Harry slowly pushed his mashed potatoes along the outside of his plate, completing the fifteenth full revolution since lunch had begun. He sighed and looked around the room absentmindedly, taking in the same familiar people he had been cohabitating with for six years. It was the second weekend of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards, and so far it didn't seem to be a very promising year. Harry sighed again, not wanting to recall the events of his fifth year at Hogwarts. It was difficult not to, though, since everyone else at the school seemed so wary of it. Even his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger seemed cautious around him. Everyone's attitudes had only made Harry confine himself to his room for hours at a time, doing homework or polishing his beloved broomstick, the Firebolt. But even Quidditch was difficult for Harry. His broom was a present from his godfather, Sirius, who was murdered by a group of Death Eaters. Not a day went by that Harry didn't miss Sirius. He had saved all of Sirius' letters and put them in his scrapbook, behind all the pictures of his parents. But Harry didn't want to think of that any more. It had become too difficult for Harry to dwell on all of his losses. He just felt stuck, surrounded by the all too familiar faces of Hogwarts, where nothing seemed to go right. Of course, he still loved his school. He wasn't entirely sure he could stand to be any place else, and he was grateful for it. Dumbledore especially had helped him survive the seemingly endless summer. But now he was back, and alone. Alone. That's how Harry really felt, like there was no one else out there. And there really wasn't. Harry's frustration rose, like it had thousands of times since Sirius' death. Why him? Why always him? Malfoy would scornfully spit, "The great, ever suffering Harry Potter. Oh boo hoo Potter, do you need a tissue?" But he never asked to be the "great Harry Potter." And he would give nearly anything just to be a normal kid. He craved normality, being normal meant knowing his parents. It meant being able to have Sirius over for dinner if he wanted to. Being normal meant no more freak accidents, no more tests to see how strong the "great Harry Potter" really was. Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, but he had cried enough. He threw down his fork and flew out to Hagrid's hut, nearly knocking someone over in his haste.