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Harry Potter
The boy sat in his room back at the Dursley in silence; after the year ended, Harry had been accompanied by Ron and Hermione on the train as usual, but this time during the ride, a student from Hufflepuff named Susan Bones entered their door, with a bunch of other students behind her.
They apologized to Harry for doubting him during the year, accusing him of attacking the other students, saying they felt bad and wanted to make amends; the young wizard simply told them it was no problem.
Soon they left; one thing he noticed was Hermione sticking up to him more than the last year.
"Father, Mommy," Hermione shouted at her parents, waving at them with her hand; Harry smiled at the pretty picture before him. Hermione was hugging her parents close; he felt a sudden pang on his heart, eyes welling up, but Harry swallowed a huge breath, stopping himself from crying in such a public place.
I wonder if my parents would come like this for me too? Would I have had any siblings if that night had never happened? Would I have ever known the Dursleys, he thought; his hand became a fist, the nails adding pressure into his skin but not enough to draw blood.
"Harry," he escaped his thoughts when he heard Hermione calling him, looking at her, she was telling him to walk toward her; Harry saw the way her parents were looking at him, they were curious and pleased; Harry mentally felt relieved, he would have known if their eyes showed something else.
"This is my friend Harry Potter; Harry, these are my parents," Hermione introduced himself; the young wizard extended his hand, shaking her father's hand first, a strong grip.
"One good grip, son," her father said with a smile before leaning closer. "Hermione can't stop talking about you; she said you were her favorite best friend," he spoke with a sly smirk.
Harry chuckled, already liking the man, while Hermione moaned in annoyance. "Daddy,"
"Is true, Harry, Hermione can't shut her mouth once she starts talking about books or you," her mother added with a giggle; Harry laughed a bit, and so did the father, all except Hermione, who was blushing furiously, swearing never to have her parents near Harry again.
Soon they said goodbye to one another; Harry soon found Vernon waiting for him with an ugly snark. All the happiness he felt a moment ago disappeared immediately, reminding him where he would spend the majority of his summer.
Entering the car, his eyes moved to the door, about to shut it with his hand, when it closed on itself; thankfully, Vernon didn't notice it or would throw a feat about it.
Now, Harry was reading his books, it had been two weeks since he returned from Hogwarts, and the first thing he started to notice was how certain things would happen just by him thinking about it; the book in front of him was wide open, the young wizard just needed to want the page to change, and it changed, while that was nothing revolutionary, Harry wondered how far he could go with this.
One thing he hadn't noticed yet was his eyes would have a golden shade whenever he did something like that, the more powerful it was, the more his eyes would turn from green to gold before going back to the usual green when he stopped using it.
His eyes moved to the window of his room, so far, he had been able to make things go to his hand or away from him, but it was simple; now he wondered if he could do something more complex. Focusing on the handle, not a second later, the handle moved, the window flew open, allowing a gentle breeze to flow inside, a smile erupted on his face, and it seemed whatever he was doing didn't alarm the ministry since they hadn't barged in his room demanding answers on why he was using magic outside of school.
Harry didn't know why but every time he thought of them, his blood would boil, but he didn't know Why? He didn't know anyone there and certainly didn't have any personal vendetta against them.
His mind turned to the window, his green eyes noticing a bird singing on a tree branch almost a hundred meters away. The bird had an unusual purple tail, his wings as red as blood, and his beak was a deep black, with beautiful blue eyes like the ocean; the bird looked directly at Harry.
The young wizard smiled, wanting the bird to come closer; perhaps a song from nature itself would do him good to lift the spirit. Surprisingly, the bird flew away from where he was, landing on the handle of the open window; another gentle breeze flew inside.
Harry slowly walked up to the beautiful bird, so slowly that one would think he was staying in one place; the wizard didn't want to scare him away; halfway through, the bird flew again, this time landing on his shoulder, green eyes meet blue eyes, with his thumb he caressed his little head gently, he left out a beautiful melodic sound.
Harry chuckled, his heart filling with warmth; this was one of his happiest moments with the Dursleys, perhaps second place, since the first place would always be when Hagrid barged into the door; that night, he found out he wasn't as worthless as he had thought.
Harry slowly sat back on his bed; the bird chirped, and the boy enjoyed the sound, noticing the bird was looking around the room, perhaps hoping to find something to eat.
"I'm really sorry, I have nothing here," Harry apologized with a downcast look, he thought the bird would soon leave, but he left only when Harry told him to go when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from downstairs.
The bird flew away, leaving Harry already feeling alone; the door opened, letting out an annoying metallic sound that made his entire body shiver.
"Your breakfast, boy," his aunt spoke with a sneer, putting it on a table; Harry paid no attention. Instead, his mind thought of something.
"Aunt Petunia, I want to go to Godric's Hollow, to my parents' house," Harry spoke without thinking; after saying that, he was surprised with himself that he had just said that, almost like his lips had moved on their own.
Her face paled, white like milk, her eyes widening slightly; he could see what could be described as pure fear in her eyes, making her look older than she actually was, her hands moving around the handle of the door as if not knowing if she should leave the room or not, her eyes looked sad for a brief moment, but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.
Harry, for a brief second, noticed someone standing in the room with them, but when he turned to see the figure, it wasn't there anymore. Am I imagining things now?
His attention turned back to his aunt. She opened her mouth to speak, yet no words were spoken, not even a whisper; after a whole minute of absolute silence, she noticed the open window; walking there, she closed the window, looking outside instead of Harry.
"Why?" Her low voice was heard, almost as if she was talking to herself rather than Harry.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why do you want... to go back there?" She questioned, turning to face Harry, her eyes cold like ice, her lips pursed together into a thin line, almost disappearing.
"...I want to see the house of my parents; I need to see what is left of it," he spoke with resolve, his eyes looking back at her.
She released a deep breath; her eyes moved away from his green eyes, and her mouth twitched as she swallowed a huge breath.
"I don't want to go back there," she whispered to herself, but Harry heard her all the same.
Finally, looking up at Harry. "Very well, but only for a few minutes," she spoke almost in a hurry before leaving the room almost immediately, not caring if Harry wanted to say anything.
Later
After grabbing the car's keys, Petunia told Vernon she was sending Harry to a hospital to check on him about something. The man told her not to be late as they left.
Harry pretended his stomach was in pain all the way to the car; after they left, the wizard looked at his aunt, who almost looked lost and confused, as if she didn't know what was happening. Knowing she wouldn't care to hear anything from him, he kept his mouth shut throughout the whole ride.
Not that he wanted to talk with her about anything.
Harry noticed several times; she almost looked ready to say something, opening her mouth several times, yet not once did she say anything; the silence and the sound outside was the only thing they could hear.
After an hour of driving, they soon reached the place Harry had read about the place, Hogwarts: A History gave great details about that night 13 years ago. He knew quite enough about it.
It was a small community which centered on a village square with only a church, a post office, a pub, and a few retail shops. The residential streets were lined with quaint cottages; there was an area called Church Lane that led up to the church.
Of course, for the Muggles, this place had a different name; stopping the car, his aunt told him to get out.
Harry opened the door and stepped outside; the place looked sad in a strange way. Looking back, he saw Petunia looking afraid of the place as if she could see or feel something he couldn't; walking a few meters away, he looked around, but nothing looked familiar to him.
He was about to ask her if she wanted to stay inside when he heard the engine's sound; looking back, she turned the car around and drove away.
Harry didn't even try to chase after her. Instead, he scoffed; I should have known, he thought, thinking of himself as stupid for thinking that she would actually do something good for once, but in a way, he was thankful; he was where he wanted to be.
With that out of the way, Harry walked through the empty streets of the Godric's hollow; he saw many houses looked outdated as if they were made a long time ago, the streets made of small blocks.
Walking and walking, he soon reached a church and the graveyard; graves were everywhere, all looked the same to Harry, but his eyes found one that caught his attention. He suddenly felt a thrill, unsure if that was fear or excitement.
Walking closer, Harry saw a memorial, several birds chirping around it. As he had passed it, it had transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms.
Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents' faces. He had never imagined that there would be a statue... It was strange to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead...
His eyes drew to his mother's. Would he have lived in this place, would she wake him up every day to not get late, would she and father buy gifts for him? So many questions popped into his head, and Harry closed his eyes, whispering a prayer before walking away.
Not daring to look back. As he walked through the streets, his head felt heavier whenever that was because of where he was going or because of what he might learn; the young wizard didn't know.
He didn't know how, but in a way, he knew where to go, like a whisper in his ears, telling him secrets that only he should know.
Reaching the end of a road, he took a left turn, and that's where it was, just like in his dreams, of what once was a beautiful house now was only a ruin.
The house looked the same as in his dreams, but instead of happy noises coming from the house, he was met with silence; the door was still lying on the ground as if no one had touched the place since that night.
Harry eyed the stairs, slowly walking upstairs, his eyes saw inside the house, in his dream, his father was lying unmoving on the ground right at the door, he could almost see him, closing his eyes, he walked inside, the place was a mess, several pictures had fallen from the wall, the paint of the wall had started falling off, spider webs were everywhere across the ceiling and corners of the house, it didn't feel like a home, it felt like a graveyard, a big one.
This should have been my home, he thought bitterly, closing his eyes; he could almost see them, he could even smell it.
He saw his father showing him how to fly a broomstick for the first time, laughing together, his mother preparing his birthday cake, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Hedwig, everyone would have been there, singing him 'Happy Birthday,' he could see it, clearer than a memory, how much he wanted to be there.
Opening his eyes, dark and alone, they weren't there; no one was here expecting him, nothing but the cold of House and the silence. Harry felt a hot tear burning his cold cheek.
He walked upstairs, a room he knew well from his dreams; he could almost hear her screaming, begging to show mercy. The door was half broken, barely hanging by a metallic piece in the doorway.
Opening wide open, the crib was still there; even the dolls and toys were still there, some hanging above the crib.
"Mommy,"
Opening his eyes with fury and anger, he let out the loudest scream he could muster, cursing Voldemort to burn in hell; the whole place started shaking as he collapsed to the floor.
Harry didn't know how long he stayed there, it didn't matter, but he remembered why he came here; standing up, he brushed off the dirt from his clothes.
Walking downstairs, he reached the living room, a red carpet that mainly covered the entire room, looking at it, wishing for it to move away; just like that, the carpet was yeeted in the air as an invisible force pushed it away.
He could feel something down there, focusing on it, and the whole floor broke down, causing the wood to start cracking before it broke into pieces.
Now in the middle of the room stood a hole, stairs that led under the house, the stairs and walls made of grey stone.
Taking a step forward, the torches attached to each side of the wall burst into flames; walking, walking, the deeper he went, the more he felt a voice calling to him.
Soon he reached the end, a door on the stone, the door looked normal, made of wood, the handle had a strange green color.
Harry's hand gripped the handle, opening it; the torches inside burst into flames as he walked inside; in front of him stood a large desk with letters, books, and strange magical tools; the right side of the wall had books from the top to bottom.
In the center of the desk was carved a symbol he had never seen before; the symbol looked like a sword and a falling star shining on it.
Suddenly a voice was heard.
"If you're here, that means you carry Potter's blood; only your blood can go through the traps.
My son, if you are here alone, that means I'm not there to explain everything to you.
The voice he had never heard before, yet felt familiar in a strange way. Father, he thought, his eyes widened as the message started talking again.
If we are not here with you. I hope at least Sirius is with you, don't listen to him, my son. He once convinced me to pull a prank on Dumbledore, of all people, and almost was expelled from that; the old man would have slipped in the staircase if it wasn't for his many years of experience. The voice said before chuckling; Harry joined in with a broad smile on his face, imagining Professor Dumbledore falling from the stairs.
"Son, if I'm not there, that means I failed as a father and a husband; I know mere words won't fill the hole you might have in your heart. But know that me and your mother love you more than our own lives. Always remember that whenever you are alone and need help. I only ask that you surrender yourself with friends, and when the time comes, find someone that makes you Happy. On the desk you will find a letter from your mother, she will explain something you must know about your blood, our blood. Love you, James Potter.
The voice stopped, and Harry was left with tears flowing from his eyes to his cheeks, dripping into the cold floor; it took several minutes for him to get a hold of himself. The desk opened, revealing a book inside, with the same symbol as the desk, a scroll sealed with wax nearby.
Harry wiped away the tears with his sleeve, picking up the scroll first; he broke the seal, opening the scroll, he read the letter, and his eyes widened.
"My son, after you read this letter, burn it and tell this only to people you believe with your life. The book will teach you everything about Holy Magic...
Later
Harry didn't know how long he had stayed in that basement, two hours, ten hours, days, he didn't know, but once he walked upstairs, it was pitch black outside.
Using a magical bag, he put inside all the books he thought he needed. It helped that despite having so many books inside, the bag barely weighed anything. He put the lightweight bag in his back pocket; looking at the mess the house was in, he murmured, "Reparo."
Everything started returning to normal; he knew no one lived there anymore, but he didn't want the whole house to look like this forever; within a minute, everything was back to normal.
Harry managed a small smile, leaving the living room; he walked through the corridor; the moment he stepped outside, he saw Professor Dumbledore just standing there on the road.
"Professor?!"
The old wizard didn't answer; instead gestured for Harry to follow him; walking downstairs, he followed behind without much thought.
"Why are you here, Harry? Did something happen with your relatives?" Dumbledore questioned concerned.
"No, I... I just wanted to see my true home; Aunt Petunia drove me here and left the moment I walked outside the car," Harry said with a shrug, not caring that his aunt had left.
"Fear perhaps," Dumbledore murmured to himself, unsure if it was fear or petty jealousy. Perhaps it didn't matter at the end of the day.
"How did you find me, Professor?" Harry questioned him, his voice a bit demanding. Something the old wizard noticed but didn't comment on it.
"I have people that look after you, Harry; they told me you left the house with your aunt and where you were headed," Dumbledore explained, a hand going through his long beard.
Harry wanted to ask if he had known all this time how his "relatives" treated him but decided to ignore that now for now. But just the mere thought made his blood boil. With the many books he had, he wanted to spend the entire summer reading them, and going back to his relatives would be a problem.
"What now, professor?" Harry suddenly asked, looking at the old wizard, who paused for a moment before turning to Harry.
"I'm afraid you should go back, Harry. Is the only home you have-" "That's not my House. They're not my Family," Harry interrupted, his voice almost accusing, dripping venom from his voice, louder with each word he spits out.
Dumbledore felt the atmosphere getting colder; if he didn't know any better, he would say they were in the middle of Winter; the only thing missing was snow. Taking a deep breath, he spoke calmly.
"Perhaps, but you need to stay with them; you're young to live on your own-" "No," Harry interrupted, this time his voice lower rather than louder, which was more intimating.
"I don't need to live with them, professor. I know several places in Magical world that have apartments. I can live on my own," There was so much more he wanted to say, but right now, he didn't feel like shouting at him.
Dumbledore thought of ways to change his mind but knew the boy wouldn't change it, and he definitely didn't want to force Harry into it. That would be a good way to antagonize him, which could easily result in what he feared the most.
Diagon Alley, perhaps he could find a room there, plenty of apartments; I know many that would happily give him a good room; with that thought on his mind, the old wizard left out a breath before nodding in agreement.
"Very well, Mister Potter,"