Freedom is fleeting || Prisoner of Azkaban
Harry looks up at the teachers table, making eye contact with the headmaster. Then Harry felt better.
Harry hates it here in Privet Drive. He's lived there long enough to know that to make his life easier, albeit more controlled, he should just keep his head down and do what he's told. But Aunt Marge isn't his guardian, and Aunt Marge is a horrid woman of many flaws.
Moreover, Harry isn't all that great at acting.
Aunt Marge barged her way threw the ever-pristinely white door as Harry finished tidying up the living room then sauntered into it like she was the queen of England; Harry vaguely wonders that if her ego got any bigger she probably wouldn't be able to fit it through their front door. He turns on the stove just as he hears a gratingly sweet tone. He doesn't turn to greet her.
"Where's my duddykins?" Harry considers throwing up on their dinner.
The conversation continues and our protagonist starts to despair as the realization hits that this woman will be in the same house as him for a whole week, he can deal with Dudley's incentive teasing and Vernon's need to beat the shit out of his nephew every so often, but Aunt Marge is passive aggressive and Harry can't stand it. He's always thought that if you don't like someone or something you should speak about it. Hermione believes this may be a trauma response but Harry disagrees. Because of this, when the pug face opens her large mouth to do something other than eat and decides to 'speak' to Harry, he blows up a bit inside.. and a bit outside.
The kitchen starts to shake around him, lights flickering on and off. "Don't you dare speak about my mother!" He defended his parents honour with pride and he always will, He doesn't regret the surge of magic that flared up, his energy directed at the aunt.
Marge starts to inflate, she really shouldn't have mentioned his parents, nor should she have poked the lion at all - caged or not -, Everyone but Dudley is watching as the large women slowly becomes larger and infinitely more round. Her buttons start to pop on her clothes as they rip and she screams for Vernon to do something. Vernon goes to stand yet doesn't make a move for her, he can't when her dog is pulling his trousers back and Vernon along with them, consequently she begins to float. Firstly up to the ceiling then rolls ungracefully out the double doors and into the sky. Everyone is yelling and all Harry can feel is vague satisfaction even above all that initial anger.
* When he finally realizes what he's done his hand begins to shake instead of the kitchen which has now settled down, it's gentle - barely noticeable but harry can feel it. Just as he can feel the anger shooting off Vernon. It feels hot like he just set his clothes on fire but he's distracted. He's not running. Vernon grabs Harry by the neck of his shirt and pulls him up face to face, "Give me back my sister boy!" Vernon's working himself up for what Harry knows he's not getting away from and our protagonist braces himself. "BOY! GET HER BACK!" Harry is made away of how accidental it was, he can't get her down safely.
"I can't!" He yelled desperately.
Vernon pushes back with the hand that was holding Harry, throwing him back into the dresser up against the wall. Dudley flinches at the sound of the collision while Petunia is in hysterics. He lunges forward and swings for the almost 13-year-old and whacks his face as hard as he can. This doesn't seem to be enough for Vernon as he makes his way into the kitchen, while Harry stands and runs.
First, to shut the living room door and bolt with a chair, it won't hold for long so he makes his next actions very quickly. The cupboard for his broom and wand, BANG. He's not light on his feet as he runs up the stairs.
BANG CRASH, the kitchen door has been opened as he closes the one to his room. He shuts it as a 'Ministry of Magic' howler floats its way over to him. Vernon is banging up the stairs as Harry is crouched behind his door keeping it closed along with another chair. *
"For use of underage magic, Mr Harry Potter has been Expelled..." The howler spoke, oh? Well then.
Harry stands as he prays the chair holds for just a bit longer "indha kadhavai poottavum" a flash of gold, in the shape of a key, hits the door and Vernon isn't getting in anytime soon. The dark-haired boy vaguely wonders for a moment where he heard that spell, it doesn't sound like Latin but it worked and he couldn't be more grateful.
He needs to leave. Harry needs to get out of here, The spell might be strong but Harry's never performed it before so there is some kind of time limit. He packs as quickly as he can, firstly shrinking his suitcase (After all why not? He's already been expelled), and grabbing Hedwig, then he opens the checked window. Placing the owl's iron cage's handle between his teeth, he descends the plastic grey drain pipe and plants his feet on the soft grass below. He removes the locking charm and hears a loud bang of Vernon breaking the door down as he bolts it down the street.
~
It's been an hour and Harry has been sitting on the pavement across the street from the deserted park. The moon shines bright as he ponders about what he's going to do next. He knows he's been expelled but maybe going to dumbledore wouldn't be such a bad idea? He's not even been on the break a full month and he has no other family! Poor orphan boy Harry Potter sat on his trunk. Tears threatening to spill like the child he is (Because people keep forgetting) when a growl shook him out of his pity party. Something just growled at him. In the bushes of the dark and desolate park, Harry spots a dog. It's large, shabby, and wolf like in nature, obviously not owned but someone, maybe it was abandoned too...?
He's terrified. What can he do in this situation? is it magical? is it wild? He raises his wand. Despite the lingering feeling somewhere in the back of his mind telling him to trust the dog. Harry ignores it, easily as a crushing weight on his mind distracts him, He raises his wand higher and a triple-decked-bus comes flying between him and the dog.
"You called mate?" A tired man is holding the door to the double-decker open, Harry says nothing as he is stunned by almost being run over by the thing but stands up and asks "Where does this go?" as polite sounding as he can as this strange man may have just saved his life (Minus how close he was to being hit by the bus). "For a young child such as yourself? Diagon ally, and I recommend that you stay at the leaky cauldron. You look homeless." and ouch but he's not wrong, Harry needs to be healed, food, and a good night’s rest.
~
Harry walks into his rented room frankly exhausted, Harry pulls out his trunk and enlarges it, He takes in the room's layout and is happy with his choice of inn. A rustic style all over the room and a soft double bed calling his name, A desk up against the cream wall where the door lays, and a window seat that makes harry want to curl up with a blanket and a book. a book? yeah, cause that went well last time. The inky feeling is back and Harry throws the book idea out the window, He concludes he just needs to lay down; setting up his trunk up on the desk for later he goes and grabs some PJs - a large old Dudley shirt with a muggle band name on it and some of Dudley's old shorts held up by one of Harry's shoe lases - maybe it's time to go clothes shopping but for now, Harry wriggles himself into the comfortable mattress and all but passes out as his head hits the pillow.
~
The sunlight breaks through the lace curtain and places itself gently on Harry's face, it tickles him awake and Harry has never felt so comfortable when waking up. So he takes a minute to breathe in the soft bed and feel the warmth of the morning sun. The situation Harry's in slowly sinks in as he opens his eyes: he's been expelled from Hogwarts, ran away from the Dursleys, and now has nowhere to go back to and no money. He spent all he had on him for this room and yet Harry has never been happier. He breathes deeply - feeling the relief wash over him and releasing the tears he had been holding back. He's broke and has no education but he's free. He's finally free.
He feels impulsive after all that crying, He'd spent an hour sobbing tears of relief and glee into his pillow and when he couldn't cry anymore he sat up and thought about his plan because our boy needs money. He's slow so forgive him for taking another 30 minutes to remember that he can go to Gringotts and get more, even without his key surely they can do something to figure out that it is him. Standing on the cold wooden floor he steps his way over to his trunk looking for something to wear when another howler started floating down to him but this time it's McGonagall's cool and apologetic tone, "Dear Mr Potter, I'm happy to announce that you will be returning this year to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. There was a mix-up and while there will be a trial on if you get to keep your wand while away from school and still underage, you are still a student of this school and you will be staying here, Much luck on your trial Mr Potter and see you September." Well, Harry guesses this calls for celebration and decides that should be shopping.
~
Gringotts was scary to a 12-year-old who had little to no idea what he was doing in a bank but he strolled up to the very back of the building through the long row of goblins and greeted the creature carefully.
"Uh hello, I'm wondering if I can take out some mone- uh Galleons." He fumbled not knowing the correct term for many things in this world definitely wasn't good but especially when it came to something as important as getting money out.
The goblin grunted in return "Nh. How many and which vault." he sounded almost offended that Harry had asked but maybe he'd had a bad morning, "Oh right the erm Potter vaults? and um 100?" Harry knows nothing about money and that's clear to anyone who can hear this conversation but the goblin understood even if resined "Do you have the key?" the goblin was accusatory when asking and it baffled Harry "Uhm no I'm sorry, is there any other way you could verify me?" Harry still polite and scared startled the creature with (and Harry's just guessing here) the apology.
"If you consent to it, I could scan your magic." Less uncomfortable the goblin seemed excited to see if this was Harry Potter.
Harry consented and felt a wash of magic run over him, it tickled but he didn't mind until he heard what almost sounded like the goblin had choked on its own saliva. "Is something wrong Mr Goblin sir?", yes that's not its name but it looked to appreciate the sentiment. "Oh no Mr Potter sir however if you could come with me for a moment?" the goblin was agitated which left Harry worried, he knows he's a Potter so what's going on? Harry walks with the goblin for a while, out of the main bank area and into a long hall of doors.
They enter an empty room through a large mahogany door and Harry's getting anxious, "Uh Sir what's wrong, why did we have to leave?" The goblin looks back at him with a gaze almost sympathetic but not quite, "If you consent Mr Potter to another scan can tell you what's wrong but Mr Potter sir if you don't want this I can give you the Galleons and send you on your way."
He should be telling Dumbledore, that's the conclusion his brain comes up with when looking at this Goblin. He needs to tell a trusted adult and have them do the scan. He needs to tell dumbledore.
It's back, that overwhelming feeling. Harry's being suspended high in the sky, the weight of the lack of air crushing his bones with thick ink flooding his veins. Why does he hate the idea of knowing this random bit of information? Why does it feel like Dumbledore is the one who should be telling him this? Surely, if dumbledore knew, he would've told Harry already, surely he would've noticed something was wrong.
"I consent. Please and hurry" He feels bad for pushing to rush this but any longer and he'll run away, or collapse on the floor in fits of tears - he isn't quite sure yet. That familiar wash of light magic makes him tickle, the inky black runs rampant in his body, then he feels warm and a small ball on his chest glows purple, then red, then the lines of his scar that run down his to his eye, glow black.
The goblin steps back aghast at what it sees, pulling the spell away when it was done diagnosing him, "Mr Potter are you aware of the confundus charms placed apon your soul or the block that has been placed on your family magic?" it's tone cautious now and Harry hates it.
Confundus charm? They learnt about that in charms if Harry's memory serves correctly. His lungs feel tight remembering the lesson, Doesn't that make you act how the caster wants you to? What Harry didn't know was what the Goblin meant by 'Block on your family magic.'
"No sir, I am not" He replies shakily. The goblin is firm when he asks his next question, Harry might've had a hard time denying if it weren't for that ink, back once more drenching him in thick guilt.
"Do you want me to remove them for you?"