A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out, guys. A lot is happening in my life right now (all good, I assure you), and so this chapter was pretty much written a few sentences at a time over the last 3 weeks. But it's finally done, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Also, a big thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed or simply just read my story so far. I am amazed at the amount of support this story has already received, and we haven't even gotten to the good part yet :)

If nothing else, Uncle Vernon was a man of his word. The following day, there were new locks installed on Harry's bedroom door, along with a cat flap so that Aunt Petunia would be able to push meals through from time to time.

And if that wasn't enough to make Harry feel like he was being kept in a high-security prison cell, Uncle Vernon had then come up with the brilliant idea of installing bars on his window. He had been positively giddy when the man he had hired to do the job showed up at the door.

And in Harry's opinion, there was nothing more terrifying than a giddy Uncle Vernon.

He was proved right when, later that day, Uncle Vernon kept his other promise to Harry, and finished delivering the rest of his "punishment" for the incident with the Masons.

The man's taunts and jeers and cutting words had almost been worse than the sting of the belt. But it still didn't come close to how it had felt to see his pictures torn up before his very eyes.

No, nothing could even come close to that pain.

The young wizard winced as he shifted around on his bed, his back feeling as though it were on fire. His fingers closed once again around the one photograph that he hadn't let out of his sight since Uncle Vernon had left the room. The one that contained two young children. His mother and a childhood friend.

His mother and Snape.

He still hadn't quite been able to wrap his head around this new piece of knowledge. His mother and Snape had been friends?

How?

When?

Why?

Harry stared and stared at the photograph, searching desperately for answers that he knew he may never get. None of this made any sense.

He doubted it ever would.

It was some time later that Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something being pushed through the cat flap. He caught a quick glance of Aunt Petunia's hand before it disappeared again, leaving behind a bowl of soup.

Harry didn't immediately move from his spot on the bed. It was still so soon after Uncle Vernon's punishment, and moving just hurt too much.

But after a few silent minutes passed, Harry glanced over at the cage where Hedwig was still locked up, even more trapped than he currently was, and knew that he needed to get some food to his familiar.

Harry slowly got to his feet, lifting himself carefully off of his mattress. He crossed the room, gritting his teeth the entire way, determined not to allow any sounds of pain to escape past his lips. Even if Hedwig was the only one around to hear it.

Eventually, he managed to scoop the bowl of soup up from the floor, although bending over to do so proved to be quite agonizing. Hedwig made several low screeching noises as her owner moved towards her cage, then. Harry wondered if the bird's sounds were out of concern for him, or if she was just hungry. He feared she may be disappointed with what he had to offer her.

He raised the bowl to his own lips first, and forced himself to gulp down the stone cold broth. He knew it would do him no good to turn his nose up at it.

"Here, girl. You can have the vegetables," Harry said when he was done. He tipped the soggy remnants of the soup into Hedwig's food dish, and watched as his familiar turned her head away in obvious disgust.

"Yeah, well, it's all we have right now. So we're both just going to have to get used to it," Harry said firmly.

Hedwig continued to ignore him.

Harry sighed. "I really am sorry, Hedwig. You shouldn't have to be stuck here with me."

Hedwig tilted her head slightly to the side, listening.

"But it won't be long until school starts," Harry continued. "My aunt and uncle just have to let us out then."

The young boy turned away then, heading back towards his bed.

But just before he was about to lower himself onto the mattress, another sound came from Hedwig's cage. A soft, hooting noise that sent a wave of reassurance through Harry's entire body.

And in the next moment, the owl reluctantly began to eat.

As the days passed, and the Dursleys showed no sign of changing their minds about keeping Harry locked up in his tiny bedroom, the young wizard found himself doing a lot of thinking.

He thought about Hogwarts, and all of his friends. He wondered how Ron and Hermione were doing, and if they ever thought about him at all. And he thought about how his summer had gone before Dobby had had to show up and ruin everything. It had definitely been miserable, but it had been a hundred times better than this.

Harry shook his head as his mind wandered down that avenue. He didn't like to think much about his current situation. It was far too depressing.

But he supposed it was better than thinking about the picture.

The picture that could quite possibly drive him insane.

The mystery that surrounded his mother and Snape had only gotten more and more frustrating with each passing day that Harry could think of no explanation for the photograph he'd found.

He wasn't even sure what he should do with the information. Assuming he ever got back to Hogwarts, should he show the picture to anyone? Ron and Hermione? What would they say? What would they think?

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to think about that just now.

The boy groaned and rolled over onto his side so that he was facing the wall. The pain in his back had faded away to nothing more than a dull ache a couple of days ago. He had healed fairly quickly, just like always.

And summer would be over soon enough.

It was the final week of the summer holidays when Harry was finally allowed out of his room for something other than the use of the toilet.

Chores.

A lot of chores.

Harry cleaned the entire house from top to bottom every single day that week. He swept and mopped and vacuumed the floors. He scrubbed the dishes and wiped down every surface of furniture until not a single speck of dirt or particle of dust remained.

And then there was the outside work. He mowed the lawn and pruned the hedges and tended to Aunt Petunia's garden in the blistering August heat.

And now, on the very last day before school was supposed to start, he was cleaning up the shed in the backyard.

Harry found himself wishing that he could have just been left alone in his bedroom upstairs.

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he tried to figure out how exactly he was going to organize all of the tools and gardening equipment so that the Dursleys would be satisfied.

He didn't have much time to figure it out either. Uncle Vernon would be home from work soon, and Harry was supposed to be done with his chores and back in his room by the time that happened.

But today he would need to talk to Aunt Petunia about going back to school tomorrow.

It was a conversation he was not looking forward to.

"So are you going back to that freak school?" a voice startled Harry out of his thoughts.

Turning around, the young wizard saw Dudley standing just outside the shed, staring in at him with a nasty smile on his face, a bag of sweets, as always, clutched securely in one hand.

Harry just shrugged. Dudley wasn't very frightening when he wasn't surrounded by his gang of friends. "Yep," he replied. "It'll sure be better than being stuck here all year."

And with that, Harry brushed past his cousin, deciding that he wanted to get the conversation with Aunt Petunia over with sooner rather than later.

But then Harry's arm was suddenly being held in a death grip as Dudley grabbed him before he could make it more than a few paces away from the shed.

"You're a liar." Dudley hissed. "Dad said you're not going back. He won't allow it."

"Shows how much you know, doesn't it?" Harry retorted, yanking his arm out of the larger boy's grasp. Then he continued walking back towards the house.

"I know more than you think I do," Dudley called after him.

Harry ignored him.

"Never mind, then," Dudley continued. "I just thought you'd like to know what happened to that stupid photo album Dad took from your room."

Harry froze in his tracks, both of his hands immediately balling up into fists at his sides.

Dudley smirked and took a few steps closer to his cousin, until he was standing directly behind Harry.

"It must have been important to you," the boy continued with his taunting. "Too bad it's gone now."

"You're lying," Harry said, still frozen in place.

Dudley's smile grew wider as he stared at the back of Harry's head. "No, I'm not. I saw Dad do it. I saw him throw it into the fireplace-"

At those words, Harry couldn't hold back. He whipped around and blindly threw a good hard punch in the direction of Dudley's face.

He then stood impossibly still, completely in shock, as he watched his oversized cousin bring one of his large hands up to his face, his eyes wide in surprise.

A second later, Dudley moved his hand away again, and Harry was able to see the blood smeared across his cousin's fingers and trickling out of his nose.

There was nothing but silence between them then, each one of the boys just staring at the other.

And then Dudley found his voice.

"Mum!" he practically screamed.

Harry snapped out of his trance then, and turned towards the house, breaking into a run when he heard Dudley following him.

He flew through the kitchen, nearly running right into his Aunt Petunia, who shrieked in protest, and then in anger as she saw the state of her son.

But Harry didn't care. He ran into the sitting room, and went straight for the fireplace.

He knew he wouldn't find anything. He had cleaned this fireplace several times already over the last few days. It was cleaner than it had ever been before.

Which meant that if Uncle Vernon really had burned his picture album, then they were really, truly gone. All of those photographs, all of those snapshots of his parents, alive and happy, were gone.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just staring into the empty fireplace. He just knew that it wasn't until Aunt Petunia stormed into the room, yelling and screeching and shouting, that he finally broke out of his daze and turned to face her.

"How dare you?!" she was practically screaming. "How dare you hit my son?!"

And suddenly Harry was angry. Completely ignoring his aunt's question, he opened his mouth to speak. "I am leaving tomorrow," he stated firmly. He was through with asking permission.

"What did you just say?" Petunia hissed.

"I said that I am leaving for school tomorrow," Harry refused to back down. "And unless you want a very powerful witch or wizard standing at your doorstep, you won't try to stop me."

Aunt Petunia took a few steps forward until she was standing directly in front of her nephew. Then, quick as a snake, she reached down and slapped Harry hard across the face. The young boy's hand immediately went to his stinging cheek as he finally broke eye contact with his aunt.

"Fine," the woman said. "I'll have Vernon give you a ride to the train station tomorrow morning."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. That was it? She was just going to let him go?

"But," Aunt Petunia continued nastily. "After that, you are no longer welcome in this house. I never want to see you back here again, summer holidays or otherwise. I am finished with you. I will not allow you to hurt Dudley again, or to intrude on my family any longer. Are we clear?"

Harry couldn't quite identify the emotion that was taking over his body at that moment. He felt sick, empty, betrayed.

But that couldn't be right, could it? He hated the Dursleys. And they hated him. How could he possibly feel betrayed at his aunt's words? That didn't make any sense.

"Are we clear?" Petunia repeated, as she continued to glare down her nose at Harry.

All the boy could do was nod numbly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Then get upstairs," Petunia said dismissively. "And wait for your uncle to get home."

Harry left the room as quickly as he could and headed up to his bedroom.

Hedwig greeted him softly when he entered, and Harry headed straight for her cage.

"We're finally getting out of here, girl," he said quietly, reaching through the bars of his owl's cage so that he could stroke her feathers. "I told you we would, didn't I?"

Hedwig seemed to sense that not all was well with her master, though, for she let out another soft hoot and nudged at Harry's fingers.

The young wizard sighed. "I'm in trouble with the Dursleys again," he confided in his familiar. "I'm sure Uncle Vernon is going to be really mad at me when he gets home."

Harry thought that Hedwig looked rather concerned at that bit of news. So he decided to plaster a smile onto his face in the hopes of cheering them both up.

"But, at least we get to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow," he said, continuing to stroke his owl.

Hedwig tilted her head to the side in response, and suddenly Harry's smile turned genuine, if only for a moment.

"Yep. Tomorrow, girl, we get to go home."

A/N: Thanks for reading everyone! I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible, although I will be out of town for a couple days and so likely won't be able to work on this until I get back. (It shouldn't be too long, I promise.)

-Ailee17