He ran through the dark corridor, the candles hanging on the wall giving off a cold blue mist that surrounded him making it hard to breathe. He could hear the cold, sickeningly high, pitched laughter of Voldemort ringing in his ears. He heard Sirius up ahead calling for his help. He kept running and running, but the corridor never stopped. It just kept winding in front of him, taunting him; torturing him; telling him that hell never get there on time. Suddenly the wall came, a door in the center. He reached out panting, holding the stitch in his chest, and grabbed the fading golden handle. He retched the door open and saw it in front of him. The haunting images that played before him night after night. He stood frozen his face contorted in failure, pain and utter hopelessness.

He watched his mother staring at him through cold, unforgiving lifeless eyes. Her eyes were shedding blackened blood red tears. Her face twisted in abhorrence and malice. Her blue moldy lips were wide in an ear-piercing scream. He watched his father look at him hatefully. His bright blue eyes dead and dark.

"You are no son of mine. I should have let Voldemort kill you. At least Lily and me would be alive. I hate you, you fucking bastard. You deserve to die."

He saw Cedric staring at the wall. His face held only disgust and loathing. He was cursing Harry. Every word that was spat out of his mouth was cold and unforgiving towards him. He watched as his godfather stared to his own dead body that was laying past him through a fluttering shabby, gray veil, yelling toward Harry, his face holding only repulsion and anger .

"How could you do this to me Harry?? I loved you like a son and you killed me!! You stood there and watched you ungrateful little shit. Fuck you Harry. You son of a bitch, you shouldn't even be alive. I'm glad James and Lily died so they wouldn't have to be around to have a son like you. You are more dead to me than they are."

I'm sorry." Harry choked repeatedly and slid along the doorframe down to the floor. He sat there on the floor rocking back and forth. Voldemort was laughing at him his parents rejecting him, Cedric cursing him, and Sirius was insulting him. In a flash of bright green light Harry looked up, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. All he saw was his godfathers body arching backwards toward the veil and —--

Harry shot up from his spot on the ground. His body covered in a cold salty sweat. He was panting as if he had just run the long almost endless corridor that had been in his dream. He brought his fingers up to his forehead and rubbed the thin lightning bolt, shaped scar. It throbbed and ached between his fingers. Tears were burning behind his eyes and he blinked repeatedly to try and stop them from coming, but they just fell from his eyes. He brought his knees up and hugged them into his chest and sobbed quietly until there were no tears in his eyes left to shed. He stayed unknowing of the world around him for an hour. He was brought back to reality when a breeze floated past him nipping at his arms, making them shiver. He looked up from his stupor and looked about him. The sky was dark and he was sure it was well after midnight and his Uncle Vernon would give him hell the next morning. But Harry didn't really care about it. He didn't care about much of anything anymore.

Ever since he had arrived at Privet Drive that summer, the raven-haired boy had shut every one out. He could only focus on the worst occurrences in his head. It was enough last year when Cedric had died, but now that Sirius was gone, he sank even lower in to his dark pit of despair and vindictive desolation. His heart would forever ache in his chest. Harry felt like Sirius still falling. Every time he closed his eyes he would see Sirius' and the swish of the veil as it fell into place.

As another breeze blew past, the dark-haired boy rubbed his arms. He felt a dull pain as his rough callus hands slid over the long yawning gashes on his forearms. But it didn't really feel like pain anymore… it was just a feeling. He gathered from a young age that pain only got you hurt more, so he taught himself to ignore it the best that he could. Ignoring the pain had always worked so well for him. But When Sirius left, he lost that. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He knew that he should have just listened to Hermione and Ron and ignored the visions that Voldemort fed to him. He should have worked harder to do what Snape had demanded of him to do with Oculemancy, and swallowed his stupid pride.

He got up off the ground and started to walk back to Number 4. He hated being with his aunt and uncle who hated him and treated him like less of a human being. He crossed over the front lawn and peered into the front window. There was no one inside and all the lights were turned off. He ambled over to the back yard and scaled the drainpipe. He put his fingers in the crack he left in the window and pulled up. He climbed in and fell with a soft thud to the floor. He walked over to his bed and sat down. He took his shoes off and lay down without thought of taking off his clothes and changing into his pajamas. He took his glasses off and closed his eyes, but he didn't go to sleep. He didn't sleep much anymore anyway. He never wanted to. Cause in his dreams he would be plagues with images of Sirius.

Hedwig hooted softly from her perch and Harry snapped out of his reflections. He looked at his beautiful snowy white owl fondly. He got up and sat on his desk chair. He opened her cage and stroked her feathers lovingly. He opened his desk drawer, pushed past the unopened letters he had received, and pulled out and owl treat. He gave it to her and she ate it thankfully. He started at Hedwig for a few minutes before lying back down on his bed. He put his arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He thought for a few minutes on what he would do tomorrow before he rolled over on to his side and looked at the clock. 3:47, it read in bold red letters. He closed his eyes and let the blissful black oblivion of sleep take him, knowing that his uncle would give him extra chores tomorrow for his lateness in coming in.

He woke up the next morning to someone shaking him roughly. He opened his eyes and the ugly pink pudgy face of his uncle Vernon came into view.

"Get up now boy!" He snapped exiting the room, now that Harry was awake.

Harry was thankful that for the first time he didn't have any dreams while he slept. He looked at the clock, 9:24. He got up and dressed groggily, then sluggishly walked down the steps. As soon as he entered the Kitchen his Uncle rounded on him. He gave Harry a hard punch to the head and the raven-haired boy fell to the ground.

"The least those freak people of yours could do is teach you manners." He hissed at Harry.

He kicked Harry in the ribs and then picked him up off the ground. He dragged Harry over to the back door and threw him outside.

"Dudley's friends are coming over Saturday. I want everything perfect. After you finish up outside, then you'll clean everything inside. Understood?"

He didn't even wait for any acknowledgement from Harry; he just went inside shutting the door behind him.

The dark-haired boy walked to the small shed in the back of the yard, shed his oversized gray shirt, got out the tools he needed and started working. After four long hours, he had finished gardening and the lawn care, and trudged back to the garden shed, returning all the tools to their proper places. He leaned on the doorway for a moment before he headed back inside, not bothering to put the shirt back on his dirt and sweat covered back. All three of the Dursley's were sitting at the kitchen table, a torn envelope was sitting in the center of the table and a thick piece of parchment was lying in front of his uncle. All three of them were looking smug about something. Uncle Vernon was smirking at him in a very superior manner and Harry debated hexing the man into unconsciousness, but he decided that he didn't want to face another disciplinary hearing because of his uncle. Harry merely folded his dirty arms around his naked torso and waited for the next blow to fall.

"This letter just arrived for you from your Headmaster." His uncle said, a mad sort of triumph in his tone.

Harry picked up the letter and read it.

Dear Harry,

I am sorry to say this but this is the only letter you shall receive for the rest of the summer. I am afraid Voldemort has gotten word somehow, of the general location of your aunt's residence. Therefore, we cannot communicate with you until we manage a safe place and time for you to be brought within our care. But until then it is of the utmost importance to break all ties with you. This means that you cannot contact anyone in the wizarding world until we come and collect you. I cannot emphasize to you the danger of the situation. You must remain within the property of your Aunts house, and you are for no reason besides the most important ones to use any magic at anytime or you will be found. I trust that you understand the situation that lay out in front of us.

Remember that I will come and get you when the time is right.

Albus Dumbledore.

"Looks like those freak friends of yours don't care what happens to you as much as we do." his uncle sneered at him. "And now we can do what we see fit you teach you some manners. Now eat your lunch, then go and clean up the house, then clean yourself up."

"Yes Uncle Vernon." Harry muffled back.

Harry sat at the edge of the chair and ate bread and cheese. He swallowed his glass of water in one breath and finished his small piece of ham. He walked over to the closet full of cleaning supplies and got out the necessary equipment and began his long tedious task. The house was always sickeningly clean. If fact, he felt like being in the kitchen was like being in a smaller version of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Harry knew he was being punished, so he kept his mouth shut so he wouldn't have to work longer. In about two hours and ten minutes the downstairs was finished. He made sure his Aunt felt that everything was the way she wanted it. She checked, double checked and perfected Harry's cleaning mistakes (even though there weren't any.) and then let him go upstairs to clean.

The upstairs to almost three and a half hours to complete. After about 20 minutes of complaining from Dudley about letting 'that freak' into his room, his aunt persuaded him that having Harry clean it was better then making him clean it. It took an hour and twenty minutes to clean Dudley's room alone. The other two rooms, and the bathroom were simple compared to the whale child's room. The raven haired boy didn't understand how someone that size could fit in there with all that stuff thrown about like a tornado had crashed through it. His Aunt Petunia watched him like a hawk when he cleaned Her and uncle Vernon's room and their son's room. For some reason maybe she thought that Harry wanted to steal something.

'If I ever get psychotic enough to get the urge,' Harry thought to himself.

When his aunt finally let him go, Harry went outside and sat in the back corner of the property, that was sheltered by thick jade bushes. He rested his head on the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes. His body ached all over from the effort he put forth on the long job he just finished. His stomach growled from the lack of food he'd received around 1. He thought about his friends as he sat there cooling down in the shade. He wondered what everyone at the Burrow was doing, and if Hermione was with them. She and Ron had gotten really close the last few weeks of school, and Harry wondered if they had gotten together yet. He had already though about it for the past few weeks since school got out sitting alone in his room. He felt cool about the idea in the beginning. After all they were just normal teenagers who wanted to be happy. Afterward, he just felt mad at them. They were abandoning him and their friendship for each other, leaving Harry alone by himself again. It wasn't fair, but nothing had ever been fair for Harry. He had been miserable all his life. When he turned 11, he though that was over. He had finally met people who like being around him for him. But since his 4th year, he felt like that was all slowly slipping away from him. And since a month ago it was gone completely. He had known since about 3rd. year, that Dumbledore never really cared about or liked him. Harry was just some weapon that he had to keep from Voldemort. He was just everyone's way out that they could step all over, and then throw away when they were done. Harry sat under the tree thinking until the sun started to set. He got up and went inside. His relatives were gone out to dinner, and had left a note telling him to eat his dinner and go to bed. He got the small plate of food from the refrigerator and ate it quickly. He climbed the creaky stairs and went into the bathroom. He took a fast shower and went to his room. He dressed for bed and lie down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Sleep took him early that night and his dreams of Sirius haunted him again.