Harry thought this was possibly the worst summer he had ever experienced as he sat on his aunt and uncle's back steps in the sweltering summer heat. This was saying quite a bit as pretty much all of his summers were terrible. He was even starting to think this was worse than the summer he spent playing an involuntary game of hide and seek from Dudley and his friends. Every time he was found resulted in a beating. At least that summer, he knew what the threat was. This summer, he had been left completely in the dark.

Harry thought this was particularly unfair considering that if it weren't for him, no one would even know there was a threat at all. He was the one who told them of Voldemort's return after all. He knew things would change, but what he didn't expect was the complete and utter silence. Since summer began, he had been anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far the Daily Prophet hadn't mentioned a word of Voldemort's return. Instead, all it did was mock him and Dumbledore.

He had spent the entire summer with only the harsh words of the Prophet for company. One would thing they would get tired of printing the same thing over and over again, but every day was some new variation of the crazed boy who lived. The more he read, the more he began to think maybe he was all the things they said.

But the worst of it all was the lack of communication from his friends. The handful of letters he had received were short, vague, and all as disappointing as the first. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed inclined to share any news with him. And yet, based on the way they worded their letters, he knew they had some.

"We've been told not to tell you anything…It's been rather busy here, but we'll have to fill you in later."

And so it was obvious that they knew things they wouldn't tell Harry. To make matters worse, it sounded as though they were together. None of it made any sense to Harry. Why would they be together and leave him all alone in the muggle world? Wasn't he the one Voldemort wanted? Didn't that make him the one in the most danger? And yet, nothing. No visits. No calls. No useful letters. Not even from Sirius, who he had expected to be on his side.

"Don't do anything rash," his letters had said.

That was rich coming from Sirius. Harry had believed that his godfather of all people would understand the overwhelming grief and anguish he was going through. It had only been a few months since he had watched Cedric die and barely escape with his ow life. He still had nightmares of the cemetery nearly every night. And still, everyone he loved had abandoned him right when he needed it the most. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't be here for him, knowing what he had been through, what he was going through.

Unless, the voice in the back of his head piped up. Unless they don't really care about you.

Harry wanted those thoughts to stop. He kept reminding himself that he knew his friends better than that. That they really were his friends. That they cared. But it was so hard to convince himself when everything pointed to the other direction.

Just as Harry was scanning the sky for the hundredth time hoping despite knowing better for an owl bringing him news, a loud, echoing crack startled him from his perch on the porch steps. He yanked his wand out of his pocket as he leapt to his feet and started scanning the area. He had every intention to search the area for the witch or wizard he was certain he had just heard apparate, but before he could step down his upper arm was caught in a tight grip. He turned only to find his face inches from Uncle Vernon's.

"Pick it up!" He snarled at Harry. "Before anyone sees!"

When Harry turned he saw no sign of a witch or wizard, but he saw several of their neighbors' faces peering out of their windows. He hastily stuffed his wand into his pocket and yanked his arm from his uncle's grip as his uncle offered platitudes to satisfy the neighbors' curiosity.

"What the devil are you doing?" asked Uncle Vernon when they had all gone.

"I'm not doing anything," said Harry coldly.

"What about that racket right outside—"

"I didn't make that noise," said Harry firmly. Uncle Vernon started to respond, but Harry no longer cared to listen. He turned and took off down the street barely listening to his uncle's shouting. He knew he would have to pay for his actions when he returned, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. He was certain he had just heard the sound of a wizard dissapparating. It was the same sound Dobby had made.

It didn't make any sense thought Harry. Why would a wizard be feet from him and not come to speak with him? Was he being watched? As he walked street after street, his thoughts began spiraling down the same path they had been all summer. Harry was starting to question whether they even cared about him at all.

Useless. Crazy. Dangerous. Unloved.

"They wouldn't even have known about Voldemort if it wasn't for me!" Harry said to himself angrily. "I was the one who was targeted. I was the one who fought him. I was the one who watched Cedric d…"

Harry choked on the words. It seemed like instead of getting easier with time everything got worse. He didn't know whether to be sad, hurt, or angry. Most days it felt like he was all three at once. He felt overwhelmed by it all and just needed someone to talk to. He had tried reaching out to Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and even Dumbledore. From the latter he heard nothing. The rest all gave him the same platitudes.

"Don't hesitate to write…you'll be able to come soon…it's not quite time yet."

He was sick of it. Infuriated with their excuses. Just as his mind was starting to spiral, Harry was startled out of his thoughts by voices at the end of the street. He looked up to see Dudley and his friends. He waited until Dudley's friends walked in the other direction before catching up with his cousin. He wasn't in the mood for that kind of confrontation today. All the emotions that had welled up inside left him too exhausted to fight with the others. That didn't mean he couldn't bother Dudley though.

"Sup Big D," Harry said.

Dudley turned and scowled when he realized it was Harry. "Shut it."

"Cool nickname," Harry said with a grin. "But you'll always be Ickly Diddykins to me."

"SHUT IT!" yelled Dudley as his hands curled into fists.

"Oh come on 'popkin' don't you like that name?"

Dudley didn't respond. It seemed stopping himself from hitting Harry was taking all his effort. For a fleeting moment, it made Harry feel better knowing he was getting under Dudley's skin. But the moment soon ended, Harry knew stooping to Dudley's level wouldn't help him in the long run. He decided to let it go, but it was too late. Dudley had been threatened and he wasn't backing down.

"You think you're so smart huh?" Dudley said. "You're a big man at your freak school, huh? Your friends know how scared you get a night?"

"What are you on about Duddykins?" asked Harry. "In case you haven't noticed," Harry gestured around them, "it is night."

"Oh yeah, then you should be gearing up. All that crying and moaning should be starting any minute now."

"What crying?"

Dudley started mimicking a high-pitched cry. "Don't kill Cedric! Please not Cedric! Help me Mum! You miss your Mum Potter?"

"Shut up," Harry said quietly.

"Mum he's killed Cedr…" Dudley stopped abruptly as he backed into a wall with Harry's wand at his throat.

"Never. Mention. That. Again," Harry snarled.

"Get that thing away—" Dudley was cut off a second time. This time is wasn't Harry, but a piercing cold that went straight to your soul. Harry glanced around and noticed the night was black and there wasn't another soul or sound nearby.

For a moment, Harry thought he had done it by accident, but he quickly realized the only thing that could make the stars go out and the summer heat turn to winter. In front of him, Dudley was whining at him to stop what he was doing.

"It's not me," said Harry, while trying not to panic. It can't be he thought. They can't possibly be in Little Whinging. "Come on we have to hurry." But before they could take a step, Harry heard what he had been dreading: a long, hoarse, rattling breath. Harry's burgeoning panic quickly turned to dread.

"Cut it out! I'll hit you!"

"Dudley, be quiet…" WHAM!

Before Harry knew it he was on the ground with white lights dancing across his eyes. His wand had flown out of his hand, and his head felt as though he had taken a bludger to the skull. He heard Dudley stumbling down the alley.

"DUDLEY COME BACK YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!

He knew his warning was too late when he heard Dudley's footsteps stop and a quick yell. Before he could react, he felt a chill creep up behind him, which meant there was more than one. He snatched his wand and turned to come face-to-face with a towering, hooded figure. Harry knew the spell he needed to do, but he couldn't concentrate.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A weak mist sprouted from Harry's wand. The dementor brought its hood closer to Harry's face as he struggled to think up a happy memory. He knew he just needed to concentrate, but the dementor was bringing up all the negative feelings he'd been having all summer. The only memory that he could conjure was the cemetery. All he could see was Cedric's face as he was struck with the killing curse.

A pair of gray, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the dementor's robes, reaching for Harry. He couldn't hear Dudley anymore, only the high-pitched screaming in his own head that so often came with dementor attacks and the new mantra that had consumed him all summer.

Useless. Crazy. Dangerous. Unloved.

He was still picturing the cemetery as he tried the spell again, only to earn another silver wisp. His mother's screaming was in his ears and Cedric's face before his eyes. Right as he was about to give into the despair, it hit him. His mother. Suddenly he recalled seeing her face and hearing her voice tell him "it will be alright." As her voice filled his head replacing the mantra he fought for breath—

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

To Harry's great relief, his silver stag burst from his wand and caught the dementor in its antlers. It tossed the dementor away before turning and heading towards Dudley's. After the stag had swept that one away too, it turned to give Harry one last look before dissolving into mist. Immediately, the stars and streetlamps burst back into life. The summer heat came creeping back in and the noises of the neighborhood returned.

Harry could not believe what had just happened, and yet, he could feel a sense of pride that he had managed for a moment to let go of the negativity that had plagued him all summer. And then he turned to look at Dudley, curled up on the ground whimpering in fear and everything came rushing back in. Before Harry could check to see if he was okay, he heard footsteps approaching and turned to face the newcomer with his wand raised.

Mrs. Figg came scrambling around the corner and, as Harry made to hide his wand, shrieked at him, "Don't put it away boy! What if they come back? I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Wait, what?" said Harry blankly.

"He left!" said Mrs. Figg. "He was supposed to watch you today and he left to see about some stolen cauldrons! Now look what's happened."

Harry's senses finally caught up with him and he stared at Mrs. Figg in shock.

"You're a witch!?"

"I'm a squib, which Mundungus knows full well. But he still went off and left you unprotected!"

"Wait, he was following me?"

"Oh come now, you don't think they left you unattended all this time?"

Mrs. Figg kept prattling on about Mundungus and telling Dumbledore, but Harry wasn't listening anymore. Not only had he been kept in the dark all summer, but rather than bring him into the fold, they had spied on him from a distance. Numbly, he heard Mrs. Figg barking instructions at him. He helped get Dudley to his feet and start lugging him towards home.

Mrs. Figg kept up a steady stream of chatter, cursing Mundungus and the state of affairs they were in, but Harry was lost in his own mind. He didn't know whether to be hurt or angry. He felt betrayed.

Why couldn't they just let me stay with Ron and Hermione if they're so worried? If they cared so much why did they leave me all alone?"

Harry saw Cedric's face float across his vision again, and for a moment he felt as though the dementor had returned. When he really thought about it, it was almost as though one had been there all summer. In Little Whinging, life went on as normal. But Harry knew his life would never be normal again.

For a split second, he wanted nothing more than to speak with his friends, or Sirius. Then, he remember how they had ignored his pleas for help all summer and instead watched from afar as he crumbled. When it really came down to it, Harry thought, they could all go to hell.