Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Realism: Breaking Clichés ❯ Runaway ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: And yet another one. This one in particular isn't really a humor one though. It's about the plots where Harry runs from the Dursleys sometime after his 4th-6th year. Don't get me wrong, I love stories where Harry has the balls to take his life into his own hands and run away from the Dursleys, but running away has consequences and this one-shot details one of those possibilities. An extreme possibility, perhaps, but a possibility nonetheless. Please read, review, and enjoy!

 

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Realism: Breaking Clichés

 

Chapter 3

Runaway

 

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Thump thump-thump

 

All that Harry could hear was his heartbeat. It resonated loudly in his hears and drowned out all other sounds.

 

Thump thump-thump

 

He was surprised that no one else could hear it. He waited, straining his ears, but never heard the sound of his uncle yelling for him to shut up. In fact no one even stirred.

 

Thump thump-thump

 

Slowly, Harry's hand inched towards the doorknob in front of him and began to turn it. If he made no noise at all he might be able to get away with this. If he could just get out without his relatives noticing...

 

Thump thump-thump

 

With a click that seemed as loud as breaking glass, the door finally opened. Harry froze, sure that his relatives had heard that, but no one came. Finally, after several minutes, Harry relaxed with a sigh and completely opened the door.

 

As soon as the door was open, Harry's face was hit with a blast of refreshingly cold air. Harry reveled in the sensation for a moment, allowing his eyes to languidly rove over the view of Privet Drive that he had from the front door.

 

Freedom at last.

 

Harry reached down and picked up the small duffle bag that was resting next to him. In it were all of his valuables, from his clothing, to his textbooks, to his invisibility cloak. His wand was tucked away comfortably in his pocket.

 

The scene was exactly as it looked: Harry was running away. He'd had enough of the Dursleys and after having found out about the Prophecy only a few weeks ago, he'd decided to take his life into his owns hands. No longer would he be strapped down by Dumbledore's wishes. He'd make his own way into the world and destroy Voldemort.

 

A smile curling at the edges of his lips, Harry quickly darted out the doorway and down the Dursely's front lawn. He paused for a moment at the edge of the street, longing to call the Knight Bus, but knowing better than to do so. Instead he began to quietly trot down Privet Drive. There was a train station only a few miles away, on the edge of Little Whinging, that he could use to get to London. It was too bad that he didn't know how to Apparate yet.

 

As Harry strode briskly down the sidewalk, he began to feel a prickling feeling running down the back of his neck. He recognized it almost instantly as apprehension. Harry hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged the feeling off. Doubtless it was because he was running away for the first time in his life.

 

Just moments later, however, Harry found ignoring his instincts to be the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

 

"Accio wand."

 

Instantly, Harry's wand shot out of his pocket and away from him. Shocked, Harry quickly wheeled around and attempted to grasp his wand. He missed by mere inches and instead stumbled forward, off balance, and crashed to the ground.

 

The dread that was beginning to well up within Harry intensified exponentially at the sound of cold, high-pitched laughter. More terrified than he'd ever been in his life, Harry slowly raised his head from were he was lying spread eagle on the ground. The sight that met his eyes was not something that he'd wanted to see.

 

Voldemort was standing above him in all his black robed glory. His red eyes glinted brightly even in the night and a cruel smirk was spread out over his face. The worst part, however, was that Harry's wand was held almost lazily between two of his fingers.

 

As Harry gulped deeply at the intimidating sight, Voldemort let out another chuckle. "Hello, Potter," he said finally. "Sneaking out are we?" Voldemort mockingly waggled a finger at Harry. "What a bad boy. Did you really think that Dumbledore had you staying with those filthy muggles for no reason? Did you really think that I hadn't long since figured out where you lived? I got that information from my spies in the Ministry long ago. There only reason I couldn't reach you is because of those thrice-damned wards." Voldemort paused for a moment, allowing the scowl that had come to his face to melt away into another smirk. "But you've helped me out in that department, haven't you? You even went to the trouble to run away when that fool Mundungus was on your guard duty."

 

As Voldemort calmly raised his own wand Harry's mind was completely saturated with fear. He alone and disarmed facing Voldemort. Voldemort. Perhaps running away hadn't been the best idea.

 

The self-proclaimed Dark Lord seemed to sense what Harry was thinking as he let out another bout of laughter. Harry desperately attempted to scramble to his feet, but the pinprick of green light gathering at the end of Voldemort's wand told him that it was already too late.

 

"Avada Kedavra!"

 

Shit.