Chapter 2: Why won't you leave me alone?
First of all, some author's notes!
I want to thank everyone who has reviewed my story and gave me such nice critics, I really enjoyed it and motivated me to continue with the story! Thanks to you all! =^__^=
As for the updates, I will try and update regularly every weekend, and if I find the time, even during the week, but I have some exams at the moment, so I'm really a little busy at the time. But I'll try and update regularly, for I know how unnerving it is when the author doesn't update for a few weeks or so.
~ are for the thoughts, // are whenever something is quoted!
Anyway, enough talking, here comes the new chapter! R&R and most of all, enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry barely slept that night. The last day had been horrible. Sometime about afternoon, Petunia had come up to his room and asked him politely, yet somewhat strained, to come down in the garden and have something to eat. Harry had been tempted to decline, but the stern expression in his aunt's face showed him that it had cost her a lot of fidgeting to even come up and ask him.
Sighing, the raven-haired boy stood up and went down to eat something from the small barbecue party, at least, what Dudley and his friends had left for him. He idly noticed that Dudley and his friends were nowhere to be seen and, somewhat sarcastically, he thought: "Of course. They couldn't let me out if there would be any chance that someone might see me, the poor little freak."
All in all, his mood hadn't been heightened, which obviously had been Petunia's intention. Just as he started wondering about his aunt's strange behaviour towards him, he suddenly remembered the letter Dumbledore had spoken of and the howler he had sent her last summer. He snorted.
~I should have known she wouldn't have been nice towards me out of her own decision. She's only friendly because she has to be. I mean, who would be nice towards someone who has killed his own godfather?~
Even though Harry knew, he hadn't killed his godfather with his own hands, he knew for sure that he was the one whose fault it was. Fate is strange, he mused, he had run to the ministry to prevent Voldemort from killing his godfather and by doing so, he had made the real thing to happen. Harry buried his face in his hands; he felt completely useless for everyone, he knew he'd have to kill Voldemort one day or get killed while trying to, but he also knew it'd take the lifes of many other people in the progress. Lifes which he knew, would also be at his responsibility.
While he had again been dwelling on his thoughts, twilight had fallen and after Petunia had come ouside looking for him, he finally snapped out of his stupor and went up into his room with a mumbled "Goodnight" to his aunt.
Back in his small room, the first thing Harry had done had been to throw himself onto his bed and grab Padfoot to snuggle up against him. He closed his eyes; if he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine that the fur of the plush dog was the fur of the "real" Padfoot and that he was currently lying next to his body on his bed.
But over the day, his room had gotten rather hot and Harry just couldn't find any sleep. He tossed and turned around, in the process wrinkling the sheets on his bed. Finally, he gave up and just continued staring at the ceiling, all the while absently stroking Padfoot with his thumb. As everytime, when he was alone in his dark room and alone with his thoughts and nothing to distract him, he unintenionally started reliving the memories of Sirius, Sirius coming to rescue him, Sirius fighting with the Death Eaters and finally, inevitably, Sirius falling trough the archway and just... dying.
Harry shuddered, he felt tears forming again in his eyes. "No!" he softly said to himself, "I'm not going to cry again. I don't want to cry again." But his body didn't seem to be under his control anymore; he felt the tears flowing freely from his eyes and he could do nothing but surrender to the sadness that engulfed him like a cold blanket, just like it had done many times before. On and on it went, until he fell into a restless sleep at last.
***
Harry was awoken the next morning by his cousin Dudley, who apparently told him that breakfast was ready, although Harry could only guess at that for he hadn't exactly been paying attention. Almost as fast as he had come, Dudley had disappeared out of his room. Grumpily, Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glared disapprovingly at the curtains which had been drawn by someone, letting the moring sun shine merrily into his bedroom.
After having put on his glasses, Harry reluctantly got up and started changing into Dudley's old rags he was still forced to wear. On his way out of his chamber, he forcefully drew the curtains shut and made his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and splashed some water in his face to make the remnants of sleep go away. In the end, he finally got down into the kitchen and sat down at the table where Dudley and Vernon were already sitting and eating their breakfast.
Vernon shot the approaching boy a menacing glare. He'd never get used to treating the boy nicely so he just kept ignoring him; however, this plan sometimes failed whenever he was forced to see Harry at the breakfast table. The fact that his day just *had* to start every time with looking at the person he hated so much he'd rather kick him out and never worry about him again, angered him beyond reason. But since Petunia had gotten that strange letter... he wasn't very pleased with his wife's decision to keep the boy under their roof, but as he didn't dare to anger Petunia, he tried to force himself to avoid the boy as much as he could.
To say the least, Harry was just as happy with the morning meeting as his uncle himself. He was still a bit shaken from last night and the fresh memories of Sirius, which seemd to cut deeper and deeper into his already wounded soul. He doubted it would ever heal again and the prospect of having to live was just dreadful to the depressed boy. As nobody wanted to speak a word, which was just fine with Harry, breakfast passed by in slow blur in which Harry barely noticed what he was eating.
When Petunia finally started taking the dishes away, all Harry wanted to do was to go up into his room and lay down for the rest of the day, as he had done before. He couldn't believe it had just been a week at the Dursleys and he still had seven more left. Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"So, are you just going to hide and leave all the work for your poor aunt? I would have thought you had more decency after all these years. But I don't suppose such things as manners are common behaviour among people of your.. your.. kind."
The last sentences were spoken with a touch of hidden malice in it; and Harry wasn't in the fit state to even try and counter to this. But that just seemed to stir Vernon's anger further.
"DAMMIT, GET A MOVE ON YOU USELESS LITTLE...!!"
"VERNON!!!"
This had come from aunt Petunia who was watching not Vernon, but Harry, who had shrunken back into the fridge and was staring at his uncle with something akin to panic. Startled, Vernon looked at his wife; after a seemingly endless, awkward pause, he turned and without another word, he walked into the living room. Petunia sighed and turned to Harry: "Go up now, boy. I'll manage this, it's alright."
Harry gulped and made his way out of the kitchen, but just as he had reached out to turn the door knob, he felt a sudden sickness rise in his throat. Hastily, he dashed towards the bathroom and made it just in time to the toilet before he began to vomit violently. After this, he was feeling slightly dizzy and felt himself breaking out in cold sweat. He wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet; moving over to the sink he looked into the mirror and was shocked to see a pale face looking back at him.
He flinched slightly as he touched his face. It was even paler than it had been naturally, but there were also dark rings under his eyes, a clear sign for the lack of sleep he had had, with his eyes dull and empty.
Abruptly, he turned away and walked into his room; he didn't want to think about his present condition. Somewhere deep inside of him, he felt he didn't deserve to be cared about, his uncle had been right; he was just useless and only a burden for...
His toughts were interrupted quite rudely as a barn owl flew into his room, having a letter attached to its leg. Harry went over and grabbed the letter from it and the owl flew away again. The letter looked rather officially, but it had no sign that it came from either Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic. Frowning, he ripped the letter open.
"Dear Harry,
I wish to inform you that the Order has immediate need of you here at the headquarters.
As you now know the phrophecy, you will have to be prepared for the upcoming confrontation. That is why you will be brought to the headquarters of the Order to be trained in everything that will help you in the war which has now broken out.
In three days, a member of the order will come and bring you here, though I'm not able to give you the exact time. Be ready to leave and try not to forget anything as the things you will learn here are essential not only for your own sake but for that of the whole world as well.
We will meet soon. Until then, try and enjoy your free time.
Signed, Albus Dumbledore"
To say Harry was a bit upset after this letter, was understated. Harry was fuming. He reread the letter again and again as though the content might change if he did it often enough. What was that old fool playing at? "Try and enjoy your free time!" Sure, Harry just would have a jolly good time after having lost Sirius, never mind that. And of course, he would just act as if nothing had happened and just go and learn obediently after Dumbledore's instructions.
He was so furious about Dumbledore's letter he didn't notice the second owl until it poked him on the arm. Irritated, he turned around and snatched the letter away from it; after the owl had left, he ripped the second letter open and noticed it was from Remus:
"I know this will come quite as a surprise for you Harry, but I will come straight to the point. I have been reading your letters you sent to us and I can't shake off the feeling that something is horribly wrong.
I know I can't and I won't expect you to just be happy again after Sirius's death but your letters seem to have a sense of such deep pain attached to it that I'm greatly worried about you. I wanted to visit you but Dumbledore wouldn't let me because it's too dangerous at the moment. I know he's right about that, but I'd really like to meet with you sooner than in three days.
But seeing as that's not possible, I beg you not to do something stupid as I fear you might do. We will meet in three days and we will be able to talk things over as we hadn't had the time for that after you left for the summer.
With best wishes, Remus
P.S.: I have enclosed something for you in the letter I found yesterday when I was looking trough some old things of mine. I hope it'll make you feel a bit better, or as someone can be given the circumstances."
After he was finished with reading, Harry searched trough the envelope again and found a photograph. He turned it around and found himself staring at a picture from Sirius; Sirius how he was sitting on his flying motorcycle. Sirius looked very young on the picture, he seemed to be barely older than eighteen. Apparently, he had just bought the motorcycle. His hair was blewn back by the wind and he was sitting on his bike, smiling happily and waving at him.
Harry slowly sank down onto his bed; he had never seen Sirius look so beautiful and happy. But of course, this had been the time before his best friends were killed and he was accused of being a murderer. Suddenly, Harry felt close to tears again; he had realized that from now on, pictures of Sirius would be all that he had now, just as it was with his parents.
He didn't want to learn anything for DADA at the Order of the Phoenix, he didn't want to fight against Voldemort; hell, he didn't even want to speak with Remus at the moment. Why couldn't they understand him? Harry sniffed softly and stood up, walking over to where Hermione's early birthday present for him was placed. She had sent him a portable CD-Player together with best wishes from her parents and Ron as well; they had also enclosed a CD with music themes from a movie which had been in the cinema, the name of the movie was "Spirit".
Although he didn't know the movie, he liked the music very much, his favourite one was "Sound the bugle" for it seemed to fit his mood perfectly, though he didn't really count the last part of it. In fact, he tought of it as rather ironical. He turned the player on and switched to his favourite song and soon, the tune of it could be heard in his room.
//Sound the bugle now, play it just for me As the seasons change, remember how I used to be Now I can't go on, I can't even start I've got nothing left, just an empty heart
I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight There's nothing more for me, lead me away Or leave me lying here//
Harry had already went and turned off the lights; he walked over to his bed and due to the depressing sound of the music, he was quickly crying again with Padfoot clutched to his chest. He had involuntarily rolled up into a fetal position, his body shaken from small tremors.
//Sound the bugle now, tell them I don't care There's not a road I know, that leads to anywhere Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark Lay right down, decide not to go on//
After this, Harry quickly drifted off to sleep, whishing that everybody would just leave him alone and never speak to him again.
***
Sirius was getting rather frustrated. He had been walking for an eternity now and the great tree hadn't come much closer since he had started walking. Then it hit him; why hadn't he tought about that earlier?
He quickly changed into Padfoot and started running at a fast but steady pace, though he kept glancing left and right for any danger that might approach so he'd be able to defend himself if the need for it would appear. But nothing happened. The whole scenery around him just seemed to be dead, though it didn't lessen his amount of his watchfulness.
As he was running lonely across the great plain, his thoughts kept drifting off to Harry. What was he doing right now? How did he feel? Were those Dursleys treating him good? What was he doing without him now? What happened to those Death Eaters and Voldemort?
Those and similar thoughts ran trough Padfoot's mind as he was now getting closer and closer to his destination.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: I don't own the song from "Spirit", it belongs to Brian Adams and Dreamworks Pictures and I don't make any money out of it!
Do the summer holidays last eight weeks in England? I didn't really know so I asked my mother. If there are mistakes with that please tell me, it's rather important for my story for I have already planned the timing of the events happening to our favourite wizards! ^.^
First of all, some author's notes!
I want to thank everyone who has reviewed my story and gave me such nice critics, I really enjoyed it and motivated me to continue with the story! Thanks to you all! =^__^=
As for the updates, I will try and update regularly every weekend, and if I find the time, even during the week, but I have some exams at the moment, so I'm really a little busy at the time. But I'll try and update regularly, for I know how unnerving it is when the author doesn't update for a few weeks or so.
~ are for the thoughts, // are whenever something is quoted!
Anyway, enough talking, here comes the new chapter! R&R and most of all, enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry barely slept that night. The last day had been horrible. Sometime about afternoon, Petunia had come up to his room and asked him politely, yet somewhat strained, to come down in the garden and have something to eat. Harry had been tempted to decline, but the stern expression in his aunt's face showed him that it had cost her a lot of fidgeting to even come up and ask him.
Sighing, the raven-haired boy stood up and went down to eat something from the small barbecue party, at least, what Dudley and his friends had left for him. He idly noticed that Dudley and his friends were nowhere to be seen and, somewhat sarcastically, he thought: "Of course. They couldn't let me out if there would be any chance that someone might see me, the poor little freak."
All in all, his mood hadn't been heightened, which obviously had been Petunia's intention. Just as he started wondering about his aunt's strange behaviour towards him, he suddenly remembered the letter Dumbledore had spoken of and the howler he had sent her last summer. He snorted.
~I should have known she wouldn't have been nice towards me out of her own decision. She's only friendly because she has to be. I mean, who would be nice towards someone who has killed his own godfather?~
Even though Harry knew, he hadn't killed his godfather with his own hands, he knew for sure that he was the one whose fault it was. Fate is strange, he mused, he had run to the ministry to prevent Voldemort from killing his godfather and by doing so, he had made the real thing to happen. Harry buried his face in his hands; he felt completely useless for everyone, he knew he'd have to kill Voldemort one day or get killed while trying to, but he also knew it'd take the lifes of many other people in the progress. Lifes which he knew, would also be at his responsibility.
While he had again been dwelling on his thoughts, twilight had fallen and after Petunia had come ouside looking for him, he finally snapped out of his stupor and went up into his room with a mumbled "Goodnight" to his aunt.
Back in his small room, the first thing Harry had done had been to throw himself onto his bed and grab Padfoot to snuggle up against him. He closed his eyes; if he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine that the fur of the plush dog was the fur of the "real" Padfoot and that he was currently lying next to his body on his bed.
But over the day, his room had gotten rather hot and Harry just couldn't find any sleep. He tossed and turned around, in the process wrinkling the sheets on his bed. Finally, he gave up and just continued staring at the ceiling, all the while absently stroking Padfoot with his thumb. As everytime, when he was alone in his dark room and alone with his thoughts and nothing to distract him, he unintenionally started reliving the memories of Sirius, Sirius coming to rescue him, Sirius fighting with the Death Eaters and finally, inevitably, Sirius falling trough the archway and just... dying.
Harry shuddered, he felt tears forming again in his eyes. "No!" he softly said to himself, "I'm not going to cry again. I don't want to cry again." But his body didn't seem to be under his control anymore; he felt the tears flowing freely from his eyes and he could do nothing but surrender to the sadness that engulfed him like a cold blanket, just like it had done many times before. On and on it went, until he fell into a restless sleep at last.
***
Harry was awoken the next morning by his cousin Dudley, who apparently told him that breakfast was ready, although Harry could only guess at that for he hadn't exactly been paying attention. Almost as fast as he had come, Dudley had disappeared out of his room. Grumpily, Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glared disapprovingly at the curtains which had been drawn by someone, letting the moring sun shine merrily into his bedroom.
After having put on his glasses, Harry reluctantly got up and started changing into Dudley's old rags he was still forced to wear. On his way out of his chamber, he forcefully drew the curtains shut and made his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and splashed some water in his face to make the remnants of sleep go away. In the end, he finally got down into the kitchen and sat down at the table where Dudley and Vernon were already sitting and eating their breakfast.
Vernon shot the approaching boy a menacing glare. He'd never get used to treating the boy nicely so he just kept ignoring him; however, this plan sometimes failed whenever he was forced to see Harry at the breakfast table. The fact that his day just *had* to start every time with looking at the person he hated so much he'd rather kick him out and never worry about him again, angered him beyond reason. But since Petunia had gotten that strange letter... he wasn't very pleased with his wife's decision to keep the boy under their roof, but as he didn't dare to anger Petunia, he tried to force himself to avoid the boy as much as he could.
To say the least, Harry was just as happy with the morning meeting as his uncle himself. He was still a bit shaken from last night and the fresh memories of Sirius, which seemd to cut deeper and deeper into his already wounded soul. He doubted it would ever heal again and the prospect of having to live was just dreadful to the depressed boy. As nobody wanted to speak a word, which was just fine with Harry, breakfast passed by in slow blur in which Harry barely noticed what he was eating.
When Petunia finally started taking the dishes away, all Harry wanted to do was to go up into his room and lay down for the rest of the day, as he had done before. He couldn't believe it had just been a week at the Dursleys and he still had seven more left. Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"So, are you just going to hide and leave all the work for your poor aunt? I would have thought you had more decency after all these years. But I don't suppose such things as manners are common behaviour among people of your.. your.. kind."
The last sentences were spoken with a touch of hidden malice in it; and Harry wasn't in the fit state to even try and counter to this. But that just seemed to stir Vernon's anger further.
"DAMMIT, GET A MOVE ON YOU USELESS LITTLE...!!"
"VERNON!!!"
This had come from aunt Petunia who was watching not Vernon, but Harry, who had shrunken back into the fridge and was staring at his uncle with something akin to panic. Startled, Vernon looked at his wife; after a seemingly endless, awkward pause, he turned and without another word, he walked into the living room. Petunia sighed and turned to Harry: "Go up now, boy. I'll manage this, it's alright."
Harry gulped and made his way out of the kitchen, but just as he had reached out to turn the door knob, he felt a sudden sickness rise in his throat. Hastily, he dashed towards the bathroom and made it just in time to the toilet before he began to vomit violently. After this, he was feeling slightly dizzy and felt himself breaking out in cold sweat. He wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet; moving over to the sink he looked into the mirror and was shocked to see a pale face looking back at him.
He flinched slightly as he touched his face. It was even paler than it had been naturally, but there were also dark rings under his eyes, a clear sign for the lack of sleep he had had, with his eyes dull and empty.
Abruptly, he turned away and walked into his room; he didn't want to think about his present condition. Somewhere deep inside of him, he felt he didn't deserve to be cared about, his uncle had been right; he was just useless and only a burden for...
His toughts were interrupted quite rudely as a barn owl flew into his room, having a letter attached to its leg. Harry went over and grabbed the letter from it and the owl flew away again. The letter looked rather officially, but it had no sign that it came from either Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic. Frowning, he ripped the letter open.
"Dear Harry,
I wish to inform you that the Order has immediate need of you here at the headquarters.
As you now know the phrophecy, you will have to be prepared for the upcoming confrontation. That is why you will be brought to the headquarters of the Order to be trained in everything that will help you in the war which has now broken out.
In three days, a member of the order will come and bring you here, though I'm not able to give you the exact time. Be ready to leave and try not to forget anything as the things you will learn here are essential not only for your own sake but for that of the whole world as well.
We will meet soon. Until then, try and enjoy your free time.
Signed, Albus Dumbledore"
To say Harry was a bit upset after this letter, was understated. Harry was fuming. He reread the letter again and again as though the content might change if he did it often enough. What was that old fool playing at? "Try and enjoy your free time!" Sure, Harry just would have a jolly good time after having lost Sirius, never mind that. And of course, he would just act as if nothing had happened and just go and learn obediently after Dumbledore's instructions.
He was so furious about Dumbledore's letter he didn't notice the second owl until it poked him on the arm. Irritated, he turned around and snatched the letter away from it; after the owl had left, he ripped the second letter open and noticed it was from Remus:
"I know this will come quite as a surprise for you Harry, but I will come straight to the point. I have been reading your letters you sent to us and I can't shake off the feeling that something is horribly wrong.
I know I can't and I won't expect you to just be happy again after Sirius's death but your letters seem to have a sense of such deep pain attached to it that I'm greatly worried about you. I wanted to visit you but Dumbledore wouldn't let me because it's too dangerous at the moment. I know he's right about that, but I'd really like to meet with you sooner than in three days.
But seeing as that's not possible, I beg you not to do something stupid as I fear you might do. We will meet in three days and we will be able to talk things over as we hadn't had the time for that after you left for the summer.
With best wishes, Remus
P.S.: I have enclosed something for you in the letter I found yesterday when I was looking trough some old things of mine. I hope it'll make you feel a bit better, or as someone can be given the circumstances."
After he was finished with reading, Harry searched trough the envelope again and found a photograph. He turned it around and found himself staring at a picture from Sirius; Sirius how he was sitting on his flying motorcycle. Sirius looked very young on the picture, he seemed to be barely older than eighteen. Apparently, he had just bought the motorcycle. His hair was blewn back by the wind and he was sitting on his bike, smiling happily and waving at him.
Harry slowly sank down onto his bed; he had never seen Sirius look so beautiful and happy. But of course, this had been the time before his best friends were killed and he was accused of being a murderer. Suddenly, Harry felt close to tears again; he had realized that from now on, pictures of Sirius would be all that he had now, just as it was with his parents.
He didn't want to learn anything for DADA at the Order of the Phoenix, he didn't want to fight against Voldemort; hell, he didn't even want to speak with Remus at the moment. Why couldn't they understand him? Harry sniffed softly and stood up, walking over to where Hermione's early birthday present for him was placed. She had sent him a portable CD-Player together with best wishes from her parents and Ron as well; they had also enclosed a CD with music themes from a movie which had been in the cinema, the name of the movie was "Spirit".
Although he didn't know the movie, he liked the music very much, his favourite one was "Sound the bugle" for it seemed to fit his mood perfectly, though he didn't really count the last part of it. In fact, he tought of it as rather ironical. He turned the player on and switched to his favourite song and soon, the tune of it could be heard in his room.
//Sound the bugle now, play it just for me As the seasons change, remember how I used to be Now I can't go on, I can't even start I've got nothing left, just an empty heart
I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight There's nothing more for me, lead me away Or leave me lying here//
Harry had already went and turned off the lights; he walked over to his bed and due to the depressing sound of the music, he was quickly crying again with Padfoot clutched to his chest. He had involuntarily rolled up into a fetal position, his body shaken from small tremors.
//Sound the bugle now, tell them I don't care There's not a road I know, that leads to anywhere Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark Lay right down, decide not to go on//
After this, Harry quickly drifted off to sleep, whishing that everybody would just leave him alone and never speak to him again.
***
Sirius was getting rather frustrated. He had been walking for an eternity now and the great tree hadn't come much closer since he had started walking. Then it hit him; why hadn't he tought about that earlier?
He quickly changed into Padfoot and started running at a fast but steady pace, though he kept glancing left and right for any danger that might approach so he'd be able to defend himself if the need for it would appear. But nothing happened. The whole scenery around him just seemed to be dead, though it didn't lessen his amount of his watchfulness.
As he was running lonely across the great plain, his thoughts kept drifting off to Harry. What was he doing right now? How did he feel? Were those Dursleys treating him good? What was he doing without him now? What happened to those Death Eaters and Voldemort?
Those and similar thoughts ran trough Padfoot's mind as he was now getting closer and closer to his destination.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: I don't own the song from "Spirit", it belongs to Brian Adams and Dreamworks Pictures and I don't make any money out of it!
Do the summer holidays last eight weeks in England? I didn't really know so I asked my mother. If there are mistakes with that please tell me, it's rather important for my story for I have already planned the timing of the events happening to our favourite wizards! ^.^