Okay peeps, another story from the beautiful, charming, talented, LILY FINCH! Okay, scratch that, this is a one shot that I wrote in 4th period a few days ago. And with a lot of prompting from my friend and Beta, Lydie, I decided that I might as well post it.
Disclaimer: See the hand in which the Potterverse sits? Yeah, that hand over there, it's not mine got it. That's Rowling's hand.
(11/27/09) Edited for grammar and spelling.
Faux Moon
Privet Drive in Surrey was a place of normality. Every house was the same size, yard neat and precise, car shiny and expensive, and every family good mannered. The Dursley's were a prime example. Vernon Dursley was a successful businessman, working his way up the Grunnings hierarchy, gaining his own private office and bubbly secretary. Petunia Dursley, wife of Vernon, was a diligent housewife. She dusted every speck of dirt into oblivion and holds tea parties with the other wives in the neighborhood. Dudley Dursley was their strong armed son, who attended Smeltings Private School.
But if one were to look closely at the house, at the smallest bedroom at the end of the hall, one would see something not so normal. The door to that room was covered in locks; a small cat flap nestled on the bottom.
On the other side of the door was not a cat, but a boy.
The boy's name was Harry Potter and he was anything but average. He was a wizard and not only that, but one destined to save wizarding kind. Right now, however, Harry had other things on his mind…actually he had one thing on his mind. His godfather; Sirius Black.
His thoughts spun in a one massive whirl. Harry had been unable to place blame on someone for Sirius' death and so blamed himself. Sirius' last moments went screaming through his brain and have been since that tragic night, over a month ago. His thoughts kept him from sleep, and his guilt from moving off the bed. His aunt Petunia, in apparent concern (or fear of retribution from the wizarding world, your choice), shoved a plateful of food through the cat flap twice a day. Petunia was the only reason the broken teen hadn't faded away entirely.
However, even Petunia Dursley's kindness couldn't keep him healthy. The complete absence of sleep drove his already muddy mind into a grey frantic shifting of snippets of thoughts and memories. No one knew of this, of course, since he hadn't seen anyone since he entered his room at the start of summer.
Harry shifted in his bed to ward off the sudden appearance of light that the moon poured on him through the closed window. In moving, he caught sight of his trunk. Briefly he contemplated opening the trunk and doing his summer work. His professors would undoubtedly get angry if he came back next year without any of it done. Harry dismissed this idea immediately; getting his work required him to move off the bed and then he'd have to ignore the broken shards of glass that once was Sirius' gift to Harry.
Closing his eyes, Harry's mind drifted back to Sirius. Instantly, images of his godfather's body soaring through the veil filled the back of his eyelids. His eyes snapped open and Harry breathed heavily through the pain. It was like this every time. He would shut his eyes and the memories came. It was much less painful to just keep his eyes open and bare the resulting exhaustion.
A light wind stroked his face, but Harry paid no heed. He didn't even notice as the room's heat rose to a more comfortable level, or the fact that he could no longer hear Dudley's monstrous snores. His thoughts were focused solely on one large black dog, even as his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing smoothed.
An unearthly sigh was heard as the teen slept for the first time in a months. The sky became dark as the moon disappeared.
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