Chapter One

One Last Time

His trunk was packed, his owl in her cage. Harry Potter was leaving the Dursleys' for the last time.

In the semi-darkness of predawn, a skinny seventeen-year-old boy with black hair and green eyes glasses dressed silently. His uncle's snores reverberated from across the landing outside, a familiar sound that Harry would be only to glad to be rid of.

The alarm clock on the dresser showed six thirty-six a.m. Harry glanced at it, and then he pulled on his overlarge sweater and a pair of tennis shoes. He didn't even bother combing his hair; it never made a difference anyway.

He crossed to the desk and picked up a large bird cage with a sleeping white owl inside it. She opened one eye sleepily and hooted before putting her head beneath her wing. Harry carried it over to where his trunk sat, waiting for him to take it somewhere.

He opened the door and carried Hedwig, his owl, downstairs and placed the cage on the floor. He ran back upstairs, skipping the bottom step (it squeaked), and five minutes later returned with his trunk, his broomstick balancing precariously on top of it. Then he sat down in the sitting room to wait.

From his pocket he pulled a piece of parchment paper with rather sloppy writing sprawled across it. He read it once again, smiling slightly. It was a letter from his best friend, Ron Weasley.

Harry-

Mum says you can come to our house whenever you're ready. I guess that because Dumbledore said that you need to stay at your aunt and uncle's until your birthday, that it won't be until sometime next week. We can come get you on your birthday if you want us to. Hermione's here, too. Answer me fast!

-Ron

Harry read it several times through, enjoying the knowledge that he would be seeing Ron in barely five minutes.

At exactly six forty-five, there came a soft knock on the door. Harry crossed silently to open it.

Outside stood a tall, gangly teenager with flaming orange hair and freckles, a young lady with bushy brown hair, and a woman with a pale, heart-shaped face and bubble-gum pink hair. The last one grinned. "Wotcher, Harry."

He smiled back. "Hi, Tonks. 'Lo, Ron, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't restrain herself any longer. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, hard. "Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you! Happy birthday!"

He patted her back awkwardly, looking over her shoulder at Ron, who was grinning lopsidedly. "Happy Birthday, mate."

"Thanks. Good to see you," Harry said, pushing Hermione gently away. "Try not to suffocate me, okay Hermione?"

She flushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

He smiled. "I know. I was joking."

"Well, Harry, are you ready?" Tonks asked.

He nodded. She stepped across the doormat and into the Dursleys' front room. "We'll just send these along, then," she said, waving her wand at his trunk and owl cage. They vanished into thin air.

"What in tarnation was that?"

All four of them jumped.

Uncle Vernon was standing there, purple faced in his striped pajamas, with a bony Aunt Petunia cowering behind him. Tonks turned towards them. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Dursley. We were just taking your nephew…"

She gestured at Harry, who sighed. He had hoped to leave without telling the Dursleys; it would have helped to avoid a pointless confrontation. It wasn't like they'd miss him anyway.

"I'm leaving," he said shortly, "and I'm not coming back."

At that moment, Harry's massive cousin, Dudley, came waddling around the corner and stopped short at the sight of Harry's escort. He dropped the half of a donut he held in his hand and clapped his palms over his fat buttocks, backing out of the room in horror. Tonks, whose attention had been briefly diverted, turned back to Uncle Vernon. "We'll be taking care of him from now on. You'll never have to see him again."

There was a stunned silence. Then Uncle Vernon barked, "Well, be off with you, then."

Hermione turned to Harry. "We're Apparating," she told him.

"But I'm haven't passed my Apparition test," he said.

"You'll Side-Along with me," Tonks said. "Hold my arm. Got a good grip? Okay then, let's go. One…"

"Goodbye," Harry said jovially.

"Two…"

"I won't be seeing you," he told them.
"Three!"

The Dursleys' living room disappeared. Harry felt as though thick, black bands were squeezing his chest, arms, legs, and head, and he couldn't see anything, until, barely seconds later, he collapsed on the lawn in front of the Burrow, his second favorite place in the world.