Goodbyes

Harry Potter stared out at the lazy fog that drifted over the crumbling sidewalks of Pivet Drive. The strange weather had worsened over the course of the previous few weeks and the usually scorching temperatures had dropped to a measly forty degrees Fahrenheit in the sun – when there was any. The neighborhood's quiet inhabitants had shut their doors to the biting wind and retreated inside their warm homes to the comforts of crackling fireplaces and flickering televisions.

Harry, however, had no such luck escaping from the drenching wet cold. The Dursleys had yet to replace their destroyed electric fireplace, but the stone chasm behind the rubble was still unused and the only firewood was the remnants of the last time someone had visited via the floo network. That had been long ago, years by Harry's memory. Consequently, the house was chilly.

His room itself was, in fact, the coldest in the house. The Dursleys had purposely disconnected any heating directed through his end of the house, as if to remind him that he was quite unwanted in their home. Harry had hoped that Dumbledore's last visit and the clear cut fact that it would be Harry's last summer at the Dursleys would encourage some kind of respect towards him for just a few weeks. It seemed, however, that even the thought of being rid of Harry was not enough for the Dursleys to treat him as anything other than a mosquito on all of their necks.

On this particular day, Harry huddled in the corner of his room closest to the hallway, his untidy black hair tossed across his face to hide the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Petunia had refused to take Harry to get his hair cut since he had returned from school, but Harry had recently decided that he liked the length. It kept him from being recognized too often on the streets – he was no longer gawked at by members of the wizarding world when Aunt Petunia dragged him out to help with the grocery shopping.

On his eleventh birthday, Harry had discovered that he was, in fact, a wizard. It was a strange birthday gift but one that Harry had accepted with excitement, as he would be leaving his aunt and uncle's house and enrolling in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His past six years at the school had been a strange mix of magical education and an attempt to defeat the most evil dark wizard of all time.

Despite his magical proficiency and courage, Harry still found himself stuck at the Dursleys every summer in order to secure his protection from Lord Voldemort. This year, the summer before his seventeenth birthday and coming of age, would be Harry's last time spent with his aunt and uncle.

He was excited.

Harry sat, trembling in his corner, planning for his next summer without the Dursleys. Where would he live, what would he do? Upon meeting his godfather, Sirius, four years prior, Harry would have given anything to stay with his newfound family. But now Sirius was dead, his old house nothing but an aching wound in Harry's possession. The young wizard was thrilled that the Order had stayed on at 12 Grimmauld Place – Harry would never be able to live their without thinking of Sirius.

For the time being, however, Harry was simply waiting for the day when Dumbledore would show up and whisk him away. That day had not arrived, though, and after three weeks of torment from his aunt, uncle, and Dudley, Harry was ready to leave.

The stay had been made even worse by Dudley's new regime of having his gang friends over for dinner. The summer before, they had switched off having "tea" at each other's houses, but this year Dudley found it necessary to entertain them every night of the week. They had moved on from beating up scrawny boys at their school to hitting on the catholic school girls from across the road – Harry found it both sickening and hilarious that Dudley's gang even hoped to speak to one of the pretty ladies.

As Harry sat, lost in thought, there came a loud thump at his window. He jumped, his glasses falling askew as Hedwig flapped her wings and gawked noisily at the disturbance.

"What the bloody hell..." Harry mumbled as he straightened his glasses and walked over to the window. He opened it and none other than Pig tumbled into his room, bringing with him the frosty night air. Harry slammed the window shut quickly and scooped up the mangled ball that spasmed on his floor.

After receiving numerous scratches and claw marks over his arms, Harry finally managed to untie a letter from Pig's leg and unroll the parchment. Pig hooted thankfully and hopped over to Hedwig's cage to find the water. Harry nodded his head and bent down to read his letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry that Ron and I couldn't write sooner, we've been so busy helping with all kinds of things for the Order! Please don't worry, it hasn't been anything interesting. Mostly a continuation of cleaning up the house and such.

We wanted to know what to do with all of Sirius's things. Do you want them packed up or would you rather his room was left as it was? I'm sorry that we have to ask, only it is all yours and we wouldn't want you to be upset.

You can let us know when you get here – someone from the Order will come to pick you up sometime this week. I don't know when, it's been really hectic and we've only just found time to let you know.

We'll see you soon!

Hermione

Harry looked up from his letter, relieved that he wouldn't have to put up with the Dursleys for much longer. Just as he took a breath of relief, there came a loud knocking on the door.

"I know you're in there with your ruddy owls, the whole lot hooting away in the night!" Vernon shouted gruffly. "If you want the diseased things in your room, fine, but I will NOT have them pecking away at the front door!"

Harry quickly opened the door to find his uncle standing in the doorway, his face beet red and his ears fuming.

"Go on then, shoo it off!" he barked and retreated down the stairs. Harry begrudgingly followed, wondering why any owl would not have come straight to his window. As he opened the door, a charcoal black owl fluttered into his hand and hooted angrily. It seemed in a hurry to be off somewhere, so Harry quickly untied the parchment from its foot.

If you have received this letter, find Kreacher. He is hiding it from prying eyes.

Harry checked the owl's leg for any other scrolls of parchment, but there was nothing but the cryptic message. The owl flapped its wings, trying to escape Harry's hold.

"Oy, hang on a minute, I want to send a return letter," he said, slightly annoyed.

But the owl angrily bit down on his hand, causing him to let go. It flew off into the night.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked himself as he returned to the house and shut the door behind him. He didn't have long to ponder the strange occurrence, however, before Aunt Petunia came shuffling down the hallway.

"You – come and help set the table," she barked. "We're having the Polkesses over for dinner and I expect them to feel at home."

Harry grumbled but walked over to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer. He carefully picked out the nicest set and began to place them on the table.

"Not there you stupid boy, Margaret is left handed!" Petunia spat, fussing about Harry and removing the cutlery from his possession. She began to lay the table herself, muttering under her breath about useless nephews being left on her doorstep. Harry turned away too early to notice Petunia glance at him with a strange mix of pity and annoyance in her eyes.

Relieved of his table-setting duties, Harry wandered over to the family room and attempting to watch the news over his cousin Dudley's shoulders.

"Oy, watch it! Mum didn't say you could be down here. Now go away, I'm watching the tele."

"Oh yeah? Well now I'm watching as well. Free country, isn't it?" Harry retorted.

"Muuuuum," Dudley whined, "Harry won't leave me alone. Tell him to go upstairs, pleeeeease?"

"Harry, upstairs. Now." Petunia ordered from the kitchen. Harry glared at Dudley and spun on the balls of his feet to go back upstairs. It was then that he overheard the reporter's next story.

...and in other news, government officials yesterday received word that Sirius Black, escaped convict and murderer of thirteen, has been spotted in London this past weekend...

Harry wasn't the only one to stare at the television in surprise. Dudley jumped in his seat upon hearing the name of Harry's godfather, and Harry distinctly heard dishes shatter in the kitchen. Petunia tried her best to cover up the surprise by screaming at Harry for leaving the trash can in her way, but she hurried out to the family room all the same. The only member of the family not present through the newscast was Uncle Vernon who was busy taking a shower.

...the public is warned that Black is armed and dangerous. He is suspected to be in league with at least four escaped criminals, all sightings should be reported to a special hotline...

Harry started at the television as the reporter continued to list Black's latest whereabouts and his photo was flashed onscreen. He's dead and they still insult his memory, Harry thought to himself bitterly. His godfather deserved better than this desecration.

"Dudley, turn that wretched thing off," Petunia spat, turning back to clear up the dishes in the kitchen. Harry had never seen her so...upset. Petunia never ordered Dudley to do anything, especially related to the television. Not only that, she was clearing up her own mess. It bothered Harry to the point of questioning.

"Aunt Petunia, why—"

Harry was cut off by the sharp ring of the doorbell. He heard Uncle Vernon come storming down the hall, bickering with himself.

"..having the cheek to show up early, I don't give a damn if they're related to Dudley's friend..."

Harry opened his mouth to ask if he should leave, but Vernon had already shoved past him in order to open the door. Harry's uncle straightened his shirt proudly as he grinned at the visitor, but his amusement quickly vanished when he realized that the stranger on the doorstep was not, in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Polkess.

The man on the doorstep was dark haired and clad in jet black robes. He did not look like he was enjoying the chilly weather, neither was he thrilled to see Vernon's plump face staring back at him. His gaze pierced every layer of Vernon's chubby stature to where Harry stood.

"I am Professor Snape," he said, his lip curling. "I am here to collect Harry from your care."

Harry gulped back his surprise as Snape welcomed himself inside the house. Unlike Dumbledore when he visited the Dursley household, Snape was content to stand in the hallway as Uncle Vernon gawked at his sinister appearance.

"You can't just barge in here!" Vernon growled as he gained his courage back. "And why didn't we know about you coming here, eh? By the look on his face, the boy didn't even know!"

"That is correct," Snape smirked. "Mr.Potter did not, in fact, know that I was coming. Be that as it may, I expect him to be packed and ready to leave in ten minutes, or I shall leave him here for the summer."

Harry made direct eye contact with Snape before hurrying upstairs to gather his things. He didn't want to be left behind so he quickly threw everything in his trunk, gathered Hedwig's cage under one arm, and went to move everything. Before leaving, however, Harry took one last look around his room. He could still see the splintered wood where the Weasley's Ford Anglia had ripped out the bars that crossed his windows, or the tiny food flap that Vernon had installed in his door one year past. He couldn't believe that it would be the last time he saw the place.

On his way to meet Snape in the hallway, Harry said a silent goodbye to his cupboard under the stairs. The place held so many memories for him – terrible memories, but it had still been a safe haven for him through so many hungry nights.

"Potter, if you don't get down here in the next-"

"I'm here. Sir." Harry said forcefully as he dragged his trunk to the front of the house. Vernon looked down on him with his usual grumpy demeanor but Petunia stood watching Harry as if deep in thought.

"Um, well...thanks," Harry said awkwardly as Snape lead him out of the house. Vernon grunted slightly and Dudley yelled a "so long, sucker!" from the living room. Petunia, however, stepped forward and took Harry's hand.

"I'm sorry," she said solemnly before following Vernon into the house and shutting the door carefully behind her.