Lightning-Dono - Read...

He was striding down the desolate corridors one day, surveying the tiled floor that was cleaner than ever, due to the many house elves who had put much work into tidying up the school. His eyes were downcast and hair more ruffled than ever. Beneath the veil of hair that shrouded his forehead was a lightning-shaped scar that made it's way down to his eyebrow.

"Harry!" A red-headed boy ran up to him, his robes billowing out from around his legs as he ran. Harry slowed his pacing to allow his friend to catch up. "Harry!" He panted. "Why aren't you in class?"

Harry led the way towards the Gryffindor common room. No one, not even Ron, could make him tell what he had been doing, wandering in the halls like that. But as he continued to brood over the memories of his past, Ron decided to puncture the silent moment.

"So, what were you doing?" He asked, looking around quickly, as though expecting Professor Snape to pop out of no where.

"Thinking," Harry snapped, retreating to a comfy chair that was by the fire. Ron gave him an odd look and settled down into his designated chair, sighing very loudly until Harry gave in due to irritation.

"Look, I was thinking about my past with the Dursley's," he muttered, slumping forwards in his chair.

Ron drew himself up to full height (as full as he could sitting down) and let his Head Boy badge shine brilliantly. "That's no reason to be wandering the corridors during class," he said in a somewhat 'superior' voice.

"Then what were you doing in the halls?" Harry asked nastily, getting tired of talking to Ron and Hermione about every single thing in his life.

The boy shifted uncomfortably and stuck out his index finger. "Stupid Pig nearly beaked off my finger."

Harry nodded absent-mindedly and watched his friend nurse his finger carefully with a small strip of bandage.

"What makes you think about them for?" Ron inquired, concentrating very hard on his finger as though each wrong movement could be death-rendering.

"Well, it starts like this. I was thinking about summer, and then I thought about how the Dursley's treated me over the years, and it all adds up to this." Harry gave a careless shrug, relaxing his shoulders considerably and leaning back in the chair. Ron's eyes brightened, like this was best news in the world.

"Can you still remember things from when you were...say, two-years old?" He asked excitedly, leaning towards Harry. Harry nodded, flattening his hair nervously.

"I have a good memory, I guess," he admitted without much interest, hoping that he didn't have to explain his whole history to Ron. He was worried enough about Professor McGonagall appearing out of no where through the portrait hole and condemning them to horrid detentions.

"Can you tell me some?" Ron was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. Harry thought it was unfair that Hermione wouldn't get the chance to hear them, but he didn't think she couldn't accept the fact that a Prefect was getting off of classes to have story time.

"Well, it all began..."

Okay, well, I'll continue it!