The bedroom was in disarray. An outsider might have been quite appalled to
learn that someone lived there. Dirty jeans and tee shirts that hadn't
been washed in weeks were strewn about the floor; robes covered his desk.
Hedwig stayed in her cage most of the time, going out at night
occasionally, for short periods of time. Harry had yet to write a letter
to anyone in the magic community over the 6 weeks since school had
released, despite repeated letters from Ron and Hermione. He didn't avoid
replying because he was angry at them, as he had been last summer, but
because grief had taken him over. He tried to act himself, to act
normally. Every day was the same: he would wake, eat a bit of food:
usually a half of a whole-grain muffin, whatever 'Diddikins' diet asked,
and go to his room again, where he would lie on his bed. He tried to work
on his summer assignments, it wasn't going to well, he couldn't focus.
Attempted letters to his friends lay scattered about the floor, none
completed, all tear-stained. He was too embarrassed to send them, a real
man doesn't cry. Harry's bedroom was his refuge, he could be alone, and
when he was alone, he mostly tried to work out his thoughts about Sirius.
Harry replayed Sirius' last moments, his frustration at being cooped up in Grimmauld Place, his desire to save his godson, his bravery when battling his cousin. A surge of hatred came forth in Harry's mind, he hated Bellatrix Lestrange more than anyone in the world. Since that day, a burning desire to kill her had loomed over Harry. He often imagined the day when he could battle with her. he wanted some sort of payback. He wanted justice; he wanted to justify Sirius' death. Harry doubted that could ever happen in his mind.
Frequently, Harry thought about how he would never see Sirius again. Never again could he call upon him when he didn't know where to turn, never again could he ask him questions about his dad. Harry felt a true orphan now, as he had before he had found Sirius. Sirius had made him feel as if he had a father, a family. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley didn't come close.
And so the days passed like this, without anything eventful happening at number four, Privet Drive.
But outside, in the magical world, things were happening. Voldemort had made what some might call his glorious comeback; others, the start of a battle that many thought had already been won.
There was now an official death tally, Harry had read in The Daily Prophet, which was now somewhat reliable. It was delivered daily, but Harry read it somewhat infrequently. On some days, he wanted something to do, to keep himself occupied, and he would read the paper, or his quidditch books. Others, he felt as if the world had stopped turning, and he lied in bed all day long, simply thinking.
Voldemort's return was now believed widely, and Harry's generation had their first taste of what it had been like 15 years ago. Harry could be thankful though, that the prophecy had not been made public. It would have created a frenzy. Harry would be adored, pressured, loved, a legend once more if the wizarding community was to hear the prophecy. Only two people knew of this prophecy; those two were Dumbledore and Harry.
After 2 more weeks of Dark Marks and deaths in the wizarding world and mourning in Harry's bedroom, the Hogwarts owl arrived. It was quite of a relief to Harry; he wished to see Ron and Hermione, he wished to take his mind off of Sirius.
And so, Harry decided to write Ron to see if he could come to the Burrow for the week preceding the start of school. He wasn't sure how else to get his supplies; and knew the Weasleys would gladly welcome him in their home. in fact, Ron had invited him several times in letters.
"RON,
Sorry I've not written, been really busy, you know,"
Harry took a sharp intake of breath at the lie that Ron would see through clearly.
"Right, then, I was wondering if I could stay with you until we go to school? I've about had enough with the Dursleys',"
wrote Harry, as if Ron had never asked.
"Well, send a reply owl as soon as you can. perhaps I can travel by Floo powder?
Thanks, Harry"
It was a terrible letter. It was short, to the point, and, Harry had to admit, a bit discourteous. But it was a start, and it would get Harry where he belong.
And so it was that the very next evening Harry arrived at the Burrow. He felt more at home there than he ever had at the Dursley's home, and even allowed Mrs. Weasley to hug and kiss him.
Ron and he saw each other, and for a moment were a bit shy with one another.
Harry spoke first.
"Sorry I didn't return your letters, mate."
"It's been a bit of a poor vacation."
Ron nodded knowingly.
"And you didn't have to live with Fred and George!" he said, smiling. Harry grinned, and brought Ron into a hug. The hug lasted a second or two, and then they pulled apart, because Harry had noticed someone else.
"Hermione!" he cried, and rushed over to hug her.
"Really sorry about the whole letters thing," he whispered to her.
"It's quite alright," Hermione said, choking back tears.
Hermione hugged him for a good ten seconds before she let him go, drying her eyes.
"You've had a rough summer."
Harry replayed Sirius' last moments, his frustration at being cooped up in Grimmauld Place, his desire to save his godson, his bravery when battling his cousin. A surge of hatred came forth in Harry's mind, he hated Bellatrix Lestrange more than anyone in the world. Since that day, a burning desire to kill her had loomed over Harry. He often imagined the day when he could battle with her. he wanted some sort of payback. He wanted justice; he wanted to justify Sirius' death. Harry doubted that could ever happen in his mind.
Frequently, Harry thought about how he would never see Sirius again. Never again could he call upon him when he didn't know where to turn, never again could he ask him questions about his dad. Harry felt a true orphan now, as he had before he had found Sirius. Sirius had made him feel as if he had a father, a family. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley didn't come close.
And so the days passed like this, without anything eventful happening at number four, Privet Drive.
But outside, in the magical world, things were happening. Voldemort had made what some might call his glorious comeback; others, the start of a battle that many thought had already been won.
There was now an official death tally, Harry had read in The Daily Prophet, which was now somewhat reliable. It was delivered daily, but Harry read it somewhat infrequently. On some days, he wanted something to do, to keep himself occupied, and he would read the paper, or his quidditch books. Others, he felt as if the world had stopped turning, and he lied in bed all day long, simply thinking.
Voldemort's return was now believed widely, and Harry's generation had their first taste of what it had been like 15 years ago. Harry could be thankful though, that the prophecy had not been made public. It would have created a frenzy. Harry would be adored, pressured, loved, a legend once more if the wizarding community was to hear the prophecy. Only two people knew of this prophecy; those two were Dumbledore and Harry.
After 2 more weeks of Dark Marks and deaths in the wizarding world and mourning in Harry's bedroom, the Hogwarts owl arrived. It was quite of a relief to Harry; he wished to see Ron and Hermione, he wished to take his mind off of Sirius.
And so, Harry decided to write Ron to see if he could come to the Burrow for the week preceding the start of school. He wasn't sure how else to get his supplies; and knew the Weasleys would gladly welcome him in their home. in fact, Ron had invited him several times in letters.
"RON,
Sorry I've not written, been really busy, you know,"
Harry took a sharp intake of breath at the lie that Ron would see through clearly.
"Right, then, I was wondering if I could stay with you until we go to school? I've about had enough with the Dursleys',"
wrote Harry, as if Ron had never asked.
"Well, send a reply owl as soon as you can. perhaps I can travel by Floo powder?
Thanks, Harry"
It was a terrible letter. It was short, to the point, and, Harry had to admit, a bit discourteous. But it was a start, and it would get Harry where he belong.
And so it was that the very next evening Harry arrived at the Burrow. He felt more at home there than he ever had at the Dursley's home, and even allowed Mrs. Weasley to hug and kiss him.
Ron and he saw each other, and for a moment were a bit shy with one another.
Harry spoke first.
"Sorry I didn't return your letters, mate."
"It's been a bit of a poor vacation."
Ron nodded knowingly.
"And you didn't have to live with Fred and George!" he said, smiling. Harry grinned, and brought Ron into a hug. The hug lasted a second or two, and then they pulled apart, because Harry had noticed someone else.
"Hermione!" he cried, and rushed over to hug her.
"Really sorry about the whole letters thing," he whispered to her.
"It's quite alright," Hermione said, choking back tears.
Hermione hugged him for a good ten seconds before she let him go, drying her eyes.
"You've had a rough summer."