Uncle Vernon didn't speak a word till they got to the car; "Get in boy." 'Boy' was pronounced as something distasteful. Harry knew this would be another pleasant summer at the Dursleys. And to think that he had left his friends and his world only five minutes ago.
During the drive to Little Whinging Uncle Vernon again said not a word. The silence was unnerving. If he'd been sneered at, he would at least know what was going on, but this silence projected all kinds of horrors into Harry's head. What where the Dursleys up to? Harry kept wondering.
Then his mind turned to the events of the last task. Pure unadulterated guilt swept though him; the memory was always there humming in his mind, building guilt upon guilt but from time to time it would fully consume him, a time such as now.
Harry was still condemning himself for Cedric's death and nothing anyone had said about 'it not being his fault had changed that feeling, although on a rational level he knew they were right. Nothing the Dursleys could do to him would atone for his mistakes; he deserved it all...
At 4 Privet Drive Uncle Vernon turned on Harry and said: "There will be no 'funny business' this year, your aunt Petunia is in a bad way and she needs her rest and her medication. You will go to your room and stay there unless I say otherwise. You will keep the house clean, cook our meals and make yourself useful if and when I let you out of your room. Do you understand me boy?"
Harry only nodded, to numb to say anything.
"I said: Do you understand boy?" Uncle Vernon bellowed, anger and hate clear in his eyes.
"Yes Uncle Vernon" Harry replied weakly, to caught up in guilt to feel anything else.
Uncle Vernon then marched into the house, clearly expecting Harry to do the same. Harry lifted his things and followed.