Chapter Two
Harry awoke again, this time peacefully in his bed. A dull throbing on his left wrist had lulled him into a deep sleep and he did not dream of Sirius. He dreamt of nothingness. Harry loved the feeling. For the next few hours, Harry had done the usual routine; nothing. He wasn't expecting anyone or anything, after all the Dursley's left him alone out of fear for his 'kind', as they put it. Harry was glad, after all he wanted nothing too do with them either. But something was different about this day. Not that Hedwig was out hunting, or even that the sun wasn't shining. That day, Harry knew. He wasn't going to punish himself any longer. He was going to do what he should have done in the first place. He should have ended it all. The boy who lived was going to kill himself.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore knew something was up. Hermione and Ron had both reported too him that Harry hadn't written letters or made contact with them since he returned too the Dursleys. Dumbledore was going to send a letter to warn Harry of his coming, but instincts told him not to wait any longer. So with a single clap, Dumbledore had apparated to Privet Drive.
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