❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LXIX. THE EIGHT POTTERS
━━━━━━
"So overdue, I owe them
Swept away, I'm stolen"
WATCHING THE DURSLEYS LEAVE, HARRY wasn't sure what to actually feel except the sense that this was all real. The departure had been swift and surprisingly uneventful considering all the years of tension and disdain that had defined their relationship. Though, there was one thing that crossed Harry's mind; it was Dudley saying that he wasn't much of a waste of space. Momentarily, Harry did thought that he wouldn't mind one day him a visit in the near future when this all was over — if he was alive by then anyway. As he stood on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive, watching their car recede down the street, Harry couldn't shake the surreal feeling that this was a pivotal moment, marking the end of an era.
But he digressed as he went up to his small bedroom. Harry picked up Hedwig's cage, his Firebolt, and his rucksack, gave his unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look, and then made his ungainly way back downstairs to the hall, where he deposited cage, broomstick, and bag near the foot of the stairs. The light was fading rapidly now, the hall full of shadows in the evening light. It felt most strange to stand here in the silence and know that he was about to leave the house for the last time. Long ago, when he had been left alone while the Dursleys went out to enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude had been a rare treat: Pausing only to sneak something tasty from the fridge, he had rushed upstairs to play on Dudley's computer, or put on the television and flicked through the channels to his heart's content. It gave him an odd, empty feeling to remember those times; it was like remembering a younger brother whom he had lost.
"Don't you want to take a last look at the place?" he asked Hedwig, who was still sulking with her head under her wing. "We'll never be here again. Don't you want to remember all the good times? I mean, look at this doormat. What memories... Dudley puked on it after I saved him from the dementors... Turns out he was grateful after all, can you believe it?... And last summer, Dumbledore walked through that front door...."
Harry lost the thread of his thoughts for a moment and Hedwig did nothing to help him retrieve it, but continued to sit with her head under her wing. Harry turned his back on the front door.
"And under here, Hedwig" — Harry pulled open a door under the stairs — "is where I used to sleep! You never knew me then — Blimey, it's small, I'd forgotten..."
Harry looked around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas, remembering how he used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had known anything about his true identity; before he had found out how his parents had died or why such strange things often happened around him. But Harry could still remember the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days: confused dreams involving flashes of green light and once — Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry had recounted it — a flying motorbike...
