Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

Harry Potter looked out the window, and sighed. It was raining. Again. He had been at the Dursleys for three long days, and he sincerely wished that Mad-Eye Moody had not had a talk with Uncle Vernon. Instead of cowing the Dursleys, it had only infuriated them even more, especially his uncle. Vernon had not hit him yet, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time until he did. He just hoped the Order let him leave before that moment arrived.

He glanced at the clock; it read 6:30 AM. Uncle Vernon would be getting up soon. This meant that he would be given yet another insanely long list of chores to complete. He had managed to do everything the Dursleys told him to so far, but he knew that eventually they would give him too much. He had a sinking feeling that when that happened, Vernon would lose what little control he had left.

"When that happens, I'm leaving," Harry muttered. "I don't care what Dumbledore says, I refuse to put up with that anymore. The only problem is that I have nowhere to go. I can't go to the Burrow; that will just endanger the Weasleys. Hogwarts is out. Lupin's a possibility, though he might go to Dumbledore." He sighed. "Sirius would've helped." And it's my fault that he can't, he silently added.

A tapping on his window interrupted his musings. Harry looked up, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that the owl was not Hedwig. The bird glared at him through the window as if to say, "Open the window already, it's raining out here!" Harry quickly reached over and pushed open the window. The bird hopped in, and stuck out its leg impatiently. He untied the letter. The bird ruffled its wet feathers and flew back out the window.

Harry turned over the letter and gave a strangled yelp when he saw the handwriting. "Sirius," he breathed. His hands trembled as he broke the seal and opened the letter. Inside was a sheet of parchment, a golden key, and a wad of muggle cash. Setting the last two items aside, he unfolded the parchment and began to read.

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this, then I have kicked the bucket, hopefully doing something heroically stupid. (I'd hate to have died by choking on a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, for instance.) However it happened, don't blame yourself, especially if I was protecting you. I was your godfather; it was my job. But more importantly, if I had to die, that's the way I want to go. That, and James would have come back and killed me if I didn't protect you. I don't even want to think about what Lily would do.

Now that that is out of the way, I want to give you some advice; don't let anyone, and I mean ANYONE, keep you from being happy. (This includes Tom, Dumbledore, the Dursleys, and especially that git Snivellus.) I know what the Dursleys are like, and I don't care WHAT Dumbledore says, you do NOT have to stay there. And before you say anything about wards and blood protection, there are other places just as safe where there aren't any Dursleys.

I know you have no idea what I'm talking about, and for that, you can blame Dumbledore. He didn't want me to tell you, but I will anyway. Don't get me wrong, Dumbledore's a great man, but sometimes he only sees the forest, not the trees, if you'll excuse the cliché. I know you're getting impatient, so I'll get on with it. You don't have just the one vault at Gringotts, Harry. The key to the second one is in the envelope. Technically, you're not supposed to be able to get in it before you're 17, but if you have permission (and you do) from your guardian (that's me) you can access it earlier (like now). Just show the goblins this letter and they should let you in. I've added a few things to the vault, so don't be surprised if you find some stuff with the Black Family crest. Most of it is stuff I wanted you to have, and since I'm still on the run, I couldn't give it to you in a will. (I left this with Moony, just in case). Just promise me that you won't open the black chest with the silver trim. There's some nasty stuff in there that I didn't want Bella or Narcissa to get their slimy hands on. When you have a chance, give it to Snivellus; much as I dislike the greasy git, he's the only one in the you-know-what (not to be confused with Snakeface's troupe) that knows how to dispose of certain items in the chest.

Among the things I left for you, you'll find two copies of The Complete Collection of Marauder Pranks. Give Gred and Forge the newer copy, and tell them to go to Moony if they have any questions. I wanted you to have the original. It was written by Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs (we excluded that traitorous little shit Wormtail; he couldn't write worth a damn).

Oh, and one more thing. No more brooding; if I know you (and I do), you've done enough of that already. I told Moony to wait a week or two before sending this, so I know you've had time to brood about my death. Be happy for once, play a few pranks in my honor. (If you need a fellow mischief-maker, might I suggest a certain redhead's sister?)

Love,

Padfoot

P.S. The cash is for emergencies; use it if you get stuck in the muggle world.

PPS. Give Moldiewarts hell for me!

Harry stared at the letter for what seemed like a long time, thinking about what

Sirius had said. He was startled when someone banged on his door.

"BOY," his uncle shouted, "IF YOU DON'T GET UP THIS INSTANT YOU'LL WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN." Harry could hear his uncle stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen. He quickly stuffed everything back into the envelope and shoved it under his mattress. He then followed his uncle down the stairs.

Vernon was waiting for him when he reached the kitchen. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO HAVE BREAKFAST READY WHEN I GET UP?!" Harry cringed; he had a bad feeling that his uncle had finally lost it. "YOU'RE GONNA PAY THIS TIME, BOY!" Harry only had time to think, oh shit, before Vernon grabbed his arm and viciously twisted it. He heard a sickening crack, and fire shot up his arm. Vernon let go and, as if nothing had happened, said, "There's a list of chores for you on the refrigerator. Petunia and Dudley left last night for Marge's and won't be back 'til next week. You better have finished those chores by the time I get back."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, through clenched teeth. Yeah right, he thought. I'm leaving first chance I get. Vernon shoved Harry aside, and left the house for work. Harry listened tensely until he could no longer hear Vernon's car.

The first thing he did was wrap a makeshift split around his arm. Then, ignoring the pain in his arm, he opened the phonebook and looked up the number for a taxi service. He dialed the number and told them his address. "Good thing Sirius gave me that money," he muttered as he went up the stairs.

When he got to his room, he was glad to see that Hedwig had returned. He went over to her and said, "Hedwig, could you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron?" She hooted in response, and flew out the window. He then dragged his trunk out of the closet, wincing when it jarred his arm. Good thing I never really unpacked, he thought. He opened the trunk, and threw in the few things he had unpacked. He reached under the mattress, grabbed the letter from Sirius, and stuffed it in his pocket.

He took one last look around the room, his eyes lingering regretfully on Hedwig's cage. I wish I could take it with me, he thought. But I can't carry it and the trunk with only one arm. Oh well. I can always get another one.

The honking of a horn jerked him out of his reverie. The taxi! He grabbed hold of the trunk and hurried down the stairs, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, amazed that he was finally leaving this place for good. The pain in his arm reminded him why he had called the taxi in the first place. He shook his head to clear it, and left the house.

Harry handed the driver his trunk, ignoring the odd look his arm got. "Where to?" the driver asked.

"The nearest hospital," Harry replied. I wish I could go to St. Mungo's, Harry thought. If I do they'll recognize me, and tip off Dumbledore. Harry stared out the window, still ignoring the curious looks the driver was giving him.

"Here we are," said the driver. "You, want me to wait for you?" Harry shook his head, and paid the fee. I feel kind of silly dragging a trunk through a hospital, he thought as he walked up to the receptionist's desk. Although, I'd feel even sillier if I had Hedwig with me.

"How can I help you?" she asked, without looking up from her magazine.

"Broke my arm," he said curtly.

"Sit down over there and we'll get to you shortly," she said, pointing to a row of seats. Harry sat down in the hard plastic seat and set his trunk on end it front of him so it would out of the way as much as possible. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to doze off, he heard his name being called. He opened his eyes, and sat up to see an orderly with a clip board standing in front of him.

"Follow me please," the orderly said, leading him to an exam room. While waiting for the doctor to arrive, the orderly began to fill out his chart. When asked for his name and age, Harry lied, and said, "My name's Thomas Neville, and I'm seventeen." The orderly raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, the doctor arrived.

"What have we got, Bill?" he asked.

"Kid with a broken arm," Bill answered, then leaned over to the doctor and whispered something in his ear. The doctor nodded, and then walked over to Harry. As his arm was being set, Harry studied the doctor. He was an older man, with graying hair and light blue eyes set behind a pair of gold wire-framed glasses. He was very short, only about 5'3", and slightly pudgy. Harry got the impression that he was a cheerful man.

His examination of the doctor was interrupted when the doctor said, "So kid, what's your real name and age, and how'd you break your arm?" Harry gaped at him in shock. How had he figured it out? Harry thought frantically.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered. The doctor just looked at him, an amused expression on is face.

"My guess is, you're about fourteen or fifteen, and you don't want to be recognized because either the people you're staying with somehow or another broke your arm, or you broke it doing something you shouldn't've been doing. Which is it?" Harry stared at him in shock.

"The first," he mumbled. "How—" he started, and then broke off, unable to say anything further.

"How'd I know?" Harry nodded. "Kid, I've worked in this ER for almost twenty years; I've seen a lot of kids like you. On the run," he replied, glancing towards Harry's trunk. "Hold on, I'm gonna set your arm," he warned. Pain shot up his arm as the bones were moved back in place.

"Ow," Harry muttered, when it subsided to a dull throbbing. The doctor raised his eyebrows at Harry's mild reaction.

"Your lack of reaction seems to indicate that this has happened before," the doctor said meaningfully. Harry looked up in confusion.

"What? Oh, you mean—. No, I play sports at my school." The doctor looked at him skeptically. "This was the first time he's done anything this extreme," Harry said softly, in answer to the doctor's unspoken question. He was given a doubtful look in return. The doctor shook his head, and turned his attention back to Harry's arm.

"Kid," said the doctor, "are you just running blindly away, or have you got a destination in mind?"

"I-I'm not sure. I was just going to go empty my bank account and then stay in a hotel somewhere out of the way until school starts, but now I'm not so sure." Harry stared at the cast that was slowly taking shape on his arm.

"Can I make a suggestion?" asked the doctor. Harry nodded cautiously. "While your plan would work, what about next summer, and the one after that? If you use up all your money this summer, you won't be able to escape again in the future." Harry's eyes widened; he hadn't thought of that. There is no way in hell that I am ever going back to the Dursley's, he thought. "If there is anyone at all that you think you can trust, I would suggest that you go to them; you might be pleasantly surprised with the results. Besides, it would get awfully lonely staying in that hotel by yourself for the rest of the summer."

Harry watched as the doctor put the finishing touches on the cast. Is there anyone I can go to? If only Sirius were still alive, he thought wistfully. He would help me, although I don't know how long the Dursleys would survive once he found out what happened. He would probably get Remus and— Harry's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Remus. I can go to Remus!

"There might be someone I can go to," Harry said in a soft voice. "My parents trusted him, before they died. And my godfather S-Sirius did to." The doctor nodded.

"Do you have a way to get in touch with him?" he asked.

"I can take the Underground to his house," Harry replied.

"Good. Well, I think you're all set to go. The cast should be able to come off in six weeks, and just remember not to do anything too strenuous with that arm in the meantime."

"Thank you for your help," Harry said, grabbing hold of his trunk. The doctor watched as the young man left the room, pulling his trunk behind him. Shaking his head, the doctor cleaned up the room, picked up his chart, and made his way to the staffroom.

"You were right Bill," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "The kid was a run away. I'm pretty sure whoever he was with was abusing him. At least he's not running blind now. I managed to convince him to go to someone that he trusts." The doctor took a sip of his coffee.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Bill asked.

"I think he will be Bill. I think he will."