Well, I was meaning for this to be a one-part story, but so many people asked me to continue that I decided I would. I'd like to remind people that this is still a Writer's Block story. Parts might vary in how well they are written because I'm trying to regain my Muse. Warning: if you don't like Angst fics, don't read this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter.
Alive
Harry walked as if he was in a drunken stupor, swaying from right to left and stumbling every few steps. His mind was clouded with what had just happened. They though he'd be happy? He would have been happy had he not been living in their shadow for sixteen years. He was about to begin his last year of Hogwarts, his last year of innocence and all they could do to help him with his new beginnings was to throw this unexpected turn of events at him. This wasn't what he needed right now. Nobody ever needed something like this. When parents died, they were dead and the death was accepted. To bring somebody back was to replace everything that they'd known for their entire life, almost to make their life into a lie. A lie that nobody wanted to live.
"Harry!" somebody called, obviously breathless. Harry continued to walk, almost breaking into a run when he felt a large, cold hand on his shoulder. He felt himself being forcefully turned around and came face to face with none other than his senior, twin in appearance except for the eyes.
"Get away from me," Harry let out, his voice low. He yanked his arm away from his father's touch. Sixteen years of being alone had taught the seventeen year-old how to avoid situations, especially since most of those years had been spent with the Dursley's. The cupboard under the stairs was looking especially good right now.
"No. Can't do that," James continued to follow him down the street. "Where are you going to go? What are you going to use to pay for it?" With the last statement, Harry turned around to look the older man in the face. Startled, Harry took several steps backwards and had to remind himself that age didn't affect the dead. James was almost a carbon copy of him.
"Maybe the fortune you left me when you died? Or, if you've already managed to cut me off from that, I can use all the money that my fans send me every year. You've gotta do something with that, don't you?" Harry turned back around and started to walk away. He once again felt a hand on his shoulder, but this time ignored it and let if fall away from him as he started into a light jog.
"Harry, the money is yours. I suspect you've been using it for years." James called. Harry turned around and looked at him. He was standing several meters away, the light drizzle that had just started pasting his black hair to his face.
"Then get the fuck away from me and keep you and your big-ass wife away too. You aren't worth shit to me, you here? I don't want you around me. I don't want to live with you. I don't want to become a happy-go-lucky Potter, and I don't want to skip in circles holding hands and singing."
"I'll cross that one off the list!" James yelled as Harry turned away from him and began to jog again. Pain started to enter his chest, hitting him in the heart every few seconds. Harry pushed it away and tried to focus on his mission. He had to get away, he had to leave behind all the pain that those two people had caused him. He had to be able to live his own life, outside of their shadow. His thoughts began to circle around him, never ceasing, always the same. Obsession filled his mind and stayed until he reached his destination almost forty-five minutes later. Downtown London and the Leaky Cauldron.
"Tom, I need a room, I'll pay in the morning, no questions please?" Harry said as he breathlessly reached the counter. Tom nodded, pulling the keys off of the wall and giving Harry a toothless smile.
"Anything for the-boy-who-lived." He smiled again and Harry felt as if he was going to be sick to his stomach. He followed Tom up the stairs and into a smaller, shabby room that reminded him of his room at Remus' house. Tome left the keys by the bedside table and quickly left, leaving Harry to his thoughts once again. He picked up pillow and heaved it at the wall, the thump not big enough to satisfy his mood. He picked up the pillow again and began to jump on it, leaving the yellowed-feathers to float silently down to the floor around his feet. On his last jump, Harry tripped and fell to the floor among the feathers. He pulled the last of the mutilated pillow towards him and crawled onto the bed and began to sob, finally falling asleep hours later.
The next morning he awoke to Hedwig's soft hooting. He looked up and saw the snowy owl impatiently hooting and flying around the room, a small package and letter attached to her foot. Harry pulled them off and opened the package and pulled out his wand. Hesitantly he opened the letter.
I thought you might need this. Every wizard should have their wand. I hope that you'll come home soon. You might not realize it, but I loved you when you were one and I love you now that you're seventeen. Your Mother.
Furiously Harry ripped the letter to shreds and threw it on the floor next to the remains of the feather pillow. Without thinking he stomped over to the desk and picked up the quill and parchment that Tom left his guests.
Stay out of my life and away from me. I don't need you and I don't love you. Stay the fuck away from me.
Moments later, Hedwig flew away from the Leaky Cauldron. She had a letter attached to her leg and the broken remains of the wand in a small package.
Thanks to RadiantMoonWolf, Audrey, Kim, Minna, Emma Malfoy, Chery27, and Prongsjr for their positive reviews. Thanks to the anonymous reader for your response, however if you write something like that, I would like to know why you think that.