Harry stared out his window in Privet Drive, his previously sparkling green eyes now dull and lifeless. His relatives did not care about what he did in the room, nor bothered about him. It suited him just fine. He just wanted to be alone.

He had been like this ever since Sirius died. All he ever did was to sit motionless in his chair gazing out upon the street below, not attempting to do anything else other than relieve himself and eat occasionally. Not that he had much appetite anyway, most of his meals were left untouched. There were a stack of letters from his friends on his desk, asking how he had been. He had ignored them all.

Dumbledore and everyone had said that it was not his fault that Sirius had died. He had tried to believe them, but nightmares of Sirius' death and that previous battle kept haunting him. Vivid images of that fateful day flashed continuously in his mind.

Oh how he missed Sirius. Fate was cruel. He wanted to join Sirius, maybe he could see his parents. Picking up a pocket knife from the table, he ran his finger lightly over the blade. It was sharp. He tried it on his wrist, a trail of blood appearing immediately where the knife had sliced the skin. He tried it again, this time harder. The pain was relieving. Now blood was pouring from both wrists, creating red rivulets running down both his arms. He crawled to the loose floorboard, extracting Sirius' last letter to him. Cradling it and smiling softly, he closed his eyes.

---

Petunia Dursley stared at the closed room door that housed her nephew. She had sensed that something was wrong ever since he had come back from that freak school. He had kept to himself, hardly eating anything. Especially these two days, she had gotten no response even having rapped numerous times on the door.

Would something have happened? What if he died in the house? No, that would not do. They wouldn't want him dead on their hands. She had better go in and check, Petunia finally decided.

Using a spare key, she opened Harry's room door. She did not notice the limp figure on the floor until Dudley, who was behind her, screamed. Was he dead? The sheer amount of blood on the floor did nothing to dispel that worry.

She went closer, cautiously putting a trembling finger below his nose…