The Dursleys

                                    

                                          
A/N
I do not own any of these characters nor the Harry Potter universe. They all belong to JK Rowling. 
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Cedric's reaching out to me and he hears the voice. 
                          
"Kill the spare" 
                          
And all of a sudden Cedric's sprawled on the ground. 
                          
The scene shifts and he's tied to the grave watching Voldemort rise, watching him walk towards him, his finger reaching towards him...
                          
Harry bolted straight up in bed, breathing hard. The dream fresh in his head, his scar pounding. He looked around wildly for a second before bursting into tears. 
                          
"God why does this always happen to me"  He whispers to himself after a while. 
                          
He sat in his bed for what felt like hours and hours until the sun came up and he heard the Dursley's starting to move, which meant he had to start going as well. 
                          
He dragged himself out of bed and slowly got himself ready for the day, putting on a shirt and combing through his unruly hair with his hands. Letting his emotions shut off into that now familiar numbness that he'd been feeling since the end of the Triwizard Tournament. 
                          
Sometimes he tried to fight it, the numbness, but usually it didn't work. Sometimes it just doesn't  come, like last night, and he's stuck with all this overwhelming sadness. It's crushing when he feels it, so he's come to enjoy the numb. 
                          
Then he heard Aunt Petunia calling him. 
                          
"Harry get down here and start on breakfast!!" 
                          
He sighed and made his way down the stairs to the Dursley's kitchen. He automatically started making copious amounts of eggs, bacon, and potatoes in order to satisfy the beasts that were his cousin, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon. 
                          
They ate like pigs and Harry didn't understand how they do it, especially now that he wasn't really eating. It's not like he meant to stop eating, he just kept forgetting about it. And he wasn't very hungry anymore anyways so he supposed it didn't make too much of a difference. 
                          
"Hurry up there boy! I need to eat and so does Dudley here after those demonteraters" Thundered Uncle Vernon. Reminding Harry yet again of the Dementor attack just a few nights ago that had resulted in him getting multiple letters from the Ministry Of Magic and the possibility of getting expelled from Hogwarts. 
                          
He for some reason hadn't gotten into too much trouble at the Dursley's, Aunt Petunia has miraculously defended him after receiving a strange howler. 
                          
Harry began obediently bringing the large plates of food over to the table setting them down quickly. That's how he ended up burning himself on a particularly hot plate, he went to pick it up and it had burned his hand. He had yelped and pulled away, more out of instinct then pain, resulting in him spilling the plate and it's contents all over the clean kitchen floor, which is how he managed to be locked up in his room on Sunday, August the 6th. 
                          
The Dursley's had gone out for the day and he wasn't to do anything, not that he was planning on it anyways, when he heard something downstairs. A few thuds were emanating from the kitchen below and if Harry strained his ears hard enough he could hear low whispers. He knew he should be concerned, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. The Dursley's couldn't possibly blame him for it because he was locked in his room. Except, Now he wasn't. He had just heard the lock click into the unlocked position. 
He was a little confused and so debated on checking it out. 
                          
Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he slowly made his way over to the door, opened it quietly, and walked out. He quickly walked down the hall towards the stairs, listening hard for the robbers. Wait. No he had just heard one. Not a robber, But a very familiar voice. He carefully walked down the stairs and gasped at the congregation of people in the front hall. 
                          
"Hello Harry"