Harry sat silently in the room, staring down at the picture in his hands. He sighed and slid the picture underneath his pillow and lied down, wincing slightly as he eased back on the bed. His uncle had welcomed him home with a rather harsh manner. But after living in number 4 privet drive for most of his life, Harry was used to it. He stared at the ceiling, watching the evening sunlight turn dark. It seemed like the whole world had stopped, as if suspended in a time spell. Nothing changed, nothing expect the fact that he had to come to terms that he wouldn’t see him any longer. He jumped, startled as Hedwig flew into the room. Instead of flying into her cage, she flew directly to him, landing on his bed and nipping one of his fingers. Harry smiled sadly as he reached over and stroked her head. She hooted to him as she moved closer to his face, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. He sat up nudging her into his lap and ruffled her fathers, scratching deeply, knowing that it felt good to her. He smiled down at her, shaking his head.

“Sometimes, I wish it was just this simple…” he whispered to her, his voice gentle as his stroking. She hooted at him again and nuzzled her head into his chest. He sat and just stroked her, slowly calming down and relaxing. It was only for the summer; he would go back to Hogwarts, where he would be with his friends and grieve silently without worrying if Vernon was going to come home and play his new favorite game: beat the bloody brains out of Harry Potter.

A car door slammed outside. A few seconds of silence, and then came the sound of something crashing. Harry felt his heartbeat start to race. He stood Hedwig on his arm and quickly walked her, still nuzzling him.

“You need to go for a little bit, Hedwig, I think Uncle Vernon is home, and I don’t want him hurting you.” Harry told the owl. Hedwig hooted once last time, nipped Harry’s hand, and took off in flight. Harry leaned against the window, resting his forehead against it as he watched the bird soar off into the sunset, free and unrestrained. Then Harry heard the stairs groan as if they were being tortured.

“Boy!” a voice bellowed, deep and threatening.

Harry took a bracing breath and straightened, facing the door waiting for his uncle to come in. He knew both his aunt and his cousin would merely just turn over and go back to sleep. He curled his hands into fists as his uncle roared again. His bedroom door slammed open, and his uncle’s large frame filled the doorway, his cheeks red.

Drunk, Harry thought a chill going down his back, his uncle was completely drunk. Though Uncle Vernon was not pleasant when sober, drunkenness brought out a whole other level of cruelty. He would not stop after roughing Harry up a bit – he might not stop after five minutes, or ten minutes, or even fifteen.

Uncle Vernon stepped into the room his fat hands in fists.

“There you are, boy, you ungrateful little brat!” his uncle shouted at him as he continued to lumber towards Harry. Harry started to take a step back before he remembered that he stood next to the open window.

“Please, Uncle Vernon…” Harry began trying to think of anything to get his uncle to calm down. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of these beatings, and he knew it. He licked his lips and turned his head to see that his wand lay on his bed. If he was able to get it, if he could just reach for it and wrap his hand around it, then he could stand a chance. Just a few feet between him and his wand –

Harry cried out as something hard slammed into the side of his head. It was so quick, so violent that he fell down to the ground before he realized he had been hit. Sprawling on the shabby carpet, he stared up dizzily as the world spun.

“Don’t call me Uncle, boy, you don’t have the right! You don’t even have the right to be alive right now! You come back here after being at that – that school with all those freaks. You come back and mess with our minds, you and your freaky looks and hair and scar. But this is my house!” Uncle Vernon kicked him angrily, his eyes blazing. “This is my house, you wretched little freak. And I won’t let anyone else die for you. That’s right – you aren’t going to kill anyone else.”

Harry looked at his uncle in shock and didn’t even have a chance to say a word before his Uncle kicked him roughly again, this time in the stomach. Harry coughed as the wind was knocked from him, a desperation for air. He saw his wand on the bed as his uncle grabbed his head by his hair, forcing him painfully to his feet. The man smiled as he pulled Harry’s hair harder and then punched his nephew in the face. Stars exploded into Harry’s eyes, and he fell to the floor again. His chest so tight he struggle for breath, Harry blinked away tears of pain and started to push himself upright

Then his uncle stepped on his left knee, putting his entire weight on it.

Harry screamed in pain, his entire world flooded with agony. There was a sickening crack and pop from his knee.

“Accio wand!” Harry croaked from a very raw throat. He did not expect anything to happen, but his wand flew up and soared over to his waiting hand.

Uncle Vernon quickly backed away, but Harry managed to aim his wand at his uncle.

“One more move, and I am going to show just what I am capable of doing,” Harry said coldly. His knee throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and he knew that he was in shock, because it didn’t hurt enough. Vernon paled and backed away from Harry.

“You can’t do magic out of school, boy,” Vernon snarled, though he had begun to sweat. Still aiming his wand with one hand, Harry grabbed the window and pulled himself up to his feet. The world spun for a minute before it righted itself.

“At this point, Uncle Vernon,” Harry spat from between pain-clenched teeth, “I don’t give a flying Snitch for that rule. Now, you are going to go to your room and shut the door, and you are not going to come out until morning or you’ll find out just what it feels like to be under the Cruciatus Curse!” Harry knew very well that his uncle had no idea what he was talking about, but he figured his uncle would get the point. Vernon made a strangled sound and quickly rushed out of the room his own bedroom door slamming shut. Harry blinked for a minute then couldn’t help himself; he burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. One threat and his uncle was terrified of him. But once Harry started laughing, he wanted never to stop.

He finally managed to calm down and glanced about the room. Then he flicked his wand, calling out his trunk and slowly he began to pack. He was not spending one more night in this hell. Hedwig would be able to find him, wherever he went.

Once he was completely packed, Harry tested his leg. It nearly had him doubling over in pain, but he swallowed and walked slowly grabbing his trunk’s handle and limped to the stairs. He slowly, painfully, excruciatingly made his way down them, dragging his trunk behind him. At the front door, he spelled it open, making certain it slammed shut behind him. His body was already protesting how much he was moving around.

He raised his wand and was glad that this time as a large bus appeared out of thin air practically he didn’t fall over. The door opened, and Harry sent a smile at the young man who came down the steps ready to recite the speech.

“Harry Potter isn’t it?” the man asked, Harry nodded and the man smirked.

“Well get on in, I’ll grab your bag, Hey Ernie we got us Harry Potter again!” He said as he dragged Harry’s bag up.

Harry looked at the stairs, only four, but it might as well be a hundred with the way his knee was throbbing. Keeping a death grip on the railing, he pulled himself up them, clenching his teeth so tight he though he might break his jawbone.

Once he made it inside, he began trembling from the effort of holding it all together. He sat down on the closest bed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to lie down, not without pain and effort, so he sat as the bus took off.

“So where is it that you are going to this time, Mr. Potter?” the man asked, oblivious yto Harry’s agony.

“Leaky Cauldron.” Harry said hoarsely. He was still debating if he wanted to stay there, but at least it was a start.

Within moments, the bus was in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly, Harry handed Stan the money and limped down the steps of the bus. Stan sat Harry’s trunk beside him, tipped his hat, and then walked back to the bus. Harry took another deep breath and turned his head to look at the Leaky Cauldron. He shifted to grab his trunk only to find himself sitting on the ground blinking; his knee, it seemed, was not going to corporate any longer. On the side of a dark street, Harry sat on the cold concrete, trying to figure out exactly what he should do now. He could yell for help, but with his luck, he would attract every Death Eater from twenty miles.

He heard footsteps, and he wondered for a second if he had been moaning out loud and not just in his head. He took out his wand and glanced around. But no one was in sight yet.

“Who’s there?” Harry called out, hating that his voice sounded so weak.

“And why is the famous Mr. Harry Potter, sitting in the middle of the road, in London at night?” a voice asked with a sneer.

Harry blinked at the voice, oh bloody hell no, no, no no! Anybody but him! He twisted his head up and what he saw confirmed his worst fear, the one person who could make a bad day complete.

Severus Snape stood near by, arms folded and black robes blowing in the slight wind, glaring down at Harry.