Harry groaned in frustration, letting his head fall into his hands. He dug his palms into his eyes until the blackness was decorated with galaxies and stars. He heard Dumbledore stand and walk towards him from the other side of the desk, his hand heavy as it rested on his shoulder. Dumbledore sighed softly and Harry already knew what he was about to say but he just didn't want to hear it right now. He didn't care what was best for him, or what was safer right now. He just spent the last year being shunned and forced to participate in the triwizard tournament, a particularly elaborate attempt to, if not kill him, steal his lifeblood and resurrect the dark lord an act which ended in the death of Cedric Diggory. He wasn't Harry's friend by any means, but he had still died because of Harry. What did this mean for his future? How many more people would die because of him? His train of thought was cut short ad Dumbledore finally spoke.

"It is for your safety, my boy. The blood wards on your house are the strongest protection against Voldemort anybody can offer." he said softly. Harry scoffed. What about what he wanted? Why didn't that matter?

"Sir, I don't want to stay with them. I want to stay with Sirius. He told me, you know. About his house being under the Fildelius charm. There's no way that's not safer than blood wards." Harry said. He could already feel his headache growing. "besides, Privet Drive is not my home. I haven't considered it a home in a long time. You always said it would work as long as I considered it my home, and I'm tired of telling you that I don't!" he was almost yelling by the end of it, getting worked up enough to stand.

Harry sat stiffly, ears burning. He didn't mean to have an outburst. "Sorry." he muttered. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm not meant to be happy. I would be equally safe under fidelius, and I wouldn't be miserable all summer. I fail to see what's so wrong with that."

Dumbledore, who's hand had been resting on the chair after Harry's small outburst, went back to his desk and sat, hands steepled under his chin as he looked pensive. He looked up, his blue eyes piercing Harry's very soul. At least, that's what it felt like to Harry. Dumbledore reached forward and snagged a lemon drop from the small glass bowl on his cluttered desk and leaned back in his chair, still thinking over the situation. Harry was impatient as his head dropped again, the pounding only increasing in his left temple. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't see his side of things, he knew he'd be sent back to that hellhole, and he had a sinking feeling that it would be the longest summer of his life.

"Alright."

Harry's head snapped up, blood rushing in his ears, the roaring matching the pounding in his head. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Dumbledore corrected his posture and sat up straight. "I said alright." he sighed. "However, you must return for one week." he put a hand up as Harry began to protest. "I will monitor the blood wards during that week, and if I find them truly lacking, since you say you do not consider it your home, then you will never have to return."

A grin split its way across Harry's chapped lips and his cheeks ached and he wondered how long it had been since he had truly smiled. Surely it had been a couple of weeks, maybe even a few months since he wasn't forcing a smile to keep everyone happy. "Thank you sir, this is brilliant!" he crowed.

Dumbledore smiled gently and ushered Harry out of his office. It was getting close to curfew, and though he knew Harry would not be punished if he was out later, tomorrow was the day everyone was due to leave the school and return home, and the boy would be needing his rest. "Off you trot, Mr Potter. Tomorrow will be long."

And so Harry left, his spirits lifted slightly at the news that he would be spending most of his summer with his godfather, where he felt he belonged. The smile had long gone from his face, and by the time he got back to Gryffindor tower where Hermione was waiting for him (he presumed Ron had already gone to bed), his thoughts hung like thick black drapes over his mood, and he felt more tired than he had before. He collapsed onto the couch next to her, not feeling like company, but not feeling like being alone and trapped inside his head. Luckily for Harry, Hermione had always been good at reading him, so instead of making him talk, she just sat with him, a hand on his knee as they stared into the dying embers of the fireplace.

The next day felt more hectic than he ever remembered, and he felt more exposed than he ever remembered as it seemed more people were staring, pushing, whispering "there's Potter" and he found himself feeling more and more vulnerable. Hermione and Ron had teamed up to act as his bodyguards, it seemed, as they pushed through the crowd with their trunks behind them, rushing onto the red express train and into a compartment alone. She ended up sitting next to Harry as Ron sprawled out onto the other seat, leaning up against the wall.

"Blimey, they act like they've never seen you before." he grumbled more to himself than anything. Harry just snorted in response, resting his head on his chin. He didn't exactly feel like talking to anyone, not even his best friends. Perhaps the joy of being with Sirius outweighed the horror of spending even a week with the Dursleys, He tried to remain positive, but it was hard to do when his mind kept replaying the events that had happened, when his mind kept telling him that a week would turn into a month, to a year, that he would be stuck in his own personal hell forever as everyone forgot about Harry Potter, the boy who lived to cause trouble. Thankfully his friends left him alone as well as they could, allowing him to drift into a dreamless slumber only awaking a few hours later by Hermione shaking him and telling him they had arrived.

Harry was honestly shocked he had slept the whole time, and that he was void of nightmares. He was also never more thankful for Hermione's idea to put a featherlight charm on the trunks, though he still mentally groaned at the sight of the Dursley's sans trolley, knowing the his Uncle Vernon was just going to make him drag the trunk out behind him. As soon as the family of three spotted Harry, they began walking towards the exit, no doubt dying to get away from the influx of wizards, and he mumbled a quick goodbye to his friends before rushing to catch up. Perhaps he would get lucky and they would just ignore him, he thought on the car ride home. Perhaps this week would fly by without a hitch or angry word from his muggle family, and then they would never see each other again. Hell, he might even mention just that, so they can all get through this week on better terms than they had the past fourteen years of his life.

He mused to himself the entire ride home, and for once didn't protest when his uncle locked his trunk under the stairs, or when he locked Harry himself in his small bedroom, leaving him alone with Hedwig and his thoughts. He laid on his bed the rest of the afternoon, staring blankly out the window, entertaining the thought of this week ever being pleasant. How dare he ever wish for anything pleasant when Cedric would never so much as blink ever again? His heart clenched in pain and he rolled over. He didn't ask for any of this. He didn't want any of this. But this was the life he was forced to live, and Harry James Potter would be absolutely damned if he didn't make Voldemort regret everything he had ever done against him. Every lash of pain Voldemort caused, every drop of blood he spilled would be avenged. Harry grit his teeth in his sudden rush of anger, coldness seeping into his gut. He would die killing that man if it meant no one else would have to die because of him.

He swore on his parents graves, and darkness overtook him once more, luring him into a fitful sleep plagued with screams and flashes of green light.