Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, who is completely my literary idol, at this point in life. I own nothing.
So Little LeftBy Wijida
"What it is, then," Said Uncle Vernon coldly, as he and Harry made their way- under the increasingly watchful eye of Alastor Moody- to the company car, "is that your Aunt Petunia and I have got to put up with your ruddy cheek for one more nasty summer term, under conditions of that…fellow, there."
Careful not to look back and cast another grateful glance in Moody's direction, Harry hoisted Hedwig's case beneath his arm and managed a simple nod at the comment.
"Quite right." Although Sirius had threatened in the past, Harry was certain that at this point, Uncle Vernon wasn't about to cause Harry any more misery, with three wizards on his back. Although the ranks were broken by one…the thought causing the contents of Harry's stomach to contort painfully as he recalled the events of the previous days.
"What's the matter, boy?" His uncle paused several feet ahead to turn and glare menacingly at Harry's still form, his own feet having stopped moving seconds before. "You'd best get a move on- I'll not have that no good murdering godfather of yours on my back."
"Don't need to worry about that." Harry mumbled, but as the wizards were now out of sight, Uncle Vernon had begun to re-grow his backbone, and began to advance upon the boy.
"What's that?"
"I said, you don't need to worry about Sirius," Harry snapped, the anger beginning to rise in his cheeks, the grip on Hedwig's cage becoming stronger with each passing moment. "He's dead."
To say it in his head was one thing, but to speak the words aloud were quite simply another, and as Uncle Vernon stood still, Harry felt the melancholy sadness sink in deeper still. The odd yearning that, for once, somebody he deeply cared about would live to take care of him. For a moment, in Dumbledore's office, he'd been nearly certain the Headmaster was going to offer him shelter from the Dursleys for the summer, and his heart had warmed even further toward the aging man. But what Dumbledore had last said…
"Get along, boy." Uncle Vernon had resumed movement, his forceful voice permeating the fog which had settled so easily upon Harry's mind. Blinking, the boy rushed to catch up, heaving his things into the back of the car, and wishing for all the world he were back in his first year…when he'd never heard of the possibility of bliss.
~~
Hedwig went hunting the moment Harry had been able to start unpacking his Hogwarts things and open her cage to release her. Rather than complete unpacking his trunk, however, Harry collapsed onto the tattered bedspread and clenched his eyes tightly shut.
The reason he was not a Prefect had been simple enough, Dumbledore's feelings made clear in their recent discussion. But the envy had been enough over the course of the year to make Harry feel slightly cheated at the verdict, nonetheless.
As he lay back, staring at the ceiling, Harry found himself struck by a though which had visited him several times before, and recently sunk further into his mind.
The Boy-Who-Lived had begun to wish that he, indeed, had not.
~End
