Harry lay in the backyard with Bolt by his side, staring up at the dark grey clouds which blanketed the sky with its comforting bleakness. The problem, he felt, was that neither choice was completely good or completely bad.

Staying here, for instance, left him forced to continue to contend with the Dursleys and school and a lack of a currently foreseeable future.

However, it also left him with remarkably more kind neighbors than the year prior and the recent addition of a possibility of a future if he kept on showing he was worth it.

On the other hand, Okoku offered him a much better theoretical future, safety from the Dursleys, and quite possibly friends or at least adults who saw him as something other than a freak or great nearly free labor.

But Okoku was riddled with issues too—how to escape, how to ensure he wasn't sent back, and how to support both himself and Bolt were all arguing hotly against leaving the known danger for the unknown perils of a life outside the straight roads and white picket fences which marked Little Whinging as his home.

In the end, as he stared at the coming storm while Bolt, worn out from their earlier play, panted beside him, he knew what it came down to. It wasn't curiosity, or his own future, or the end of years of abuse that cinched it. His choice to leave all came down to just one thing: Bolt's safety.

Now all he had to do was figure out how.