Harry had spent the summer thinking and re-examining what he now knew about everything. Reluctantly, he came to the conclusion that the Dursleys were right. He had no friends and never would have any. Ron and Hermione were clearly keeping other students at arms length while they allowed only those they liked or who were most like themselves in their intent to be around him to get close to him. Example; Ginerva but not the twin Weaselys. Just in case Harry see through their charade of friendship by discovering what true friendship was really like. And with the games Dumbledore kept setting up for him every year and the way he was under isolation restriction, Harry didn't have either the time or the heart to try and make any real friends. Not any more. He had tried over and over again and at two different schools in two vastly different worlds. Friends, like family, seemed to be something he was just destined not to have.
His Aunt and Uncle had watched him muddle through things for about two weeks trying their usual bluster and spitting their hatred at him but getting little to no response from him in return. Finally, Petunia had asked him what was going on. He had tried not to tell her, figuring she really didn't want to know since she hated the world of magic so very much and it would be impossible to tell her anything without using terms and words that had long been forbidden in this household. While she might enjoy knowing that world saw him the same way she did, she definitely wouldn't appreciate him using words off her personal forbidden list to tell her.
But she'd insisted one too many times and he'd finally lost control and yelled at her. He was so miserable his temper was too close to the breaking point to prevent it snapping. So he yelled at her as he never had before. Yelled in rage and pain so intense, she'd never experienced the like of it before. He'd stood there in the kitchen, his hands bunched into tight fists at his side and eyes bright with an inner fire that they'd never seen before. Electricity audibly crackled between the spikes and curls of his wild and out-of-control hair shooting off visible sparks as his magic responded to his rage. His body was shaking with the strength of his emotions and the effort he was exerting in trying to keep his control over them, as he yelled and screamed at her. She watched in both awe and terror, finally coming to understand just how repressed he actually was and how very much he was keeping bottled up inside him lest someone do him harm for daring to feel something they didn't believe he should.
Tears had finally broken through his walls to pour from his eyes. But he was unaware as he unleashed over a decade of forced suppression, rage, pain and bitter disappointment. With her. Her family. The neighbors here. His so-called friends. The school. And the world. Harry Potter was angry at and disappointed with everyone. She had simply stood opposite of him and listened to his tale. Not once did she even attempt to interrupt him or discipline him for his language or for yelling and crying, which had long ago been forbidden him in this house.
Honestly, he was so hurt and angry, she could do nothing but listen as he poured out the story of the last three years and all the deaths he felt responsible for just because he existed. Just because the adults had decided he didn't have the right to be alive at all. He told her she should be happy now that she knew the Wizarding World saw him as worthless too. Just like her, they thought his life had no merit and was theirs to waste in any way they saw fit. Just like her, they thought he should've died that night when his parents had died and since he hadn't, he'd no right to complain if they chose to send him in against a madman or two that they didn't want to deal with themselves. Or even a monster or two unprepared and unarmed. After all, who the hell would miss him if he didn't survive whatever they were too damn scared to face themselves? For certain, she sure as hell wouldn't since one of the first things he could ever remember hearing her tell him was to go die somewhere and leave her the hell alone. Hell, she'd probably throw a party if she got a notice he'd died over there. Then go on a vacation just to make sure she'd celebrated the event correctly.
She flinched as she heard those words because she could see now how very much she had hurt him with them and knew from the things she'd said over the years he had every reason to believe she'd see his death that way. She wouldn't. But he didn't know that. But hearing him repeat those words about dying in a ditch somewhere. Words she knew she'd told him. The very fact that he remembered them told her she had hurt him. She also remembered that incident and knew he hadn't deserved it. He'd been five and was telling her Dudley needed new art supplies for school because he knew Dudley would forget to tell her. And the teacher would get mad at Dudley for not having them which would upset Dudley. And an upset Dudley was always bad for Harry and expensive for Petunia. But she'd been in a bad mood and had taken it out on him. Because that's what her family did.
He ranted and raved and never noticed his Uncle and Cousin standing in the doorway listening to every pain filled word of condemnation, self-hatred and over-whelming sorrow. Old wounds they'd never realized they'd given him poured from his mouth in an angry tirade impossible to stop or deny. Because Harry's magic was making all three Dursleys remember just when said wounds had been given. He never even noticed when he collapsed on the floor in a huddled heap, bawling his eyes out still muttering the words of poison that had been festering inside his psyche for all these years. So deep in his misery he had forgotten where he was. His Uncle had picked him up and for once carried him gently to his bed when it was clear he wasn't going to make it there on his own.
From that day on, his relatives attitude towards him changed. Petunia made sure he ate at least twice a day and Vernon only gave him make work to do to keep his hands busy while his mind tried to deal with all the crap that had been thrown at him that even adults would've quailed at dealing with. Dudley just left him alone, as his parents had told him to, and found other things to do with himself that didn't include tormenting his cousin. He still didn't like Harry and chances were he never would but the torment Harry was dealing with from his school was far more than anything Dudley and his crew could do to him. So he left him alone and kept his friends from adding to his burden for the rest of the summer.
For his part, Harry once again took an unscheduled trip to Diagon Alley to visit the bookstores and purchase new reading material. This time he wasn't researching any previous events or creatures. Or even the laws of the magical society. This year all he was looking for was material to learn that could derail his thinking processes enough to let him rest. He got books on runes and warding as well as spellcrafting and arithemancy. He knew he wasn't taking those classes but the subject matter interested him. Heck, warding and spell crafting weren't even available at Hogwarts.
He also paid a visit to the bank to discover exactly what his financial standing was and whether or not he had enough funds to actually get through Hogwarts and set himself up somewhere after graduation. He'd discovered he had inherited the Black Estate from Sirius because Sirius had named him as heir after he'd been named as Harry's godfather when Harry had been born. Which only confirmed Sirius truly was deceased. That had also led to the revelation of his status as heir to the Potter estate and the little known status as heir to the old and all but forgotten estate of the Evansleigha accounts.
Those accounts had come to him via his mother because the Evans line was a squib line established around the turn of the century. A daughter of the Evansleigha family had been injured in an accident depriving her of most her magical core. Because the injury had occurred during her act of saving the son and heir to the line she was repaid by having her name formally changed and the new name added to the family line.
His visit had also uncovered his connection to both Godric Gryffindor and Ignotus Peverell though there wasn't much of anything to be claimed from them. Harry already had the cloak and had made use of the sword though he didn't possess it. When he was old enough he could claim their seats in the Wizengamot chambers. But those were all that was left of their former Estates. He did however claim the rings that went with both old names. Just as he claimed all the other heir rings for the estates he was heir to. That each ring had protections woven into it so as to protect the heir who wore it was only a bonus as far as Harry was concerned.
But the one thing Harry now knew beyond any doubt was that he could easily afford to finish his schooling and take care of himself after graduation. It no longer mattered what happened during his remaining school years. He had the financial ability to disappear as soon as he finished school and nothing anyone said or did could change it. And that was exactly what he planned to do.
...
Harry had found both his Aunt and Uncle waiting for him to tell them what new horror he had been forced into dealing with this year and not really believing they truly wanted to know but unable to not tell them after the way they had reacted the previous summer, he'd slowly spilled out the story of his fourth year to them.
Sitting around the little round table in the pizzeria Vernon had taken them to for dinner, Petunia had surprised him by asking,
"Harry? Who do you have left in your life for Dumbledore to take away? You said you're no longer friends with that girl or the redhead family. Your godfather was taken away before you ever got to know him as were the other two remaining comrades of your Father. You said he tried to kill your owl this year and she's not even human. Which tells me anyone left is somehow untouchable currently. But it doesn't tell me who they might be. So who's left?"
Harry set his slice of pizza down and took a mouth clearing sip of his soda before replying. He'd laughed hollowly and told her point blank. "The three of you and Hedwig. I think Lupin is still alive but since I'm not supposed to know that, he might as well be dead. Pettigrew is also still alive though if I'm right, he won't be for long. Nor could anyone possibly think he's someone I'd care about or be close to seeing as how he's the one who betrayed Mum and Dad. I've no one else who could be considered close by anyone's standards. Nor will I ever since I know exactly what would happen to anyone I tried to get close to. I won't knowingly make a target of people just because my enemies don't see value in human lives any more."
"The three of you are only targets because I stay with you during the summertime. Not because the three of you have ever really been all that close to me. Not to anyone who really knows us anyway. But over there, they have this idea that family is always close. Even if they themselves aren't close to their flesh and blood kin. Or have family members they wouldn't cross the street to greet. To them, the fact that you've kept me all these years, proves we're close no matter how many times I've said we don't like each other. And no, Uncle I've never said anything but that we don't like each other and I'd prefer not to return here since you don't want me to. They don't listen. Because you do take me back, you tell them I'm lying to them and we're closer than I want them to believe we are. So that qualifies the three of you as potential targets for that evil old madman."
Petunia had shared a very nervous but grim look with her husband as they finished their meal. Dudley had tried to swipe Harry's slice of the pie while he was talking and Petunia absently slapped his hand for it with her cutlery causing him to howl in outrage while Vernon just growled at his son to leave Harry's meal alone. Unlike the rest of them Petunia always ate her pizza with a knife and fork instead of her hands. And she always ordered a salad to go with it. Surprisingly, she also ordered one for Harry though not for either Vernon or Dudley.
Vernon thought his words over very carefully for the next week. Then he went to the bank, a realtor and his boss. By the end of June, the Dursley's were gone. Not even Harry knew where they had gone to.
All he knew was if Dumbledore wanted to make them disappear, as he had everyone else Harry might have had a tie to, he was going to have to find them first and if he knew his Aunt and Uncle, they wouldn't make finding them easy. Because while he knew they couldn't give a rat's fart in an alley about him or his welfare, they did care about Dudley. Dudley was their world and they'd do anything and everything they could to protect him. No matter what, or who, threatened him.
Both Petunia and Vernon had tried to tell Harry they weren't so much abandoning him as they were doing their duty as parents. They owed it to Dudley, they said, to do what they had to in order to insure Dudley got to grow up. But the end result was the same whether they intended it or not. He was left here while they disappeared. The house was now his. Legally his and his alone. His uncle had signed it over to him as compensation for their leaving him to deal with the freaks on his own. He'd apologized and admitted he knew the house and land was small consolation for being left out in the cold like this. But Dudley was his son and that was the bottom line. He had to protect his son. And at least he'd have a place to live as he learned to survive without adults to provide for him. He completely ignored the fact that Harry had been pretty much doing that all his life.
So now, three days before he was due to show up at King's Cross Station and board a train bound for Scotland that only a very small percentage of the population could even see, he was sitting in his backyard on top of a huge rock under the sheltering branches of a heavily laden fruit tree contemplating what he wished to do. He knew the house here was his. His Uncle had arranged that before the family had fled the country through very obscure methods. And it was now considered to be a part of the Potter Estate. A hidden part but still a part of the Estate.
Harry knew the family couldn't openly cross the borders of England without triggering alarms within the magical community. He wasn't at all sure where all those alarms were located or whom they'd alert when they were triggered. But the family had gone to Ireland, Scotland, Wales and even to Majorca before so they all knew it was clearly possible for them to leave.
And once they got out of Britain, who was to say when or if they would return? Just because you made travel plans with an itinerary, a beginning date and a returning date didn't mean you had to actually abide by those plans.
As good as Dumbledore was at controlling his playing pieces, he couldn't have the entire border of four or more different countries completely monitored. Not when there was free flowing water between them. Besides, who was to say the family hadn't only been going on another of their vacation or business trips? He'd have no way to know when to expect them to return. So there was a better than average chance they'd succeed in their bid for freedom.
Petunia had stocked the house with everything Harry might need to survive until it was time for him to return to the school. All of them knew his chances of being able to return to Privet Drive after this summer were slim to none. But they planned as if he'd still be in need of the house anyway. The chances of the disappearance of the Dursley trio going unnoticed for a full year weren't very high. Especially when Dudley never showed up at Smeltings.
But it's what they were all hoping for. And they did know there was a chance, since Harry didn't ever return here during school breaks and never spoke to anyone about his summer if he could avoid it. He only ever came back here during the summer when he had no place else to stay. And considering what he'd told them of his life in that world, his life there was even worse than the life they'd given him here. So there never was a choice of where he'd spend his summers.