Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any Harry Potter characters besides some OC ones that may or may not pop up. I also DO NOT own any story plots that are canon. I do, however, own the things that ARE NOT canon.

Ever since the summer started, it's been like the county of Surrey was in a microwave. The heat was intense, with most people preferring to stay indoors with their air conditioning on full blast. Going outside was like taking a walk in the desert. However, everyone got a break from the intense heat one particular day. The wind was blowing and provided a cooling salve to the sweated and blistering skin of anybody who was outside. In fact, the wind was blowing so hard that day that some people could hardly believe they were wishing for winter the day before.

However, there was one person out and about, who didn't really give a damn about the weather, whether it was still the intense heat of the last couple of weeks, or the blessing of the coolness of that day. You'd find him in the village of Little Whinging, a couple blocks from the street of Privet Drive, sitting on a swing set in a park.

He was barely even swinging, in fact his feet haven't left the ground at all. He was just staring off into the distance, not really seeing anything. He was leaning his head against one of the chains of the swing, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

Even though it was quite nice outside, Harry Potter's mood would fit more with storm clouds, thunder and lightning, and freezing rain. He had slight shadows under his eyes, the normally bright green of his irises were dimmed behind his glasses, and his skin was paler than usual.

Harry glumly pushed his feet against the ground, moving the swing a little as he moved his eyes to stare at the ground. It's been three weeks since he left Hogwarts. Three weeks since he got off the train and exited the King Cross station. It's been three weeks since Uncle Vernon took him 'home'. And in those three weeks, Harry has not heard a word from his friends.

He understands if the twins can't write to him. He did, after all, give them his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament so they can make plans for their joke shop, and they were probably really busy with everything, especially if they're doing it with the intention of keeping it from their parents - more specifically, their mother.

But Ron and Hermione? And even Ginny? And Sirius or even Remus? Not a word. Not a peep from any of them. After everything he had just been through? Having Cedric murdered right in front of his eyes, having his arm cut into for access to his blood, which was used in a ritual to bring Voldemort back. Having the Imperius Curse cast upon him, along with the Cruciatus Curse. Twice.

Having to be humiliated in front of Voldemort's Death Eaters and then to duel Voldemort himself. And to top it all off, he saw the spectres of his parents, if only for a moment.

Harry felt his body shudder slightly and an icy chill go down his back as he thought back on the incident that constantly gave him nightmares. The green light from the Avada Kedavra, the jeers of the Death Eaters, Pettigrew's scream as he cut off his own hand…

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments to get his breathing under control, before he opened them again with a sigh.

He thought back to Fudge's reaction on his announcement of Voldemort's return. The man had steadfastly refused to even believe the possibility of him being back. Instead, he believed Rita Skeeter's articles about him being a crazy attention-seeking brat. Before he even left Hogwarts, he saw that The Daily Prophet didn't report anything on Cedric's death. With no contact to the wizarding world and his friends refusing to write to him, Harry has no idea if anything has changed with how things are going.

'Is Dumbledore still trying to convince people?' Harry wondered. 'Does anyone believe us? Is Voldemort only attacking magical communities? Is he even attacking at all? Are people arming themselves against him?'

All these questions swimming around in his head and he had no answers. He was so desperate for any news regarding Voldemort and his Death Eaters that he had taken to watching the news to see if anything unusual was going on. But nothing ever came up. And him always watching television all the time earned him irritated and confused - but mostly irritated - looks and comments from the Dursleys.

They don't make him do any more chores because of Harry's comments about Sirius, his prison-escaped 'deranged' and concerned godfather, but they still gripe and groan about him and insult him every chance they get. Harry escapes them by wandering around outside, weather be damned. But the heat of the last few weeks have been enough to keep Dudley and his gang from hunting him down, so there's a positive side to that.

Harry looked up and noticed the sun was starting to go down. He sighed and got off the swing, making his way back to the house. He didn't feel like getting a tongue lashing from his aunt because he was late and how she didn't want to waste time looking for him or his uncle's not-so-subtle remarks about his intelligence if he couldn't even know the time or Dudley's taunts about being lectured by his parents.

His patience has been rather thin this summer so he'd rather not snap and fling a spell at his so-called relatives. They're not worth Azkaban.

He couldn't even pass the time by doing his summer homework or rereading his Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, or even Potions books. His uncle locked his trunk and his Firebolt in the cupboard under the stairs, incidentally the place he used to sleep in.

Harry had tried writing to his friends but Hedwig has always came back with his letters unopened so he gave up on it. When his letters first came back, he had a brief bout of panic at the thought of Voldemort having them, but then dismissed the idea. If something had happened to them, Harry was certain that someone would let him know.

Shaking away his thoughts, Harry continued walking back to the house.

He was unaware of the sad and understanding eyes that followed him.

Harry entered the house, the cool from outside replaced with the stale stuffiness of the inside, and made his way into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon wasn't home yet and Dudley must've still been at the Arcade with his friend Piers.

"Oh, there you are," Petunia's voice sounded from behind him. "It's almost sundown. Be more attentive to the time, I'd hate to waste my valuable hours looking for you."

Harry ignored her, opening the fridge to grab a bottled water before turning around to head to his room.

"Boy!" Petunia stepped in front of him, preventing his escape to his 'sanctuary'. "You think we enjoy this? Having to deal with you and your freakishness every summer and the ten years before you went to that stupid school? We put food in your stomach and clothes on your back! The least you can do is show some respect when I am talking to you!"

Harry barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes Aunt Petunia."

He pushed past her before she can open her mouth again. He bounded up the stairs as quickly as he could and reached his room, closing the door behind him with a sigh.

He scoffed to himself. 'Put food in your stomach and clothes on your back?' He repeated to himself.

The only food he ate was what they didn't eat, and the clothes he had are what Dudley couldn't fit anymore. And considering he's as big as a baby whale, his clothes always dwarfed his body. He has to roll up the sleeves many times as well as the pant legs.

Harry walked over to Hedwig's cage. She wasn't locked in anymore but she still rests in there when she's tired. His beautiful snowy white owl was his most faithful companion and his dearest friend. He told her his secrets, ranted and raved when he was angry, and even cried when he was overwhelmed. And she was always there, nipping at his fingers, cuddling close to him when he needs it, and even cuffs his head with her wing when he says something stupid. She's a very intelligent owl.

"Hey girl," he said softly, reaching his hand out to rub her head. She gazed at him with her wise amber eyes and hooted at him.

"I hope your day was better than mine," he said, his hand still petting her head. "It wasn't too hot out; hopefully you were able to get some fresh air."

She hooted again.

Harry sighed. "I can't believe Ron and Hermione aren't talking to me. It's like summer before second year all over again; at least then it was because of Dobby, but I doubt he's doing this again. And what about Sirius? Why is he ignoring me?"

Hedwig hooted once more and nipped at his fingers affectionately. A smile crossed his face unbiddenly. It went away quickly when he heard the door slam open and close downstairs and his uncle's and cousin's voices drift upstairs.

"I wish we didn't have to stay here," he said sorrowfully, withdrawing his hand as he did. "You at least deserve to have some freedom. I'm betting just flying in and out of here isn't enough."

He sighed again and went to lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He honestly didn't know how he was going to survive another month with his relatives and with no contact from anybody of the Wizarding World. He wished he could have stayed at Hogwarts for the summers. With its moving staircases, talking portraits, interesting and sometimes scary spectres, the Black Lake, and the green lands surrounding the castle. He especially missed his four-poster bed in his dorm room, especially when he's laying on the uncomfortable mattress in his room at his relatives' house.

With nothing else to do, and not willing to go downstairs for dinner to deal with his relatives, he took off his glasses to go to sleep. With darkness growing outside his window, and his mood plummeting close to depression levels, he drifted off to an unsettled sleep.

Outside and across the street from Number 4 Privet Drive stood a man. The few people who were outside didn't notice him, even though they had to step around him on the sidewalk. He was staring intently at the house in front of him, his eyes glinting calculatingly. His fists were clenched and he was biting his lip, a habit he'd been unable to get rid of.

After a moment of eyeing the house searchingly, he nodded his head once, his once stiff posture relaxing slightly.

He turned on his heel and disappeared as silently as he came, with no sign that he'd ever been there in the first place.

First chapter done!

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so reviews are welcome!

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More to follow soon!