It was late morning by the time Harry descended the stairs of four Privet Drive. It was not that he was a late riser; it was merely a case of not wanting to face the Dursleys. The Dursleys were the only people on earth he feared. Not even Lord Voldemort could make him cower like the Dursleys did. It was ridiculous, they were meant to be his family but they still insisted on intimidating and abusing him.
So that's how Harry Potter spent his summer vacation. Hiding in his bedroom until his relatives left for the day and then taking full reign of the house during their absence. Free to do what ever he wanted.
Harry stayed at the Dursley's house until one hot night half way through the summer, when he fled the wretched house. His uncle was in a particularly hostile and inhospitable mood that night and decided to take his frustration out on his ungrateful nephew. Although being used to his uncle's violent outbursts, Harry was sick of it and left.
He packed his stuff and marched through the front door, with Hedwig's cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other. He staggered down the street with his trunk lagging behind him until he reached the end of the street, where he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the road. He waited a moment until he heard the familiar sounds of the Knight Bus pulling up in front of him. He looked up to see the face of Stan Shunpike leering at him through the glass panel on the door.
Harry payed the eleven sickles to get to London and sat on the seat farthest away from Stan, he wasn't in the mood for the man's irritating rambling. Although being the bumpiest and most nauseating form of travel, Harry dozed off several times during the trip between Privet Drive and the Leaky Cauldron. After what felt like ages Harry was jolted awake by the yelling of Stan, he was finally at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry was greeted by Tom, the owner of the Leak Cauldron, once he got off the bus. Apparently Dumbledore had warned him of Harry's arrival, how Dumbledore knew Harry was on his way was a mystery. Harry couldn't imagine the Dursleys contacting him and doubted Dumbledore would keep tabs on him. After all, he was just a student.
After he made arrangements with Tom, Harry found himself in his room face down on the bed, where he fell into a restless sleep.
He dreamt of familiar slivery blonde hair and a feeling similar to content. He couldn't quite place it though.
