Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

Chapter Six: September

1st of September. Harry flipped over a page of his quidditch calendar (each month featuring different famous players), and smiled when he saw it was Viktor Krum, his dark brooding eyes staring back at him. He thought back to last year, when Ron had gotten so jealous of him going to the Yule Ball with Hermione. The familiar pang of guilt and sadness stabbed his senses, reminding him that he hadn't seen either of them for two months. But each time he felt those emotions after thinking about the people he had left behind, they got a little milder. It was a scary thought – thinking of his best friends and not missing them.

For almost a month, Harry had been posing as Brandie Mundell, a harmless local who was staying at Arti's Crescent, the nearby Bed-and-Breakfast. Every night he would disappear into the hotel toilets, duck under his invisibility cloak and sneak back to his home. Harry hadn't yet mastered the ability of apparating, but was damn good at transfiguration. He had never been awful in McGonagall's class, but had never been a model student either. However, left to his books and his devices, he had become quite talented at crafting a disguise. Brandie Mundell had a thick blonde beard, a crop of sun-yellow hair and blue eyes. He was also a man averaging between the ages of 30-40. All of these complicated pieces of magic usually took him a good half an hour to replicate, but it was worth it not to get recognised. Though he did not need Dobby as much as he previously thought, he enjoyed the company. Harry was delighted to hear about the time Draco Malfoy banished all of his parents' hair by accident. It had taken a few weeks to regrow all of it, and apparently 3 staff members were dismissed because they couldn't stop laughing.

Life was good at the Shrieking Shack, as Harry often reminded himself. Much better than living with his horrible relatives. One thing that was giving him trouble still was potions; Harry was just not good at following instructions. Memorising the recipe didn't seem to help either. He just got bored of counting how many counter-clockwise stirs he needed to do before adding 1/8 of a porcupine quill and repeating the process. It was tedious work, and progress was slow and painful.

Where Harry really felt like home was duelling. The inspiration that came to natural brewers had instead come to his aid through being able to come up with a thousand spells just off the top of his head. Harry's talent was keeping a cool head in high-pressure situations, which he was grateful for. He would've died a long time ago without that.

At night, Harry was plagued by nightmares, some of the Graveyard, and some of Voldemort and his death eaters. He would wake up with his scar burning, encased in sheets sodden with his own cold sweat and tears streaming down his face. Because of this he began to dread what would happen when the lights turned off, like a child afraid of the dark. At least he had his books to pass the time, losing himself in pages of enchantments and runes. Turns out the latter were pretty useful, if a little time-consuming to erect – in fact, he had placed quite a few wards and runic patterns around his house, to keep out intruders.

If Hermione were to see me now, wondered Harry with a chuckle as he collapsed into a comfy chair and dragged his attention away from the calendar and back to his book. Hogwarts: A History, read the title in emblazoned gold letters across the cover. 'Mione was always going on about it, besides it had saved their arses a few times. It was about time he read it – maybe he should send a copy Ron. Harry was thinking more and more about sending his irate family some more letters. Funnily enough, he had only received a snarky letter from Hermione demanding be get his arse home right away. Again, it was most likely on Dumbles' orders that no letters containing a shred of anything other than 'get home now' to be sent out. Well, he hoped that Dumble-bore was tearing his hair out right now, because according to his watch, everyone should now be arriving at Hogwarts. What would he do without his precious Golden Boy?

Seeing the distant glow of the carriages float serenely up to the great castle had been more than a little jarring for Harry, since part of him was screaming to go and burst into the castle, then announce he was returning to magical society. It was quite lonely being a hermit, having nobody else to talk to besides and owl and a house-elf intent on smacking his head off the wall every time he thought he had revealed too much. Hedwig was a godsend though; without her Harry would have succumbed to the darkness threatening to envelop his life after just a few days at the Dursleys'. He had come close though. Whenever Hedwig left for too long, the razor-blade he kept in the bathroom looked far too enticing, and Harry was swept back to the darker parts of the summer. He had been battling with himself: one part thought it was okay to let out the pain, let his blood drip rhythmically onto the porcelain sink, but part of him wondered what his parents, Sirius, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Hermione, everyone would think if they knew he was doing this to himself. Sometimes the thought of the people closest to him knowing his issues was enough to make him put the blade down. Other times it made it worse. Harry knew that his friends and family would only blame themselves for not being there, and he didn't want that. But he didn't want to be responsible for everyone and what they were dealing with. Harry had enough as it was.

The scars couldn't be healed. He had tried every incantation to take back the damage he had inflicted, but it seemed that injuries caused by the wizard themselves could not be reversed – not completely. Harry thought a few of the spells made some of them fade. He pulled up his sleeve and stared at the various scratches, cuts and indentations carved there by himself - some fresh, some old. It had been a less frequent habit of his since moving into the Shrieking Shack, but hadn't disappeared completely, especially when he was feeling overwhelmed due to all of the deaths he felt he had caused. The guilt threatened to swallow him whole, so he had to get the pain out, one way or another. He didn't care about what happened to him or the people around him; only the silver glint of the blade being dragged across his pale skin. It was only when the blood began to gush out of the wound that he would awake from his trance. Drip, drip, drip. Leave it too long and there would soon be a whole puddle of sticky, warm crimson. The steady drip, like a leaky pipe was like music to his ears, and each time he wondered how big the puddle would get before the darkness finally claimed him.

On September 1st, the occupants of Grimmauld Place set off down to King's Cross, all of them having similar expressions of worry and sadness. Mad-eye, Tonks, Remus, Sirius had decided to accompany them down to the Hogwarts Express, but not to see the children off. The real reason they were there was to find Harry, and drag him home if they had to. Hermione's reasoning was that although Harry could be a bit dense sometimes, there was no way anyone would skip school for something as silly as running away to have a new life, as he put it in his letter. They hadn't seen or heard from Harry all summer apart from that one piece of parchment. The letter was as follows:

Dear everyone,

You may be wondering where I am. No, I haven't been kidnapped by death eaters, nor am I dead. I just decided that after weeks of being excluded from your secret missions and plans and being stuck with the Dursleys' that I'm going to leave it all behind. Start fresh. Maybe I'll come back one day, maybe I won't. Whatever I decide, just know that I miss all of you, and am honoured to have been able to call you friends, family even.

Yours,

Harry.

Despite it sounding that Harry was going to be gone for a while, Sirius took the letter as a sign that his godson was going to turn up on the doorstep the next morning. The man showered and changed his robes (thank god, people were staring to complain about the smell) and looked fresh-faced and full of hope. But Sirius' soaring spirits had started to dwindle as it became more and more apparent that Harry wasn't coming home.

Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione were talking amongst themselves whilst dwindling down the road, trunks in hand. The adults were a good distance away, Sirius trotting along in dog form.

"I have to say, he's got guts," said George. "I don't think I could leave with you-know-who after me. Harry seems to be doing just fine though."

"Well he'd better turn up at the station. I don't know what'll happen to Sirius otherwise." Whispered Ron. The others nodded in agreement, then Ginny said:

"When will we see him again though?"

"I expect Dumbledore will have to tell the ministry now. People are going to ask questions if he doesn't turn up at Hogwarts," Hermione said grimly.

"Maybe they'll be able to dig him out," added Ron.

Fred shook his head. "Do you really want that though? They'll find some way to stop him coming home – probably pin some sort of crime on him."

He frowned, and his eyebrows furrowed. Everyone else's faces looked similar. Ron yawned, and ruffled his shockingly orange hair. "I'll bet you that he's laughing in bed right now. It's too bloody early.

Hermione sighed in agreement, and everyone else did too.

"Too right," grumbled Ginny and George in unison.

"Oi, that's me and George's thing!" said Fred in mock-outrage, breaking the tension. Everyone grinned, and it felt like everything might be okay after all.

When they got to the station, everyone became more visibly tense. Snuffles (what they called Sirius in dog-form) was sprinting around the group in circles, barking impatiently. Moody was scanning the crowd with his eye, leaving sparks as it swivelled around at lightning-speed, and Molly was tight-lipped as she ushered the kids through the barrier. They all burst through the seemingly-opaque brick wall and onto the platform, where the Hogwarts Express sat. Smoke hissed dully out of the top, and its shining body was the usual rube-red. But nobody was looking at the train; all eyes were scouring the gaggles of children with identical trunks and owls, hoping to catch a glimpse of a teen with black hair and piercing green eyes. After a while though, they all realised Harry was not on the platform. A pale-faced Remus asked Ginny in a scratchy voice to go and check the train, so she sped off. A few minutes passed with no-one talking, no-one moving until the youngest Weasley ran back to them.

"Is he…" began Mrs Weasley. Ginny shook her head, and gathered her things before gesturing for the rest of the kids to follow her onto the train.

"Bye, mum – we'll see you at Christmas, 'kay?" said Ron. He was shortly gathered in a suffocating hug and showered with kisses, as the rest of them were. The other adults said goodbye, and Sirius gave a forced cheery bark before watching the kids board the train. The clock struck eleven, and the Hogwarts Express pulled slowly out of the station, gathering with speed as parents yelled things like 'I miss you already!' at their children. The last carriage departed, leaving the remaining adults standing rather shell-shocked on the platform. They all made their way back to headquarters, forlorn, and as soon as they were back through the door all of them collapsed into the chairs; all of them miserable portraits of disappointment. Sirius transformed back into a human in the blink of an eye, and disappeared into the pantry and re-emerged with a bottle of fire-whisky. A few of the people crowded into the kitchen gave the bottle of amber liquid a wary glance before nodding and pushing forward a glass. Sirius filled them all: around 5 in total swirling and slopping about as they made their way to each person.

"He was a good lad, you know," said Remus thickly. "Very rash, but Harry was always nice to people. Apart from that twat Malfoy." He giggled before taking another sip, amber eyes almost matching the liquid he was throwing down his throat.

"Never met him. I bet he's reaaally cool." Said Tonks, her hair cycling through shades of blue, then pink, and finally settling on her natural brown.

"Yeah, he was reeeaaaaaalllyyy cool." Replied Remus.

"Suuuper cool." The two clinked their glasses in agreement together before blushing a little.

A noise from the top of the table startled them all. "So, which lucky sod gets to tell Albus the boy didn't turn up today?" said Mad-eye. His glass was almost untouched, whereas Sirius was on his third. Harry's godfather was slumped against the table, eyes trailing around the floor. He looked a bit… broken.

Tonks giggled and said, "Bagsy not me!" before belching loudly. At this, she and Remus lapsed into a fit of laughter. They had both finished off 2 or so glasses.

"Really, Auror Tonks? You'll regret that tomorrow on your mission." Said Moody, his eyes narrowing in amusement.

That wiped the smile off her face. "Oops. Sorry, Remus. 'Spose I better get going then." She gathered her cloak and swept out of the room, winking at Lupin before she dashed out of the house. Remus smiled and drained the rest of his drink, a deep flush flowing along his face. Sirius caught his glance and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Remus splutter in embarrassment and excuse himself to his room.

"It's my fault," Molly stated to her glass quietly.

"Molly dear, what do you mean? There was no way we could've stopped him – or even known what Harry was planning to do." Said Arthur comfortingly. This didn't stop the tears from spilling down his wife's face.

"But I could've done something. It was his relatives that pushed him over the edge – I just know it."

Sirius' head snapped up, his dark eyes boring into Molly's. "What do you mean?"

Looking uncomfortable, Molly went on; "Well, nearly every holiday he's come to stay with us, and each year he looked much more peaky and pale than when we last saw him at the station. Harry always looked surprised to be handed food, and flinched when anyone came too close. Bruises on his arms and legs that seemed too… suspicious."

Sirius blinked in surprise. "And… did anyone every ask him about how his relatives treated him?"

Again, Molly looked very uncomfortable, and couldn't meet his eyes when she replied. "No… I thought if.. if there was a problem, that Albus would have sorted it. Besides, I didn't want to pry, since Harry didn't talk about them much anyway…" she finished lamely.

"It's okay, Molly. I don't blame you, and anyway Harry not might have known that anything was wrong with the way they treated him." Sirius tried to remain calm and controlled, but his hand shook as he dragged another sip from the glass.

"I think I might call it a night, Sirius." Yawned Arthur, his hands stretching up. "See you round, alright?"

Sirius nodded, and watched the couple trudge back out the kitchen and out of the door, where they presumably disapparated back to the Burrow. Everyone had moved out along with the kids – they had secret missions to embark upon, or just to return to their daily lives. Sirius glanced at his watch. 11'o'clock? Really? They had been talking for hours, when it seemed like hardly any time had passed at all. The windows were an inky black from the dark sky outside, condensation creeping up the panes. He pushed aside his half-finished drink and headed up to bed. He was getting bored of numbing his senses with alcohol – from now on, he would devote all of his time into finding Harry.

*I do not own any characters, all rights to J.K. Rowling.

**Hey guys! I have to explain a few things: firstly, this story is not going to be all tied up in 10 chapters, so it may take a while for things to happen (you should all find next chapter a bit more exciting!). I feel like I have a right to do this as I post every other day or so. Secondly, I am only human, and one new to writing at that. I will probably make mistakes, or forget details, but I will try my best. This story is just a bit of fun, and if it's not to your taste you can go and read the other thousands of stories on fanfiction. Thanks, Tea33.

***P.S. Thank you all for the favourites, replies and follows.