Title: Anonymity Disclaimer: yeah...yeah...I'll give them back when I'm done with them... (Sadly puts away the chains)
Summary: Harry needs some control, so Harry's leaving to find it.
Archive: Just ask me first
Rating: PG-13 (Harry likes to swear)
It was a normal sunny day on Privet Drive, Surrey, its endless rows of the upper middle class houses stacked next to each other with a respectable distance between buildings for gardening purposes. One house in particular had a very distinguished garden, probably due to the muddy figure crawling between a rose bush and some colorful gardenias.
"Bloody, stupid...really stupid, Bloody God damn thorns" Cursed a young man with tousled black hair in need of a trimming. Harry Potter managed to squirm his way to the edge of the flowerbed and collapse onto his backside. 'This is quite ridiculous' He thought as he pulled several thorns out of a somewhat bloodied hand.
Harry had been "mucking around" in his Aunt's Garden since he had left his school, Hogwarts. He didn't much enjoy gardening, but it kept him out of the house and preoccupied. He would almost call it pleasant, except that such things as thorns and stinging nettles kept him in a constant state of cursing. Another downside was that his Uncle Vernon assumed that his new found interest in flowers and made it justifiable to use words such as "pansy" and other irritating niceties.
Harry found his Uncle's insults boring and old. After the last year of school, he noticed his patience had disappeared along with his willingness to defend himself, so he just ignored his relative's remarks and arranged the baby's breath properly next to the real pansies. Harry laid back on the cool grass and sucked on one of his abused fingers, the Dursley's weren't due back until tomorrow morning, they were staying at some golf resort so Vernon could suck up to one of his prospected clients. This meant of course that Harry was supposed to be locked in his bedroom for the next day; Harry smirked as the conversation of the previous day came back to him.
"BOY!" Shrieked Aunt Petunia storming across the lawn with Uncle Vernon in tow. "Yes?" Harry asked mildly from his kneeling position in front of some bright red tulips. "We are going to a resort today, we won't back until Sunday morning, go to your room so we can lock you in." She said, looking at a space above his head. Harry looked at her for a moment before he laughed.
"What makes you think you can make me?" He asked in a conversational tone.
Uncle Vernon growled, "You will do as we say while you are under this roof, boy."
Harry's amused look died quickly on his face as he watched his uncle. "You would do well to remember, Uncle, that with only one letter to my freak friends I can have every Wizard here from Bristol knocking on your door." Vernon went puce. "Well Petunia, what do you want to do now? We can't have the freak wandering around the loose, there's no telling what he'll destroy." He sent a glare in Harry's direction for effect.
"I'll stay in the shed."
"What?" Petunia squeaked.
"I said, I. Will. Stay. In. The. Shed." Harry found he was having a difficult time not cursing. "Let me get some things from my room and I'll stay in the shed until you come back, or for the rest of the summer for that matter." Vernon looked thoughtful; Harry decided that if the wind changed his face might stay that way. "Very well." You may get your belongings and reside in the shed; there will be no attempts to burgle my house while we are gone. Understood?" Harry smiled at him and turned back to his tulips, "Perfectly."
So, Harry left Dudley's second bedroom and moved into the shed.
He wasn't at all sorry to leave, in fact secretly he was overjoyed. Harry decided that at one point the shed behind the Dursley's house was once used as a sort of office, or spare room, There was a small bathroom in the back, boarded up to look like part of the wall. Harry had found it when he was twelve while looking for the gas canister for the lawn mower. Luckily for him it had a shower and the plumbing, though a little rusted, still worked. Harry put together an old bed of Dudley's that Vernon had him put out there years ago (Dudley was much to fat for it). Harry found for some reason that he much preferred the shed to Dudley's bedroom, it reminded him of his old cupboard, even with the spiders and dust, it was still his.
'Maybe that's what I need." Harry thought as he made his way to the shed, plucking a few carrots and tomatoes on the way. Aunt Petunia would not be pleased with the missing vegetation, but he figured she could live with the loss. 'Maybe I need something of my own, something I can call mine...' Harry of course has belongings, ranging from a top of the line broomstick to several schoolbooks.
'Of course I would need to be certain I'd live long enough to enjoy it.' He scowled as he walked into the dusty room, wiping a carrot on his shirt in an attempt to clean it. The vegetable thus became dirtier. Harry dumped his supper into the tiny sink and moved to the cluttered work table. Looking down at a piece of parchment he picked up his quill and sighed, He had been out of school for a month and three days according to the calendar he taped to the to ceiling out of boredom. According to the current members of the order of the Phoenix he was required to write every three days to assure them that his relatives were behaving, and (in Harry's opinion) to let them know that he was still alive.
Still here, Dursley's went to a resort for the week, am staying in the shed, I haven't died yet. Harry
It really took to much effort to try and elaborate. He knew as long as he sent some form of letter the order would be happy, Harry wouldn't have bothered otherwise. There was another matter of his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, they wrote to him everyday, asking about how he was feeling and telling him that they haven't heard anything about Voldemort.
Harry hadn't written to them all summer.
He whistled too a large snowy owl that was perched on the small window sill, Hedwig hooted and flew over to sit on Harry's arm. "You know the address Hedwig" he told the owl while affectionately petting her feathers. "Make sure they get their notice." Hedwig hooted and flew out the window; Harry stood there and watched her go. Moving to his bed he resisted the urge call his owl back, things were a lot less lonely with her around, and she didn't look at him like a slug, not that he cared what the Dursley's thought anyway.
He yawned and sat down, blinking as a dark shape moved before his tired eyes, he plucked off the round glasses from his head and rubbed his eyes fiercely, but the dark shaped remained. Then it hooted. A medium sized brown owl perched on a low hanging rafter was watching him with what looked like amused yellow eyes. "Hello to you too, bloody owl" he muttered as he rose and untied the envelope from the bird's leg. The owl hooted and flew out the open window, into the darkening evening sky. Harry lay down on his bed and studied the envelope in his hands, the letters written in a curving flourish that was addressed to him. He tore out the parchment and read almost eagerly.
Dear Harry,
Due to some recent activity by some of Voldemort I have no choice but to relocate you to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer. Remus Lupin and the Weasley family will be there to keep you company. I will get in touch with you there when I can. Yours truly, A. Dumbledore
P.s. Remus will come pick you up. Harry stared at the parchment blankly before growling to himself, "Son of a bitch. I'm not going back there!"
The idea of going back to Grimmauld place made him sick, he didn't want to be anywhere that reminded him so terribly of Sirius. An attack by Voldemort at the Ministry of magic, and Harry's own stupidity cost Sirius his life. He was killed by one of Voldemort's underlings Bellatrix. Harry threw the letter across the room and retrieving a small hair clip for his pocket left his shed and stormed angrily to the Dursley's back door.
Shoving the clip into the door's lock (Harry had been picking this lock as far back as he could remember, since Petunia found it necessary to lock Harry out of the house every alternate Sunday) he twisted it slightly to the left and with a forceful turn to the right the door swung open. Harry bolted up the stairs to his bedroom and quickly started shoving everything he owned into his trunk. Grabbing a cloak from a pile of laundry he fastened it under his chin. Picking up his trunk he went back down stairs. Pausing on his way to the door he dropped his load and kicked it fiercely to open his already abused luggage. Pulling out a piece of parchment and grabbing a pen from beside the telephone (Petunia always kept one out) he scribbled quickly;
Lupin
Am going away for a while, tell Dumbledore to bugger off. Don't try to locate me, you won't.
Sorry,
Harry
He slammed the parchment onto the dining room table and left the house.
Harry tightened his cloak around his shoulders and looked cautiously around Privet drive. Confident that no one was snooping through their curtains he raised his arm, holding what looked like a long thin stick. He quickly pulled the wand down and waited for a moment. A large Purple bus appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Harry, who was watching it roll to a stop almost suspiciously, grinned in spite of himself. A reckless feeling came over him, almost terrifying, he felt... free. It shook him so much that he barely noticed Stan take his bags along with comments like "Didn't think you were nutters eh Harry?" Harry nodded to him and handed over some money.
"Diagon Alley Stan." He muttered before sitting down on a chair. Ernie the bus driver looked at Harry in his review mirror and winked, like he knew what Harry was thinking, when Harry didn't know himself.
Ok! First chappie done! R&R pwease? Pwetty pwease? I wuv you forwever... (Grins) Just be nice, this is my first Fic.