Harry groaned as he rolled over and promptly onto the floor from his bed.
He rubbed the temples of his already aching head. He opened his bleary
eyes, blinking in the semi-darkness that occurred just before the sun
peeked over the horizon. He stood up on his slightly unsteady feet and
stumbled clumsily to his desk where he had placed his glasses the night
before. He looked to the door of his small bedroom on the back of which
hung a piece of parchment that had been turned into a homemade calendar.
July 30th.
The next day would be his birthday. He couldn't help but wince as his heart twisted inside of his ribcage.
Cage indeed. He, like his heart, was in a cage. A cage that he was told was meant to protect him from the evils of the world. He almost laughed bitterly at the absurdity of it.
Almost.
He didn't need to be protected. No, it was the world that needed to be protected from the bad.
Protected from him.
After all, anyone near him got hurt.
Or died.
Died like his parents, or Cedric, or Sirius...
Sirius.
Tears unwillingly filled his bloodshot, emerald eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He had cried enough. He had cried everyday of his summer holiday and he was tired of crying. He was tired of hurting. He was tired of the voices telling him it was his entire fault. He was tired of being left alone. He was tired of being left behind.
He was always left behind, sheltered. And whenever he managed to escape from his cage, he always fucked up royally. And of course, when he messed up, someone else always paid for it. There were no consequences for the flipping Boy-Who-Lived.
That was why he held onto the pain.
He hated the pain. Hated every minute of agony he put himself through, yet he savored it.
He savored the feeling of thorns digging into his raw heart. He couldn't help but feel a sense that his pain was right. He deserved every moment of it.
He deserved being alone on his birthday, presentless.
He deserved to be isolated from everyone, even Hedwig (who was at the Weasleys), if it meant that he didn't hurt them.
Harry shook himself from his thoughts as the glass of the window had begun to rattle from his suppressed emotion. He let himself go through the motions of a summer morning, not aware of the world around him.
He went downstairs and made breakfast (an apple and a package of Pop-Tarts) for himself quickly before heading out to the Dursley's backyard. He ate beneath a tall tree, watching the sun as its warn rays penetrated the darkness of twilight.
That was what he needed. He needed a sun to fight back the darkness inside of his soul. He needed an angel to save him, if he was even worth saving anymore.
Harry snorted.
Did he really think an angel would even consider saving him? He was, most definitely, going to Hell if such a place existed.
Harry spent an hour or so watching the sunrise. Just as the last of the glowing star had jumped over the horizon, he got up from the dew soaked grass.
He made his way to the small gardening shed in the corner of the Dursley's yard. He opened the door slowly and surveyed its contents. He would be working in the front yard today. He picked up several choice gardening tools and carried them through the gate separating the front and back yards. He knelt in the damp soil of a flowerbed and sunk a trowel into the earth.
He worked until the sun was beating down relentlessly above him. He looked up as he wiped his sweat-drenched brow. The heat was intense. He struggled with his shirt for a moment, until it was over his head and lying in the grass beside him. He looked at it for a moment before twisting it and tying it around his head. His stomach rumbled, but Harry ignored it. He set to work once again, losing himself in his task like he did everyday.
Some people would look upon him and say it was an outlet for his emotions. They, of course, would only be partially correct because no matter how hard or often Harry worked; he always kept part of his emotions to himself. Burying himself in physical activity helped him to tolerate his feelings, but he never let them go. He didn't deserve to.
The next day, Harry woke up in a similar fashion to the day before. He rarely had nightmares anymore due to his effort of keeping his mind empty. He only allowed himself a few seconds to celebrate the fact that he was now sixteen years old, before he prepared himself for another day of work.
The Dursleys, as per usual, ignored him and avoided any contact. They left around noon for some reason or another that they didn't feel he needed to know.
Not that he cared.
He was totally immersed in his work when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He hadn't been touched by another human being since the day he had left Hogwarts and had been hugged goodbye by Mrs. Weasley. He froze automatically, willing them to leave. He heard a muffled sound in his usually quiet world. The sound became clearer and punctuated by someone shaking him.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Are you okay Harry?" a voice asked. A voice he recognized. A voice that belonged to a person who had held him back as his Godfather had disappeared behind the whispering veil. It was a tired voice and the last link to his parents he had left.
Harry turned slowly. Remus Lupin stood behind him, hand still on his shoulder. His face had a surprised expression, probably from Harry's appearance. Harry hadn't looked in a single mirror for nearly a month, after all. It was too painful.
"Professor?" Harry asked his voice raspy and slightly squeaky from disuse.
"H-Harry? Are you okay?" Lupin asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I don't know," Harry replied truthfully.
From behind Remus, stepped Moody and a few others that Harry didn't recognize.
"Let's get moving, Lupin," the scarred man said.
"Where?" Harry asked emotionlessly, while inside he was confused.
"We're going to Diagon Alley to get your supplies and Albus felt you might want to get out of your relative's house," Lupin answered gently.
Harry just stared at them, trying to control the urge to run away. Finally he replied.
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," he said. "You better go." He closed his eyes to keep them from tearing up. He didn't want them to leave, but he didn't want them to get hurt even more. As he fought inside himself, he began to lose control of his magic. It had happened quite often this summer and he desperately tried to control it as a huge gust of wind began to swirl around his body.
"Harry," he heard the werewolf say, "don't do this. You need to get out. No one will get hurt. You're safe. Everyone here is safe." Remus' voice got quieter, so only Harry could hear him. "S-Sirius would want you to get out. He wouldn't want you to mourn, only to remember him. Why don't you go get washed up Harry? There are some things we need to discuss after Diagon Alley."
Harry's eyes filled with tears at the mention of his Godfather and he felt hatred for himself rip through his heart. He knew Remus was right, though, and nodded, not letting a single tear escape.
"I'll help you get ready," Remus said caring laced in his voice.
All Harry could do was nod once more.
A/N: AHHHHH!!!!!! How angsty was that? It should get better as the story progresses. *Gulp* I hope... This is just something I wrote when I was bored and I will continue if I get enough reviews to satisfy my ego. I don't know how long it will be for an update. It is up to the keyboard gods I suppose. Well, I would appreciate it if you would review, no matter how much this sucks.
To Abbey: HAH! I wrote something! But now I have to update... DARN!
Please review!
......................................................raincoats............. ...........................................
July 30th.
The next day would be his birthday. He couldn't help but wince as his heart twisted inside of his ribcage.
Cage indeed. He, like his heart, was in a cage. A cage that he was told was meant to protect him from the evils of the world. He almost laughed bitterly at the absurdity of it.
Almost.
He didn't need to be protected. No, it was the world that needed to be protected from the bad.
Protected from him.
After all, anyone near him got hurt.
Or died.
Died like his parents, or Cedric, or Sirius...
Sirius.
Tears unwillingly filled his bloodshot, emerald eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He had cried enough. He had cried everyday of his summer holiday and he was tired of crying. He was tired of hurting. He was tired of the voices telling him it was his entire fault. He was tired of being left alone. He was tired of being left behind.
He was always left behind, sheltered. And whenever he managed to escape from his cage, he always fucked up royally. And of course, when he messed up, someone else always paid for it. There were no consequences for the flipping Boy-Who-Lived.
That was why he held onto the pain.
He hated the pain. Hated every minute of agony he put himself through, yet he savored it.
He savored the feeling of thorns digging into his raw heart. He couldn't help but feel a sense that his pain was right. He deserved every moment of it.
He deserved being alone on his birthday, presentless.
He deserved to be isolated from everyone, even Hedwig (who was at the Weasleys), if it meant that he didn't hurt them.
Harry shook himself from his thoughts as the glass of the window had begun to rattle from his suppressed emotion. He let himself go through the motions of a summer morning, not aware of the world around him.
He went downstairs and made breakfast (an apple and a package of Pop-Tarts) for himself quickly before heading out to the Dursley's backyard. He ate beneath a tall tree, watching the sun as its warn rays penetrated the darkness of twilight.
That was what he needed. He needed a sun to fight back the darkness inside of his soul. He needed an angel to save him, if he was even worth saving anymore.
Harry snorted.
Did he really think an angel would even consider saving him? He was, most definitely, going to Hell if such a place existed.
Harry spent an hour or so watching the sunrise. Just as the last of the glowing star had jumped over the horizon, he got up from the dew soaked grass.
He made his way to the small gardening shed in the corner of the Dursley's yard. He opened the door slowly and surveyed its contents. He would be working in the front yard today. He picked up several choice gardening tools and carried them through the gate separating the front and back yards. He knelt in the damp soil of a flowerbed and sunk a trowel into the earth.
He worked until the sun was beating down relentlessly above him. He looked up as he wiped his sweat-drenched brow. The heat was intense. He struggled with his shirt for a moment, until it was over his head and lying in the grass beside him. He looked at it for a moment before twisting it and tying it around his head. His stomach rumbled, but Harry ignored it. He set to work once again, losing himself in his task like he did everyday.
Some people would look upon him and say it was an outlet for his emotions. They, of course, would only be partially correct because no matter how hard or often Harry worked; he always kept part of his emotions to himself. Burying himself in physical activity helped him to tolerate his feelings, but he never let them go. He didn't deserve to.
The next day, Harry woke up in a similar fashion to the day before. He rarely had nightmares anymore due to his effort of keeping his mind empty. He only allowed himself a few seconds to celebrate the fact that he was now sixteen years old, before he prepared himself for another day of work.
The Dursleys, as per usual, ignored him and avoided any contact. They left around noon for some reason or another that they didn't feel he needed to know.
Not that he cared.
He was totally immersed in his work when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He hadn't been touched by another human being since the day he had left Hogwarts and had been hugged goodbye by Mrs. Weasley. He froze automatically, willing them to leave. He heard a muffled sound in his usually quiet world. The sound became clearer and punctuated by someone shaking him.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Are you okay Harry?" a voice asked. A voice he recognized. A voice that belonged to a person who had held him back as his Godfather had disappeared behind the whispering veil. It was a tired voice and the last link to his parents he had left.
Harry turned slowly. Remus Lupin stood behind him, hand still on his shoulder. His face had a surprised expression, probably from Harry's appearance. Harry hadn't looked in a single mirror for nearly a month, after all. It was too painful.
"Professor?" Harry asked his voice raspy and slightly squeaky from disuse.
"H-Harry? Are you okay?" Lupin asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I don't know," Harry replied truthfully.
From behind Remus, stepped Moody and a few others that Harry didn't recognize.
"Let's get moving, Lupin," the scarred man said.
"Where?" Harry asked emotionlessly, while inside he was confused.
"We're going to Diagon Alley to get your supplies and Albus felt you might want to get out of your relative's house," Lupin answered gently.
Harry just stared at them, trying to control the urge to run away. Finally he replied.
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," he said. "You better go." He closed his eyes to keep them from tearing up. He didn't want them to leave, but he didn't want them to get hurt even more. As he fought inside himself, he began to lose control of his magic. It had happened quite often this summer and he desperately tried to control it as a huge gust of wind began to swirl around his body.
"Harry," he heard the werewolf say, "don't do this. You need to get out. No one will get hurt. You're safe. Everyone here is safe." Remus' voice got quieter, so only Harry could hear him. "S-Sirius would want you to get out. He wouldn't want you to mourn, only to remember him. Why don't you go get washed up Harry? There are some things we need to discuss after Diagon Alley."
Harry's eyes filled with tears at the mention of his Godfather and he felt hatred for himself rip through his heart. He knew Remus was right, though, and nodded, not letting a single tear escape.
"I'll help you get ready," Remus said caring laced in his voice.
All Harry could do was nod once more.
A/N: AHHHHH!!!!!! How angsty was that? It should get better as the story progresses. *Gulp* I hope... This is just something I wrote when I was bored and I will continue if I get enough reviews to satisfy my ego. I don't know how long it will be for an update. It is up to the keyboard gods I suppose. Well, I would appreciate it if you would review, no matter how much this sucks.
To Abbey: HAH! I wrote something! But now I have to update... DARN!
Please review!
......................................................raincoats............. ...........................................