Unpredictable Life

~ Chapter 1: Loneliness ~

The farewells of his friends were so ingrained his mind that he could replay their conversations mentally as his uncle drove them all back to Privet Drive. Harry carefully blanked his mind as they turned a corner but he felt a pang of sorrow all the same. Sirius. Bounding along with us. He shook his head a little, aware that Dudley was looking weirdly at him.

"What?" the boy-wizard asked quietly.

"N-Nothing," his cousin replied quickly.

Harry snorted under his breath and looked out the car window again. Three men, dressed in magnificent black suits were staring at him from across the street. He saw Tonks approach them calmly and whisper into the ear of one. The man nodded, signaled to his companions and they separated. Tonks seemed to notice that Harry had been watching them and casually gave him a thumbs-up sign.

"Will those things come back?" Dudley asked suddenly and his father glanced back at him with a scowl.

"Dementors? I have no idea," Harry answered. "It is just as well that you ask though. You should know they revolted against the wizarding Ministry. Maybe they'll run amok this summer. Who knows?"

"Do not step out of the house," Aunt Petunia instructed coldly.

"Whatever," the Gryffindor mumbled. He leaned back in his seat, arms hugging Hedwig's cage, and continued to watch the passing traffic warily. His whole demeanor suggested that he wasn't in the mood for conversation and the Dursleys left him alone. The entire journey back to the Dursleys' home was quiet and dull and for once, Harry was glad that it was. Sirius, forgive me. The Gryffindor closed his eyes, feeling secure enough to nap.

~*~

"Wake up, Potter."

Harry's eyes opened immediately but his mind was blurred with fatigue and confusion. He remained in the car seat, staring at the house in perplexity.

"Get moving, boy!" Uncle Vernon snapped, glaring at him with impatience.

Harry finally managed to get his limbs moving and got out of the car in an almost befuddled state while his uncle lifted his school trunk. What on earth did they do to the house? The boy-wizard asked himself. It looks different. He looked at the Dursleys' for an explanation.

"Don't stand there! Move!" Even his aunt seemed incredibly peevish.

The moment he stepped into the house, he could see that the changes were even more pronounced. In every corner of the house, even the doorways, there seemed to be chained crystals dangling from the wall. Is that jade? And emerald? He was astonished that his relatives were actually tolerating magical instruments in the house. His aunt quickly disappeared into the kitchen and Harry distantly heard his Uncle talking to his wife about getting some groceries. The Gryffindor struggled to carry his schoolbag, trunk and Hedwig's cage upstairs to his room.

"Three women, including Mrs. Figg, came to the house a week ago," Dudley informed him and Harry was a little surprised at the voluntary news.

"They're the ones responsible for the jewels and decorations then?" Harry inquired without looking back at his cousin. He was concentrating hard on his luggage and breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the landing.

"Yes, but what good will they do?"

"Jade at least will bring in fortune. That's all I know." Harry shrugged and kicked his door open. He dragged his trunk in and the play of colors near the window made him pause. The wind-chime, decorated with several chains of crystals around it, was peaceful to look at. Harry was unsure if that was its only property.

"Hey, Potter," Dudley called out again.

"What?" Harry frowned, wondering why his cousin was still standing by the doorway watching him.

"You won't be mistreated by us," the fat teenager said solemnly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry straightened his back and stared penetratingly at his cousin.

"We're going to Ireland for several weeks. But they said you will have to stay behind. So, you might want to tell your friends that." Dudley turned to go but the boy stopped and glanced at Harry once again. "Thank you." Dudley had spoke so softly that Harry wasn't sure if he had heard it right.

If Harry had thought his cousin's behavior toward him that day was weird, it entered the realm of the unbelievable when Dudley offered to show him how to use a computer two days later in the spare bedroom. Harry's head felt like an overripe pumpkin as his cousin actually forced him to study the manual and lecture notes about using the Muggle machine. Harry was actually quite fascinated by it but the keyboard gave him a headache as well as cramps in his wrists.

"That girlfriend of yours --" Dudley was saying to him.

"What girlfriend?" Harry asked sharply. "I don't have one!"

"That girl with the frizzy hair. She knows about these things right?" Dudley looked at him like a professor would have if he was at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor reluctantly nodded. The big youth pushed him aside and typed something too fast for Harry to catch then proceeded to teach Harry about how the email system works. Aunt Petunia came up to see what the two youngsters were up to and had a wondering look plastered on her face when she saw her son teaching the resident freak something.

"You had better not spoil the computer," Aunt Petunia warned him before leaving them to their own devices.

"So where was I? Yeah, creating your own account," Dudley muttered almost to himself. He was quite proficient at typing and the next thing Harry knew, his cousin asked him to enter either his name or a nickname in a submission box. The boy-wizard looked at his Muggle cousin in bafflement.

Dudley swore something under his breath. "Be quick about it Potter. Your real name or something you make up!"

"All right!" Harry frowned and typed the word 'GreenEyes' slowly.

"Your password."

Harry raised an eyebrow but did as he was instructed. His cousin took over again and filled up more submission boxes.

"Now, you are going to sign-in to your mailbox. Just type GreenEyes and your password. You can figure out how to send letters yourself later."

Two hours passed and it was near dinner time. Harry forced himself to stop and go lie on his bed to ease the headache he had from staring at the computer screen for too long. Hedwig took the opportunity to join him on the bed and the Gryffindor pet his owl. His eyes were fixed on the wind-chime above the window, admiring the effects the crystals produced as sunlight passed through them. He was getting drowsy as he stared intently at it but jerked alert when he heard his aunt shout for him.

"There's a telephone call for you!"

Harry left Hedwig on the bed. He quickly went down the steps and crossed the hall. His aunt looked at him suspiciously as he picked the receiver. "Hello?"

"Is this Mister Harry Potter speaking?" a clear, feminine, business-like voice inquired.

"Yes," Harry replied, a little uncertainly.

"Good evening, Mister Potter!" the voice said cheerfully. "My name is Harietta and I wonder if you could spare several minutes for a survey my company is doing. It concerns the welfare of children living in UK."

"Sure," he responded a little hesitantly.

"Thank you! Firstly, you are Mister Potter, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied, frowning slightly.

"How old are you?"

"I'm nearly sixteen." Harry felt that it was going to be a long telephone call so he took the opportunity to sit on the nearest chair. He heard the woman shuffling some papers.

"What is your horoscope and your element?" the woman asked brightly.

"Uhmmm... Leo and I think it's a fire sign." Where the hell is this survey taking me?

"Have you studied anything in the past two hours?"

"Yes," the Gryffindor answered quickly, ignoring his aunt's inquisitive look.

"What were you studying about?"

"Computer-related stuff."

"I see." Harry heard the faint sound of pen scratching on paper. "Do you have a lot of friends or enemies?"

"Uh, I have no idea."

"Are you a bad-tempered person?"

"Not really."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The woman asked him so enthusiastically that he had to smile.

"No."

"Crushes?"

"I'm not sure," Harry faltered. Does Cho count?

"Ever considered asking one of your teachers out on a date?" the woman rattled out.

"Ummmm ... no, I haven't." He had no idea why he was blushing slightly upon hearing that query.

"Do you have your own room? If you do, is it spacious enough that you don't feel as if you were in a cell?"

"Yes. To both questions."

"Are your relatives treating you well?" the woman sounded truly serious.

"Okay, I guess," the Gryffindor mumbled.

"Do they give you the freedom of doing what you want?"

"Yes." Harry leaned back against the couch and contemplated the woman's voice.

"Have they been feeding you regularly? Do they prepare a balanced meal for you?" Oddly, the way the woman on the phone questioned him brought Mrs. Weasley to mind. "Aren't you supposed to be having dinner now? Did your aunt cook anything for you?" The woman's voice was trembling slightly with mirth and Harry cursed profusely, thinking that he should just put the phone down.

The woman on the phone was cackling madly and Harry heard someone lecturing her about prank calls.

"'Mione, what are you doing?" he asked, feeling very irritated.

"Got you, didn't I?" Harry could almost imagine her toothy grin.

"Yes, you fooled me." He rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Anyways, according to the roster Tonks made up, I was supposed to call you and make sure you're all right," his friend said.

"Roster duty?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes. Bill will be coming to visit you in three days' time. Don't count on Ron turning up though. I don't think Mrs. Weasley forgave him and Ginny for their parts in the Department of Mysteries escapade," she informed him. "I do hope that your uncle won't scream when Bill comes."

"Nah, he won't," Harry replied confidently.

"How can you be so sure?" The boy could hear the scrape of wood as a chair was pulled back.

"You're in the kitchen, aren't you?" the boy asked, smiling a little.

"Well, yes, of course. I'm just about to have dinner," Hermione told him.

"What is your mother cooking?" the emerald-eyed teenager asked in puzzlement.

"It's terribly loud, isn't it?" She giggled. "I dunno but I thought I saw her adding some brandy into the pan." There was a pause and Harry heard Hermione telling someone that she was in the kitchen. "Sorry -- my dad just came home. Hey, you haven't answered my question. Why won't your uncle scream at you when he finds out that magic folk are going to infiltrate the neighborhood?"

Harry made sure that he spoke in a low voice as he answered his friend's inquiry. "They're leaving for a vacation. They won't be here from Thursday onwards."

"What?" Hermione yelped loudly into the phone. "Oh damn!" she cursed. Harry was taken aback by her language -- it was the first time that he could recall her swearing -- and he distinctly heard something metal clatter to the floor. "Sorry Mum!"

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yeah, it's just a knife. I'm making salad," the girl replied shortly.

"Hermione, be careful when you're handling sharp objects. What if it had been a cleaver and it accidentally dropped on your toes?" The raven-haired Gryffindor shuddered at the image.

"I'm fine, really! Tell you what. I'll call you later tonight. I've got to owl Tonks. Surely the Order won't feel that secure leaving you alone in the house," her voice trailed off.

"Well, okay then. Talk to you later."

"Okay! Bye Harry! Have a good dinner!"

"You too."

~*~

Friday, 19^th July 1996.

It was peculiarly silent in the Dursley home. There was only one occupant in the house and it was their unwanted resident, Harry James Potter. The nearly-sixteen year old boy sat dreamily in the living room, staring blankly at the window. His relatives were gone for a vacation and since their home was the only one true place Harry could live in safety, he was left behind -- not that his relatives would have taken him along anyway.

Harry sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Twenty-seven days before I get the chance to step into Diagon Alley. He let out another long sigh and absently massaged his aching fingers, looking down at the drawing on his lap. The funny feeling in his gut intensified and he felt himself blush hotly. I never knew that I'd be into this sort of thing. His eyes happened upon the mess of color pencils on the sofa -- and the floor. Damn...

A week ago, Bill, Remus and Moody had come to number four, Privet Drive, a day after Harry's relatives had left the house for the holidays. The three members of the Order brought with them food items and books that Hermione and Remus thought would be of use to him. Bill had brought him a huge bag of drawing blocks and coloring materials. Harry had looked at him askance, but the older Weasley shrugged, only saying that he would find use for them when he felt like doing something. Moody, on the other hand, brought nothing more than copies of the Daily Prophet and verbal news.

"The civilians are getting restless and the Ministry finds itself more than just stressed out now," Remus had said quietly as the four sat down for tea.

Moody snorted. "They asked for it. They should have used the respite to build up their defenses -- and rid us of Dementors. Now, the Dark Creatures are on the loose and they're demanding to know why Dumbledore did nothing about them earlier," the wizard said disgustedly.

"In short, they're panicking," Harry observed.

"Right you are," Moody agreed.

"I don't think I want to imagine the next few years ahead of me," Harry said quietly and Remus sighed wearily.

"Don't," Bill advised. "It'll only scare you."

~*~

Back to the Present...

The raven-haired boy pursed his lips and wished he could somehow make the mess disappear just by thinking it away. He slowly rearranged the pencils in a small bag and set it beside the sketchbook then cleaned up any residue and made sure the sofa wasn't smudged from his activity. He trotted upstairs with his belongings and entered his room. Harry hid his drawing materials under his pillow and a wicked smiled played along his lips.

With so much time on his hands, and more privacy than anyone had a right to ask for, Harry had started paying more attention to his body. Perhaps it was wrong of him to have done so, but Harry was mortally tired and needed an outlet to take his mind off his godfather. Those wet nights he had experienced at Hogwarts drove him to find the cause. Curiosity led to masturbation, which then led to the fantasies. Harry hadn't even realized that he had a 'thing' for boys and men until then.

The smile on his face vanished completely and he gave another sigh. The cause of his melancholy was that the person he always thought about at night -- coupled with a strangled scream and an explosive climax -- was impossible to get along with. Why is it that I have crushes on the wrong sort of people? Hah! I should be thankful that I don't fancy Malfoy or the world would surely be coming to an end. He pushed his fringe back behind his ear and wondered how long it would be before he could get someone to trim his hair.

But still... the greasy git? Merlin help me.

He shook his head contritely. I wonder what Ron will say once he learns what my preferences are. He mentally slapped himself when he started thinking about things he shouldn't. Ron is your friend, moron. He likes Hermione, and girls in general. Harry sighed again. When he finally realized that his professor featured in his amorous fantasies too often, he had tried to imagine things that would turn his ardor off. Harry had tried thinking about the Potions Master's ugly teeth but instead, his mind wandered to how the wizard's lips would taste like. He tried to think about the wizard's oily hair but then told himself that it might be silky to the touch.

His stomach suddenly gave a loud protest, thereby scattering the thoughts in his mind. He took his time getting to the kitchen and switched the lights on before looking in the cabinets to see what he would cook that evening. The only thing left for him by his 'kind' relatives were cans and cans of Campbell's soup.

I'm lucky they're all different flavors, Harry thought gloomily. Never mind. If I'm that hungry, the Chocolate Frogs should be enough to tide me over until someone comes for a visit again. He randomly picked a can and searched for a tool to open it. The boy was busy cutting the lid open when there was a knock on the door. Harry froze and strained his ears for further sounds of activity, wondering if he had imagined hearing the noise. Seconds later, the doorbell rang. Who can it be? Moody said he'll be popping in on Sunday. Besides, it's too damned late for anyone to be making a visit. Making sure that his wand was accessible, Harry poked his head through the doorway. He couldn't make anything out since the hall light was off. All he could see was a huge, dark shape through the opaque glass panel. He moved stealthily toward the door. The doorbell rang again and he heard someone swearing softly. It sounded like the bell ringer was impatient.

Why doesn't this door possess a peephole instead? Harry's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He couldn't see who was standing on the front porch without being too obvious. Taking a deep breath, the Gryffindor unlocked the door and opened it slightly to peek out, his vision rapidly adjusting to the lighting outside. His eyes widened when he saw his late caller frozen in action -- the older wizard was just about to ring the doorbell again when the door swung open. This is not happening. He is not here...

"I see that you haven't been grieving, Mister Potter," came the taunting voice.

Greasy bastard. Can't even give someone a proper greeting, can he? Harry opened the door wider and the wind chime directly above his head rang softly. He stood in a way that made it clear he wasn't about to invite the wizard into the house. "What do you want?" the boy asked bluntly, green eyes boring into a pair of dark brown eyes. To his satisfaction, Snape's eyes flickered slightly and it proved to Harry that the wizard had not been expecting a cool reception.

"I repeat, Sir, what do you want?" Harry asked impassively, studying the pale face standing inches above his own. Why the bloody hell can't I grow taller than him? The boy thought sourly. Ron did.

The Potions Master's lips thinned as if he was reluctant to say anything. Harry counted to ten silently. When the wizard remained mute, Harry moved backwards and closed the door, right in his astounded face. The boy crossed the hall and entered the kitchen then resumed his task in opening the can. He threw the unwanted lid into the trash bag and took out a medium-sized pot. He dumped the contents into the clean pot and slowly added a can of plain water mixed with a little bit of full cream milk. Firing up the stove, Harry placed the pot over the flames and stirred the mixture. While waiting for the soup to simmer, he went over to the refrigerator and took out some stalks of spring onion.

As he washed the vegetable in the kitchen sink, he heard the git's voice in his head. 'I see that you haven't been grieving, Mister Potter.' He'll just think that I'm a brat seeking attention if I told him I am just plain too tired to think about grieving. Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I've mourned enough. Sirius is lost to me. There's no way I will ever get him back. Ever.

~*~

How dare he!

The wizard seethed as he paced outside the door. Why in hell did I let that old pigeon talk me into this? The boy doesn't need help! He doesn't want help! He thinks he already knows everything! Snape clenched his fists angrily, black robes whipping about his legs as he stalked along the porch.

That is precisely why the Headmaster sent you,

a remote part of his mind spoke. The boy has hated you ever since he laid eyes on you. Better you than sending someone like Remus, who's close to the boy.

Another part of his mind yelled: Why in the world would I care if he started hating the werewolf for trying to teach him? He quelled his thoughts and tried to think in a more calming manner. For what seemed like the thousandth time since his last meeting with the Headmaster, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and ex-Death Eater asked a silent question while tilting his head back to watch the heavens. Why me?

~*~