Guilty, the only word to describe his feelings. It was his fault that Sirius died. No matter that Bellatrix said the curse, or Voldemort tricked him into going. No logical explanation passed through his head. Only that his godfather was dead and it was his fault.
Harry had no concept of time that passed him. He never ate, never slept, never moved, for the four days he was home. He stared, at the wall in Dudley's second bedroom. He never considered it his own. The only thing that was ever his own, was now dead: his godfather.
Another passing thought through his head was the prophecy. Neither can live while the other survives. It changes a man when he realizes his life has been decided for him. Kill or be killed, murder or be murdered. And with these thoughts Harry realized something, he had no idea how to fight. He needed more than learning how to change a porcupine into a pin cushion, and how to cast a tickling charm. He needed so much more than what Hogwarts had to offer.
Just like that Harry Potter came to a realization, he needed to leave and train. He blinked out of his day dreams and came up with a plan. First he realized just how hungry he was. It was the middle of the night, so he quietly slipped down stairs and raided the fridge to eat and then pulling things out to pack for himself. He picked the lock into the cupboard under the stairs like the Weasley twins taught him and he grabbed his trunk. He sent Hedwig off to the Weasley's house with a note saying that his uncle was getting angry with her and asking if she could stay. Finally, he showered and changed into Dudley's grossly oversized clothes and put an old baseball cap on. Just as dawn was starting to peak Harry left the house under his invisibility cloak lugging his trunk behind him. Walking 6 blocks away from the house he called for the night bus.
That was time Privet drive ever saw him.