Chapter Four:
Harry kept walking to the end of the street. Then he pulled off his ruined glasses and slipped them inside his pocket also. He touched it to his wand and pulled them out brand new. He needed time to think, he decided, so he headed to the field near the towns local church. Within ten minutes he was there. He looked around the empty parking lot of the church. Someone had recently mowed the field. A willow tree stood smack in the middle of it, and Harry wandered over to it and slumped down beside it.
He gave a great sigh. He needed to figure things out. He was going crazy in the Durlsey's and he knew it. Hermione has sent him countless letters, all wanting to know when the three of them would start their journey to destroy the Horcruxes. It was been announced in the Daily Prophet a few weeks ago that Hogwarts would not be re-opening. She'd written that Ron had also sent her a hate letter, but had not described it well. When Harry got his own, he realized they must have been similar. His mind strayed to Ron for a while… why had he suddenly turned away from his two best friends like that?
He would write to Hermione when he got back home. In a few days it would be his seventeenth birthday and he would no longer be guarded by his mother's love at the Dursley's. That's when they would start their journey. And Aunt Petunia- a robber? What was that all about? Ah, well, he always knew she was weird. Harry wouldn't mention anything to his uncle, he was through with the Durley's- let them be. These last few days would be the last he'd spend with them probably for the rest of his life.
After all that thinking, Harry felt relieved- he should come up here more often. Nut now he was back to his angsty self. All the way home, he kicked trees, threw rocks, spit at dogs that came up to him. He just supposed he was experiencing such anger because he had experienced much death. It was normal, right? The Dursley's weren't home when Harry got there. Probably at the hospital, Harry though, a grin sliding into place on his face. He went to his room and wrote to Hermione, explaining his decisions. He sent Hedwig off and began to pack. And all through his packing, that strange laugh kept creeping up out of Harry. That strange, cold, cruel new laugh of his.