A/N: This was an idea for a fic I've had for a while now. Enjoy!
Harry Potter looked around number 4 Privet Drive, and it never looked like more of a hell than when he had no place to escape to. Or maybe the dull aching in his chest just blocked out what feeling for the world he had left, the feeling that allowed happiness, or even content, elsewhere in the world than where it never was.
The pain Harry felt with the loss of Sirius Black, his godfather, was worse than any pain he had ever felt, including the Cruciatus Curse. Harry just stood there, lost in thought he wanted to escape.
"Quit standing there, boy!" Harry's uncle, Vernon, hissed at him.
Harry made to grab his trunk to spare himself from his uncle's obvious wrath, but Vernon used his foot to shove the trunk into him, causing Harry to fall first back onto the trunk, then hit the floor hard. Thankfully, his glasses didn't break, although it felt as if his nose had.
Not really caring, or wanting to, since his godfather no longer could, Harry pushed himself up, rubbing his stinging nose. So what? his mind thought savagely. It's not like you never been thrown around before! And Sirius... Sirius...Harry was ready to cry, thinking of Sirius again. His godfather was dead, and was never coming back! Sirius had said he'd always be there if Harry needed him, so where was he now? He was dead! And Harry needed him!
Horror and regret instantly filled the young wizard's chest. How could he think such a thing? How could he ever think that about Sirius? He loved Sirius! Even if he never had the chance to tell him before...
"I'm so s-sorry," he muttered to the deceased.
"For your sorry existence, I hope," his uncle sneered.
Harry could feel Uncle Vernon holding himself back while the front door was still open. He dreaded it as Dudley and Petunia moved around the scene in the hallway when the door shut.
"Perhaps you're too stupid to understand when I mean GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by his shirt and threw him into the banister, causing his glasses to fall off and break.
"Vernon, don't hurt the boy! What will the neighbors think if they see him with bruises all over his face? They'll tell those- those people for sure!" Harry's aunt said, as Dudley snickered at Harry being thrown around like some old ragdoll.
Her husband's hand, raised to strike Harry's now throbbing face, instead went to his own face, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.
"Neighbors, yes. Those freaks will surely come running if the neighbors talk."
Upon hearing this, Dudley made his way into the kitchen, believing that to be the end of the show, and taking great care to step on his cousin's glasses, shattering them, easily, under his enormous weight.
Harry heard the breaking of glass and metal and knew he'd be spending that summer blind. His uncle would never take him to get new glasses, especially now.
"Oh well," Uncle Vernon said nastily, "looks like you'll have to write your no good godfather for a new pair of glasses. Too bad he went and got himself killed!" His laugh was maniacal.
Harry felt the anger bubbling up inside of him. "Shut up!"
Vernon's eyes flashed dangerously. "What did you say to me?!"Harry had never told his uncle to 'shut up' before, but he wasn't about to back down; Sirius wouldn't have if it were Harry someone was having a go at. "I told you to shut up about my godfather!"
Uncle Vernon's fist collided with his nephew's face, forcing his already painful head back into the banister.
"Vernon, the neighbors!" Aunt Petunia warned, whispering nervously and glancing out the nearest window as if expecting to see a neighbor's face pressed up against the glass.
"Right..." Uncle Vernon agreed. "Boy! Clean up this mess and out of our sight!" He grabbed Harry by his collar and threw him near the broken glasses.
Harry cried out in pain as glass cut up his left hand and wrist.
"And that trunk had best not move!" his uncle warned before stepping on Harry's hand, causing the glass to embed deeper into his flesh as his fingers were crushed.
"AHH!" Harry looked around, his vision blurrier than it should have been, squinting. Despite all the pain, Harry sensed something couldn't be right as his uncle thundered into the kitchen. "Wait! What are you doing with Hedwig?!" She began to create a racket in her cage, now that she, too, understood something was more wrong than normal.
"The effing bird's not leaving my sight! You think I'd actually let you write to those freaks without my supervision? Ha! Shut up!" he roared, shaking the cage and owl alike.
"Don't hurt her!"
"Hurt it? And have the damn animal loving freaks at my doorstep?" Uncle Vernon seemed a dangerous combination of annoyed and angry. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
Harry felt his eye's cloud over with tears as he lost his only friend in the house. Cradling his bleeding hand, he ran upstairs, leaving the remains of his glasses, and not stopping until he reached the bathroom.
Tears finally ran down the wizards face as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning against his bed, and holding his shabbily bandaged wrist and hand. Even with his wand, Harry knew it wouldn't have made much of a difference, except, maybe, he could have gotten out some more of the tiny shards of glass that were putting him so much physical agony, although nothing could top the loss of Sirius.
Harry wished he could see his godfather now, just to talk to Sirius one more time. He'd give anything to have him back... Anything.
And so, amidst a fit of tears for his dead godfather, and holding close a bleeding arm, Harry Potter fell asleep, realizing that this was it, in attempt to escape the nightmare that had become his life.
A/N: If this doesn't make much sense to the basic plot of the story (although it hasn't really begun yet) it will soon. Please review.