Chapter Fifteen: A Different Home

"Where are we going, Sirius?"

"You'll see, c'mon, keep up! It's not long."

Sirius Black's devilish smile had barely left his face since the trial. Freed from the confines of Grimmauld Place, he was nothing short of a force of nature. He'd spent days diving into Muggle London, according to Lupin he might not return for days on end. Weeks became a month and Harry's godfather never once slowed down.

They didn't talk about the trial. Sirius had only said his thanks once, right after he'd heard the verdict and they had all emptied out into the hallway. Press were taking photos, bulbs bloomed and questions were shouted, but all Sirius had done was pull Harry into a hug that Harry could only describe as bone-crushing. They'd clung to each other, the centre of their own relief. After his muttered thanks, he'd said five words that had stuck with Harry ever since.

Your parents would be proud.

Then they'd returned to Grimmauld Place, with special dispensation from the Headmaster, and the ensuing party had been bombastic, to say the least. Even Kreacher was summoned to dance, which the House Elf did not enjoy.

All of this meant that when Harry had been asked to meet his godfather in a random forest, he wasn't surprised. If anything it was normal.

They had been walking for what felt like hours. Buds threatened to bloom on the end of hopeful shoots, leaves fresh and growing pulled their walk from the stems of trees. Mud squelched beneath their feet, thanks to the near-constant showers, Sirius happily strode ahead ignoring the muck he was smearing up his dark boots.

"I used to come here with your dad," Sirius explained. "After so long with Remus, we got used to being outdoors. So, usually, when your mum was sick to death of him bouncing 'round the house, we'd come out here. Camping, a few drinks, old stories. 'Course, I had plenty of new ones."

He let out a barklike laugh. "In those days I had a flat in London, but I always came back here when I needed a break. Anyway, it's not far now."

They walked for a few more minutes, climbing a hill so that they were above the original treeline and when Harry thought they were never going to stop, Sirius took them off the main path and out onto the edge of the forest.

"So, what do you think?"

"Of what?" Harry asked, trying to ignore how much his voice came out like a pant.

"I thought, that is, if you want to - I thought you might like to see the view from our new home." Harry stared. Whenever he'd thought about moving in with Sirius, it had been to Grimmauld Place. He'd never really considered the idea of them being anywhere else.

"What do you think?"

"It's perfect," Harry breathed. Seemingly tiny houses were dotted across rolling fields and to the left, a cluster of homes and buildings made up a tiny village. It was so far removed from the noise of London or the curtain-twitching of Privet Drive, it was even somehow more beautiful than the Highlands of Hogwarts. Above them, Harry could hear birds calling and the erratic movement of animals scrabbling around in the trees.

"You're sure?" Sirius asked, a little nervously. "Because you can say no."

"Honestly, Sirius, it's great. Aren't you gonna feel a bit, you know…"

"Isolated?" Sirius grinned. "You're thinking like a muggle. I can just apparate to London or Birmingham, Manchester, wherever I like. There's a spot in Glasgow actually, wonder if it's still there."

"Well, now you get to find out." Then his brain realised what Sirius had just said. "Hang on, you mean we didn't have to walk up -"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fun? It was miles!"

"I thought you liked walking."

"To escape the Dursleys."

"Well, that won't be a problem anymore."

"Guess not." It felt strange, to say it out loud. He'd always dreamt of leaving Privet Drive, but now he actually could he wondered when he was going to wake up, when the door to his cupboard would open and Aunt Petunia would scream at him for something stupid like bacon.

"I talked to Dumbledore. First thing I did after they cleared me. We'll have to talk to the muggles, get stuff signed, they'll need to move obviously."

"Why?"

"Voldemort knows where they live, if you're not there he can get to them. That's why you always got sent their every year." Harry frowned. "Yeah Dumbledore only just told me. You're safe there because of your aunt. That cousin too. It's Lily's blood. It protects you, but the magic, it needs replenishing I guess. Like, erm, one of those muggle things. Batteries?"

"I'm a charger?"

"Sure." Sirius waved a hand. "If you leave, they're fair game. Don't worry, we'll sort it."

The conversation meandered back to the house and Sirius' plans, which were as extensive as they were ambitious, but according to his godfather, the whole thing would only take a few days once Mr Weasley helped them with the right muggle paperwork. It all seemed too perfect, but as the days went by the idea became real. Solid.

The only problem was his Aunt and Uncle.

"They'll understand."

"Hermione, they put bars on his windows."

"But it's their lives, Ron."

"Ron's right," Harry conceded. They were curled up in front of the fire in Gryffindor Tower on one of the rare nights that Hermione's prefect duties hadn't clashed with Quidditch practice. It wasn't the first time Harry had realised how little time they actually had, with O. looming and the Quidditch Cup still to play for, not to mention Daphne and the Defence Club, they'd barely spoken outside of the library in weeks. "They're not gonna go for it."

"Dumbledore will talk to them," Hermione said with all the conviction that she usually saved for homework.

"He's not Merlin," Ron pointed out. "There's only so much the bloke can do."

"When are they talking to them?"

"I'm doing it," Harry said. "Sirius'll be there, but I want to." The helplessness he'd felt in the Ministry was not something he ever wanted to let in again. "I have to. The paperwork's sorted, Dumbledore's said he'll move them. We're going tomorrow."

"Rather you than me, mate," Ron said grimly.

"But it'll be worth it," Hermione persisted, ever the force for unbridled optimism. "To move in with Sirius."

"Yeah. It's weird. I never really thought it'd happen, y'know?"

"You deserve it, Harry. Really."

"'Bout time you got some luck," Ron echoed, with a lopsided grin. "And Sirius. I've never seen him so happy. Mind you, I wouldn't fancy living with Kreacher."

Behind him, a few third-year boys began making their way to the dormitories. Yet, they were just openly talking about Sirius. They actually say his name like it was normal. Sure, there'd been a lot of staring in the halls and whispered stories, but when weren't there?

Harry barely slept that night, seized by images of Uncle Vernon's predictable explosion of rage or Aunt Petunia's dismissive glower. He may not like them, but he didn't want them to die. If they stayed, that was the only option, but getting them to go anywhere else seemed impossible. They'd never spoken about moving, even for schools for Dudley. But how much of that was the wards?

As usual, Daphne noticed within seconds of him sitting down at breakfast. He saw the flicker of concern, the small nod, even the way her eyes shot to him as Astoria likely tried to mine as much information about the trial as possible from her sister.

"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked as he sat down. The hall was quiet, Daphne and he tried to rise early so they could get some time alone around the lake. A hangover from fourth year, but one they'd clung to. It had surprised him to learn that Daphne hated mornings, yet made their would-be dates around the lake before the Yule Ball that little bit sweeter somehow.

"Just tired."

"Sorry. I can leave you alone, if you want?"

"No, it's fine, Neville." He tossed his toast down onto his plate, there was no point even trying to eat it. His stomach felt like a dragon was coiling around inside him. "How are you, anyway? Alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Great, actually!" It still confused Harry how this Neville had been inside the round-faced hapless boy he'd first met. "I'm glad I caught you actually. I wanted to ask you something. It's about -" he stopped to see if anyone was listening and then lowered his voice so it was barely above a whisper. "Hermione."

Not what he'd been expecting. "Er, okay."

"I was thinking of maybe seeing if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade. I just wanted to get your advice."

"Like what to say?" All thought of Privet Drive had vanished from his mind as he almost goggled at Neville. The round-faced boy shook his head.

"If you think it's a good idea? I know she was, I mean, her and Ron -"

"That's not a thing," Harry said quickly, both for his own sake and Neville's. "It was, but it didn't work. If you want to, go for it, mate."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

Until ten seconds ago, Harry hadn't even thought Hermione and Neville could even be anything. He knew they were prefects, sure, but she'd really spoken about him. But then, why would she when Ron would just tease her anyway? More than ever he regretted just how busy things had been after Christmas.

"Er. I, erm, well."

Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Daphne and then almost a split second later Astoria, who promptly stole Harry's toast and grinned at him. It always baffled him how the two sisters could be so different. Daphne often said her sister was just naively confident.

"Let me guess, Granger?" Daphne asked, sitting beside Harry and looking across at Neville.

"How do you still call her Granger?" Astoria asked interestedly from Harry's other shoulder, toast halfway to her mouth. "Haven't you been friends for like a year?"

"Shut up. Eat your toast."

"It's Harry's."

Daphne sighed before turning back to Neville. "Longbottom. Granger. Romantic intentions, yes, no?" Neville nodded, taken aback by the sheer bluntness of Daphne after the utter lack of finesse from Harry. "Well, she clearly enjoys your company or she would ask to regularly switch rounds with Zabini. She appreciates consideration, thoughtfulness and, this won't surprise you, intelligence. All of which you have."

"I do?"

Daphne, who had little patience at the best of times, sighed.

"Obviously. Anyway, even if she doesn't like you, it's Granger. She'll be nice about it." Harry nodded at this, Hermione was a lot of things but unkind wasn't one of them. "Then, you can do whatever boys do when they're sad."

"Quidditch," Astoria suggested helpfully.

"Herbology," Harry corrected.

"Ugh, like dad. So weird. What is it with boys and plants that want to eat them?" Astoria seemed genuinely disgusted and so settled herself with a bite of toast. "Or you could just do what Trace told Daph to do and go over there and snog her when she's flapping."

Harry, who had never heard this, couldn't help but smirk at Daphne. "Not a word."

"She was a mess, Harry, you should've seen it. Trace says she had steal her homework so she'd -"

"We're talking about Longbottom and Granger," Daphne interrupted.

"You might be, I'm trying to tell Harry how you fancied him for ages."

"Ages?" Harry asked, enjoying the look of exasperation on Daphne's face. He knew she'd liked him for a while, but it was nevertheless fun to tease the girl who loved to be in control about the one time she wasn't.

"Don't you have your own friends?"

"It's more fun annoying you," Astoria grinned. "For what it's worth Longbottom, you should go for it. Parvati Patil reckons she's been eyeing you up in Transfiguration and Brown keeps saying how she won't stop smiling after rounds. Oh and Weasley -"

"Ron?" Neville and Harry asked together.

"No, Ginny. Keep up. She told Luna, who I'm pretty sure she hoped would tell me, so I'd tell Daph, and then it'd get back to you, that Hermione won't shut up about you, so I think you're good." Stunned silence met her words. "What, people talk to me?"

"Er, okay, okay then." Neville swallowed, tried to smile but it instead came out as a grimace. "I'll see you later, Harry. And thanks."

They bade him a mixture of farewells and Astoria, grinning like a cheshire cat, moved over to the Ravenclaw table to sit with the newly arrived Luna Lovegood.

"How're you feeling?"

"No idea," Harry admitted as Daphne helped herself to some food from the table. It was a sign of how far the school had come that no one tried to jinx her and only a couple of Gryffindors even noticed. "They're gonna go mental."

"I can still come, if you'd like? I can't imagine I'd be much help seeing as they hate me, which is funny because I hate them for actual real reasons. But I can, if you want. Help, I mean. Try to. I can try to help."

"No, thanks." It had been a while since she'd gotten so wound up that words tripped over themselves trying to get out of her mouth. "I'm alright. Really."

"You want to do this on your own," Daphne finished.

"Not just that. I dunno. I didn't realise 'til the trial, but I've spent years just going where I'm told. Doing what I should, not what I want to do."

"I didn't know Gryffindors were supposed to go around dating Slytherins," Daphne teased.

"Okay, not always. But you know what I mean."

"That you have a massive thing about saving everyone and getting wrapped up in everyone else's crap and not your own? Yeah. I do. But this is good. It's going to be fairly traumatic and probably even terrible while you're there, but it'll be worth it."

"I was kind of hoping for everything'll be fine."

"Have you met your Aunt and Uncle? I'm your girlfriend, not Morganna. Though, I can turn them into toads, if you like?"

"Pretty sure there's laws against that kind of thing."

She feigned mock outrage and then in an impression of Malfoy that was far too convincing, she said, "My father is personal friends with the Minister. I can do what I like, Potter."

They carried on chatting until the Hall filled up. Ron and Tracey joined them, followed later by a beaming and very flustered Hermione. Had they been sitting with Astoria, Hermione would've been bombarded with questions and hypothetical situations. Daphne, on the other hand, simply caught the girl's eye and smirked. The ensuing coughing fit as Hermione almost choked on her porridge was enough to startle the second-years sitting nearby.

The normality was soon broken when Professor McGonagall appeared.

"Mr Potter."

"Five more minutes?"

"Potter," she said, much harder this time. Harry sagged but untangled himself from the bench and said a hasty goodbye to his friends and Daphne. Together, he and the Head of Gryffindor, left the Great Hall and began heading to her office. Students hurried past them, trying to get to the Great Hall before the food vanished and their Saturdays were filled with too much homework.

"The Headmaster wished to take you to them himself," Professor McGonagall said eventually once they had walked into the cool Spring morning. She waved her wand and a burst of warmth washed over Harry, who had not had the foresight to fetch a coat.

"He did?"

"I believe that I owe this to you, Potter."

"Professor?"

"Professor Dumbledore may have been the one to give you to those muggles, but I witnessed their lack of compassion. My recommendation was to place you anywhere else. The Headmaster disagreed."

He seemed to do that a lot. "It's not your fault, Professor."

"I never said it was, Potter. I will, however, be responsible for taking you there on the day you leave them. You have become a fine student, in spite of their efforts, not because of them."

Harry had to tear his gaze away from Professor McGonagall to stop himself from staring. Praise was not something she willing dished out.

"Thank you."

She nodded stiffly and they continued down the path leading towards Hogsmeade. They strode by a group of fourth-years Hagrid was introducing to a small herd of Bowtruckles, one of which was trying desperately to wrench itself free of the half-giant's grip and claw at his face.

As soon as they were out of the confines of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall extended an arm. One second they were looking out at the small quaint village of Hogsmeade and the next the world lurched and they were standing at the end of Privet Drive. Harry hated magical travel.

Leaning against the roadsign, wearing black jeans and a faded band t-shirt for a group Harry had never heard of, was Sirius. It was no surprise that his version of Muggle camouflage was even more unappealing to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia than his wizard's robes. A fact that made Harry grin for the first time since leaving his breakfast.

"Morning, Harry. Minerva," he said by way of greeting, "didn't expect to see you. Albus said he was coming."

"Potter is in my house."

"You always were protective of us," Sirius grinned. "Ready to go, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he soaked in the street, how the cars were always being upgraded and the lawns were perfectly kept. Yet here and there was the odd muddy boot, a teetering stack of letters hidden behind a floral curtain or the mess of a toddler's tantrum in the back seats of an otherwise impressive Audi.

He saw curtains twitch and neighbours cast sideways glances at him. Every fibre of his being hated this place. Yet, there was an odd sense of something pulling at his heart. He knew these people, most of them hated him, most of them thought him a raving lunatic who was sent away for the sake of the family nine months of the year. But he knew that. He was just as much a part of this street as they were.

And finally, he recognised what that feeling was. It wasn't guilt, or nerves, or even trepidation, it was shame. Shame that he was running away because if he did that they won. Their minds would be filled with vindication at being rid of the Potter boy.

"They never wanted me here," he said.

"No, I don't suppose they did." Sirius pushed off from the sign and took a step towards his godson. "So, let's show them why they should've, eh?"

A couple of years ago, he wondered if he'd have done this. If he'd have watched McGonagall pop from existence and lead Sirius towards Number Four. Would he have stayed to spite them or would he have leapt to leave?

But as he knocked the door to the place that should've been his home, he knew none of that mattered.

That didn't stop his heart racing as he heard Uncle Vernon's grumbling, his heavy footsteps as he thundered to the door irritable at being interrupted on the blissful Saturday morning. Without even realising it, Harry took a step back. At that moment he'd rather face Voldemort and countless Death Eaters than the wrath of Uncle Vernon.

The door was opened, if not aggressively, then not politely. Vernon Dursley's small eyes almost disappeared into his skull as he squinted at Harry.

"Boy! What do you want? Why are you here? If it's that damned school -" He eventually noticed that Harry wasn't alone. It was only then that Harry remembered the last time his uncle had seen Sirius was a news bulletin telling the world he was an escaped lunatic.

"I don't believe we've met," Sirius extended a hand with bared his teeth in a menacing grin that told Harry his godfather hadn't forgotten who the muggle world believed him to be. "Sirius Black. Harry's godfather."

Vernon stared at the hand, stared and didn't shake it, so Sirius retracted it and then, without asking to be let in, barged past Harry's uncle and said loudly, "lovely home. Yes, very nice. And look at this, your son?"

The mention of Dudley was enough to drag Vernon from his temporary stupor. He slammed the door, but not before Harry had been able to duck under his arm, and rounded on Sirius.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Sirius said calmly, his wand in his hand before Vernon had even started ranting. "Harry may not be allowed to use magic, but I can, Dursely. So think very carefully, if that's even possible for you, before you say anything." Vernon came to an abrupt halt, his tiny eyes never moving from the end of Sirius' wand. "Good. Tea, two sugars. Then we have a lot to discuss. Harry?"

"Through here," Harry answered, directing Sirius into the Sitting Room where Aunt Petunia, who had been reading one of her romance books, shrieked and leapt from the sofa. Her hair was still in curlers and her thin hand clutched at her neck, as though she were being strangled.

"Ah, Petunia. I'd say it's lovely to see you again, but we both know I'd be lying." He gazed around the room, his eyes flitting from the various photos on the wall, taking in the person who was missing.

Petunia's breath came out harsh. "Black."

"So you do remember me. Good. That makes this a lot easier."

"You're -"

"Free? Yes. I didn't kill your sister, by the way, not that you even care. Still, good to air the truth, isn't it?" He turned his dark eyes finally to Petunia. "Like how you treated my godson like a glorified servant, for example. Locking him in a cupboard until you wanted to try and bribe magic out of him. Yes, I know about that. Why don't you go and help that idiotic husband of yours and we'll get this over with."

Petunia fled from the room without even so much as a whimper. It was only when the door slid shut behind her that Sirius let his features relax.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, falling onto the sofa which sat beneath the window and setting his wand down on the arm. "I've never been a fan of your aunt and uncle."

"Me neither." Harry took his place next to Sirius, aware that this one of the first times in his life he was allowed to sit on this particular sofa. There were parts of the house his aunt had forbidden him to touch for fear of him destroying it.

"You don't approve?"

"What? No. It's just weird, being here."

"I know the feeling," Sirius said darkly because of course he did. Harry was being freed from his prison, but Sirius had been forced to return to his. Apparently, since the trial, he'd refused to return to Grimmauld Place and was set up in a hotel until the house was ready. "It won't be long. Do you need to get anything?"

"From here? No."

"Good, we'll tell them and go."

"I'll do it," Harry said. He expected Sirius to object but his godfather simply nodded and patted him on the shoulder, before blowing out a sigh and lounging back on the sofa.

"We all have our demons," he said, letting his neck loll against the back of the sofa and his long hair dangling out so that it fell into the gap between them and the wall. "You helped me get rid of mine, just glad I can do the same."

"Cheers."

"Don't mention it."

They were left waiting for a few more minutes, in which Harry tried to ignore how his skin crawled and his heart felt as if it wanted to rip itself free from his chest. Every time he'd fought his aunt and uncle leapt to his head, replaying itself in his mind. He'd never backed down, always fought tooth and nail to get some crumb of kindness, so why when he was finally free of them did he want to turn in the other direction and run?

They heard Vernon and Petunia before they saw them. Their muttered conversation a storm cloud on the clear horizon. Sirius pulled himself upright, his fingers extending to touch the handle of his wand. It wasn't an obvious deterrent, but their eyes caught it as soon as they entered.

Vernon's moustache twitched as he looked at the small wooden stick that just happened to be capable of turning him into any manner of woodland animal. Awkwardly, her hand trembling slightly, Petunia came forwards and gave Sirius the small mug of tea he'd requested.

"So," Vernon coughed as he sat down opposite Harry and Sirius, his wife joining him moments later and clasping his hand. "Out with it then. You don't just appear unannounced, do you, boy? What do you want? Money?"

Sirius snorted but didn't say anything, leaving Harry to speak. Looking at his uncle, Harry wished he could have screamed, wished that he had it in himself to shout and rant and rave about all the horrible things they'd ever done to him. But as he watched them cling to each other like wounded animals, he couldn't be the thing they hated. Not because he didn't want to be, but because if he did then they'd have been right all along.

"You know that Sirius was accused of killing people, right?"

"Accused?" Vernon repeated.

"It means I didn't actually do it," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"I ruddy well know what it -"

"He's free now," Harry said quickly, trying to avoid a Vernon meltdown. "He's free and he's my godfather. Mum and dad would've wanted… No, I want to go and live with him. In the summer."

"And you'll have the boy, will you?" Vernon said, barely able to contain his excitement. "You don't want anything?"

"Other than to see Harry in a home where he's actually loved, no."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Vernon's anger vanished as quickly as it had come, a common trait whenever he was talking about things he didn't like. Magic. The weather. Harry. Bills. Harry.

"It's not that easy," Harry told him. He looked at his aunt who was staring back at him, her eyes never leaving his face. She knew. She bloody well knew and she'd never said. Not once. She'd taken him in and for what? Her own protection, probably. "Voldemort'll come here."

Neither of them flinched, although Petunia paled even more. "Volde-what?"

"Voldemort, the man who killed my parents."

"Oh, him," Vernon said, waving a hand and adopting the style of a man who'd just remembered where he'd last seen an actor in a new TV show. "So? You're not here. What'll it matter?"

"It'll matter because you'll be dead," Harry explained. His uncle's entire demeanour changed once more. The vein, the one Harry had come to associate with time in his cupboard and the near constant rage of his uncle whenever he'd something wrong, was throbbing in his temple.

"Is that a threat, boy?" The words came out in a deathly whisper.

"No, it's just a fact. If I leave, there'll be nothing stopping Voldemort coming here and killing you. All of you. Not because you're my family, but because he can. Because he hates muggles. Because he enjoys it."

"What does it matter if you're here? We're safe now, have been for months. No, this is rubbish."

"He's telling the truth, Vernon," Petunia whispered.

"Yes, tha - what?"

"I said, he's telling the truth. It was in the letter. As long as he's here, we're safe."

So, there had been a letter. That's how she'd known he wasn't lying. Did Dumbledore leave it? Who else would've done? They wouldn't have accepted owl mail, so it must've been given to them when he was left there. Left, like an unwanted toy. More than ever, he wished Sirius hadn't gone after Pettigrew.

"Then what do we do?"

"You move," Harry answered simply. This was met by Vernon's eyes bulging. "You move and you let Dumbledore help you and we never have to talk to each other again."

"Absolutely not!" raged a confounded Vernon Dursley. "I will not move! That is completely out of the question!"

"He'll kill you."

"Let him try," Uncle Vernon blustered.

"Aren't you listening?" Harry asked, leaping to his feet. He wanted to shake them, to force them to understand what it was they were doing. "You will die. Witches and wizards better than me, better than Sirius, better maybe than my parents, they all died. You won't stand a chance, so just move."

"This is our home! You have no right -"

Something inside Harry snapped. He heard the window crack and his aunt scream, but he ignored it.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! I have every right! You made sure of that when you locked me in a cupboard for years! When you tried to crush who I am for years. You hid everything from me! You want to pretend we're not real, that life is simple, but it's not. You can't run away from this, you can't hide or pretend it's not real because it is. He's here, he's out there and if you aren't going to listen then you're going to die!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy! GET OUT!"

Vernon towered over him, but that didn't work. The hulking figure of his uncle, fists balled and temple pulsating wasn't enough to scare him. It wasn't because of Sirius, his wand in his hand and his dark eyes flashing. It wasn't even because of his aunt, so desperately clinging to her husband's thick forearm.

His uncle wasn't the monster of his nightmares. Not anymore.

"No," Harry said calmly.

"OUT!"

"Just listen! Okay? Listen. I'm not here because I love you. I'm not here because you're worth saving, because you're not. I'm here because you're my mother's sister," he turned to his aunt. "She wouldn't have wanted you to die. She was better than that. I want to be, too."

"Rubbish, he's talking utter drivel Petunia. Don't listen to the boy."

Harry didn't let his uncle's blustering stop him. "I wish I could say I was strong enough to stay here. But I can't. I can't live under this roof so you get to go on living here for a few more years. It'll be done when I'm seventeen anyway, so I'm leaving now. You've got a few months until the wards will break." He stepped forwards, kneeling so that he could look into his aunt's face. "You either move and live a normal life or you cling to this stupid house and you wind up dead. It's up to you."

She nodded and he hoped his own movement was as sincere as it could be. They were scared, scared and frightened, and he was all that stood in the way of their total annihilation.

"But I'm done staying here," Harry continued, rising so that he could turn to his uncle. "You've won, alright. You never wanted me, did you?"

"I'd have chucked you in an orphanage," his uncle growled. "Good riddance it would've been too, been nothing but trouble since we took you in."

"Then wouldn't it be stupid if you died because I wasn't here?"

"Where would we go?" Petunia asked quietly.

"Petunia!"

"I want to hear the boy out, Vernon." She turned to Harry. "Where would we go?"

"Wherever you wanted," Harry told her. "I don't know how, I just…"

"Dumbledore can help with getting somewhere and I've got enough money to buy any house you like," Sirius added. "You wouldn't need to pay a knut. You'd be safe. But Voldemort knows about this place. This house would be safe but your work, your lives, your son. Not so much."

"But it'd be your money," Vernon said disdainfully.

"It doesn't matter where it comes from," Sirius snapped. "You can have anything you want. Anything."

"We should consider it, Vernon."

Vernon huffed, but the crashing wave of his anger had dissipated into far calmer waters. "Fine. Fine. We'll think about it. Now get out. I never want to see either of you again."

"Fine by me," Harry turned and headed for the door, throwing it so hard against the wall he was sure he'd left a dent in the plaster. His uncle roared, or at least, he tried to. Sirius had silenced him before he could utter another word. Petunia screamed, and Harry felt nothing. No remorse or even sadness. The 'family' he'd known was over and all he felt as he pulled open the door and headed up the driveway was relief.

He was finally, finally, free.