Someday, I will own something of great value. This will not be Harry Potter, as J K Rowling already owns it.
Waiting To Go Somewhere (anywhere)
Harry was sitting back against the wall on the floor as he and the Dursleys watched the muggle news. They, of course, were all on comfortable chairs or sofas, which Harry couldn't understand. They were the ones with extra padding, why couldn't Dudley sit on the floor and Harry get the big armchair? He'd asked this a while ago, and infuriated the three of them so much that Dudley snuck into his room to give him a sound beating. Of course, Harry was by now much stronger, not to mention had faced worse opponents than Dudley and gave him a black eye and broken ribs fighting back. Funny, Dudley never mentioned it now, probably out of shame that the runty freak had hit him just as bad as he hit Harry. This hadn't really solved anything, however. Harry was still sitting on the floor.
"And now onto our local news," the newscaster said in a cheery voice, rather too cheery for the things he was reporting. Threatening graffiti on the public washrooms (courtesy of Dudley, although no one knew that), some old lady getting mugged (not actually Dudley's gang), a strain of small pets going missing (most of that was Dudley's gang, but one night, Hedwig had brought back a large rat that looked suspiciously like a Chihuahua), your basic lineup of depressing topics that actually aren't nearly as bad as they sound. "There was some excitement on the highway from London this morning. A car, still unidentified, caught fire about 10 km (do they use kilometers or miles? It's about 6 mi if anyone cares) east of the city limits. Police suspect it may have been a terrorist, or a suicidal felon driving a car bomb..."
"East of London!" Aunt Petunia's excited, whining voice cut across the report. "He could have been coming here, couldn't he?"
"Nonsense, Petunia dear. What could possibly be in Little Whinging that a terrorist would want to blow up? This is a good neighborhood, dear, that's why we picked it. That sort of thing happens to big places, or ones who have been too lax with the law." Uncle Vernon was still miraculously overlooking the fact that his son was leading the most organized, dangerous gang to hit the Surrey area in decades. And, they seemed to have forgotten Harry. Actually, they weren't the only ones. Today, someone from the Order was due to pick him up and take him somewhere he could actually enjoy the last two weeks of vacation. They'd probably been delayed again, or all the members got called out for something, or they'd just decided he'd be safer in his miserable existence at Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry sighed, bored with the news (he was still hoping for something about the war) and climbed the stairs to his room.
"Hullo, Hedwig," he said dully to the snowy owl sitting on his bed. She glared at him, hooting to show her displeasure at still being in the Dursley's house. "Oh, leave off, Hedwig, it's not my fault. I'd much rather be at the Weasley's, or the Order, or just about anywhere else. At least you can fly anywhere you want. I'm stuck here until the Order finally shows up. They're late." Hedwig hooted again, more insistently this time. "What? Oh, the paper came."
The Daily Prophet was still being delivered to Harry's house, but there hadn't been anything of interest in wizarding news either. Today, however, the headline read, "Ministry Auror Attacked on Vacation Trip" Harry sat down on the bed, flicking on the light. The only people who would dare attack an Auror were a pack of Death Eaters. And if the Death Eaters were moving, it meant something was finally happening. He scanned the article. It looked like something the Ministry would like to pretend hadn't happened but too many people saw it. It was all full of assurances that no wizards or muggles had been seriously hurt, there was no direct evidence pointing to foul play, blah, blah, blah... the Auror had been driving a car out to Surrey for a weekend to do some horseback riding or something like that when the car exploded. Shacklebolt was in St. Mungo's in stable condition.
Wait a second. Shacklebolt? Kingsley Shackebolt? Driving to Surrey in a muggle car? Oh, shoot. That's why he was still here. The Death Eaters were still after him, and they were getting closer. And they'd attacked Shacklebolt because they thought Harry was with him. He felt kind of guilty about that. Shacklebolt had enough to do with his Auror job, and being a member of the Order, the last thing he needed was to have forced time off because of a low-priority mission. Although, if the attack was anything to go by, Harry did need the protection. If the Death Eaters were willing to risk blowing up an Auror's car in the middle of a busy highway, it was getting very dangerous for him to go anywhere. Not feeling at all as excited or relieved as he expected he would about news of Death Eater movement, Harry changed into a pair of rather over- sized pajamas Dudley had handed down three years ago. "Goodnight, Hedwig. Don't get yourself caught by any Death Eaters tonight, okay?" Harry said as he shut off the light and lay down in bed.