Harry Potter was sitting on the bed in his small room at number four Privet Drive. The window was wide open, occasionally letting warm wind enter the room. Harry's school books were scattered all around the bedroom floor. His large suitcase was sitting by his bed, not yet emptied. He could hear his Uncle Vernon arguing with his Aunt Petunia downstairs. The topic of discussion, as usual, centered around the disgusting creature that lived in the second bedroom upstairs. Harry Potter.

It was summer break, but unlike most kids, to Harry, this wasn't a welcoming thought. Britain was trying to survive the worst heat wave in a century and Uncle Vernon made sure to make the best of the situation. In other words, Harry's room got absolutely no air conditioning. He had come back to Privet Drive only two days ago, ending his fifth year at Hogwarts, and the Dursleys were doing their best to make him miserable.

But at the moment, the weather was the least troubling thing on Harry's mind. He had more important affairs to deal with. Harry was trying to calm quite a few emotions that were stirring up in the pit of his stomach. Anger, guilt, and fear were the ones that stood out most.

After the torturous events that happened at the Ministry of Magic only a few weeks ago, Harry was expected to come back to Privet Drive and deal with his monstrous muggle relatives? Just the thought of it made his head pound with anger. He didn't deserve another horrifying summer vacation after everything he'd gone through… or maybe he did.

The anger was silenced a bit as the guilt flared to life. He did deserve this punishment. In fact he deserved a far worse punishment. It was his fault that Sirius had died. It was all because of him, and no one could say anything to make him feel better. Dumbledore's words couldn't take away his pain or suffering. And neither Ron's nor Hermione's outlook on the subject mattered. Harry knew the truth. He had been stupid and selfish to drag everyone out to the Ministry and put their lives in danger. It was what Voldemort had wanted from the beginning.

And that's when the thought of Voldemort made Harry shiver, his hand dashing up to the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. Two weeks ago, Harry had found out that the end to the story of the Boy-Who-lived would either end bloody, or very bloody. The day would come when Harry and Voldemort would have to face one another once again. Harry remembered the very words spoken by Sybill Trelawney seventeen years ago:

"Neither Could Live While the other Survived"

But Harry's thoughts were disrupted by a loud rapping at his door, making him jump to his feet. He heard the sound of many locks being jerked open and finally, the door flying forward, bouncing off the wall.

Uncle Vernon stood in the entrance to Harry's bedroom, looking disheveled. Vernon Dursley was bulky to the extent where Harry couldn't see any part of the hall beyond his Uncle's body. His face was always red from stress and he had a walrus mustache. He was looking at Harry murderously.

"Petunia and I have come to the conclusion that this summer will not be like the last. You are not to go wondering around the streets looking for trouble. I won't let you curse Dudley again." Uncle Vernon had a wicked glint in his eye and a smile spread across his face that was rather terrifying. He walked into the room and started pacing. Harry stood rooted to the spot.

"You will wake up, do your chores, and go to sleep." He told Harry, "You will only leave this room when we let you, and there will be no owls in my home." Just when Harry thought that he would pause to take a breath, he rattled on. "You will have absolutely no contact with any of your weirdo friends and if I find out that you have disobeyed any of my rules, you will be kicked out of the house." He warned Harry, then he stopped pacing and put himself right in front of Harry. "Do I make myself clear, Potter?"

Harry took a step back from his Uncle. "Yes, sir" He said, his voice was hoarse from the lack of use. Harry had spent the past forty-eight hours locked in his room. His stomach was grumbling and his whole body hurt.

Uncle Vernon gave him a dirty look and backed away from Harry. He wasn't willing to turn his back on the teenager, afraid that he would take his wand out. It was only when he was at the entrance to the door, when he turned and shut it violently. Harry heard his uncle put all the locks back, and so he went to sit back down on his bed.

His hand watch said that it was 11:47 in the afternoon. Harry would have to wait a few more hours to get his food. Once a day, Aunt Petunia would slip a plate of food in through the newly installed doggy-door. It wasn't the feast he would have liked, but it was something.

Harry didn't have anything to help make time go faster. Hedwig was out getting a snack and she was his only company. He wished so badly now that he could write to Sirius and tell him everything. Sirius was, after all, the only one who could comfort Harry in a time like this. He was the only parent figure that Harry had ever known. But now he was gone. Just like Harry's parents were gone. Harry couldn't help but realize that if not for him, his parents, Sirius, Cedric, and so many other innocent people would still be alive.

He remained in thoughtful misery until sleep finally caught up with him. But it wasn't a peaceful sleep. He hadn't rested peacefully in a long time. These days, all of his naps contained nightmares and restlessness. It was one thing to have to watch Sirius die once. But it was torture having to relive it every night. And it wasn't like Harry had anything to get his mind off of his misery, because he was trapped inside his room all day.

Harry woke to the sound of ruffled wings. He sat bolt upright, looking around. But it was only his snowy-white owl, Hedwig.