Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

Chapter One: See ya, Dursleys!

As light filtered in through the immaculate windows of number four Privet Drive, the illuminating rays from the bright sun outside fell onto the lean shape of Harry Potter, whose face was currently smushed against his desk. He had fallen asleep that way after a long night of struggling through his potion's homework – that bastard, Snape, had set them an essay that had to be around two feet long. Apparently holidays didn't exist to a certain sour-faced professor. Harry knew that Hermione Granger, a good friend of his, would have absolutely no trouble with this, since she was inarguably the best witch in the year in his opinion. He woke with a start when Hedwig, his beautiful snowy owl, tapped the window with a rolled-up scroll knotted tightly in her beak.

"Wha - whozzair?" mumbled Harry, still half-asleep. He squinted in the bright glow of the morning-sun, fumbling for his glasses, which had unfortunately tumbled off his desk the night before. Finally, he grasped them and shoved them swiftly onto his nose.

"Hey, girl, you got some post for me?" mumbled Harry affectionately as he unclasped the window and let the helpful familiar into his small bedroom. The owl cast her piercing, amber gaze around the small room, slightly disgruntled at the mounds of clothes, quills and books scattered haphazardly all over the floor. Harry had never been one for cleaning up after himself. The aforementioned teenager grabbed the scroll from his faithful owl and let her fly back to her cage, where she perched uncomfortably and let out a disgruntled hoot.

"I know, I know, I hate it here too, but it's not for much longer. Only a month to go, Hedwig." The sincere emerald eyes met the knowing topaz ones, and Hedwig nestled into the familiar grey bars that she had grudgingly called home for five years. She might not like her cage, but she liked Harry more. He knew what it was like to be imprisoned – he had endured it for many, many years. He was like a friendly cellmate, another who suffered from the Dursleys reign of terror. Harry sighed as he slumped into his bed, which groaned from the ancient springs that could barely support the boy-who-lived. That was one good thing that came from him always being small for his age. Even though he had shot up a few inches within the summer, Harry knew he would still be the odd-one-out from his classmates, forever the short, malnourished one. Hogwarts' meals helped to fill him out a little, as well as quidditch giving him some muscle, but just a few weeks at the Dursleys often undid all of that. Oh well, thought Harry, as he eased the scroll apart, just a few more years and he would be out of here, free to do whatever he pleased with his large inheritance and wild imagination.

The only reason he was still trapped, slumped on a rickety bed in a dusty bedroom was because Dumbledore had asked him to be a good boy and stay with the Dursleys just a little while longer. Harry agreed, although he was furious, but that ferocious anger had fizzled out after serving just a little time of his summer prison-sentence with the Dursley's. They were soul-destroying. Almost as bad as dementors, but a lot less like petrifying, dark creatures – more like annoyingly-pompous prats. Yes, Harry thought, that fit quite well. After that he finally turned his attention back to the piece of parchment in his hand; the writing was scribbled and sloped off the page – definitely Ron's. The letter read:

Hi Harry,

I know I haven't been writing much, but I forgot, holiday and that, you know? Hermione has been bugging me to write to you, even though she already writes to you nearly every day. She worries too much for her own good. Not much going on here though, just the usual. Fred and George have been working on more top-secret stuff and won't tell us what, but I reckon it's something like those ton-tongues toffees that they made last year. What do you think? Oh also, we might be coming to get you soon, hang in there! Then I can tell you some more stuff that I probably shouldn't put on paper. I know I haven't been giving you much recently – it's probably annoying you. Sorry about that mate, Dumbledore's orders. Well, I hope the Dursley's have been alright.

Ron.

P.S. Mum and Ginny say hi.

Well, what had he been expecting? If the crap his so-called friends had been sending along each week had been any indication, why did he have a single shred of hope that there might actually be something worth reading in this letter? Every time Hedwig appeared with another letter, he got excited that after leaving that graveyard, seeing Voldemort resurrected through that unspeakably dark ritual, that something was finally happening. But no. Even after all of the times that Harry had proved himself, Dumbledore still insisted on keeping him in the dark like a lost hopeless child. He was sick of it. Sick of watching his friends bathing in the light of family, friends and honesty, whilst he battled alone in the suffocating dark. Couldn't he have any solace from the horrors in his past that still haunted him? His parents' untimely death, his twisted childhood living with the Dursleys'? Or what about that vindictive freak, Voldemort, who never seemed satisfied despite the amount of people he stole from Harry? Mum, Dad, Cedric, nearly Ginny, hell - even Quirrell.

He had been denied knowing Sirius, his godfather, thanks to Pettigrew, who was devoted to the man that many feared to even speak his name. How many people had to be taken from him before he was shown the light? Harry had been pondering these things all summer, constantly reminded of the Triwizard Tournament and the disastrous consequences all summer by the nightmares that crept into his head and flooded his dreams every night. He was sick of it. Of all of it. He wanted answers; yet nobody answered his questions, turning their backs on him in his time of need. Well now, Harry was going to turn his back on them. He might miss them eventually, but the feeling of freedom of everything and everyone would overwhelm that completely.

As Harry snapped out of his head, leaving behind the toxic thoughts that swirled around his brain and he came to a conclusion: he was going to leave it all behind, run away – he had the funds. Harry imagined himself buying a cosy cottage, maybe in Wales, or somewhere further away, like France? Or even further, Australia, perhaps? New Zealand? So many options, so many places to escape. Harry wasn't going to depend on anyone – look where it had gotten him.

He didn't need anyone or anything. Except for Hedwig, of course. He could study at home, as well as familiarise himself with common wizards' etiquette through books, since Dumbledore had annoyingly decided to skip that part in Harry's understanding of the Wizarding World. To prevent being recognised, Harry had the cloak, and he could always transfigure his features. Harry knew he was powerful – his spells had always been more powerful than his classmates, portkeys and travelling via the floo network had always been too enthusiastic, usually resulting in Harry being upended and landing in a sprawled heap on the floor.

He just didn't know how to harness and control the extra energy pumping in his veins. This had resulted in less-than-brilliant grades. Of course, Harry put that down to wanting to remain inconspicuous, and keep his friends from turning into jealous monsters. Well, that wasn't going to work anymore. Harry decided then and there to always strive for excellence, especially since those skills would probably come in handy if he ever had to face off against his old pal, Voldie, again. It was time he grew up and faced his issues head-on.

Hogwarts was a problem. If he went back, Dumbledore would play his games again, making Harry always the one who lost it all, the one who came off the worst. What if Harry didn't want to sacrifice himself for the Greater Good yet again? Now you're talking like a Slytherin, Harry thought with a chuckle. This startled Hedwig, who had been observing her owner for the past half an hour, who was laying back on his threadbare quilt, head resting on a flat pillow, quietly thinking, obviously deep in thought.

If he didn't go back though, Harry pondered, there would be trouble. People would search for the Boy-Who-Lived, despite the fact they had been referring to him as an unstable idiot who was convinced Voldemort was back in the Prophet for the entire summer. They had been discrediting Dumbledore too (the old fart deserved it, in Harry's eyes) and had removed him from the Wizengamot. That would be a blow to the old man's over-inflated ego. Good.

However, there was also the issue of Harry being underage, and still having the trace on him. Maybe he could hide under the cloak for a while? Or brew Polyjuice potion and conceal himself under someone else's appearance? This was harder than he thought. He needed someone to help. Anyone. Who could keep his identity a secret yet supply him with food and anything else he needed? Great. What he needed was a bloody house-elf, and it's not exactly like he could-

hang on…

how did he not see this? Dobby! He was the answer! Harry had a feeling that Dobby would certainly be willing, and Dobby could also provide some company, a friend to talk to. Harry didn't want to go mental from just talking to an owl for months on end. It was a lot to ask, but maybe, just maybe, Dobby would help him. Like his guardian angel. Ha, he had never seen this coming – having Dobby as a caretaker, thought Harry as he sprung to his feet.

"C'mon girl, we're leaving!" whispered Harry jubilantly to Hedwig, who was just beginning to fall asleep. On hearing these words, she flapped her wings excitedly and began to fidget around her small cage, hopping from claw to claw.

"But remember, the Dursley's are still awake, and I want to slip out unnoticed, plus, waking them up at half-five would not be wise if I want to get out of here alive," murmured Harry, his finger pressed to his lips. Hedwig, the clever owl, understood immediately, and remained silent whilst Harry hopped around the room nimbly, occasionally stopping to lob something into a rucksack he had prepared.

Whoo! See ya, Dursleys! Thought Harry as he gathered his rucksack, which consisted on just a few essential items, gestured for Hedwig to perch on his shoulder, crept downstairs and slipped out the door, shutting away and leaving behind the Dursleys, and part of his horrific past, forever.

Thank you for reading.

-Tea33.