Harry Potter opened his eyes and found himself in a spacious room. Looking around, he saw the most magnificent fireplace he had ever seen. It was constructed with what looked like the same magnificent white marble that Professor Dumbledore’s tomb was constructed of. The mantle piece on the fireplace, constructed of the same marble, had extremely detailed engravings of a lion, a badger, a raven, and a serpent. Looking to his right, Harry saw a square, stone table with four chairs, and to his left, what appeared to be four body-length mirrors, all of which were framed in what appeared to be solid gold.

Harry, walking slowly, made his way towards the great stone table; it seemed to be pulling him closer, beckoning to him… As he came closer to the table, he woke with a start. Harry Potter was no ordinary boy, not only was he odd in the fact that he is a wizard, but Harry Potter was also marked by the most feared wizard of the time, Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort had killed Harry’s parents, Lily and James Potter, and when he turned his wand to Harry, his curse backfired and Lord Voldemort lost all of his powers.

Harry, glasses askew, looked over towards his bedside table to the clock that he had fixed himself several years before. It was exactly one minute after midnight on July thirty-first, his birthday. Harry got out of bed with a start, straightened his glasses, and moved to the end of his bed, where is trunk lay open. Peering inside, Harry found, for the first time, that all of his things were actually neatly packed inside. Harry bent down, picked up his want, and flicked it in the direction of his trunk, which quickly shut itself with a snap.

Harry walked over to his wardrobe and from within, pulled out his Firebolt. Harry knew that this day would come, the day that he would no longer be protected in the Dursley’s house, so for months, he had been contemplating leaving on his seventeenth birthday. Even though the Dursleys had made Harry’s life miserable for the past sixteen years, he still knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to the Dursleys because he still remained in their home. So, Harry had devised a plan with Ron and Hermione.

Harry knew that he could obviously not leave the Dursley’s home to intrude on Ron or Hermione’s homes. Even a large family of fully trained wizards would be no match for Lord Voldemort himself, let alone a pair of Muggle dentists. No, Harry knew that the only place that he could go, the only place that he could be safe, was Hogwarts. Dumbledore or no Dumbledore, Hogwarts was still the safest place for Harry, and he knew it. Even if Voldemort did somehow find a way into the castle, Harry would have the Maurader’s map, he would know.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak off of his desk, flicked his wand at his trunk, concentrating very hard on ‘locomotor trunk.’ Harry’s trunk lifted gracefully into the air and began to follow him as he walked down the stairs, making sure to skip the annoying stair that squeaked, and walked through the kitchen and out of the back door. Harry let his broom hover beside his waist, the compass that came in the broom servicing kit that Hermione had given him was fixated on the end of the handle. Harry waved his wand once more, and black ropes erupted from the tip of his wand, one end wrapping around his trunk several times and the other, wrapping around the end of his broom. Harry mounted his Firebolt and tossed the invisibility cloak over him and his trunk and kicked off from the ground.

The wind rushed across Harry’s face and through his hair. A sense of calm came over Harry, it was incredible, how much he missed the wonderful sensation of flying. After soaking in a few seconds of absolute calm, Harry turned his broom, slightly to the East, leaned forward slightly, and jolted off in the direction of King’s Cross Station. Harry did not know the exact location of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he did know that if he followed the tracks from King’s Cross, he would be able to get to Hogwarts without a problem. After all, he and Ron had done the very same thing in their second year with the flying Ford Anglia that they had stolen from Ron’s father.