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The Time it All Began by Remus
Chapter 1 : The Escape
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 28

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The Escape

As the hot sun of July began to disappeared over the horizon and as the cool evening began its slow approach, a tall but unhealthy looking boy was gazing out of his bedroom window mindlessly. For him, another boring and uneventful evening made its slow toll in Privet Drive. Perhaps the only thing happening outside the uniformed houses were the random arrival of several children to their homes after a long day full of games and play or maybe a mother or father arriving home after a monotonous day of work.

Because of lies, the residents of Privet Drive usually turned their sight when the teenager passed by or felt sorry for the Dursleys for having such a criminal in their house. It was true that the teenager was different from his relatives, but he was no criminal. He was actually a wizard who had escaped death more than once. His name was Harry James Potter. But unfortunately he was destined to be different even from his fellow wizards. The first difference was a thin scar in the shape of a lighting bolt on his forehead and the second one was that Voldemort, the darkest wizard of the century, wanted him dead. All because of a prophecy.

Because of the prophecy he had lost his parents and had to live with the Dursleys, the most pathetic excuse for a family. And because of the prophecy he had lost his Godfather, Sirius about four weeks before. Harry cursed with his entire soul the existence of the prophecy. He hated it. But hating it wouldn’t bring him back. Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he had listened to Hermione…

Harry shook his head and tried to get rid of the image of Sirius falling beyond the veil. He, whether Harry liked it or not, was dead and was never coming back. But as soon as the thought of his Godfather and the cursed veil vanished from his mind, it was quickly replaced by the prophecy and its contents; hearing it once was enough for it to be engraved in his brain forever.

Much to Harry’s distaste he was the one chosen to put an end to Voldemort’s killing sprees and the contamination of his beliefs towards those muggle-born. Every time Harry wasn’t occupied with chores such as mowing the lawn or washing the windows his thoughts usually ended up revolving around the Prophecy and the endless list of ‘what ifs’. What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if one of his friends were caught and killed? What if he failed? What if Neville had been picked instead of him? The list was too long…

Every day, after he had finished with his hateful daily chores, he went up to his room and locked himself for the rest of the day. From time to time, Harry went days without eating, not because of his Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon like years before; but because he usually lost track of time while he was buried in deep concentration that he missed dinner by accident. Although, there were times that his rumbling stomach complained so much that Harry had to put a stop to his thinking and actually take a break to join the Dursleys for dinner; not that he or the Dursleys enjoyed it.

Tonight was one of those nights. He had already gone three days without a single bite to eat but he thought that he was somehow training his brain and body to go days without nourishment. Who knew if Voldemort wanted to kidnap him and keep him locked for days without food or water in order to weaken him and his will; Harry knew that if that happened he would have the advantage. Besides, he hadn’t felt like eating lately…

Harry finally detached himself from his bedroom window when his stomach gave a loud protest; whether he liked it or not he was going to join the Dursleys for dinner. By the time Harry arrived to the kitchen, all three members of the Dursley family were sitting around the kitchen table discussing their future trip to France as soon as Harry was out of their way. With great difficulty Harry managed to get to his seat; Dudley seemed to need more space for himself lately.

Without a word to his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia or Dudley, Harry served himself some vegetables to go along with the fish Aunt Petunia had prepared. As he began to eat peacefully, he wondered about his O.W.L’s results. Unfortunately, his train of thought was quickly stopped when Uncle Vernon, a large beefy man with an excessive amount of moustache, spoke to him.

“Did you write to those freaky friends of yours?” he barked while eyeing him with his little piggy-like eyes. “The last thing I want is for one of them to actually show up in my front step. So you better have written to them, boy.”

Harry’s nerves twitched but did not respond. The last thing he wanted to do was give him another reason to chuck him out; although the idea of leaving the Dursley’s was rather tempting. “I did. And my ‘freaky’ friends have names. You might as well use them.”

“Listen to me,” Uncle Vernon spat while waving his fork at Harry “I will not tolerate that tone while you’re in this house.” Harry bit his tongue preventing himself from speaking his mind out. “You know I don’t want any trouble with you and your…friends. So you better behave. You should be thankful you‘re still here because if it were for me I would hand you over myself to that Volde-thingy that is after you.” Wonder how I did in Potions…Harry thought trying his best to ignore his uncle’s ranting. “I don’t see why he has to be here, Petunia. The last thing I want is for you or Dudley to be hurt because of that man that is after this boy here.”

Harry, who knew why he had to stay with the Dursleys every summer holiday, lifted his gaze to look at his aunt; he wondered what her excuse was going to be. “What will the neighbours say if he suddenly disappears?” she answered but not looking at her husband, the lie was too much for her.

“We can make up a lie.” said Uncle Vernon rather simply as he held his glass of water with his beefy hand. “We can tell them that he needs special treating at St. Brutus’s. They’ll believe that as long as we keep our excuse constant.” As much I hate Snape, I hope I did well. I really want to be an Auror. Harry continued to think as he tried his best to control his rising anger. “I say his freaky Godfather should take him. He’s more-”

Harry didn’t give him time to finish what he had to say. With one quick move he stood up and faced his beefy uncle. “Listen to me. Do not, and let me repeat myself so there are no mistakes in the future, DO NOT SPEAK OF SIRIUS IN ANY WAY!”

Harry saw as his uncle began to rise from his chair and giving him a murderous look. That’s it, he thought bitterly, I’m going to die here killed by my uncle instead of by the hand of Voldemort. ‘Harry Potter, killed by Muggle Relative.’ Yeah, that’s what the Daily Prophet will have for a headline as soon as they find out. With luck, Voldemort will read it and choke himself to death as he laughs.

Harry then realized that his Uncle, who was breathing hard and turning purple by the second, was actually thinking about the great dilemma in front of him. If he hit him, Harry’s friends will find out and perhaps go after him and his family. In the other hand, he had been waiting long enough to do it. Finally, Uncle Vernon seemed to have decided to grab him by the collar of his shirt and bring Harry closer to his beefy face.

“You’re under my house and under my rules.” he sneered still giving him the murderous glare “I talk about those freaky friends of yours however I please, and you cannot tell me what to do. Is that clear!” Harry’s breathing quicken and his temper was likely rising, but instead of talking back he freed himself from his Uncle’s grasp, and without looking back he went up to his room.

Fuming, he slammed the door behind him thinking that this ‘family’ of his was too much for him. He paced a little around his room trying to control his anger but just as he was about to scream to get rid of some his frustration, a brown owl swooped into his room and landed on his bed; a letter from Hogwarts was in its beak

In that instant, Harry launched himself towards the owl and took the letter from him knowing what it contained. He tore the letter open and just before he read the official parchment, he took a big calming breath and prepared himself for the worst.

Dear Mr. Potter

As you know, your O.W.L. results will have an impact on the future career you wish choose. Just before ending your Fifth year, it was discussed what you wanted to do after Hogwarts and therefore we advise you to really think about career choice concerning your O.W.L.’s results. Your O.W.L results are the following:

Charms: Exceeds Expectations/ Outstanding
Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations/ Outstanding
Herbology: Acceptable/ Outstanding
Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding/ Outstanding
Potions: Outstanding/ Outstanding
Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations/ Outstanding
Astronomy: Acceptable/ Outstanding
Divinations: Dreadful/ Outstanding
History of Magic: Dreadful/ Outstanding

Total O.W.L.’s: 7

It is recommended that you chose your N.E.W.T.s classes relating to the career path you wish to take and write back letting us know of your decision. You may drop those courses that are not really your forte or are not necessary for your career. Once we receive your letter we will revise it and will send you a list with your new books and necessary equipment right away. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

A weak laugh escaped Harry’s lips he had done well despite the lack of studying. Harry sighed knowing that he had two more years of Snape and his attitude. He re-read the letter and immediately he went over to his trunk, got his quill out and began to write back to Professor McGonagall about his class choice. He was going to drop Divinations- he was ready to do that the first day he had it- Astronomy and History of Magic. The classes he was going to keep were N.E.W.T. Transfiguration, N.E.W.T. Potions, N.E.W.T. Charms, N.E.W.T. Defence Against the Dark Arts with an unknown teacher, N.E.W.T. Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

Once done, he walked up to the owl and gave it his answer; with a hoot, it exited the room and soared back into the dark night sky. As Harry began to relax a bit after the entire incident during dinner, a loud voice was heard from the other side of his bedroom door

“Are you awake, boy?” Came Uncle Vernon’s booming voice. Harry’s forgotten anger had come back in an instant remembering the ‘conversation’ with his Uncle.

“Unfortunately,” Harry answered through gritted teeth and opened the bedroom door. “What is it?”

“Your Aunt isn’t feeling so well, so you are going to feed Sultan.” Sultan was Dudley’s new bulldog given by Uncle Vernon as a welcome-home-for-the-summer present. Along with Harry, Aunt Petunia seemed to be disgusted of the idea of having a dog in the house.

“But Sultan is Dudley’s pet,” retorted Harry with impatience “Why should I feed him?”

“Dudley just left, he’s gone out with some friends and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Now get on with it, you don’t have all night.” Harry sighed in defeat and proceeded to do the dangerous task before him. Sure, he could recover the Philosopher’s Stone, fight against a basilisk, get past a very dangerous dragon, and do many other things but he couldn’t manage to feed a dog that hated his guts without getting bitten; Harry sometimes wondered if the dog was related to Ripper, Aunt Marge’s dog.

Harry found Sultan’s dog-food and poured some into the dog’s empty grey bowl. Once outside, Harry’s eyes landed on the fat bulldog that was resting- and thankfully chained- by his dog-house. Sultan seem to grow bigger as weeks passed reminding Harry vaguely of Dudley. Like owner, like pet, Harry mused as he cautiously inched towards the dog.

Sultan opened one of his beady eyes and began to snarl as Harry approached. Very slowly, Harry began to place the bowl full of dog-food onto the ground. Sultan-still snarling- glared at Harry viciously but did not attack. Much to Harry’s dislike the dog was smart, he knew that if he attacked Harry before he gave him his food he won’t get anything to eat. So the only thing he could do was wait until the food was safely on the ground.

Once the bowl was on the ground, he hesitated on letting go knowing that as soon as he did so, Sultan was going to chew his whole arm off. A finger detached from the bowl. A second finger. A third. And as soon his hand was separated from the bowl, Sultan launched himself at him tried his best to bite Harry with its sharp teeth. Harry wrestled Sultan until the dog looked up and suddenly scurried back to his dog house afraid of what he had seen.

Coughing, Harry looked up and saw Mundungus Fletcher standing above him. “‘S’ up, ’arry?” he asked as he lighted his pipe, “Some dog there, don’t you think?” Harry stood up quickly and dusted angrily as they got further away from Sultan. Once safely away, Harry stared at Mundungus with thankful and yet reproachful eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He asked rather annoyed of the idea of being followed again “Dumbledore sent you, didn’t he?

“Of course, ’e sent me.” Mundungus said with an obvious tone of voice “Why else would I be ’ere?”

“How I wish Dumbledore would just stop having me followed.” Harry muttered more to himself than to Mundungus. Mundungus knew that at the age of fifteen Harry was irritated by almost everything and everyone.

“How many more are following me? Are they around here? Where are they?” Harry demanded.

“I’m not allowed to say…but there are a few others around” said Mundungus narrowing his eyes at Harry “Why?”

“Well, how would you feel if you were being followed everywhere you go?” Snapped Harry.

“Dunno, angry I suppose” Mundungus answered truthfully as he noticed that Harry was at exploding point.

“Exactly. Well, guess what, that’s how I feel.” said Harry through gritted teeth “You wouldn’t like it either if you were kept in the dark for years not knowing why some maniac was after you or why he killed your parents. And then suddenly you’re being followed. Tell me, ever felt lonely, Mundungus?”

Mundungus stood still not knowing what to do or say he only kept still listening to Harry’s yelling. “Well I have. ‘Specially now that…that…” tears sting his eyes. It was the first time Harry almost admitted out loud his death.

“Sirius is dead?” offered Mundungus. Harry noted that his tone was hurt. And then he remembered, he was one of Sirius’s friends. “’arry, don’t blame yourself for that. ’E wouldn’t want you- ”

“What do you know…” Harry said turning around to wipe his eyes before Mundungus saw his tears. Once his face was clear from the hot tears he faced Mundungus again “Dumbledore should’ve said something…he should’ve warned me. He should’ve come clean when I first asked him years ago…”

“’e cares about you ‘arry.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Shouted Harry not caring anymore if the Dursleys or any of the neighbours came out of their houses and saw him shouting at a strange looking person. “He only cares about how and who will get rid of Voldemort.” Mundungus flinched a bit with the sound of his name “BECAUSE OF THAT, I‘VE BEEN SACRIFICED TO A LIFE FULL OF SECRETS, LIES AND A CONSTANT INNER TORTURE COMING FROM UNKNOWN DEMONS!” Harry snapped at Mundungus who noticed that some lights from the neighbouring house were being turned on.

“I-I-I just wish for it to go away,” Harry said with a weak tone rather than an angry one “or that I could get away from it…” Harry sighed with sudden fatigue coming from everything that had happened to him; he felt old all of the sudden. “Good night, Mundungus.”

“’arry, wait” Mundungus called after him but it was no use, Harry had ignored him. Harry went back inside, made sure that every light was turned off and that the door was locked before going up to his room. He laid on his bed with so much exhaustion that he didn’t even had the strength to take off his clothes. Suddenly, the small idea that he had been burning his brain for about a week began to make it’s appearance once again.

‘Pick up your broom, Harry’ said a tiny voice inside him. ‘Leave for a day or two where neither Voldemort and Dumbledore can find you. A place where you can be by yourself and your thoughts. A place to finally figure out what to do.’

‘But where?’ contradicted his conscience. ‘Where should go to stay undetected?’

‘Maybe you don’t pick the place…’ Harry’s other side persisted ‘the place it self would be a mystery to you until you arrive.’

‘Yeah, then how am I supposed to arrive?’ his conscience asked. ‘I can’t fly a broom with my eyes closed, I’ll hit an airplane if I do.’

‘Not you, you twit.’ his other side sneered ‘There’s the Knight Bus. Ask them to take you someplace, anyplace. With your invisibility cloak you could fly away to a safe place where you then flag the Knight Bus down.’ Harry considered the idea of taking the Knight Bus to go some place away from the Wizarding World, away from Dumbledore and his ‘protection’ and away from Voldemort. Harry rolled over his side and took his glasses off; he couldn’t afford to break them during the summer. He needed to get away for a while.

Harry nodded to himself and, putting his glasses back on first, he headed towards his trunk where he took out his invisibility cloak along with his Firebolt. If he wanted to take a break from everything, he had to do it very carefully without disturbing the Dursleys who were watching TV in their room and without announcing his departure to the ‘protection’ that apparently was surrounding the house. He also had to do it fast giving Dumbledore no time to get into his mind and see of his little plan; Harry wondered whether Dumbledore was at a meeting with the Order at the moment. If that were the case, Harry was lucky.

Harry, very quietly, began to open the door of his room but the little voice inside him spoke again. ‘Take the mirror, you’re forgetting your wand too, idiot, and you might as well take Hedwig with you, what if something happens while you’re away. Gold too, you can’t ride the Knight Bus for free, you know ’

‘I understand the take your wand, gold and Hedwig…but why should I take the mirror?’

‘That way you’ll have something of him as you go…’ Harry went back to his trunk and searched for some gold and the now broken mirror. After everything was secured in his pockets-the mirror was wrapped in a old rag- then he unlocked Hedwig’s cage; she opened her amber eyes and looked at Harry with reproaching eyes. “I need you to fly to a low wall in Magnolia Crescent. I’ll be there shortly with dad’s invisibility cloak. We’re going away for a while, all right girl?” he said as he stroke her soft white feathers. Hedwig hooted in agreement and, ruffling her wings, she flew out the window into the starless sky.

“Right…” Harry breathed wondering if he was doing the right thing, to run away. Not bothering on the subject anymore and clearing his mind, Harry went down the stairs wearing his father’s invisibility cloak and carrying his Firebolt in one hand. There was only one slight problem. How was he going to open the door without causing suspicion to those surrounding the house. He needed to make Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia open the door for him and that way none of those following him would ever think that he went away. But how was he going to do it? Suddenly an idea stroke him. No matter how stupid it was he knew it was the only way to get out without arousing suspicion.

He wrapped his hand with a kitchen towel carefully and, still wearing his invisibility cloak, went to the window closest to the door. He brought his hand up into the air and rapidly brought it down against the window breaking it instantly. Knowing that leaving the towel wouldn’t be very smart he brought it under the invisibility cloak. He kept very still as he watched Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia--who clutched her night gown with terror and hiding behind Uncle Vernon--come downstairs to investigate the sound.

“W-w-who’s there?” stammered Uncle Vernon as he stepped on the landing and turned the light on. “You better show yourself, I’m armed.” he lied.

“Vernon, look over there.” Aunt Petunia pointed a bony finger at the shattered glass just a feet or two away from Harry‘s feet. Harry watched as Uncle Vernon’s face turned purple and headed towards the door muttering under his breath something about hooligans and destroying his property. Harry, who was inches away from being touched by Uncle Vernon, waited patiently as he opened the door to see if he could catch a glimpse of those who had shattered his precious window.

“Stay inside, Petunia.” Ordered his uncle as he walked outside to check the streets to see any ruffians running or watching from a distance, finding the sight entertaining. Harry seized the opportunity and very quietly slipped outside where he leant over a wall next to window; all he needed to do was wait until Uncle Vernon was inside before he flew away. “Nothing,” Uncle Vernon grunted as he joined his bony wife. “They must have ran away. Too bad Dudley wasn’t here to catch them and knock some sense into them.”

“Do you think it could have been…his crowd.” Whatever might’ve been Uncle Vernon’s answer, Harry didn’t know; Uncle Vernon had closed the door behind him. Harry barely had time to rejoice for his newfound freedom when he saw a cat that belonged to Mrs. Figg carefully make his approach. Not wanting to know whether the cat could see him or not, he got onto his broom and soared into the sky.

The feeling of being free and flying once again was great. For about a minute his bad moods, his troubles and everything else were thrown away into the chilly night. He could only take in the sight below him; the tiny houses, ant size people and toy-looking cars. Unfortunately, his bad mood returned when his invisibility cloak began to slip away from his body and broom. Very carefully, the last thing he wanted to happen was to slip and fall off his Firebolt, he grabbed one side of the cloak with one hand and wrapped it tight enough around his body.

The joy of flying quickly came to an end as he approached Magnolia Crescent; no one seemed to have followed him. Once safely on the ground Harry looked around for Hedwig. She gave a soft hoot that indicated Harry that she was waiting for him on one of the trees close to the low wall; Harry was glad that she too had gone undercover by hiding in the deepest branches. Harry then took his invisibility cloak and tucked it carefully under his arm. Once he was ready, he called Hedwig to him and then raised his wand hand high in the air to flag the Knight Bus.

Just as he knew it would happen, a loud BANG came from a few feet away from him; the Knight Bus had made its grand appearance. As usual, out came Stan whose job was to give a large, boring speech about the Knight Bus and what it was for. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency…” he stopped when he saw Harry’s annoyed face. “Oi, look ’Oo it is, Ern, ’Arry Potter. Lost again aren’t ya?” He asked him.

“No, not really.” Harry said as he dug his hand in his pocket in search for some gold.

“Well, what you doin’ ‘ere then?”

“Here’s thirteen sickles.” he shoved the silver coins in his hands trying to evade that question.

“No trunk?” Stan asked narrowing his eyes as he stepped aside for Harry to go in.

“Nope.” Harry got on the all-too-familiar triple-decker bus and saw the same beds and curtains he had seen a couple of years before. Without anymore questions, Stan lead him to the third bed from the front where Hedwig got off Harry’s shoulder and flew over to the pillow making herself comfortable before falling asleep once again. Harry wondered whether he had done good to leave Privet Drive just like that. His wondering stopped just as soon the Knight Bus began to speed up tossing Harry on his assigned bed.

“Where to, ’Arry?” Stan asked as he flipped the Daily Prophet. There was an article on the back of the newspaper concerning how Sirius Black had helped Lucius Malfoy and other Death Eaters escape from Azkaban. Harry felt angered at the article because he knew that it was all a lie since Sirius was dead and had never worked on the dark side. Harry was sure that Fudge was still somewhat controlling the Daily Prophet since he gave false alarms and false reports of how Voldemort was being followed up to Scotland and was soon going to be stopped. From dreams, Harry knew that Voldemort was in his dad’s old house, The Riddle House.

“’Arry?” snapped his head up and saw Stan staring at him curiously. “You ’kay?”

“It’s all a lie.” Harry said looking at the Daily Prophet Stan was holding. “Fudge doesn’t have a clue where Vol--You-Know-Who is.” Harry didn’t know why he was telling him this. He thought it was by pure malice towards Fudge or maybe he was trying to tell people the truth. Of course he knew that Stan wasn’t going to believe him at all.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Just do. And all those things he says about Sirius Black…all lies.”

“You outta your tree? Sirius Black murdered thirteen people.” Said Stan incredulous. “You forgot of that talk we had a few years ago?”

“I do…but…never mind.” Harry knew that telling Stan the truth would be a waste of time; he wasn’t going to believe him at all.

“Right…Oi, Ern we should tell Mister Callahan and his daughter that we’re about to arrive Liverpool.” Ern gave a grunt and Stan went to look for Mister Callahan and his daughter while humming to himself. The man was a tall person with black hair and dark sapphire blue eyes and was wearing dark brown robes. By his side there was a small child about five years old holding tight to a worn-out teddy bear. She had her father’s hair and eyes but everything else apparently came from her mother. The little girl held her father’s hand with her free hand as the bus made a sharp stop and gave Harry a tiny smile; Harry smiled back.

“’ere you go, Mister Callahan,” said Stan as he helped the man with his trunk.

“Come on, Raven” Her father called. Before they both descended the Knight Bus, the little girl-Raven- gave Harry a parting wave. Once the door was shut there was a loud BANG and they were once again in motion.

“All right, where to, ’Arry” Stan asked him for the second time. Harry didn’t have an idea of what to say. Finally, after searching his brain for a few seconds he came up with something. “Well…how about you take me to the place I can call home.” Stan stared at him with wonder. But before he could ask him what he mean, Ernie grunted and continued to drive; apparently he knew where to take him. Then, against his will, his eyes began to grow heavy with sleep and his brain began to doze off as he paid no heed to Stan’s ranting about how right Fudge’s tactics against the Death Eaters seemed…

“We’re not going to make it, my lord.” Harry heard from behind. When He turned around he saw a tall man covered in a knight’s suit from head to toe; a few stains of blood on it. The man looked afraid through his visor and apparently was asking Harry for his opinion. “What do you want us to do? Sir?” The man walked towards Harry and placed his large hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. “My Lord?”

Harry shook awake and saw Stan’s pimply face staring down at him. Harry yawned and looked at his old watch, realizing that it was about ten o’ clock; he had been on the Knight Bus for thirty minutes. As he laid on the bed he wondered if the Dursleys or those following him already knew of his departure

“Here we are, ’Arry.” Yawning, he woke Hedwig up and got hold of his broom and invisibility cloak which Stan was looking at with interesting eyes but said nothing. This last dream had been the weirdest and meaningless dream he had ever had over the years but yet it felt so real, he could even still remember the smell of the blood about him. Harry stepped off the bus to the unfamiliar place Ernie had driven him to.

“’ope you find wot you’re looking’ for” said Ernie nodding at him and without another word, the doors of the Knight Bus slammed shut and with a BANG, it disappeared. Harry didn’t have a clue where he was…in fact, he was beginning to think running away for a few days had definitely been a stupid idea.

The moon was high in the sky and Harry had walked around the streets of the unknown place with still no clue whatsoever where he was. Hedwig, who was wide awake, flew off his shoulder to a dark sign ahead of him. Harry stopped short at a street corner and wildly looked around; his heart was thumping fast and hard against his chest. He was lost and didn’t have a clue how far away he was from Headquarters, Privet Drive, the Burrow or Hogwarts.

He turned towards Hedwig and before he could order her to get some help, Harry read the sign she was perched on. He read it once. He read it twice and it was clear that the sign said Godric’s Hollow. Ernie knew where to take him when he said he wanted to go to the one place he could call home. His home…his parent’s home. With heart beating faster by the minute, Harry ran down the street hoping to find what he was looking for.

Finally, he came to a halt when he saw a small house that was partly destroyed; half of it was crumbled to the ground. Harry was shaky knowing what was standing in front of him, knowing what the walls would say if they could talk. Harry realized that the last time he had been here was almost fifteen years…He took a deep breath and pushed open the small gate. The stone path leading to the mossy, broken door was surrounded by tall grass. Harry felt shivers go up and down his spine as he drew closer to the house--an unknown mystic aura surrounding it felt half welcoming and half intimidating. The welcoming part was the knowledge that he had lived there with his parents; the intimidating part was the realization that murder had taken place there almost fifteen years ago.

He seized the door knob and pushed the squeaking door open. The sight was unbelievable. At least for him. The old furniture was cloaked with layers of dust, an old grandfather clock that stood next to a crumbled fire place had last moved its hands at fifteen past three. And the wall to his right was missing giving him a clear view of the crescent moon and stars above him. With all his might, Harry tried to imagine what the place would look like with everything neat and clean--along with an upright wall--and with his parents standing in front of him to greet him. But it was useless…he had no idea how the place might’ve appeared years ago.

Against his will, Harry’s eyes began to mist with tears; he tried to convince himself that it was all the dust doing this to him but when in truth seeing the place where his parents last breathed life was truly hurting him.

Harry explored the lower level of the house and found a small kitchen, a vast dinning room with a table that could sit up to twelve people and a library holding hundreds of dusty books. When Harry finally took everything he could from the lower level he went up the staircases to the first floor. There he saw rooms holding old, useless stuff both magical and muggle. As he walked deeper into the house he tried to decipher what his parents did when they were alive by the stuff they possessed. Suddenly, he felt attracted to a door as he strolled the inside of Godric’s Hollow.

When he opened the door he was met by vast a portrait room with empty portraits. Harry imagined that the portraits that once lived there had moved to other paintings knowing that the owner of the house were never coming back. Just when Harry was about to leave the room, a large, empty portrait that stood across from the door engrossed him for some odd reason. With slow, echoing steps Harry moved towards the portrait. The frame might have been dusty but the gold that it was made of still gave out a vague shine. At either side of the empty canvas there were two small shields that vaguely resembled the Gryffindor Crest

But sitting on a small mantelpiece in front of the empty portrait was a rectangular wooden box with the inscription “GG” in gold letters. At each side of the wooden box were two small notes. The note to the right read: May this be passed from generation to generation to the oldest of the children when the time is right. But as legend goes…only one will see its true secrets every five hundred years. To the left the other framed parchment that read: From Gregory Potter to his son James Alexander Potter. May this help you some day and be passed down to your children in the distant future.

Harry’s shaky hands seized the rectangular, wooden box with so much curiosity but when he tried to open the box, it seemed that it was doing its best to keep its secrets from Harry. Reluctantly, Harry gave up on opening the box but decided to take it with him to the rest of the tour for no apparent reason. As Harry continued his expedition he finally found the room that once belonged to him; his nursery. Part of the ceiling and wall were missing but it was clear that it had been here where Lily Potter had died.

“Mum…” A small whisper escaped Harry’s lips. As Harry remembered what James and Lily Potter were doing the last few minutes of their lives--James was trying to buy some time for his wife by fighting Voldemort-- he sat next to the crib with his Firebolt and invisibility cloak beside him. He wondered what he would do if he had the opportunity to see them…to speak to them. Or to change time for none of it to happen.

Hedwig, who had come into the house by the shattered window next to the crib, rested on Harry’s knee and looked at him with concern. Harry stroked her soft feathers as he held the wooden box with his other hand. He frowned as he remembered the unopened box and stared at it wondering what its secrets were. Hedwig immediately perched on his shoulder and stared at the box that Harry was holding with suspicious eyes.

As he touched the top it seemed to grow warmer. Suddenly, a small clicking noise was heard. Harry looked at Hedwig who only had a questioning look upon her white, feathery face. Slowly, his hand lifted the lid of the wooden box and a sweet yet depressing tone filled the room with an unknown warmth. The box only had a few trinkets, a small toy lion and a mirror in which Harry realized that as the song was playing, words began to display across its surface.

“So much to do…so little time.
Take your time…don’t be afraid.
Power sleeps within you…

If you give it form
It will give you strength.

Your path is set.

You have gained the power to fight.
Use this power to protect
yourself and others

Keep your light burning strong.
Your adventure begins at dawn.
As long as the sun is shining, your
journey should be a pleasant one.”

Before Harry could wonder if everything was a joke, voices began to fill his head. And then, as if he were in effect of a time turner, he saw as time went backwards. Suddenly, he realized that time was going backwards and right under his nose. He saw the dust disappear making the place more cleaner. He then began to laugh in a cynical tone as he saw Hagrid walk into the room with him (as a baby); as he placed him back to his mother’s dead arms; and as he walked backwards away…

Harry then saw as Avada Kedavra backfired; as Voldemort pointed his wand at him. With hot tears in his eyes, he watched as Voldemort killed his mother; as she begged him not to kill her son; Voldemort exited the nursery backwards back to murder his father and as she held her child with terror planted across her face; and then as she exited-- the same way Voldemort and Hagrid had done--to join his father.

Then more voices began to fill his head with their whispers.

As Harry wished, he saw his parents’ lives pass before his eyes. His saw as James and Lily played with him along with a young Sirius, Remus and Peter. As time continued to spin backwards faster, he saw his father who was five laid on his bed with a big grin on his face--Harry‘s crib was gone and replaced by his father‘s bed. Then the young James was replaced by a crying child and a couple who Harry believed it was his grandparents and his father who was merely a baby.

Minutes passed time continued to speed backwards faster clearly giving Harry a small hint of his family’s past. But suddenly Harry felt like he was in water and couldn’t breathe at all making all the images blurry. As he tried to catch his breath, he felt like something black was swallowing him whole along with Hedwig and the box he held on his lap. Harry’s head began to spin faster and the voices were now overlapped whispers. Hedwig hooted in pain; apparently she too was feeling what Harry himself was feeling.

As everything continued to go black around him, he felt strong pain take over most of his head and chest. The first thought was that he had collapsed to the floor hitting his head hard as he tried to catch his breath. While his second thought was that a chip from the ceiling had collapsed hitting him hard on the head almost knocking him out. Either way he was on his stomach and face first to the concrete floor below him. Luckily he was able to breathe again and a sudden wave of relief came over him. What had just happened was unknown to him but he was definitely going to tell Dumbledore about it.

With great struggle Harry heaved himself up and leant on the bookshelf behind him.

“Wait a minute…” Harry said as he turned and stared at the bookshelf. There wasn’t suppose to be a bookshelf behind him but an old, baby blue wall. Harry then realized that he wasn’t in his nursery at all but in a very large library. His head was aching and when he touched the part where it hurt the most, his fingers only felt hot liquid trickling down his left side. Blood. A sudden wave of sickness came over him and along with the sickness came a wave of confusion since he didn’t have a clue of where he was. When he rubbed his eyes he noticed that his glasses were missing but yet…he could see fine without them.

“Are you all right, My Lord?” Harry turned his head to the direction in which the sound had come from and felt a little confused as he saw the one who had addressed him…

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