Disclaimer: I don't take credit for Harry Potter.
Chapter Two: Let Your Feet Do the Talking
Harry had just reached the top of the steps when lo!, the harsh electronic screams of Uncle Vernon's alarm clock began to echo down the hall. There was a loud grunt and then the bedroom door opened and Aunt Petunia ambled out followed by Uncle Vernon, who lumbered along like an overweight elephant dressed in human clothing.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?" Uncle Vernon said his sleep filled eyes narrowing with anger as he assessed Harry who was now fully dressed and on his way down the stairs. "Get back here!" He bellowed after Harry as Harry proceeded his course unheedingly down the steps.
Uncle Vernon attempted to follow him but stopped short of the last step, his mustache sticking out like a miniature porcupine resting atop his lip. Harry smiled back at him bitterly and closed the door with a snap.
The weather was the exact opposite of his mood, bright and cheery. He scowled at the sun. How could it be so radiant when he, himself, was so dim inside? He hated the weather as much as he hated himself.
And as he walked down the last step of Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter did indeed let his feet do the leading as set his mind to other things. And just then, something forgotten popped into his mind.
Today was his birthday.
He was now 16. Sixteen.…The Big one-six. He was aware, however, that he just didn't care. Why? Because he didn't even care about life itself at the moment. He didn't care about anything. He just wanted to see Sirius again. To hear his bark of a laugh. To see his smile and hear his voice….That's what he cared about.
Harry looked up. His feet had lead him right to the very same playground in which he had sat just one year ago watching Dudley and his gang of followers as they walked by singing crude songs. Sadly he noticed the swing on which he had sat was now twisted and dangling silently over the top by its chain.
He wished with all his heart that it was night. He wished for that diamond speckled blanket with its deep blue color to be surrounding him. For the night is what he related to most at the moment; and to the moon most of all. That giant piece of rock. After all, they were both alone, both floating just outside the world too far away to be included, but yet close enough to see and hear.
Harry found his feet had began walking again. He was heading back home, his course fast and direct. All was still and quiet as he opened the door of Number 4 Privet Drive. And as he stood there on the threshold, he found that he didn't care that Uncle Vernon would be just inside waiting for him. Ready at the moment Harry walked in the door to scream and yell, his chest puffing out like a bird, his face a giant apple placed upon a watermelon that had no visible instrument to hold them together. But Harry was quiet stunned as he stepped through the door: several familiar faces were peering out at him fondly through the kitchen entryway.
Author's note: Wrote this very, very quick.