The Summer So Far

Walking towards the front door of the Dursley's home, Harry was sure that his heart had never felt heavier. From his point of view, to return to number four Privet Drive was the last kick when he was already down.

As soon as he stepped into Uncle Vernon's car, Harry was sure it was going to be the longest, most depressing summer of his life. Every year at Hogwarts, prior to the fourth, he found himself leaving the school a bit sad to see it end, but overall in good spirits. However, once again, Voldemort had found a way to wreck one of the few things in his life he was able to cherish.

The guilt he felt from his fellow Hogwarts Champion's death continued to overwhelm him through the end of the school year and it still continued. Harry couldn't get the image of Cedric's lifeless body sprawled out next to him, just laying there while he was powerless to save his life.

"Kill the spare"

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised.

"Move boy," grunted Vernon as he pushed Harry through the open front door, hurtling his mind back to where he was. Harry stumbled through the door and caught himself, almost crashing into the staircase from his uncle's effort.

"I'm going to bed," muttered Harry as he began to trudge up the stairs towards Dudley's old room.

"Like hell you are," said Uncle Vernon angered by his nephew's insolence. "You will go to bed after you finish your chores. We've had enough of your lack of gratitude, from now on you will pull your weight around this house," yelled Vernon. The anger in his face slowly turned into a smirk, "and that starts with cleaning the bathroom upstairs. Dudley has a bit of a stomach virus, I'm sure you'll love the dinner he left for you."

Harry started to walk upstairs, hardly being able to restrain himself while he seethed with anger. The only thing that kept him in check was the letter he received from the Ministry of Magic the last time magic was used against a muggle in the house.

"And get this bloody trunk out of the middle of the hallway," yelled Harry's uncle up the stairwell.

It was going to be a long summer.

_________

After inspection, it was deemed that Harry did a despicable job cleaning the upstairs bathroom, Aunt Petunia had found three specks of dirt and a small piece of hair on the sink, and Harry was sent to his room with no dinner.

He looked down at his bed, devoid of sheets, a pillow, or even a blanket. Harry flipped open his trunk and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak throwing it on his bed to use as a pillow. Before he shut the trunk again, he grabbed his ink well, a quill and a sheet of parchment. He sat down at his desk by the open window, looking out to see the moon peering back at him. He found his mind wondering to his godfather and began to write...

Dear Sirius,

I just wanted to let you know that I made it safely back to the

Dursley's. Naturally, they are being filthy gits as usual. Mrs. Weasley

said that I may be able to spend the end of the summer at the Burrow,

guess I'll just have to hope until then... Stay safe and write back soon.

-Harry

He folded the parchment and tied it to Hedwig's leg, giving her a few owl treats before opening the window to release her.

"Could you take this to Sirius," Harry asked Hedwig. She gave his fingers an affectionate little nibble, and in one swoop of her wings was off into the moonlit sky. He watched her fly away until she was a snowy white speck, far in the distance.

Seeing, as there wasn't anything else for him to do, Harry took off his clothes, throwing them in the closet, and changed into his pajamas. He walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, trying to get comfortable.

He knew as soon as he was lying in his bed for a few minutes that even though he was tired beyond belief, sleep would not come easy that night. Since the day of the third task in the tournament, he had barely gotten a few hours sleep each night. The sounds and visions of Voldemort's revival raced through his mind depriving him of any pleasant thoughts. After the fourteenth time he was jerked awake from his nightmares, he decided that trying to sleep was futile. He rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock, 'Only five in the morning,' he thought to himself, struggling to get out of bed.

Walking downstairs as quietly as possible, Harry went straight for the kitchen. Having been deprived of dinner last night he made his way right to the refrigerator pulling out some eggs. While Harry wasn't the greatest cook in the world, he had learned to manage since he was very young; owing to the fact that Aunt Petunia tended to burn everything she made for him. He wished he could just magically whip something up, but besides the fact that it would be illegal, he didn't have any idea how to do it. Thoughts of Dobby, the house elf whom he freed from the Malfoy's, popped into his mind. Harry would have given anything to be able to just walk down to the Hogwarts kitchen and have the house elves make him a meal, just as he had before a few times with his best friends.

He found his thoughts wondering to his best friends, Ron and Hermione. He knew Ron had to be having a good time on break, with Fred and George to amuse him how could he not. Harry could picture the Weasley family enjoying a game of Quidditch behind the magical house that was The Burrow.

'I just hope I can join them sometime before school starts, because there's no way I'll be able to survive this,' thought Harry.

Ron probably wasn't the only one having fun though, he knew that his other best friend Hermione was sure to be enjoying herself just as much. He laughed to himself as he pictured her working on her summer homework on the first day of vacation.

'The funny thing is,' he thought to himself, 'that's probably exactly what she'll do when she gets up.'

One thing that kept going through his mind was that she kissed him, albeit on the cheek, when she said goodbye to him. He couldn't help but notice that she hadn't kissed Ron goodbye, which made him smile now that he pondered it. Her lips had felt so soft on his cheek, a gentle reassurance that everything would be all right.

Harry had begun to look at her a bit differently, ever since her teeth were altered by Madam Pomfrey, due to the errant duel between Malfoy and himself. Even so, when he saw her at the ball he was utterly amazed, she looked more beautiful then anyone there.

'I probably should have told her that too, then she wouldn't be all hung up on Krum, that stupid part,' he thought to himself, somewhat shocked at his own harsh feelings towards the Quidditch superstar.

He was propelled back to reality by the smell of burning; he turned around and looked to see two heavily scorched and moderately flaming scrambled eggs. Grabbing a cup of water, he doused the flames and after they were extinguished, couldn't help but double over in laughter at his own obliviousness.