A/U: Thanks for the support from my two reviewers, Rururr and jc52185, for giving me a reason to actually keep writing this past the boring start. Now we get to see it actually pick up, and with it, my chapters should increase in length..I'll try at least. Like I said in Chapter 3, its a personal reason they're so short. If I ever/when I finish this, I'll more than likely condense chapters to make it all flow better. Without further adu though, here's Chapter 4.

Anger only Deepens...

Harry glanced up at the door. It was the one Ms. Weasley had directed him too, and while there was no other place he could go, he was hesitant about opening it. He could hear the soft voices of his 'friends' Hermione and Ron, most likely talking freely about something he wouldn't be told. It angered him, more than the abrupt dismissal downstairs, more than the scarce letters. Deep down, he knew it was somehow wrong to feel angry at them..that he should look forward to the information they could and most likely would give him. He wasn't looking all that far deep down though.

The raven haired teen thrust the door open, catching Hermione and Ron looking at him, traces of some odd emotion..fear?..in their eyes, before they stood up and rushed over to him.

"Harry!" Hermione muttered, for a second seeming like she was going to try to hug him, having thought better of it after seeing his face. Instead, she nervously cupped her hands in front of her. An openly worried expression on her face as she turned to Ron, who seemed to not have the girl's insight on Harry's mood.

Said red head walked up to Harry and, to the teens' shock and dismay, said loudly with a smile on his face. "Hey Harry! Sorry about the letters over the summer.." at a harsh glare from Harry, he quickly added, "Dumbledore told us not to be to descriptive, mate. Its not our faults."

Harry's glare deepened, his eyes darkening at his 'friend's' words. So they were that willing to listen to Dumbledore, that they would leave a friend so completely in the dark. They could've found a way, but they had simply followed the old man's words like sheep. It sickened him, and added fuel to the fire that was the teen's growing anger. He gritted out, "So you didn't try to find a way, just gave up and sent those pathetic things? Thanks, guys." At the others' thrown looks, he quickly added, "At least tell me now, then. Why am I here now, or even where is here?"

Ron looked pleadingly up at Hermione, urging her to answer instead of him. Exasperated by Ron, she hurriedly said, "Its not like that Harry, we tried to find a way..but Dumbledore..And this is Sirius's home, house. Its the Headquarters of 'The Order of the Phenoix'." At the raven haired teens uncomprehending look, she quickly added, "Its a secret order built by Dumbledore during Vol-..You-Know-Who's first reign, to fight against him."

Harry supposed it made sense, but she had neglected to tell him why he was here..which the girl seemed to remember a secound later, a soft blush on her face as she muttered, "..and you're here because of the Dementor attack..I thought you would've known that by now..but Harry-"

She was cut off as Harry's mind seemingly blanked. Dementor attack? He hadn't heard anything about it..then again..the Ministry was sure to have covered it up from the Muggles. Still though, why had no one downstairs answered those seemingly simple questions, why had they ignored him? The anger that had been quietly subsiding was growing again at his thoughts. He had seen Voldemort rise again, faced him so many times. Why was he left out of the loop, when the two seemingly 'unimportant' teenagers in front of him had done so much less, yet somehow seemed to know all the answers.

While the raven haired teen had been thinking, the room had grown silent. This was broken quickly as the teen's quiet, seething voice spoke, "Leave."

The room's other two occupants looked at him as though he had gone insane. Ron being slightly braver than Hermione..or more stupid..quickly yelling in protest, "What do you mean? This is my room too, Harry. Just because you're throwing a hissy-" He was stopped by Harry's glare. It was evil, pure hate..It didn't belong on his face.

"Leave." He repeated, his magic acting in a rare burst of accidental magic, causing the room's temperature to drop rapidly. This time, neither Ron nor Hermione hesitated, and quickly walked out of the room. Harry's wild magic snapping the door locked and shut tightly behind them.

After the two had left, the teen punched his hand against the wall. He hardly even felt it, as it formed a giant hole in the unfortunate wall. At least..until 2 seconds later, when he started to regret it as he noticed the skin on his hand flaked and bleeding, the pain starting to reach his mind. With a scowl, he sat down on one of the beds that had been in the room. Compared to everything else in it, they were the only even somewhat clean surface.

Looking down at his hand, he sat in thought. How dare they do that, just everything. How could they tell them, and not him? How could they ignore him as they had..how could..they do any of that? Somewhere in his thoughts, he absent mindedly noticed a loud pounding on the door, but ignored it. If whoever it was wanted in enough, they could wait. If he thought his anger odd, he thought nothing of it. Thought nothing of how different it was that instead of dispersing, the hatred and betrayal and pure rage stayed with him, clinging to him desperately. He would later regret it..perhaps.

Eventually his thoughts shifted to dreams, of which Harry would remember nothing of once he awoke. Nothing except a cold smile and deep, burning red eyes.