Harry Potter sat alone in his room at Privet Drive as the happy memories of his godfather, Sirius Black, were drowned by the guilt he felt. In just the last couple of weeks he had grown quite a bit. His Aunt Petunia had to constantly buy him new clothes, although this time she did not complain. Apparently when Mad Eye Moody threatened the Dursley's two weeks ago they took it to heart. Uncle Vernon had not said a word to Harry since break began. The Dursley's were terrified of mistreating Harry, because his magical 'bodyguards' would pay them a visit, and this time,maybe do more than blast apart the fireplace.
Harry couldn't care less, and he found their anxiety amusing. A little fear is something the Dursley's could live with. After all, Harry had to live with it since the moment he was left on their accursed doorstep. In Harry's eyes, the Dursley's suffering was nothing compared to his. Harry, who has visions of the Dark Lord Voldemort; Harry, who has to kill Voldemort or be killed; Harry, who is supposed to have powers the Dark Lord knows not; Harry, who witnessed his Godfather, Sirius Black, die a month ago at the Ministry of Magic, had to go through much more pain then the Dursley's could ever imagine.
The thought of Sirius falling through the veil, surprise etched on his once handsome face, while all Harry could do is watch in horror tormented his dreams. 'It's my fault he died, if only I wouldn't have been so stupid. If I would have only listened to Hermione, because of my 'saving people thing' Sirius is dead!'
"BOY GET DOWN HERE!" roared his uncle Vernon.
Harry had been so absorbed in his own thoughts, he had not heard his uncle yelling for him to come down until the second time around.
"Coming" was all Harry said as he proceeded down the steps one by one, as he tried to regain his composure before facing his uncle. Seeing him sad would act as another of the Dursley's psychological weapons they could assault him with.
Harry arrived in the living room, his emotions controlled to a marginal degree. The thought of one Sirius Black was pushed far from his mind; he would have time to deal with that later.
The next few weeks were uneventful. Harry got a couple of letters from Ron and Hermione, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, all of them concerned for him and telling him it was not his fault. At these, Harry snorted. 'I am just a burden to them. They're in danger for knowing me, I am nothing but selfish.'
He needed to get out of this house and find a quiet place were he could think. Luckily for Harry, the nights were almost as warm as the days. Soon, He was swinging on the newly repaired swings, staring up at the full moon as it bathed him in light, finding solace in the isolation.
The teardrops of the night sky matched that of the emerald eye of Harry Potter. The pure beauty of the moon made him think of Remus, and how hard it must be for him. Of course, like all other acts of beauty, it was ruined by an outside source.
"Well if it isn't Harry, all alone in a dark park."
"Well, if it isn't Big D, from the small earthquake I could have sworn Shamoo grew legs. Stuff it and leave, Dudley."Dudley was the last person he wanted to see right now.
"What are you going to do, run and tell your parents? Oh wait, you can't. Ha! The only people that ever loved you, and their dead."
"Shut up." Harry's tried to reign in his anger. He was not going to let Dudley talk about his parents, but he could not do magic and risk expulsion. Apparently, Dudley was not very smart, and he continued as if Harry had not even spoken.
"Not like it matters though, they were useless freaks anyways. Burdens on society, a lot like you."
"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Harry reached for his wand, anger surging through every vein in his body, but before his fingertips could even scratch it's polished surface, his scar exploded and he fell to the ground writhing pain. The blood from his lightening scar running down his face, and the symphony of screams accented to the pain he was feeling till it was too much to bear, and he blacked out.
The torrent of images rushed forth from the secluded regions of his mind, beating back any attempt at stopping them. Harry's most painful memories plagued his mind, such as: of Quirrel dying at his hands, seeing a supposed lifeless Ginny on the Chamber's floor, Sirius seconds away from getting his soul vacuumed from his body, Cedric's lifeless body, and Sirius falling through the veil. The guilt would seemingly double after every image, and they left Harry with a deep feeling of self-loathing. He knew deep down that no one blamed him, but his mind would not allow him to think so. It told him that he was useless, a burden to everyone, that he was nothing but a big target on the backs of his friends, and their families.
Finally, the images sojourned, and as he slipped away from his unconscious state, he was greeted with the sight of the peeling white paint on his bed room ceiling.
'What the hell am I doing in my bed. Wasn't I at the park?'
But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of quiet sobbing at the end of his bed.
"Tonks? What are you doing here, is everything alright?"
"HARRY! I was so worried! You haven't had a pulse for the past minute, what happened?"
'Voldemort must be extremely angry to produce that much power.'
"Tonks, I'm sorry, but this is just something that I'm not ready to speak about. I hope you can understand…"
"Of course I can Harry."
"Thanks Tonks, I think I'm going to get some sleep now."
"Okay, if you're sure you're going to be ok." She paused and looked at him, only to see his affirmative nod. "Well then, I gotta go, my duty ends in about a minute and there gonna get suspicious if I walk out of your house."
"Thanks Tonks, remember don't tell anyone."
"Don't worry Harry. You can count on me."
Harry mumbled "Thanks," his head already in his pillow.
Early next morning Harry sat in his rickety chair looking out his window, deep in thought. He reflected on the events of last night. 'If Voldemort can kill me with just his emotions, I'll never stand a chance. I'm nothing but a burden. Snape was right.'
Harry made decision, he was going to leave.
