Harry lay on his cramped, broken bed in the smallest room in Number 4, Privet Drive. His thoughts ran rampant and uncontrollable in his head and it seemed that nothing he could do could contain them, not even Snape's 'lessons' on Occlumency.
Even the thought of Snape was enough to set Harry on edge again and he jumped from his bed and began to prowl around his cramped room like a caged tiger. Harry glanced at his calendar as he passed it and took note of the day. It was the 15th of July and that made it two weeks since he had returned home to the Dursleys. Just over two weeks it had been since he had seen Sirius fall through the veil and had his mind rent apart by Voldemort in his attempt to possess him.
Two weeks since he found out that the hopes of the entire wizarding world rest on his shoulders and it was his sole responsibility to vanquish the earth of Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard since Grindelwald, who Dumbledore had to defeat himself.
Harry laughed sardonically to himself. Who was he kidding when he imagined himself victorious as the lifeless body of Voldemort lay beneath him? Voldemort had fifty years of knowledge while Harry had five years of sub-par teaching at best. What did Harry have? Love? Love was his secret weapon? Did Dumbledore expect Harry to spike Voldemort with a love potion? The notion that his secret weapon was love was either completely ridiculous or extremely disappointing. Harry hoped desperately for the former.
Harry snatched up a copy of the Daily Prophet which had a picture of him on the front and the caption 'The Chosen One'. The hypocrisy of it all just became too much and Harry suddenly punched out at his wall in frustration as he stalked passed it and pain shot through his right hand and lanced up forearm, causing him to double over in pain.
Suddenly, just like that Harry's anger seemed to vanish as he fell onto the bed and cradled his throbbing, bleeding hand, the paper forgotten on the floor as is frustration was slowly replaced by despair and hopelessness. He didn't know what to do anymore or who to turn to.
In two weeks Harry's world had been flipped on its head and right now the only thing he knew for sure was that if Vernon heard Harry punch the wall in the middle of the night then there would be nothing left for Voldemort to exact revenge on.
Harry laughed to himself at the idea, and in the deepest and darkest corner of his mind he kind of wanted it. Harry imagined the dark irony of it all. Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and vanquisher of the Dark Lord who despised all things muggle, killed by muggles.
Harry laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe and almost forgot about the pain pulsing through his hand every few milliseconds. After a few seconds he stopped and his breathing calmed. It feels good to laugh, Harry thought to himself with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he was going insane and in the end he decided he didn't care.
It had been so long since he had smiled, let alone laughed that it felt like the tiniest bit of the weight had lifted off his shoulders, but it was still something. This is what Sirius would want, Hermione's voice echoed in his head. Upon hearing that he felt an involuntary pang of anguish rack though his body but he would not cry. He had done his crying for his deceased godfather.
Right now the only good thing that seemed to exist in his life was the fact that he would be leaving the loving care of the Dursleys in less than a week, according to Ron's latest letter anyway. Harry must have read it about a thousand times by now. Every few hours he seemed to read it again in case it decided to disappear.
Upon thinking that he looked over to the small stack of letters he had received over the summer, most of them correspondence from Hermione and Ron and a few from Ginny asking how he was and encouraging him to move past Sirius's death.
He couldn't help but feel a flicker of annoyance when he thought about Hermione's letters, all of which seemed to ask if he was alright over and over. While he appreciated the concern from his friend it was always easier from an outside perspective to offer someone grieving a logical view as to why they should let go and 'heal'.
But it never turned out that way. Nobody who had lost someone looked at their passing logically and got over it within days. It took weeks, and for some people, months. It doesn't matter how many people you have lost, it always hurts the same. Mental scars take the longest time to heal, he mimicked the words of Professor Dumbledore in his head yet he could not refute their truth.
Especially for someone in my case, he said to himself in a morbid voice. Here was yet another person that Harry had lost, one of the only parental figures that he had ever known, barring Lupin and Ron's parents. Even worse still, Sirius died because of my foolishness, Harry thought bitterly to himself while clenching his already throbbing hand.
Yes, this loss was in a sense he hardest to take. While Harry missed his parents with all his heart he never had the actual chance to know and love them. For Harry the loss he felt was more the concept of knowing what he could have had and never experiencing it.
But Sirius was a different story. Harry had gotten to know Sirius and spent genuine time with him and he saw that Sirius loved him like a son and that made it all more difficult for him to take.
How long would it be before he had nothing left and nobody left to care for? How long until the world stopped taking things from him and he actually got something back? How long would it be until he was fighting a war that he had no desire to win?
These things ran through Harry's mind again and again making Harry's thoughts an absolute mess. Harry suspected that a light breeze could bypass his already pathetic occlumency shields at the moment. Harry half smiled at the idea, imagining the image of Snape scowling at Harry's less than exemplary progress in the mind arts.
Just as the unpleasant thoughts started to subside the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up and he felt a chill run down his spine. Now Harry didn't consider himself a fortune teller or anything, nothing like that. His skill for Divination backed up that point quite nicely. But years of being beat up and being in constant danger had taught him to always trust his instincts as he seemed to have a knack for being right.
Because of this Harry immediately had his holly and phoenix feather wand in his hand, not without a wince of pain as his damaged hand protested, as he bolted to the window and peered out into the darkness. Most of the outside was covered in darkness except for the faint glow from the streetlamps on the sidewalk.
And under the light of one of the streetlamps was where he saw it. What he saw exactly he wasn't sure but he saw something, some sort of distortion or maybe a trick of the light but his gut told him no, this was something real and potentially dangerous.
Harry backed away from the window slightly as he went through possibilities in his head. Maybe it was just one of the Order on guard, he reasoned with himself but regardless he felt his heart beating rapidly and the adrenaline begin to pump through his body as if in preparation for a fight.
Fuck it, he thought and ran to the loose floorboard in his room and grabbed the rucksack from beside his bead. As fast as his hands would allow he pulled out his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, the broken shard of the two-way mirror that Sirius gave him and his Firebolt, a gift also from his late godfather. His right hand was throbbing but he couldn't care less. Pain he could recover from but death he could not.
Quick as he could he shoved these things into his bag, debating for a split second before shrinking his Firebolt. If something is going on here I'll take the fucking underage magic trial, he thought to himself with a grim smile.
He was just debating whether or not he should bring his advanced duelling books that Sirius had also given him when many things happened at once.
Harry felt a surge of energy throughout the house followed by a sound that could only be described as the shattering of glass. Almost instantly after that there was a stretching sound that seemed as if the house was being place under a gigantic bubble.
At the same time as this was happening Harry heard a voice shouting, "Harry the Death Eaters ar-" only to see a green flash cutting off all sound. Harry recognised the voice of Mundungus Fletcher and suddenly the gravity of the situation that he found himself in began to dawn on him.
Harry was frozen still in time, still processing what was happening. Subconsciously he gave himself ten seconds before all hell broke loose. Ten seconds before he would have to fight for his life once more.
Three seconds. Harry rose and sprinted out of his room and made it to Vernon and Petunia's bedroom, kicking in the door and shouting, "Death Eaters, get out now!" Vernon shouted and rolled out of the bed and fell in a heap on the floor while Petunia just shot up in the bed and screeched. The whole scene would have been comical if not for the seriousness of the situation.
Seven seconds. Harry turned and sprinted down the hall, past the bathroom and his own room before reaching Dudley's room and barging in, shouting at him at the top of his lungs to get out of bed.
Ten seconds. Dudley managed to open his eyes and peer angrily at Harry at being woken up, his glare promising a beating for this. Harry noticed Dudley begin to rise when he saw a flash of red from outside rocket towards the house.
"NO!" he shouted in a frantic voice as the red beam connected with the wall below Dudley's window and the wall, along with shards of glass, exploded inwards. The force of the spell combined with the debris of concrete sent Harry flying back through the door from where he came from and he collided with the wall in the landing with a sickening crunch.
Harry felt blood trickle down the back of his head and onto his neck as he recovered from the explosion. He took a breath and cried out in agony as pain seared across his chest. He looked down to find parts of his shirt ripped and bloodied from two deep gouges.
Harry managed to stagger upwards with the help of the wall when he heard an explosion of wood and looked down to see two cloaked figures enter through the now door-less front door. Harry pointed his wand and sent a stunner in their general direction, hitting one of them to his own surprise.
However, his triumph was short lived as he noticed the twisting, malevolent red beam of the torture cursehurtling towards him and he dodged just in time as the curse connected with the wall behind him, showering him with more debris.
Harry, angered by the use of the unforgivable, replied with a cutting curse followed by a powerful stunner. Harry's stunner connected but not before the hooded figure was able to send a bone-breaker at Harry, connecting with his left arm and snapping it with a sickening crack.
Harry, already with a badly damaged right hand had now a broken left arm for good measure too. With a wince Harry tucked his left arm against his now freely bleeding chest and placed a sticking charm on it to keep in out of the way.
As Harry was doing this he failed to notice the Death Eater who followed in his fallen comrades and fired a banishing charm at Harry, catching him in the side and sending him careening down the hallway, landing on his back with a thump.
Just then Vernon decided to make an appearance, huffing out of his room with his face a picture of pure rage. "What in the bloody hell is going on out here?" he roared at the top of his lungs before noticing the bloodied form of Harry struggling to rise.
Just at that moment the Death Eater who had banished Harry down the hall reached the top of the stairs and let loose an ominous looking orange spell which Harry didn't recognise and he watched in slow motion as it connected with Vernon and he dropped to the floor with a scream, deep lacerations appearing all over his body.
Petunia screamed while Harry tore his eyes away from the horrible scene and fired a powerful cutting curse at the Death Eater, which smashed against his shield. Harry followed it with Stupefy and then another powerful Reducto.
The Death Eater had to dodge the last spell and this gave Harry his opening, rising to his feet and running towards Petunia's and Vernon's room, pulling a hysterical Petunia with him. Just as Harry was almost through a piercing curse caught him in the calf, cutting through skin, muscle and bone in a small hole, almost like a bullet would.
Harry cried out in pain but managed to make it to the bed where he threw Petunia and screamed, "Behind the bed, now!"
"Where are you going," she asked him in a frantic and pained voice, tears streaming down her face.
"Getting Dudley," Harry grunted through gritted teeth, the pain now starting to settle in along with a healthy dose of fear and panic. The only thing keeping him upright was adrenaline and his own stubbornness when it came to survival.
Harry took a deep breath before running out into the hallway again, leaping over Vernon's prone body and ignoring the searing pain in his leg, firing off a barrage of spells, Reducto, Stupefy, Pertrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus, all in quick succession.
The Death Eater recovered from his momentary shock and dodged the first spell and letting the other three fizzle out against his shield before retaliating, firing off two spells which Harry didn't even recognise.
Realising he was in no shape to dodge Harry conjured a strong shield and braced himself as the two of the spells connected, the second spell shattering Harry's shield and throwing him back against the wall.
Harry recovered instantly though and fired a Stupefy and a Reducto within milliseconds of each other. The Death Eater, caught by surprise, dodged the stunner but moved to the left in order to do so, straight into the path of the Reducto.
Harry watched in morbid fascination as the spell collided with the Death Eaters head and the head that was underneath the hood exploded in a spray of crimson. Harry fought back the bile that threatened to surge up his throat and moved on towards Dudley's room.
Harry managed to somehow make his way there and stumbled in, leaning onto the doorframe as he did so but the sight that greeted him made him want to get sick all over again. The mangled upper body of Dudley lay sprawled out on his bed, his lower half still under the sheets from when Harry woke him. His face wasn't even distinguishable anymore; a red lump of pulverised meat was all that looked back at Harry.
It was at that moment that a brown, official looking owl swooped through Dudley's window and dropped a letter off at Harry's feet. Harry looked down and noticed the Ministry's seal on the letter and realised they must be expelling him for using magic. If the situation was not so dire he would have laughed. Harry burnt the letter with a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation before it could deliver its message.
Harry closed his eyes and turned away as another explosion shook the house, this one from downstairs. Harry turned and limped frantically away and back to Petunia when the wall just behind him exploded inwards, bits of debris cutting into Harry's back and making him wince.
Another few agonising steps on and the walls behind him blew out again as spells rained down on the house. Harry was five feet from where Petunia hid behind the bed when the room exploded and cursed fire began to devour the room, along with that whole corner of the house.
Harry watched, fixated with horror as demonic beasts burnt through everything in its path as the floor behind Harry began to explode upwards, spells raining upwards from down below. This is it, he thought desperately. No getting out of this one.
Harry looked around him, desperately searching for a way out. One of the lenses of his glasses had cracked, making eyesight only possible through one eye.
Harry turned and noticed that only his room seemed to be untouched from the destruction around him. A plan began to formulate in his mind. It was crazy and probably certain death. Surely there were Death Eaters waiting out front for him, right?
Then again, hadn't he and his friends escaped a dozen or so of Voldemort's most trusted followers? Just do it, Potter, Harry thought to himself. What's out there is unknown but if you stay here either that fire or the Death Eaters will kill you.
Strengthened by that reasoning, Harry summoned up the last of his courage and his energy and turned away from the fire, the flames licking at his heels, and ran towards his room. Every step was agony as he barged into his room and raised his wand, shouting, "REDUCTO."
His window, along with half the wall and the metal bars on it exploded outwards onto the front lawn. Harry stood up and grabbed his rucksack which he had forgotten in the madness. Harry took a second and said a silent prayer before he ran towards the hole in the wall lunged out onto the lawn following the debris down onto the lawn.
