Author: Magiquill9
Chapter 2: Ditching the DursleysShips: Harry and Ginny, Hermione and Ron, Bill and Fleur, and Lupin and Tonks.
Chapter Synopsis: Harry ponders his situation on his last day at Privet Drive, learns about the Dursleys some more, and has a Death Eater encounter.
Story Summary: HBP raised as many questions as it answered. How can Harry find a horcrux? How can he destroy the horcruxes? Everything was laid out, and we were about to jump off the cliff. Here's where the cliffhanger ends and the adventure begins. Join Harry and friends as they struggle to lead the wizarding world out of despair, fight the good fight, and put an end to the evil that is Tom Riddle.
Disclaimer: Hello everyone. Good to see you back. I hope chapter one cleared up a few questions you all had after HBP. It did leave a few questions up in the air. That should have settled a couple big ones. Now we are in Harry's POV and will more than likely be that way until the end. Here for your entertainment is chapter two: Ditching the Dursleys.
When you are waiting for something, it always seems to take longer than normal, and when you are dreading something, it always seem to rush up and take hold of you. For Harry Potter, he seemed to be in limbo: neither here nor there. He was a teenage boy of sixteen, waiting, like any other normal boy, for his birthday, which would be in just one more day. But he had mixed feelings. Both happy and sad, because once he turned 17, it was all over. Everything. He would be on the run. That was where he differed from other boys of his age, other normal boys, because, Harry Potter was a wizard, and 'a thumpin good one' too. He had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for six years, each year more adventurous than the last.
He was currently sitting on the steps to Number Four Privet Drive, willing time to act as he wished. Many thoughts were swirling through his head, and Harry now understood the words of his mentor and friend, the late Albus Dumbledore. 'Have you ever had too many thoughts in your head?' An interesting question, from an interesting man. Harry truly missed Professor Dumbledore. He had been forced to watch him die; something no one should be forced to see. Not only did he die, he was murdered in front of Harry's eyes, not too long ago. Feeling the monster roar up inside him, Harry was furious once more. Severus Snape, his hated ex-potions/Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had killed Dumbledore, just like that. Harry still could picture startlingly clearly the look of hatred and revulsion that had seemed to permanently grace the face of the murderer.
So many things had come to pass last year, Harry mused. He still held the image of the funeral in his head. When he had broken up with Ginny, told her it was for her own good. Being noble, something that Harry would always be no matter what was both blessing and curse. Harry then looked back on his two best friends, bushy-haired Hermione Granger and redhead Ron Weasley. He wondered if their relationship would change. He had thought they would get their act together and start dating, but that didn't happen. He supposed he would find out after his birthday, when they planned to have Bill, Ron's older brother, and Fleur Delacour's wedding. That would involve seeing Ginny again though. Harry didn't know if he was ready for that. Because he definitely still held feelings for her, and knew that if she kept feelings for him since before she knew him, that she still had them too.
But for now, he was in the eye of the storm. Once he turned seventeen, that was it. He would become of age, the protections that Dumbledore had painstakingly provided for him for the past sixteen years would vanish, and he would have to fulfill his destiny. He would avenge the death of his parents; defeat Lord Voldemort. Before, Voldemort had just seemed unreal, but Harry had seen him and fought him firsthand in his fourth year. Seeing him up close and personal did a lot to alleviate any fear he might have had bottled up inside. Once you fought the man, it was hard to be terrified of him. Of course, Harry had fought him again the following year. Not much of a fight, Harry thought grimly. He didn't even do anything, Voldemort just cast an Avada Kedavra at him, the killing curse, the same killing curse that had dispatched so many witches and wizards, the same killing curse that had failed the fateful night of Halloween at Godric's Hollow when Harry was just one, the same killing curse that had stripped Voldemort of his body, and the same killing curse that would later kill Albus Dumbledore. Harry always wondered what his life could be like if it were normal. He had had a couple of blissful weeks with Ginny, a small taste of what could have been. Harry wondered what he would have to do to defeat Voldemort. It wasn't because he had to, as Dumbledore had pointed out to him. It was because he, Harry, would not rest until Voldemort was killed, and the same went for Voldemort, which made it pretty clear that one of them would 'die at the hand of the other' as was fated to be. But, like Harry had decided before, there was a big difference, because Harry chose to go after Voldemort, and it made all the difference in the world.
And that was what brought him to now. He was trying to plan how to kill Tom Riddle, the infamous Dark Lord. He would have to find Tom's horcruxes. Dumbledore had said his soul was split into seven pieces, one of which resided in Riddle's body. The other six, Harry was currently looking at on his notebook paper. The diary, which Harry had destroyed in his second year after it had possessed Ginny, was one piece of his soul. The second piece, resided in Tom's grandfather's ring, an heirloom of Salazar Slytherin, on of the founders of Harry's school, Hogwarts. Dumbledore had destroyed that one after Harry's fifth year, at the cost of his right hand. Which left four. The locket that belonged to Slytherin, which had originally been in a cave Riddle had frequented, but was taken by the mysterious R.A.B. before Harry and Dumbledore arrived at the cave. Harry had no idea who R.A.B. was, where the locket could be, or even if it was still a horcrux. The next piece was in a cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, another founder. Harry had no idea where that could be. The next horcrux was supposed to be Nagini, Voldemort's pet snake, whom he had a strong connection with. Harry remembered the time he had dreamed of being in the snake while it attacked Mr. Weasley. Harry had watched Dumbledore fiddle with his many instruments to confirm his story.
With a start, Harry stood up, books falling off his lap and his chair falling down and hitting the floor. Harry understood what that instrument had been doing. It had split into two snakes. That must have meant that when Harry was there, two pieces of Voldemort's soul were there as well. One was Voldemort himself, which was how he had realized Harry was there. The other must have been Nagini. That confirmed it then.
Harry sat back down after picking up the overturned chair and returned to his musings. That left one horcrux, an item that belonged to either Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor, the two remaining founders that had yet to be covered. He figured it would be something of Ravenclaw's, but he didn't know. It was, after all, just a guess. Ron and Hermione had insisted on coming home with him, and the last couple weeks had been very eventful. They had left for now, back to Ron's house, to get some things. He had finally conceded to letting them come along, realizing there was no getting rid of either Ron or Hermione. They were with him all the way. He didn't know what he did to deserve friends like them.
Harry heard a sound, someone walking up the stairs, because he heard the step that he jumped out of habit begin to creak. He drew his wand and pointed it expectantly towards his door. When Harry's door opened, out popped Dudley Dursley, the fattest slob of a cousin anyone could ever ask for. His resemblance to a pig was striking, as Harry often thought. He looked very nervous, hopping from one foot to the other, wringing his hands fiercely, and keeping his butt firmly glued to the wall. His pudgy face darted across the room, and rested warily on the tip of Harry's wand. His appearance was comical, and Harry felt almost sorry for him. Almost. This was still the same boy that had made Harry's life a living nightmare for a decade. So Harry's pity only went so far.
"Well Dudders? Spit it out already?" Dudley looked very much like something was going to come out of his mouth, but it definitely didn't look like words.
"Mu-mum says you're to come down and eat, and that then you have to do your chores because you haven't done them and- DON'T POINT THAT AT ME!"
"You know Dudley, I really couldn't care less what Aunt Petunia says. So no, I don't think so. Why are you scared Dudley, a little magic never hurt anybody."
"Y-you di-di-didn't see what I did that night." Harry knew immediately that Dudley had been talking about the night the dementors attacked. Dementors, thought Harry, were scary creatures all right. Bad piece of business. They sucked out all the happiness out of a room. Made it very cold. And you would relive your worst nightmares. For Harry, that had been horrible. He had heard the night his parents had died to save him. In a kind of morbid fascination, Harry had listened, because it was the first time he could remember hearing his parents. Dudley had been with him one night, well not really with him, Harry had been taunting him, looking for someone to vent on back in his fifth year. However, they came upon a couple of dementors. Muggles like Dudley couldn't see dementors, so Dudley had no idea what was going on. Harry had fought them off, but Dudley had collapsed. Harry had always been curious as to what the pampered little bully Dudley saw from the dementors, and now he would find out.
"Alright then Dudley, what did you see?"
"It was ho-horrible. Saw myself grow a pig's tail again." Harry laughed at that. That had been Hagrid, the half-giant groundskeeper at Hogwarts on Harry's eleventh birthday when he rescued him from the Dursleys and Harry had discovered his identity. Hagrid had later tried to turn Dudley into a pig but only a tail was the difference.
"What else was there Duddykins?"
"I- I saw a, a letter."
"A letter Dudley? What's so scary about a letter?"
"It was a letter to that freak school of yours."
"What! You got a letter to Hogwarts?" But that was it, Dudley ran out of the room and would not listen to Harry's calls. How could Dudley possibly get accepted into Hogwarts? The closest thing he had to magic at all besides Harry was his mother, Harry's mother's sister. She was the sister of a muggleborn witch. And Dudley was her son. But could that make him a wizard? No, impossible. Dudley had to have been mistaken. There was no way Dudley could have gone to Hogwarts. Harry just couldn't believe it. Hogwarts was his. It was his home. Dudley couldn't ruin it for him. Harry went down stairs after locking his door, hopped the creaky step, and entered the kitchen.
"Harry, come here. You need to help cook this." Harry approached his Aunt, more out of curiosity then anything else. It was ironic that they tried to prevent Harry from doing magic and failed, and didn't prevent Dudley when he succeeded. Except obviously, Dudley had opted not to go, a reason Harry could understand because it was Dudley, but could not understand anyone else doing. Harry stared at his Aunt again. He began cooking bacon for the breakfast, his Aunt hovering over him, making sure he didn't mess up. She whispered into Harry's ear.
"After breakfast you are to do your chores. And then, we need to talk." Harry looked up from the bacon and stared questioningly at her. She could not meet his eyes, Harry's mother's eyes, and looked away. Out of shock, Harry had splattered himself with bacon grease and swore under his breath.
After he had finished breakfast, his Aunt quickly swept the food away before he could get anything else besides the meager portion he had been served. Harry went outside into the fresh air and began on his seemingly endless chores. The only thought in Harry's head that kept him sane was that fact that it was just for one more day. Tonight at midnight, that was it. Harry would be seventeen. He would be of age. He couldn't wait. Then, he would pursue 'that flighty temptress, adventure' as Dumbledore so aptly called it. He had a lot on his shoulders, more than anyone should probably have, but that was how it had always been. In a strange twist, the way the Dursleys had treated him had actually made it easier for Harry to accomplish what he had to do, kill Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure if he was capable of killing someone. But he knew for a fact Voldemort deserved it. And Severus Snape. Harry would never forgive him. First, for putting him through everything he had in the past six years, which included goading Sirius, because that made Sirius leave Grimmauld Place and eventually led him to his death, falling through the veil.
Harry had dreams of what lay beyond the veil. He used to sit awake at night and just stare at the ceiling, stare through the ceiling almost. He could picture the heavens above him, and he would dream of Sirius. He didn't dream as much of his parents because he hadn't really known them. After all, they had only had a year together. All he had seen was pictures, and an image of them in the Mirror of Erised, a magical mirror that revealed to you your heart's greatest desire. To Harry, when he had seen it in his first year, it had been something he had never had: a loving family. Harry had obtained that now though, through the Weasleys. Sirius had always been there for him too, but no longer. And Sirius was whom he thought about now. He pictured him just beyond the veil, calling Harry's name, whispering, just like the other voices he had heard beyond the veil. He could almost picture another world there, in that mysterious veil located in the heart of the Department of Mysteries where Harry and his friends had gone in his fifth year, trying to save Sirius but ended up getting him killed at the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had even tried to cast an unforgivable that day, a thought that sometimes haunted him, but he knew she deserved it, her and Snape, for killing Sirius and Dumbledore.
Harry would often dream of seeing Sirius again. It would get very detailed and vivid. Harry would be reunited with Sirius, and together they would go off on one adventure or another. Those had been nice dreams, depressing, but nice. Harry had finally shaken them off, because Dumbledore had said that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, another piece of advice Dumbledore had parted to Harry.
Harry looked around and noticed his feet had taken him to the park. He hadn't been paying attention; he had been lost in his own thoughts. He sat down in a swing, the lone swing that had survived the destruction of Dudley and his gang. Harry absentmindedly pushed off from the ground, and let himself move back and forth, rocking in the wind. He just stared at the sky, wondering what lay out there for him. Four horcruxes, they could be anywhere, and R.A.B. the mysterious horcrux hunter. Harry had a lot to think about. He just sat there for hours. Harry had completely lost track of time. He just stared forward, not really looking at anything, but looking at everything just the same. The wind picked up, moving Harry's hairaround a bit and his bangs were moved to reveal his scar, the scar that had started everything. His scar had always fascinated Harry. It was almost like it wasn't a part of him. He traced the faint lightning bolt shape and thought back on everything it symbolized: the first destruction of Voldemort, the love from his parents and their sacrifices to save him. It represented his fame and fortune, and most importantly his mission, because he had been 'marked by the Dark Lord as his equal.'
Harry thought he heard some leaves rustling and heard a twig snap faintly, but Harry was still too lost in his thoughts to notice or even care. He just reflected on how everyone he loved had died for him. That was why he had broken up with Ginny; he hadn't wanted her to meet the same fate. It really wasn't fair at all. But when had life ever been fair to Harry. When it finally gave him something, it always took something else away. The only things he was really truly grateful for were Hermione and the Weasleys. They were the only ones still with him. Harry shook himself. He didn't want to be depressed. Dumbledore wouldn't want him too. And besides, he was 'Dumbledore's man through and through' and he had a job to do. He couldn't be depressed. Everyone was counting on him. He was really all that stood between Voldemort and the world. The last ray of hope. The last glimmer of sunshine. The final candle that remained lit, prevailing over the darkness.
Harry looked up, and noticed that he was standing in the darkness. He looked around and started walking home, kicking an empty soda can along the street, with his hands in his pockets, just staring at the ground. He went to kick the can again and missed, so he stopped and kicked it. When he stopped, he saw a red beam of light fly past him, where he would have stood. Harry spun and ducked, watching a blue beam of light fly over him as well. He looked around, trying to find out who was after him. He saw a shadow to his left and fired a stunner. "Stupefy," Harry shouted. Harry watched in satisfaction as the man fell onto the floor with a thud. Harry began to walk towards the now stunned man, and leaned down to look at him. He was in a black cloak and had a hood.
"Worthless Death Eater," Harry muttered after kicking him. He got a good look at the man's face before snapping his wand. It was Avery.
Harry sighed and snapped the man's wand. He turned to head to Magnolia Crescent and his batty old neighbor Arabella Figg, a squib, whose fireplace he could use to alert someone of the death eater who attacked him. She would be of no use since she was a squib and was incapable of magic, but she at least had contact with the Wizarding World. Harry began to walk towards her house, leaving his back to the body, and never saw the spell that hit him on the side of the head. He fell onto the ground, petrified, frighteningly reminiscent of the last time he had seen Dumbledore die on the Astronomy tower.
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