Harry Potter: A Short Story
Disclaimer: No Dumbledore bashing, but I'll let you come to your own conclusion. Let me know how OOC Harry seems to be. Finally, I think it goes without saying that I am not JK Rowling; now on with it!
He could see the sunset from number four Private Drive; he could see the sun set and it was one of the most beautiful sites he had witnessed since he had left Hogwarts. It had been a spontaneous decision. He just couldn't take it anymore; everyone was counting on him: not just his friends but the whole wizarding world. It was a lot, too much for him to handle, so he had decided he wasn't going back for the next year. Nobody else was going to die for him. He knew all his friends and the people in the order were all very capable witches and wizards, and he didn't understand what made him so special. What made him so special anyways?
Sometime during his contemplation, Harry realized the sun had come and gone and the moon and stars had taken its place. What made him so special indeed. Was it his hands? He raised them level to his glasses and stared hard. Perhaps it was his striking green eyes; taking off his glasses he rubbed the inner corners of his eyes with one hand and sighed. He looked toward Hedwig who was staring at him silently, with confusion in her eyes, as if she was looking straight through him. He stared at her hard, hoping all the answers to any and every question he ever knew to ask were somewhere in her eyes. Animals and children were supposed to be smart. At least that's what Hermione had said to him once. He'd read it somewhere too, but he had kept the small fact about his love of knowledge to himself. As much as they all hated to admit it, everyone knew that Hermione was treated differently because of her love of knowledge, and he didn't want to be like her. He couldn't be like her. That was who he had been in his old life, and he promised himself that in this new life, he would be different in every sense of the world. He would be braver; more popular; liked and maybe even, dare he believe, loved.
None of that mattered now. He was leaving Hogwarts for good, and that would be the end of it. He would miss them all dearly, but he knew he was doing what was best for him. He was realizing that no one would ever truly right by him but himself, Harry. Getting back to his daring escape from school, Private Drive was not a good alternative. Making a split-second decision, Harry decided he would go to Gringotts and get enough money to buy a small house and get settled down far away. He would continue his muggle education and maybe get a magical tutor. However, he quickly got rid of that idea. He was underage and Dumbledore was still his magical guardian; he was not going to get away with that idea, not a chance in hell. Besides, Dumbledore loved him, and he was a great man. Why did he ever want to leave in the first place when people like his headmaster existed? He must have been going crazy, he shook his head.
"Maybe this is just a phase," he thought. "Maybe I'll feel better in the morning."
Falling back against his lumpy, old pillow in Dudley's second bedroom he made himself comfortable, bed squeaking with every move. "Maybe it's just a phase" was his last thought as he drifted to the realms of sleep. He didn't see a familiar old wizard standing in the corner of the room, right behind where he was standing moments before. An old wizard who came to make sure a phase was all Harry's wandering thoughts turned out to be. He also didn't see Hedwig in the other corner, still looking quizzical, but with more suspicion, in the corner as if she could sense something was there that ought not to be. All seemed well on Private Dive.
