Harry sat on the edge of his bed deep in thought. He needed to make a plan. He had no money and barely any belongings; how would he survive? And would he let the Dursleys know of his plans or just disappear into the night?
Harry didn’t care about schooling though, he didn’t think that any more of that hell would do him any good. Despite the fact that he still had over a year to go, Harry felt that it definitely wasn’t worth it.
He looked around his room realising that he could barely even fit anymore. The cupboard under the stairs had served as his room for nearly seventeen years and now, he was preparing to leave it.
Harry felt a strange twinge of melancholy at that thought. The cupboard was his safe haven. He would often hide there from Dudley and his cronies; the Dursleys had actually come to the conclusion that keeping a child in a storage cupboard would not keep up the proper appearance. No, the Dursleys would not allow anyone to see where Harry would stay cooped up.
That wasn’t the only advantage to living in the cupboard. While living in such close confines with all sorts of insects and ‘despicable creepy crawlies’ – as Petunia affectionately dubbed them – Harry had formed some sort of inexplicable bond with them.
Sometimes he was sure that the spiders understood what he was saying. They were the closest he had to friends. Harry would, on rare occasions, play pranks on Dudley and his friends. The spiders wouldn’t bother Harry, but Dudley was petrified of them. He would sneak into Dudley’s room and place a spider onto the bed.
Once Harry swore that one of the spiders winked at him. Harry thought he was going mad, but the absurdity lay before his eyes. The high-pitched squealing that emitted from Dudley’s room never failed to amuse Harry.
Harry would usually hide in his cupboard as his body convulsed with silent laughter. Oh, the times that he had with that room. The room and its contents - animate or inanimate - would be the sole things that Harry would miss.
He sighed and glanced around as he decided on what he should pack. He picked up his ratty school bag, which was fortunately quite large thanks to Dudley’s heftiness, and emptied its contents.
Things fell everywhere. Books with coffee stains and torn covers, bloodied tissues, squashed sandwiches, and even ripped pieces of clothing. The majority being the fault of none other than Dudley and his cronies.
Harry scowled at the sight. He would never have to put up with that rubbish again now that he was leaving. He would never have to get beaten and bloodied ever again. Or so he hoped.
Harry scrabbled through his few belongings to find what would actually be useful. He tossed a few jumpers into his bag; he never knew where he might end up and a jumper was bound to come in handy. He put a few bits of other clothing in which he had pulled from the end of his bed. He didn’t even have enough clothing to fill a draw – not that his aunt and uncle would ever care to buy one.
He most certainly wouldn’t need all of the oversized socks that had been given to him over the years as the occasional birthday present. But a few wouldn’t do him any harm.
They were nearly all of Harry’s belongings, except for a few. He packed a few bits and pieces from around the house that he was fairly certain his aunt and uncle wouldn’t miss.
Last of all, Harry packed his most important possession. His lucky charm – the feather of a snowy owl. Harry loved the feather more than anything else, as he reminisced on the times it had brought him luck.
One afternoon, when he was about eleven or twelve, he had been running away from Dudley and his gang as they attempted to bash him up. As they closed in on him a snowy owl flew over Harry, dropping a feather straight into his hands. Dudley would have reached him right then if it weren’t for the feather. As soon as the feather landed in Harry’s hands, he found himself perched upon a shed roof, some way down the street.
Harry had been unable to comprehend what had happened, yet the feather had somehow saved him from yet another afternoon of torture. From that day on, Harry treasured the feather for that reason.
He usually kept it hidden in his room, as he never wanted anyone to find it and take it away from him. Harry smiled at the memories of when it had helped him. The simple white feather was priceless in Harry’s opinion.
Pulling from his reverie, Harry decided that he needed to tell his aunt and uncle that he was leaving. It was the right thing to do.
Ducking his head, Harry left his room to go and tell them. He would be leaving at dawn to make the most of the new day.
Heart pounding, he made his way towards the living room, where they would almost certainly be. He clenched his fists in anticipation as he walked up to them.
He hovered at the end of the couch where Petunia was seated, before Vernon cleared his throat. Taking a deep breath, Harry stated that he would be leaving tomorrow to make a new life for himself.
The Dursleys seemed to go into a shocked silence. They were actually listening to him for once.
Petunia stuttered, “You c-can’t leave, boy. I, I’m under strict instructions that you can’t leave here until you are of age.” And then she clapped her hand over her mouth as she realised that she had revealed too much.
Harry narrowed his eyes, “I don’t care why you don’t want me to leave, but I’m going and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Maybe I’ll even find out something about my parents while I’m at it.”
Author’s Note: Thanks for reading :) I really appreciate feedback :) This is yet to be edited. The excitement will start next chapter!