Lost But Not Forgotten
The burning pain of the famous lightening bolt scar only infuriated Harry more. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't wanted to be famous. He hadn't wanted to be destined to challenge a dark wizard to a duel to the death. Then again, when had anything he wanted ever come true? The bitter thoughts welled up in his head, and the anger only made his scar ache worse.
Thankfully, Hedwig swooped down through the window, and landed on Harry's bed. Harry sighed as he looked at the message attached to Hedwig's leg. He wasn't sure if he could take any more sympathy from his friends. The trip back home had been long enough, not to mention the past week at the Dursley's house. However, atleast they we're trying to care.
"Thanks, Hediwg." Harry tried to smile as he removed the parchment from Hedwig. She nipped at his ear, and then flew out to the window sill. The silhouette of Hedwig against the moon reminded him of Hogwarts, which started him down a train of thought that once again plunged him into a maddening fury. His scar burned still, and he thought he felt Voldemort laughing. Angry he heaved a pillow onto the floor. Anything louder and he may attract the attention of his aunt or uncle.
The letter still clenched in his fist, Harry considered ignoring it. Then, he figured he might as well read some more empty words. Words couldn't bring Sirius back. Words couldn't fill the hole in his heart. Still, Harry unrolled the parchment. Hoping that it would be news that Ron wanted him to come and stay. Instead, it was from Dumbledore himself.
Dear Harry:
I have some things I must tell you. However, I know that you will probably not want to see me. Please put aside your anger, and consent to just a few minutes of your time. I will call for you promptly at 5:00 PM tomorrow.
Professor Albus Dumbledore
Harry reread the letter several times. He didn't understand. What more could Dumbledore say? Harry crumpled the parchment angrily. He took out a quill and some parchment and tried to think of a reply. No words could come to his mind, however, and he stuffed the quill and parchment back into his desk. Perhaps, he'd think of something later.
A loud crash followed by a scream and a groan interrupted Harry's thoughts. Harry's mind flew several different directions at once. Who or what was in his house, and did he even care enough to find out? Harry instinctively grabbed for his wand. No matter what, he would be sure he was armed before he went anywhere outside his room.
He charged down the stairs, and rushed into the kitchen. There on the floor was a dirty mass of fur that upon closer inspection proved to be a puppy. Harry shook his head, and returned his wand to his pocket. As Harry bent down to get a closer look, Dudley came rushing over.
"Harry, you can't tell mom. This is my dog. His name is Killer."
Harry laughed, "Killer?" Harry frowned and stood to his full height. "More like mudpile. Where'd you find him? The dump?"
"Come off it, Harry! Don't even bother!" Dudley pushed Harry onto the floor. "Go back to your room, and don't say a word, or I swear I'll…" Dudley held up his fists as if he were preparing to fight.
"Oh whatever…and to think I thought something important was going on here."
Harry grumbled as he went back upstairs. He listened as the dog barked menacingly at Dudley. Harry closed the door to his room, and fell onto his bed. The crumpled ball of parchment crackled under him. He again thought of replying to Dumbledore. Then his mind went back to that scene in Dumbledore's office. No, he wouldn't reply. What was there to be said?
Another crash reverberated through the house. He could hear Dudley and a furious Uncle Vernon arguing. That'll teach him, Harry thought. He sat up and stretched, and then walked to the window. It was going to be a long summer.
Harry woke with a start. He suddenly had an urge for a bowl of ice cream. Perhaps it was because he had been dreaming about it, or maybe because he had skipped dinner. Harry reached for his glasses and glanced at the clock. Two o'clock and he wanted ice cream. Surely there was no harm in a trip downstairs?
Harry slowly got out of bed and reached for his dressing gown. He tiptoed out of his room, carefully leaving his door open a crack. If Harry woke up his aunt and uncle, they'd think he was trying to steal something or at least causing trouble. That would never do, they'd lock him away in his room again. Not that Harry minded in the least bit.
At the top of the stairs Harry paused. He thought he heard movement. His heart began to beat faster, and he felt a drop of sweat drip down his forehead. His scar began to throb like crazy. He forced himself not to double over in pain. It hadn't hurt this bad since…Harry pulled his thoughts away from Sirius. Not now, he told himself.
His stomach growled and Harry continued down the steps, focusing on the chocolate ice cream that awaited him in the freezer. He focused so hard in fact that he didn't notice the sleeping dark shadow on the third to last step. Harry tripped, fell, and rolled down the last few steps landing with a painful crunch on the first floor landing. His head hit the wooden floor, and he was bearly conscious of a a dog barking.
It all seemed so far away. The screaming, the angry voices of his aunt and uncle. The dog howling. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't…A blackness swirled around him, and mercifully took over his thoughts.
