Harry dreaded the coming holidays.
Over the last days of school, Madam Pomfrey had him check in with her in the morning and afternoon, to make sure his fever wouldn't suddenly return. Harry knew it wouldn't, but Riddle didn't want anyone knowing he now resided in Harry's head. Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to tell anyone either, but the thought of dealing with the Dursleys and the voice of Tom Riddle, who Harry now knew was a young Voldemort, didn't sound like anything worth being happy over. He still tried to seem at least relieved that exams had been canceled.
The entire train ride back to London Harry spent with Hermione and the Weasleys bar Percy, who was sitting with the other prefects, trying not to think about the summer ahead.
The Dursleys now knew that he wasn't allowed to use magic away from Hogwarts. The one thing giving him a modicum of peace during the summer was gone now. He would once again face the full brunt of the Dursleys ire.
And now he had Riddle to worry about. What would change by having a facet of his mortal enemy in his head?
How would Riddle react to the Dursleys? Would he have ideas on how they might make Harry's life worse? Or would he be protective of Harry through his own interests? Harry was a walking, thinking, breathing replacement for the diary after all. Would Riddle survive, if Harry were to die? Would he take Harry's place, and use his body similar to how he had used Ginny, but more permanent?
Harry shook off those thoughts before his friends could notice anything. He didn't want them worrying about him.
All too soon they arrived at Kings Cross, and everyone gathered their trunks and pets, before disembarking.
Harry followed the mass of people heading for the barrier between the Hogwarts Express and muggle London, dread beginning to pool in his gut. He almost hoped that the Dursleys had just decided not to come. Then maybe he could go with the Weasleys. The summer would be much more enjoyable at the Borrow, and he might actually get his homework done early. Or at all.
But when he passed through the magical barrier, he had only to glance over the crowd once, before he spotted Uncle Vernon. The large man, if possible, looked even less inviting then usual. His mustache looked like it was bristled in anger and distaste, and when his eyes landed on Harry, they narrowed.
Yep. Harry was in for it this summer.