Learning to Live

Chapter 5: Escape

‘Where am I?’ Darkness and silence were his only answers. Harry lay in the dim room, waiting for him memory to return. Flashes of pictures and sounds, scents and random colours came to him, but it took a few minutes to put them together into a cohesive sequence of events. ‘Vernon... He raped me.’ Harry did an odd sort of mental jig. ‘I knew he was queer. Snape was at Private Drive. I must be in Mungo’s. Somebody was just here. I can still smell them. Like pine trees and snow. I never knew snow was a scent.’ Harry knew he was rambling, even if it was only in his head.
‘Right before they left, they said something. What was it? Come back to me, Harry. Don’t leave me. I love you too much. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?’ But the last person to love Harry had died. The thought stopped him short. ‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t let anyone else die.’ Since Voldemort was the one who kept killing them, Harry figured it was about time he killed the bugger. ‘I only have one left, even though I don’t know who the hell they are. I won’t let you take them away.’
And so, it was will this promise that Harry slowly got up out of his cold, hard hospital bed, found his wand, and made his escape.

***

Boy-Who-Lived Missing from Hospital

Late this afternoon, medi-witches discovered an empty bed where Harry Potter was supposed to be lying comatose. The question on everyone’s lips is “Was he kidnapped?” It is unclear whether he simply got up and disappeared, or was stolen from his bed.
One witness near the intensive care wing claims that he saw Lucius Malfoy, the infamous Death Eater, steal the boy. Officials at Azkaban say that the pureblood has made no attempt at escape, never mind succeeded at one.
So who was the person to last see the Boy-Who-Lived? (Continued on page 8)

***

“He’s moved up in the world a bit, my dear. He went from page 12 to page 8.” A mirthless laugh issued from Narcissia’s mouth.”But who is this person walking around looking like my husband?” A sly glance was aimed at Draco. He continued chewing his toast before replying.
“I have no idea mother. I was off getting school supplies at the purported time.” In fact, it had only been a simularicum in Diagon Alley, an advanced corporal illusion. He knew he had to shake off his mother’s questioning before she looked too deeply into the issue. “I wonder if the Dark Lord had this done?”
A gleam came into her eye at this idea. Again, Narcissia disappeared into her shadowed house, mumbling to herself with her newspaper under her nose. Hope rose on weak and fluttering wings in Draco, fuelled by the need to love and be loved.

***

Harry made his way through London slowly, taking back routes and alleys, avoiding being seen as much as possible. He was heading to Diagon Alley. He needed money and his supplies for the next year. He still wasn’t healed of his injuries, but the pain only spurred him on, giving him a real reason to continue on.
He snuck into the Leaky Cauldron, probably setting off who knows how many alarms. He went to the fireplace as quickly as he could, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and whisked himself off to Mrs. Figg’s house. She may have been a Squib, but she was still connected to the network. He found himself in her livingroom and quickly got out of there, not wanting to alert her.
Once stepping inside of the Dursley’s house, the concept of revenge entered his head. It would have been so sweet to put a select number of curses onto the man he had called Uncle. A well placed shrinking charm, some boils in inconvenient places. But he didn’t have time. Harry grabbed his packed trunk and his broom, making sure not to wake his aunt who was strangely camped out in his room. Uncaring of the laws governing under-aged magic, Harry charmed his trunk to shrink and be light as air, putting it in his pocket. He let Hedwig out and tied her cage to his broom, then he was off.
As he flew, Harry began thinking of the places he could go. He knew he wasn’t up to facing the Dark Lord yet. He needed to heal and continue learning. Against what Dumbledore said, Harry thought the best way to win was with dark spells. Besides, he seemed to have an affinity for them.
But no matter that, he still needed to heal. Without thought really, Harry found himself headed to Grimmauld Place. With a slightly twisted smile, Harry kept on course. It would be the perfect place to stay while he prepared for his final battle with Voldemort, never mind the order running around.


A/N: sorry that this chapter is so short, but it is neccessary plot filler, so please forgive me.