Hi! Sorry the 'three years later' bit on the last chapter went a bit funny! I still keep making mistakes when putting up chapters :(

Please enjoy!

Walking Free

The Burrow

Harry sat. He sat and waited. Nothing. The wait was long. Long and cold. A harsh wind seemed to endlessly flow through his cell yet there were no doors or windows nearby.

Harry rolled the small, smooth pebble in his palm. Holding it up, he could see that it was almost perfectly round and was a pale, beige in colour. He wondered where the portkey would take him. Seeing as it was Draco Malfoy who had decided its destination, he supposed that it wouldn't be highly desirable.

'How long has it been?' he thought. He had spent too long just waiting. Waiting for his time to come. When death would finally reach out and grasp him, plucking him out of existence. 'Has it really been three years since I thrown in here? This hell hole? My own personal torture?' Harry let his head fall back against the stone wall. He hoped that this was not some trick. He desperately hoped that this was it. The real thing. His escape. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

He hoped to all the Gods above that Draco Malfoy, of all people, would pull through for him.

Harry thought back to what Draco had said to him earlier before he left.

'It will activate at 9pm.'

If only he knew the time. He didn't have anyway of telling the time from his cell. There was no window to see the sun by and he had no watch or clock. He just had to sit, and wait; like he always did.

He suddenly felt a tremble at his fingers. Without any further warning, he felt the uncomfortable pull from behind his navel that he hadn't experienced in so long.

Within moments he was gone. The writing and pictures on the walls were the only thing that showed that there had been any life in the cell for some time.

The ground beneath his feet was gone in a flash and his body was thrust forward. He barely has time to think before he was thrown back down.

Of all the places he could have picked, Draco Malfoy had chosen this. A field. Not just any field, no. A field full of marshes. Nice, big marshes at that.

Harry stood, thick mud dripping down his skin, and tried to climb up the wet grass. He slipped and fell on his chin. A loud groan was the only thing to be heard in the cool, summer night.

Finally managing to stand erect without falling over again, Harry surveyed the area. The wind wiped his face and hair as he searched the encompassing bogs for a way out. Sopping wet, after another tumble, Harry made his way across the soggy land towards what he hoped was civilisation.

As he walked on, Harry became conscious of his lack of warm clothing; the harsh breeze seemed to go straight through him, causing him to shiver. He hoped that he could find an empty house in which he would steal some clothes, money and food to keep him going. The matted shoes that he wore were soaking and the holes in the bottom did not help the painful sores that had already begun to form.

It wasn't long until Harry realised that he had passed the bogs and was now walking on hard, barren land. Whilst he was taking in the scenery, Harry began to recognise the area. The hill ahead seemed strangely familiar and Harry wondered if Malfoy would have been kind enough to send him to a place he had been to before.

Each breath Harry took became sharp in his chest as he made his way up the hill. The rabbit holes in the ground and the long grass made climbing harder and his numb feet made it difficult to stand. It was when he reached the top that Harry recognised it as Stoatshead Hill, the area where he had taken the Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup in the summer before his fourth year.

Catching his breath, Harry thought for a while. If he went in the right direction, he would be heading towards the village of Ottery St Catchpole, where the Weasley's lived. His heart jumped in his chest. What if he saw the Weasleys? How would they react? Did he even want to see them? He was still not sure if they were on his side, or whether they believe that he really had almost killed one of their own. Would they turn him in? What would he say if he did see them? There were too many questions he didn't know, or even want to answer right now. He was still tired and all too confused to think straight.

He just needed to take it a step at a time. He'd think about all that when the time came.

As Harry approached the house he saw lights in the kitchen and figures moving around. It must have been quite late as Harry had been walking for what felt like hours and the colour of the sky had deepened since he had landed in the marsh. He gingerly sat on the ground under a large tree a couple hundred metres from the house, noting that every bone in his body was aching and that his chest felt tight from an oncoming cold. It was freezing for a summers evening but the lights from the house gave Harry a warm feeling inside that he hadn't felt for years. He was free. After three, horrendous years, he was free. No more dementors or aurors watching his every move and no more waiting. With these happy thoughts, Harry fell into a peaceful sleep.

It took Harry a while for his eyes to adjust to the strong morning sun when he first woke. He stiffly stood up, stretching his legs and began to walk around the edge of the Burrow towards the small stream that passed through the property. From the position of the sun, Harry could tell that it was early and that none of the Weasleys would be awake yet. Under the cover of the trees, Harry climbed into the cold stream fully clothed, after placing the letter about his money on the bank to ensure it stayed dry. His body screamed in protest as his dirty skin met the flowing water but he was in desperate need of a shower and at the moment this was the best he was going to get.

Having successfully washed himself, Harry made his way back to the tree where he had slept the previous night. He was waiting for the members of the family to leave, allowing him to enter the house and find a way to get to London where he could access his vault in Gringotts. The nearest wizard house from here was miles and Harry didn't want to risk getting lost so he remained under the tree, watching the house.

After a while, when Harry was almost completely dry, he noticed an owl flying overhead towards the Burrow. Standing up to get a better look, he realised it was the owl that delivered the Daily Prophet to wizarding families. The brown bird landed on the open window allowing someone to take the paper and place five knuts into its pouch.

Ron yawned widely as he stumbled out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen where the smell of bacon drifted through the house. It was as he entered that kitchen that he noticed the Prophet owl approaching the house. He moved towards the open window where the bird had landed and took the paper. As he paid for the delivery, he looked out of the window and noticed a dark figure under a nearby tree. Thinking himself drowsy, Ron shook his head and turned from the window.

Upon opening the paper, Ron froze. His blood went cold as he took in the words in front of him.

'Oh, hello dear. Would you like some breakfast.' Ron heard his mother busy behind him, laying the table.

'He… he's gone.' Ron stuttered.

'What was that dear?' Mrs. Weasley seemed to have missed the shock in his voice, as she continued to juggle with the cutlery.

'Harry, he got out!'

The silence in the room was almost painful. Ron turned around to face his mother and realised that the whole family were now present. With shaking hands, he held up the paper to show his unbelieving family members the headline of the Daily Profit.

'Potter Escapes in the Dead of Night.'

On opening the door, Harry was greeted by the warn, familiar smell of the Burrow; the place he had once considered a second home. The house was eerily quiet, and Harry guessed that they had all gone to the Order meeting he had overheard the Weasley family discussing, when they believed to have been alone.

The smell of fresh cooking immediately hit Harry, and he was suddenly overcome with hunger. He reached out to a large plate covered with pancakes. He shoved one, two, then three into his mouth, one after another.

After only a few more bites, Harry realised that he couldn't eat anymore. The amount of food given in Azkaban was so poor that Harry found he could no longer consume the large quantities of food he used to when at the Weasley's.

He soon felt the need for a drink and quickly found a mug sitting on the draining board. Filling it with water, he downed it in one.

After quenching his thirst, Harry, although feeling rather out of place, took a look around the familiar house. Upon entering the sitting room Harry was alarmed at what he saw; a snowy white owl with large amber eyes, sitting at the open window, looking directly at him.

His breath caught in this throat and he felt relief flood through him.

'Hedwig?'

The bird, instantly recognising who he was, jumped up onto Harry's shoulder and began to gently peck his right ear in a friendly manner. Harry raised a hand and ran his slim fingers through the soft feathers he had missed so much.

Harry soon realised that if his bird was here, than the rest of his belongings might be too. He had always wondered had happened to Hedwig after he had been sent to Azkaban, and he had been worried for her. Now that he knew she had been staying with the Weasleys, he felt somewhat better.

With Hedwig firmly attached to his person, Harry slowly climbed the stairs. Overall the house hadn't changed since the last time he had been there. Some of the furniture had been changed but only slightly. There were pictures on the walls that Harry didn't remember seeing there before but apart from that, the house was how it always had been.

Harry stopped ascending the stairs in front of one of the moving photos on the wall. It was of the whole Weasley family, all grinning and laughing at the camera. The sequence of the photo started from the beginning and Harry watched intently.

Harry could clearly make out Bill and Charlie standing on the left, Ginny in between them. She was smiling so brightly, Harry almost felt as if she was in the room with him. Next to them were Fred and George, shoving each other around like the fools they were, while their mother turned and swatted then playfully before turning back to he husband with a heart warming smile. Mr. Weasley looked down at her and kissed her forehead, and then he waved at the camera. Harry's eyes drifted over the picture, past Percy, who stood firm, looking rather out of place among his jovial family, to three young teens with their arms around each other. Hermione and Ron were laughing and joking with each other, grinning widely. Harry's eyes then stopped at the last person in the photo. The boy stood, at the far right, a small sheepish smile on his face. It was himself. His dark hair fluttered in the summer breeze as he leant on his best friends shoulder. He looked so calm and happy, surrounded by the people who loved him as their own. How that had changed.

Before Harry had realised, the picture froze, and started once more.

I hope it wasn't too bad. Please review! They make me happy! :)

The next chapter should be up soon!