Elizabeth Teresa: Thank you! I hope this develops into a good story.

BabesBunny: Thanks; I'm glad you liked it! Here is the update.

Chapter 2

Harry watched Hedwig fly off into the warm darkness, as he stood at his opened bedroom window in the early hours of the morning. He had finally completed Ron's letter after many attempts and Hedwig now carried his letter off into the distance.

The disappearance of Hedwig had left an undeniable chill in his room that did not suit the murky summer air outside his open window. With Hedwig gone, his only real connection with the wizarding world was no longer. Harry turned and stared down resolutely at his school books, trying to levitate the heavy feeling in his chest by reminding himself he was still a part of Hogwarts, and that it was this time last year that he was so close to losing that by what was almost an assassination attempt by Dolores Umbridge. However, there was one thing that connected him to the wizarding world that he could never remove. The lightning bolt shaped scar carved into his forehead was a continually formidable reminder of who he was and reminded him not only of his Hogwarts links, but the unyielding connection to Voldemort. The Dark Wizard was still at large, and Harry had only recently learned the Prophecy. One of them would have to die..

The dense silence was disturbed as a faint growling began, and Harry whipped his head round to stare feverishly at his bounded Monster Book of Monsters that lay on the floor, it actually was making a faint purr as though sleeping. Harry realised with a jolt that it was his stomach that was making such noises and a pang of hunger cramped his waist. He had not eaten earlier; he had been so determined to finish the long letter to Ron that by the time he went down into the kitchen for his tea, Uncle Vernon joyfully informed him that it had been given to Dudley instead.

Harry checked his watch. It was nearing 1.30am and he felt very sleepy. However, he knew he wouldn't be able to lie comfortably through the night in this starving state. Plus, going to get some food now meant he could put off going to sleep, which was always a dangerous task for Harry. Since last year, Lord Voldemort had often pried into his mind with the use of Legilmency and had successfully managed to panic and bewilder Harry many a time. Implanting visions and scenarios into his head.. like when he fell asleep in his exam and thought he saw Sirius being tortured…

Biting his lip quietly, Harry shuffled towards his door, still dressed in the faded jeans and blue shirt from previous years, fitting a little better since Harry's wiry frame was filling out with muscle. Harry did have other muggle clothing that he had managed to purchase with the fortune his parents left him, but he knew wearing his nicer outfits would only raise suspicion in the household and the Dursleys would question and annoy. Harry wasn't allowed to look better than Dudley. So he continued to wear the same old clothes. It helped him to blend in a little better too by constantly looking the same.

So Harry proceeded out into the corridor and very quietly began to make his way downstairs. He was thankful for his Hogwarts years since his battling had given him a skilled stealth and not one step creaked as he pressed his socked foot upon it. Harry reached the downstairs hallway shortly, glancing routinely around before he went any further. The moonlight shone in through the large wooden door at the front of the hallway and cast glimmering shapes of colour as it cascaded over the coloured glass oval in the centre of the door. The only sounds came from upstairs, for as usual, a pair of resounding snores rumbled from two different bedrooms. Satisfied, Harry walked quietly into the kitchen, pushing the white door shut behind him with a very tiny creak.

Next, upon seeing the fridge loom beside him, Harry dived towards it and ripped back the door. A low hum murmured dully in the air and bright white light spilt out across the tiles of the kitchen as the door was opened; the cool chill from within calmed Harry - who had become hot and sticky again since leaving his bare room. His bright green eyes stared hungrily at the rows of food along the fridge. That was one advantage to living with the Dursleys – they never skimped on buying food. It was just that Harry didn't get served this at the table; he had to get it when they weren't looking.

Feeling his hunger pains intensify at the visions and wafts of glorious food, Harry urgently stretched his hand into the fridge and closed his fingers around a foil-wrapped chicken leg. It was only a few weeks ago that Harry had lost the urge to eat altogether. Pushing his beans around his plate was the most movement he did when sat at the table. And when he did manage to eat, it was a slow mechanical chewing, not an enjoyable experience. But then he had still been shell shocked with grief, at least now his mind was coming back together and he could successfully eat meals again. If only he could sleep soundly too. Harry turned away from the fridge and quickly ripped off the foil to throw it in the bin idly before his mouth clamped hungrily around the meat. Whilst eating he proceeded to walk towards the kitchen table, and his foot swung back to shut the fridge door in the process. But as it shut closed, it revealed Aunt Petunia stood in the dark doorway of the kitchen. Harry's eyes snapped upon her in a flash, his mouth still biting over the chicken leg.

Uh oh.

She was firmly watching him but held a sleepy expression with her hair tumbling down her shoulders in ruffled curls. Her eyes looked a little bit drowsy, but her lips were held tightly closed. It looked as though she was pondering as to how she was to go about the situation. In the tense silence, Harry pulled his mouth away from the chicken leg and ripped off some of the meat before hurriedly swallowing it, "Er.. I was hungry," he murmured quietly. They continued to stare at each other.

"Don't touch the cake," she said brusquely, voice back on form, "That's for Dudley's birthday." She walked into the kitchen and swept past him.

Harry looked vaguely surprised, the chicken leg still hovering by his chin. There had been a previous occasion many years ago where Harry was caught in the kitchen in the dead of night, and he hadn't even touched any food. But Uncle Vernon had dragged him bodily from the kitchen ranting and raving about stealing food whilst Aunt Petunia had surveyed the scene from the stairs with narrowed eyes.

Harry turned slowly to watch her fetch herself a glass from the cupboard above the washing machine, "Er.." he said again, "So, can I eat this?"

Aunt Petunia placed the glass down quietly upon the kitchen worktop and gave him a shrewd look as though he was trying to be funny, "Well, I hope you're not going to put it back now you've had your mouth all over it."

The reply made Harry give a faint grin, one that Aunt Petunia chose to not return. She instead busied herself by pouring herself some orange juice from the fridge. Harry sat down quietly in a chair in the kitchen, watching his Aunt bustle back and forth whilst he pondered over why she was not calling Uncle Vernon for him to be sent back upstairs.

"Can't you sleep?" Harry asked suddenly and he quickly felt appalled with himself for directing such questions. He had never spoken to his Aunt or Uncle with concern like he would hold for Ron or Hermione.

He was all the more surprised when she gently shook her head. She avoided questioning a bit longer by drinking the orange juice before nosily placing the glass down. "I have not been sleeping very well for a while now.." She cast him a sideways glance, "Not since.. since the Dementors came."

Harry felt a pang of resentment get directed towards Umbridge. Her sending the Dementor had affected innocent parties. And whilst Harry had never before classed any of the Dursleys as innocent, he believed that they had done nothing personally wrong to the Ministry of Magic to receive such a threatening and mind-scarring arrival in Little Whinging.

"Do you know who sent the Dementors?" asked Harry quietly.

Aunt Petunia cast her eyes sagely upon Harry, "You-Know-Who?" she whispered softly.

"No.. I thought that, but it wasn't. It was the Ministry.. trying to.." he felt it was a bit drastic to say 'kill me' or even 'silence me.' But it seemed with the mere bow of his head after the sentence conveyed the meaning across. Harry did not know why he was telling Aunt Petunia this. Perhaps it was because he felt she had a right to know why the family was in danger just as much as he was. He then spoke suddenly, "The Prophecy."

Aunt Petunia was on her second glass of orange juice, and spluttered suddenly in her drink and hurriedly slammed the glass down before staring at him goggle-eyed, "Prophecy?" she repeated lowly, trying to defy all knowledge.

It was clear Harry hadn't fallen for it because he merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes, the Prophecy, the one Dumbledore told you about all those years ago."

Aunt Petunia's face hardened and Harry knew he had gone too far. She turned stiffly from the worktop and pointed a bony finger to the door, "Go to bed," she said in a dangerously low voice. Harry watched her for a few moments before he took her heed. The chicken bone was thrown in the bin as he passed and he hurried upstairs before his Aunt got really mad.

However, as Harry pushed into his room, he thought the progress was rather alarming, and he didn't know whether to be pleased or worried by it. But as Harry began to undress himself for bed at two o'clock in the morning. He did not notice the large removal lorry pull up on the opposite side of the road.

Sort of cliffhanger! You're probably sat there thinking 'what the hell?' But do not fear. You'll find out next chapter!
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