Word Count: 313
For the 4th of July Event at The Golden Snitch. For Vladimiranova, Koldovstoretz
Prompt: (song) 'Firework' – Katy Perry
Quite frankly, Harry was sick of it all.
Sick of the hunger and the pain.
Sick of the oversized clothes and lack of space and sun his cupboard offered.
Sick of being pushed around and being forced to work like a slave for the Dursleys.
Sick of being pressured into performing worse in school than he actually was.
Sick of having no friends, as all fellow students at his school fell for the ruse the Dursleys had set up just as the teachers and neighbours did.
Sick of having no choices, no control whatsoever over his own life.
Granted, he was only seven years old and at that age there wasn't all that much he could have control over, but even those minuscule amounts were taken from him.
And so, Harry made the decision to run away.
It wasn't even a hard decision. This house had never been his home and the people inside it might have been related, but they weren't family.
Every single thing he owned fit in his backpack for school.
What reason could he have to stay?
So he ran.
He ran and he ran and he ran.
He ran, without knowing where he was going.
He ran faster than it should be possible.
He ran until he was so tired that he collapsed.
And then he fell asleep right there and then.
When he woke up again, he was in a small cottage and a man that felt vaguely familiar for some reason was leaning over him.
"Hello Harry. I see you are awake now. Maybe you can explain why I found you passed out in my garden this morning. Shouldn't you be with your relatives?"
"I ran away," Harry explained. "And also, sorry, but who are you?"
"My name is Remus Lupin. I suppose I can't expect you to remember me. You were quite small after all."