Expelled - Harry Potter Fanfic (REWRITE)

Chapter Seven

Harry stared at what he had done for a second before getting up and running out of the building. He scooped up his cloak, threw it over him, and didn't stop running until he was a good seven blocks away from them. Throughout that time, he didn't see a single soul. He didn't really expect it this late at night, though.

Harry slumped into an alleyway, trying to catch his breath when he heard the shrill sound of sirens and watched as an ambulance flew past, heading in the direction Harry had come from. Heart beating rapidly, he reviewed what to do next and where to go.

Staying with Ms. Figg would be too risky to both her life and his. Vernon would tell anyone and everyone that his 'no-good nephew' was the danger and had stabbed him in the chest. The police would then investigate the neighbors, including Ms. Figg. Going back to Grimmuald Place would be a good idea, although the Order had made it pretty clear that they didn't want Harry around them, especially once they come poking and find out that Harry was an attempted murderer. He can't escape to Hogwarts, being an expelled student. Obviously, he's not going back to the Dursleys.

The safest choice would be to run away, simply not for the death at his uncle's hands, but for his uncle's death at his own hands. He watched the ambulance speed back by him, so perhaps Vernon was not dead yet.

Harry stood back up ten minutes after the ambulance sped by, checking his bag and being relieved when he found all of its contents intact. He knew by now that he would not get that head start he was relying on. The Order would certainly be there to investigate what had happened and where Harry had gone.

He began to make his way to the nearest city, hoping to catch a train, and then he remembered that he had left his trunk still at Grimmuald Place, along with his broomstick. Hopefully, they wouldn't think to deliver it while the police are there.

When he reached the subway (encountering no one on the streets), he bought a one-way ticket to the edge of the city. During the trip, Harry thought of where he could go once again, looking at outside options this time. Eventually, he decided that Stoatshead Hill, where the Quidditch World Cup was held the previous year, would be safest and would be the only place Harry had a somewhat decent knowledge of its layouts, including the muggle town a few miles south.

Many days later, on many different buses, asking many questions to strangers of its whereabouts, he made it. And it was just as he remembered. The smoke had long faded, but the crackle, the heat, the looks of panic and fear on the faces of fleeing witches and wizards, the chanting, the smell, all of it was still fresh in Harry's mind.

The ruined tents laid broken and charred. Some plots were empty, as though families had come by to take whatever was left of their possessions. There was a brisk crunch beneath Harry's feet. He stepped back and saw a half-scorched red and black flag saying "KRUM" on it. He continued.

Harry stepped lightly and quietly as though afraid to disturb the ghosts that haunted the moor, although none had died that night to his knowledge.

After the sun began to just peak over the horizon, Harry had gradually begun to notice that the tents that were around him now we're almost intact, and he realized that he must have entered on the side that the death eaters had first begun to burn. He didn't stop moving for a second until he reached a barely scathed white tent.

He stood in front of the tent before cautiously entering, half expecting death eaters to jump out from the shadows and grab him. Scanning the space, he noticed that almost everything was where it should be, except for the mattress on the top bunk the girls had shared was tossed onto the floor, the cupboards lay open and empty, and the table had been overturned. He could almost see Fred and George with their feet on the table, Mr. Weasley struggling to light the lantern using only matches, Ron defending Krum, Ginny making fun of Ron's love of Krum, and Hermione trying to read a book on her bunk while trying very hard to pretend like she wasn't laughing. It brought tears to his eyes to remember a simpler time, where all he was worried about was his godfather on the run and his scar hurting.