Breaking Free (Book 3 of the Lost Potter Series)

Family Counselling

Harry's stay at the Dursleys had never been ideal, but knowing that this would be his last time was making Harry feel almost sad to go. The Dursleys were aware that something major was brewing and kept as far away from Harry as they could manage while still being under the same roof, no longer policing his letters or Hedwig or anything of the sort. Still, he couldn't help but keep a countdown until the real freedom of his 17th birthday would be, whenever his trace was removed and he could practice magic more freely.

While his birthday would be a moment of celebration, he could not help but think of Olivia. It had been a year since she was captured now, and the Order hadn't even begun working on a plan to find and rescue her (well, according to Sirius, who had become quite the pessimist as the year had worn on). He couldn't help but wonder if she was alright, where she was, and if he would be able to see her again before his master plan would begin.

The date was July 19, still twelve days until their shared birthday. Of course, he would be at the Weasleys by that point, another usually happy thought turned mournful. The Burrow has always been a second home (second only to Hogwarts) to Harry, but with the war happening nothing seemed as happy as before.

Harry missed it all.

Harry's stomach grumbled to disrupt his usual morning sulking, so he sighed and sat up in his bed. He had been attempting to clean out his school trunk in his spare time, and was forced to step around the corresponding junk. He slipped on his much-needed glasses and whatever clothes he grabbed first before heading downstairs.

He had just made it to the bottom of the stairs whenever a harsh knock sounded on the door. And, for some reason, Harry felt something telling him to be the one to open it.

Do me a favor and open the door, will you? I would rather talk to you than anyone else in the house.

"Liv?" Harry found himself saying aloud as he swung the door open, revealing a pair of redheads who looked quite out of place in Little Whinging.

The girl was his height and was assumably Olivia based on how she smiled at him.

"Say it a little louder, then. Mind inviting us in? Awfully dangerous, loitering." Olivia couldn't help but joke, the relief of seeing Harry alive and in one piece overwhelming her. She wasn't entirely sure if there was a reason she expected him to be injured, but she pushed that confusion aside.

Who's your friend? Harry asked as he hesitated letting them in.

Draco. And if you two start fighting I'll kill you both. He helped me escape and I offered I'm refuge from his abusive family and the Dark Lord. I know you two disagree—

We do a lot more than disagree! How you can still forgive him—

Did you miss the part where I said he helped me escape?

That doesn't mean—

So he's not squeaky clean, whatever! Let us inside before whoever is watching this house curses us, please.

"Fine." Harry opened the door fully and let Olivia and Draco inside, latching the door behind them.

"Potter," Draco nodded to him, as if that would somehow explain everything and make them even after years of fighting.

"Vernon? Who's that at the door?" Aunt Petunia shrilled at her husband from the kitchen. Said husband was watching the news in the next room, and hadn't seemed to have noticed any guests. Harry entertained the idea of smuggling the two of them upstairs, but unfortunately a certain rotund cousin blocked their way.

"Mummy! Harry's let some strange people in the house!" Dudley Dursley called to his mother, frozen in the middle of the stairs as he stared at the three of them.