Harry Potter and the Search for the Truth

Harry Potter and the Search for the Truth

Leaving

When he woke, Harry made a decision. He would follow Sirius’ advice. All of it. Sirius had thought it was important to say in his last letter to Harry, so he would honour that. With that, he got dressed.

The Dursleys had long ago put up a bar in hopes that it would entice Dudley to exercise more. Everyday Harry instead would devote his morning to physical training. In the afternoons, he worked on his magic. He couldn’t use magic, but he could practice the incantations and wand movements with a stick. In the evenings, he would do his homework. He was still sad, but he had learned to use the pain to help him grow stronger. While his days were devoted to his training, his nights remained restless. He could never sleep. He always had nightmares.

Before he knew it, it was July. He had been done with his homework for weeks now, so he started using the evenings to practice wandless magic. The Ministry tracked your magic using your wand, but if you didn’t use a wand they wouldn’t find out. For the first two weeks he hadn’t been able to do anything. In the third week of this practice, he had a revelation. He found that if he thought of Ginny in the middle of concentrating, it helped - a lot. By the end of July Harry could do some of the more simple first year spells. He also spent a good deal of time practicing the summoning charm, and could now summon small things, though nothing bigger than a pillow.

He had been sending frequent letters to Ron and Hermione, as well as Ginny. The letters were comforting, but, as there was a war going on, they couldn’t put anything of any importance in them. But, although they lacked content, he and Ginny had been sending jokes back and forth, playing games of hangman and tic tac toe. They helped keep his spirits up.

Finally, the day came when he got the letter saying when he would leave. It was from Ginny, and said:

Harry,

It’s Time.

Ginny

Harry knew what she meant immediately, but he couldn’t be ready if he didn’t know when exactly. He looked more carefully at the letter - obviously an old sheet of paper. There was a small dog print in the upper right hand corner.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Harry said with anticipation. As he stared at the paper the writing changed, and now read:

Harry,

I am so happy you figured it out. Fred and George said you would. We will be coming on Sunday at 3:00 to pick you up. You will be traveling by portkey. Tell those muggles you will be leaving. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Ginny

Harry looked at his watch. It was 2:00. He had an hour to get ready and pack. He hopped in the shower, then packed his trunk, and cleaned his room and Hedwig’s cage. He knew Aunt Petunia wouldn’t clean up and he wanted the room to be ready for next year. Finally, he gathered his trunk and the cage and headed downstairs to wait in the living room.

The man sitting here and waiting was different from the boy who arrived, in many ways. This man had a lean, muscular body. His skin held that healthy sun-kissed glow, and he had grown several inches; but the circles under his eyes were just as dark, if not darker, than when he had arrived.

“Boy! What are you doing downstairs? We told you to stay out of sight.”

“I’m going to the Weasley’s today.”

“They’re driving this time?” Uncle Vernon asked in disgust.

“No”

“Well, how are they coming, then?” he spat with distaste.

“Portkey,”

“Porty-pot, the names those people use,” he muttered.

“It’s a Portkey, it makes people disappear from one place, and reappear in another.”

Uncle Vernon turned a bright shade of purple and growled, “Never use your words in my house!” He picked up the vase he was standing next to and threw it at Harry, who ducked, and the vase hit the wall behind him. “Clean that up, boy!” he shouted as he walked out of the living room. Harry sighed, grabbed the broom and dust pan, and began to clean.

Just as he finished a small pop indicated that he could leave. He breathed a sigh of relief before turning to see Mr Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody standing in the Dursley’s living room. How out of place they looked was laughable.

“Hello Harry,” the werewolf said with an exhausted tone.

“Harry,” Moody greeted, nodding.

“Harry, how have you been?” Mr Weasley asked in a concerned voice.

“Hi, I’m fine,” Harry said, much more convincingly than he felt. He felt that hole in his chest throb. He hadn’t been moping, but he was still in pain. None of the three looked entirely convinced. “Well, I’ll be better once we leave.”

“We can leave right now. Do you have your things?” Mr Weasley asked.

“Yes, right here,” he replied

“Then let’s go.” He held out a wool sock. At Harry’s questioning glance he shrugged. “Dumbledore.” Harry nodded. He remembered a certain incident in first year and smiled as he grabbed hold and felt a tug behind his navel. He thought, happily, about finally getting to see his real family. He was going home.