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Prologue: Leaving Hogwarts
22nd of November 1994.
‘Desperate to earn himself a bit more fame.’
‘Of course, ‘e is lying.’
‘He’s jealous.’
‘Determination to break rules.’
‘Want a hanky, Potter?’
“’He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here.’
‘You can tell me the truth.’
‘Potter stinks!’
‘Really enjoying all the attention.’
‘Stop! Stop! Why can’t you just stop?! Arghhh!! I just want to sleep!’
~*~
There is a reason that sleep deprivation is classified as a form of torture by the United Nations. Prolonged sleep deprivation can have significant impacts on mental and physical health. Increased confusion, irritability, anxiety, depression, and paranoia are all symptoms, and a severe case can lead to psychosis and death. The official world record for the longest time without sleep stands at nineteen days. For Harry, it had been twenty-one days.
In the days since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, Harry had been hexed, spat on, threatened, and humiliated. His best friend was ignoring him in a fit of jealous rage and nobody would listen to what he had to say. Only six people believed him when he said he hadn’t entered the Triwizard Tournament and so far, none had been able to find him a way out.
Every time he highlighted just how ridiculous his situation was, he was told the same thing: he had agreed to a binding magical contract. Those whose names had come out of the Goblet of Fire were bound to compete, there could be no change of heart; any attempt to do so would lead to the loss of his magic.
Well, he hadn’t agreed, and he didn’t think it was fair that he could lose his magic because someone else had entered his name. As far as his (limited) understanding was, in the Muggle World you couldn’t be entered into contracts without your consent, and he didn’t see why this wouldn’t also be the case in the Magical World. No one would explain how this magically binding contract worked.
Instead, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody, had just told him to accept his fate. His name had come out of the Goblet and so he had to compete or become a Squib. Harry acknowledged that they probably understood the situation better than him, however, that wouldn’t stop him from trying to find his way out of it and he had roped Hermione into researching magical contracts in the library.
But each day without a solution had increased Harry’s anxiety and brought an increased sense of urgency as the First Task drew closer. This, coupled with the mounting hostility he was facing from the other houses and schools, meant that Harry’s time at Hogwarts was the worst it had ever been.
So, for the last twenty-one days, Harry had struggled with sleep. Gazing up at the velvet curtains night after night, whispers looping through his mind, comments of his detractors playing over and over, Harry tossed and turned. His lack of sleep was not helping the situation and as time sped up the closer he got to the 24th of November, the more his symptoms of sleep deprivation worsened.
The mood swings and irritability had been expected. The only benefit of having hundreds of people hate you was that he wasn’t expected to engage with them in the corridors anymore. The forgetfulness that came soon after was frustrating and had led to a loss of house points in Herbology for handing his homework in late, though that could have been because Sprout was holding a grudge. He’d noticed the tremors the other day, and he was hoping they’d settle down before he had to make up his antidote lesson in Potions.
He knew that hallucinations were the next step and right now he wished that that was the case. That what he had seen in the last few hours was just the result of the severe lack of sleep but that was not the case.
Dragons.
The First Task was dragons.
Viscous looking, fifty-feet high, with spikes and horns and torrents of fire, and Harry was expected to get into an arena with one. Charlie had said that whoever got the Horntail would be facing the biggest challenge but even the smallest one looked like it could kill him in five different ways.
Was the Ministry insane? What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Bagman had said the First Task was designed to test the Champions’ courage in the face of the unknown, but this? This was insanity! Wasn’t this version of the tournament supposed to be safer than the last one?
Harry wished he hadn’t paid attention to Hermione’s rants about the previous death tolls because that’s all he could think of at the moment. It didn’t help that he had Moody’s declaration that someone wanted him dead in the back of his mind. At the time it had been taken as the paranoid ramblings of a highly suspicious man but now, well Moody’s pronouncement was seeming more and more likely.
The fireside chat with Sirius had also not helped. Whilst it was always good to talk to the man, they had been unable to discuss the dragons in any depth. Learning that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater had not made Harry feel any safer, but it was the knowledge that Sirius had had to run for it at the end which was making his anxiety worse. He was hanging by a thread and the possibility of Sirius being captured had ended any possibility of even an hour’s sleep. And so, as he watched his curtains shift from black to grey to red as the day started anew, Harry spiraled.
‘How long d’you reckon you’re going to last?’
‘Everythin’ seems ter happen ter you, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s no one fault but Potter’s.’
‘Zis little boy!’
‘Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it.’
‘Die for it.’
…
‘Die for it.’
‘Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it.’
While Harry tossed in his bed trying to figure out a way to quell his growing panic, the dorm stirred to life around him. The sound of curtains being pulled, the rustle of clothes being laid out, and the quiet mumbling of his dorm mates, faded in and out, mostly ignored, never acknowledged, until the sound of his name interrupted Harry’s musings on death by dragon.
“Should we wake Harry?”
“No, why should we?”
“Ron-"
“Neville, I caught him up late last night practicing for his next interview!” said Ron scornfully. “The prat can starve as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’m sure that’s not what was happening.”
“It doesn’t matter, he made his bed, now he can lie in it,” said Ron.
“I really don’t think he did it.”
“Sometimes, you really are too trusting Neville, how you ended up in Gryffindor, I’ll never know.”
“Seamus, that was uncalled for,” said Dean.
“Right, sorry Nev, but really, that Prophet interview just proves that he did it, why he keeps pretending he didn’t I’ll never understand.”
“I just think that maybe we should-”
“Look, we’re going to breakfast now, come with us, or don’t, but I’m going now.”
Slowly, Harry heard his dorm mates leave the room, one lingering for just a few seconds longer, before leaving him alone, again. The overheard conversation had increased his anger towards Ron and the others but had highlighted what he had known for a while: Harry had no one.
Harry laid in bed, pondering his plan for the last few days of his life, and decided to skip breakfast in the Great Hall, he wasn’t really hungry anyway. He did think he should probably go to the library and attempt to find something to deal with dragons in two days’ time. Maybe he would get lucky and find something that would help him to survive the First Task. Then there would only be two to go.
Harry wondered what fresh hell he would be faced with in the Second Task, and then it struck him, this wasn’t going to end. Every year something like this had happened.
In his first year, his house had turned against him because of some lost points and then he had almost died at the hands of Quirrell and Voldemort.
Second year had everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin and attacking Muggle-borns, and he had been ostracized for the majority of the year. He had almost died, again, this time as the result of a basilisk.
His third year had been his best and for the majority of it, everyone thought he was the target of a killer out to murder him. He also spent the year listening to his family’s last words as they were murdered; this had led to him almost dying again as he fell from his broom. Plus, it had ended with him running away from his werewolf teacher, and barely escaping hundreds of Dementors.
And this year, well, it was shaping up to be his worst one ever.
His entry into the magical world was supposed to be his escape from his miserable existence on Privet Drive. Instead, it was beginning to feel like he’d never left.
Why was he still here?
He wasn’t enjoying it. His grades were slipping because of the stress and lack of sleep. His best friend had turned on him, and his other one was playing mediator, acting like he was also in the wrong for refusing to beg for Ron’s forgiveness.
The rest of the student body was attacking him left, right, and centre. His headmaster was avoiding him, his other teachers ignoring him, or in the case of Snape, ruthlessly taking points off him, and encouraging the bullying of the Slytherins.
The wider world had also turned on him thanks to Skeeter and he was being inundated with hate mail, which for some reason, the school wards weren’t keeping out.
Just yesterday, he’d visited Hogsmeade under the cloak, pretending he wasn’t there just for some peace and quiet. It was like the summer before second year all over again. He was just waiting for Vernon to show up reminding him to stay in his room, make no noise, and pretend he didn’t exist. He was over it. He should just leave.
That thought gave him pause.
Could he leave?
Could he really do it? Could he really leave Hogwarts?
Well, he could. The actual leaving part would be easy. He had his Invisibility Cloak, the Map, and his broom. He would just need to time it right and sneak into Hogsmeade using one of the passages. So yes, he could leave.
Could he risk his magic to get out of the Tournament?
He didn’t actually enter so he should theoretically be safe. Right? It was a big risk, was he willing to take it? He’d lived without magic before so he was sure he could adjust to not having it. Maybe he could speak to the goblins? Or maybe the healers at St Mungo’s? Or a lawyer? Maybe they would be able to help him out?
Would him sneaking out of Hogwarts before the task count as him breaking the contract, or would skipping the First Task be the thing that triggered it? He wasn’t sure, but if he left soon, he could check in at Gringotts and get their opinion. If they said he had to compete he could always come back before the First Task. Could he risk it?
There were too many possibilities, too many ways it could go. He’d need to think on it more, though Gringotts was seeming like a good option regardless.
Where would he go?
He couldn’t go to the Weasleys, they’d send him right back to school.
The Dursley’s would take one look at him, back six months early, and lock him straight in his room. He’d be lucky to make it to Christmas.
What he needed was an adult he could stay with.
Remus wasn’t an option. He’d left Hogwarts in June and hadn’t really been in contact since.
Sirius was still on the run. He’d only just come back to Britain, and Harry didn’t even know where he was. He also wouldn’t be happy with Harry potentially losing his magic, he wouldn’t think the risk was worth it. But, if Harry did join him, they could make up for lost time. They could also leave the country. Nothing would be keeping them here. Would Sirius be ok with this? He knew Sirius was reckless, but would he support a 14-year-old Hogwarts drop out? Harry wasn’t sure.
Still, Sirius seemed like the best bet. Harry could send Hedwig just before he left to him suggesting a time and place to meet. They could reunite and then sneak into Gringotts to see if the goblins could help him figure this whole situation out.
When would be the best time?
He’d need to leave before the 24th. If he was too close to the school on the day on the task, he could be found. Plus, if he wanted to get the goblins to check over everything, they’d probably need some time. In that case, he needed to leave sooner, rather than later.
He’d need to figure out a way to stop people from realizing he was missing until the morning of the First Task. That means tonight would be the best time to leave. He’d need to set the scene before this evening.
Maybe he could fake a panic attack, make it seem like the stress of the First Task was getting to him. He could then tell everyone he was going to the hospital wing to see Madam Pomfrey. They’d think she’d kept him in for a while. Hermione would be the only one who would check to see if he was there tomorrow, and she had so many classes that she wouldn’t be able to do it until the afternoon. If he wasn’t there, she’d just assume he’d left. She knew he hated it so wouldn’t question it too much. When he didn’t show up for the First Task she’d panic and raise the alarm but by then it would be too late.
If he left tonight, he’d need warmth and light to make the journey easier. He’d probably need to find some spells in the library to help him out.
Flying would also make the journey easier, and safer. He wouldn’t be able to fly all the way to London on his broom in the time frame that he had, especially if he wanted the option of coming back to compete, assuming he was magically bound.
He could fly for a few hours and then meet Sirius, and then they’d be able to apparate to London. Though the Floo was also an option as Sirius had proven quite adept at breaking and entering. So, Floo or apparition, both viable options to get into London on time to see the goblins tomorrow morning.
Harry would need to check out a map to see how far he could get on his broom and to give Sirius a heads up about where to meet but that is something he could figure out this afternoon.
He’d need to leave most of his stuff here though, so he’d need to pack carefully. Just the important items. He’d probably also need to take some food for himself and Sirius just in case something went wrong.
The longer Harry plotted his escape from Hogwarts, the more viable it seemed, and he found his hunger returning. Deciding that he was going to mull over the plan a bit longer, Harry got up and dressed, and made his way to the kitchens for a light breakfast.
~*~
As Harry made his way out of the kitchens, he walked head first into someone.
“Watch it, Potter!”
“Malfoy, hi, sorry,” Harry mumbled.
The apology seemed to throw Malfoy for a second before he responded, “yes, well, what are you doing skulking around Slytherin territory?”
“I wasn’t skulking! I’m just leaving the kitchens; I had breakfast down here.”
“Famous Potter! Too good for the Great Hall!”
“No, it’s more that there’s too many people like you there,” said Harry, bluntly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” exclaimed Malfoy.
Instead of answering, Harry just leant forward and pushed on the ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ badge pinned to Malfoy’s chest, ‘Potter Stinks!’ flashed at him in green.
Understanding dawned on Malfoy’s face. “Right, well, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t have breakfast with the rest of us Potter. You look appalling! You’d have put everybody off their food.”
“Cheers for that Malfoy. Just what I wanted to hear! This whole meeting has just really made my day” Harry replied sarcastically.
“No need to get snippy with me, it’s the truth. You look like death warmed up. Have you slept at all since Halloween?” asked Malfoy.
“No, not really. You try sleeping when all you can think about is the casualties from previous Tournaments,” said Harry. “Hermione wouldn’t stop going on about them before the announcement. And now, it’s all I can think about. I was hoping it wouldn’t be so bad this year but now knowing about the dragons, I know I’m screwed.”
“DRAGONS?!” shouted Malfoy. “They’re making you face dragons?”
“Ah, pretend you didn’t hear that, I’m not supposed to know,” said Harry.
“I can’t believe they’re making you face dragons!” exclaimed Malfoy. “I also cannot believe you just spoiled the First Task for me.”
“I didn’t mean too Malfoy, it just slipped out. Can you just let it go?” pleaded Harry.
“It depends, what can you tell me about the dragons?”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, “You’re saying that if I tell you about the dragons, you’ll let this whole thing go?”
“Yes, yes, of course!” said Malfoy. “Do you know what types they had?”
“Um, well, they were all really big and there was like a red one with gold spikes, a green one with shiny scales, a silvery-blue one with long horns and a black one with bronze spikes on the tail.”
“Chinese Fireball, Welsh Green, Swedish Short snout and a Hungarian Horntail,” answered Malfoy.
“That sounds about right,” said Harry, impressed with Malfoy’s knowledge.
“I spent a lot of time reading about dragons as a child,” Malfoy replied. He looked at Harry thoughtfully, a smile breaking across his face, “Ha, I knew I was right when I said you wouldn’t last ten minutes. You’re doomed!”
Harry took one look at the expression of joy that had appeared on Malfoy’s face at the thought of the First Task and turned to walk away.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going Potter?” called Malfoy.
“I came down here to get away from this kind of crap. I don’t have to listen to you get all excited about my potential death, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go contemplate my last few days on earth away from you!” snapped Harry.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so hard done by, Potter, you asked for this when you put your name in the Goblet,” replied Malfoy, scathingly.
“You think I WANTED THIS?! YOU THINK I ENTERED?!” yelled Harry as he turned back towards Malfoy. “I wanted NOTHING to do with this stupid Tournament! I don’t need the money. I definitely DO NOT want the fame. You think I wanted to end up in ANOTHER life and death situation? Don’t you think I’ve had enough!” ranted Harry. “I just wanted a normal year. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to be able to focus on school and quidditch. Instead, I’m being hounded! By YOU! By the other houses, the other schools, random people who keep sending me owls. I DON’T WANT THIS!”
By the time Harry had finished, he was standing toe to toe with Malfoy, who looked stricken by what he’d had to say. Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but Harry realized he didn’t want to hear what the Slytherin was thinking.
Spinning on his heel, Harry went to leave a second time, but paused just before the corner. “I hate it here right now. I was so excited to find out I was a wizard. That day I met you at Madam Malkin’s, that was the day I found out about the magical world. I couldn’t wait to come to Hogwarts, to escape my relatives who HATE me, but right now… right now I wish Hagrid had never found me,” Harry whispered.
“Harry…”
“Bye Malfoy, remember to choose something other than lilies for my grave when you go to dance on it, it’s so cliché.” And with that, Harry walked away.
~*~
As Harry made his way through the tunnel into Honeydukes, he reflected on his last day at Hogwarts.
After he’d left Malfoy speechless in the kitchen corridor, he’d made his way to the tower and then owlery to send a note to Sirius with Hedwig. After that, he was off to the library where he’d promised to meet Hermione.
Filling her in about the dragons, had led to hours of frantic research. Book after book, they searched trying to find a spell that Harry would be able to use. Lunch and dinner came and went and as each successive book failed, Harry used the increasing tension to help feign a panic attack.
By 9pm, he had managed to work himself into such a state than when he suggested he needed to visit the hospital wing, Hermione didn’t question him at all. Instead, she promised to keep looking, and fill him in on anything she had found the next day.
He suggested that it would probably be best to have that conversation after classes tomorrow, as he was probably going to kept overnight. The look she gave him after he’d made that statement was full of such concern, that he pulled her into a tight hug. She had been his only bright spot these last few weeks, even if she was harassing him about Ron, and he wanted her to know how much he appreciated her before he left.
“You’re the best Hermione. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” said Harry earnestly.
“Stop talking like it’s the end of the world, we’ll find something. I promise. We just need to find a spell, and obviously there is one, otherwise they wouldn’t have set this as a task. We can find something Harry. Don’t give up just yet,” she replied. “Now off to the hospital wing, you definitely need to see Pomfrey, you’re not looking great.”
“Night Hermione, don’t stay too long.”
“I won’t. Night Harry.”
After leaving Hermione, Harry made his way to the statue of the one-eyed-witch. He’d stashed his most important possessions here earlier, so he could make a quick escape without being seen. He pulled the Map out of his pocket, made sure the coast was clear, and then hopped into the dusty passageway. He popped on his bag, and his Invisibility Cloak, grabbed his broomstick and was off.
The journey to Hogsmeade was quicker than he remembered and soon he was at the trapdoor to Honeydukes. As he made his way into the shop, Harry prayed that there was no intruder alarm. After waiting to ensure he wasn’t going to set anything off, Harry opened the door, crept out and relocked it. After readjusting his bag, Harry followed the road to the border of Hogsmeade. As he reached the edge of the village, Harry turned around to take one last look at Hogwarts in the distance.
Lit from behind, by an almost full moon, Hogwarts loomed over the surrounding countryside. Lights in the castle twinkled like stars in the night. From the forest, a colony of bats rose from the trees, hunting fireflies that flickered in and out around one of the gardens near the greenhouses.
From where he stood, Hogwarts looked so striking, so steadfast, that Harry wondered, for a second, if he’d made a mistake. He’d not been gone long; no-one would have noticed he’d left and for a second he wavered in his conviction to leave. A light breeze rustled the hedge on his right, and a cloud drifted in front of the moon, blocking the light, breaking his thoughts. A shiver ran up Harry’s spine and as he dithered, desperate to come to a decision he remembered something Dumbledore had said to him in his second year.
‘It is our choices… that show us who we truly are.’
Harry had not had the chance to make any choices for himself this year. And with that thought, Harry made up his mind and mounted his Firebolt. Making sure that his Cloak was wrapped around as much as possible, he shot up into the air. With one last look at his school, Harry wiped his eyes and took off, flying south, his final whisper, so quiet it could be mistaken for the wind.
“Goodbye Hogwarts.”