Chapter Text
Harry knew three things at this moment:
One, he was the weapon that Voldemort wanted.
Two, he was going to leave Grimmauld Place and hide at the Dursleys'. It was only two weeks before the holidays were over and then they'd force him back to Hogwarts. He was not going to endanger anyone in the wizarding world.
Three, he was not going to leave as unprepared as he was when he ran away from the Dursleys' house. That could have been a disaster, and the ministry wouldn’t help him out this time.
Harry would have been sure that Hermione would feel proud of him for stopping to plan out his actions if he wasn't also sure she would disapprove of what he was doing in the first place. With this thought, he strode over to his trunk, opened it, and took a glance at everything inside. He remembered dragging the trunk down Privet Drive the last time he ran away. It made sense to leave it and only take what he would need.
Mindful of the portrait hanging on the wall, which he now knew connected to Dumbledore's office, he kept his rucksack from view and scooped some of his belongings into it. His clothes, invisibility cloak, Quidditch books, DADA book, parchment, a quill, money, and a few snacks were soon packed up. He patted the wand in his jeans to make sure it was still there. Yes, that should do. All that was left was to get out of the house. He stood up, swung the rucksack onto his back, and had turned towards the door when he heard Phineas Nigellus’s voice coming from the empty portrait.
"Running away, are we?"
Harry stopped. Sure enough, the portrait was spying on him. He felt that telling Phineas Nigellus the truth would be counterproductive to his goals right now, so he thought of a lie. "No, Ron and I are going to do homework. See?" He opened his rucksack again and pulled out the DADA book and the parchment to show the portrait before replacing them.
“And you need to pack a bag to do this?” Phineas Nigellus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I thought it would make it easier to carry my books downstairs, actually,” Harry said. “Books are heavy, you know.”
Phineas Nigellus hummed and Harry knew that he wasn't convinced. "And you filled your bag with books because you’ll be doing all of your homework tonight, is that it?"
"Yeah, I am," Harry said testily. “Maybe I want to get it out of the way and enjoy my Christmas.”
Harry headed out the door and shut it behind him quietly without another word. He was sure Phineas Nigellus would report this to Dumbledore. That meant he had to hurry out of here before anyone else caught him. He crept over to the banister and looked down. The coast was clear. Careful not to make a sound, he made his way downstairs.
He had avoided the troll leg and was walking towards the door when he noticed Mrs. Weasley's purse sitting on a table in the hallway. Money! How could he have been so stupid? He needed muggle money for the train and he had none. He never got pocket money from the Dursleys and all of the money he got from his parents was in wizarding gold. He knew Mrs. Weasley had some in her purse. Guilt pitted in his stomach as he listened to the voices coming from the kitchen and battled with the guilt he already felt for just being here and putting everyone in danger. He hated the idea of stealing from the Weasleys, but it wouldn't hurt if he put a few galleons in and slipped out enough muggle money for the train, would it?
The deed done, he rushed out of the door with far more ease than he had anticipated. Once he was outside of the protective wards he turned to look back at the house and watched it shrinking into the houses next to it. As it vanished, it hit him how real this was. He was leaving the Weasleys and Sirius, his real family, to stay with the Dursleys? He hadn't spent Christmas with the Dursleys for the last four years and he knew he wouldn't be welcome. It was too dangerous to stay, though. How would he live with himself if Voldemort possessed him while he was at 12 Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts? Quite apart from the information he could overhear, he might turn into a snake and eat Ron on Christmas morning or something.
He blinked and swayed as the memory of his teeth sinking into Mr. Weasley’s flesh flooded into his exhausted brain and morphed into images of biting Ron, Ginny, Sirius... Shaking his head, he gathered up his determination and started down the street.
It didn’t take much effort to retrace his steps to the train station. He found the train he needed without much effort and boarded it. Sometime later he was in the pub leading into Diagon Alley. There were several people around the place having dinner or grabbing drinks. Harry remembered the advice Sirius gave him about how a place that was so busy no one would pay attention to you was the best place to hide and was grateful for the bit of cover it gave him. Still, he flattened his hair against his forehead just in case someone recognized him.
Harry wondered for a moment how much of a risk he was causing these folks. But then again, would Voldemort really attack anyone in broad daylight like this? He doubted it. Voldemort's goal was to remain hidden right now. If he did something like possess Harry in the middle of Diagon Alley it would be a bad move, right? Still, he wanted to get in and out of the Wizarding world as quickly as possible. He headed to the back of the pub, but when he reached the brick wall he remembered you needed magic to get through. Lucky for him, an elderly witch happened to be heading into Diagon Alley as well. She had spotted him standing there awkwardly, and adjusted her glasses to see him better. Harry flattened his fringe again.
“Underage and can’t get through?” She asked genially.
“Er, yeah. Could you help me?” Harry said.
“Of course, dear,” she said, and opened up the wall for them both.
The sight of Diagon Alley, normally a place he enjoyed being in, gave him no pleasure. It was gloomy and cloudy out, and people rushed about doing their Christmas shopping. Harry made a beeline for Gringotts while avoiding eye contact with everyone around him. He thought he heard some whispers and noticed some pointing, but he refused to engage with them. He had a mission. Once it was complete, he would be back in the muggle world where no one would know who he was or care. It would be a nice break from the constant gossip at Hogwarts, really.
Gringotts was as bustling as everywhere else. Harry kept his head down as he entered the shortest queue, hoping to get in and out as fast as possible. It wasn’t until only a couple of people were left ahead of him that he noticed the red hair and freckles in the neighboring queue.
Percy Weasley glanced to the side and made eye contact with Harry. Percy's eyes widened and he quickly turned his head away. Harry’s temper flared. The stress and lack of sleep over the past 24 hours clouded his judgement and he abandoned his intention of not drawing attention to himself.
“You know, even if you’re having a row with your dad, you could at least be nicer to your mum,” Harry said quietly.
Percy gave a small grimace. Then he stuck his nose up in the air and replied, “She should be more careful about who she associates with.”
“What, people like me?” Harry said in a heated undertone.
“Yes, people like you,” puffed Percy, still not making eye contact.
The queue was moving. It would be Harry’s turn to be served soon.
“Well, people like me know what it’s like to not have a mum that you can throw away,” Harry whispered viciously.
“Oh, you would make this about you and your scar,” Percy said under his breath. Harry glared at Percy.
“This isn’t about me, it’s about Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, his voice becoming heated. “Keep being a git if you like, but you could think about what you’re doing to her. Your dad’s in the hospital right now and it would be nice if her son wasn’t being a right prat on top of it.”
Percy sniffed and leaned in closer to whisper, “Yes, I know about that. The Minister says that he was in a suspicious part of the ministry. He got himself into trouble, much like you do. Now, mind your business, Potter. Percy turned away and strode to the goblin in front of him, leaving Harry fuming. He shouldn't have done that. He was supposed to be laying low, and it had gotten nowhere. Now he was even angrier. However, it was his turn in the queue and he was glad to have a distraction from what a git Percy was.
“How may I help you?” the goblin asked.
“I’d like to exchange some of my gold for muggle money,” Harry replied, placing his money on the counter.
“Straight away, sir,” the goblin took the money and disappeared under the desk. He returned with a stack of bills, and Harry took them.
“Thank you,” Harry said, and he hurried out of Gringotts, eager to leave. Despite the rage still fuming in him, the street seemed a bit brighter as he exited the bank. He had enough pounds on him to get him through the holiday if the Dursleys didn’t want to feed him properly. Considering he was about to drop in on them unannounced, he guessed that would be the case. This was why the next part of his plan was to visit a shop and pick up some food to stash in his bedroom. His stomach growled at the thought. It was about dinner time. Perhaps he could stop somewhere and get something to eat first.
Looking at his sack of muggle money, he wondered why he didn’t think to do this before. His summers would have been a lot more bearable if he had pocket money. He could have at least had an escape from home for a bit if he could pop into a shop for a bit if he had thought ahead enough to stash some muggle money in his trunk. The anger simmering in his chest was directed at himself now. A new feeling was dawning on him as well. It took walking past a few more shops before he realized what it was: Freedom. He could do anything he wanted now if he liked. Who was to stop him?
Thinking back to his childhood full of jealously watching Dudley get treats that Harry wasn’t allowed to have himself, he realized what he wanted most. McDonald's. He was always, always made to give Dudley his toy and most often his chips as well. Then he remembered that he saw a McDonalds on his way from the train station to Diagon Alley. Perfect.
One Happy Meal later, he was examining a brown toy dog with a slinky in the middle. He recognized it from some commercials about a movie called Toy Story. It wasn't very high quality. The slinky in the middle wasn't even a real slinky. Still, the fact that it was his and he didn't have to give it up pleased him so much he could brush off the look he got from the neighboring table while he was playing with it. It didn’t matter. This was for the small boy inside of himself that never got any toys.
Harry licked the salt off of his fingers after he finished the last of his chips and caught sight of his watch. It was getting late. Come to think of it, how was he going to get to Surrey? The good mood that his dinner had given him dimmed a bit as he looked out the windows at the darkening street. There was a train station nearby, he knew. He supposed he could check the schedule and see if one went to Surrey. If not, there was always the Knight Bus.
As it turned out, the station did have a train to Surrey. Harry recognized the station as being one he’d passed on trips into town with Aunt Petunia. He knew the area well enough he was sure he could catch a bus home. Feeling a lot more confident than he had earlier, Harry leaned back in his seat. The rocking of the train and his full belly reminded him that he hadn't slept in far too long. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he couldn’t let himself doze off here, though. He needed to get to the Dursleys’. He would be safe there. Until then he would have to find a way to stay awake.
He pressed his hands against his eyes and took a deep breath, then straightened up in his seat and took a glance around. A few commuters were on the train with him, most in business suits and looking as tired as he felt. The only person other than Harry who wasn’t wearing a suit was a man in a black and grey striped jumper sitting on the opposite row of seats a little way down. The man was reading the day’s newspaper. Harry found himself reading the back of it. After a moment of this, he found there were no stories that interested him. Something about the man seemed familiar, though. Maybe the way he sat, or his hands… The man's face wasn't visible behind the paper, and Harry didn't want to be caught staring so he looked away. He didn't know anyone who would be on the train to Surrey in any case. Besides Mrs. Figg, he wasn't aware of any wizarding folk who lived there. Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall back again, choosing to read the adverts on the wall of the train instead.
It was both a relief and an annoyance when the train stopped and he had to drag himself up to his feet and get moving again. The crowd shuffled onto the platform and Harry followed it mindlessly while he went over his plan again. There was a Tesco nearby that he knew. He would get in, grab some non-perishables, and hide out in his room for 2 weeks. He had done it before, only this time he would be better prepared. This would be easy, if not miserable.
He was halfway down the snack aisle with a handbasket full of cereal bars and instant noodles that he felt a hand grab his arm. His stomach jolted and he jerked his arm back, trying to grab his wand by instinct, but the hand holding his arm spun him around. Then all of the blood drained out of his face.
“Having a nice little holiday, Potter?” came the cold, seething voice of Severus Snape.