Harry, and this is what made Harry angry and sad; she didn't love him enough to let him comfort her. But then again, he didn't tell her how he felt.
Ron and Hermione, half the time were nauseous to watch, the rest of the time they either looked at Harry strangely, or were far too happy. This made Harry angry. They were his 'best friends', and yet they didn't see how he was tearing up inside, no, they were too busy snogging each others faces off, or leaving halfway through the day without telling Harry anything, then returning at night.
But all of this together, the sadness of losing friends, the loneliness at losing Ginny and the anger at losing Hermione and Ron, weren't enough to all have caused Harry's anguish.
The night Voldemort had killed Harry, and Harry had killed Voldemort, that night something snapped inside of Harry. He didn't miss the Parseltongue, not the link to Voldemorts mind, nor the other links between him and Voldemort.
Harry's sense of purpose had gone, his point of living had disappeared. He has nothing to live for, no goal, no purpose. He had nobody who understood, everyone was happy in one way or another. Harry felt so alone.
Perhaps it would have been better if Voldemort had killed me, Harry sometimes thought darkly to himself, because life really isn't suiting me.
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Draco Malfoy's summer was very different. He had no peaceful but depressing walks in the countryside with Ginny Weasley, no painful deaths within his family. But his summer wasn't great either.
