When he slowly awoke, he didn't open his eyes. Carefully, he stretched out his legs – his feet weren't hanging over the end of the bed; that was a good sign. Gently, he brushed his hands against the sheets – they weren't course and scratchy; another good sign. The final test; he tipped his head to one side and listened carefully – no sound. 'Yes,' Harry thought to him-self, 'I'm safe.' Harry was home, he was at Grimmauld Place.

When Harry had washed and dressed, he made his way down to the kitchen. In the kitchen the three members of his household were hard at work. After a cheery 'Good morning' he was given a wonderful breakfast, after which he sat back and thought of the last thirty-six hours.


Things had not been good at Privet Drive. School had finished early because of what had happened at the Ministry, including the death of Sirius Black and proof that Voldemort had finally returned.

After another long, tiring day doing to many chores, Harry was sitting in his 'room'. His room was a small junk room that no one else would even consider as a bedroom. With its wobbly chest of draws, a wardrobe with a door hanging off and a small sagging bed. Harry sat there thinking the events that had occurred. He made a list of what had happened – back as far as he could remember.

Wormtail – life debt

Tom was back – used Wormtail (hand), father (bone), Harry (blood)

Malfoy acting odd – not looking to good either

Moody – not Moody

Blood Wards – 4 Privet Drive

Connection between Tom and Harry – scar?

Harry sat back and looked again at his list, he quietly started to pace his small room, and he looked again at his list. No, how could it be, it couldn't be, could it – with him not even being able to use his magic? It was another two weeks until his birthday and even then he would only be sixteen. He was a sitting duck – what was the Headmaster thinking? Quickly, he gathered together his belongings (there were precious few,) into his trunk.

Harry looked at his battered trunk thoughtfully, would he be able to carry it far enough? Or fast enough for that matter. He lifted the trunk - just – and opening the lid, he looked inside. Was there anything that he could leave behind? Harry knew that anything that he left behind would be destroyed, just as soon as the Dursleys realised he had left. What could he do about Hedwig?

On the side of the desk was an old twisted paper clip. He opened it up and stuck it into the cheap pad lock that Vernon had put on Hedwig's cage. Hedwig hooted to him softly. With a bit of fiddling, he opened the cage door.

"Out you come, girl," he whispered.

Harry set her down on the back of the rickety chair; she stretched and flapped her wings as he wrote on a scrap of parchment a note to Ron.


Meet me at Snuffle's house tomorrow, on your own.


"I'll have leave your cage here," Harry sighed – Hedwig gently nipped his fingers.

"Give this to Ron Okay? Give it only to him. Stay at the Weasley's tonight – you can join me tomorrow, all right?"

It was hard for Harry to exclude Hermione, she had been his friend for nearly as long as Ron, but Harry had found out just before the summer started that she had only been his friend because he was the 'boy who lived'.

It had happened quite by accident. Harry had overheard Hermione dictating a letter to the Department of Mysteries. It was after their fateful trip to the Ministry. As Harry was walking back the Griffindor Tower after speaking with the Headmaster, he passed several empty classrooms, from one he heard a voice that he recognised. He was about to enter when what was being said actually registered.

"…So it is with great respect that I ask the Department of Mysteries if there is anything that I can do to help you. As I have explained before, I was able to lead a group of students through the labyrinth, whilst fighting Death Eaters. I feel that my experience is will be invaluable to you.


Hermione Granger.

AKA, the brains behind the boy who lived."

Harry was confused – what was Hermione playing at. It was then that he heard her muttering to herself.

"That should do it. It will raise my credibility as a Muggle born and a Witch in one foul swoop. I bet that this will get leaked to the Prophet. It is about time I get some recognition. The boy who lived! Not for much longer."

Harry was devastated was that really what she thought. Deciding to leave it for now he hurried back to the dorms.

Harry carried Hedwig to the window. There he gently squeezed her through the gap of the locked open windows and let her go. Well, that was one less thing to carry. What else could stay? After a rummage in his trunk Harry came up with a pile of odds and ends of parchment, a couple of bits of rubbish and a few old magazines he had been given. There were several old, odd socks with holes in them, a couple of worn out t-shirts and a trainer. The year two set of Defence against the Dark Arts course books by Gilderoy Lockheart. Not much, but it made a difference. He was ready.

Quietly he waited; Aunt Petunia would be up soon to unlock his door so he could shower and use the bathroom. Harry could hear her coming footsteps coming up the stairs – he was ready – he would have to be quick and quiet.

"Boy, you have five minutes to be back in here or else."

She unlocked the door and gave it a push.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry replied.

He was ready. As soon as he heard her turn and walk towards her room he opened the door. He turned back, putting his wand in his pocket, his jumper on and, covering the trunk with his invisibility cloak, he picked it up and headed for the door. Down the stairs he went and with a quiet 'Goodbye', he let himself out of the house. Walking as quickly as he could, he headed across the park. He passed the now empty playground and formal flower gardens onwards towards the old park keeper's area. In the dwindling light he could just make out the unused road.

When he reached it he put down his trunk and collapsed on top gasping for breath. When he was sufficiently recovered, he held out his wand and waited. The Knight Bus arrived with its customary screech. Once on board and with his fare paid, Harry felt he could relax. Well, relax as much as you can whilst sitting on a bed and swaying backwards and forwards and side to side. With a bit of a struggle Harry emerged from the bus feeling nauseous. He just had to get around the corner and finally, he has there.