Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter, or all of the other mates in the books. On the contrary, I get to molest, rape, sex, and love all of them up. Lucky me!
Warning: Some of the following content will be sex-, swear- and insult- heavy, as I like to keep cool. I will keep it tasteless… but sometimes, I can't help myself. Bear with me as I –try- to create something beautiful!
To Nowhere
Chapter 2 – Summer Solstice
He sat. He slept. He waited. Waited for what? Even he didn't know. Everyone seemed to leave him. His Godfather, his Headmaster, even his friends questioned him and 'gave his air' as Hermoine put it. Well… why shouldn't they? He blew up at everyone. Everyone was his enemy. For… how could they understand? They were only trying to be there for him… but he was too deep in grief to figure it out. He wanted Sirius, he yearned for Dumbledore. Thinking this for the millionth time since he came back to No. 4 Privet Drive, and for the millionth time, he wept.
Usually, Harry Potter wouldn't know how to cry. He just felt horribly, and then his eyes would sting. Perhaps he didn't know hot to cry… but this summer, he actually—finally—shed tears for his lost family. He needed these people to be his guide. Dumbledore was wise, he could teach Harry so much just by the twinkling of his sky blue eyes behind those half-moon spectacles. Sirius' laughter, sarcasm, and pure trust in Harry made him feel…wanted amongst people. Like he mattered.
Harry usually spent his days sitting, as he did the previous summer, waiting for the people he knew would never come back. He could imagine them just walking up the front walkway, the Elder and the Mutt, coming to take him away from his hellish prison. His forehead pressed against the windowpane, glasses askew, he stared out… not really seeing, but his eyes forward, glassed over, looking for some sign of Voldemort, or his ghastly Death Eaters. He didn't study, he rarely ate, and he never went downstairs, for the Dursley's knew that the Headmaster passed, and they liked to bring it up at any and every opportune moment, just to see Harry's expression.
Harry went back, as he often did, to that fateful night when Snape took the life of the old man. He thought about the look of hate and rage on the bastard's face. He relived the moment Dumbledore's magic failed to hold him, making his death real. Most of all, Harry remembered the way Malfoy's wand faltered. The blonde boy's face, his indecision. He wanted to go to the light side. He really did. His eyes proved it all. They way they seemed to say a million things at once. Harry felt something flutter around his insides when he thought about Malfoy.
The Boy-Who-Lived was sitting, brooding, when a loud screech came from downstairs. This was followed by some heavy stompings and yelps from the Dursley's living room. Then came the bellow.
'BOY! Get your ruddy arse down here and get your bloody post from this beast's grasp!' yelled Uncle Vernon. Harry could hear the vein in his uncle's brow popping, so he jumped up, and yanked his bedroom door open, flying as fast as he could down the stairs, to see what the ruckus was about.
He found his Muggle family in the living room of their home. The horse-jawed Aunt Petunia was perched on the coffee table, portly Dudley was scrunched up on the couch as much as his heavy body would let him, and Uncle Vernon, with a red face, was standing up, brandishing a fire poker like a sword. At the receiving end of the weapon perched a hawk owl, perfectly calm, like it participated in this type of scene daily. It saw Harry, and held out its claw towards him. It's amber eyes staring directly at the boy.
Harry walked up to the beautiful, sleek black creature, ignoring his purple-faced uncle, or the rest of his so-called family. He saw the owl's beak was sharpened to a direct point, and it looked like it could cause some serious damage. Harry took the scroll from the perfectly manicured claw, thrust an owl-treat at it, and the bird flew away. Harry pulled of the ribbon, and unraveled the letter, which stated;
Dear Potter,
July 20th,
12 Grimmauld Place.
Bring your school things as you will not be returning to the Muggles.
We'll be there to pick you up.
Malfoy.
Harry had to read the letter three times before it sunk in Malfoy? He wrote to me? What? How does he know about Sirius' place? And what does he mean by 'we'?
Harry read the date, July 20th. That was in tomorrow. Harry was leaving Privet Drive! He could have jumped for joy, but, thankfully, he didn't, for Uncle Vernon's vein was pulsating at a very dangerous level. Harry ran upstairs, packed his trunk, and went to bed, waiting for tomorrow where he would be leaving his treacherous family and back into the wizarding world. Back to his home.