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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That is owned by J K Rowling I am just borrowing her characters
Chapter 2:
It has been four weeks since Harry had been back at the Dursleys' and Harry couldn't breathe. He felt like he was suffocating. Aunt Petunia finally started feeding him again, a week ago, but the week long forced fast had done its damage. He was weak and tired all the time.
Lately his nightmares had been replaced by dreams about flying. At first he was glad trying to shut his eyes whenever he could. He could practically feel the wind rushing past his hair and the smell of the grass. But then he would wake up. The walls felt closer, the room felt even smaller than the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry pressed his ears to the door, of his room, listening for the click clock of his aunt's heels hoping that she would let him out just for a few minutes. He contemplated running but discarded that idea because he was sure he would be caught. If he was caught by Vernon he knew it would be another beating and he had just barely recovered from the last. If Dumbledore caught him well along with being returned and Vernon beating him he could grantee a long lecture and many looks of disappointment not to mention that Vernon would be even angrier having freaks show up at his house. Plus Harry knew he was safer here and the thought of being captured by Voldemort frightened him. So Harry sat in his room still trying to figure out how to survive.
His aunt finally came to the door but only to shove a bottle of water and a cheese sandwich through the cat flap. "May I please use the loo Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.
"No, your uncle is not home." was her flat reply before she quickly walked back down the hall. Harry looked longingly at the sandwich; his aunt had even gone through the trouble of toasting the bread for him something he liked but Dudley didn't. He knew his cousin preferred his to be grilled in butter rather than toasted. Sometime Harry though just maybe his aunt might not hate him but she was afraid of him and would not even think about letting him out of the room when Vernon was not home.
Harry really did love toasted cheese sandwiches but he could barely stand to eat this one. The panic of being trapped in this room was unbearable and tied his stomach up in knots. So Harry just picked up the plate and bottle and went over to his desk setting the items down onto the warm wood. Harry sat down took a deep breath trying to calm his anxiety and stared out the window into the back garden. Sometime the thought he could feel someone staring back at him, but no one was ever there he was alone.
It was nighttime that much Harry knew but where he was he had no idea. The air was salty, cool, and damp. It was the sea. Harry could feel the sand beneath his feet which was odd because he never thought of the Dark Lord as the barefoot in the sand type of person. But there he was standing in all his menacing glory black robe flowing in the wind as his toes curled in the cool wet sand. It was cold so Harry knew he was no longer in Britain.
When Voldemort turned his head Harry turned with him. He was looking out of the slotted red eyes, riding around in the head, of the man who wanted to kill him. Voldemort turned quickly to his left staring out across the waves. Suddenly a man was forming out of the sea his robe materializing from the waves themselves, a dark bluish green that was formfitting and flowed out from his waist to his feet. Bare feet like the Dark Lord. And while Voldemort's skin was pale and seemed to glow in the moon light this man was dark, his skin as black as coal. There was no way that this man was human but what he was Harry didn't know.
The dark man addressed Voldemort in a language Harry had never heard and Voldemort responded in kind. When the man looked straight into Voldemort's eyes Harry felt the presence. This Harry realized was why he was here. Voldemort needed to bring down his mental shields so that this creature could read him. Then Harry felt it, the presence was no longer in Voldemort's mind but his.
"A visitor I wasn't expecting." The voice said. It was deep and raspy almost as if the man were out of breath. "What a nasty little connection you have there. You should get that taken care of." The man continued. Harry was panicking. "Worry not young one I will not tell the man about his guest. You are safe for now." The man finished telling him then the presence was gone.
Harry tried to memorize every detail he could from this encounter. Harry felt this surge of dread well up in his gut. Whether it was him feeling it or Voldemort Harry did not know but a creature that could make Voldemort feel like this terrified him.
The man had bright golden eyes and never smiled. He handed a small box made of stone to Voldemort who gladly accepted it. Harry could physically feel the Dark Lords pleasure. It seemed to be what the meeting was about because it was not long after that they both left. Harry was surprised that there were no death eaters around he had never really seen the Dark Lord without his entourage.
Harry didn't know what this meeting was about but one thing he did know whatever it was that made Voldemort this happy did not bode well for him. The last thing Harry saw before waking up was Nagini slithering down the beach to meet her master.
Something was wrong. Harry didn't know what it was just this sinking feeling down in his gut. Harry started pacing across his room from the window to the door and back again. The panic he had been feeling the past couple of days was at an all-time high. The anger, anxiety, and fear were vibrating under his skin. It was like his body and brain wanted two completely different things. His brain was telling him to stay put, Voldemort was up to something and Dumbledore was right he needed the protection that the blood wards provided. He knew the order would come and get him in a few weeks. However, it felt like every cell in his body was saying just one thing. Run!
Running made no logical sense and if he had learned anything from the ministry fiasco and Hermione's subsequent lecture it was that he needed to stop and plan, to think things through. If he had stopped and thought about things he would have remembered the mirror or thought to try to call Sirius through the floo or any number of things before rushing off with a handful of friends and nearly getting everyone killed. Sirius died because he didn't think. Harry refused to make that mistake again.
For the past week he has been making lists. He has made lists of things he needed to do and things he needed to learn. He has made lists about reasons why Dumbledore is right and reasons why he is wrong. He figured that if he tried to make a plan for running away that he would see that it was completely illogical as he had nowhere to go and there was nowhere that would be safe to hide and if he thought he was starving now imagine how it would be on the streets. So Harry made his plan, he was going to stay the course at the Dursleys and wait for Dumbledore and the Order to rescue him. Then he would be able to ask Hermione to help him study and learn what he needed to in order to survive. Surely after telling him about the prophecy Dumbledore would have a plan to train him, Harry was sure of it. But the nagging feeling remained and all his body wanted to do was run.
It had three days since Harry had made his plan to stay and he had started making lists of things he needed to study. But Harry was sick of making lists, waiting for something to happen, and trying to plan some kind of strategy. There was no rhyme or reason to what Harry did next he just did the first thing that came to his mind. He got up, ran to his wardrobe and grabbed a worn canvas book bag and threw as much of his belongings as he could in there. Having known that his school stuff was going to be locked up he didn't bother bringing it with him home and just sent it with Ron to the Burrow.
Harry tucked his wand into the right leg pocket down by his calf of the baggy cargo pants he had inherited from Dudley's old clothes. There were a few holes in them; one that looked like it was burnt by a fag. Harry had to tie them on to his emaciated frame with a piece of hemp twine that Vernon had given him. Harry placed the bag by the cat flap in the door and waited. When he heard his aunt walking down the hall he knocked loudly on the door. "Aunt Petunia, I really need to use the loo. May I please be let out?" Harry asked. Harry did not have to wait long before he heard his aunt's heels turn around and walk back to her bedroom. Less than a minute later the jingle of keys and the locks being opened one by one and Harry knew he would be home free.
The door opened slightly and his aunt backed away from the door, as if she was afraid of him, which she was. "You have five minutes." She told him in a stern voice.
"May I please bathe Aunt Petunia it's been a week." Harry tried to sound as meek as possible; it would usually get him more time or food. His aunt liked the little bit of power she got when she heard him beg. Personally Harry hated it. He wanted to yell and scream and demand. It was probably why he was so obstinate at school.
"Fine, you have ten minutes. Don't use to good towels."
"I know use the rag towels under the sink the ones for cleaning and no hot water. Thank you Aunt Petunia." Harry interrupted.
"You have ten minutes." She sneered and locked the door to his room as if locking the door would keep the magic stench out of her nice normal house. She quickly turned away to get as far from the boy as possible.
Harry walked into the bathroom and turned on the water so as to not make his aunt suspicious. He quietly walked back towards his room and knelt down by the door reaching his hand through the cat flap and grabbing the pack he had packed. It was a hard fit through the small hole and he had to do a bit of wiggling to get the sack through but it eventually came out. Harry than tiptoed over to Dudley's bedroom knowing that Dudley had already left about an hour ago to play video games at Piers' house, and stepped over the mess all over Dudley's floor and walked over to the window on the other side of the room. Before he left Harry grabbed the tin can that he knew Dudley used to hide all his money. Harry could hear Dudley through the walls when he was telling Piers about the money he had saved and how he had a fake ID to get alcohol and fags at the off-license. Harry knew he needed a little over £10 to take the train from Guildford Surrey to Charring Cross. He wasn't about to risk taking the Knightbus. Harry also grabbed Dudley's bus pass so he could get to the station. It was about 7 kilometers from Privet drive to Guildford and Harry didn't want to walk if he could help it.
Harry jumped out the window into the tree and climbed down. When he got to the ground he started running. He wanted to put as much distance as he could between him and the Dursley's before his aunt found out he left. She was sure to tell Vernon and he would be pissed he would miss the end of the game to search for the little urchin.
AN: Okay here is the next chapter sorry for the delay. I have also updated my crossover fic Death's Master and the Walking Dead so check that out.
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