Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter. I own nothing, except the stuff you don't recognize from the books.

Summary:My first ever attempt at a Severitus Challenge. Set just after the death of Sirius Black, doesn't really follow HBP or DH. Contains mild violence and swears. Rated 17.

A/N I am rewriting this fic, it previously had a lot of holes in the plot which made it difficult to write and I found it was a little to wordy. Essentially I didn't like the way it was going so Im changing it slightly. Im also in need of a BETA so please PM me.

Scars

Chapter One:

"Come on you can do better than that!" Sirius yelled his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quiet yet but his eyes widened in shock.

As Harry ran down the stone steps again, pulling out his wand, heading toward the dais. Where it seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.

Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.

Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing – nothing. Sirius had only just fallen through the archway; he would reappear from the other side any second…

But Sirius did not reappear.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS!"

Hundreds of miles away from the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter woke up with a start, screaming for his godfather.

Harry stopped crying out for Sirius when he heard his Uncle's fist banging on the wall. Eyes blank and staring at the sickly peach colour of Aunt Petunias choosing, fear was coursing through his veins as he silently prayed his uncle would turn over and go back to sleep. Harrys pounding heart began to calm as the minutes ticked by and he heard a loud distinctive snore that was most definitely issued from one very tiered Vernon Dursley.

Ever since the incident at Kings Cross station, whereby several members of the Order of the Phoenix had threatened Vernon Dursley, Harry's life living at number four privet drive had become near unbearable. Something he had never thought possible.

Harry forced himself up, and made his way over to the mirror attached to the door of his wardrobe. His emerald eyes shot to the fifteen year old scar, just visible underneath his jet black hair. Normally his hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions a classic Potter trait he had inherited from his father, now however cold sweat plastered it to his forehead.

Since Harry had returned from school he had sunk further and further into depression. It was as though something had broken in him. He was even contemplating not returning to the wizarding world in September.

He wished he could return to a time when he was safely locked in his cupboard and his biggest worry was the state his hair was in, after an evening of Aunt Petunia attacking it with scissors.

Harry smiled as he remembered his Aunts endless attempts to tame his hair. Suddenly anger licked his insides and burned in the back of his throat.

Harry brought his fist up and felt the glass shatter as it collided with his knuckles.

Slowly he slid down onto the floor where he buried his face in his hands. His heart aching with the pain, Sirius's death still fresh in his mind, like a knife piercing his chest he couldn't breathe, the guilt of showing some form of happiness smothered him.

Harry grabbed the pillow from his bed and broke down; he crushed his face against it in a hope to silence his sobs.

A/N Please Review