I Want to Go Home
Chapter Four: Escape Attempt
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own Harry Potter or "I Want to Go Home". Anything you recognize is not mine!
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, alert and favorite! You guys are awesome to the nth degree! Now with out further ado, read on!
Harry lay very still in under the soft eiderdown of his comforter a dark scowl that would have never graced his expressionless face in public twisting his lips. He'd spent another night tossing and turning, vague nightmares keeping him from falling properly and peacefully asleep.
He'd also spent a disgustingly productive night. His transfiguration homework was all complete and in an attempt to bore himself to sleep he'd read through no less than five chapters of his History of Magic textbook before switching to Potions. That had done the trick but he was jolted awake not three hours later and had been alternately dozing and glaring at the inside of the blue velvet hangings that shielded him from the rest of the world ever since.
He reached over to his pillow, grabbed his watch and pressed the button that backlit the display. The blinking block numbers read five twenty-seven for a brief moment before switching over to read five twenty-eight.
Harry's scowl darkened. He'd slept a grand total of four hours. His eyes felt crusted and tired and his head throbbed with muzzy pressure. He'd had enough.
He threw back the covers with an annoyed flick of his wrist and climbed out of bed, shinnying out of his pajamas carelessly leaving them to pool on the floor and grabbing the first set of clean clothing to hand, a pair of uniform trousers, a white button up shirt and the sweater his grandmother had knitted for him. He laced his trainers tighter than he normally would have, his hands and motions tight with irritability, and gathered up the few items he couldn't replace and shoved them into his book bag.
He took a sheet of paper from one of his spiral ringed notebooks and penned a short note explaining to his dorm mates that he'd gone home and not to worry and signed it with an elegant flourish. A murmured word and a wave of his wand affixed it to his bed hangings with a sticking charm. Harry stood back to admire his work for a moment and then with a satisfied nod he gathered up his book bag and left the dorm.
Penelope wasn't in the common room when Harry entered and the few studious upper year students that were paid him no mind, engrossed in their reading or asleep at their desks. He slipped out without incident and made his way along the now familiar route from the tower down to the Great Hall dodging down a different corridor and slipping out into the stone courtyard where he'd had lunch with the others just yesterday.
The morning air was chilly and the fog hanging in the pre-dawn haze made the grass slick with droplets of dew that soaked through the hems of his pants. Harry shivered a bit and pulled his wand out of his pocket to cast the warming charm Hermione had found for them in the Standard Book of Spells Grade One. Harry had thought it a simple enough charm to master but the others hadn't been able to manage it even after an afternoon and evening of practice.
Harry scowled darkly at the slender bit of wood and tucked it back away. It was the same with magic as it was with sports and school, he was talented, probably disgustingly so if the speed in which he mastered the warming charm and perfected the transfiguration of his matchstick into a needle was anything to go by. If he wanted to learn magic he could just as easily learn it through self-study at home as in Hogwarts, it was well past time he went home.
Harry set off across the rolling lawns of the Hogwarts grounds with a determined, purposeful stride, his face set in a brief expression of determination before he let it bleed from his face leaving it in its familiar blank mask. He'd plotted his route around the lake from the tower and he remembered the trek down to the boats from the train station well enough that he was supremely confident he could find his way. There was a pouch of wizarding gold at the bottom of his book bag, so after he'd made his way back to Hogsmeade station it was a simple matter of buying a ticket back to London and calling his parents to come pick him up from King's Cross.
His mother would be disappointed at first, of course, but this wasn't the first time one of her schemes to socialize him had come to a premature stop and she would get over it.
Harry slung the wide leather strap of his book bag crosswise over his chest and shoulder and broke into a light jog that lengthened by inches into the ground eating lope of a talented cross country runner.
"Ho there!" cried a familiar booming, good-natured voice.
Harry slowed, more than halfway around the lake, and sighed a bit. Hagrid, the giant of a man who'd led the first years across the lake and who was also the Hogwarts groundskeeper was waving at him with one of his impossibly large hands.
"Good morning," said Harry with a polite nod.
"Yer up a mite early there 'Arry," said Hagrid.
"Yes," agreed Harry with a nod.
"Out fer a bit o' walkin'?" Hagrid asked.
"You could say that."
A thought seemed to occur to Hagrid because suddenly he frowned and narrowed his beetle black eyes at Harry with obvious suspicion.
"Yer not tryin' ter run off again are yeh?"
"I am," said Harry without any apparent concern.
Hagrid seemed taken aback by Harry's bald-faced admission.
"Here now, yeh can't jus' run off without a word o' warnin'. Matter o' fact, yeh can't run off at all. S'not safe, yeh could get hurt or lost an' no one would know where yeh was," Hagrid admonished.
"I left a note," said Harry, a bit annoyed that the over-large man didn't think him sensible enough to at least inform someone of his whereabouts.
"Well, that's summat at least," said Hagrid taking him by the shoulder with one of his massive hands and turning him around and leading him back in the direction of Hogwarts, "Now then 'Arry, I know it's hard, bein' away from yer family an' all tha' but yeh've got ter give this place a chance."
"Do I?" said Harry mildly.
"Yeh feel tha' way now but yer jus' a bit homesick, s'all," he insisted, "Once yeh set yer mind to yer studies an' yer new friends yeh'll be alrigh'."
"That could very well be true," said Harry.
"Tell yeh what, you come by me hut on Friday after yer classes, we'll 'ave a spot o' tea, you can bring yer friends if yeh like."
"I'm sure they'd like that."
"Here now, we're in sight o' the castle now, best get a move on or yeh'll miss yer chance at breakfast."
Dutifully Harry trotted back across the lawn on the other side of the lake under Hagrid's watchful eye and re-entered through the courtyard door. He frowned thoughtfully once he was out from under the groundskeeper's gaze. He'd messed up, he could admit it. He'd acted rashly and hadn't taken the proper precautions to avoid capture and now he'd lost the element of surprise. It would be more difficult to escape now Harry was certain. Hagrid, he thought, seemed the sort of person who wouldn't want to get a supposedly homesick student in trouble and he doubted that the man would say anything to the staff but he would still be watching out for him now and Harry route to the train station at Hogsmeade took him right past his little cabin on the edge of the forest.
Harry sighed and re-traced his step back up to Ravenclaw tower. He'd been gone for a little over a half an hour and the tower was beginning to stir as student hauled themselves out of their beds and started making themselves ready for the day.
In his own dormitory the boys were still asleep and hadn't seen his note, which was a small relief because he would look quite foolish indeed if they had seen it. Resentfully he upended the contents of his book bag back into his trunk and replaced them with the books he needed for class. He then slipped into his grey sweater vest with its blue and bronze striped edging and went about the business of tying his tie. He then slipped his robes into his book bag as he'd seen some of the upper year students doing in between classes and checked his watch.
It wasn't even six thirty yet. None of the other Ravenclaw boys would thank him for waking them so once again Harry left the dormitory, this time with the intention of going down to breakfast and perhaps trying to make it through another chapter of his transfiguration textbook.
"Where were you this morning?" demanded Penelope without preamble as he entered the common room, she had fixed him with a stern glare her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot with annoyance or expectation, Harry couldn't tell which.
"At what time?"
"Don't try to beat around the bush with me Potter, Dave Hatton saw you come in a good twenty minutes ago. Where were you?"
"I was jogging," said Harry.
"Jogging," said Penelope, arching a skeptical brow.
"Jogging," Harry confirmed with a nod, "Around the lake. I met Hagrid on the grounds."
"Potter," she said warningly, "If you're lying to me, Morgana knows, you will not like the consequences."
"I don't lie," said Harry mildly.
Penelope gave him a sharp look and then harrumphed in reluctant satisfaction.
"Where are your robes?" she demanded a moment later.
"There in my bag."
"Why aren't they on your person Potter?" Penelope all but growled.
"I don't like them," Harry explained simply, "I'll put them on before I go to class. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to breakfast."
"Wait a minute I'm coming with you."
Penelope turned to gather her books together and slide them into her bag carefully, grunting at its weight as she slung it over one slender shoulder.
"I don't need an escort," said Harry as they left the common room.
"I beg to differ," snorted Penelope, "If I take my eyes off you for a second who knows what kind of mischief you and your little pack of friends will get up to."
They made the rest of the walk in silence and when they reached the Great Hall they settled into the same seats they'd occupied the previous day, opened their respective books and tucked into a breakfast of yogurt, fruit and toast with jam and butter on thickly sliced bread. Though the meal was delicious it was made somewhat less enjoyable by the weight of Penelope's stare.
"Harry!" called Hermione a short while later bouncing up to the Ravenclaw table with impunity, Terry and Neville trailing behind her.
Harry had the sinking feeling that this was the beginning of a ritual. At this rate his only solitude would come when he was tossing and turning in bed at night and in the wee hours of the morning when he was in the bathroom.
The bushy haired Gryffindor girl sat herself next to Harry, just as she had yesterday, and, just as they had yesterday, Terry and Neville took seats on Harry's other side.
"I am really going to have to speak to Percy about you three," said Penelope looking up from her book with a sigh, "This sort of intermingling between the houses at mealtimes simply isn't done," she said giving Terry and the slumped over Neville looks of rigid disapproval.
"Good morning to you too, Penelope. I hope you slept well."
"Hermione," greeted Penelope with somewhat less disapproval, "How were your classes yesterday?"
That was all the prompting Hermione needed to launch into a very long, very fast discourse about both what happened in class and her further studies based on what had happened in class. With Hermione so occupied, Terry turned to Harry with a grin.
"I can hardly believe she wasn't in Ravenclaw, I bet she bribed the hat or something," he said a bit of good-natured teasing coloring his voice, "And look at you already reading ahead."
"I found myself with some free time on my hands this morning. I didn't see how it could hurt."
"Too right, McGonagall's lessons are way over my head in some places."
"At least you understand some of it," grumbled Neville reaching for a piece of bacon, "I can't make heads or tails of my notes and you know she assigned me all that extra practice and I still haven't managed to turn my matchstick into anything even remotely resembling a needle."
"That's alright Nev," said Terry giving his shoulder a consolatory pat, "None of us managed the full transfiguration either."
"If you say so," said Neville a bit glumly, chewing systematically through his bacon.
"I do say so," Terry said in a tone that brooked no further argument.
Harry didn't think it would be prudent to correct Terry's assumption so he concentrated on his toast for a minute. The Ravenclaw table was filling up with students who shot the three Gryffindor first years odd looks and muttered to themselves but though Penelope grimaced she didn't shoo them away. She must have been enjoying the company despite herself Harry decided, noticing that though Penelope still had her book out she hadn't glanced down at it for several minutes and was in fact following their conversation with rapt attention.
"Hey Harry, why don't you drag those lazy bums you call dorm mates out of bed with you in the morning?" he asked a moment later.
"Yeah, it must be pretty boring with only you and Penelope," added Neville, clearly glad of the subject change.
"They like to sleep in," shrugged Harry, "Who can blame them?"
"I don't understand it at all," Hermione butted in, "There is so much to learn that I can hardly bear to sleep at all!"
"Not everyone is quite so…er—devoted as you though Hermione," said Terry reasonably.
"I know and it really is a pity," she sighed a little wistfully.
As much as Terry tried to help her bridge the gap and smooth the way for her interactions with the other students it seemed that Hermione was still very much aware that there was a gap. Harry could empathize but he said nothing more than: "It's past seven thirty. They should be down soon enough."
He took another slice of toast and busied himself slathering jam and butter over the surface. Terry shot him a look that Harry was careful to ignore and Hermione quickly changed the topic, brightening once more.
"Oh did you see the notice Harry?" she asked excitedly.
"Apparently not."
"Flying lessons start tomorrow!"
Harry froze at her declaration. It felt as though his throat had closed up on him and the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and he had to make an effort to swallow his last bite of toast.
"Really?" he said, and he was pleased to note that his voice was just as mild and unconcerned as ever.
"Yes, you're ever so lucky Harry, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have their lessons tomorrow in the morning—"
"We're with Slytherin on the Thursday after Herbology," Terry interjected a bit grimly.
"I'm a little bit nervous, of course, I mean I've never even considered flying on a broom before this, but it is a mandatory part of the curriculum. In any case, I've been to the library just this morning and I picked up an excellent book called Quidditch Through the Ages so I'm certain I'll have no problems."
"That's where you were this morning, the library!" exclaimed Neville, almost choking on his pumpkin juice.
"Of course," said Hermione archly, "Where else would I be?"
"Jogging, perhaps?" suggested Penelope.
Hermione grimaced a bit.
"Jogging isn't really my area, actually sports in general aren't really my area but I have a feeling that flying will be different, after all you don't really have to play quidditch if you just want to fly," she said.
"Of course not," agreed Penelope, "A leisurely flight around the grounds is a perfectly acceptable way to make use of your lessons."
Harry tamped down on a shudder. It wasn't necessarily the flying part of the whole thing that was bothering him, in fact, that bit sounded almost nice, but he wasn't at all keen on the idea that there would be nothing keeping him from plummeting to the ground but a glorified stick. He would have to refuse to participate, it would upset the professors and cause a fuss but there was no way in hell they were getting him on a broomstick without a fight.
"Speaking of leisurely, where are Kevin, Michael, Stephan and Anthony? If they don't get down here soon they won't be able to have breakfast," said Hermione with a frown.
"There they are," said Neville as the rest of the first year Ravenclaw boys hurried over to the table.
"Is there bacon left?" demanded Michael without preamble.
"Saved you some," said Terry sliding his plate over to his friend with a grin.
"You are a god," Michael declared tucking in with gusto.
Kevin, Stephan and Anthony settled on Penelope's side of the table and helped themselves to the nearest dishes, scarfing back their breakfast with only a passing regard for table manners.
"That is repulsive," said Hermione wrinkling her nose as Kevin hunched over his plate and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth at top speed.
"No time to eat properly," said Anthony shoving a folded piece of toast with marmalade into his mouth all in one go.
"Still," said Penelope leaning away from the blond.
The four Ravenclaws managed to get enough food in them to keep them from starving until lunch and they bid goodbye to the Gryffindor trio and Penelope as they made their way down to the greenhouses for Herbology.
They were a bit later than they had been the day before and as a result, Harry noted, Malfoy looked more than a bit put out. Clearly he'd looked forward to the opportunity to try and one-up Harry and was not happy that his plans, whatever they happened to be, had been spoiled. Harry took a certain amount of pleasure from that observation. It was good to know that someone other than him was having a frustrating morning.
Professor Sprout had them taking long notes about the ways to recognize dormant magical species from their muggle counterparts and then had them go around to different flower beds in small groups and try to identify which flowers were magical and which ones weren't. Even with the notes in front of them the first years found this difficult as most of them simply had no real experience dealing directly with plants.
Harry, however, had spent a great many hours weeding his mother's garden for his transgressions and was able to help walk his group members through the classification of the plants and earn them five points for Ravenclaw for being the first team to finish and another five points for having a perfect set of classifications.
Kevin was still crowing about it excitedly when they met up with Hermione, Neville and Terry in front of History of Magic.
"—you should have seen the sour look on Malfoy's face, it was brilliant!"
"Do you like plants Harry?" asked Neville as they took their seats.
"Well enough I suppose," shrugged Harry, eying his notebook contemplatively and wondering if he could charm the think to take dictation somehow and just sleep through class.
"I have a greenhouse at home that my gran lets me muck around with," said Neville, "It's only been three days and I miss it already. Do you think Professor Sprout would let me help out after classes and such? Three hours a week in Herbology hardly seems like any time at all."
"Don't see why not," shrugged Stephen not even bothering with parchment or a quill, "She should be glad of the help, cause I don't expect many people are lining up to get mocked by a bunch of posies while they spread manure on the beds and pull out the same upstart weeds every other day."
"You should ask her tonight after dinner," suggested Anthony.
"I agree, I think it's a great idea, just remember to hose yourself off before trekking dirt and manure all through the dorm," added Terry.
"I was wondering if we should get involved in clubs and things," said Hermione, "I've been looking through the club registry and there aren't that many really, it seems that most of the school spirit is generated through quidditch."
"It's really too bad first years can't try out for the teams," sighed Stephan pillowing his head on his arms.
Kevin was mirroring the action next to him.
"What are you two doing?" hissed Hermione scandalized as she brought out her notes from the day before and neatly dated and titled a new sheet of parchment.
"Sleeping," said Kevin as Binns began his lecture in the same dull droning voice as yesterday, a few of the Ravenclaw girls and Hermione were the only ones who looked as though they were going to even bother trying to take notes, everyone else was just falling into a stupor, or like Kevin and Stephan going straight to sleep.
"You can't sleep through class!"
"Watch me."
Hermione scowled, but with a sniff turned to her notes, not wanting to miss anything.
Harry held out for a good twenty minutes taking sporadic notes, his usually impeccable handwriting devolving into an illegible scrawl and then finally two sleepless nights caught up to him and he fell asleep.
It seemed like only moments later that he was being prodded awake and he let out an uncharacteristic groan of protest, batting vaguely at the hand poking at him.
"Come on Harry, we're going to be late for defense," insisted a voice.
Harry blinked his eyes open blearily and saw that the classroom had already emptied except for his dorm mates, Anthony was poking his ribs and Harry squirmed away shooting the blond boy a glare as a brief flicker of annoyance crossed his features before he could school them into their customary blankness.
Still Anthony and Michael behind him caught a glimpse of his expressions and exchanged a surprised look.
Annoyed with himself at his lack of self-control and at the whole situation for making him sleep deprived in the first place Harry gathered up his things and swept out of the history classroom without a word.
"Well then, someone's cranky in the mornings isn't he," snorted Stephan as the four other boys hurried to catch up.
"What do you reckon defense is going to be like?" asked Kevin.
"As long as it's more interesting than History I don't particularly care," said Michael rolling his shoulders to work out some of the kinks that came with sleeping on a desk.
"The subject itself is interesting, but I don't think Quirrell is going to do it justice," said Stephan with a sigh, "The upper years say that he's useless."
"Maybe we should take a leaf out of Hermione's book and get started on the self-study if half the teachers at this school are going to be useless, yeah?" suggested Kevin.
"We should at least give the poor man a chance," said Anthony, "Maybe it won't be that bad."
"I have faith," said Harry.
As some of the last people into the defense classroom the five Ravenclaws were forced to take their seats near the front of the room and they quickly realized that Harry was correct in his assessment.
Quirrell was a tall and young and he might have been handsome if he wasn't so very pale and thin. He had a terrible stutter and trembled like a leaf in a high breeze as he faced his students like he expected them to jump up and eat him.
"G-g-good m-morning class, I am P-p-professor Quirrell. W-w-w-welcome to D-d-defense Against the D-d-d-dark Arts."
Much like in Harry's primary schools Quirrell followed a long and torturous roll call with a bit of an introduction about himself and his qualifications. He explained to the class that he'd received his turban from an African prince after ridding his village of a troublesome zombie.
"Just the one zombie?" asked Harry, raising his hand politely, he was under the impression after all that zombies tended to move in groups, anything from packs to hordes and that where there was one a great deal more were often waiting in the wings to eat your flesh.
"W-w-well y-y-yes," answered Quirrell seemingly taken aback by the question.
"Oh, I see."
"How did you defeat it Professor?" asked Kevin eagerly, "Did you use magic or did you have to fight it off?"
"I-I-I…t-t-that is to s-say, I r-really d-d-don't think it's ap-p-p-propriate…"
That evasion set the Slytherins to sneering and confirmed everyone's suspicions that Quirrell was going to be absolute rubbish as a teacher.
Seeming to understand that he'd blundered, Quirrell quickly tapped his wand to the board and set them to copying notes on the areas of the world most affected by the dark arts. The classroom was dark and stuffy and reeked of garlic and rot and by the end of the lesson Harry's head was throbbing abominably and he was more resolved than ever to escape Hogwarts.
Malfoy tried to corner him again after class but the crowds in the corridors were too thick and Harry was able to slip down to lunch unmolested after which he, Stephan, Kevin, Michael and Anthony slipped out into the courtyard to eat with the trio from Gryffindor.
He would go tomorrow morning, he decided, biting into his ham and cheese sandwich while the rest of his group chattered away about lessons around a cheery little jar of bluebell flames Hermione had conjured to keep them warm.
AN: Hey guys, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter!
I just wanted to take a moment to say thanks to the wonderful Anrheithwyr. As you may or may not remember this story was written for her What if? Competition on HPCF and it won Best Multi-Chap after the judging took place on May 2nd. Without her wonderful competition I can safely say this story would not be what it is today.
Now that you've come to the end of the story please feel free to direct your attention to the review box below! See you on the next go around!