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Harry Potter and the American Adventure by SunSation Gal 07
Chapter 4 : Back to Grimmauld
 
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Chapter 4- Back to Grimmauld


Harry Potter sat up straight as a load yell ripped from his throat, beads of sweat dripped down his face as he shoved his fist into his mouth as to not wake his aunt, uncle and whale of a cousin. He removed his hand from his mouth, reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his glasses before shoving them roughly onto his face. The small, dark room came into focus. 

As he breathing began to level out, he whipped the cold sweat off his face with his sleeve before he began to rub the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead as it continued to sting. It was this strangely shaped scar that allowed him to occasionally see into Lord Voldemort’s mind, or for the Lord to enter his, as he had done a little over a month previous in the Ministry of Magic. 

Pushing aside all thoughts of what had happened at the Ministry of Magic, Harry held his breath as he listened for any sound from his uncle’s room. A loud snore erupted from down the hall and Harry let out the deep breath he had been holding in the silence. 

As he sat silently in his room, his uncles and cousins snoring now creating a very crud harmony, Harry thought back to the dream that had awoken him. He glanced around his small, dark room as he thought of the cruel, cold laughter that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. 

A Death Eater, a female that he did not recognize from his previous encounters with the Dark Lord, had given a report, the subject being a female Potter. But that was impossible; he was the last of the Potter line. He couldn’t possible have a relative hidden somewhere in the United States, could he? 

Caught up in the thoughts of possibly having a living relative besides the Dursleys, Harry started as the alarm clock neck to his bed began to ring, short, high pitched tones repeating through the air of the small room. He reached over and flipped the switch on the back, turning it off in mid ring. He glanced at the time that glowed red on the small clock. Six-thirty. He had eight and a half hours until someone from the Order arrived to retrieve him. 

As he moved out of bed he glanced around the rather empty room. All his things, minus the night clothes he was wearing and a pair of clothes he was planning to change into, were all packed rather disorderly in his trunk, which lay at the foot of his bed with Hedwig’s cage sitting on top of it. When he had received a letter from Ron the day before, in which he was told to be ready at six the next day, he had sent a reply with Hedwig and told her to stay at Grimmauld place. 

Harry walked over to his wardrobe, where he hung up the cloths he had left out for the day, and opened the door. As he reached in to get the shirt that was hanging up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror inside the door. The reflection of a fifteen, almost sixteen year old boy stared back at him. He had grown a few inches since he had left King’s Cross a little over a month prior, though he was sure he was still nowhere near as tall as his best friend Ron. 

Heavy bags were obvious under his green eyes, only slightly obscured by his black framed glasses. Though he had spent some time mourning his deceased godfather, only to come to the realization that him lingering on it would be the last thing Sirius wanted, it didn’t stop the dreams of watching him fall every night. Though the dream last night was by no means good, it was a change from the usual. 

Harry heard the distant sound of his uncle’s alarm clock, telling the man it was time to get up for the day, down the hall. With a sight, Harry pulled his clean clothes out of the wardrobe and closed the door, cutting off his staring reflection. 





The day went by rather slowly as Harry counted down to three o’clock. He had reminded his aunt and uncle that he was leaving that afternoon at breakfast, only to receive a grunt in reply before he finished his toast and went back to his room. Grunt, glares and the occasional sentence were all that the Dursleys had said to him since being threatened at King’s Cross by Moody. 

So Harry watched as the day ticked by, trying to read a book he had pulled out of his trunk to pass the time, which of course didn’t help seeing as he kept looking to his clock to see that only a minute had passed since he had last looked. With a groan he slammed the book shut, unable to even attempt reading any longer and looked to his clock. Two fifty-nine. 

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered as he sat up from where he had been laying on his bed and moved to replace to book inside his trunk. He had just closed the lid when the doorbell sounded downstairs. He hurried out of his room, pulling his trunk behind him with Hedwig’s empty cage in the other hand and reached the door just as whoever stood on the other side rang the bell again, no sign of his aunt or his cousin anywhere in the hall. He set down the trunk and cadge and opened the door to see Moody, Tonks and Remus standing on the other side smiling at him, wearing the same Muggle attire he had last seen them in, down to Tonk’s ‘Weird Sister’s shirt. 

“Hello, Harry,” smiled Remus, who looked a little shabbier and seemed to have a few more grey hairs then he had when Harry saw him last. Tonks greeted him with her usual, cheerful ‘Wotcher, Harry’ while Moody went straight to business. 

“All set, Potter?” Moody asked as Tonks reached forward and took Hedwig’s empty cage, winking at Harry when he glanced over at her. 

“Yes. How are we get-,” Harry began to ask but stopped mid sentence when Moody pulled an old and yellowing copy of the Daily Prophet out of his pocket. Moody looked at him with his visible normal eye and a raised eyebrow in amusement as Harry shook his head and muttered a ‘never mind.’ Moody’s eye then moved to something behind Harry, and he turned around to see Petunia standing in the door from the kitchen, a look of disgust and mistrust on her face as she looked at the three adult wizards in her hallway. 

“See you next summer, Aunt Petunia,” said Harry before turning around, not caring about watching her silent reaction, if she had even reacted at all. 

“Ready?” Moody asked as he held out the paper. Harry nodded as he placed a finger on the paper, bracing himself for the familiar, and disliked, tug that was to come. “Three…..two……one.” As Moody said one, Harry felt the tug on his navel and Privet Drive disappeared in rush of wind and color.


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