Harry stirred in his bed, trying his hardest to fall asleep. Nights were the worst for him, especially nights in the Dursley household. Every time his eyes shut, Sirius’s face haunted his vision, the mistakes he had made haunting his thoughts. He should have never assumed Sirius would go to the Mysteries office when he knew how dangerous it was. He never should have provoked Snape and caused him to quit the Occulmency lessons. He should have tried harder, practiced more often, listened to everyone around him instead of thinking he knew what was going on, instead of wanting to know more.

The sound of Dudley’s snoring penetrated the walls, and Harry’s eyes narrowed, he hated being with the Dursley’s, especially right now when he knew everyone else was at Headquarters. He knew it was for the best that he spent the summer with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin Dudley, that their home would keep him safe, but he longed to be with Ron and Hermione, the entire Weasley clan, Lupin, with people from his own world.

Somewhere around dawn he fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be awakened shortly past nine by Uncle Vernon pounding on his door, “Get up! You have a phone call!”

Harry stirred, rubbing his eyes and muttering a few words that would have Hermione in a tizzy if she heard them being used. His body ached from fatigue and sadness, he hadn’t had a decent night’s rest since he had been back on Privet drive, which was over a month ago. He stifled a yawn, padding his way downstairs where Vernon slammed the phone into his hand, “Hello?”

Harry knew that Uncle Vernon was upset that he, Harry, the outcast of the household, was getting a phone call, and he could tell that once the call was complete, Harry would hear an ear full. He could hear his uncle muttering something to Aunt Petunia, probably asking why Harry couldn’t have spent the summer at Hogwarts, or how Harry was spending their hard earned money, or something to that effect, but nothing could bring him down as he immediately recognized the familiar voice.

“Harry!” Hermione squealed, “Harry, has your post been by yet?”

Harry smiled, hoping this meant Hermione had sent him a letter, “No, should I be expecting something?”

“Ron and I got our O.W.L.s today!” Hermione squeaked, “I got O’s in everything! We sent you a letter with Pig, telling you our scores, and wishing you well on yours.” Hermione babbled quickly, obviously ecstatic, “Ron got 10, Mrs. Weasley’s beaming. And you’ll never believe all that’s been happening, it’s just so much to tell you, of course, I can’t tell you now, but I can tell you that we’ll be seeing each other soon, before Hogwarts probably. Prof--I mean, Mooney, is planning to fetch you before term starts to go and get your supplies at Diagon Alley, he’ll be writing to you soon, I suppose, oh, you’ll have to send Hedwig as soon as you get your O.W.L.’s back. I’ve just got to know how you did. My parents were so proud! I thought I had messed up my Arithmancy, but I suppose I managed to do better than I had thought. Oh Harry.” Hermione breathed, “I can’t wait to see you, I just can’t wait to tell you all that’s been going on.”

“Any news on you-know-what?” Harry asked, knowing Hermione couldn’t tell him any of the Order’s knowledge or speculations over the telephone, but hoping she could give him something to look forward to, “Anything at all? Yes or No?”

“Yes.” Hermione said, and Harry could hear a hint of worry in her voice, “But we’ll talk about that later, of course. Ron wants to speak to you, hold on.”

Harry could hear the phone being passed, and Hermione reminding Ron to keep his voice down, and after a few seconds, Ron’s unsure voice said, “Hello?”

“Ron!” Harry breathed excitedly, “I heard you got 10 O.W.L.’s, congratulations!”

“It’s really you!” Ron said excitedly, “I can’t wait to see you again, I’m looking forward to it. And wait until I show you what Fred and George sent me from their shop, it’s a new and improved skiving snackbox. It’s got a load of stuff, it’s going to make this year so much easier, compared to O.W.L. year. They sent me one for you too....Hermione’s got one as well, but of course, you know that’s never going to even get opened. They also bought all of my and Ginny’s textbooks for this year, I guess to give Mum and Dad a break, they’re still trying to make up for leaving school like they did. Mum and Dad nearly blew their tops.”

“I bet they did. How are things going with....” his voice dropped slightly, “Percy?”

“After the Ministry admitted you-know-who was still alive, Percy came crawling back to Mum and Dad, and of course, after awhile they forgave him. Things are still very tense, but they’re at least on speaking terms. I think they forgave him more easily than they did Fred and George...shows who their favorite is, right?”

“Is the ministry pursuing Voldemort? Anything new?” Harry asked, ducking as Uncle Vernon went to grab the phone, bellowing, “There will be no talk of m--m--magic in this house!”

Ron, hearing Vernon’s loud roar, said quickly, “I’ll explain it all when we see each other, don’t let those muggles do you wrong now, it won’t be too much longer.”

Harry barely had enough time to say goodbye before Vernon ripped the phone from the wall, chucking it at Harry and missing him by only centimeters, “How many times do I have to tell you, boy, that there will be no talk of that in my house?! Phone calls, talking to-to--your people! I won’t tolerate it! And that ruddy bird has been keeping me up at night again, it’s about to fly its last flight.”

“I never said anything about magic!” Harry said, dodging the blow that came when he said the “m word”, “And Hedwig does not keep you up at night, you and Dudley both snore loud enough to raise the roof. There’s nothing I want more than to leave and go back to “my world” with “my people”, but I’m stuck here until school starts again, now aren’t I?”

Uncle Vernon stormed out of the room and Aunt Petunia, who was deathly pale at the mention of Voldemort’s name, nodded, “You will stay, but I don’t want any more phone calls, and keep the bird from making too much noise, is that understood?”

Harry went to walk away, surprised to see Aunt Petunia being civil for a change. She grabbed him by the arm and asked softly, “Have you seen him?”

“I’ve seen him several times since I’ve been to Hogwarts.” Harry said plainly, “He’s just getting stronger now. But you don’t have to worry; the best wizard ever is coming up with a plan to stop him.”

“You have your mother’s eyes.” Petunia said softly, letting her hand touch his face very briefly, almost human, “Try not to upset your Uncle, honestly, he’s very frightened about the whole m...magic world.”

Harry, once again, turned to walk away, but an owl swooped in the open window instead. Seeing that is wasn’t Hedwig or Pig, he took the letter from the owl’s leg and opened it, his face breaking into a wide grin. He had achieved 11 O.W.L.S He raced upstairs and scribbled a note to Ron and Hermione, tying it to Hedwig’s leg and sending her off.

He laid on his bed, sadness filling his body once more. Although he enjoyed talking with Ron and Hermione, it just made him ache longingly for a chance to see them. He hated knowing they were together, having fun and enjoying each other while he was stuck with the Dursley’s, without friends, for weeks upon weeks. If there was anything he hated more than staying on Privet drive, it was doing it under these surreal circumstances. Aunt Petunia hadn’t been the same since he returned, he was able to see more and more as time passed that she knew more about his world than she let on to his Uncle Vernon.

He rolled over onto his stomach, starting on his summer reading assignment for his History of Magic class, and after several hours, he fell into a bored sleep.

Some time later, the door opened, and his aunt walked in, “Keep quiet, your Uncle is asleep. I want to show you something.”

Harry’s eyes were wide with surprise as his Aunt sat next to him on the bed, placing a box the size of a cereal box between them. “I retrieved this from my parents’ estate when they passed on.”

He watched as she opened the box, pulling out several photographs (none of which moved, he noted disappointingly, although not surprised, his maternal grandparents were muggles, after all). Some were really old, yellowing around the edges. He picked up one of the older ones, which showed two children playing. “Is this my mother?”

Aunt Petunia nodded silently, pointing to the younger red-haired child, “This was your mother.” she motioned to the older child, “And that was me. This was taken just a few weeks before Lily got her Hog--her letter from school.” She sifted through the other pictures, finally getting to the most recent ones.

“This is from your parents wedding.” Aunt Petunia said softly, “And this one is of the three of you, not long before Lily and James died.”

The box contained probably near 50 pictures, and Harry’s eyes lit up at the opportunity to see his parents, see into their past. Aunt Petunia’s voice was soft as she continued, “Your headmaster has informed me that this will most likely be the last summer you will stay with us.”

This, in fact, was news to Harry. He gasped, half surprised, since he knew he was being sent back to his relatives annually for his own safety, half concealing excitement, and waited for his Aunt to continue.

“I find it only fitting that I give these photographs to you.” Her eyes were slightly misty as she looked fondly at the older pictures of her and Lily. “Before we knew what she was....we were extremely close. She would have been proud of you for handling what you’ve had to handle. I’m sure you believe we are unaware of what goes on at your school, but your headmaster does send us progress reports several times a year. Luckily, your Uncle is not aware of this.”

Harry opened his mouth to question her, but she cut him off, “I know last summer you had a lot of questions for me, about my knowledge of your world. I’m sure you understand how it would be nearly impossible for me not to pick anything up from your parents. Your headmaster-” [She couldn’t bring herself to say Dumbledore] “He has sent a letter to inform me that several of his colleagues will be sent to pick you up later this week. A Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody. I just wanted to say before you leave...”

She trailed off, as if it was paining her to say what she was saying. Harry continued to stare at her, opened mouthed in shock, unable to remember any other time she was this forward, civilized, and well, caring towards him. She spoke again, softly, “I know we don’t get along. I know you will probably be so much happier away from here. Just be careful. Voldemort killed my sister, my brother-in-law.” [She spat out the last part, a look of hatred briefly crossing her face], “And even though I’m not in contact with your people, I know he’s dangerous. Just watch yourself.”

She stood, obviously feeling as uncomfortable as Harry felt, and walked to the door, stopping in the doorway and turning back to him, her normal scowl back on her face, “We wouldn’t want the time and energy we’ve spent over the last 16 years to be wasted now, would we?”

She shut the door behind her, and Harry looked back down at the photographs, anxiety in his chest. His mother’s childhood was at his fingertips. He had just been given the best gift the Dursleys had ever given him. He looked at the doorway, almost wishing the moment he had shared with Aunt Petunia had lasted longer. Even though it was the most awkward feeling he had ever felt around her, it felt sort of nice to know she had an inkling of concern about him.

He flipped through photographs until nearly dawn, before shutting his heavy eyes at last and falling into a deep sleep. The was the easiest way to sleep these days, when his mind was so exhausted that it was impossible to stay awake, when his sleep was so deep that visions and dreams couldn’t plague him, disturb him, control him. He had fallen into the pattern right before term had ended in June, once he was back from the Department of Mysteries. He knew Voldemort could get inside of his mind, he knew he was helpless because he hadn’t finished Occulmency, so he tried as hard as he could to focus on what Snape had tried to teach him. After all, if he had tried harder, Sirius would still be alive.

When he awoke the next morning, the Dursleys were bustling busily downstairs. He heard Vernon’s booming voice telling his wife and son goodbye, his car leaving shortly after. Deciding it was too early to get up, his head aching from fatigue, he fell back asleep, taking several calming, cleansing breaths to make his mind blank before succumbing to sleep once more.

The next time he awoke, the alarm clock beside his bed read 3:45 p.m. The house was quiet. His cousin, Dudley, was most likely out with the neighborhood kids, while his Aunt Petunia was certainly in front of the television watching talk shows or soap operas, whichever was keeping her interest these days. He turned away from his alarm clock, suddenly very aware of the stabbing pain in his head. The dull throb that he had gotten used to had intensified greatly over the short period of time, and it now felt as if his head were going to break into two.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to determine if the pain was coming from his scar or not. Concentrating became too unbearable very quickly, and before he realized what was happening, he found himself in the bathroom, violently ill.

He sat on the floor, now able to tell that it was indeed his scar searing with pain. Forcing himself not to vomit again, he shakily stood, staring at himself in the mirror, his face a pale grey. What did this mean? Was Voldemort near? Was he planning something? For a split second, he wished he had been able to see what was going on, through Voldemort’s eyes, but quickly shook that thought away. Look where that had gotten him last time, Sirius’s death. Another wave of sickness passed through him, and he knelt down by the toilet once more, wishing this would all end, but he knew it wouldn’t.

The only way Voldemort would go away for good was for Harry to kill him, and as much as he loathed Voldemort, he didn’t know enough, he didn’t have it in him, to kill someone. ‘Even if that someone murdered your parents? Your Godfather?’ a nagging voice rang in his ears. “Yes.” he muttered softly.

Another stabbing pain jolted through his head, but he brushed it aside, forcing himself to rise and stumble back into his darkened bedroom, falling onto his bed and falling back asleep. His dreams were plagued with snakes, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Sirius, all mingled into a bizarre situation, one he couldn’t even remember when he finally fluttered back to consciousness.

“Harry. Harry!”

A voice was calling to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, the pain in his head still very intense. He felt himself being shaken, and suddenly realized that the voice didn’t belong to his Aunt, Uncle, or Cousin.

“P--Professor Lupin?” Harry asked groggily, opening his eyes, the pain in his head making his vision blurry. “What--what are you doing here?”

Remus Lupin was looking down on him with concern, “Your Aunt called for you, I suppose you didn’t hear her. What are you doing, sleeping at nearly 6 PM? You look dreadful Harry.”

“Headache.” Harry replied, sitting up in bed, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve come to take you.” Lupin said gently, “Are you okay to travel?”

Harry nodded, shoving things into his trunk. The pain was slowly starting to fade, and he was starting to become fully alert of his surroundings. “Aunt Petunia said that Moody would be with you.”

“He’s downstairs.” Lupin replied, “We’re traveling by knight bus, you’re still too young to apparate. By the way, congratulations on your O.W.L.S Ron and Hermione told me. They’re very anxious to see you.”

Harry noticed that Professor Lupin looked even thinner than the last time he had seen him, his eyes showing his progressing age. It was then that Harry was able to appreciate that while he lost a dear friend himself, someone else was going through the same pain as he was.

“How are you doing?” Harry asked, as he snapped his trunk closed, gathering Hedwig’s cage and slipping on his shoes.

“Better.” Lupin responded, “You?”

Harry shrugged, helping Lupin bring the trunk downstairs, where Mad Eye Moody was standing in the foyer, his Aunt Petunia watching disapprovingly from the entrance to the kitchen.

“Goodbye Harry.” She said as they made their way out of the door.

Harry turned around, stunned, “Yeah, Goodbye. Take care.”

The door shut behind him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of bizarre universe he had stepped into. Things were completely different from normal. He just hoped someone would be able to answer his questions once they got to headquarters.

As they climbed onto the knight bus, Stan pointing out loudly that Harry Potter was their new passenger, Harry’s mind wandered to a new question. Now that Sirius was...dead...[the thought of that word still made him shudder] where would the headquarters be? As if Lupin was reading his mind, he said quietly, “We’re still at the same place. When we set up headquarters, Sirius made it known to everyone that if something happened to him, the estate was to go to you.”

Harry looked down, uncomfortable with the situation. He didn’t know if he could be around that house once more. It was one thing to be around the people that reminded him of Sirius, to be the one who was responsible for Sirius’s death, but to be in the house of his godfather, after all that had happened...it may just be too difficult, there would be too many reminders of Sirius. He felt tears prickle his eyes, and refused to let them fall, sitting down next to Lupin.

The knight bus started up, and Harry’s stomach gave a lurch. He found himself very glad he hadn’t eaten all day; he had almost forgotten how awful the knight bus was. Shortly, they were arriving at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He helped Lupin with his trunk again, and braced himself for the emotion he knew was coming.

The moment the door opened, Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a tight embrace, “How are you doing? You look so pale and thin, have those awful muggles been starving you?”

“No Mam.” Harry said quietly, looking down. He couldn’t believe he was in this house without Sirius. His heart ached to change the past, and as sadness engulfed him, he wished he could excuse himself for bed.

“Harry!” Exclaimed Ron and Hermione’s voices in unison, as they bombarded him with hugs, “You look awful.” Ron said bluntly, “What have those muggles been doing to you?”

“Are you still beating yourself up about Sirius?” Hermione asked sternly, “Ron’s right, you look miserable.”

“Gee, thanks.” Harry said sarcastically, allowing Mrs. Weasley to put a mug of butterbeer in his hands, “I’m fine.”

“Come on now, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said softly, “Professor Dumbledore is waiting in the kitchen to have a word with you.” She turned to Ron and Hermione, “Go wait upstairs, he’ll join you shortly.”

“See you then.” Ron said brightly, he and Hermione disappearing upstairs.

Lupin turned to Harry, giving him a soft smile, “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No thanks.” Harry said softly, giving him an apologetic smile, “I’ve put you through enough today.”

“Nonsense.” Lupin replied, “I’ll get this upstairs for you.” With that, he tapped his wand on the trunk and it disappeared.

Harry took a deep breath, walking into the kitchen, where Dumbledore stood, waiting for him, “Yes Professor?”

“Have a seat Harry.” Dumbledore said in his soft voice, “I’m afraid we’re going to have some changes this school year, not all for the better. I’m sure you realize security will be a lot tighter now, with Voldemort’s return being public.”

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued, “Quidditch practices will be affected; we will not permit unsupervised practices, and also roaming of the grounds. I know that you and your friends enjoy making visits to Hagrid, but this year we simply cannot permit it. That means no invisibility cloaks, no sneaking around. We don’t want any unfortunate accidents this term.”

“You came all the way here just to tell me these new rules?” Harry asked, his voice skeptical. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s unusual.”

“Not just to tell you these new policies.” Dumbledore said with a smile, “I’m here to make a proposition to you. I’m pretty sure that staying here isn’t high on your list of things you wanted to do this summer, I’m sure this house brings back a lot of memories you probably aren’t ready to face yet. I have spoken with Arthur and Molly Weasley, they are in agreement with me that you, Ronald and Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all summer long. After getting your school supplies, the four of you will be staying at Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, “Honestly? That’s great!”

“I thought you would enjoy the fresh air, maybe some Quidditch practice. We’ll have plenty of staff to watch over you, without actually watching you, and hopefully you’ll even manage to find some time to get some summer homework completed.” He winked at Harry, “With N.E.W.T. level Potions, you’ll need to study hard.”

Harry stood, feeling happier and more at ease than he had in months, and was halfway to the door when Dumbledore stopped him, “Harry, wait.”

Harry turned, and Dumbledore spoke softly, yet firmly, “Before term starts, we are going to continue with your Occulmency lessons, both Professor Snape and I will be giving them to you accordingly, as our schedules permit.” He paused for a moment, studying Harry’s face intently, “Is there something troubling you?”

Harry shook his head, blinking back tears. He hated to lie to Professor Dumbledore, he wished he could blurt out everything he was feeling, the guilt, the pain in his scar, the aching to have Sirius back, the sleepless nights, the agony he felt, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit these things, because that would make it real.

He spoke quietly and quickly, trying to change the subject, “I’ve been practicing Occulmency, I haven’t had any dreams or visions since summer began. I’ve been going on what Professor Snape had taught me, but it seems to be helping a bit.” He hesitated, but decided to go ahead and ask what had been on his mind all summer, “What’s happening with Voldemort?”

Dumbledore nodded, as if he had been waiting for Harry to ask this, “There have been several murders, and they have arrested some of the death eaters who had escaped the night of the Department of Mysteries. No one knows where he is at, but the Order is growing rapidly, and hopefully we’ll find something out soon.”

“Thanks for being straightforward with me.” Harry said appreciatively before turning towards the door. He had several more questions to ask, but his head was starting to ache terribly again and he knew they could wait. Perhaps even Ron or Hermione would be able to help him answer them.

He silently walked upstairs, his scar aching. ‘I don’t want to know what he’s doing.’ Harry repeated silently to himself over and over, forcing himself to keep his mind blank. He wasn’t going to tap into Voldemort’s thoughts, it was too risky. He entered the room, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s questions as he sat on the bed, his hand pressed against his scar, forcing himself not to throw up; his head felt like it had been beaten by a bludger.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, concerned, “Are you alright?”

Harry shook his head, groaning as he pressed his other hand to his head, “My scar.”

“Are you still seeing you-know-who’s thoughts?” Ron asked anxiously, “Do you want me to fetch someone? Professor Lupin? Mum? Professor Dumbledore?”

Harry shook his head again, “It will pass.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, pausing for confirmation before continuing, “Did Professor Dumbledore tell you that we’re going to be staying at Hogwarts until term starts?”

Harry nodded, his vision starting to blur, the pain in his head intensifying. “It’s great.”

“Harry, you look awful, are you sure you’re okay?” Ron asked, his face showing the concern his voice held, “Can we do something for you?”

Harry shook his head, running his hands over his forehead, “I should be used to it by now...I just hate having to fight this. And I hate being in this house again. We shouldn’t be here, it’s my fault he’s gone, and it’s wrong to be in his home, acting like nothing has ever changed.”

“It’s not like that Harry.” Hermione said softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Harry nodded, “It was. I was being the hero, I’m always being the hero. But not anymore, mark my words, I’m done with that. If I wasn’t so keen to save people all of the time, to fix everything, I would have been sensible enough to go to someone and trust them to handle things. If I wouldn’t have jumped the gun, Sirius might still be alive.”

“But now the Ministry is on to Voldemort’s return, people know you were telling the truth, they’ll start trying to stop him now.” Hermione said gently, “You mustn’t beat yourself up over something that you can’t take back now.”

“The truth came out at Sirius’s expense.” Harry muttered, “You just don’t know what it’s like.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.” Hermione insisted, “It will make you go mad.”

Harry ignored her, rummaging through his trunk until he found the pictures his Aunt had given him. He spread them over his bed, a small smile creeping over his lips, even though the memory of his mother made him sad. She was so happy in the pictures, her long hair flowing over her shoulders as she smiled at the camera, her arms wrapped around his Aunt Petunia’s neck. In another picture, she was riding her bicycle, showing off for the camera, with no hands on the handle bars. And in another, surrounded by family in front of a birthday cake, his Aunt sitting right next to her, a broad smile on her face.

“What have you got?” Ron asked, “Is that your mother? Where did you get those?”

“My Aunt Petunia gave them to me.” Harry said, his voice soft. If he thought hard enough, he could almost imagine her, laughing and cutting up with the people she loved. He longed to hear her voice again, to see her, to remember something from his very, very early childhood, anything to hold on to his mother, or his father.

Ron went to ask another question, but Hermione cut him off with a glare, “Harry, you should get some rest.”

“Nah.” Harry said, holding up one taken at his parent’s wedding, “Look at this one.”

The still shot contained his parents, Sirius, Lupin, and some others he assumed were his grandparents, all containing smiles, Aunt Petunia on the very edge of the photograph, a scowl on her face. “Look how happy everyone was.”

“Look how young everyone was.” Ron added, a grin on his face, “Professor Lupin looks so much different now.”

Harry nodded, rising to his feet when Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs for everyone to come down for dessert and tea, which, Ron informed him, meant that they were going to get a talking to about eavesdropping on the Order meeting that was to take place later that night.

“Turns out Fred and George taught Ginny a number of things.” Ron was telling Harry as they walked down the stairs, “And she’s smart as a whip, she’s picking up where they left off as the prankster of the house.”

“It’s a shame she’s not using her intelligence to get a head start on her studying.” Hermione informed them, “She’s got O.W.L.’s this term.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Aw, let her have her fun, its summer, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Harry, great to see you again!” Tonks greeted him as they reached the landing, her hair a flaming orange, “I was wondering when they’d bring you back here.”

“I can’t complain, I just completed my last summer with the muggles.” Harry said happily, as the statement his Aunt had made fully registered. “All those years of patience paid off, finally.”

“Patience? Blowing up your Aunt?” Hermione reminded him, “Running away? Sure, that’s patience Harry.”

“It could have been so much worse.” Harry said as they walked into the kitchen, “You’ve never had to spend any time with them.”

“Far be it for Mr. Potter to show self-restraint on any given occasion.” Snape sneered, making his presence known to the teenagers, “Everyone knows subtlety is not his forte.”

Harry felt the small improvement of his mood since his arrival quickly melt away, dread sinking like lead in his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was have a row with his potions professor right now. The last thing he needed was to have the blame for all of his misdoings thrown back into his face to further drive the pain in his heart.

Silence fell over the room as Harry stared into his professor’s black eyes, both in a silent battle of wills to see who would break the stare first. After a few moments, Harry succumbed and gave an apologetic smile to Molly Weasley, “I’m not that hungry, I think I will turn in early.”

As he fled upstairs, he heard his best friend’s mother give an exasperated sigh, muttering “Is it really necessary to provoke the boy at every turn?”

Harry could clearly picture the redhead’s piercing stare and he almost smiled. Once in his room, however, the silence grew deafening and the familiar feeling of dread and misery started to tug on his insides, extinguishing even the mere memory of the warm feelings he had been feeling moments earlier in the company of his friends. As tears threatened to break through the walls he had constructed, he buried his face into his pillow, wishing once more that he had fallen through the veil instead of Sirius, that he had been granted the luxury to die instead of being forced to live his nightmare of a life.

As he lay on his bed, his fists clenched, he couldn’t help but wonder what his problem was. It felt like his moods were being controlled by a light switch, flipping off and on by mere chance, the smallest thing setting him off. Since when did he care what the professor had to stay to and about him? His opinion had never mattered before, and it certainly shouldn’t matter now.

Maybe he was too far gone to even let logic take precedence in his mental struggle between what he felt and what he should be feeling. He forcefully raked his hands through his hair, the emotional pain suddenly becoming too much to bear without some sort of physical outlet. This was Sirius’s house; he should be sitting next to Harry, helping rationality in its plight against guilt. He should be giving some sort of anecdote to make the situation easier, distracting Harry from the swirling emotions threatening to drown him.

Of course, if Sirius had been sitting beside Harry, Harry wouldn’t be in nearly as much pain as he currently felt. A sob burst through the barricades that Harry had constructed as the reality of how truly alone he was began to sink in. Things could only get worse from here.