Time seemed to pass by slower than the snail on its way to the shadows of the nearest bush, in search for relieve from the burning heat. Harry Potter lay on his stomach on the freshly mown field of grass in front of number four Privet Drive. His head was propped up by his hands and he had a bored expression on his face.

It was almost halfway through the summer before the start of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts and he had not yet heard much from his friends or the order. This irritated him tremendously because he was eager to leave his aunt and uncle's house, but found that he couldn't complain too much. Not after what happened at the end of last year.

He sighed and rolled on his back to watch the clear blue sky. Normally he could entertain himself with trying to imagine shapes in the clouds above him, but now there were none. It was just one of those perfect summer days in the perfect neighbourhood of Little Whinging where the perfect Dursley family lives. Harry was sick of the place and the impossibly long list of chores they made him complete each day. He was sick of having to hear Uncle Vernon's nasty remarks and Aunt Petunia's disapproving snorts. He was fed up with running from Dudley and his cronies and getting beat up by them more often than previous summers. But again, he shouldn't complain.

With a sigh he pushed himself off from the ground to stand up and went to put the lawn mower back in the shed. When he had secured the mower he went for the gardening tools for the next duty on the list. He trimmed the hedges and pulled out weeds from Aunt Petunia's flower garden. When he straightened his back to relieve it of a throbbing pain in the lower part, he heard his cousin shouting.

"Oi, Potter!" Harry saw Dudley raise one of his sausage-like arms from the other end of the sidewalk. He also saw that his cousin wasn't alone. He was flanked by his usual gang of followers, Piers and Dennis on his right side, Gordon and Malcolm on his left. Even though all the boys had grown significantly since last summer, Dudley was still the biggest of the group.

"Tending the gardens again, four-eyes?" one of Dudley's buddies asked loudly as the five of them came closer to the garden.

Harry chose to ignore them and went to look for more weeds.

"Shouldn't you at least greet us?" Dudley asked with a grin.

When Harry remained silent Dudley became angry. He put his large body in front of Harry to prevent him from continuing on the garden and crossed his arms, which made Harry wonder how he was able to do that considering the size of them. Harry looked up and glared at him but said nothing as he turned around to tend the hedges on the other side of the Dursley's garden.

"Why don't you come to the playground with us?"  one of the other boys, Malcolm, said with a threatening tone.

"Yeah, we could have so much fun," the tallest and thinnest, Dennis, said with a grin.

Harry knew where this was going and contemplated his course of action. He could just jump over the hedge and start running. That way there was a slight chance of escape. He could also run back into the house but then his uncle would probably send him straight back outside and then he would be surrounded. An even slighter chance of escape.

With an inward sigh he turned towards the gang, consciously dropping the gardening tools to the side to make sure they would not be in the way of his escape route.

"You know, with your size, it would be best not to hang around the playground too much. You don't want people to call you lazy Dud now, would you?"

Harry could almost see the steam leave his Dudley's ears and stepped back just in time to dodge his sausage fingers trying to grab the front of his shirt.

"Get him Big D!"

That was his cue. With the agility of an athlete Harry jumped over the hedge and ran towards the other end of the street. He was quickly followed by the group even though Dudley and another heavy boy fell behind rather quickly. Only three to outrun now. Harry sped up towards the small mall that was only a few blocks away. There must be enough people around there to scare his followers enough to abandon their pursuit.

He felt his heartbeat quicken as the mall came in sight and ran towards the nearest entrance, convinced that he had escaped yet another round of "Pummel Harry". When he was only a couple of yards away he was suddenly and forcefully shoved against his side and this resulted in a rough landing on the pavement, scraping his knee and palms. He looked up and saw the slightly more muscled member of Dudley's group towering over him and a quick glance to the right told Harry that the others were quickly closing in. Without thinking twice, Harry sprung up and began running again, just escaping the thug's attempt to grasp him.

Why were there no people around to stop them? He blindly ran into an alley that separated the mall from the apartment building next to it. His heart sank as he realised the alley had a dead end. He turned back to where he came from but his pursuers where already blocking the exit. Harry looked over his shoulder to see whether he could climb over the wall but that seemed to be impossible. He was panting for breath while slowly backing away from the intimidating group, considering all his options of escape.

He could try to dash for the sides in the hope to surprise them with his speed, but that was very unlikely considering the width of the alley. Fighting back was out of the question as well. There were three of them, soon five, and Harry was on his own. Not to mention the fact that he was a bit smaller than them and had probably less brute strength. Using his wand was a viable idea, apart from the problem of his opponents being muggles and the risk of expulsion for underage use of magic outside of school.

But all these options were negated when Harry was forcefully shoved and pinned against the wall on the side of the alley. The muscled one held his right arm firmly while a smaller brown haired boy held his left one. Dudley and the other whale had caught up with them and where now standing in front of Harry, panting heavily but looking very proud of themselves. Harry glared at them and tried to shake the other two off.

"We... got you now... Potter", Dudley said in between heavy breaths. His face was as red as a tomato from the sudden exercise and thick drops of sweat rolled down the sides of his head.

"Not used to actually moving those legs of yours, are you?", Harry said mockingly while trying to get his racing heartbeat under control. Since he couldn't possibly get away he felt resigned. He had obviously lost this round.

Which wasn't always the case, usually he managed to out-run Dudley and his cronies. Having been subjected to many games of "Harry-Hunting" over the years, he knew the best hiding spots in the neighbourhood. Dudley never was smart enough to find out what they were, being forced to forfeit the game. Unfortunately this also often resulted in a beating from his uncle or a slap from his aunt, as they hated it when their sweet "Dudderkins" was unhappy. Not that Dudley told them that he was out trying to beat the crap out of Harry. He would conjure up a lie about how Harry had thrown a stone or a handful of sand in his direction, whining that he couldn't understand how mean Harry could be to someone so loyal and kind as himself. It never mattered what Harry said in his defence, it was his word against their only son and they would always choose his side. So Harry learned a long time ago to stop trying to persuade them otherwise.

Because his thoughts were elsewhere, Harry did not see the first punch coming.

Dudley had thrown his fist in Harry's stomach, which made him double over and knocked the air out of his lungs. He didn't have time to recover before the next blow came to the side of his head.

Malcolm and Gordon heaved him upright again and one of them grabbed a fistful of his hair to yank his head up to face Dudley.

"That will teach you not to mess with us," Dudley spat in his face furiously. He probably didn't appreciate losing face with his buddies and was bound to get their respect back.

"You're just a freak, a lowlife. You are nothing, you hear me? Nothing compared to us!" He emphasized his exclamations with a few more punches in Harry's gut.

Next thing Harry knew, Malcolm and Gordon let his arms go and he fell to the ground on hands and knees. Dennis and Piers came in to kick him in the side so he fell over and rolled on his back. Then Dudley came in view, towering menacingly over him with his large body. Harry was shocked to find that his vision had become a little blurry.

"You are worthless. You will never be better than us. You will never be a hero. You're guilty of destroying everyone around you. Murderer..."

Harry's eyes widened at his last words. Dudley lifted his heavy leg to give Harry one last kick, but halted when Piers shrieked behind him.

"What in the world is that?!" Piers stared wide-eyed at the other end of the alley, one arm outstretched to point to a creature-like appearance.

Harry turned his head and saw something that reminded him a bit of a Patronus charm, only this one was not silver and translucent. It emanated darkness and gave him the same chill that a dementor would have. Was this Dark Magic? Through his blurry vision he tried to make out the shape of the being, and his heart struck in his throat as he thought he saw... a doe? But that couldn't be right... Mum?

Before he had a chance to take a closer look, the appearance was set aflame. Dark and reddish flames emanated from the shape though no warmth could be felt from them. Then it galloped towards the group swiftly, seemingly on ramming course. Dudley and his gang screamed in fear, trying to get away even though there was no escape. Harry only had a few seconds in which he threw his arm up to protect his head from impact.

It didn't matter because seconds later the appearance seemed to have passed right through them, like smoke, and disappeared. It did the trick for Harry's predicament though. As he lifted his arm carefully he saw Dudley and his gang fearfully pushing and shoving each other to get out of the ally as fast as possible, leaving Harry behind on the ground.

Harry rolled back to look at the wall behind him and frowned when he saw nothing but untarnished bricks. What the hell was that thing?

With a groan he pushed himself to sit up and lean his back and head against the wall and let his thoughts run back to the events. Though he was used to getting beaten up by Dudley, this was something else. Where had that Patronus-like shape come from? The alley and beyond was deserted as far as he could tell. And what had Dudley said to him right before that?

Murderer...

Dudley would never say something like that, would not know how much Harry felt it applied to him. Come to think of it, his last words did sound a little more high-pitched than usual...

Harry shook his head. That was impossible. Maybe the blow to his head made him see and hear things that weren't actually there. As his thoughts fell back to his injuries he became aware of a throbbing sensation on the side of his head. He brought a slightly shaking hand up to his cheekbone and prodded the sensitive skin. With a hiss he realised his skin was swollen and, judging by the painful sensation, would probably leave a huge bruise.

He let out a puff of air which he didn't realise he had been holding and tried to release the tension in his shoulders. He gingerly felt around his side, prodding his ribs were the kicks had landed, and was glad to find out they only felt a bit tender so he expected there was no serious damage to them.

He stayed seated against the brick wall, which was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, until the blurry feeling in his head had passed and he felt confident that he would be able to walk without trouble.

He slowly got up, keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself and waited for the dizzy spell that was sure to come. Luckily it didn't and he was pleased to find he was able to stand firmly on the ground without the support of the alley wall. Deciding he'd better get out of there before other punks would show up and take him on a second round, he slowly but surely made his way out.

As he left the semi-dark alley and stepped back into the shopping mall area, squinting his eyes against the sunlight, he heard a voice from his left.

"Are you alright, son?"

Harry turned towards the voice and saw a rather old man with a flat cap on his head, holding a shopping bag full of groceries. It struck Harry that his eyes were expectant and full of pity. He cleared a lump in his throat before replying.

"I'm fine."

"Dad, what are you doing?" A middle-aged woman jogged swiftly towards the old man, and took his bag from his hands. She had a kind face and reminded Harry a little of Molly Weasley, but her brows were pulled in an angry frown. Harry was surprised to find anger and fear in her eyes.

She took a disapproving look at Harry before pulling the man away from him, an arm draped protectively around his back. Harry frowned at this confusing behaviour but realisation dawned after he heard her next words spoken to the old man in a hushed voice.

"You should stay away from young thugs like that, Dad. You never know what they might do to you and you are unable to defend yourself."

Harry stared after them. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, he probably did look like a wanted criminal, with his dirty oversized clothes, untamed hair and bruised skin. Even so, he felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over his head at the sight of that angry and fearful look. A look that screamed judgement and disgust, pity and disappointment all in one. Feelings he had tried all summer to suppress with all his might, came crashing down upon him and his lungs suddenly felt devoid of air.

His feet started moving, but he did not register where they went. At least he felt confident that his feet would know where to go. He wandered around the neighbourhood, many different thoughts and memories swirling in his head. Even though he had promised himself not to pay any attention to them all summer, or better yet, never again, he could not stop the train of thoughts racing through his mind.

That small snippet of conversation had reminded him of who he felt he was, deep inside. But even before that, when he had thought Dudley had called him a murderer. He was exactly that, nothing more. The face of Sirius Black appeared in his mind's eye, and his chest clenched with unfathomable guilt for the death of his godfather. He felt a physical pain in his heart, as if someone had stabbed it with a knife. His feet started running, trying in vain to out-run the all encompassing guilt he felt burning inside.

It was not until he felt the floor beneath his feet sink slightly that he looked op and registered where he was. He had ended up in the playground just a couple of blocks away from the Dursley residence. It was thankfully deserted and Harry went to sit on one of the swings to gather his thoughts. The sun already hung low in the sky, so it must be getting dark soon. Harry also realised that dinnertime had probably come and gone as well, but couldn't bring himself to care. He never was a regular attendant at the Dursleys' dinner table anyway.

He sat down, closed his eyes and let the breeze of the cooling summers day calm him down. He had not had a meltdown like this since he wrecked Albus Dumbledore's office at the end of the school year. He had also not cried since that day either. He took pride in that fact, made him feel like he was able to appear strong on the outside and go on with his life as if the last couple of weeks had not happened at all. But he knew he couldn't out-run these feelings indefinitely. Today had been an example of that.

He had just felt depressed and alone, wishing with all his heart that he could have done things differently. That he could turn back time to just be with Sirius, to see his smile once more, feel his arm around his shoulders and to hear his confident voice telling him everything would be okay. And he would feel safe and loved and at peace. Even with the sharp sword of the prophecy hanging above  him, waiting for the right moment to chop his head clean off, he would feel content. Because he knew that friends, and especially family, would get him through everything. Even if it meant he himself had to die, he would gladly do it knowing they would be alive and happy, having made happy memories with Harry while he was alive. He knew he would still run headlong into raging fires for Hermione and Ron for instance, knew that he would not hesitate for even a second. But he also knew that he needed someone, an adult, a father figure, a family of his own to help quell the fear and desperation that welled within him at the prospect. He did not exactly fear death, he figured, but he feared loneliness and the feeling of not belonging anywhere. He feared he would look back at his short life and see only an outcast, someone whose story was not relevant enough to be told. He was afraid of dying alone, on a cold ground at Voldemort's feet, having no one to hold his hand and whisper in his ear that he had done well, that he was enough.

Harry longed to have someone to share that intense fear with, a fear that he had buried somewhere deep inside him and would probably take with him to his grave. Even though Ron and Hermione where the best friends he could ever wish for, he could not bring himself to share everything on his mind with them. He could just imagine their looks of anguish, hopelessness and pity. And he wouldn't be able to bear their pity or sorrow because of him. He would rather they remember the good times they had together.

Another person he would have shared his inner thoughts with instead of Sirius would be Remus. But at the thought of his former professor his chest clenched again with that familiar feeling of guilt. He had not seen Remus since the day Sirius died, as he had been held by the man in an attempt to prevent Harry from going after Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius was the only friend Remus had left in this world and Harry had taken him from him. He would not be able to look at the anger and despair in Remus' eyes.

Had he not been so stupid to run to the ministry based on a vision, of which he had KNOWN to be questionable, Sirius would have lived. He would probably have spent this summer with him, staying up late, playing games and have long conversations while enjoying a nice cold butterbeer. Why must life be so unfair?

Thinking of the vision Voldemort had sent him, brought back unpleasant memories. Even though it was fake, it had felt so real to him at the time. The fear and despair were real to him. Why had the only adult that he had desperately confided in, not seen that and helped him? Severus Snape always boasted about his ability to see right through someone, yet choose to ignore Harry when his plea for help was most obvious. Once again he had let his hatred for Harry's father dominate his actions, and Sirius had to pay the price for that.

Harry kicked a nearby stone into the bushes that surrounded the playground. It felt good to let anger take over him. It was familiar and it made him feel more in control than the utter hopelessness that other feelings brought up.

He looked up and realised that he had sat brooding for quite some time, as the sun had set and it had grown dark. The Dursleys would probably be unhappy about that, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans and took off towards his summer residence.