Silence. It had become one of the most common things of the time. The world had changed in a matter of weeks, and nothing was good. Everyone was afraid, and they had one hope, Harry Potter. The only problem with Harry was that twelve minutes ago, he became a legal wizard.
It was obvious that a war was being fought. London had been burnt to a crisp, and not a single building was left standing. Paris had riots. Washington, D.C. had become a place where no one spoke as eloquently as they used to. Politicians failed to debate, it was a hostile takeover. The problem had become what people thought would be an apocalypse. The end of the world, and the only person who could stop it sat in a bed surrounded by books.
"No! That can't be it! That's too simple, how did we make that mistake?" Harry's voice broke the silence that had engulfed the world that black night. His eyes reread the page of Tout Monde several times. He knew what he had to do, but he could not do it now for he was alone. Not because no physical person was there at this exact moment in time, but because he had no one to trust. He had to go to Godric's Hallow. The last place that his parents had been before they died.
Harry threw the book into his trunk, and knew that before the Dursley's woke up, he would be gone.
"Harry wake up! You wretched boy, you are to get out of this house this instant! You were told that you had to stay here until you were seventeen, we have treated you horribly so that when this day came, you would want to be anywhere but here. Open this door and get out of my house!" Mr. Dursley called through the former door of his former house guest nephew. He twisted the knob without further adieu, and found the room without his guest, and a simple scribbled note on the floor. He read it, and a power came over him, he knew that the wruter had been right. Mr. Dursley put the note from his nephew in the desk of the room, and for the first time, he smiled for having Harry Potter in his house.
With a small pop, Harry found himself in the attic of his best friend's house. Sitting in the bed that had been prepared for him, as he slowly took everything he had packed in his trunk out, and sat on the bed. No one knew of his arrival yet. Looking up at the Chudley Cannon posters around his best friend's room, he just stared. Nothing in particular peeked his interest. It was a mix of everything. He kept replaying the moment when everyone around him started to die, first his parents, then his godfather, the latest his mentor Dumbledore, and for what? To save him? What was so special about Harry Potter? It could have easily been anyone else, but it was him.