Author Note: just so no one gets confused, I'm alternating between focuing on Sirius and Harry. Otherwise, the story could get a little boring. So if this chapter seems like an entirely new story, rest assured that it's simply the beginning of Harry's POV. Also, a little bit of time has passed since the end of last chapter and the beginning of this one
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For the first time, Harry Potter wasn't looking forward to returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In fact, he wasn't looking forward to doing much of anything. He'd turned down all of Ron Weasley's invitations to stay at the Burrow; he'd declined Hermione Granger's offer to take him on her family's trip to Italy; his longest letter to anyone had been four lines; and he had visited Diagon Alley at the last possible moment, when it was nearly deserted. Harry had spent the past two months sitting in his room at number four, Privet Drive, staring at an old photo album until he thought he'd gone mad. On more than one occasion, he'd caught himself talking softly to the smiling, waving figures in the photos, almost believing he could hear their responses. He knew, however, that it was only wishful thinking.
He used to wish that he had at least known his parents before they were killed. Had the opportunity to spend time with them, get to know them. If this were the case, he had thought, it wouldn't be nearly as hard for him to live without them. But now, after everything that had occurred the previous year, Harry was almost thankful they had died before he had grown too attached. Before he'd had a chance to fully understand what he was missing. Now that Sirius was gone too, Harry had a taste of what that was like.
It wasn't fair. His whole life, he had longed for the parents he'd never known, the ones whose love for him had been so great that they'd given their lives to spare his. A part of him was constantly empty, constantly aching. If only he could see them once more, talk to them at least once, feel the warmth of a parent's loving embrace. If only something would fill this hole in him. It was his one greatest desire. And, for a short time, Harry had gotten the next best thing. A godfather. A wonderful, loving, godfather. Someone who had been best friends with Harry's father; someone who understood when others didn't; someone who was always there when Harry needed him; someone who would always be there. Until...
Harry felt a burning sensation behind his eyes and he forced himself to shift his thoughts. It was nearly nine thirty and he knew he needed to be leaving soon lest he miss the train. For a second, he sat on the edge of his bed and weighed his choices. Stay at the Dursleys' and face abuse and hell; or go to Hogwarts and face a reality.
Disgusted with himself for even thinking about it, Harry grabbed his full trunk with one hand and balanced Hedwig's cage on top with the other and started down the stairs. The Dursleys, he discovered, were already waiting impatiently in the car, clearly more eager than ever to be rid of him. Strange though it was, Harry's silence over the holidays had annoyed them immensely. Every day they suspected he was up to something magical, which, in their eyes, was as bad as plotting murder. Any other time Harry would have found all of this very amusing. But nothing was funny for him anymore.
"Hurry up, boy!" Vernon Dursley shouted, sticking his head out of the driver's side window. "You're lucky we're even taking you!"
Harry didn't feel very lucky. He knew why they were taking him. They were afraid that if they didn't, he'd find some other way there, with the help of others like him. Namely, wizards. Harry hadn't bothered to tell them that he'd avoided "his kind" as best as he could the entire summer and they didn't know any better. Hermione had telephoned once, much to Uncle Vernon's dislike. Granted, she, unlike Ron, had known the proper way to behave on a telephone, but this still hadn't satisfied Uncle Vernon. The fact that she had asked for Harry had raised immediate suspicion. He had to hand it to her though, she'd done it in a most clever fashion.
"Harry Potter?" Uncle Vernon had asked sharply after answering the phone. "What do you want with him?"
Harry had looked up from the table at the sound of his name. Uncle Vernon was glaring at him as the caller said something.
"A radio station, you say?" he'd boomed into the phone. "Won a contest? No, no, you must be mistaken. We don't-"
He'd apparently been cut off by the caller and his face grew red, as he took it very offensively whenever someone interrupted him. Harry, however, had grown quite curious by now and gestured for Uncle Vernon to hand him the phone. His uncle had gripped the phone tighter and gave Harry a menacing look.
"I'm sorry, but-" Uncle Vernon stopped mid-sentence. "Wait, what did you say he's won?"
The entire Dursley family and Harry were silent as Uncle Vernon waited for his answer, most likely hoping it were some sort of lawn decoration. A disappointed look fell on his face.
"A bicycle?" he exclaimed, shooting Harry another look. "What use do I have for a ruddy bicycle? No, you have the wrong number. There is no Harry Potter here. Please don't call again. Goodbye!"
He hung up and advanced toward Harry. Dudley wore a proud smirk as he went back to eating and Aunt Petunia hurried to remove her chocolate chip cookies from the oven.
"So," Uncle Vernon said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Thought you'd get away with it, did you? Didn't think we'd find out? You didn't expect this Hermione Granger woman to call, did you? Never thought you'd actually win?"
"Um, what?" Harry had asked, bewildered and surprised at them mention of his friend's name.
"You must have done it while we were at Dudley's match last week," Uncle Vernon continued. "Seems you didn't remain in your room the whole time, like you told us. Seems you snuck into Dudley's room and USED HIS RADIO!"
"I knew it!" Dudley yelled in triumph, jumping up from his seat in a quite unpleasant manner. "I knew my room smelled funny when I returned!"
"Only because you smell like pig dung every time you finish a match," Harry shot back. Dudley glared at him.
"SHUT IT!" Uncle Vernon had shouted, and proceeded to rant and rave the rest of the night. Harry managed a grin as he remembered this. Hermione had tried her best and he had actually felt a stab of guilt for replying to her last letter with a simple "I'm fine. Been busy with homework. Haven't gotten my O.W.L. results yet. See you soon." He had, in fact, received the results of his O.W.L. examinations; he just hadn't bothered to open them. At this very moment, they were buried at the bottom of his trunk.
"ARE YOU DEAF?" Uncle Vernon shouted, startling Harry out of his thoughts. "Get in!"
Throwing his things in the trunk of the car, Harry hurriedly opened the back door and slid in next to Dudley, who took up more than his share of the seat. He glared at Harry and muttered something about being late to his match. Harry shook his head and gazed out the window as Uncle Vernon sped off. Despite his previous thoughts, he surely wasn't going to miss the Dursleys.