Chapter Text
-8-
By the time he arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Harry felt better than he had when he'd last stepped off the express after the nightmare of a year he'd had the year before.
When he thought about what he'd gone through at that time…
Harry was just relieved he'd managed to escape from the graveyard when Voldemort returned, but returning to Hogwarts, having to retell his damned tale multiple times, like everyone just wanted for him to slip up, and lie about what happened, after a whole nightmarish year of coping with the hundreds of attacks from the students and teachers of all three schools taking part in the tournament, it was only thanks to his repertoire of dangerous and powerful spells he'd managed to fight back, but by the end of the year, he was at the end of his rope.
He didn't regret running away from Britain, from the Dursleys. Harry hated Britain; there was nothing here for him.
And besides, after the year he'd had, Harry knew if he hadn't gotten away when he had, using a compulsion charm on the Dursleys to sign away the permission form saying he could leave Britain; while he hated them, the Dursleys were his primary caregivers, and if any wizard asked he would need to show them proof he was on holiday by himself with their blessing.
He had known, if he had stayed, Harry would almost certainly have murdered the Dursleys.
Now he was back.
'Just one more year,' Harry thought to himself about his plans for the OWLs and the NEWTs. He had been declared an emancipated adult last year, unintentionally by Dumbledore and the Ministry, a massive victory in his plans for freedom, but the NEWTs and OWLs would be a greater victory.
While he'd long since begun hating the magical world, Harry Potter still loved the Hogwarts Express, even if he was sure the metallic red sheen of the steam engine was only put on by someone biased towards Gryffindor house. He checked his watch and the platform clock, seeing it was 8:45. He'd timed it perfectly, leaving his mother's townhouse in London, and he'd headed to King's Cross, a couple of hours before the train was due to leave. There were few people around, and that suited him perfectly fine. Harry boarded the train, found a compartment, and he sat down, warding it to prevent anyone from coming in and talking to him. He opened his trunk and he took hold of one of his books, and he began reading.
-8-
The Order of the Phoenix who arrived with Hermione Granger, and the Weasley children at the station quickly boarded the train, frustrated that they'd arrived with only 10 minutes to spare because, despite being told to prepare for school early, the Weasleys had always forgotten something, and they'd continuously gone back to Headquarters before they finally reached King's Cross, and Alastor Moody had to find the train crew and the guard, to let them know they had to keep the train in at the station for a few minutes, and gave them a letter from Dumbledore, permitting them. Dumbledore had needed to come up with a decent excuse for the delay, but the Headmaster had come up with one. In the meantime, members of the Order boarded the train and checked the carriages and compartments for any sign of Harry Potter, who'd gone missing before summer despite knowing he had to return to his relatives, the Dursleys for his own safety after Voldemort's return. Only Potter hadn't returned to the Dursleys at all, he'd actually disappeared, and when Dumbledore led a small group to Privet Drive to demand answers, the intimidated muggles had blustered when seeing the power of the wizards, wizards they couldn't intimidate at all, they hadn't known where Potter was.
Things went worse when the Dementors attacked the Dursleys, starting with their son, Dudley and his friends. All of the Muggle boys lost their souls. Delighted at the chance, the Dementors had then kissed several other muggles in the area, including Vernon and Petunia Dursley. By the time the magical authorities realised what was happening, it was too late, and the Ministry had a hell of a time trying to hush it all up and clean the mess up, Fudge had typically tried to shove the disaster under the rug and silence the witnesses, but it was one thing for the corrupt Minister of Magic to hide the fact he'd tried to have a man kissed, a man who hadn't even received a trial, trying to hush up the disaster left by the Dementors was something else.
And when it was discovered the Dementors had attacked the muggle neighbourhood Harry Potter lived on….
Fudge was in deep trouble, and the Minister had realised it too late. Investigators then made a horrifying discovery; there were years of abuse behind the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, with the Cupboard under the Stairs and the smallest bedroom showing signs of Harry Potter living there. Slowly, the news Harry Potter had been abused by the muggles was released to the public, and the magical world discovered his hellish childhood.
-8-
"There're spells on this compartment," Remus muttered to Sirius. He and Sirius had taken one end of the train, while Tonks and Kingsley took another, because they were the best qualified to speak to Harry, since Molly Weasley's overbearing nature made it extremely challenging and besides she didn't really have a good relationship with Harry anyway.
The dog whined, and sniffed before barking excitedly. Remus took that as confirmation, Harry was inside the compartment. It took the wizard a moment to undo the spell work, but when he did, the werewolf found himself with a wand pointed at his face.
"What do you want?" Harry demanded, his eyes hard, and it was only the view of the wand which stopped the massive black dog from leaping on Harry and licking his face in greeting.
Remus went still, for a moment he wondered if Harry would curse him. But then he saw the look in the teenager's eyes, and he saw for himself that Harry was going to curse them if they didn't give him a good answer. "We just want to speak to you, Harry."
"Really?" Harry sneered. "What makes you think I want to speak with you? The last time you spoke, you treated me as if you hadn't disowned me, or something stupid like that, even if you're not even related to me in the first place." Harry lowered his wand. "Alright, come in, but make it quick. I want this train to move. Speaking of which, why isn't this train leaving?"
"Ah, don't worry about that," Remus replied before they went inside, and he cast some spells on the compartment after sending the others a quick patronus message.
"I see," Harry's expression was unimpressed, and he sat down and waited for Lupin to finish putting wards on the compartment to stop anyone from coming in, or seeing the escaped convict that was Sirius Black inside, and on the Hogwarts Express. Sirius was still a wanted fugitive, still with the threat of the Dementors' kiss on his head.
The dog was shaking with anticipation, and once Lupin finally gave the all clear, a man with a beard was standing there, and he quickly rushed towards Harry…only to be banished backwards.
Sirius gave Harry a pained look.
"Harry?"
"Stay away from me, Mr Black," Harry warned.
"Harry, it's me, Sirius, your godfather," Sirius said, as if Harry had lost his memory or something.
Harry just gave him an unimpressed look.
"Oh, I know who you are, but I also remember how the pair of you sent me a letter telling me I wasn't your godson because I cheated my way into the Tournament, and now suddenly I'm your godson again, am I?" Harry said sceptically.
Sirius sighed. He and Remus had heard about Harry's involvement in the Tournament, and they'd been angry and disappointed Harry would endanger his life so recklessly like that, but they had quickly realised they had made a mistake when Harry had nearly been roasted alive by the Horntail during the First Task. But Harry hadn't sent them any mail, and it wasn't until they reunited with him at the end of the year, just when Voldemort returned the two men realised they'd made mistakes.
But they hadn't had a chance to speak to him, and truthfully, Harry had refused to speak to them in turn. During the summer, Dumbledore had pressured them to find out where Harry was, they'd sent him dozens of letters demanding that he get back in contact, but he hadn't. When the Dursleys were kissed and the revelations of what they'd done reached them, it had occurred to them both the scale of the mistakes they'd made. But truthfully, neither Sirius nor Remus could truly see that, due to their preferences to live their lives, they didn't have the time to cope with a teenager. He wasn't even James.
"You are my godson," Sirius pressed. "Your parents would have wanted-."
"Really, because I don't remember you taking care of me, and don't play the parent card with me; I never knew them, so stop telling me what two people I don't know, and stop using them like a spell to get me to do things I don't want to do," Harry shot back. It was a petty move, but he was so tired of these people meddling in his life. He had lived for a decade at the Dursleys, and now suddenly he had these people poking their noses in his life like they had always been there.
But if there was one thing he hated it was how so many people in the magical world seemed to think if they used his parents to make him do what they wanted, he would fold. It never happened. Harry had grown up hating his parents, which was exactly what the Dursleys wanted, he hadn't changed his opinions of them since.
"And what about when you got out of prison, you only got out because you saw a picture of Pettigrew, not once did you give a thought about me."
"That's not true, Harry, and don't speak to us like that," Sirius snapped.
"Don't tell me what to do as if you've been a parent your entire life, you gutless coward," Harry snapped back. "Just tell me what you want."
"Harry, you shouldn't have left, we would have protected you," Lupin spoke at last, deciding they had to hurry up now because they couldn't delay the train all day.
"Protect me? Oh yeah, like you protected the Dursleys, but I guess they didn't matter that much since I wasn't there. I heard what happened when I got back," Harry replied.
"And…how are you feeling?" Sirius's question was awkward, he looked scared even of the answer; he looked like he wanted an answer, but in Harry's eyes he looked like he was only checking a box.
Harry knew what he was asking, he just decided to play a game with him. "How am I feeling about what, Black?" He asked. "How I was dropped off on a doorstep late on a cold November night, without anyone bothering to knock on the door? How I spent my childhood in a fucking cupboard and turned into a House Elf by filthy muggle animals, while the bastard wizarding world did nothing and didn't bother to check on me, only for an old bastard to play games with my life. And where were you both? Oh yeah, one of you was thrown into Azkaban because you focused on Pettigrew, and the other cared about his sob story about being a werewolf. Boo-hoo. There are hundreds of people who are werewolves on this planet. Some of them probably have harder lives, but many of them likely have businesses that work around their curses, they just have to grow some balls, that's all."
Lupin stiffened, and Black glared at Harry.
"That was unfair, Harry."
"Lots of things are unfair. Do you really think I'm bothered about being abused? I'm proud of my upbringing because it taught me who I can trust, and you are not the people I trust. I never have. I don't trust Dumbledore, or that pathetic Order of yours. Oh, I know about that, too. What made you people so fucking sure I would bow my head and go where you sent me, after Voldemort came back? Like I was ever going to do that, the year I had."
"So where did you go?" Black asked.
Harry shrugged, not seeing any reason not to tell them the truth. "I travelled to the Caribbean, Brazil, China, all over the place. For the first time in my life, I was happy," Harry smiled to himself, remembering how he had travelled to the Caribbean, starting to learn SCUBA diving, and learning some traditional Caribbean dishes and having fun at parties, like a normal teenager before he travelled to Brazil, spending a few days exploring the Amazon basin, close but not too close to the Brazilian school of Castelobruxo, before he'd travelled to Tahiti, visiting the other Polynesian islands and learning a few things about Polynesian traditional navigation and culture, before he travelled to Australia for a few days, and learnt a few things about Aborigine traditions and cooking, before he'd made the journey to India. "And now I'm back here," he added unhappily.
"Harry, why did you leave? I'm still having trouble understanding why you left, why?" Sirius asked.
Harry couldn't believe it, for a moment he thought he'd misheard. "I had just faced a psychopath, who's powerful," he snapped, steel entering his voice. "He overpowered me. And on top of that, I was fighting for my life the whole of last year. I was hexed, cursed. I was kicked out of my own House because everyone was tired of everything happening to me, and they led a boycott against me. My own Owl was nearly killed and plucked like a chicken! I had had enough of the magical world, and I was not in a good place, and if I went back to the Dursleys, chances were the Dementors kissing them wouldn't even have been necessary. I had to escape, and damn the consequences. If you still can't understand any of that, that's your problem. I'm not wasting my time anymore," Harry said as he remembered the decision he'd made to escape Britain. He'd thrown himself into the idea. He was mentally exhausted after spending a whole year dealing with the Tournament and the way he was treated.
-8-
Harry sighed with relief when he walked into the Room of Requirement, absently cancelling the invisibility and notice-me-not spells he'd placed on himself to let him come here without being noticed as he left the hospital wing. He'd had enough of Madam Pomfrey hovering about, but what he'd really become tired of, was how Dumbledore and his lackeys visited the Hospital wing so much that he didn't understand why they walked out in the first place.
They'd been all demanding, asking him to tell his tale of how Voldemort came back in the graveyard, to go over the entire story of what he did to get to the centre of the maze, from charming his feet to help him leap over the top and run across the hedges towards the centre, avoiding Hagrid's monstrosities altogether, but Harry had the feeling some of them were trying to get him to talk so they could catch him out in a lie. He had hoped to have some sleep, but he hadn't gotten it, so he'd come here for peace.
He had snuck away from the Hospital Wing, leaving a note to say thanks to the nurse before leaving, casting spells on himself to get rid of Dumbledore's bothersome tracking spells and to cast invisibility spells on himself.
Throwing himself onto a couch provided by the Room, Harry sighed in relief.
But sadly, sleep was impossible; his brain was still spinning around and around, but it had been for months as he'd wrestled with himself about what he was going to do, and he was still too wired from the fight in the graveyard, and from handling the cursing and bullying this whole year to relax properly.
He was burning out, at the end of his rope, and he knew Dumbledore would insist on him returning to Privet Drive, but Harry had researched the blood wards on the place, and he knew they were useless now because Voldemort had his blood, thanks to that ritual. So what was the point of becoming a sitting duck?
Harry spiralled as he lay in the Room of Requirement for the next 3 hours, his mind churning with what ifs, memories of what happened over the year, how he was kicked out of the dorms, how everyone turned on him, how Hedwig was almost killed…and all the time, Dumbledore would just twinkle those fucking eyes at him, while the teachers joined in the carnage, how Voldemort returned, and how he just wanted to give up on his plans to just get his OWLs and NEWTs, and escape this fucked up world once and for all. His wind whirled around and around in a loop, but he knew one thing; he couldn't go to the Dursleys. But it took a long time, and during that time he must have fallen asleep, because he found himself groggily waking up, and while he was still wired, he was more relaxed to think straight.
And he came up with a plan. He was going to run away from the magical world for the summer, find some way of getting permission to leave the country from the Dursleys in case magicals asked questions, and then he would have the best summer ever. He needed time to think, to get away.
Harry spent the rest of the day working on his plans for how to get away.
-8-
Once Black and Lupin left, promising to stay in touch, although Harry knew they probably wouldn't unless it was to check a box, the pair of them saw him on the periphery of their own pointless lives, and the Hogwarts Express was allowed to go. About time, too, since the students and parents still hanging around on the platform were beginning to ask uncomfortable questions. But if he never saw Black and Lupin again, it would be too soon.
Harry sat back in his seat, reading his book, eating from the lunch box he'd bought along for the ride, thinking about the coming year. Thanks to the summer, he'd had more than enough time to relax, and he had seen a therapist to help him handle the whole mess, and he'd recovered in ways he never could, if he'd bowed his head. But he wasn't looking forward to this year, since he knew this was his last year.
But he had a plan for dealing with Voldemort, and he was looking forward to developing it.
He had been helpless when Voldemort captured him for the ritual; he was going to make the Dark wizard pay for what he'd done. He didn't care about the war, about the magical world, the muggle world, he was doing it all because he knew Voldemort would never stop coming for him, so his reasons were purely selfish.