The magical world had gone to shit. Harry knew it. The magicals knew it. Hell, even the Dursleys knew it! Which was why, as soon as Harry turned 17, he turned his back. Turned his back on the world that betrayed him and abused him. The world that was tearing itself apart and forcing him to play along. But he wasn't going to do that. Not anymore. He was going to leave, and he was going to never look back.
"Are you going now?" Dudley asked with a frown, and Harry nodded.
"I might as well. Don't want to overstay my welcome," he nodded to his door, past Dudley and in the vague direction of the stairs.
Dudley nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Where will you be going?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair, chucking a roughly folded t-shirt into his bag, "America."
"America? Damn, Harry. Can I go with you?" Dudley laughed, and Harry let out a bemused chuckle. He still couldn't get used to his cousin's new friendliness. The boy had bullied him all of his life, but now he was acting as though they had always been friends.
He put on a smile, "I would, but I don't think Petunia would like the idea of me kidnapping her son."
Dudley laughed again, and Harry zipped up his bag, preparing to heave it onto his shoulder. "Give it here, I'll help," offered Dudley, and Harry stared at him, surprised, hesitantly handing the bag over.
The blond took it and easily shrugged it onto his shoulder as Harry watched. The smaller boy grabbed his not as heavy backpack and followed him down the hall and the stairs.
"You gonna say bye to them?" Dudley asked.
Harry glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Behind the door Harry could hear Petunia and Vernon talking. He shook his head. "Nah." He looked back to Dudley with a semi-forced smile, holding out his hand, "Will say bye to you though, big guy."
Dudley took Harry's dark, skinny hand in his own meaty, pale one. "You have my number, right?"
Harry nodded. One of the first things he had done since leaving the magical world was go shopping, and one thing he was excited about getting his hands on was a phone. An expensive one too, just because he could. The translation of galleons into pounds meant that he was easily one of the richest people in England, just from his trust vault alone. If he was to add his family vault into the equation, well, Harry was finally happy with spending money without worrying he would ever run out.
Dudley smiled at him, and pulled Harry into an awkward hug before releasing him and handing him his duffel bag. "Don't forget to call me. Stay safe, Harry."
Harry smiled tentatively back, "You too, Dud." He pulled open the front door and stepped outside, shutting it behind him. His surroundings were unfamiliar to him on the most part. He wasn't on Privet Drive. The Dursley's had been moved to safety in a small town in Wales that he couldn't for the life of him pronounce the name of. He did know, however, there was a tucked away alley down the street that he could disapparate away from.
"Keep them safe, Kingsleigh," he spoke quietly. "And please don't try find me once I'm gone. Tell the others I'm sorry."
There was no answer, but Harry took that as a good sign that the auror wasn't going to stop him from leaving. Kingsleigh was the only one who knew he was leaving. He had initially pushed back at him, but accepted easily enough. He was the one to take Harry to the Dursley's new home, and Harry was thankful for him. The man's moral code was strong, and he knew the man didn't like the idea of a 17 year old being led to die in a war he wanted no part in. So Harry walked away from the house and down the street, away from the Dursleys, away from Kingsleigh, and away from his past.
Harry apparated directly onto the front steps of Gringotts bank, hurrying inside quickly. The mid afternoon meant that usually there were lots of people around, but with it being a time of war that was not the case anymore. Regardless Harry could not take the risk of being seen and hurried inside the bank. There was thankfully no-one inside the bank other than the goblins, so Harry relaxed as he walked up to one of the tellers and asked for Griphook. Said goblin emerged almost immediately, calling after the boy to follow him into an office nearby.
"Mr Potter," Griphook greeted pleasantly, for a goblin.
"Good morning Griphook," Harry smiled at him, cautious not to bare his teeth.
"I take it you are ready for your departure?"
Harry nodded.
"Very well." Griphook stepped over to a cabinet along the back wall and rummaged through it a moment, pulling out a large folder. He handed it to Harry. "Passport, visa, birth certificate, academic necessities, and a bank card linked to a sister muggle branch," Griphook listed off, and Harry flicked through the folder to find everything there. He smiled again at the goblin.
"Thank you, Griphook."
Griphook nodded once and pulled out a new item from the cabinet. It was a silver card, no bigger than a five pound note, and inscribed on it was Harry's name, '02:43 pm', and 'Ohio International Portkey'.
"This will be leaving in 30 minutes," said Griphook, handing it to Harry.
Accepting it and putting it in his pocket, Harry took this as his moment to leave. "Thank you again, Griphook. May your vaults be ever filled."
Griphook presented a rare smile and nodded to the young wizard, "And may your axes never dull," he replied. "If you have need of Gringotts again, do not hesitate to ask."
Harry left the office and exited the bank, pulling his jacket's hood over his head and trying to look inconspicuous. He quickly disapparated, stumbling out of an alley in London. He checked his watch. 14:15. He had 28 minutes. Stepping out of the alley, he crossed the street and entered the bustle of muggle London. He searched around and decided to enter a small coffee shop to pass the time.
He left with a minute to spare, quickly slipping down another alley and disappearing with a nauseating pull at his navel. The sensation last almost twice as long as regular portkeys, and when Harry finally landed he stumbled and clutched his stomach. A bucket was shoved into his hands, but Harry managed to quell the desire to throw up and stood straight. The woman who had handed him the bucket was tall, and had a stern but handsome face.
"Thanks," Harry said, handing her back the bucket. She just nodded and took it, looking thankful he hadn't needed to use it.
"Step through the door please. A liason is waiting," she recited as though she had said it a million times before.
Harry followed the directions and was greeted by another woman. This one was short and plump, with cold eyes. She held her hand out at him.
"Portkey please," she demanded. Harry fished said item from his pocket and gave it to her. She looked at it, then back at him.
"Potter, huh? Wand please."
Harry anxiously handed her his wand and watched as she cast a spell over it before looking at a scroll that had just appeared.
"Accepted. This way, Mr Potter," the woman handed him his wand back and led him away into a large hall filled with people and tables. The woman guided him to an empty table and directed for him to set down his bags. She waved her wand over them and received another scroll. Looking over it she nodded again, "All good here. If you head over that way you'll exit into the no-mag world," she pointed to a door across the room where a small crowd of people were exiting. "And over that way is the magical world." She jabbed her finger in the opposite direction to another door where there was a larger crowd.
Harry nodded, taking his bags back and headed towards the smaller crowd. The door led into a strange grey corridor. Harry glanced back and the doorway no longer revealed a large room but an airplane's interior. He followed the crowd and into a large room with strange conveyor belts that went round in circles, carrying suitcases. Harry stared at them a moment in intrigue, but then continued onwards, this time following a sign that read 'exit.'
Harry stepped out of the room and down a large corridor that opened up into an even larger room than before. It was tall, with huge windows along one wall that looked out onto a sunny day.
Not too far away there was a small group of people holding up signs. Harry neared them and spotted his name, or rather his new name, written crudely on a sign held by a large, burly woman who could put Dudley to shame.
'Harry Evans' the sign read.