Author's Note: Some of the text from Dobby's visit to Harry is taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and/or paraphrased from that same source.
I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or locations referred to, and this is a non-remunerable Fair Use Doctrine exercise.
No ship.
14th June 1992
4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging.
"No."
Vernon was adamant.
"But the letter says his term ends on 30th June."
"He's not coming back, Petunia."
"But-"
"No. I won't have it. We've put up with him for ten years and that's the lot. No more. That's my final word."
Petunia looked conflicted.
"Should I write back and tell them?" she asked.
"No. Let them find out from the boy, if he wants to tell them."
"Okay, Vernon."
30th June 1992
Kings Cross Station, London
Harry was one of the last through the barrier, reluctantly leaving the magical world behind him as he dragged his trunk along the platform and onto the main concourse. He exchanged greetings and farewells with the Weasleys as they were met by Molly, and they left him to search out the Dursleys alone.
Half an hour later, Harry was still searching. Twice he'd had to reassure one of the policemen at the station that he was fine, and was just waiting for relatives to pick him up; that they had no doubt been delayed in the London traffic and that his uncle would be going mad at the delay.
Another hour went past, and the policeman insisted that he phone them to check they were actually coming to pick him up; that they hadn't gotten the wrong date or forgotten about him.
To Harry's surprise Petunia picked up the phone.
"Hello. Dursley residence."
"Aunt Petunia, it's Harry. I'm at Kings Cross."
"Let me put Vernon on."
There was a brief pause.
"Now listen here, boy," Vernon snarled down the phone line. "We put up with you for ten years, fed you and kept you safe. Now you're back with your freak wizard world and you can stay there. You don't live here any more, and we don't want you back, you understand?"
"But..."
"You'll have to find someone else to put up with you. We've had enough!"
As the line was cut, Harry imagined hearing the receiver crash down onto its base in typical angry Vernon fashion, and slowly replaced the handset at his own end, a feeling of panic starting to overwhelm him, until suddenly, he realised, he was finally free from the Dursleys.
He'd been dreading returning to Privet Drive for the whole of the train ride south from Hogwarts, and it now appeared that there was an open door in front of him; to go where he wanted to go, rather than with Vernon back to Little Whinging.
Had he known this before getting off the train, he might have asked the Weasleys or the Grangers if he could stay with them, but now his options were slightly different. He could phone the Grangers, he thought, but it would have been a bit rude to ask them to turn around and come back to London, having just gotten home.
He saw the policeman approaching again, and made a quick decision.
"Forgotten about you, had they?"
"No, but there's a problem at home," he replied, "and they haven't been able to make it.
"I've got to go and stay with some friends of mine who live nearby for the night," he lied. "What's the best way to Charing Cross Road from here?"
"Which end do you want? Tottenham Court Road end or Trafalgar Square?"
"'bout half-way," Harry extemporised.
"Leicester Square station's probably your best bet, young man. Take the tube there. Piccadilly line straight there. About fifteen minutes. Brings you out opposite the Hippodrome. Sure you're okay on your own, son?"
Harry nodded.
"Yeah. Getting this down the escalator's probably going to be the hardest bit," he said.
"Let me help you then," the policeman said, and promptly picked up Harry's trunk and began leading the way.
2nd July 1992
Travel Inn, Leicester Square
The helpful policeman had arranged with the Underground station staff for Harry to have help with his trunk at the other end as well, so although it was getting dark by the time that he emerged out onto Cranbourne Street, just off Charing Cross Road, he was still easily able to find the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron where he stayed for the night, assuring the barkeeper that he was going home the next day and there wasn't anyone that needed to be notified he was there.
Instead of going home, he'd been very busy.
Gringotts had been most helpful in arranging a bank account for him at the Midland Bank on King Street less than half a mile away. A regular transfer of funds to that account so that he had a continuous flow of real money (though Harry had a suspicion that he wasn't getting a very good rate of exchange), saw the bank happy to open an account for him, even without guardianship signatures once they saw the countersignature from Gringotts.
The goblins had also informed him that he had two properties that he could eventually live in, though they weren't suitable for immediate occupation.
Potter Manor was rather large and access was currently restricted. Harry wouldn't be able to get access to it until he turned seventeen, and it was currently being well-managed by a team of House Elves.
The cottage at Godric's Hollow, meanwhile, was still a complete wreck, and had not been attended to since his parents had died there back in 1981. Harry made arrangements with Gringotts for it to be reconditioned and refurbished, but it wouldn't be fit for him to use for at least six months.
So Harry had sought out a hotel. Initially, the staff at the Travel Inn had seemed rather wary of an eleven-year-old living there by himself, even though he had the means to pay for his extended stay, and warned him that if there was any trouble they would call the Police and Social Services and let them deal with him.
Having the freedom to be able to come and go in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds was suddenly an eye-opener for Harry, and he was now planning what to do with his summer holiday in the absence of chores for the Dursleys.
15th July 1992
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Albus? Are you there?"
Headmaster Dumbledore bent down to look into his Floo grate and was surprised to see the face of Arabella Figg. It was rare that Arabella contacted him, usually only after she had spent the day minding young Harry when the Dursleys went out and left him behind. Hopefully nothing had gone seriously wrong for her to be calling now!
"Hello Arabella, my dear. What can I do for you? Did you want to come on through?"
"No, Headmaster, I just wanted to check something with you," she replied.
Dumbledore knew that Arabella didn't feel comfortable in his office, but he made the offer anyway. It certainly was easier for him to be seated in his chair rather than bent over in front of the fireplace, after all.
"Very well. What can I help you with?"
"I was just chatting to Petunia this morning," she began, "and wondering whether she needed me to keep an eye on Harry at all this summer, but she told me that it wouldn't be necessary. She said something about him being schooled at a secure institution – a St Brutus's or some such. Surely that's not right? Harry did come to Hogwarts, didn't he?"
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore reassured her. "Harry's been here all year, so no need to fret, my dear. I'm sure that Petunia was just covering for the fact that she can't mention Hogwarts to anybody. After all, she doesn't know that you're a Squib, does she?"
"No, not as far as I know," Mrs Figg told him.
"Well I'm sure everything's quite all right, Arabella, but do contact me again if there are any further problems."
With that, Dumbledore cut off the connection and returned to his difficulties in finding a teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts for the coming year.
29th July 1992
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Diagon Alley
Four weeks of blissful, Dursley-free summer holiday had gradually improved Harry's disposition.
Someone at the Travel Inn had apparently contacted Social Services after all, and a young social worker had visited him in his room to check up on him.
She'd left fairly impressed with his self-sufficiency. He'd replaced Dudley's cast off clothes within the first few days of the holidays with trips to Marks and Spencer on Oxford Street and to the Markets in Carnaby Street, and had a variety of both smart-casual wear and typical teenager clothes, and had kept them clean and well-aired with a mixture of Cleaning Charms and a couple of visits to the laundrette, so he appeared to be well-enough groomed and not needing particular care.
His diet was reasonably well-balanced, mixing meals from various local restaurants some days with sandwiches and salads bought in the local grocery stores on others, so although she thought he might do better with proper home cooking, the fact that he was going back to boarding school at the start of September reassured the young lady that it wasn't going to be a significant problem.
All said, the department had to deal with young boys and girls who were at much greater risk and had greater needs, so she was content to leave him be given that he had money and sense, but left him a number of people to call should he run into any difficulties as well as her own office phone number, and advised that she'd check up on him again before he went back to school.
She took down the Dursleys' details and promised to follow up on their neglect, but told him that he wouldn't be expected to go back there even if they were found to be suitable parents.
"You wonder where this sort of care system is in the Wizarding World," Harry was telling Lee Jordan as they sat in the sunshine outside the shop.
"Not much call for it, I don't think," he said. "Ministry doesn't take much notice of abused kids from what I can see."
Harry thought that was probably true. The only place anyone would probably notice would be at Hogwarts if someone went to Madam Pomfrey with problems.
"Have you heard from the Weasleys at all this summer?" Harry asked. "Only I wrote to them a couple of times but haven't heard anything back. Ron did say he was going to ask if I could visit."
"Yeah, I've had letters from Fred and George, and they said they'd be here in the Alley at some point and would let me know when so we could meet up."
"Hmm, that's odd. When I phoned Hermione yesterday she said she'd written to me, but I still haven't received anything from her. Hedwig's been delivering my letters okay, but I don't seem to be getting anything back."
"Weird," Lee said. "You've not got a mail ward on you or anything?"
"No idea. How would I know?"
"Dunno. You'll have to ask an adult."
"Yeah. Or maybe ask Hermione to research it."
"No library during the holidays though," Lee pointed out.
"Fair point. If you're writing to Fred and George again can you tell them to let Ron know I'm okay and I haven't gotten any letters from him this summer?"
"Yeah. Will do."
"Thanks. Hermione's going to try sending me a letter to the Hotel via Royal Mail, so we'll see if that arrives."
"Mister Potter!" came a stern cry from down the street, causing everyone to stop and look around. "What are you doing here on your own!"
Approaching them was Professor McGonagall, accompanied by a young boy and his parents, presumably being introduced to the Wizarding World ahead of his First Year at Hogwarts.
"I'm having an ice cream, Professor. With a friend. Is that a problem?"
"Where are your guardians?"
"Well, I expect Uncle Vernon is at work, and Aunt Petunia is at home, probably gossiping with one of the neighbours."
"I mean, Mister Potter, why are you not with them!"
Harry sighed. It looked like his independence might shortly be coming to an end if he didn't head Professor McGonagall off now. The husband and wife with her looked rather confused at the situation.
"Professor, I'm sure you are aware that my aunt and uncle are afraid of magic and wizards; having them come to Diagon Alley with me would hardly be fair on them, would it?"
"Nevertheless, young man, you should not be out and about on your own. If your guardians aren't comfortable coming to Diagon Alley you should have arranged for another adult to bring you."
"Why are you picking on me, when clearly Lee is here on his own as well. If it's okay for him, why isn't it okay for me? And why shouldn't I be allowed out in the magical world during the holidays?"
"It isn't safe for you, Mister Potter," McGonagall huffed.
"Then why is it safe for anyone else?" Harry asked.
"That isn't the point, young man," she continued. "And I think you should come with me and I'll take you back to Privet Drive myself."
"Sorry, Professor, but I've not finished my ice cream, or my visit with my friend here."
"I'm going to have to insist."
"Insist all you want, Professor, but it's the summer holidays and you don't have any authority over me or what I do during the summer."
"Very well, but I shall be reporting your presence here to the Headmaster."
"Do you do that for every Hogwarts student you find in Diagon Alley? I should think you'll have a list as long as your arm, Professor. Professor Dumbledore doesn't have any authority over what his pupils do during the summer, either, so I can't see what business it is of his if I come out and have an ice cream."
Harry deliberately turned away from Professor McGonagall and continued his conversation with Lee.
"I think you're going to get into trouble for that when we get back to school, Harry," Lee told him.
"I don't see why I should. As I said, they only have any authority over me when I'm actually at Hogwarts, not at any other time."
"Even so..."
Seeing that Harry was ignoring her and had closed off the conversation, McGonagall turned back to her companions and ushered them away, muttering about "rude youngsters" to herself.
31st July 1992
4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging
A knock on the door interrupted Vernon and Petunia's evening meal.
"Who could that be, at this time of day, Pet?" Vernon wondered.
Petunia wondered too, and rose from the table to find out. When she opened the door an elderly lady with rather outdated clothes stood there.
"Can I help you?" Petunia asked.
"Yes," the lady replied. "I'm here to see your nephew, Harry. I'm a Professor at his school-"
"He doesn't live here anymore," Petunia replied sharply.
"What do you mean, 'he doesn't live here anymore'?"
"Exactly that. Is the meaning not clear? This is no longer his home. He's gone away to your school of witchcraft and whatsitry, so he's your responsibility now. Vernon and I have done our part."
Professor McGonagall was stunned. They'd turned an eleven-year-old out on the streets?
"Who is it, Pet?" came Vernon's voice from the dining room.
"It's a woman from Harry's school," Petunia called back.
"Tell her to go away," Vernon shouted. "The freak doesn't live here anymore and we don't want anything to do with them!"
"As you can hear from my husband," Petunia told the shocked Professor, "you and your type are not welcome here, particularly not my nephew. So if you don't mind..."
Petunia went to close the door, but was stopped by McGonagall's hand.
"Where is he, then?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Petunia told her. "He rang us from the station when he got back from school, no doubt expecting us to turn out in the middle of the evening to pick him up from London, and we told him to stay away."
"So he could be anywhere?"
Petunia shrugged and succeeded this time on closing the door in McGonagall's face, before returning to her now-cold dinner.
31st July 1992
Travel Inn, Leicester Square
Harry returned from his dinner at a nearby Pizza restaurant to a surprise in his hotel room.
Sitting on Harry's bed was a strange looking creature about half Harry's height, dressed in something like a toga, and with eyes about the size of a tennis ball.
"Who are you?"
"I is Dobby, sir," the creature replied. "Dobby the House-elf."
"Really," Harry said. The goblins had mentioned the House elves who worked at Potter Manor, but this was the first time Harry had actually seen one. "What do you do?"
"Dobby is only a lowly number three elf. Does whatever Master requires, sir."
"Okay. So what does your Master require of me, Dobby?"
The odd creature started banging his head against the wall. Harry was glad that it was a wall that adjoined the corridor rather than another room, as he didn't want to get kicked out of the hotel for making too much noise.
"Dobby is bad elf," the House-elf moaned. "Master does not know Dobby is here."
"Stop that!" Harry insisted. "So why are you here then?"
"Dobby hears about the great Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord. Dobby hears that Harry Potter is noble and valiant as well as kind. Dobby hear that the great Harry Potter faced the Dark Lord again just weeks ago... that Harry Potter escaped again."
"Err, well." Harry was at a loss for words with the honorifics being heaped upon him by this creature. "I had help, you know."
"Oh, the great Harry Potter is modest as well as valiant," the House-elf cried. "But Dobby comes to give Harry Potter a message. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts. There is great danger."
"What? But I've got to go back. That's where all my friends are." Harry realised as he was saying it that whilst that was true to an extent, there was no real reason why they would not still be his friends if he didn't go back to Hogwarts... except...
"Friends that do not write to Harry Potter?
"Even friends that... wait! What do you know about my friends not writing to me? I spoke to Hermione and she said she had written. Have you been stealing my mail?"
"Dobby has them here." From underneath his toga, the creature pulled out a small stack of letters, but held them away, and out of Harry's reach. "Harry Potter sir mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped that if Harry Potter thought that his friends were not writing to them then he would not want to go back to Hogwarts..."
Harry made a grab for the letters, but Dobby was too quick and kept them out of his grasp.
"No, no. Harry Potter can have his letters only if he gives Dobby his word that he will not go back to Hogwarts."
"But I have to go back. If there is danger then I need to keep my friends safe."
"Harry Potter is so brave, but he must not go back."
Harry started chasing the little Elf around the room, shouting at him to give his mail back, but in vain, as the House-elf was easily able to evade him.
Eventually someone from an adjoining room banged on the wall and shouted at him to keep the noise down, and Harry had to relent.
"Seriously, Dobby." he said with a huff and a puff as he got his wind back. "What is there that is such a danger at Hogwarts. I've already faced Voldemor-"
"Don't say the name, Harry Potter sir!"
"Fine. I've already faced He-who-must-not-be-named at Hogwarts. How can it be any more dangerous than that?"
"Dobby knows. There is a plot."
"Very well, Dobby. If that's what it takes to get my mail, I'll not go back to Hogwarts."
"Harry Potter sir is wise as well as modest," the little Elf said, and put the letters down on the bed behind him. "But Dobby will know if you try to go back."
The Elf disappeared with a loud 'crack' leaving Harry alone and out of breath on his bed.
3rd August 1992
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office along with Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall. Both loyal to him personally, yet of completely contrasting temperaments and expertise.
McGonagall had just reviewed her meeting with Harry in Diagon Alley and her visit to the Dursleys, and still seemed to be stuck somewhere between still in a snit at Harry's attitude towards her and horror at Petunia's casual dismissal and rejection of the boy.
"Thank you, Minerva. As you can see, Severus, Harry has gone missing. Apparently abandoned by his guardians and left to fend for himself."
"More like he ran away from them because he wasn't sufficiently pampered," Snape said with a sneer.
"Severus! I've just told you what his relatives said about him – they never had any intention of picking him up from the station, nor of inviting him back into their household," McGonagall said.
"I suppose you've asked Weasley and Granger, and their parents?" Snape asked.
"Yes. Hermione Granger said she had spoken to him on the telephone twice, but had not seen him," Dumbledore related. "Nor did she know where he was. He seemed happy enough.
"Ron Weasley had received a letter from him soon after they returned from Hogwarts, and had written back but not heard anything further."
"So if Minerva saw him in Diagon Alley the other day and he was fine then, why are we concerned?" Snape asked.
"Because the young man should be living with his Aunt and Uncle, not by himself," Dumbledore replied. "I have specifically placed protections on the house where his family live so that he can be safe there from anyone who might mean him harm. You know very well that he is the boy foretold by the Prophecy."
"Pah!" Snape spat. "If he doesn't turn up on 1st September you might have a problem, I suppose, but you're wasting time worrying about him between then and now, Headmaster."
"I'm sorry that you feel that way, Severus," Dumbledore said, "but we need to find him, as quickly as possible. What would happen if someone dangerous were to realise that he wasn't as safe as expected?"
"You're worrying too much. It's only four weeks now until the start of term."
1st September 1992
Kings Cross Station, London
The remainder of the summer went smoothly for Harry. Nobody from Hogwarts pestered him at all, although he had worried a little when his school supplies letter had arrived addressed to him at the Travel Inn, but it appeared that no one paid attention to such things, and nobody turned up to corral him back to Little Whinging, for which he was thankful.
Having had chance to browse at Flourish and Blotts days before meeting Hermione and the Weasleys in Diagon Alley, he quickly realised that the Gilderoy Lockhart books were a complete waste of time, and decided not to buy them.
Whilst having access to both his money and a wide array of shops was very tempting to Harry, he made sure not to lay out large sums or waste a lot of money on things he didn't need, but he did visit an opticians and get his eyes tested and his glasses changed for something a little more modern. He also visited St Mungo's Hospital and made sure that he was checked over and that he received the normal childhood innoculations that the Dursleys had never bothered to take him for.
He enjoyed meeting various people over the summer in Diagon Alley, most of whom were accompanied by their parents, and he got to know people in his year a bit more widely than he had ever been able to do at school.
The highlight of the summer was meeting Hermione and the Weasleys when they came to do their Hogwarts shopping, although Mrs Weasley had been rather vocal at his reported insolence to Professor McGonagall.
"You really should treat your Professors with more respect, Harry," she told him in firm tones. "You can't go around refusing to do what they say."
"I'm sorry Mrs Weasley, but I don't think I was disrespectful at all. I'm sure Professor McGonagall doesn't turn up and give any other children an earful about going out for an ice cream during their summer holiday."
"That's not the point, Harry. You should have been safe at home with your aunt and uncle, not gadding about in London as you please."
"Well, I'm afraid I had little choice in the matter. My relatives made it very plain that they did not want me to come back. They left me at the station, remember."
Mrs Weasley had tried to argue that Harry should have come to stay with them, but he made it clear that adding another mouth to feed to their already stretched budget didn't sit well with him, especially once he realised that they would have to buy several sets of the Gilderoy Lockhart books. She would have no word said against the foppish author, but was glad when Fred and George offered to share a set rather than have one each.
Harry arrived at Kings Cross early only to find a queue already forming between Platforms Nine and Ten.
"The barrier's not open yet," someone towards the front said, as they stood there waiting.
By ten minutes to eleven, the barrier still had not opened, and a small group of the older students went off to The Leaky Cauldron to Floo call Hogwarts and let them know that there was a problem at the station.
It was too late, though, and the Hogwarts Express set off northwards with no passengers.
By noon, the Hogwarts staff had started taking the children off in twos and threes and either apparated them to the station in Hogsmeade for further transportation in the carriages, or took them by Floo directly to Hogwarts.
Two days later, the Ministry workers assigned to the problem reported back that they had been unable to find any faults with the barrier and it had worked perfectly for them.
Epilogue
2nd September 1992
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
"Ah, Harry. Do come in." the Headmaster waved him to a seat in front of the imposing and paperwork-covered desk.
"Yes, sir. You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Indeed. Yes. I have to say that I was very disappointed in you this summer, not returning to live with your family."
"I didn't have much choice, sir. They didn't come to Kings Cross to pick me up, and when I phoned them to see if they were coming they told me that I was no longer welcome with them."
"Maybe so, dear boy, but you could have come to me and I could have settled the misunderstanding between you."
"What misunderstanding, sir? As far as I can see it was pretty simple. No misunderstanding. They didn't want me, and to be truthful, I didn't want to live with them, either."
"Surely you don't mean that, Harry? They are your family, after all. I understand that families can have their disagreements, but you need to rise above that, and I'm sure with a little effort on your part you could quite easily have mended those fences."
"Why would I want to do that, sir? They treated me like an unpaid servant from the time I was old enough to see over the countertop. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs for ten years, into which I was shoved and locked at the slightest sign of anything abnormal happening, and was called 'freak' or 'boy' far more often than my own name."
"Oh, you really shouldn't exaggerate so, Harry," Dumbledore insisted. "I'm sure your family love you, and a little hard work never hurt anyone."
"Then they have a very strange way of showing it, sir."
"Well I'm sure that's well in the past, and you'll be able to return there next summer, won't you?"
"I'm not sure what makes you think that, Headmaster. As I've said, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia have made it clear that I can no longer consider 4 Privet Drive to be my home, and I have to say that I am in complete agreement with them. I'm sure I'll find somewhere appropriate to stay next summer as well."
"And where were you think summer, if you don't mind me asking?"
"In a hotel near Charing Cross, where I could visit Diagon Alley when I felt like it, yet still be in the real world. Your supplies letter reached me without any trouble."
"You mean the Muggle world?"
"Well, yes, the real world. Where I would have been had I been restricted to Little Whinging, to be honest, only actually with the opportunity to explore a little."
"And do you intend to return there next year?"
Harry wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was trying to find out the information in order to prevent him going back there or if he intended to use it to collect him from there and try to deposit him back at Privet Drive, but he wasn't going to be that easy to track down.
"I haven't decided yet. I may do. Or I may stay somewhere else. What business is it of yours where I stay during the holidays in any case, Headmaster?"
"I'm merely looking out for your welfare, dear boy. I can't have my students disappearing into thin air when they leave Hogwarts and before their parents collect them, now can I?"
"Perhaps not, but since you aren't my guardian, and my guardians made it clear that they didn't want me, I'm not sure you have any further role. Unless, of course, you are going to insist that your jurisdiction extends into being my guardian? In which case, I would argue that you have been distinctly neglectful in your duty, having left me with abusive people and never checked on my well-being.
"Anyway, I think I'm done here, sir, unless you have any other questions that actually relate to my schooling?"
"Harry, please, you must understand that living with your aunt and uncle is important-
"That'll be a 'no' then, I guess, Headmaster. Thank you for your time. I'm sure you're a busy man without having to track down non-disappearing, perfectly safe people you have no authority over.
"Goodnight."