The Weight of the World Has Been Lifted

The Weight of the World Has Been Lifted

Home

He could feel the warmth of the blazing sun on the back of his neck and it was this pleasant feeling which managed to rouse him from a peaceful slumber. He opened his sleepy eyes and became aware that he was lying on his front, the gentle smell of grass invading his senses.

Stretching and yawning he sat up to find himself in the middle of a brilliant green field, a sea of grass blowing in the wind. From his right came the soothing sound of running water, looking over he saw that it was a small stream gently flowing its way through the field. Littered about it were large oak trees that looked to be as wise as the centuries they were old.

He sat for a long while enjoying the gentle rays of the sun and the relaxing melody of running water upon rock and the humming of the birds, his mind blank. Not a care. The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

He lost track of time in his daze of peacefulness glancing to the soft white clouds he noticed a string of smoke slowly rising into the sky from behind the hedge which surrounded the field to his left. Curious, he found himself drawn towards the smoke.

He clambered to his feet and began to walk slowly and calmly towards the hedge. He felt a slight dragging behind him and on glance identified it as the black robe that he wore. No longer were they torn and splattered with stains of blood as he remembered them to be, but new, soft and comfortable. He walked faster and the robe began to billow behind him. It was quite satisfying feeling the gentle drag of the robes as they fluttered in the breeze as he walked steadily towards the hedge.

He noticed a narrow gate standing in the hedge and changed his direction slightly so that he would arrive in front of it. The gate was made of old, weathered wood. He unlatched and opened the gate which swung outwards with a slight creak of its rusted hinges and with one last look behind him he walked through. The gate swung closed and relatched behind him with a soft click.

He joined a dirt path shortly after entering a bountiful garden which lay on the other side of the gate. It was surrounded on either side by colourful arrangements of flowers and bushes and was filled with the sound of buzzing bees going on with the job of collecting pollen.

He came to a small white painted wooden bridge which spanned the length of a large pond. He stoped and lent on the railings of the bridge to watch exotic fish that drifted near the surface, enjoying the sunshine of the summer sun or dodging in and out from under the white lilies floated on the surface.

He crossed the bridge the soft thuds of his footsteps upon the wooden surface sending ripples through the water. Once across the pond he continued to follow the path which came to a sudden sharp bend. A small cottage slowly came into view as he rounded the bend.

The cottage was surrounded by a white picket fence which had a line of beautiful roses, both red and white growing behind it. The front porch of the cottage was littered with pot plants and a broomstick rested against one of the larger plants.

Baked cookies sat cooling in the breeze on the open windowsill, the delicious smell reaching his nose. His stomach grumbled slightly reminding him that he was hungry.

Tentatively he made his way through the arch that allowed entrance through the picket fence along a paved path and up a stair onto the wooden porch. The door to the cottage was open and inviting. For a moment he thought that it would be ruse to just walk into someone's home from the back door but something told him that he needn't worry, that this is where he belonged.

He hesitated at the door but his hungry stomach gave him the courage needed to enter this cottage. There was something familiar about it that put all of his worries at ease. He rapped his knuckles on the door frame and stepped back to wait. He waited in vain. Again he knocked but louder though this time there was still no response.

His stomach growled louder this time, insisting that he enter. He turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked he opened it and looked around. Inside the door was a hallway with a polished wood floor a coat rack and a broom stand.

"Hello, is anyone home?" He called hoping for an answer. When there was none he cautiously entered the hallway. Would he get in trouble for entering someone's home without permission? Somehow he doubted it, after all he was lost, hungry and now that he thought of it his mouth was as dry a parchment.

He began to make his way to where he supposed the kitchen was, hopefully the window with the cookies cooling on it belonged to the kitchen. As he passed the broom stand he gave a start, he'd seen something familiar. Looking back at it he saw an assortment of brooms, a Cleansweep 550, an old Bluebird and a Firebolt. That was what had caught his attention; the Firebolt looked exactly as he remembered his own did, including a deep gouge on the right hand side of the handle.

This had startled him somewhat but he dismissed it as coincidence, after all he remembered his old Firebolt being destroyed in his sixth year by Hagrid's brother who just happened to be a giant.

He continued on past that broom stand and found the room that he thought to be the kitchen and entered it. Inside the room there was a small oak table with three seats placed around it placed in the middle of a carpeted area in the room. The room was separated by a counter on the far side of the room, where the carpet ended the tiles began.

Inside the titled area there were various kitchen appliances such as a stove and an oven, as well as cupboards and a fridge and freezer. The cookies sat on the windowsill with a sink beneath it. Walking into the kitchen he grabbed a glass off of the counter top, walked to the sink and filled it with cold water which he drank greedily. He filled the glass again as he grabbed one of the cookies from the sill and munched into it eagerly. It was delicious.

Behind him he heard a sound and wheeled round to face two people who stood just inside the room. He quickly put the cookie and glass down and began to apologise profusely for entering their home without permission.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, no one answered the door and I was hungry I didn't think you would mind if I had one, I'm so sorry," he said all this in a rush whilst blushing in embarrassment.

The redheaded woman who stood next to the scruffy looking man just smiled at him.

"Not to worry, I baked them for you," She said as she quickly crossed the room and embraced him in a warm loving hug.

"I baked them for you, my baby," The woman said as she broke down and began to cry.

Harry Potter the-boy-who-lived was home.