Hogwarts' Protection

Runaway

It was twelve minutes after two o'clock in the afternoon and the children from the primary school in Little Whinging were on their way home, either being picked up by their parents, walking or taking the school bus. All except Harry Potter.

His teacher simply didn't seem to understand that if he was even a few minutes late, he would miss the bus and would have to walk home for an hour. And when he got home, he would have to endure Uncle Vernon's rage, because he had missed one hour of doing his chores and hadn't brought him his three o'clock coffee. Even if Uncle Vernon was still at work, Dudley would certainly wail that he hadn't been there to bring him hot chocolate to the TV and Uncle Vernon would notice when he got home and the whole thing would simply be delayed.

No, his teacher didn't understand at all.

"Harry," she was saying. "I simply do not understand why you don't participate in class. Your last test shows how well you know the subject, so why don't you raise your hand every once in a while?"

Harry only shrugged. She didn't know a lot of things about him. She didn't know what would happen to him at home if Dudley ever thought the teachers liked Harry better than him.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" Mrs. Naurien asked. "At home I mean. You live with your cousin's family, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Is everything alright with them?"

Touchy subject. Harry seriously did not want to talk about it. "Can I go now?"

She sighed. "Alright, but you can come to me if you need anything, alright?"

Harry gave her a curt nod and quickly left the school. As suspected, the bus was long gone, so he set out on foot. It was cold and windy and Harry didn't have a jacket with him. The Dursleys gave him the jacket that Dudley had outgrown over the summer each year, but they were always badly torn from whatever Dudley had done with them, and Aunt Petunia only deemed it important enough that Harry had a jacket once the first snow had fallen. So he had to make do with Dudley's old oversized sweaters over two of his t-shirts.

Harry kept his eyes on the walkway as he walked, houses on his left, and a line of trees on his right. It was October and the streets lay full of golden leaves. Harry didn't even notice it anymore. He had stopped noticing nature's beauty long ago, all he remembered about it were  the two scars it gained him.

As he came up on number four of Privet Drive his thoughts wandered to Vernon and how bad today could get. He looked up and as he saw Uncle Vernon's shadow in one of the windows a sudden wave of fear overcame him. He started shaking as he felt like the belt was already crashing down on him, tearing his back open. And his mind played through the scene of Uncle Vernon taking the cutting knife from the kitchen counter... 

And Harry turned and ran. 

He didn't know where he was going, he didn't even know what he was doing, or what he was thinking. He probably wasn't thinking at all, but something in him seemed to know that he couldn't go back, that something kept him running. He didn't know how long he ran or where he was, he didn't think he cared either. It got dark at some point and Harry slowed down. When his mind didn't focus on running anymore, realization crashed down on him. He had run away, and now he couldn't go back anymore. The Dursleys wouldn't take him back now, no one would take in a boy who had run away from the people that gave him a home, a place to sleep.

He sunk to the ground and buried his face in his hands. He lay crumpled on the ground, none of the people on the street, or wherever he was, seemed to notice him; Harry didn't notice them either. He didn't know how long he lay there – eyes closed, his mind going over all his possible terrible fates – until darkness enclosed him.

~•~

When he woke up, he was startled at first. He had been dreaming about a giant stomping after him, chasing him through a forest, and he had thought that it was Dudley, stomping down the stairs because Harry had slept in. Then he noticed the brick walls around him, and the stones beneath his feet and two huge containers on one of the walls.

Harry inspected the containers more closely, there was food in them. Outdated food, but food. Monday morning, the day before yesterday, it had been the last time he had eaten anything. It wasn't such a long time for him, but he felt a certain craving for the food that overflowed from the container, so that there were even some things stacked on the ground beside it.

It had been thrown away, right? No one wanted this food anymore...

Harry flinched back and stumbled away from the containers, into the alley. Then he turned around and ran.

What was he thinking? Harry scolded himself for even considering to take the food. It didn't belong to him, and there was certainly no one in this world who would take in a little thief. He didn't need the food that bad.

The containers had been behind a supermarket, that Harry saw once he came out of the alley. He silently apologized to whoever owned it. He hadn't meant to think about stealing.

Three days later Harry found himself thinking back to the container of food, but he scolded himself for thinking of it whenever he noticed. But his feet involuntarily led him back to the supermarket and he longed for just a bit of bread or a sip of water. But he kept himself from going back to the container and just when he was about to leave, he noticed a poster in the window. A poster of himself! There was a picture of him, right below the heading "Missing"! That was all Harry needed to know. They were looking for him! And even if he had dreaded that they wouldn't take him back, now that it came to it, everything inside him was revolted by the idea of going back. Harry found that he couldn't move at the mere thought.

"Are you alright?" someone asked next to him, and it took Harry a moment to notice he was being spoken to.

"Fine," he mumbled as he turned to the man, maybe in his mid-thirties.

"Say, you look an awful lot like that boy on the poster," the man started.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and his heart began to beat frantically, before instinct took over and he ran, without another word to the man who stared after him. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe, he was freezing, but he didn't even notice. It was like the world around him had become all blurry and confusing, he didn't know what to do anymore, there was no place left for him anymore. Maybe the police would find him soon and they would put him in some sort of institute for bad boys like him, boys who ran away from home. Maybe it would be best that way, the world didn't need him.

As he thought that, Harry began to stumble and finally he fell. He didn't bother to get up, maybe he could just freeze to death, it would save everyone a lot of trouble.

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