Carefully looking around again, making sure that there was nobody on the street that would see him, Harry un-shrunk his Firebolt. He knew that his ankle was going to protest savagely once he hoped onto the broomstick, but at this point, it was his only hope.

Harry had thought about Disapperating, however, the pain he was currently in would have distracted him and he would more than likely end up splinching himself in the process if he tried it and then he would be worse off. So flying in an ugly storm was his only option.

Steeling himself for the onslaught of pain, Harry positioned the broomstick in a way that would allow him to quickly hop onto it, hissing loudly as pain lanced up his leg, Harry pushed off from the ground and into the sky leaving the lonely and empty street behind him.

What a feeling it was to fly through the sky, despite the pain in his ankle, Harry could appreciate the sensation of the wind whipping past his face and through his hair. Nevertheless, Harry knew he could not relish in the feeling for long as the sky made a sound like a cannon and the dark clouds made no attempt to hide their fury.

Leaning down Harry urged his Firebolt to go faster as lightning lashed the air around him, it was through the flashes of light that Harry realized something - he was not up there alone. He never could catch a break could he? Trying to seem as though he wasn't looking for whoever they were, Harry discretely tried to gauge whether they were a friendly or not.

If they were a Death Eater, they would have attacked by now, if they were a member of the order they would have made their presence known and approached him by now and if it were Voldemort? Harry was not real sure what the Dark Lord would do if he were without his Death Eaters. Would he have waited around for hours to see if Harry popped up somewhere so sure of himself that Harry would reappear?

Actually, as Harry thought about it, he would have done the same thing; in fact, he had done the same thing when he had been essentially stalking Malfoy last year. He had watched the Marauder's Map for hours waiting for Malfoy's name to appear on it after every time it disappeared. So, was it a complete stretch that Voldemort would do the same?

If they were not that different, what a creepy thought to have, as Harry suspected than yes it very well could be Voldemort that was trailing him right now. If it was, why was his scar not hurting? Why was he staying that far behind? As Harry thought hard about this, he felt his scar twinge slightly in response to his thoughts.

Harry's knuckles tightened around the handle on his broomstick, as lightning spider-webbed close to his face, his cheek tingling as a hundred thousand volts past by him. Harry swerved down away from the angry clouds that were determined to fry him. As Harry righted himself, he turned his head to see where his silent companion had gone.

Upon turning his head, Harry's eyes made instant contact with startling red ones. It was a lure, the calm, the quiet. It had led Harry into thinking that they had all left, the fact that Harry's scar had not hurt or done anything up until this point had been intentional. So when Harry flew up into the sky, he would become exposed, his hiding spot given away, it was rather genius in a way Harry had to admit and now he had to outfly Voldemort who apparently could fly without a broomstick.

Snapping his head back around Harry urged his broom to go as fast as it could, as a red light sailed over his head, a stunner. Harry hoped that his Firebolt could outfly the Dark Lord's magic, if not they were all doomed.

"You cannot escape me Harry Potter!" Voldemort's voice sounded loudly behind, reminiscent of those black clouds, which had Harry wondering if they had been conjured by the dark wizard.

Just as Harry felt the brush of long fingers on the back of his cloak, Harry performed a move similar to a Wronski Feint. A tactic often used in Quidditch to confuse the other seeker that they had seen the snitch, Harry only hoped it worked as he raced towards the ground at a staggering pace.

At the last second, Harry pulled out of the dive the tips of his toes tracing along the ground, which sent a bolt of pain swirling through his ankle, screaming Harry, barreled past houses, twisting and turning at a speed he had never travelled at before. Not daring to look back, Harry kept flying as fast as he could.

It was only when Harry felt Voldemort's murderous rage through their shared connection that he chanced a glance behind him, the Dark Lord was no longer chasing him, he had managed to lose him, 'Good,' Harry thought, he couldn't sigh in relief just yet, he had another hour or so until he reached the Burrow.

Soon Harry found himself flying over countryside, the rolling hills looked so serene and peaceful, if only reality could be the same. The storm was no longer raging as it had been; now there was a driving rain, which almost obscured the Burrow from view.

Upon seeing the Weasley's home, such joy overcame Harry and an overwhelming relief started to settle in as he saw Ron, Hermione and all the other Weasley's rush out of the Burrow to greet him as he crashed through the wards surrounding the property.