Warning: Contains MAJOR spoilers for book 5, so don't read it if you don't want it all spoiled.

Bring Back The Sun

01. There's Nothing Sweet About It

You're falling back to me

The star that I can see

I know you're out there

Somewhere out there

Harry had not had the best summer, though Harry never usually had very good summers. He never did anything overly extraordinary, and unless you counted nearly being rendered soulless but a couple of dementors, Harry's summers had never been very interesting, either. There was that time when he blew up his aunt (his uncle's sister, Marge, who insisted upon telling him what was wrong with him every time she saw him); or the time he found a house elf on his bed and nearly got expelled from Hogwarts when the elf had exploded a large pudding; then there was that time when six or seven wizards turned up at number four Privet Drive to escort him to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix which happened to house his best friends and an escaped convict who happened to be his godfather.

All and all, Harry Potter's summers were rather ordinary.

It was his sixteenth birthday when he received an owl that changed the course of his summer indefinitely. There weren't too many words on the rolled up, scorched piece of parchment but Harry knew immediately who it was from. He took in the scrawl eagerly and ignored the tiny owl who was hooting madly atop his own owl's cage. Hedwig watched the smaller owl indignantly before turning her back on Harry and tucking her beak under her wing.

Harry was thinking bitterly about how there was nothing sweet about turning sixteen as his eyes scanned the page, not taking any of the words in. Sometimes, Harry's anger seemed to cause him temporary blindness. Suddenly, he stopped thinking and concentrated on the page in front of him.

Harry - We're coming to get you. -Ron

Though he was desperate for any sign of life from the wizarding world, Harry could help but feel a huge jolt in his stomach. Ron's note reminded him of the life he had left behind a month ago, a life that he couldn't live without, yet didn't want to go back to. It all reminded him.

Sirius' face swam into his consciousness and he gulped. He'd done his best to keep thoughts and feelings of his godfather at bay, but sometimes they'd come floating back and Harry could feel the familiar pricking behind his eyelids as tears threatened to overcome him. He fought it, as he always did; shaking his head and cramming his fists into the pockets of his overly large jeans, and casting his eyes at his owl, or his broomstick which had been confiscated most of last year, but was now once more in his possession. He thought of the things that usually made him happy, but was sad to find that today they just made him dread the coming days, and the rest of his life.


The parchment, crumpled, was thrown into the waste bin and Harry threw himself down on his bed, hearing the satisfying crunch of the mattress springs cracking under his weight. His bed was in bad shape, but only because it was so old, and had been used previously by his cousin, Dudley, who was not the thinnest person in the world.

His birthday was usually a happy time, it marked another year he had lived…but this year, all it brought was more pain. The sadness that threatened to swallow Harry whole was becoming too much for him to handle himself. However, he had no one to turn to, to confide in. His friends were busy, doing things without him, with their families. Harry's only living family were downstairs at the moment, watching the news and complaining about him. The person who had been home to him, who he had hoped to have a home with, was gone now. And he wasn't coming back.

That realization had hit Harry hard in the stomach, some days before. He hoped against hope that Sirius wasn't gone forever, but the day before the train left Hogsmeade station to take him here, to Little Winging and his horrid relatives, he had realized. He was gone, and he wouldn't be back.

A tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. Harry shook his head fiercely, unwilling to cry again. He was dried up, and he was angry; he wouldn't cry, he refused to.

As the sky darkened outside, Harry lay in bed watching the shadows on the ceiling and wondering what it would be like for him now, if Sirius hadn't been killed. He wondered if he'd be at Grammauld Place with his godfather, having a wonderful time.

One thing Harry learned during this was not to dwell too much on what could have been. It only made the hurt worse.

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'Tis short, I know. All lyrics used in this story will be by Our Lady Peace on their "Gravity" CD.