A female silhouette was lying on a cold dusty floor, with spasms of pain racking her body. Her tortured cries reverberated off the dark room’s walls, as they became weaker and in shallower gasps. There was not much left to give from the almost lifeless form. She was dying.
A black clad figure stood menacingly over her, and smiled an ugly grimace. He had had his fun. He was now bored and he had other more important things to attend to. It was time to end it. Then with a flick of his wrist, a familiar and satisfying green light shot out from the end of his wand, penetrating his vision and washing the grisly scene from before him.
Harry Potter woke up, startled and gasping for breath. His teeth where clenched in pain, as he put a hand to his forehead, where a lighting bolt scar was etched. He tried to open his eyes, but quickly shut them again. The light from the lamp, on his desk was too much for his eyes to handle. So he just laid there among his twisted and sweat covered sheets, waiting for the pain to subside. After a few moments his breathing returned to normal and the aching in his head resided to a dull ache.
Harry had woken from another fitful sleep. He had just had a terrible nightmare. There had been a woman in the nightmare, that seemed familiar to Harry, but he could not quite place where he had seen her before. He rolled onto his side and looked at the clock on the night stand. It read 11:16pm. Harry sighed, as he tried to remember exactly what had happened, but the details where becoming murkier by the second. After a few more moments of trying to catch already fleeting thoughts, he gave up and sat on the edge of his bed. He propped his elbows on his knees, and placed his head in his hands. He sat like that, for what seemed like ages, wondering what the nightmare meant.
He wasn’t sleeping well at all, these days. There was just too much on his mind. Not to mention that his scar was hurting once again. Harry wondered, if he had once again been in the depths of Voldemort’s mind, but decided against this conclusion, since he hadn’t had a vision like that in over a year. Why would he be suddenly having visions again? It just didn’t make sense. Maybe he should start practicing Occlumency again, for whatever good it would do him. Harry wished he had someone he could talk to about it. Dumbledore was gone and he was the only person he could really talk to about his scar. A pang of sadness squeezed his heart, as he thought about his former headmaster.
It had been a little less than a month since the funeral. Harry kept replaying the events of Dumbledore’s death and the fight with Snape, over and over in his mind wondering what he could have done differently. It was this that motivated Harry’s resolve to learn as much as he could, so that he would be ready next time he and Snape met. Then Harry would get revenge for Dumbledore’s death.
Harry had been busy, keeping himself occupied since his return to Privet Drive, learning as much as he could from his small library of defense books. He even began a journal of sorts, so that he could keep track of some of the more interesting spells or potions that he ran across, as well as help sort out his tangled thoughts.
Harry lifted his head and looked at the chaotic mayhem that was his room. Clothes, books, and parchment where scattered all across the floor, bed, and desk. The latter was covered with ink stains and held a large stack of books, with titles like Dueling Tactics for the Accomplished Wizard and Advanced Spells for Defense Against the Dark Arts which teetered precariously on one of the desk’s edges. His bed was covered in a storm of parchment, most of which had either been pushed off onto the floor or near the foot of the bed, during his restless nightmare. Harry caught a glimpse of writing on a piece of parchment that was lying near his foot. Seeing it reminded him of what he had been doing, before he must of nodded off to sleep. It was a list of known and possible Horcruxes, including everything he knew about them, which wasn’t much. The search for the Horcruxes was constantly on his mind. He knew it was the first step, to finally defeat Voldemort, at least according to Dumbledore.
Harry jumped up from the bed and began pacing the room, in frustration. Everything was dependant on him, and his ability to defeat Voldemort, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure on how to do this. He had a vague idea, but that was all, an idea. It all weighed so heavily on his mind. He felt as if the weight of the world was rested squarely on his two lonely shoulders. The last thing he needed now, were disturbing nightmares that interrupted any possibility of getting a restful sleep. A scarier thought crept into his mind. What if they weren’t just nightmares, but something more?
Harry stopped in his tracks and kicked at a pile of clothes on the floor, near the desk. Underneath, revealed a large brown package. He smiled, despite his surly mood, as he remembered what was inside the box. He had received it a few days before from Fred and George. A note was attached that simply read…
Harry,
Give them hell on your last day.
Fred and George
At first, Harry was perplexed at what the note could possibly mean. He then opened the package and immediately understood the twin’s cryptic message. Inside the box was dozen upon dozens of the Weasley’s special new line of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. There where also a few other tricks and treats that Harry was a bit hesitant to explore, but from the looks of the contents of the box, the brothers where still going strong with their new inventions. Harry gingerly picked up what looked like the twin’s version of the dung bomb. The package read… fouler blasts, a new twist to an already great product. Only these last three times as long and are impervious to most vanishing spells. He grinned wickedly and imagined the possibilities of setting off some of the enchanted fireworks, just to see what would happen.
He could just see it now, a whirl wind of noise and light, from great red and gold dragons circling around his uncle’s head in the living room. Uncle Vernon shaking his fist and yelling at the top of his lungs, demanding that the bloody racket be stopped at once. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Aunt Petunia would be beside herself standing on a chair, gripping a broom, and swatting at the rockets that sprayed purple and blue stars into every corner of the room. As for Dudley, he would be hiding in a corner, whimpering and trying to squeeze into as small of a ball as possible, to avoid the unmanned sparklers and firecrackers dancing helter-skelter around the house.
As funny and as satisfying it would be, to see his relatives’ reaction to the magically enhanced fireworks, he knew he could never use them. First of all, the noise and light would draw too much attention from the neighbors. And even though it would be delightful, to see a dragon flying around the living room, spitting flames out of its mouth and defying his uncle at its mere existence. It would be a little difficult to explain to his muggle neighbors, if it was accidentally released out of the front door. Besides he really did not want to have to deal with the Ministry again. He was sure, that enchanted fireworks floating around a muggle neighborhood, would count as violating the Wizarding Secrecy Law. So instead of releasing the fireworks onto his unsuspecting relatives, Harry had set them aside to use them for another special occasion.
Harry bent down and picked up the package and starred at it nostalgically. He wondered if maybe he could at least get away with setting off a few fouler blasts in his room, before leaving it forever. Harry smiled, as he envisioned his aunt’s reaction as she stepped into the room. He then set the box carefully into his opened trunk, but not before pocketing a few of them.
Calmer, Harry sat down at his desk and picked up a book he had just started reading earlier that day, called Nonverbal Incantations: A Guide on how to use them and make them apart of your everyday spell casting. He had purchased the book several days ago from Flourish and Blotts by owl. Harry knew he needed help in this area and he figured that this was as good as any place to start, at least until he could legally do magic outside of Hogwarts, which would be in less than thirty minutes, according to his beside clock. In exactly twenty-two minutes, it would be his seventieth birthday. Harry grinned, as he turned back to his book. Yes, soon he’d be legal and he could finally leave this place behind forever.
A door slammed downstairs, and Harry woke up with a start. He slowly lifted his head and found himself still sitting at his desk. He must have fallen asleep again, but at least this time he didn’t have another nightmare. Harry squinted at the light coming from the window in front of him. From the look of things, it was well past mid morning. He straightened his glasses, on his face and turned to look at the clock it read 9:36am. Harry shot up out of the chair, knocking it backwards.
Harry had to hurry. He had overslept and they would be here soon to take him to the Burrow. He had arranged with Ron and his father, before coming to Privet Drive, to have them pick him up at 10:00am on the 31st of July and then they would go to the Ministry to take their apparition tests. “Almost time,” Harry thought to himself, as he finally finished packing all of his possessions into his overstuffed trunk.
Today was his last day with the Dursley’s forever. Harry was overjoyed at this prospect, but he was most excited about today being his birthday. This was not just any birthday, but his seventeenth birthday. The day he became legal, at least where the wizarding world was concerned, and that was all that really mattered to him. He could finally do magic, without getting in trouble, and that was the most exciting thing of all.
In celebration of his new found freedom, Harry did his first legal magic by getting himself ready and packing all of his belongings. This didn’t take long, since Harry didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings. All that he really owned, were the items he had purchased over the several years at Diagon Alley for school, except for the few things his friends had given him, including his most prized possessions his cloak, map of Hogwarts, and photo album.
Once done, he decided to wait in his room for his friends to arrive, instead of going downstairs. He did not want a repeat of what had happened when he first arrived at Privet Drive, several weeks ago. He had been avoiding his family since. Harry let his mind wander, as he remembered what had happened.
Harry remembered his first day back at Privet Drive, and as always, the first thing out of Uncle Vernon’s mouth, as he hauled his stuff out of the car and into the house was, “I don’t want any funny business from you, boy.”
Harry had just nodded his head in acknowledgement and carried his trunk over the threshold and up to his room. Once he had all of his stuff out of the car, Harry shut his door and hibernated in his room, for the rest of the day. He was in no mood to put up with his family. He knew it was important for him to be here. Dumbledore had told him, that as long as he could call this place home, he would be safe from Voldemort until his seventeenth birthday, but it still didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.
For the first two days, everything had gone smoothly, because Harry had elected to stay in his room most of the time, except for meals. On the third day though, Harry decided he needed some air. So he put his wand in his back pocket, slipped on his worn trainers, and walked down the stairs out the front door, but before he could get out the door he was stopped abruptly by his uncle.
“Where do you think you are going, boy?”
“Out for a walk,” Harry had replied, through clenched teeth. He had hoped to avoid this, but it seemed that was not meant to be. He just hoped his uncle didn’t make him do any more stupid chores. He was too busy doing his own thing. Besides, he had done enough chores over the years to more than compensate for his time spent here.
As if on queue, Uncle Vernon said, “Not before you pull the weeds in the front flower garden and mow the lawn.”
Harry shook with silent anger, before spitting out, “I’m not going to mow your stinking lawn!”
Uncle Vernon started to turn a dark shade of purple and shook his fat finger in his face. “Now look here, you ungrateful boy. You are still under my roof and if I say mow the lawn, that’s what you will do. It’s the least you could do since we give you a room to sleep in and food to eat, even though it’s against my better judgment.”
“Well don’t worry, Uncle Vernon. I’ll be out of all of your hair soon enough. I’ll soon be gone for good and you won’t have to put up with me any more. I bet that makes you happy doesn’t it?”
Uncle Vernon snorted, “It’ll be none too soon if you ask me. Good riddance I say.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” and with that, Harry had turned around and marched back upstairs slamming his door behind him.
He didn’t care, if his uncle got mad at him for not mowing the lawn. He had had enough of his stupid family and decided to have as little contact with them as possible, even if it meant staying in his room the rest of the time he was here. If his uncle decided to press the issue of chores, he could always remind him that the Order members were still expecting progress reports from him. That would shut him up.
Harry was knocked out of his daydreaming, by the sound of the door bell. He glanced at his clock, and it said 10:03. “They’re here!” Harry shouted, at no one in particular. He jumped up from his bed, gathered his stuff, and ran down the stairs, as fast as he could with his trunk and empty bird cage (Harry had sent Hedwig ahead to the Weasleys’) in tow. He wanted to get out the door as fast as possible, before his aunt rose too much of a fuss about having “weirdo’s” hanging out on her front porch.
Harry probably should have told her, that they were going to pick him up today, but he didn’t much care. He knew that since it was a weekday, his Uncle Vernon would be at work, and Dudley would probably be off terrorizing the neighborhood with his friends. So he knew he would only have his aunt to deal with, which was fine with Harry, in fact he preferred it this way.
His aunt was already opening the door, as Harry reached the bottom step. She let out a shriek, when she saw who was on the other side. Harry yelled to her “Aunt Petunia, they’re here for me. I’m leaving for good, so just stand aside and I’ll be out of here and you’ll never have to see me again.”
His aunt just stood in the doorway, looking at the two strangely clad visitors and whispered a small, “hello.”
A red headed youth waved to him, as Harry tried to push past his aunt, who was still standing in the doorway. “Hi, Harry. Need some help?” he asked.
“Let’s just get out of here, please,” Harry said, through gritted teeth.
His aunt, finally coming to her senses, looked at Harry’s possessions and replied, “So you’re leaving then.” Then she slowly backed away from the door to let Harry pass.
Harry’s only reply was to hand, Ron his bird cage and then he walked out onto the front stoop. He was about to walk down the side walk, to the Ministry car waiting for him on the curb, when he felt a firm grasp on his shoulders and a man’s voice say, “Shouldn’t you say a proper goodbye to your family, since this maybe the last time you see them.”
Harry looked at the hand on his shoulder, and followed the arm to the face of another red headed man though this one was much older than the first. “Yeah, ok.” Harry didn’t much feel like turning around and talking to his aunt again, but he did so reluctantly. “Bye then, thanks for everything.” He then turned around sharply, before his aunt had a chance to respond; dragging his trunk behind him and walked down the side walk of Privet Drive, hopefully for the last time.