Chapter 1: The Letter from the Past

10:36 PM, Thursday

When Harry arrived home after his fourth year from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he didn't know what to expect—and to tell the truth he was only feeling one of two emotions as of late. The first was easy to identify: Guilt. Within him, it seemed to flow like a river. After he first arrived into his room, collapsing on his bed, he had no idea how many days that it had taken for the tears to stop, but they finally did.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you got to see a classmate murdered in front of your eyes, as well as see Voldemort rise again. Needless to say, the nightmares were something that seemed to be a very common occurrence in his nocturnal slumber.

The nightmares were not just about the events that had taken place after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Not that it would have been easy for the Boy-Who-Lived to handle those, mind you. But it was also the other dreams—or nightmares—that had been plaguing him. It was the nightmares that he thought he was over, or so he thought.

It was what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Moreover, the nightmares kept replaying what would have happened if he had been any slower. It was the nightmares telling him what would have happened if he had not lucked out and had Fawkes—Dumbledore's Phoenix—show up and literally save his and Ginny's arse.

Most of the time, when he woke up with a scream dying on his lips, he tried his absolute best to try to push the horrible thoughts at bay. However, it was coming more and more difficult each time—especially since he had no friends, or actually, anyone around that would be willing to hear him out and try to give him advise. The Dursleys sure as hell wouldn't be any help. As far as they were concerned, Harry was the lowest scum that walked the earth. They would much rather pamper their 'Dear Dudley'.

As long as they let him alone, Harry didn't really give a damn.

It took almost nine days for Harry to come out of his stupor. While he was in this state, it seemed that he only ate mechanically the little food the Dursleys gave him. He tried to tell himself that everything was fine, but that just didn't seem to cut it.

Harry couldn't lie to himself—he was miserable. Moreover, with the return of Voldemort, he knew things would just get worse before they got better. To make matters worse, he was positive with the amount of knowledge and power he had, he wouldn't stand a chance again with his mortal enemy. He could tell himself the truth—it was sheer luck that he was alive after as many life and death experiences he went through.

Bloody Hell, I wish Hermione was here. She always knows what to say. And if I'm being too much of a prat, she always knows just how to put me in my place, Harry thought with a slight smile as he was lying on his small bed, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

Contrary to what most people thought, it was not the truth that he was oblivious as a rock. In fact, he actually started to realize that he was starting to think of Hermione in a whole new light—a light that shown more than friendship. He most certainly wouldn't mind having a romantic relationship with her.

He had no doubt in his mind that she was his best friend. He used to think that of Ron, but Ron showed what kind of friend he could be last year, when he completely accused him of being a liar about putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. Even though Harry forgave him, there were still lingering doubts.

In addition, who was it that completely believed him?

Hermione. Always Hermione.

The truth was, the reason that he acted so attracted to Cho Chang was because he knew that he didn't stand a chance with Hermione. That, and he really didn't want to ruin the perfect friendship they had.

On top of that, there was yet another object in the way of that kind of thinking. Ron. Ron would blow his top if he figured out that his best friend liked the girl that he fancied. Moreover, knowing Ron, that would most certainly end their friendship.

To Harry, Ron might be a git, but he was still a valued friend.

Harry rubbed his face with his hands. Why the hell is my life so blasted complicated??? Of course no answer came.

Like always, Harry's thoughts seemed to jump from one subject to another fairly quickly these days—and the thought that came into his head at that moment was something that felt sort of like getting sucker punched in the gut.

It was a simple and very disturbing thought all rolled into one. He knew for a fact that since he had escape Voldemort, he would take it personally. After all, Harry thought that it would be extremely embarrassing for a Big Bad Dark Lord to let nothing but a kid escape several times. But Harry's main thought was...

Where would that leave his friends. If they stuck by him, they'd be in danger. That had to be Harry's worse fear as of yet. To his shame though, he knew in his heart that he could never push them away—that, and they would never allow it.

If I had one wish, it would be this: I wish I had the skills to protect those that I love and care about, he thought.

How little did he know how prophetic that wish would become.

Tap!

Tap!

Harry groggily opened his eyes, and the first thing that he noticed was that he had forgotten to take his glasses off. The second thing he noticed was the tapping at the window. Oh, God, how he hated waking up early in the morning—and he could tell by the dawn light that it was pretty damn early. He was temped to go back to sleep.

But the tapping continued.

Finally, grumbling a bit along the way, Harry made his way to the window. What he saw surprised him greatly. It was not an Owl, but a genuine Hawk. Harry quickly opened the window and it swooped around once, before landing gracefully on his shoulder.

Harry stroked the beautiful hawk for a few moments to show his appreciation and then pointed the bird to Hedwig's cage to have a snack and a drink, after he retrieved his letter, which he did immediately. Harry was relieved that Hedwig didn't put up to much of a fuss.

Now what the hell could this be?

The crest on it immediately reminded him of the Ravenclaw house at Hogwarts. This of course sent his curiosity to an even higher place. All he could wonder was what he had to do with Ravenclaw.

I guess there is only one way to find out, he thought with amusement as he quickly opened the envelope. What he found was a very old looking piece of parchment that was still in fairly good shape. The odd thing was that he felt completely calm and relaxed when he touched it—not that he noticed.

Once he started reading, he could hardly believe what it said. It started:

Harry stared at the parchment in shock. It was in this shock that he opened his mouth and spoke, not really thinking clearly. In other words, his brain could not stop his mouth. "I accept and wish Hermione Granger to receive Powerful Wandless Magic, A Perfect Memory and all the impurities in her body to vanish."

At that exact moment, the enchanted parchment seemed to glow an eerie white. It didn't scare Harry too bad, but he had thought for sure that something much worse was going to happen. Huh. Maybe I got lucky.

In the next moment, his worse fear came true. A blinding flash of light that was so bright, it actually hurled him backwards, so that he landed on his bed, almost blind, since he didn't close his eyes in time.

However, that was the least of his problems. At the moment his mind was screaming that this was a trick by Tom Riddle, because the pain that was shooting through his body—from the top of his head, to the tips of his toes—reminded the teenager greatly of the Cruciatus Curse that was performed on him once before.

He didn't know it, but it lasted six minutes and thirty-three seconds.

Common knowledge would say that this would drive most people catatonic or insane. The thing that he didn't know was that the Crucio spell would no longer effect him, if used against him—hell, that and now Light Level magic wouldn't have any effect at all. Of course, there were a wide verity of spells that were Dark that would do him harm like normal. This was certainly an edge.

Of course, Harry didn't know this yet.

He also didn't know that Ravenclaw had a wicked since of humor, as she might have let a few harmless side effects slip her mind. But she was pretty sure he would like them when he awoke. Oh well, he'd thank her later.