There is a lot to be said for solitude; they say it can be calming and soothing. Allegedly it has the power to inspire an individual. I say bullocks! There is nothing inspirational about being alone. In fact, I can see nothing inspiring, encouraging, or even remotely motivating about being alone.

Then again, I am absolutely motivated to get the hell out of here and away from this blessed solitude. It's been three weeks. Three weeks of solitude. Three weeks of sitting on my ass in my cramped bedroom waiting. Thus far I have not had an enlightened thought or existential moment where I feel… well, feel anything really, other than antagonism.

I am so sick and tired of being tired. You know when you hit hard times and your just not sure how you are going to go on and you just feel drained, exhausted… bone tired. And the exhaustion is more emotional than anything so if you can just cheer up, get over the incident that has brought you to your knees, then you'll feel better, or at least you'll feel something.

Three bloody weeks and my exhaustion merely grows and no one seems to care. Perhaps I only have myself to blame. After all I don't send letters to my friends so why should I expect to receive any from them? I send rather rude notes to the order but only to hinder my uncle's attempts to reintroduce me to his belt every three days. I guess reading:

To Whom It May Concern, I am still alive.

HP

does nothing to inspire sympathy or compassion for the sender. Yet, sometimes I catch myself thinking that by leaving me alone that is their way of giving me what they think I want and/or need. But that's just too depressing to think of for too long, me needing solitude. I never wanted solitude, I only ever wanted privacy. I guess the difference was lost somewhere and I am the only one to blame for that.

So here I am on a beautiful Sunday afternoon doing what I have done every single day since I made it home from Hogwarts this year: NOTHING. I wake up, use the loo, wash my face, get dressed, write the order if it is the correct day to do so, and sit on my bed… all day long. The relatives have decided I am not to leave my room for my safety as well as theirs. They figure if this whole blood protection thing is so damn important that I have to be forced on them summer after summer then I should be as well protected as possible within their home. In other words, I am being held prisoner in the smallest bedroom in the house.

It's odd though, these past few weeks I have almost longed to be back in the cupboard under the stairs. As unusual as this may seem I am desperate for some normality; I am hungry for the comfort of familiarity. I spent ten years of my life in that hole in the wall and as off as this may sound it is the only place I feel safe in this house. When I was in the cupboard I knew what was expected of me, when I was allowed to be seen and even when I was allowed to speak. No surprises really and that is comforting. And after all that has happened in the past year I guess I would happily welcome that feeling of comfort, as distorted as it may be. The cupboard never equaled solitude, for I was never alone, I was apart of the family, even if it was purely as the domestic help, in the cupboard I had privacy. Now I live in Dudley's second bedroom and after the order's warning I no longer have a status in the family, I'm not even the domestic help anymore.

They pretend I don't exist and that worked for me for about three days until I woke up from a dream where my parents were standing in front of me trying to tell me something but no matter how hard I tried I could not hear the words they spoke. They disappeared before my eyes and I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart beating so fast and tears fighting my eyelids for escape. I'm not sure why that dream affected me so, its not like I haven't had worse but at that moment I wanted nothing more than a warm smile from someone who cared about me and I wanted them to tell me it was going to be all right. I have this feeling that because I needed someone to say those words to me so desperately that that must have been what my parents were attempting to tell me but couldn't. It makes me wonder what Mrs. Weasley would have said to me if she had been there when I woke up distressed; not that she would have been, but sometimes I like to imagine certain moments in my life where she's my mum.

I could write to her. She would come and visit if I asked, but that would ruin the fantasy of having a mum who just knows when to be there for you. Perhaps this is the perfect example of my corruption of privacy into solitude. She won't come because she thinks I don't want her to come and I haven't the emotional intelligence to fix that.

"You look lost." I jumped; I never heard anyone enter my room.

"What are you doing here professor?"

"Came to see how you were and to ask you if you have spent enough time with your family and are ready to leave?"

"I'm ready." Lupin looks hurt by my response. Perhaps he was expecting a polite greeting or some other bullshit.

'Can we talk first?" He seemed hesitant to ask.

"There's nothing to talk about. Can we just leave?" Yet another hurt expression and then a defeated nod. I am not about to get into anything with him in this room! I hate this room; it has been sucking the life out of me for the past three weeks; I just need to get out. Maybe I should have said that out loud.

No more words were exchanged. I assume he told the Dursley's I was leaving because we were being transported by portkey within the next few minutes. My trunk had never really been unpacked, it didn't take me long to get my things together.

Then it happened. I was back in Grimmauld Place for the first time without Sirius. Don't ask me what it felt like or what thoughts ran through my head because I'm not sure. I only know I am grateful retuning here for the first time can only happen once; what I can tell you is the feelings could not be classified as good.

"Harry?" Hermione's looking at me with intense concern. I must have a peculiar expression on my face as I take in the unholy nature of the Black estate, the dark decor hasn't been redone and I can only seem to remember this house as the place that once sheltered my godfather.

"Hey." Then I did something no one was expecting, least of all me. I took her into a sweeping embrace and held tight. I had never initiated a hug with her before, well with anyone actually, but it just happened and it felt good. She smiled after I finally let her go and that was when I noticed all the people that had come out into the entryway to greet me. Ron, Ginny, Mad Eye, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Lupin and Hermione, were all there looking at me. At times like this I yearn for privacy again.

"Hello everyone," I say awkwardly. I look to Ron but he doesn't say anything and his eyes are looking away. I'm confused by this behavior but before I have time to contemplate its meaning I am being escorted into the kitchen and a large plate of something is placed in front of me as I am expected to eat it… all. Good; I'm starving and didn't even know it, but Mrs. Weasley did. She knew without me telling her; that's when I log the moment away in my fantasy mum file to review later when I am in need of a happy thought.

I can't stand the sullen quiet atmosphere any longer; it had been nearly an hour, so I begin to talk. It was like word vomit. I could not filter what came out and could not stop it either.

"Well, this is a bitch. What the hell are we all doing back here? Am I alone in thinking this is just wrong, unnatural, and completely unnecessary? There has just got to be another place acceptable enough to make headquarters, is there not? Can we not maintain at another address?" The response was unanimous, everyone stared in shock. I wasn't yelling, my voice was barely raised but I suppose that was not what they were expecting to hear. I looked around for some support but was just left feeling flabbergasted at the fact we were still pretending everything was ok and that Sirius was just out for the moment and was not in fact dead.

"Harry, can we have that talk now?" Lupin stood up and put his hand on my shoulder, a firm hand that expressed no desire to have it out in the kitchen in front of everyone. I on the other hand felt like having a scene. If everyone was so content on remaining so conveniently and defiantly silent then I was more than ready to fill the space with ranting and raving if only because I had been unable to back on Privet Drive. I'm nearly 16 and I wanted a tantrum; no I needed to have a tantrum. Everything was just so fucked up and it was entirely Voldemort's doing.

I stayed firmly rooted in my seat but looked up at Lupin and said, "So talk."

Absolutely disappointed in me Lupin let go of my shoulder and walked away from me.

"Harry, grow up!" It was the coldest thing anyone could have said to me at that moment and it came from the person I least expected it from, Lupin. I had several responses to dish out but the words would not form at my lips and I was stuck staring at the Weasleys not ready to hear what Lupin was going to hurl at me next.

"I'll be in the sitting room when you decide you can have a discussion with me." That said he began to leave the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was in a panic, certain I may explode at any second. I think I must have surprised her with what I said next.

"I want a lawyer." Lupin stopped dead in his tracks and whispered, "What," as the rest of the spectators resumed their blatant bewilderment of the situation.

"I want a lawyer. Lines have been blurred. I am without a magical guardian and this has left an open void for well intentioned, but inappropriate, persons to overstep their authority and take up parental control over me. I need an advocate." I looked straight into Lupin's eyes and said, "I don't need another pseudo-parental authority figure."

He took the nearest seat; I think he nearly fell over. I didn't mean to be so bitter but the truth is often laced with tartness.

"Harry dear, perhaps you don't understand what Professor Lupin is attempting to help you with. Please just listen to him and hear him out." I nodded in agreement and Lupin began to speak again.

"I wanted to speak to you about Sirius's will. He had a few final wishes and I was asked to make sure they were all fulfilled. Among other thing I inherited, you are the most important. I now have legal custody of you; it's what Sirius wanted."

"What do you want?" I was certain he was going to say he wanted me but that I would be able to tell he didn't. After all, he was never in my life until my 3rd school year and Sirius had been as good as dead in Azkaban for more than 12 years before that.

"I'm reluctant to take you." There he said it and he didn't even bother to cover it with a nice lie. He didn't want me. Not shocked but more than a bit hurt I got out of my chair and walked out the front door. I didn't hear people telling me to come back or to slow down. In fact, I don't think I didn't hear it because no one ever said those things. They let me walk away.

So that was it, Lupin wanted a private conversation with me so that no one would hear him reject me. This thought and several more haunted me as I walked down the street not really sure where I was heading. After nearly 15 years of being an orphan I have gotten used to the rejections and the abandonment. I was never adopted; hell, I was never even considered by any family for adoption. The Dursleys flat out rejected me the moment they found me on their doorstep. Not to mention the shameful feelings I have often felt that my parents abandoned me as well; leaving me all alone in the world which I can't help but feel is fate worse than death. The only time I ever felt truly wanted was when Sirius asked me to live with him. He didn't even know me but he still wanted me. It was because of that that I was ready to answer immediately with a resounding yes, even before I was 100 certain he was not a killer and betrayer.

I walked into a pub three blocks down the street. I went straight to the back and into the bathroom and turned on the water. I splashed my face and stared at my reflection. I nearly vomited; I was so disgusted with what I saw. My face was pale and gaunt, dark circles were under my eyes, and to my horror my bottom lip was trembling, a tell tale sign I was about to lose it.

How the hell did I turn into this pathetic person staring at me from behind the mirror? Why should I care after all these years if no one wants me? Suck it up and get over yourself Potter or you will be just a cheap replica of some sad sob story of the lonely orphan who only wanted a family to love him. Bugger! I have far too more important thing to be getting on with than that sad song. I slapped myself hard across the face and turned off the water and started the walk back to headquarters.

I was only gone for perhaps 40 minutes but by the time I walked back into the kitchen the only person there was Mr. Weasley. He motioned for me to sit and I obeyed.

"You alright?" I could tell he was concerned.

"Just needed some air." So it was a bit of a lie but there was a lot of truth to it as well. Just as well because he didn't seem to buy it anyway.

"You look exhausted." Yes! Yes, I was exhausted, not tired but exhausted. Did he understand this? The way he looked at me told me he did. The bottom lip began to tremble again and I could not hide the fact.

"I don't know what to do anymore," I said as my voice cracked a little but no tears fell.

"You don't have to do anything." He meant it to be comforting but I could only shake my head furiously as I recalled the prophesy word for word inside my head. Mrs. Weasley had come in and sat down next to her husband at this point and I did not trust my voice so I remained silent.

She took my hand and in hers and held it as she spoke, "I wish you would tell us what's been bothering you."

"I can't," I breathed out. The tears were threatening to spill but I held them off the best I could. "It's not fair! I'm nearly 16, why now? Why now, when I am more than capable of looking after myself, why now more than ever do I want my parents? I need them right now to get through this and they aren't here!" I took a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. At this point I am ready to bail again. Maybe I was a bit harsh on solitude, at least with solitude I wouldn't be having this conversation with people who own me nothing and yet I continue to take from their family at every opportunity. I feel sick again as I take advantage of my best friend's parents goodness. This is not their problem and I am not their son. They have seven kids to worry about and here I am monopolizing the pair of them.

"You know what," I blurt out as I stand up, "I have gotten on just fine without them and this will be no different. I mean, I learned to do all sorts of things without them or anyone else for that matter," I'm grasping and I know it. I just need to be able to convince myself and then I'm sure I'll be able to convince them as well. "I learned to walk and talk, learned my letters and numbers, tied my shoe for the first time by myself…, no one was there for me then and it may have taken me a little longer but I managed it all the same!" My voice continued to rise and as the damn broke behind my eyes and the tears streamed down my face.

Before I turned away from them to hide my embarrassment I continued, "I did alright, didn't I? I mean, I turned out ok on my own? Right?" I was pleading now. I really needed to know if they thought I was totally screwed up or if I may have in fact managed to just scrape by.

"Of course dear. You've turned out so well. Your parents would be so proud of you! Nothing is wrong with you."

"If that's true why doesn't he want me?"

Do I continue?