A/N: I've had such an emotional reaction to Half-Blood Prince that I've felt the need to start a "next installment" for Harry Potter.
Please forgive any grammatical/spelling errors as I no longer have Microsoft Word and am stuck using that wonderful creation, WordPad.
Enjoy.
"Out of Thin Air"
Summer came all too fast in Harry's mind. The school year previous had raced by and though not everything that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been entirely welcome (Harry was still particularly upset), there was some inkling of happiness in Harry that the school year was over. Almost each and every thing that could've gone wrong in that one year alone had happened, albiet not until the end of the term.
There was still some evil sense of unease in Harry's body. Of course, that was to be expected. Voldemort was definately back. His Death Eaters were out and running about and there was havok in the streets. Headlines of death and destruction frequented the front page of both the Daily Prophet and the muggle newspapers that Harry saw and each day, he made an effort to skim through the pages to find if anybody else he knew's life had been claimed by the Dark Lord or one of his followers. So far, Harry thought with ease, nobody was dead.
Dumbledore was dead.
The realization of Dumbledore's death was all too hard a concept for Harry to grasp. He'd loved the old, magnificent Wizard more than words could say - he was like a Father, or rather, a Grandfather to Harry and that kind of love was strange and new to Harry. There'd been Sirius, who was the closest thing to a Father that Harry had ever known, but he'd been taken away by Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius had slipped behind the veil and he was not ever going to come back. Dumbledore had been killed by Severus Snape. Professor Severus Snape. The thought made Harry sick and shake with rage.
The Dursley's of Number Four, Privet Drive were exceptionally edgy around Harry. They knew that the strange, unexplainable deaths that spread across the front page of their newspapers and were headlined on thier nightly news were results of magic. Their unease was shared with the rest of the prim and proper people on Privet Drive. There was hardly a person outside at night. The streets were deserted at dark, parks were left long before sunset, and Harry wasn't allowed to leave the house.
He didn't want to go outside, anyway. The spell that protected him from Voldemort was still in effect at Number Four and Harry had promised to Dumbledore that he would stay there until the spell was over. In just a day, Harry would be turning 17 and the spell would be finished, complete, then Harry would go out on his own and finish what he'd began with Dumbledore in his Sixth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry.
If it were possible, the Dursley's seemed more excited to see Harry go than Harry was of leaving his prison of 16 years.
Harry lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with unbreakable concentration. He was planning what he was going to do when he left. The trunk at the end of his bed was packed, his room was clean, and he was ready to leave at the first moment he could. His Firebolt rested against the trunk and on top of the trunk lay his invisibility cloak. He was going to hitch his trunk to the bottom of his broom, wear the invisibility cloak and fly to the Burrow. To his knowledge, a few Aurors were going to accompany him - not from orders, but because of their own want. There were a few watching Privet Drive as he lay there, in a somewhat dream-like state.
The fake Horcrux was in his hand. He sqeezed it painfully in his hand. The skin on his hand had already been punctured from the sharp edges of the locket. The pain was his way of keeping what had happened fresh in his mind, what he needed to do plain and unmistakable as his imminent freedom from Privet Drive. The note he had found inside the Horcrux was put back into the locket. Harry had no intention to read it again until he came closer and closer to his goal of destroying Voldemort. Before he came to fight the most powerful evil Wizard there ever was, he needed to know if the Horcrux with the fragment of Voldemort's soul had been destroyed or not. Harry didn't care if the time came and he died in duel with Voldemort, but he wanted to know for sure that he'd killed his enemy and hadn't left one more piece of him for his friends to destroy.
Better to get it done right the first time he thought as he lay there, limp and unfeeling. He hadn't eaten in days and his stomach rumbled with hunger pains. He didn't care. He wanted nothing from the Dursley's, wanted nothing to do with them.
In just a couple of hours, Harry would be on his way to the Burrow. He'd join up with Ron and Hermione and they'd be on their way, together. The fact that his friends wanted to risk their lives to accompany him and not complete their final year at Hogwarts impressed Harry in ways that nothing else did. They were true friends, Ron and Hermione. He loved them so much. He loved Ginny, too, but he couldn't be with her, no matter how much he wanted to. Now that he knew what it felt like to be with somebody who could love him back, it was hard to forget and hard to live without, but he wanted what was best for Ginny and if not being with her was what she needed, he was going to give that to her.
He'd recieved a couple of owls from her explaining how she felt and how she didn't care if she was in danger if she was with him, but he just couldn't stand putting her in that window of pain. Everybody that Harry had ever loved had come into danger at some point of time. Most of them had died. His mother, father, Sirius, Dumbledore... and Hermione and Ron had felt some sort of pain in the seven years they'd known one another. They were still alive, though. Harry loved them more than words could possibly say.
The alarm clock next to Harry's bed flashed red in the darkness that'd swept over his bedroom. 10:30pm. In just an hour and a half he'd be out and on his way. Despite the danger that would come traveling at night, he was determined to leave Privet Drive at the first possible opportunity. Nothing could keep him there longer than need be. He hadn't really spoken to the Dursley's the entire summer and for that he was very grateful. He didn't feel like speaking to anybody.
He was tired, but didn't want to fall asleep. There was only an hour left until he'd legally turned 17, when he'd be able to use magic outside of Hogwarts and go to the Ministry to get his Apparation license. It wasn't as though he needed it, however. Harry knew perfectly well how to Apparate and Disapparate - he'd done it just less than a month ago with Dumbledore. Dumbledore. The thought of his dead mentor pressed heavily against his heart and made him feel nauseous. He rolled onto his stomach and smothered his face into his pillow. It didn't take long for sleep to set in.
The blasting of his alarm clock woke Harry up. He rolled over to slap the snooze button and noticed, with an electrified jolt streaming into the pit of his stomach, that it was midnight. He jumped out of bed, stuffing the Horcrux into his jeans pocket, grabbed his wand and his Firebolt, and magicked his trunk to float before him down the stairway of the Dursley's well-kept house.
The Dursley's were asleep, as Harry expected them to be. He was happy. There was nothing in the world that made him want to say goodbye. Having no remorse for his actions, Harry magically bound the trunk to the bottom of his broom, threw his Invisibility Cloak over himself and his broom and kicked off into the darkness of the night. He was soaring in and through the air, speeding up, going faster and faster in hopes of reaching the Burrow before the night was over. Wind rushed through his ears and flapped his Invisibility Cloak wildly through the air. Looking around himself, he noticed two Wizards following him - Lupin and Tonks. The thought that they were there to protect him made him happy. They were good friends, and he could trust them with his life.
Moon, stars, darkness. He felt alive, free, happy. No more Dursley's, ever. He, Harry, had kept his promise to Dumbledore and stayed with the Dursley's until the magic had passed and now he was his own free man, free to do as he chose. Voldemort was going to rue the day he'd ever heard of Harry Potter, he thought as he flew deeper and deeper into night. He could almost feel the Burrow.
Harry felt something warm spreading up his back and turned around. The Invisibility Cloak was red and glowing. He'd been jinxed, but the cloak had deflected the magic and absorbed it in itself. Harry, surprised, looked around him. Tonks and Lupin were gone, replaced by angry looking Wizards in black. Harry's heart stopped. Death Eaters.
But how could they have known?
Dread spread through him. They'd been able to see his trunk from beneath the Invisibility Cloak, swaying heavily through the wind. Harry felt incredibly stupid and annoyed with himself at the same time. He drew out his wand, drew off the Invisibility Cloak and shouted out "Stupefy!" The Wizard on the far right dodged his spell and shot another curse towards Harry, who swerved away just in time.
Harry grabbed the Firebolt handle harder than before. He shot back a few more jinxes, but the Wizards behind him would not be touched. In one last, fleeting moment of thought, Harry tightened his grip and Apparated with the vision of the Burrow's Garden fixed in his mind.
Pressure, like he was beeing squeezed through a small rubber tube encompased Harry, but he did his best to ignore it. Then, without warning, He felt his trunk slam into the ground below, felt his broom slip from beneath his legs and found himself crashing into the hard, solid ground of the Weasley's garden.
Grabbing his things and bewitching his trunk, Harry ran to the rickety form of the Burrow and slammed on the kitchen door. He stood there for a few moments, banging hastily, until Mrs. Weasley shouted out, "Who's out there?"
"It's me, Harry," he panted. "I was followed."
"What was on the sweater I knitted for you last Christmas, Harry?" she asked him. It was her confirmation question to see if it was the real Harry Potter and not some imposter.
He grit his teeth. "A Golden Snitch."
Mrs. Weasley threw the kitchen door open and pulled Harry in with such force that he tripped and fell face-first onto the kitchen floor. She screamed out "Arthur!", and soon after, Mr. Weasley came dashing down the stairs, dressed in his nightgown and a pair of ragged carpet slippers.
"Oh. Hello there, Harry. Didn't expect to see you this late at night!"
"Arthur, he was followed." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged darkly significant looks.
Mr. Weasley grabbed Harry's arm and helped him back to his feet. Harry nodded his thanks and wrapped his arms around himself, frowning. How could he have been so stupid? Why didn't he just Apparate there, straight away, instead of taking the chance of flying? He'd been aching to have a go at Death Eaters, though. He had a strange, boiling vehemence towards Voldemort and his followers that left a strange taste in his mouth.
Mr. Weasley was talking to him. "Did you see who it was, Harry?"
"No. One tried to jinx me - they could see the bottom of my trunk beneath my Invisibility Cloak and shot the spell, but the cloak absorbed it. I tried to Stupefy them, but they kept dodging my attacks... so I just Apparated."
"You don't have your Apparation license yet, though!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "And out of thin air? Harry! Do you know how dangerous that is?"
Mr. Weasley magicked Harry's trunk into the air and sent it up the stairway. "Molly, leave him alone. Harry, go ahead into Ron's room and get some rest. We'll talk about this more in the morning."
The Weasley's had been expecting Harry. The camp bed was set up, once again, in Ron's attic room. Harry followed Mr. Weasley up the stairs, his Firebolt and his Invisibility Cloak clutched protectively in his arms. Mr. Weasley set the trunk down at the end of the camp bed and left Harry in the room where Ron was snoring loudly from his bed.
Harry didn't feel like waking his best friend. He sat himself down on the camp bed, frowning, and waited for morning.