The sky was bleak and grey with the promise of rain in the air. Few people traversed the sidewalks of Privet Drive this day, preferring to stay home away from the unnatural coolness. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the neatly trimmed hedges of Number 4 and bounded off the lace curtain-covered windows to the living room. Inside a round boy sat with his father watching the television while a peaky woman with a tad too much neck scrubbed at the spotless kitchen, sweat gracing her brow as she worked at an invisible stain. It looked like a perfect, though perhaps too uptight family. However, had one bothered to look upstairs, behind the door of the smallest bedroom, they would have realized that not everything was as it should be.

Harry Potter lay on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling while tears ran down his cheek. He was thin, even by his standards, and pale, suggesting malnutrition and a lack of sleep. His emerald eyes were blood shot, swollen, and dead. What life the boy had had at one point was gone, taken away. While appearing calm on the outside, inside he was a storm of turmoil. Not two weeks ago, Harry watched as his godfather, the closest thing he had to a family, fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He now struggled between extreme guilt and hopeless sorrow. He could not stop thinking how he was the reason Sirius died, how he should have known that Voldemort was tricking him, how he could have stopped Bellatrix. He could have tried harder to contact him, he could have… he could have saved him. Harry flipped over and pounded his fist into his pillow repeatedly as sobs shook his body. It was all his fault!

A tap came at the window, pulling him temporarily away form his mourning. Outside his snowy owl, Hedwig, fluttered outside demanding entrance. He picked himself up off the bed and opened the window for her. The owl swooped over his bed, dropping several letters on it, before nestling into her cage with her head tucked beneath a wing. Harry left the window open, appreciating the cold breeze and dark sky that matched his mood, and went back to sift through the post. There was a letter from Hermione and Ron as well as from Hagrid and Dumbledore. He eyed the emerald green script distastefully before tossing it in the rubbish bin. Although he no longer blamed Dumbledore for Sirius's death, he just did not want to hear from the headmaster. He read the other three letters, though in all honesty it was a waste of time as they said basically the same thing. They all hoped he was getting along all right, that the Dursleys were not treating him terribly and that they would see him soon. A pain stabbed at his broken heart. He missed them.

"Boy, dinner!" Uncle Vernon yelled up at him uncaringly. Harry thought to ignore him, but his stomach protested the denial of food, so Harry regrettably made his way downstairs. He took his usual seat at the table and no one acknowledged his existence. Around him, meaningless conversation was exchanged formally. As he poked at his fish, Harry remembered happier mealtimes than the one he now sat at. There was Hogwarts, with its hall full of students, bright chatter and laughter tossed about in a haze of confusion. There was dinner with the Weasleys where everyone crowded into the small kitchen or out into the summer night to eat Mrs. Weasley's exceptional cooking while jesting, joking, and discussing the latest news, whether it be cauldron bottoms or Quidditch. More recently, there had been Grimmauld Place. Perhaps it was not the most cheerful of times, what with the grim décor and occasional presence of Snape, but it was still special to him. Everyone would gather about, to socialize and relax. Tonks would entertain Hermione and Ginny by morphing her appearance, Harry and the multitude of Weasley brothers would discuss Fred and George's latest product or guess what had happened in that day's Order meeting. Afterwards, a bottle of Firewhiskey might be brought out and eventually Lupin and Sirius would start reminiscing about the days of the Marauders, sometimes at Snape's expense.

The fork fell from his hand with a loud clank. The other three members stopped suddenly and turned to stare at Harry. The boy just sat there staring off into space, a tear streaking down his left cheek.

"Boy?" Vernon asked hesitantly. He had never seen Harry show this kind of emotion, and the intensity of his grief poured off him in waves; he was unsure how to handle this situation.

"Harry, are you alright?" Petunia questioned, shaking his shoulder gently.

"I can't-" he gasped and ran from the table. The three stared at Harry's upturned chair in amazement.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Vernon asked his wife. She shook her head, her gaze following her nephew up the stairs. Although she was not particularly fond of the boy, part of her felt the need to comfort him. The hollow look in his eyes chilled her to the very core of her being.

"I'm going to go talk to him," Petunia excused herself and followed her distressed nephew.

Back in his room, Harry curled up in a ball on his floor, his knees hugged to his chest. He did not cry or scream, but just rocked slowly back and forth. He felt so alone. He did not belong here. These people did not want him here and did not care about him. He starved for the love and acceptance of his friends, of Sirius. He wanted so much to see the man, to hear his barking laughter and see the mischief in his dark eyes, to feel him hold him as he had before Harry left for Hogwarts at Christmas. He needed to hear someone say it was okay, that everything was going to be all right, that it was not his fault, but he could not get that here. He needed to leave, to get back to the familiar. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," he called while bracing himself for a scolding. Surely, they were going to tell him off for being so rude and disruptive or something. The door opened to reveal Aunt Petunia. She appeared surprised at his position, but did not say anything immediately. Harry uncurled himself, wanting to appear stronger for his punishment, and picked himself up to face her stonily. "Yes?"

"Sit down Harry," she commanded. He followed her direction and sat down on the edge of his bed. She shut the door and came to sit down next to him. He saw her glance over the room once and eye Hedwig with disapproval, but still she said nothing about it. "What's wrong?" Harry was taken aback by the question. Never before had she asked him that question and actually sounded like she cared. Her voice was gentle and her eyes held concern usually reserved for Dudley.

"N-nothing, I-I'm fine," he stammered. She gave him that piercing stare that had a way of penetrating his soul. He was vaguely reminded of Dumbledore and almost smiled at the comparison. "Nothing you'd be worried about," he responded quietly.

"As your guardian I have a right to know what is bothering you so badly," she told him firmly.

"I… I don't want to talk about it," he responded, moving back to lean against the wall so he could curl up again. However, Petunia refused to leave. She recognized that stubbornness as his mother's, but she was Lily's older sister and could be even more so if necessary. He was going to talk whether he liked it or not.

"Did something happen at school?" she pressed, mentally grimacing at the reference to his abnormality.

"No more than any other year," he bit back. Petunia was shocked by the harshness of his tone.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, every year something happens, something terrible, and every year I come here upset and frazzled only to be ignored. You never cared before, why now?" Harry questioned back harshly.

"Because you need help, and badly. Harry, I need to know what happened. As your aunt-"

"You aren't my aunt," Harry interrupted her.

"Of course I am! What are you talking about?" she snapped.

"No you're not! An aunt doesn't hide her nephew from the world. She wouldn't shun him for being different or allow her son to bully him. She wouldn't ignore the letters from his Headmaster telling her what he's been through, leaving him to deal with it on his own!" he accused, the tears returning. And behind those emerald orbs, Lily shown at her accusingly. Her baby sister glared at her with such distain she wanted to turn away. Petunia looked away from Lily, returning to Harry, not that the view was much better but it was easier to deal with Harry. Still, the sight was heart wrenching. She did not know how badly he had been affected by this, what emotion he kept bottled up. He truly hated them for treating him like scum, and it hurt her. They had been selfish, foolish, and now she needed to fix that.

"Harry, come here," she patted the area next to her. During his outburst he had jumped to his feet. He stalked in front of her angrily for a moment before complying. "Harry, I'm sorry. I did not realize how this affected you, I just simply never thought about it before. About the letters, we never read them. We did not want to hear about your school and simply burned them. Believe me, I realize now that was a huge mistake, and I ask you now to forgive me. Please, let me make this right and help you now," she pleaded. She gently covered his hand, causing him to flinch back.

"I don't know…" Harry trailed off questioningly. Clearly, he did not trust her.

"If you don't tell me, I will write to that godfather of yours!" she threatened. However, it did not work as she had hoped. Instead Harry appeared to have just been punched in the stomach and began shaking, searching for control of his emotions. Well, at least she had a lead now.

"Does this have something to do with him?" she questioned softly.

"I killed him…" he choked out. His eyes were hollow and she was sure he no longer saw her. "He sent me a vision and I ran off blindly just like Hermione said I would. He would have lived if I stayed there, had I practiced like everyone told me to. I was too bloody stubborn to listen and here I go and kill him! I didn't mean to…," he cried. Petunia was shocked. She had not expected anything of this nature or seriousness.

"I-I'm sure you didn't mean to Harry," she mumbled, cautiously pulling him into an awkward embrace. "Now, tell me what exactly happened." Being in the emotional vulnerability he was in, Harry didn't protest and told her everything. About his Occlumency lessons, the nightmares, Umbridge and the Prophet, the vision, the battle, the prophecy, the veil, everything poured right out of him. She sat there and listened, not sure what was happening, but knowing he needed to let it out. This was outside her level, she could not help him with this kind of stuff, but she was determined to get the boy what he needed. Harry had settled down now, bordering on sleep. She unwrapped his arms and laid him down before moving towards his desk. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a quick note.

She turned to the owl that held out her leg with a string attached. She nervously tied the letter to its leg. The owl dropped the limb and stared at her almost expectantly. Crazy as it sounds, it looked like the owl was waiting for her to say something. When she saw Lily do this the owl just took off without a word. Well, she could try talking to it.

"Uh, I don't know who to send this to, but just take it to someone who could help him," she said, feeling foolish. However, the action was not as weird as it appeared because the owl flew out the open window. She shut it behind the bird, not liking how drafty it was in here. There was no way the cold could help Harry's mood or health.

XXXXXX

Remus Lupin stood in the eerily silent kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, trying quite unsuccessfully to block out haunting memories of his best friend. This house held so many dark thoughts and recollections and if he had his choice, he would be somewhere else, anywhere else, but necessity forced him back. With Sirius gone, it was possible at his Death Eater relatives could show up at any moment to claim the house and it would be detrimental to have Order papers laying about when they did. True, the house had been left to Harry, but they would not know until later if it would work, so Dumbledore ordered the house be cleared out.

He stuffed more scrolls into a box but was interrupted by a swoop of white feathers. He looked up in surprise to find a snowy white owl perched on the counter contemplating him. It took a moment before he recognized the bird as Harry's owl, Hedwig. For a moment the two stared at each other, Remus wondering what it was waiting for. Suddenly, Hedwig held out her leg, and he accepted the letter. Instead of flying off though, as was normal, the bird stayed there and continued to watch him. It was a tad unnerving in the silence. He walked back to the table and sat down. He examined the letter curiously. It was an unusual letter for Harry, being written on notebook paper instead of parchment. He unfolded it to be met with a hasty feminine scrawl.

Sir or Madam,

I do not know of your connection to my nephew, but I do believe you will be able to help him. Something heavily is weighing on his mind and I just cannot understand. I implore you to do whatever you can for him. He is troubled and needs your help. Please contact me when you get this.

Sincerely,

Petunia Dursley

Remus reread the letter a few times, allowing the message to sink in. Harry was in trouble! Clearly, it had to be serious if his aunt was concerned. He had to help the boy, his friends' son and godson! Guilt hit him. Harry, he'd completely forgot about him and how difficult this must be for him to go through. After all, he had lost his parents and now his godfather. He saw how much Sirius had meant to him and now he was gone, and Harry had watched this. Dumbledore had mentioned briefly the episode in his office, but he had not given it much thought. However, now was not the time to dwell on his emotions. Harry needed him!

A/N: So, what did you guys think? Kind of nervous about the reviews, this was a challenge for me. Please review, but don't flame. If you didn't like it, tell me why, help me improve.