Disclaimer: Do I even have to bother?
Okay, I know the story is off to a slow start, but I have already written other more interesting chapters so be patient please. I know what I am doing…I think!
Goodie2Shoe
Harry stumbled out the door, still amazed that only twenty minutes ago he had been in his room facing an indefinite amount of time at number four Privet Drive and he was now following one of his least favorite people to some unknown destination.
The summer had been a predictably boring one for Harry thus far, even though things seemed to have improved for him in terms of the letters he had received from his friends and the considerable amount of liberties the Dursley's had begrudgingly afforded him. Harry suspected that the memory of Mad Eye Moody's threat was the cause behind the Dursley's indifference as to Harry's actions. Unfortunately, having no new complaints against the Dursley's and suffering no new injustices left Harry with only one thing to contemplate during those long summer hours; his godfather's death and the contents of the broken prophecy.
The heat of the night enveloped the two figures as they walked out of the front door and across the fine trimmed lawn that Uncle Vernon took so much pride in. The two shadows passed by the Dursley's wilting Rhododendrons which, to the extreme anger of their owners, had become stricken with a Rhododendron virus that plagued Surrey and the surrounding countryside that summer. In fact, Aunt Petunia had taken personal offense to her prize winning Rhododendrons falling ill, exclaiming, "leaves drooping as though it were some sort of common houseplant!" in dismay. What the Dursley's, or any other muggle for that matter, didn't know was that this mystery Rhododendron illness originated when the elderly Agatha Criftwing accidentally dumped a cauldron of spoiled potion into her flowerbeds in the beginning of May.
"Lumos" Snape murmured and the tip of his wand shone brightly into the night while he shoved the birdcage holding both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon unceremoniously into Harry's chest. The two owls screeched as Snape took several large strides towards the street and, without offering Harry any help with his trunk, continued up Privet Drive. Harry puffed noisily behind Snape who looked over his shoulder at Harry every once and a while with distaste as though Harry was something especially nasty thathe had just stepped in.
The heat intensified from the exertion of carrying his things and Harry's sweaty hands began to slip from the handles of his trunk so that Harry was just thinking that he wouldn't be able to walk any further when Snape came to a halt outside of the gate of the playground near Magnolia Crescent. Suddenly he began riffling through the hedges that surrounded the fenced playground. Harry had no idea why Snape had taken a sudden interest in pruning a seemingly simple muggle bush located near the entrance to the children's playground.
"What are we doing here Sn—professor?" Harry asked with a genuine sense of bewilderment. As Harry received a "Shut up Potter!" from his companion he thought darkly, never fingered Snape as a gardener... The idea of Snape in overalls and gardening gloves carry a pink watering can and pruning shears was a bit too much for Harry's senses to handle. "Have you lost something Professor?" Harry asked, this time with a feigned innocence and inquisitiveness. The subsequent cough Harry issued started as a chuckle but ended similarly to the cough of one who has accidentally swallowed a small summer fly.
Harry wasn't sure if it was only his imagination or if Snape's nostrils were actually dilating in an effort to sniff out the object he was searching for. After a few minutes Snape rose triumphantly, brushing several leaves off of his robes, holding a Mars Bar wrapper in his hand. All this was for Snape's chocolate fix..Snape extended it to Harry who swallowed the laugh that was rebelliously creeping up his throat. The second that his fingertips grazed the silver wrapper he felt a familiar tugging in the pit of his stomach.
Harry realized with a jolt that the seemingly innocuous wrapper was actually a portkey that was currently pulling him and Snape off the sleepy street of Magnolia Crescent and bringing them to a sudden halt on a damp patch of grass on a hillside outside of a small town. Although there were still a few hours before the sun would rise there was no mistaking the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole laying below them. And, the light of the early morning was now sufficient; if Harry squinted, he could even make out the grey smudge east of the huddled houses and cottages of the village that was the Burrow. Suddenly, Harry felt a surge of gratitude go through him for Snape- actually, not quite.
In fact, Harry reminded himself to be angry with everyone for not coming to get him sooner, and for allowing Snape to be the one to show up in Harry's room in the dead of night. But the anger that Harry felt was a mere shadow of the anger he had experienced due to his isolation at Privet Drive, and despite himself, Harry was having one of the best mornings he had had in a really long time.
Harry moved to descend the hill, which he now knew to be Stoatshead, the same hill he had mounted with the Weasleys to attend the Quidditch World Cup, expecting Snape to leave murmuring something nefarious under his breath. In fact it looked as though Snape would like nothing more than to leave Harry here to trek to the Burrow himself. But Snape's arm struck out in front of him, banging hard against his chest as Harry attempted to move forward. Through some miracle, or great misfortune, Harry thought darkly, Snape was resolved to bring Harry right up to the Burrow's front step.
"Stay where you are Potter!" he murmured.
"But, Professor, I can make my way to the Weasly's by myself, there's really no…"
Harry was cut off by a large shushing sound and a scowl from his companion who stared at the horizon as though waiting for some signal.
"Silence!" Snape sprayed, continuing to stare out at the horizon. Harry, sighed exasperatingly. He was hot and tired from carrying his trunk and broomstick and Hedwig's cage, not to mention, his having been awake since about three that morning.
"If you don't think that I would rather be somewhere else right now, Potter, instead of at this little "play date" of yours then you are very much mistaken. As much as you like to think we mortals are here to be at your constant beck and call…I would be attending to much more important matters if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's insistence…", Snape continued, throwing Harry a scalding glare. Harry thought he saw some wildflowers nearby wilt, but maybe that had just been his imagination.
Harry continued to fume silently, absorbing the significance of Snape's last jibe that had mentioned Dumbledore. What had Ron said? Dumbledore is worried…Harry thought. I wonder what would worry such a powerful wizard as Dumbledore…Harry began, but then stopped short remembering the circumstances of his last meeting with Dumbledore and those few moments when he had suddenly appeared so old and almost fragile.
Harry didn't have anymore time to consider the matter, since Snape made a hurried motion for him to stand up and get his things ready, mumbling, "Any time now…" under his breath. Harry followed Snape's narrow eyed stare out onto the horizon where, suddenly, as if by magic, a small rainbow appeared. It probably is by magic. Harry reminded himself as Snape motioned, rather roughly, for Harry to move forward. This must have been the sign Snape was waiting for, Harry thought, awed by how much planning it must have involved in order to transfer him from Privet Drive to the Burrow.
Finally, as daylight began to streak overStoatshead hill Harry and his rather large-nosed escort descended into the town. They moved quietly in the early morning hours for fear of waking any of the townspeople who would be quite shocked to find a scowling figure in black and a young man with trunk and two owls in tow wandering the narrow grey streets.
Neither Harry nor Snape made any attempt at conversation throughout the journey from Stoatshead hill to the Burrow for which Harry was thankful. It was with a great sense of relief that Harry approached the garden gate of the Burrow, puffing heavily, his fringe plastered to his forehead.
As they entered into the Weasley's yard via the squeaky front gate (which Snape allowed to snap back painfully against Harry's shins) they were greeted by a shriek from the kitchen. Moments later a worried looking Mrs. Weasley ran out of the door enclosing Harry in a giant knitted jumper and floral apron hug and nodding rather resolutely at Snape who continued to sneer.
"Thank God you reached him..." was all she managed to say before Harry allowed her tosteer him into the house, leaving Snape in the garden with nothing but Mrs. Weasley's begonias to glare at.
Despite the early hour, Mrs. Weasly was already busy cooking in the kitchen, and without offering any further information as to his sudden arrival at the Burrow,she used her wand to guide Harry's things up the Burrow's narrow staircases and into his best friend Ron's room, where a few minutes later the famous Harry Potter could be found lying face down on the Chudely Cannons sheets of the top bunk of Ron Weasley's bed, drifting into a wonderful, dreamless, sleep.