It started with hate. It started with emptiness. The same darkness that he saw in Sirius Blacks eyes as he fell through the veil. First, Harry was angry, enraged at the world for everything it had taken from him. He would lay there fuming back at Privet Drive staring at the boring muggle neighborhood.

Soon enough as the weeks went by and reality set in, the denial faded, and the tears came. Sirius Black, his godfather, his hope, was dead. It came in crashing waves of anguish that haunted him throughout the nights. The Dursley's avoided him like the plague, Harry had this aura around him that stunk of suffering.

He couldn't sleep and it wasn't the nightmares of Voldemort and his dark works that kept him awake. Sirius haunted him now, every time he closed his eyes Harry saw him falling through that damn veil. The look of shock, terror, and the brief glimpse of death. He had gotten used to his routine of reliving it, he was almost comfortable with it. Today though, things were different.

Harry didn't wake to the cackle of Bellatrix and the vision of his godfather, but rather the midday sunlight sneaking through his window. Harry blinked once, then one more time. He got out of bed slowly, his body felt heavy and despite sleeping a long time he felt he hadn't slept at all. He ran his hands through his already messy hair as he located his glasses.

He left the room and noticed how much cooler it was in the rest of the house. Harry frowned as he wandered downstairs. His stomach rumbled but he didn't have much of an appetite. He went downstairs and passed Mrs. Dursley; she looked up from her reading to eye him. She looked at him with the usual disdain, but there was this hint of something deeper in her gaze that Harry couldn't read. The clock read twelve-thirty and Harry was confused at how he could sleep that long.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?" she asked haughtily. Harry honestly didn't know what the plan was, but he didn't want to be stuck in this house right now. He felt a sudden need to leave, a sudden urgency.

"I am." Harry responded in a determined fashion, trying to stand a little taller to assert some sort of confidence he didn't have. She challenged him with her eyes, but he saw her gaze soften.

"Don't anyone see you, not like that." She said with disgust, returning her attention to her book. Harry looked down at himself, he had forgotten he hadn't changed into day clothes. He wore pajama bottoms and a sweat stained T-shirt from Dudley. He should probably change, but as soon as that thought came into his mind, he dismissed it. It's not like he was going anywhere fancy, probably just out for a walk.

Harry shoved his hands into his pajama pockets, stalking out of the house and into the open street. The sunlight almost blinded him, he blinked away tears that formed. There were not as many kids playing in the street as he expected, but Harry supposed a perfect little neighborhood wouldn't want kids running around to muck it up.

Before Harry really knew where he was going, he ended up at a small, deserted playground. An old swing sat there, just asking him to place himself down on it. Harry obliged. He took a deep breath as he sat there basking in the sun. He was so lost in the peace of it all, finding peace from the silence in his head, which is probably why he didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"Oi, look who decided to show up on our terf, boys." A voice he knew too well. Harry's eyes flew open and as he was expecting Dudley Dursley stood in front of him menacingly. He had his boys with him, Piers and another one Harry didn't recognize. Harry's hand immediately grasped for his wand, only to realize he hadn't brought it. The single most important item in a wizard's life, and he had forgotten it.

Dudley's baseball cap was on backwards and Harry wondered if Dudley thought it made him look cooler, it didn't. Thinking fast he shoved his hand into his pocket and held it there.

"C'mon, Dudley, don't be stupid." Harry tried to reason; his voice sounded tired even to himself. Dudley's eyes flashed down to Harry's enclosed fist in his pocket, and there was fear there for a second. As if ashamed, Dudley stood straighter and wider.

"You can't do nothin, mate. You've got rules to follow, don't cha?" Dudley said with a vicious grin. Harry felt something stir and he knew if he had his wand he'd damn the consequences. Maybe it was good he didn't.

Dudley was watching Harry like a fat cat watches a mouse, any second he'd strike. His cronies were circling like vultures and in an instant Harry knew he was fucked. His eyes darted left in right before his hand slipped out from his pocket and he darted off.

"Get him!" screamed Dudley. Harry thought he had this in the bag, Dudley was fat and after years of Harry hunting, you'd think harry would be better at running. Harry was normally fast, at least faster than Dudley, but today he tripped. He came to a crashing halt and stumbled all the way to the ground in a sudden heap, scraping up his elbows in the process.

He was grabbed roughly by Piers and the new boy; they held him up like a dangling piece of meat. He struggled meekly in their grasp. Dudley approached Harry with a smile on his face and the same cruel look that lingered in all the Dursley's eyes.

Dudley wound up and punched Harry right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. They let him fall to the ground in a heap. Harry had always made sure Dudley couldn't hurt him, there was always a way to avoid Dudley's wrath, but now, as Dudley stood over him, it felt like some twisted destiny.

Harry coughed and spat, gasping for air, he felt bile rise in his throat as he tried to recover himself. Suddenly, there was a knife at his side, Dudley was holding a knife to him. Harry felt panic overtake him, Dudley was going to kill him.

"Come here again, and your dead meat." Dudley whispered in Harry ear before standing up, pocketing the knife, and kicking Harry one more time in his side. They walked off without even acknowledging Harry again.

Harry didn't know how much longer he had laid there; all he knew was pain and helplessness. He was so tired of feeling helpless. It seemed like there was nothing Harry could ever do to stop bad things from happening. His eyes were wet, when had he started to cry?

The tears flowed onto the pavement, and he felt weak. Harry curled into a ball and cried. He cried because he was tired of being alone, tired of being hurt, tired of bearing so much weight on his small shoulders. He cried so much he felt himself run out of tears; he was left feeling this numbness that settled deep within and nestled in like it belonged.

Harry stood up, wiped his eyes, and walked back to Privet Drive.