Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. It all belongs to the Queen of Literature, J. K. Rowling. She is amazing!
Author's Note: I made a few changes to canon but they are quite little. You can find them at the bottom of the story. I really hope you enjoy the story! This is a sequel to A Loss So Great, Nothing Could Hurt Worse but it doesn't follow directly so you don't have to read it. It just provides a little more backstory and some tears.
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Harry woke up sweating, and his eyes were welling with tears. He had just relived Sirius's death once again, just as he had every night since the incident.
He was back at the Dursley's for the summer, but he had recently received a letter from Professor Dumbledore, saying he would come down to take him to the Burrow. He would not come for a few days, however, which meant that Harry had to endure still another torturous week at the Dursley's.
Harry, silently shaking with renewed grief, glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was 6 in the morning. He would normally sleep until 7, which is when Aunt Petunia would pound on his door, ordering him to make the Dursleys their breakfast. However, since he was awake, he tried to read his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks. It was his favorite subject and the one he most excelled at, but as he tried to read the book however, unwanted sleep captured him once again.
He was standing alone on the plinth, upon which was the veil. As he watched it flutter, the scene changed. He was now fighting along side Sirius, next to the veil. Harry and Sirius were dueling against Lucius Malfoy when, all of a sudden, a jet of bright green light, that looked very to familiar to Harry, hit Sirius across the chest. He fell through the veil, slowly as if time itself was slowing, and as Harry heard Bellatrix's taunting laughs ringing in his head, he awoke.
He heard Aunt Petunia pounding at the door, yelling at him to come make breakfast. "I'm coming!" he yelled angrily. As he changed out of his pajamas and walked downstairs, trying to clear his head of the memory he had revisited, he heard Uncle Vernon talking.
"Well Petunia, there's no need to fret anymore. The paper says here that the murderer, the one that escaped that loony bin a year or so ago, has been reported dead. Don't say how, but he's dead."
"Oh, yes. What was his name?"
"Serious Black. Strange name, if you ask me."
Walking towards the kitchen, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "Move along, boy! I haven't got all day, y'know!" Vernon yelled to him from the breakfast table, where the three Dursleys were now sitting. Harry's eyes welled up, once again, and the whole time he was making breakfast, he was barely able to keep from crying upon the scrambled eggs. As he brought breakfast to his "family", he sat down quickly, averting his gaze, and shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as quickly as he could. He was eager to scramble back to his room, away from the evil glares of the Dursleys, but Uncle Vernon noticed something amiss, and spoke. "What's with you, boy? Are your little friends not talking to you?"
"None of your business," Harry spat. His friends had, in fact, sent him plenty of letters, but Harry was so depressed that he only sent back small notes in return.
"Don't ya talk back to me, mister!"
"I'm. Sorry. Uncle. Vernon." Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Better." Vernon then went on a rant about children respecting their elders. Harry smirked slightly, thinking that the only creature that should respect the Dursleys would be a dying mosquito.
When Harry stood up in order to take the plates from the table, Dudley noticed Harry's slightly reddened eyes and looked at him with evil grin.
"Been crying, Potter?"
"Shove off," Harry said threateningly.
"Oooh! A little touchy, eh, Potter?" Dudley sniggered.
"I said shut up!" yelled Harry, as the plate he was carrying flew from his hand and hit the wall across from him. The other plates on the table rose up and also crashed against the wall. He was breathing heavily and felt livid with hatred for the Dursleys. He stood for a moment, looking at their shocked faces, then ran upstairs. He slammed the door and then sat down on the bed, seething. As he calmed down, he heard his uncle swearing, then finally leave for work, and "Ikkle Diddikins" leave for school. There were many days like this when only him and his aunt were at home. She cleaned, and ordered him around to do dozens of odd jobs around the house. When he had calmed down, he went back downstairs in order to begin his routine of boredom and chores.
During the entire day, he was dreading Uncle Vernon returning from work and Dudley returning from school. He kept his eye on the clock, doing everything Aunt Petunia asked of him in record time, yet she still found things for him to do. As he was dusting Aunt Petunia's vase collection in the dining room, he heard the screech of tires in the driveway, and knew that Uncle Vernon must be home from work. He tried to dust the remaining vases as hastily as possible but could not finish in time. He heard the front door swing open and Uncle Vernon stomp through the entryway.
"Hey, boy. Done crying?" Uncle Vernon cackled savagely.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," replied Harry, seething more than ever.
"Good and I must say, I am intrigued by it. I don't believe I've ever seen you cry." Vernon remarked. "Tell me why," he continued, grinning like Christmas had come early.
"My apologies, Uncle Vernon. I believe I should keep it to myself." Harry felt his blood boil.
Since when do the Dursleys care about the reasons I cried or get angry? Harry thought.
"Tell me, boy, or I will beat it out of you." Other people may have believed that Uncle Vernon wasn't serious, but he was. Deadly serious. Harry, who had been on the receiving end of Uncle Vernon's beating on many occasions, was now a little nervous, but decided he would rather get beaten than tell his uncle, aunt, and cousin about Sirius.
"No."
"Excuse me?" asked Vernon, slightly taken aback.
"I will not tell you," Harry said calmly.
"Alright, then." Uncle Vernon strode closer to him, dropping his work bag as he went and undoing his belt. Harry looked straight into his uncle's beady eyes, showing no signs of nervousness or fear. Vernon grabbed a handful or Harry's shirt and held his belt threateningly.
"Harry?" A familiar voice reached Harry's ears from the front door. The only reason Uncle Vernon released him was because of Harry's sudden smile at the voice.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Uncle Vernon spat at the man.
"Harry, are you okay?" said the man, approaching his best friend's son quickly.
"Remus! Yes, I - I'm fine. What are you do-" Harry was cut short by Professor Lupin hugging him quickly.
"I - I just wanted to - to see how you were," Professor Lupin replied shakily. He looked at Harry for another second, then turned on Uncle Vernon.
"What were you planning to do to Harry?"
"That is none of your business!" Uncle Vernon said angrily. "And who are you, coming into my house without invitation and interrupting my - er - plans."
"It is my business. I came to visit Harry and to see how he was recovering!" Professor Lupin roared back at him.
"Recovering from what?" Uncle Vernon spat.
"FROM THE DEATH OF HIS GODFATHER!" Professor Lupin yelled furiously. Uncle Vernon was in shock and slowly backed away in fright into the kitchen.
"Harry, are you –" Remus began, but then he was cut off by a hug from Harry.
"I'm so glad you're here," Harry said. "I've been so depressed. They don't understand anything about our world, and they would never want to hear anything about it. I don't know what to do."
"Oh, Harry," said Remus consolingly. He took Harry by the arm and pulled him over to the couch where they sat down. "Why don't you tell Ron and Hermione?"
"They would never understand. They've never lost their parents or - or friends or their godfather," Harry said, his voice breaking.
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit sooner. I wanted to, but –" Remus broke off. No excuse would be good enough for Harry. "I'm sorry," he finished.
"It's okay," Harry said bracingly, sniffing slightly.
"No. No, it's not," replied Remus.
"Well, you're here now, aren't you?" Harry said, with a small smile.
"Yeah, I am."
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Author's Note II: Hey ya'll. I hope you liked this! I know it says that Harry didn't say anything to the Dursleys about Sirius but I needed to change things up a little bit to fit my story. Also, in the Half-Blood Prince, it explains that Dumbledore's letter came three days before the pickup date, but like the Sirius issue, I had to switch certain things up. My sincerest apologies, if this inconveniences you in any way.
Please review as it really helps spur me on to more stories and writing.