Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who is a genius.. ^_~
A/N: All righty, I felt like writing a random HP fanfic.not sure if I'll continue this or not..haven't written HP fanfiction in a while, it's mostly all been LOTR so tell me if it sux.
Chapter I.
Harry Potter looked up at his window with his startling green eyes as Hedwig, his owl, made herself known by pecking at the glass. He sighed heavily as he made himself get up off the bed and open the window to let her in. She flew in and perched atop her cage, a letter still clutched in her beak. He gave her an empty glance and took the letter from her. It was odd that she didn't have it tied to her leg. Harry sat back on the bed as he looked at the envelope. Another one from Ron. Harry tossed it across the room. It hit the wall opposite him and fell down on his desk on top of the pile of other letters he had gotten recently. They were all unopened, unanswered. He didn't bother anymore. He didn't want to deal with anyone. Among those who had so persistently written in the past 2 months or so, were Ron, Hermione, Remus, the Weasley twins, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and even Tonks had had a go. But he hadn't answered any of them. He had only opened and read the very first one from Ron, but had found that he couldn't write back. He had never opened another after that. Harry imagined that they all must be frantic now, after having written consistently all summer without reply. Harry could care less.
This summer had been, by far, the worse in his entire life. It wasn't that the Dursleys had been any more horrid than usual or that he had been locked up the whole time or ignored by his friends. He had been written, well-fed, received several birthday presents on July 31st, and his family, if you could call them that, had even been a bit better than usual. They ignored him more, which mean they plagued him less. He had promptly gotten his driver's license now that he was 16. But Harry Potter had been unnaturally miserable all summer because of what had happened at the end of last school year.
Sirius. Sirius had died. His god father. His beloved, black dog. Padfoot had been killed. Because of him. Because of Harry James Potter. Harry had never been more depressed. Here at the Dursleys, voluntarily alone in his room, he had nothing to distract him from thinking, dwelling upon Sirius. He went through every memory he had with his godfather over and over again in his head. Nightmares of Black's death haunted him consistently. And his heart ached with longing for his god father, just to see him once more, just say good bye, tell Sirius how much he loved him, get one of those big-Sirius hugs again. But he never could. There wasn't even a body or a funeral. Harry had absolutely no closure. And so he tormented himself, day after day. Even Dudley had noticed something odd about his cousin over this summer. He could insult and pester Harry all he wanted, and Harry would just take it all quietly, wordlessly. After a while, Dudley stopped trying to get a rise out of him.
Harry would leave his room at night, wandering about the neighborhood on his own. He had taken to drinking, unfortunately. It wasn't too hard to mistake him as someone older. He had grown over the summer, after all. Getting drunk seemed to make it all go away for a while. Hangovers were never a good thing, but he had what the hell, he was miserable enough as it was. The Dursleys didn't care, of course, if they even noticed in the first place. As long as Harry didn't make a racket when he came home and remembered to lock the front door, all was well with them. Harry skipped meals for days on end, but his aunt and uncle didn't care about that either, Hardly noticed, since Harry usually didn't get much to eat anyway. He was hardly subject to hunger any longer. Nothing would fill the emptiness inside him.
Harry fell back onto the bed with another sigh, ignoring Hedwig who hooted from atop her cage and eyed the teenager with her big, yellow eyes. Not for the first time that summer, he stared up at the blank ceiling in thought, remaining very still. He wanted to express his sorrow somehow, but he could find no way to do so. Harry was so tired of crying. Every night for the first month or so, he would cry himself to sleep. He would weep until he didn't feel himself weeping, until there was not another tear to be shed. Now he couldn't anymore. No matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to. His grief only deepened with no outlet for it.
He didn't want to get off his bed. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts or face any of those people. He didn't want to be their savior. He didn't want to deal with Voldemort. He didn't want to be Harry Potter. All he wanted was to have Sirius back. But of course, he couldn't. // No, I can never have anything I want//, he thought bitterly. He grabbed a picture of Dumbledore that was among the many pictures that crowded his bedside table and threw it at the wall. The glass of the frame shattered when it smashed against the wall and it fell down to the carpet with a small thud. // Damn you, Dumbledore! // Harry thought.Hopefully, he would waste away before school started.
Harry rose and sat up angrily. He swiped at the many picture frames on his table and grabbed one of Ron.
" Damn you for not being here, Ron! " he cried and threw it at the wall.
" Damn you for not stopping me, Hermione! " he said as he next threw a picture of his other friend, referring to that night he had gone to the Department of Mysteries and had therefore gotten Sirius killed.
" Damn you, Hagrid! " And a picture of the burly half-giant smashed.
" Damn you for not crying, Lupin! " A picture of Remus shattered on impact.
" And damn you, " Harry said through tears as he looked down at a picture of Sirius he now held. " Damn you for dying." That last picture joined the pile on the floor after sliding down the wall. Harry stared at it shakily.
" What in bloody hell is all that racket up there? " stormed Vernon Dursley from downstairs. It had been a long while since he found anything to yell at Harry for.
Hedwig hooted softly and gave Harry a pitying, compassionate look as she bobbed her head. Harry rubbed away the tears furiously with the back of his hand. He hated it all.
A/N: All righty, I felt like writing a random HP fanfic.not sure if I'll continue this or not..haven't written HP fanfiction in a while, it's mostly all been LOTR so tell me if it sux.
Chapter I.
Harry Potter looked up at his window with his startling green eyes as Hedwig, his owl, made herself known by pecking at the glass. He sighed heavily as he made himself get up off the bed and open the window to let her in. She flew in and perched atop her cage, a letter still clutched in her beak. He gave her an empty glance and took the letter from her. It was odd that she didn't have it tied to her leg. Harry sat back on the bed as he looked at the envelope. Another one from Ron. Harry tossed it across the room. It hit the wall opposite him and fell down on his desk on top of the pile of other letters he had gotten recently. They were all unopened, unanswered. He didn't bother anymore. He didn't want to deal with anyone. Among those who had so persistently written in the past 2 months or so, were Ron, Hermione, Remus, the Weasley twins, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and even Tonks had had a go. But he hadn't answered any of them. He had only opened and read the very first one from Ron, but had found that he couldn't write back. He had never opened another after that. Harry imagined that they all must be frantic now, after having written consistently all summer without reply. Harry could care less.
This summer had been, by far, the worse in his entire life. It wasn't that the Dursleys had been any more horrid than usual or that he had been locked up the whole time or ignored by his friends. He had been written, well-fed, received several birthday presents on July 31st, and his family, if you could call them that, had even been a bit better than usual. They ignored him more, which mean they plagued him less. He had promptly gotten his driver's license now that he was 16. But Harry Potter had been unnaturally miserable all summer because of what had happened at the end of last school year.
Sirius. Sirius had died. His god father. His beloved, black dog. Padfoot had been killed. Because of him. Because of Harry James Potter. Harry had never been more depressed. Here at the Dursleys, voluntarily alone in his room, he had nothing to distract him from thinking, dwelling upon Sirius. He went through every memory he had with his godfather over and over again in his head. Nightmares of Black's death haunted him consistently. And his heart ached with longing for his god father, just to see him once more, just say good bye, tell Sirius how much he loved him, get one of those big-Sirius hugs again. But he never could. There wasn't even a body or a funeral. Harry had absolutely no closure. And so he tormented himself, day after day. Even Dudley had noticed something odd about his cousin over this summer. He could insult and pester Harry all he wanted, and Harry would just take it all quietly, wordlessly. After a while, Dudley stopped trying to get a rise out of him.
Harry would leave his room at night, wandering about the neighborhood on his own. He had taken to drinking, unfortunately. It wasn't too hard to mistake him as someone older. He had grown over the summer, after all. Getting drunk seemed to make it all go away for a while. Hangovers were never a good thing, but he had what the hell, he was miserable enough as it was. The Dursleys didn't care, of course, if they even noticed in the first place. As long as Harry didn't make a racket when he came home and remembered to lock the front door, all was well with them. Harry skipped meals for days on end, but his aunt and uncle didn't care about that either, Hardly noticed, since Harry usually didn't get much to eat anyway. He was hardly subject to hunger any longer. Nothing would fill the emptiness inside him.
Harry fell back onto the bed with another sigh, ignoring Hedwig who hooted from atop her cage and eyed the teenager with her big, yellow eyes. Not for the first time that summer, he stared up at the blank ceiling in thought, remaining very still. He wanted to express his sorrow somehow, but he could find no way to do so. Harry was so tired of crying. Every night for the first month or so, he would cry himself to sleep. He would weep until he didn't feel himself weeping, until there was not another tear to be shed. Now he couldn't anymore. No matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to. His grief only deepened with no outlet for it.
He didn't want to get off his bed. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts or face any of those people. He didn't want to be their savior. He didn't want to deal with Voldemort. He didn't want to be Harry Potter. All he wanted was to have Sirius back. But of course, he couldn't. // No, I can never have anything I want//, he thought bitterly. He grabbed a picture of Dumbledore that was among the many pictures that crowded his bedside table and threw it at the wall. The glass of the frame shattered when it smashed against the wall and it fell down to the carpet with a small thud. // Damn you, Dumbledore! // Harry thought.Hopefully, he would waste away before school started.
Harry rose and sat up angrily. He swiped at the many picture frames on his table and grabbed one of Ron.
" Damn you for not being here, Ron! " he cried and threw it at the wall.
" Damn you for not stopping me, Hermione! " he said as he next threw a picture of his other friend, referring to that night he had gone to the Department of Mysteries and had therefore gotten Sirius killed.
" Damn you, Hagrid! " And a picture of the burly half-giant smashed.
" Damn you for not crying, Lupin! " A picture of Remus shattered on impact.
" And damn you, " Harry said through tears as he looked down at a picture of Sirius he now held. " Damn you for dying." That last picture joined the pile on the floor after sliding down the wall. Harry stared at it shakily.
" What in bloody hell is all that racket up there? " stormed Vernon Dursley from downstairs. It had been a long while since he found anything to yell at Harry for.
Hedwig hooted softly and gave Harry a pitying, compassionate look as she bobbed her head. Harry rubbed away the tears furiously with the back of his hand. He hated it all.