Harry Potter stared down at his hands, leaning his back against the brick
wall behind him. He could hear the people around him, walking to and from
the trains comming in. He was at King's Cross Station, after all. It was a
busy place.
He didn't really care about those people. Didn't crare that he was probably cauing a problem, just sitting here in the entrance to the public rest rooms. Didn't care that two people had already complained about hiim -- a police officer had already come once, to ask him to move. He had -- he'd gotten up, walked down the hall, and come straight back as soon as the annoying man was out of sight.
He had more important things to worry about then some stupid women who had nothing else to do than cause problems for him.
There was a train, leaving London in an hour, that would take him to Rome, Italy. He'd already paid for the ticket, already packed all of his things and had them stored on the train. All that he had to do was pick himself up, and walk toward that train, get on it. Then he'd be out of here - just another nameless face on a train filled with people. People he didn't know, or who didn't know him. People who wouldn't comment on his scar, or mention how good it was that Sirius Black had finially gotten was he deserved.
Harry felt tears prick his eyes at the thought of his godfather, and how everybody out here still believed him to be a criminal. Sirius had never gotten the chance to walk outdoors in the sunlight, without being the guise of a god. He'd never gotten to take simple pleasure in going to the park, or eating out-doors in some simple little cafe. The entire world thought that he was a liar, a theif and a murderer.
Harry hated them for it. Hated people for thinking that of his godfather, for thinking that such a kind, gentle man could ever commit the atrocities that Sirius had been accused of. But most of all, he hated Peter Pettigrew. Hated the man with a fire that was a little afraid of, sometimes. He wanted to make that man hurt, like his godfather had hurt. Wanted to make Voldermort's torture games seem like child play, by the time he was finished.
Voldermort had left England. Nobody knew why -- he'd just pakced up and left, taking most of the known death eaters with him. Luscius Malfoy had been one of those death eaters. Harry knew this, because voldermort had been communicating with him, through his dreams.
He wasn't seeing Voldermort committing crimes when he slept, anymore. Every night, it was the same. Voldermort would come to him, sit with him a comfortable, airy little room, and talk to him. Talk about his plans, about what he was doing. Taunt Harry with the information. He was leaving England, Voldermort had said. But he wouldn't mention where. He'd tell Harry the names of the death eaters, new and old. He'd talk about Sirius, and how ironic it was that people believed the worst of the man. He'd even said that he was sorry, for Sirius's death. Not for Harry's sake, but for the fact that Sirius was from the kind of family that Lord Voldermort could respect.
Harry drew in a shaky breath, and glanced up just in time to see the police officer from earlier walking toward him, a determined look on his face. Drawing in another breath, Harry quickly stood, grinning as a boarding call came over the intercom for his train. Well, he had two choices. One, he could allow the police officer to catch up to him take him in, call is aunt and uncle. Two, he could board the train and get away from those people for good.
Not much of a choice, really. Harry took off like a shotgun, to the sound of the officer's shout. Well, this certaintly was an interesting way to leave London.
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well, that's it for now. make sure to review! i live on reviews :D
He didn't really care about those people. Didn't crare that he was probably cauing a problem, just sitting here in the entrance to the public rest rooms. Didn't care that two people had already complained about hiim -- a police officer had already come once, to ask him to move. He had -- he'd gotten up, walked down the hall, and come straight back as soon as the annoying man was out of sight.
He had more important things to worry about then some stupid women who had nothing else to do than cause problems for him.
There was a train, leaving London in an hour, that would take him to Rome, Italy. He'd already paid for the ticket, already packed all of his things and had them stored on the train. All that he had to do was pick himself up, and walk toward that train, get on it. Then he'd be out of here - just another nameless face on a train filled with people. People he didn't know, or who didn't know him. People who wouldn't comment on his scar, or mention how good it was that Sirius Black had finially gotten was he deserved.
Harry felt tears prick his eyes at the thought of his godfather, and how everybody out here still believed him to be a criminal. Sirius had never gotten the chance to walk outdoors in the sunlight, without being the guise of a god. He'd never gotten to take simple pleasure in going to the park, or eating out-doors in some simple little cafe. The entire world thought that he was a liar, a theif and a murderer.
Harry hated them for it. Hated people for thinking that of his godfather, for thinking that such a kind, gentle man could ever commit the atrocities that Sirius had been accused of. But most of all, he hated Peter Pettigrew. Hated the man with a fire that was a little afraid of, sometimes. He wanted to make that man hurt, like his godfather had hurt. Wanted to make Voldermort's torture games seem like child play, by the time he was finished.
Voldermort had left England. Nobody knew why -- he'd just pakced up and left, taking most of the known death eaters with him. Luscius Malfoy had been one of those death eaters. Harry knew this, because voldermort had been communicating with him, through his dreams.
He wasn't seeing Voldermort committing crimes when he slept, anymore. Every night, it was the same. Voldermort would come to him, sit with him a comfortable, airy little room, and talk to him. Talk about his plans, about what he was doing. Taunt Harry with the information. He was leaving England, Voldermort had said. But he wouldn't mention where. He'd tell Harry the names of the death eaters, new and old. He'd talk about Sirius, and how ironic it was that people believed the worst of the man. He'd even said that he was sorry, for Sirius's death. Not for Harry's sake, but for the fact that Sirius was from the kind of family that Lord Voldermort could respect.
Harry drew in a shaky breath, and glanced up just in time to see the police officer from earlier walking toward him, a determined look on his face. Drawing in another breath, Harry quickly stood, grinning as a boarding call came over the intercom for his train. Well, he had two choices. One, he could allow the police officer to catch up to him take him in, call is aunt and uncle. Two, he could board the train and get away from those people for good.
Not much of a choice, really. Harry took off like a shotgun, to the sound of the officer's shout. Well, this certaintly was an interesting way to leave London.
-------- -------- -------- -------- -------- -------- --------
well, that's it for now. make sure to review! i live on reviews :D