A/N: First off, I'd like to thank juliadw for being my beta on this!

This is an alternate sixth year. Hope you enjoy it. And be patient… I'm actually trying to take my time with character development! Reviews and concrit are always welcome.

Warnings: Lack of Draco in Chapter One.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Chapter One:

Numb

Harry sat silently, staring out the window of his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon's blustering voice carried up from the kitchen, interspersed with Aunt Petunia's shrill remarks. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to be a topic of discussion today; he could remain in his room, and his family would ignore his existence. Strange, how life could seem so normal when in his world everything was erupting in chaos. And Sirius was gone.

The sunlight streaming into his room was too bright and warm. With a sigh, he pulled down the shade and flung himself on the bed. Hedwig hooted softly from her cage. She looked worried, or as worried as an owl could look. Hard to tell, with her face covered in feathers.

"I'm all right, girl. Just… thinking about Sirius, is all." He rolled onto his stomach.

I wish I were somewhere else. Away from the Dursleys, just… somewhere I didn't have to think about them.

I wish I were with Sirius.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Sirius was gone, because of Harry's recklessness, and they'd never get any real time together. They'd never get to be a real family–

…it's my fault…

He sighed again, then deliberately pushed his godfather from his mind and picked up a letter from the table next to his bed. An invitation to spend the summer at the Burrow, with the Weasleys. In August, Hermione would join them on their annual trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. According to the letter, Mr. Weasley would be picking him that evening, and Apparate him out. And of course, he wasn't to worry about anything; the Order had made sure the Burrow was as safe as it possibly could be. Much safer than staying with the Dursleys—at the Burrow, Harry could be magically protected without worry of Muggles seeing something they shouldn't. Ron and Ginny were looking forward to seeing him again, Fred and George were going to try to get a bit of time off from their incredibly successful new shop, and Bill was swearing to, at the very least, escort them to King's Crossing. Harry could almost hear the disgust in Mrs. Weasley's words when she mentioned that Bill's fiancée, Fleur, looked forward to seeing him, too.

It really was everything he could hope for. Any other summer, he would have been through the roof, packed and ready to go. But in the whole, chatty letter, they didn't once ask what he wanted.

And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to go. Guess that makes me ungrateful…

They'd check up on him, constantly. And all he wanted was to be left alone. If he could just be left alone, he wouldn't have to feel so much. He could distance himself. And if he wasn't attached to people, he'd stop losing the people he cared about. Or, at least it wouldn't be his fault when someone… left.

He hadn't bothered answering the letter

With an effort, Harry closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the ice growing in his chest. It numbed him, insulating him so that he could function. Barely. But without the ice, he was paralyzed in his grief and guilt. So he froze, pushing away the warmth. He deserved the cold, and it was so good not to feel anymore…

Without noticing, Harry slipped into dreams of a frozen wasteland, desolate and barren, empty of all life. Just snow and ice, surrounding him in all directions and so very peaceful. He could disappear here forever…

xxxxx

He woke suddenly, feeling searing heat on his shoulder. Harry yelped and leapt away from the source, then felt foolish when he saw Arthur Weasley's surprised face.

"Harry, you're like ice." The man's voice was filled with concern. "You shouldn't fall asleep with the window open like that." Mr. Weasley looked slightly puzzled. No wonder; it was a remarkably balmy night. There was no reason Harry should have been so cold.

"'M fine," Harry said. "I'll just get my things…"

"No need. You looked so tired I didn't want to disturb you. I've already sent all your things ahead. If you're ready, we can go now," Mr. Weasley paused, then continued tentatively. "Of course, if you want to say good-bye to your family…" He let the sentence taper off, clearly waiting for a response.

Harry felt the ice starting to crack at the thought of his so-called family. "Yeah, just give me a minute. Should probably tell them I'm going." Not that they'd notice I'm gone. I'm sure they'll be glad to be rid of me. He took a steadying breath, summoning the cold to him again. I am ice…

Safely cocooned in the ice, Harry opened the door and went downstairs. His aunt and uncle were in the living room. They fell silent and looked up at him when he drifted into the room. The three stared at each other for a moment.

Harry took a deep breath. "So. I'm going away for the summer." His voice was cold, emotionless… frozen, just like the rest.

Glaring, Uncle Vernon said, "Be back, will you?"

"Not this summer," Harry replied evenly. "Not 'til next summer."

His uncle just glared at him.

Probably deciding if getting rid of me is worth giving me something I want. Maybe I should tell him I'd rather stay here this year—

"Fine." Uncle Vernon's harsh voice interrupted his thoughts. "But don't you go changing your plans. I don't want to adjust our plans again to accommodate an ungrateful whelp like you. In fact…"

Harry was up the stairs before his uncle finished. "Let's go," he said to Arthur.

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, then closed it again. He nodded, and asked, "Need anything else?" When Harry just shook his head, Mr. Weasley put his arm around the boy's shoulders and Apparated them both away.

xxxxx

It's not so bad, Harry thought a week later. In fact, it's really nice—if I overlook how I have to freakin' hide to get a moment's peace.

At that moment, Harry was hiding. Under his bed. With his school chest pulled between him and the rest of the room, and wrapped in his father's invisibility cloak. Holding his breath, because Ginny was on her hands and knees, looking right at him.

Another pair of feet entered the room, and he heard Ron ask, "Any sign of him?"

Ginny pushed herself off the ground. "No," she said. "I can't find him anywhere." Her voice rose slightly. "What if… You-Know-Who got him?"

For the briefest moment, Harry felt guilty for making her worry. But—

I didn't ask to come here. All I want is a little time alone; can't I even have that? He felt a sob building in his chest, and choked it back. Ice, he had to remember to be ice…

Embraced by the perfect chill, he was able to listen in on his friends again.

"… So you see, there's no way that You-Know-Who could have gotten past half the Order and the wards Dumbledore set." Ron sounded unusually sure of himself, and a moment later, Harry learned the reason. "Hermione knows what she's talking about, yeah? So relax. He's probably outside. You know Mum's been after him to get out."

And that was another problem. Harry really didn't need Mrs. Weasley badgering him all the time.

So what if I'm not feeling very social? I just lost Sirius! He blinked sudden tears away, listening to Ron and Ginny's footsteps heading downstairs. Only when he was sure they were gone could he relax, and let the tears fall.

xxxxx

He'd managed to hide the rest of the day, although it had meant going without supper. Not that it was so hard to do—he'd had plenty of practice living with the Dursleys, after all. Besides, mealtimes were the hardest. The whole family gathered around the table, talking and laughing, and it was just too much to deal with. And Mrs. Weasley never failed to pile his plate with food, telling him he was going to waste away…

Every day, he hid for longer and longer periods. Every night, he lay awake in bed, shivering with the desire to run away. To go somewhere where the people weren't sunshine and cheer, where he didn't have someone constantly trying to brighten his mood. Somewhere he could harden his shield of ice, so it wouldn't melt and leave him open. So he wouldn't endanger anyone else by rushing foolishly in.

Ron was mumbling in his sleep again. Harry ignored him, forcing himself to push his friend out of his mind. For the hundredth time that day he pictured ice, growing and filling the void left behind when Sirius vanished. He let the cold ease him to sleep, back to the familiar dream of snow.

xxxxx

Harry stared at the letter he had just received, hands trembling.

Dear Harry,

I would like to express my sincere wish that you are having a peaceful, if not happy, birthday. I know that the events of the last year have been difficult, and I know also that this coming year will hold still more challenges. I am, however, confident that you can overcome those challenges with your usual proficiency.

I will visit you later today, as there is a matter of some delicacy regarding Sirius' legacy that I must discuss with you in person.

I am most sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry couldn't think, could hardly breathe, through the haze of rage. How could Dumbledore even think about Sirius' legacy? Didn't he know that Sirius would come back?

He will come back, I'll find him and help him come back… Harry's thoughts swirled dizzyingly through his mind, flashing by too quickly for him to catch more than the barest essence: he refused to give up on Sirius. Even if everybody else had.

Harry struggled to push down the emotions that threatened to engulf him, fought to regain the wintery calm. After what seemed like hours, he managed to wrap his thoughts in a snowy blanket once more. It almost smothered the frantic voice that begged not to be left alone again.

xxxxx

Dumbledore arrived at the Burrow at precisely half past six that evening. Mrs. Weasley had been cooking all day and was just about to cut into an extravagant cake when a slight pop announced the headmaster's arrival. When he came into the house, Harry felt his earlier rage stirring sluggishly inside him, then fade away, defeated by the inner cold.

Twinkling eyes surveyed the scene, and came to rest on Harry. He felt himself pulling away from the sympathy and sorrow; it threatened to melt the ice that held everything in.

"Harry, my dear boy, how are you?"

"I—"

"How thoughtless of me." Dumbledore shook his head. "I expect that question is far more difficult to answer than anything you've been asked in class. Molly, I beg your forgiveness, but I must speak with Harry in private."

"Of course, Albus. Harry, show the headmaster up to your room, there's a dear. You will be staying for cake?"

"If there's time, Molly. After you, Harry."

Harry silently led Dumbledore up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron.

Dumbledore looked around the room, eyes missing nothing, making small sounds of approval. Pulling out his wand, he straightened the blankets on the beds, then perched on Ron's and waved a hand towards Harry's bed. "Please, sit down."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until Dumbledore sighed.

"Harry, there are a great many things I would change about the last year. A great many… Unfortunately, I cannot. It would be impossible to predict the effect on the future… You do understand me, I hope?"

Harry nodded, determined not to make this any easier for Dumbledore. It's not like third year, there are too many mistakes, and… Hermione already said Timeturners won't go back that far.

Dumbledore was clearly waiting for a response.

"With respect, sir," Harry said, finally, "I said everything I care to last May, in your office." A jolt of satisfaction ran through him when Dumbledore winced at the reminder. "I don't really see why I should talk about… what happened, again—"

"Sirius left you everything, Harry. His vaults, his house… Everything. And—forgive me, my boy—some of these items are of great importance to the Order."

Of course. It's important to the Order, so I have to deal with it, whether I want to or not. A wave of sadness rose inside him, and he let it wash over his mind. Dumbledore, at least, wouldn't be trying to cheer him. Bet Lupin wouldn't, either. I wish he hadn't gone to the werewolves; I'd rather be with him this summer. He'd understand, about Sirius. Anywhere would be better than… Hold on, there's a thought!

"I want to go there."

"Harry?"

"For the rest of the summer. I want to stay in Sir… in my house. It is my house, isn't it?"

"I… suppose, if Molly or Arthur go with—"

"No. I want to go on my own. Besides, it's Order headquarters, right? Not like I won't have supervision."

"It can't be—"

"I know it can't be home. It's Sirius' home. But you say it's mine, now, and I want to stay there. Just for the summer. Just visiting, right?"

Dumbledore sighed. "And… the Order can still use the house? Even if you don't agree completely with what we're doing?"

Don't agree… Why wouldn't I agree with something that could stop Voldemort? "I'll stay out of the way, I promise. You won't even know I'm there."

"Very well. I will inform Molly that you'll be joining me when I leave. Pack up, say your goodbyes." He paused a moment, then continued. "Please, Harry, talk to us. If not me, then someone else. We worry about you."

Harry only half heard him. A pressure he hadn't even noticed was lightening inside, and all he could think was finally, finally, he'd have freedom to do what he wanted. And the Black library to help. And maybe he could finally find a way to get Sirius back.