Chapter 1- Escape
Harry Potter laid back on his bed in a state of complete and total boredom. The first two weeks of the summer were some of the toughest he hade ever gone through. From the moment he woke, to the moment he went to bed, and sometimes after, Harry thought of his godfather, whom he had lost forever. Harry had received many letters from friends and Order members, but it was only after a novel-length letter from Hermione that Harry realized Sirius would have laughed at Harry for moping around and grieving. Sirius would have wanted Harry to embrace life and live it to the fullest, taking risks and being adventurous, just as Sirius would have done if his life was not stripped from him by the person that Harry loathed above all others, even Snape. Lord Voldemort.
It was because of him that Harry lived the horrible life he did. Voldemort had taken away Harry's parents, made him into someone to be gawked at by persons on the side of the road. It was his fault that Harry had not known his godfather for the first thirteen years of his life, and then for him to be taken away only two years after their first meeting. Voldemort had devastated the people around him, most noticeably Remus Lupin, whose checkup letters to Harry seemed lifeless and bland. And finally, it was Voldemort's fault that Harry had to become a murderer; It was either that or become a victim. He had to pay.
After dwelling on this, Harry tuned all of his sorrow into rage. For another two weeks, Harry was angry all the time. Harry's parchment-tearing, book-throwing, door-slamming rage has consumed him. He didn't even care about the fact that he startled Hedwig, or that he provoked Aunt Petunia to scream uncontrollably, as if under the Cruciatus Curse, and for Uncle Vernon to stick his tomato-like head into Harry's doorway. Ron's and Hermione's letters were unable to calm him, and when Pigwidgeon had started tapping on Harry's window yesterday, he thought that it would be just another one of Ron's futile letters, but when the hyperactive bird flew through Harry's grasp, dropped the letter onto the bed, and zoomed happily over to Hedwig's water bowl. Harry noticed that the handwriting on the letter was that of Ginny's, and not Ron's. Harry tore open the letter, and began to read.
Dear Harry,
I hope to find that your summer has been going well, because mine has been dreadfully boring. Hermione has told me that you are feeling better and I am glad to hear it. Ron has been acting quite strange lately. He hasn't been eating as much(which, mind you, is still more than twice what a normal person eats), and the rest of the time he spends cooped up in his room with nothing but writing supplies and Pig. I would hate to think that he is actually in there doing homework, turning to the ways of Percy, who still has yet to apologize. I even had to sneak into his room to borrow the bloody owl, but he hasn't noticed as of yet. Hermione is coming to stay with us on Sunday, and we would be delighted if you could join us as well. On that note, Ron and Dad will be by to collect you at noon on Sunday. And for Merlin's sake, Harry, clear away that ridiculous fake fireplace before Dad blasts it away. I truly hope that you are alright, and I miss you very much.
Love,
Ginny
'Wow', Harry thought to himself. 'Love? What does she mean by that?' Harry had always known that Ginny was a bit taken with him, but he thought she had gotten over the hero-worshipping. 'Maybe it's my astonishingly good looks that shake her to the core', Harry joked. But he couldn't think about that right now, with Ron coming in two days.
After about an hour in a state of absolute euphoria, he had an extraordinary amount of summer holiday work that he had to accomplish. Harry spent the next two days discussing Human transfiguration, beazles, and Summoning Charms, not to mention an essay on knarls. Harry also used the nighttime to pack his belongings. And, on the day Ron was supposed to arrive, Harry realized that while his true hatred towards Voldemort had not disappeared, his visible anger, that which including book-throwing, had subsided. It was then that Harry heard a crash in the sitting room.
"Boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. Harry ran down the stairs, with his trunk and Hedwig's cage in tote. As Harry passed his cousin's room, he saw Dudley squeezing himself into a corner of the room, afraid to be on a direct line with the wizards in the sitting room. He continued on, and as he entered the room, Aunt Petunia ran out in disgust. Uncle Vernon was looking at Mr. Weasley with the look that Harry gave Snape: Pure and total hatred.
"Harry, my boy, I hope you had an excellent summer but we really must be going. Say goodbye to your uncle," instructed Mr. Weasley.
"Goodbye, sir."
"Mate, we've really got to get going," said Ron.
Harry placed his trunk into the fireplace after tossing on the sparkling Floo Powder. He stepped in and screamed "The Burrow" and promptly was propelled past thousands of grates before being deposited on the cold stone floor of the Weasley home. After standing up and dusting himself off, Harry was dragged into a hug by a woman that was now at least six inches shorter than him, but forceful all the same. "Hello, Harry dear."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said while he dusted himself off again, after being thrown to the ground by Ron's arrival. "Where is everyone?"
Oh, well Bill and Charlie are at work, and the twins are in that ridiculous shop of theirs. And Ginny is upstairs in her room. Go upstairs and put your things away, I need a moment with Ron."
As Harry exited the kitchen and proceeded into the next room, he looked up and saw Ginny on the stairs for what must have been the millionth time, but it was a seemed to be a whole new experience. He promptly fell to the hard stone floor for the third time that day.
Harry Potter laid back on his bed in a state of complete and total boredom. The first two weeks of the summer were some of the toughest he hade ever gone through. From the moment he woke, to the moment he went to bed, and sometimes after, Harry thought of his godfather, whom he had lost forever. Harry had received many letters from friends and Order members, but it was only after a novel-length letter from Hermione that Harry realized Sirius would have laughed at Harry for moping around and grieving. Sirius would have wanted Harry to embrace life and live it to the fullest, taking risks and being adventurous, just as Sirius would have done if his life was not stripped from him by the person that Harry loathed above all others, even Snape. Lord Voldemort.
It was because of him that Harry lived the horrible life he did. Voldemort had taken away Harry's parents, made him into someone to be gawked at by persons on the side of the road. It was his fault that Harry had not known his godfather for the first thirteen years of his life, and then for him to be taken away only two years after their first meeting. Voldemort had devastated the people around him, most noticeably Remus Lupin, whose checkup letters to Harry seemed lifeless and bland. And finally, it was Voldemort's fault that Harry had to become a murderer; It was either that or become a victim. He had to pay.
After dwelling on this, Harry tuned all of his sorrow into rage. For another two weeks, Harry was angry all the time. Harry's parchment-tearing, book-throwing, door-slamming rage has consumed him. He didn't even care about the fact that he startled Hedwig, or that he provoked Aunt Petunia to scream uncontrollably, as if under the Cruciatus Curse, and for Uncle Vernon to stick his tomato-like head into Harry's doorway. Ron's and Hermione's letters were unable to calm him, and when Pigwidgeon had started tapping on Harry's window yesterday, he thought that it would be just another one of Ron's futile letters, but when the hyperactive bird flew through Harry's grasp, dropped the letter onto the bed, and zoomed happily over to Hedwig's water bowl. Harry noticed that the handwriting on the letter was that of Ginny's, and not Ron's. Harry tore open the letter, and began to read.
Dear Harry,
I hope to find that your summer has been going well, because mine has been dreadfully boring. Hermione has told me that you are feeling better and I am glad to hear it. Ron has been acting quite strange lately. He hasn't been eating as much(which, mind you, is still more than twice what a normal person eats), and the rest of the time he spends cooped up in his room with nothing but writing supplies and Pig. I would hate to think that he is actually in there doing homework, turning to the ways of Percy, who still has yet to apologize. I even had to sneak into his room to borrow the bloody owl, but he hasn't noticed as of yet. Hermione is coming to stay with us on Sunday, and we would be delighted if you could join us as well. On that note, Ron and Dad will be by to collect you at noon on Sunday. And for Merlin's sake, Harry, clear away that ridiculous fake fireplace before Dad blasts it away. I truly hope that you are alright, and I miss you very much.
Love,
Ginny
'Wow', Harry thought to himself. 'Love? What does she mean by that?' Harry had always known that Ginny was a bit taken with him, but he thought she had gotten over the hero-worshipping. 'Maybe it's my astonishingly good looks that shake her to the core', Harry joked. But he couldn't think about that right now, with Ron coming in two days.
After about an hour in a state of absolute euphoria, he had an extraordinary amount of summer holiday work that he had to accomplish. Harry spent the next two days discussing Human transfiguration, beazles, and Summoning Charms, not to mention an essay on knarls. Harry also used the nighttime to pack his belongings. And, on the day Ron was supposed to arrive, Harry realized that while his true hatred towards Voldemort had not disappeared, his visible anger, that which including book-throwing, had subsided. It was then that Harry heard a crash in the sitting room.
"Boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. Harry ran down the stairs, with his trunk and Hedwig's cage in tote. As Harry passed his cousin's room, he saw Dudley squeezing himself into a corner of the room, afraid to be on a direct line with the wizards in the sitting room. He continued on, and as he entered the room, Aunt Petunia ran out in disgust. Uncle Vernon was looking at Mr. Weasley with the look that Harry gave Snape: Pure and total hatred.
"Harry, my boy, I hope you had an excellent summer but we really must be going. Say goodbye to your uncle," instructed Mr. Weasley.
"Goodbye, sir."
"Mate, we've really got to get going," said Ron.
Harry placed his trunk into the fireplace after tossing on the sparkling Floo Powder. He stepped in and screamed "The Burrow" and promptly was propelled past thousands of grates before being deposited on the cold stone floor of the Weasley home. After standing up and dusting himself off, Harry was dragged into a hug by a woman that was now at least six inches shorter than him, but forceful all the same. "Hello, Harry dear."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said while he dusted himself off again, after being thrown to the ground by Ron's arrival. "Where is everyone?"
Oh, well Bill and Charlie are at work, and the twins are in that ridiculous shop of theirs. And Ginny is upstairs in her room. Go upstairs and put your things away, I need a moment with Ron."
As Harry exited the kitchen and proceeded into the next room, he looked up and saw Ginny on the stairs for what must have been the millionth time, but it was a seemed to be a whole new experience. He promptly fell to the hard stone floor for the third time that day.