Harry slowly opened his eyes and groaned. His head was killing him, his ribs hurt, and it was excruciatingly difficult to breathe. While Harry was processing the damage, he noticed that something was wrong. Harry's head hurt too much to pursue the problem so he let his mind drift.
An unknown amount of time later Harry found himself wrenched into consciousness. "Freak, get your butt down here and cook dinner!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice was enough to wake the dead and apparently completely comatose boys too.
"Coming!" Harry's voice was hoarse from the damage that had been done during Vernon's recent attempt to kill him. Harry knew that he needed medical attention but he also knew that he would only make things worse by asking for it. Taking a deep breath, well as deep of a breath as he could manage with a broken rib, Harry gingerly rose to his feet. The room swam in front of his eyes. Harry was so used to the feeling that he knew to stand still and wait it out. When things fell into their rightful place, Harry straightened his glasses with a sigh of relief. He had been worried that he would black out again.
"Freak! Stop dawdling and start dinner. Now!" Petunia's voice seemed closer this time and Harry knew that if she had to walk up the stairs to get him he would not be able to have his daily piece of bread. With the thought of food, no matter how miniscule, Harry surged forward with a little more strength and quite a bit more determination.
The stairs posed a threat though, instead of looking like they normally did, they looked like a steep slope of a mountain and Harry did not have any climbing equipment. Harry felt pathetic. He couldn't even walk down a set of stairs and yet he was supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world?
Movement at the bottom of the stairs scared Harry into action. 'One step at a time, one step at a time.' Harry thought the mantra repeatedly in his mind until he reached the bottom. 'Good job Harry; you showed those steps.' Harry thought bitterly to himself. 'Now to make dinner, great.'
Harry gingerly and silently entered the kitchen, Harry had perfected the art of moving silently by the time he was five and almost ten years later, he was grateful for the skill. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon detested any sound he made.
The kitchen was spotless as ever, thanks to Harry's diligent cleaning, the stainless steel fridge shone brightly in the fluorescent lighting, mocking Harry. As Harry limped towards the fridge he wanted to turn away, his concussion, while bad enough on its own, was turning into a migraine as the shiny fridge shone like a beacon.
While making dinner Harry's mind wandered. It wandered over his past year at Hogwarts, the Triwizard tournament, Cedric Diggory, Voldemort, the twins, Ron and Hermione, and lastly on the vague feeling of forgetting something. Harry knew that if he let the subject drop he would most likely remember, but making dinner was making him nauseous and he sorely needed a distraction.
By the time Harry had served dinner, eaten his piece of bread, cleared the table, washed the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen, he still had no clue as to what he may be forgetting. Taking one last look around the kitchen Harry nodded in satisfaction. Everything was in proper order.
The second Harry stepped out of the kitchen it seemed as if someone stabbed him in the side. However, as Harry covered his side in pain he realized that it was only the adrenaline wearing off. Without the distraction of having to do everything right Harry's body was making itself known. 'Bloody Vernon, why can't he just leave me and Hedwig to live in peace... Hedwig!' Harry suddenly realized what had been wrong when he had woken up. Usually Hedwig would perch beside him giving him comfort as he awoke but Hedwig was not there today.
Harry burst into a hobbling run and hopped up the stairs two at a time. When he reached his bedroom Harry stopped to catch his breath. Slowly he pushed the door open with the palm of his hand; the first thing Harry noticed was Hedwig's empty cage. Ever optimistic, but still dreading, Harry walked further into the room. There. Near the window, feathers littered the ground. Hoping against hope Harry looked out the window to the tree beyond. After searching every branch and finding nothing, Harry looked down. His beautiful Hedwig was lying splayed out on the ground. It was obvious she was dead by the unearthly stillness in which she lay.
"No! God no. Hedwig. Oh Hedwig. WHY!" Harry knew he did not have any tears left in him after all that had happened to him, but he still felt the urge to cry.
Harry was so caught up in his grief that he didn't notice Uncle Vernon stomp into his room. "What is all this infernal racket about, Freak?" Vernon did not care about receiving an answer, no matter what Harry said it would be useless. Harry kept his mouth shut. Uncle Vernon clouted him across the temple and everything went black for the second time that day.
When Harry surfaced from the pit of unconsciousness that he had been thrown into he was mad. Harry had heard the old saying, warning of the danger of waking up mad but he ignored it.
Harry dashed around grabbing everything he owned and throwing it into his trunk. He didn't care that it was past midnight and he might be making a racket, he wanted out. When Harry thought he had everything in his trunk he realized that it was raining, more like pouring outside. 'What else could go wrong? Bloody Hell!' Harry changed his mind; he would come back for the rest of his stuff later. Searching through his hand-me-downs from Dudley, Harry found a backpack and a raincoat.
Harry put his wand, invisibility cloak, and a change of clothes in the bag. He was hoping to sneak back and grab the rest of his stuff once he had found a place to stay. Taking precaution, Harry also put a few Galleons in his bag. As Harry put on the raincoat he looked out the window, thinking of Hedwig made him realize that he had no way of contacting the wizarding world.
Quickly, not wanting to spend much more time in the house, Harry searched for some blank parchment and a quill.
Dear Erol,
I have left the Dursley's house to wander on my own. Please find me, as I cannot contact the Weasley's. Hedwig has… died.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Finding the letter satisfactory, Harry taped it to the window facing out wards. 'Good.'
One last task had to be done before he could leave the Dursley's property. It was a grim task but Harry couldn't leave Hedwig out in the open to rot.
Harry sneaked out of the house courtesy of the back door in the kitchen. Since Harry spent so much time in the kitchen, he had made it his duty to ensure that the back door opened without a sound for those rare occasions where he might be called away by Ron. Unfortunately, this was not a fun adventure, but he was thankful for his fore sight.
Hedwig looked even worse up close and soaking wet but Harry held strong and buried his friend under the tree in the backyard. It was hard work, digging in the rain with a small gardening spade, but not more than a half hour later, Hedwig was covered. "Goodbye Hedwig. I'll miss you, you were a great friend and owl. Rest in peace." Harry wiped his running nose with the back of his sleeve and stood. He looked defeated as he walked out of the yard with his head bowed.
Authors Note: In my story, the night bus does not exist.