Hidden Secrets

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It was too much for Harry to comprehend. His eyes closed and his body crashed to the floor ...

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A sharp poke tapped his cheek. It tapped several more times before Harry finally opened his eyes. Without bothering to swat at the bird who was pecking at his cheek he sat up letting it fly away. He just sat there silently listening to the noises around him. For a moment he thought it was just a horrible dream ...

However, as he collected his thoughts, took note of his wounds and realized where he was, it all came back to him. He saw something he shouldn't have, he's being hunted and everything he knew was a lie. Now the question was what does he do?

With the sun up he could see more details than before, namely the dried blood on the ground. His eyes lingered on that spot for the longest time. The answer finally came to him and he stood up. Despite being unsteady for a moment he soon walked all the way to the Dursley's home. With a push the gate opened and he went right up to his shed. After pausing a moment to silently stare at the note stuck to the door he went in.

In a daze he grabbed an extra flower pot and put the hair chalk, contacts and makeup in it. Next, he set the pot aside and grabbed all the clothes he took. Save for the orange scarf, which he wrapped around his neck, he folded everything neatly and piled them on the pot. After picking up the pot he grabbed the bolt cutters and started walking.

Again he paused as he made it to the street. There were the neighbors walking, joking, playing or doing chores like always. This time he ignored them and continued up to a house with an old man sitting on the porch. He never knew the old man, but years ago he bragged about being a hunter in his prime. It was only once and never again. Perhaps the Dursleys killed him right after to prevent any unwanted ideas, but Harry remembered and if the old man wasn't lying that means he probably has gear Harry could use.

The old man didn't even glance at him as he set the flower pot on the porch next to him and went to the side gate with the bolt cutters. A quick squeeze of the handles the padlock snapped off. Making a quick trip back for his flower pot first he had everything and went through the gate. Judging by the broken back door the old man put up quite a fight before being reduced to ingredients for a potion with ghostly side effects.

Harry dropped the bolt cutters on the lawn and walked into the house. As he stepped over the dried blood patch he looked around the place. At first it didn't look like much was even there, but then he spotted a crooked bookshelf. If he had to guess by the blood the old man tried to go for the bookshelf, grabbed on and was thrown across the room, but why go for the single wall mount bookshelf?

Curious, the young wizard set the flower pot down on the floor and took a closer look at the shelf. It seemed like any other shelf. Innocent books lined up neatly and two basic wooden bookends that were carved to look like horse heads. Harry did hear something strange as he slid the crooked shelf so it was straight again. It was soft, but he definitely heard metal sliding. A thought struck Harry and he slid the shelf so it was crooked again and then a little farther. To his surprise the shelf stopped and he heard a click. Without any other leads he pulled on the shelf as if it was a door handle and it opened a hidden room.

Apparently, the surprises weren't done with him because what he found in that room was nothing short of stunning. From floor to ceiling were weapons of all types. Display cases with guns, knives, brass knuckles and a block of something labeled C4. This, by the way, was only the stuff in the front of the room. Who knew what was in the crates and racks in the back! Truthfully, Harry wanted nothing more than to shut the door and forget he saw anything, but he needed some things including weapons. After all, knowing what he knows now he doubts that his wand wasn't just locked away. They were too cautious to leave his wand behind normal muggle locks, right? It suddenly strikes him as odd that he never tried to get his wand or even his homework. Something must've been done by that family he lived so long with.

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