The last three weeks of Harry Potter's life since he left Hogwarts boiled down to one thing that mattered: the safety net which he developed since the numbness had first taken place after Sirius died; after he and Dumbledore had their last conversation. Sirius was gone, and that was all that seemed to have mattered. Hermione and Ron had been sending him owls every week to check on him. His response was always the same:

I'm fine. –H.

Harry didn't want to bother with a real answer. This was entirely alarming to Ron and Hermione. None of his friends had taken him seriously, or rather; they took him too seriously to let him leave them with an answer like that. Ron and Hermione were constantly seeking out ways to get him to talk about Sirius' death, each trying to find answers and give advice to something they hardly new about. They wanted him to talk to them. While he appreciated their concern, he found himself crawling into himself more. There was no desire to discuss what he felt inside. He didn't give them answers to their questions. His friends still did what they could in this time of mourning. They still supported him by sending sweets and foods otherwise to eat that he hid in his loose floorboard.

Thetruth was though; Harry had come to a point where he didn't care about anything. Out of boredom, he occasionally went downstairs to eat. His uncle Vernon hadn't noticed much of a difference, nor had his cousin Dudley. The only time they seemed to have noticed was when they tried to provoke Harry and he didn't react. Whenever this happened, the biggest difference between the Dursleys was the most obvious.

His aunt had changed in how she interacted with Harry. In a passive sense, she had become much nicer to him. Dumbledore's howler had changed things. The memory as to why they had taken Harry in had somehow stuck in her mind. Vernon gave her dirty looks when she didn't yell at Harry for coming down late to eat, (whenever he did come down) or when Harry didn't respond to him.

Harry was thrown off by the fact that Petunia had taken more concern towards him. Even if Harry appreciated it as much as he could, he didn't know how to show it. And even though she had become a little more sensitive, things were basically the same as before. Her first care was still the well being of herself, her child, and her husband.

One particular evening when the Dursleys had gone to bed, Harry went down for something to eat. He wasn't hungry. The only reason he went down was because the food his friends had sent were gone, and he had needed the inspiration to see if he could find something to eat.

"Nothing in the fridge," Harry muttered to himself.

"I left some food in the microwave for you."

Harry turned around to see his aunt, gaunt in her nightgown, staring at him.

"Oh, right. Thanks." He looked in the microwave to see some chicken and vegetables on a plate. He took it out, placed it on the table, and stared at it.

"Well, aren't you going to eat it, boy?" She said sounding a bit temperamental, but at the same time placid and coaxing.

Harry gave her the first kind of smile he had given anyone since he came home. "Not quite sure if I'm hungry. Why are you up?" he added suspiciously.

His aunt gave a curt nod as if to understand his cautious attitude. "I couldn't sleep," she paused. "I suppose we'll just put it back in the fridge in case you find yourself hungry?"

"Sure, that's fine," Harry replied.

Petunia started to walk off back to bed, then turned around. "Harry," she started to say.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" he replied.

"Can I ask you a --" she started to say.

"What?"

"Never mind," she replied. She started to turn around towards the stairs.

"What?"

Harry asked again. For the first time, it seemed as though someone had cared, and it was rather peculiar that it was his aunt. It was even more ridiculous that Harry felt a slight care in her curiosity.

"It's just that," she started. "It just seems as though —"

Harry looked up at her. "What?"

"Did anything serious happen at school?" she asked, full of caution and thoughtfulness. He stared at her in disbelief.

"You're asking me about school?" Harry asked her incredulously.

"Yes, I am." She slowly sat down next to him. "It seems odd that I would even consider asking you anything. Because I certainly don't approve of ma —" She couldn't say it.

"Magic?"

"Yes, right… well anyway. I can't help but feel like wondering since --" she looked around in desperation to try and say what she wanted to express. This was certainly a first in their family history for either a Dursley or a Potter to attempt a deeper connection.

"Since Voldemort came back?" Harry asked numbly.

Petunia nodded. "Is that his name?" She said wide-eyed.

Harry almost smiled. "Yes, that's his na—you knew that, didn't you?"

"So," she said, ignoring his last remark. She paused. "What happened?"

Harryshook his head and let it go. She'd never understand, even if she had made this major attempt to. Not just that, but it seemed as though she wouldn't want to understand. And even if Harry told her, she'd be too overwhelmed and worried for herself and her family after getting over the profound amount of knowledge he would theoretically tell her. It was the first time Harry had felt anything but numb. For a brief second, he imagined the horror that his aunt would feel and finally see, and for that reason alone he considered torturing her with that intense fear.

Harry shook his head again, feeling a sense of awareness that made him feel alive for the first time in a long time. For the sake of everyone's well being, he decided that saying anything would be too much. "You don't want to know, it'll be too much."

"Right, well, I just thought I'd ask," she replied after a brief moment of silence. She looked as though she wanted to leave, but only continued to sit as if she had another question.

"Yes?" Harry asked. "Is there something else?" There was a certain pained look in his face, as though this was even more difficult for him to sit through.

"No," she said, standing up. "Nothing else."

Harry stood up with her. "Well alright then. Good night." She continued to walk upstairs to her room. After she had gone, he went upstairs to his room and took a piece of parchment to write to both Hermione and Ron. This encounter with his aunt was too weird.

Myaunt just made an attempt to ask about my

year at Hogwarts. That's a bit odd, don't you

think?I have a suspicion as to why.

He stopped. Harry hadn't told them all of the things Dumbledore said at their last rendezvous. It was too much to explain in a letter; besides, it could be too dangerous. He crumbled the piece of parchment and threw it away. He made a note to himself in his head to tell his friends about this odd experience. He had spent enough time feeling numb, enough of turning into himself. Time is of the essence, isn't it? he thought to himself. The entire conversation between his aunt and him was too surreal.

"I have to get out of here," he said out loud. A change had overcome Harry's dismal outlook. He wanted a new beginning. A new beginning with people who would simply understand him more. He was still undoubtedly depressed, but he felt it a sudden need to be with his friends. He wrote to Ron.

Ron--

I've got to get out of here. Are you lot at the Burrow?

And if you are, when can I come? It's time I tell you

all what's been going on in my head…

Harry.

He opened his cage to retrieve Hedwig. "Hedwig, take this to Ron at the Burrow, okay?" Hedwig nipped at his finger in understanding. Though Harry didn't know, Hedwig was happy that he was asking for help at last. When Harry was done tying the paper to her leg, she took flight out of the window.

All he could do now was wait.