Harry couldn't believe it. Finally the day he'd been waiting for all of his life had arrived. Sirius Black would come and "rescue" him from the Dursley home in one week. Although it had taken more than two years for Sirius to clear his name, steadily he with the help of Professor Dumbledore (Who was recently made the Minister of Magic.),And other members of The Order he claimed a spot as one of the Greatest, most respected wizards out there. Harry was always proud to call him his God-Father and soon he would be able to call him his father. See Sirius was thinking of adopting Harry as his own, as he would've 15 years earlier when Harry's parents died, and Harry had no problem with that. Nevertheless, even that wasn't the best part, Sirius had gotten a house that was near his best friend Ron Weasley's house and it wasn't far from Hermione's House either. Also with Dumbledore heading The Ministry, he offered Sirius a job working right under him. Which had some people (Mainly Lucius "Sexy" Malfoy) bent out of shape (Not to say that he always wasn't). But Sirius didn't want something too extravagant, In fact he wanted to learn about Muggles seeing as while in the process of clearing his name (A.K.A. on the run) He'd become quite smitten with a Muggle woman and wanted to know more about them. Harry promised to tell all he knew about the Muggles having lived (if you could call it that) with three of the most horrible ones for his life thus far.

The only people who were more excited than Harry were the Dursleys, Harry's horsey faced Aunt Petunia (who looked nothing like his mother), His seemingly always magenta faced, morbidly obese Uncle Vernon and their disgustingly ugly offspring Dudley, Harry's (Not by choice) only cousin, were ecstatic that they'd once again be a family of three. At one point his frail aunt Petunia offered to help him pack. Of course he declined, wanting nothing more to do with the people who ok took him in but kept him in the crawlspace under the stairs for the first eleven years of his life. No one more did he want to get away from than his uncle Vernon. Who like clockwork every night, since he was four years old would come to "Visit" Harry. When Harry went off to Hogwarts upon his return for holidays (which Vernon insisted on him coming back) and summer vacation, Vernon would make sure to tell his nephew just how much he "Missed" him . . . in his own special way of course.

Harry rolled over and placed the letter neatly back on the night-stand and tried not to think about the Dursley home anymore. In one week, just one he'd be gone to live with his God-Father, the man who knew his parents best, did his damndest to avenge their premature death, and would now do his duty to them and himself by taking in their only son. Yet excitement gave way to anxiety. What if Sirius wasn't ready to become a father figure after all of those un lived years spent in Azkaban prison? . What if suddenly he didn't want him anymore? . Would he have to come bak to the Dursleys? . What would he do if they didn't take him back? . All of his questions weren't helped by the fact that it was already 12:30 A.M.. Yet somewhere between that time Harry found sleep and before he knew it he was brought right back out if it, As the many locks unlocked in came his massive Uncle. He was probably twice (Maybe three) times the size of Harry who was always small for his age. Vernon waddled over to his bedside and lied a heavy hit, with his massive paw, on the back of his head jerking him out of what seemed like the only peaceful sleep he'd ever had in that house.

"Huh?!" Harry sputtered nervously. He was shaking uncontrollably having been awoken that way.

Vernon pulled the blankets off of the thin now 16 year old. His birthday having been three days prior

"Let's get this over with" The large man said in a gruff hushed tone. Though Harry knew that Aunt Petunia and Dudley knew and had always known.

The cold air nipped at his exposed skin as he slowly removed the Pajama pants and boxers he wore

"On your knees then" Vernon ordered ripping the tank top he wore from his body

Harry did as he was told. He always did as he was told. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to think of happy thoughts. (Though he had very few of those)

"This will be over soon" He thought "A Week will be here in no time"

He tried to think of his parents, Of his girlfriend Hermione, Of his best friend Ron, Of Quidditch of anything but the pain and degradation he felt. If he could get rid of Dementors, he could get through this . . .

It was over in about an hour, Much longer than any other time. He figured he wanted it to be as long and painful as possible. . . . Which he succeeded in doing. Still on the floor exposed and in pain he heard the floorboard's creek as the large man made his way to the door without so much as a look at the strewn teen. Slowly Harry got up off of the floor. His body was aching and he'd only gotten into his boxers before Vernon came back with some cold leftovers (This was the only food presented to him this week. While at the Dursley home he was lucky if he was fed once a week), Set it on the Night-stand (on top of Sirius's letter) and walked (Make that waddled) back to the door again. Standing with his back turned to the young man he snorted.

"That man won't keep you for long and before you know it . . . You'll be right back here."

"That's. Not. True." Harry growled through clenched teeth

Without another word he closed the door. Locking all six of the locks that left Harry stranded there . . . alone. He pulled back on the strewn pajama pants and took the ripped tank top into his hands (Sirius had sent him some clothes seeing as he was growing. Fast. One look at the disgusting food sent him into the bathroom Vernon had built into the room so Harry would never have to leave the room. He threw up what was inside of him (Which was mostly water). He felt disgusting. He always did. Furiously he tore off the clothes he wore and got into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go. He tried to scrub way the filth, Which after twelve years was now embedded in his skin. Frustrated, tired, weak, angry and now with his skin rubbed raw he exited the shower feeling beaten. He sullen heartedly changed the linen on his tiny twin bed, which he''d outgrown a long time ago, pulled his knees up to his chest and just cried with reckless abandon. The hurt, the pain, The shame he felt just becoming too much for him . . . Usually his nights ended like this one, wrapped in the blanket sent to him by Hermione. Most of the times he cried himself to sleep but this time on his lips were words of encouragement and hope

"Six more days" He told himself "Just six"