Harry stared into darkness. It was only his third day back at the Dursely's, and already, depression has taken over. He couldn't sleep at night, not when such horrors haunted him. The pain in his scar, has become a constant aching, sometimes he even forgot about it. The Dursleys' kept their distance. But Harry had no doubt that Uncle Vernon would've kicked him out of the house at the first opportunity. Oh no, the Durselys' wouldn't want to be associated with people like him. Freaks, they called them. And especially so now when the most feared wizard in the whole of Britain was after him. Even Dudley, whom got his occasional kick out of punching Harry between the eyes stayed clear. Harry knew that the only reason they let him stay on, was the horrible howler they got last summer. The look on Aunt Petunia's face had been pure horror.
These three days had been hell. His thoughts only evolved round one person - Sirus, his godfather. In his attempt to save Harry, he fallen to his death. Lupin, Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley.. They had all insisted furiously that it wasn't his fault, and if Harry were to blame it on himself, Sirus would've died in vain. "It's easy for them to say," he thought bitterly to himself. It wasn't them who led Sirus to the Ministry of Magic. They wouldn't ever understand how it felt to lose his only kin, the one person he felt really related to, his father's best friend.
Locked in his room, there were little else he could do to keep himself occupied and push all the unhappy thoughts away. Visions and memories of Sirus flashed through his mind all the time, something that wouldn't go away no matter how he tried. It all came to him - when Harry finally acknowledged Sirus as his godfather, not a murderer out of Azakaban. When he saw Harry and Hermione at the wndow on Buckbeak, their attempt to help him escape, the look of gratitude in his eyes. The little weird smile he had, that lit up his sullen face, and his bark-like laugh he always did when Harry amused him. Even now, he felt a painful lump in his throat and his eyes stung. Malfoy would've probably loved to see him in this state, but he really couldn't help it. Before Sirus died, he held on to that little hope that he could leave the Dursleys soon enough, but now, it seems it will never happen.
To add to his depression, he, Ron and Hermione were forbidden to send owls, thus, his connection to the wizarding world was down to zero. He thought longingly of July when term starts and felt it would never come. Hedwig too, was in a foul mood. She had been locked up in her cage since Harry came back, and hasn't had the chance to spread her wings, fly into the night sky and catch some mice since then. Dumbledore had strictly instructed her imprisonment, and told Harry that by letting her out, death-eaters could be knocking on the Dursleys' door next. Thus with this rule, Hedwig and Harry have both been cropped up in the cage and room respectively, and probably would be till three months later. The mere thought of it pained him.
He laid on his bed and stared at the dark ceiling above. It seemed the misery in his life would never end. He felt terrible, both inside and outside. He was tired, and sleep was taking over. He hardly slept the past few days - Sirus's death, Voldermort's cold, cruel laugh... Not mentioning his recurring dreams about the dark corridors that never ended. And each time, he would wake up in cold sweat, breathing hard, because each had been so real, so near. Now, he felt his eyes close, and suddenly, he was back at Hogwarts. He, Ron and Hermione were at the Great Hall having breakfast. Everything seemed extraordinarily bright, eerily cheerful. Laughter filled the hall, and Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. "Voldemort has gone. The wizarding world is at peace." Thunderous applause filled his head, but strangely, he did not feel happy, Instead, he had this mad rush to attack Dumbledore. Picking up his wand, he charged. But before he could do anything, Dumbledore collapsed, and Umbridge appeared behind him.. "Caught in the act eh, Potter?" her voice sounding far away and unreal. "Just what the Ministry's trying to prove, Potter is a nut case," her eyes bulging, and she was shaking with mad laughter. He turned back to Ron and Hermione, trying to explain that he didn't want it to happen, but they backed away from him, and laughed together with Umbridge...
"Argh noooo!" Gasping for breath and denched in sweat, he woke up to find himself back in his room at Privet Drive. He heard his uncle grunt in the next room, and the bed creaked under his weight. He looked at the clock, and it was already three in the morning. The dream, could it have meant anything? Was he becoming Voldermort? Or was he sharing the very same thoughts as him, and could no longer control them? Till now, he couldn't forget that mad and strong urge to hit out at Dumbledore when he was back at school last term. It was hate that he had never experienced before, and his desire to hurt his headmaster as much as he could. So with this dream, did it meant that Harry had no more will to withold this desire? He had this sudden swift thought, that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't be going back to Hogwarts this term. However, a small voice replied in his head, "Do you honestly think Albus Dumbledore don't know what you're thinking?"
posted by Glenn @ 7:50 PM
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