Disclaimer: See other chapters

AN: Sorry for the delay everybody, I've had so much to do with my A Levels and things, and I also got completely stuck about what to do next as I'm writing this as I go along, but now I've got lots of free time, I might get some more chapters done and eventually bring things to a conclusion! Thanks to all who have reviewed and enjoy this chapter.

Templa Otmena: You've been bugging me about this chapter for ages so here it is, and thanks for reading over it for me!

Alteng: I have no idea how you came across my story, but thanks for all the reviews! I'm not really sure where Lily, James and now Sirius are, a kind of alternate realm I suppose because I don't personally believe in a fixed heaven and hell, just a different state of being. I think Lily is a bit like Hermione from what I've read about her in the HP books so far, for example fighting for what she thinks is right (defending Snape) even though it may not be popular with everybody else. I hope you like this new direction I'm taking.

The Morrigan Three: It would have been funny if she did!

Life goes on

Harry, having an even more tedious summer than last year, was lying on his bed; eyes squinted shut against the stream of sunlight coming through the window. For the seventh time that morning he was thinking back to the battle over the prophecy and reliving every curse, every flash of light and seared into his memory was the most terrible image of all, Sirius falling backwards in slow motion through the veil with a look of terror upon his face. Everybody had told him that it was not his fault, but deep down Harry knew it was. It was he who had let himself be tricked by Voldemort into thinking his godfather was in trouble, he who rushed off to the ministry to save him, only to be the cause of Sirius going to the Department of Mysteries in the first place, and just standing there while he was hurled through the veil to his death. Harry was positive he could have done something, saved Sirius somehow, but he didn't, and he would have to live with that guilt the rest of his life.

His aunt and uncle left him well alone and Dudley had become even more chronically afraid of Harry after what happened with the Dementors last year. He was also petrified of the dark and wouldn't go anywhere after dusk without being cajoled by his parents. His friends had been told that Dudley had been attacked by a knife-wielding mugger and had managed to heroically fight him off using his boxing moves, which Harry would have found amusing if he didn't know with first hand experience that a Dementor was far worse than any mugger. He also wondered what frightening experiences Dudley had witnessed, it certainly wasn't his parents being murdered in front of him by an insane dark wizard, in fact, the only thing Harry could think of apart from Hagrid giving him a tail and the Weasley twins slipping him a Ton-Tongue Toffee, was the three days a couple of years ago when both TVs had broken, making him miss twelve different programs and a special Neighbours omnibus.

Harry spent most of the time in his room, irritated by the unbroken silences that descended over the table during meal times and Dudley quickly waddling out of whichever room he was in if Harry entered it. Harry once intentionally went into the living room and leant on the door frame so Dudley couldn't get out without passing him, turning his cousin into a quivering mass, pressed as far back into his chair as he could and shooting frequent glances at the open window as though wondering if he could reach it without Harry attacking him. Harry was going to see how far he could push him when he noticed a brown owl gliding over Number Seven, heading for his bedroom window.

Harry left a near-hysterical Dudley and went upstairs to his room, shutting the door and untying the letter off the owl, which turned round and launched itself back out of the window. It was from Ron, who could not say much in case the letter was intercepted, but offered commiserations for him being once again stuck with his muggle relatives and as usual, telling him not to blame himself for Sirius' death. Harry felt like screwing the parchment back up and throwing it back out of the window after the owl but restrained himself and sat down heavily on his bed instead. He knew that Ron, and Hermione, Remus and Dumbledore who had also sent him letters saying much the same thing were only trying to help, but the pain never went away. Harry felt especially guilty towards Remus, as now due to him, he was the only true Marauder left.

Harry had written back, asking if he could leave the Dursleys early and staying at the Burrow but so far there hadn't been any reply. That had been two weeks ago and Harry had given up hope of being allowed to leave Privet Drive early, instead once again creating a calendar and pinning it on the wall, crossing off the days till he could go back through the barrier into the magical world and leave limbo behind.

He shifted slightly so his face was out of the sun's glare and looked around the room. Hedwig's cage was empty, the owl, ever sensitive to her master's moods, wisely staying out of her master's way until he calmed down enough to stop flying into sudden rages where he threw things around the room then just sat in the middle of the bedroom floor, staring into space. She tried to comfort him, but he repulsed any contact, preferring to deal with his misery alone.

Harry suddenly swung his legs off the bed and opened the bed-side cabinet, pulling out the photo album containing the pictures of his parents, including one of them stood with a tall black-haired man who was flashing a dazzling smile towards the camera and striking various dashing poses, making James and Lily laugh. Harry didn't realise he was crying until a tear landed on his hand and Sirius' face blurred from his vision. He carefully closed the book and replaced it, turning to gaze out of the window at the overcast grey sky, seemingly sharing his mood by gently beginning to rain.

Harry didn't notice Pig, as being grey the little owl was well camouflaged against the growing storm clouds, until a dripping mass of feathers hurtled through the window Harry was about to shut, and landed next to him on the duvet. Harry, recovering from his surprise, scooped the bundle up and disposed him in Hedwig's cage after removing the note attached to his leg, unwilling to let Pig go back outside where he'd probably be hit by lightning as Pig had been a present to Ron from Sirius, and Harry was therefore more likely to jump out of the window himself. The note was from Ron, telling Harry, to his relief, that the warding spells at the Burrow had been completed and the Weasleys could pick him up at eleven the following morning. Harry went downstairs and found his aunt and uncle finishing breakfast while Dudley, upon seeing his cousin, leapt a foot in the air and beat a quick exit to the living room. Harry ignored him and sat down at the table. Uncle Vernon cleared his throat loudly and eyed Harry over the top of his newspaper.

"Ahem, we err, received a letter from Aunt Marge this morning, saying that she's like us to visit, but…"

"As long as I'm not with you," Harry finished. He knew Aunt Marge had had her memory modified after the last incident when he blew her up, but some instinct must have remained because he'd never seen her back at Privet Drive again, and evidently her intense dislike of her brother's nephew had now reached a new level.

"Don't worry, I'll be leaving tomorrow," he continued, noticing the palpable relief on Vernon and Petunia's faces at this announcement.

"Oh, um, good," said Vernon, but then a horrified look replaced the earlier triumph, "They're not going to turn up at the front door are they?"

Harry presumed 'they' meant Moody, Tonks, Remus and Mr and Mrs Weasley that had met him at King's Cross the previous month. Apparently his uncle still hadn't gotten over the shock of Moody's spinning eyeball and thinly veiled threats.

"No, the neighbours won't see anything," Harry answered acidly, wondering if Vernon ever thought about anybody but himself and what the neighbours were thinking for a change. Aunt Petunia looked like she was going to say something back, but managed to check herself and continued sipping her orange juice instead.

Harry grabbed a bit of toast and went back upstairs to begin packing. Mr and Mrs Weasley, and probably Tonks and Moody were going to pick him up in the Weasley's new car, which Harry had at first raised his eyebrows at but Ron had written that the Ministry of Magic had enough to do with Voldemort's return than worrying about his dad having another car or not, 'and anyway,' he had scribbled, 'do you really think my Mum would let him anywhere near it with magic after what happened last time?' Harry only remembered too well the trouble they had gotten in, and privately thought Mrs Weasley had made a wise decision. Ron said they couldn't floo in again due to security worries and several wards around the house prevented Apparition and Portkeys.

Harry thought about Sirius again as he put his books away in his trunk and wrapped Pig up in a towel to dry him off, remembering his delighted expression when he and Ron had told him about their escapades at Hogwarts so far. His favourite had been Draco being turned into a ferret by Moody, closely followed by Snape missing out on his Order of Merlin due to his disappearance on Buckbeak. Harry felt the grief rise within him again. If only he could have said sorry. If only he could have said goodbye.

The following morning he was up early and double-checking his trunk and belongings, lifting up the floorboards and checking that nothing had been missed. His precious album he placed on top of his things, gazing again at his parents and Sirius waving enthusiastically at him from the photo. He shut the lid quickly and put the cage, minus Pigwidgeon who had recovered from yesterday and was happily zooming around the room, occasionally flying into the ceiling light shade and knocking clouds of dust free, exciting the tiny bird even more, on top of it. Harry eventually shooed him into the cage and dragged everything downstairs into the living room. Hopefully the Dursleys would stay in bed until he left, he couldn't stand them alternately glaring at him for having the nerve to exist and suddenly realising what they were doing and looking wildly round in case a hit squad of wizards suddenly burst in through the back door. The Weasleys would also be in too much of a hurry to question why his relatives weren't there waving him goodbye, even though Harry would have dearly loved to see Vernon's face if he was forced to. They apparently had had the same idea and eleven O'clock came round with Harry sat on the arm of Vernon's chair and peering out of the window, feeling very much like Aunt Petunia spying on the neighbours. 11.20 ticked past and by then his aunt and uncle had come downstairs, obviously disappointed that Harry was still there. Harry just glared at them and turned back to the window.

At half eleven Harry opened the front door and walked down to the bottom of the front garden, looking up and down Private Drive, wondering what was keeping them. Perhaps something had gone wrong and they couldn't come or they were stuck in traffic, not usually a problem for magic-users but in a normal car trying to go undetected there'd be not much they could do. He let Pig go in case Ron needed to send another letter and sat down on the low wall, accidentally squashing a tulip in the border. He saw Aunt Petunia, stood in the living room and looking at him, wince, but he ignored her and looked back up the street, remembering the night he ran away from home and saw Sirius for the first time in his animagus form. He wanted so much for the large, loping Grim-like dog to appear and turn into his godfather that he sat in a daydream, unaware of the passage of time and the rain starting once again.

Harry snapped back to the present and glanced at his watch, the one Dudley had gotten for his birthday years ago but had left on top of the bookcase in Harry's room and forgotten. He was dripping wet and frozen through, wishing he could go to Madam Pomfrey for some Pepper-Up potion, but wishing even more that Sirius was still alive.

Unbeknownst to Harry, the man of his thoughts was currently walking into a swirling fog with his father and had absolutely no idea where they were going to end up. Sirius glanced behind him, wanting a last glance at Lily, but only seeing her red halo of hair burning through the mist like a beacon of hope and though she wouldn't be able to see him, he lifted his hand anyway in a final farewell, again thinking on the incredible sacrifice they were making for him. Sirius felt the strangest tingling across his skin, like tiny electric shocks. He looked at James walking next to him, and although he grinned reassurance, Sirius could tell that he wasn't affected in the same way. He rationalised that is must be because he wasn't exactly dead, though he wasn't exactly alive either.

Harry checked the mantelpiece clock again, now showing seven O'clock, and sighed. Hedwig still hadn't turned up so he couldn't send a letter asking what was taking so long, and he wished that he'd written something to send with Pig before letting him go. Uncle Vernon, clearly annoyed at having his routine cluttered up with a depressed Harry glaring out of the front window like he wished he could blast it across the street, and satisfied that he wouldn't be able to get punished because the Weasleys being late wasn't his fault and he had just reason to be annoyed, had asked several pointed questions throughout the day, which didn't improve Harry's mood any further.

"What time are they supposed to be here?"

"Eleven."

"Typical. Some people just have no regard for others."

Harry rolled his eyes at this statement which could clearly be aimed back at his uncle and just grunted in reply, not trusting himself not to snap back a retort.

"They do realise that we have to leave at eight tomorrow to get to Marge's in time for lunch."

Harry's lack of response emboldened him.

"Do they think we've nothing better to do than sit here all day?"

Harry stood up and walked out of the room but then Uncle Vernon, on a roll, said the worst thing he possibly could have done:

"What happened to the godfather of yours, eh? Still writing to him? Escaped convict didn't you say? How come he hasn't come to pick you up? I'm not surprised actually, his type never have any consideration for others!"

Harry froze half way up the stairs, a haze of red passing before his eyes and his hands began to tremble. Hate blazed from his eyes and he whipped his wand out of his pocket, spinning round and bursting into the living room, throwing the door against the wall with an unconscious force, making his aunt and uncle stare at him like was possessed. Harry, almost uncontrollable with rage, seemed to blaze with power and the air pressure in the room increased, which, coupled with Harry's anger, pinned Vernon and Petunia to their seats.

"HOW DARE YOU EVEN MENTION HIM! HOW DARE YOU SIT THERE AND TALK ABOUT A MAN WHO WENT THROUGH MORE THAN YOU COULD EVER IMAGINE! HE WAS A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN YOU! HE GAVE HIS LIFE FOR ME AND YOU DARE ASK WHY HE DOESN'T COME?"

The walls began to shake, making lumps of plaster fall from the ceiling and the ornaments of the shelves fall, shattering on the floor.

"HE WOULD HAVE TAKEN ME AWAY FROM HERE, AWAY FROM THE YEARS OF MISERY YOU PUT ME THROUGH AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN NORMAL! FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE I WOULD HAVE BEEN WITH SOMEBODY THAT WANTED ME THERE AND NOT JUST TOLERATING ME BECAUSE I WAS DUMPED ON THEIR DOORSTEP!"

Car and house alarms all up Private Drive began to ring and the shaking became even more violent. Dudley, not knowing what was happening, ran into the room and suddenly halted behind the sofa upon which his parents were sat petrified, gawping at Harry with his mouth open. Harry raised his voice above the growing noise.

"I DESPISE ALL OF YOU," he spat at the three Dursleys, "AND I WILL NEVER COME BACK TO THIS HOUSE EVER AGAIN, I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN BE FORCED TO LIVE HERE WHILE YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO EVER CARED ABOUT ME TURNING UP LATE!"

Harry stopped shouting and the rattling died away. His eyes became blank and he stared at the Dursleys in utter revulsion. "I couldn't care less if you were all killed by Voldemort himself, if it brought back Sirius," he whispered before picking up his trunk and leaving the house. Harry didn't care if he got into trouble, he didn't care about anything any more. The shock of Sirius' death had finally given way to anger, hate, and revenge.