The night was quiet as the cracks of apparition were heard through out the little town of Surrey.
Albus, at the head of a group of robed individuals, ran at full speed down the small street, stopping in front of a house, with perfectly tended, rose bushes, a freshly cut lawn, and a heavily polished muggle car. All perfectly clean. And, as Albus was aware of, all done by Harry.
"This is the place Albus?" Said Molly, who had never been at Pivet Drive before, "It doesn't seem too bad. The muggles really do take care of this place don't the-"
"Yes, Molly. It is very nicely taken care of, except it isn't the muggles who take care of the place, its Harry." said an irritated Dumbledore as he made his way up the drive.
"And if ye saw the lad's room, or that wee cupboard 'e had to sleep in till he was ten, you wouldn't be saying any 'o that!" Mad-eye said with a growl. He had liked the Potter boy from the moment he saw him. It reminded him of how he used to act, a little paranoid, crafty, and brave as a Scotsman drunk on a bathtub of whiskey. After hearing what his so called friends said, he had been angry, but knew that the Potter boy would be able to get through it. He's been through worse.
Albus approached the door at the head of a milling hodgepodge mass of ill at ease wizards and witches. Knocking on the door loudly, he waited. After about a minuet he heard swearing from the inside as a loud thumping noise came down the stairs and unlocked the door.
"What in the Bloody hell do you want!" a fat red faced mustachioed man in a night cap and a robe shouted as he answered the door. The man's eyes looked bleary as if he had just gotten up from a good sleep, but as he took in the strange faces and the long dresses they wore, he realized what they were, "Freaks! Freaks!" He yelled in the headmaster's face and tried to slam the door closed. But Dumbledore would have none of that, and as the door came hurtling to his face, he threw his hand out and it stopped, a bare inch from the outstretched fingers.
Ficking his fingers again, the door crashed back into the home. The fat man screeched and tried to scramble up the stairs. Apparently all the noise had attracted the attention of the other members of the house, as a very skinny and prudish woman can flying from the hall the top of the stairs with a fat roundish boy.
"Vernon! What is-" she cut off as soon as she saw the white bearded man, "You!"
"Yes Petunia it is I" said Dumbledore, drawing himself up and stalking up the stairs, passing the quivering fat man at the bottom of the stairs, "I am here for Harry, where is his room?"
Petunia was frozen in fear, and her son was running back to his room, clutching his rear as if it were going to fall off, "He-He-," she stammered.
Dumbledore dismissed the prudish woman, how unlike her sister the woman turned out to be, he thought to himself as he walked through the house an peaked into the doors. From what he saw from outside, Harry's room should have been the farthest room to the right. As he caught sight of it, he was surprised and angered to see about ten locks, mostly deadbolts, placed on the door, from the outside and a doggie flap on the bottom of the door. Harry had said something about being locked in his room, but he had never realized it was that bad. Pushing the door open, Albus was shocked to see how small the room was. He wouldn't even have room to lie down against any of the walls it was that small. The bed was misshapen, and looked propped up by a cinderblock on one leg, while the desk was battered and raw with its mismatched chair that looked like it had been fixed with Ducttape. Even the windows looked to be damaged, as large holes appeared on the bottom and top of the frame. Apparently Harry's admonishment that he had literally been locked into his room was much less embelished as he had thought, in fact, he would even go as far as to say that Harry down played his mistreatment.
Peering onto the desk, Albus felt a tug of magic. Reaching out, he felt paper as his fingers traced the outline of a square piece of parchment. Pulling out his wand, he cast a finite on the parchment and watched in amazement as the disillusionment charm faded. Strange, as students were not allowed to do magic with their wands, and even more strange, as disillusionment charms were definitely not taught anywhere except in Auror training school.
Albus heard a gasp from behind him, as Minerva realized what had just happened, "Was that a disillusionment charm Albus!? How did Mr. Potter learn that, and cast a very advance charm without the use of a wand!?"
The only thing he could do was to nod in agreement. How did he do it? It seemed as though Harry was much more Slytherin than he had thought, "It's a letter, addressed to everyone."
As the others filed into the room, not all fitting so that Charlie, Mad-eye, and a few others had to stand outside and peak over shoulders, the letter started to shake violently in his hands. Dropping it, it reconfigured into a pair of lips that smiled at the people standing within the little room.
"A howler!?" Molly Weasley said, fascinated and shocked that a boy could make a howler, of all things without the use of a wand. All the wizarding folk stopped and listened as it started to talk.
To the Order of the Fried Chicken,
I wanted to thank you for all the useless watching you have done over the past few years. You're voyeurism has left me with little private time to myself, a massive phobia about taking baths, and has done no good what so ever, as there has never been an attack on this house. You should have known that if there were blood wards here, Mr. Moldyshorts couldn't have even seen me if he knew where I was.
Anyway, I would like to thank several people for their meddling. Professor Dumbledore, I would like to thank you first. The care you have shown by placing me in a home where I had to live in a cupboard for ten years of my life, being starved, beaten if I did good in school, beaten if I did not do my chores as my uncle, aunt, or cousin, wished, and beaten for no other reason than being a scapegoat for their problems, really showed how much you cared about my mental and physical well being. Bravo sir, your weapon is ready made with a whole lot of baggage. Molyshorts Ho!
Professors McGonagal and Snape. I must thank you for underestimating me all those years. It was fun to see your glares and looks of disappointment as you saw what you percieved as inadequacy. Your deductive reasoning skills have been honed to a razor sharp edge. Professor McGonagal, I would like to thank you for not letting the headmaster stick me in a home where people hate magic, even though you were watching the house for a week and saw what kind of people my disgusting relatives were. I especially enjoyed my time here. The beatings and the scars I have were oh so wonderful. I would also like to thank you for the treatment you showed me during my time at Hogwarts. Your belief in me, especially when I told you Lord Moldypants was after the Philosopher's stone in my first year, was unshakable. Bravo. Professor Snape. Thank you for all your instruction over the years. Your cynicism has become the cornerstone of my existence and your hatred for my father, that which you transferred to me for no other reason besides you are an ignorant child, was such an inspiration to one such as myself who has never known my father or has any memories of what kind of man he was besides the wonderful image of him getting back at you for trying to poison him. Thank you.
I will be serious for a second and drop my sarcasm for the next two people on my list. To Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I would like to thank you for taking me into your home and treating me, even though it was an act, as one of your own. I have never known family before and I cherish the time I had, even if it was all pretend. It made me feel like I was part of something, even for a little while, before it was destroyed by the realization that you care nothing for me. I don't blame you. It is not your place to become my parents or act like them. I, honestly, just wanted to thank you for pretending.
To the rest of the order, I want to say that I am not running away from the fight. I will not abandon the sheeple of the wizarding world, even if they have abandoned me countless times. My father, mother, and Sirius wouldn't want that, even though I want to leave you idiots to your, oh so justly deserved fate. I will fight the bastard on my own terms. And I will win. To hell with all of you and have a wonderful life.
- Harold James Potter, the weapon
P.S. I do not believe I will be coming back to school professor. I find I am not safe there, if I ever was. Five years, five different threats to my life. Think about it. Oh, and for the rest of the order, about the weapon thing, ask the big turkey about the prophecy, if he doesn't tell you then wait five seconds.
P.P.S. If the big kahuna hasn't told you yet here it goes: "the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Ok that's it. If you can't figure the rest out, then you're pretty much bunked. Have a great life and stay the hell out of my way.
The room was silent as the howler tore itself up and set itself on fire. As the ashes floated away, Albus turned around to see the members of his Order. There were many mixed emotions to this. Some of the other members who didn't know Harry were angry. Why didn't he stay and fight? He was destined to fight the bastard, why didn't he stay? Others were pensive, McGonagal had always thought Harry was lazy and not very bright. He was very charming and an endearing boy, but he was just too simple to be a success. She had promised him he would be an Auror, but that was simple bravura aimed at Umbridge. Though his being sent to Azkaban was shocking for her, she had brushed his loss of with a shrug. He wasn't going to make anything of himself, so why bother with him. Now all her assumptions were standing on their head. He had fooled all of them, and she had treated him like dirt. How was she ever going to make it up to Harry?
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were depressed, Molly had tears in her eyes. Was that the way Harry saw them? As pretending to care? It was true that they had turned on him in after he was sent to Azkaban, Molly had even said good riddance to the boy in front of the twins, something the two boys really did not like, but that was because of what her younger children had said, well, mostly Ronald. Who knew he was that jealous of Harry? It was with good reason, but Ronald could have done the same, he could have studied as religiously as Harry, but he didn't have the same drive. He was lazy, spoilt, and he took his family for granted. While Harry, who had no family, who worked hard for everything he had accomplished, who sacrificed everything he had for his friends and the people he used to call family, was thrown to the wayside. Discarded as if his feelings were nothing. What would James and Lilly have said to them if they knew what they had done to their son? And now, what would Harry do? He had no money, he had nowhere to go, and he was completely alone. Even Remus had left. He had no one at all. And they knew that, but they had abandoned him anyway.
Although the others were depressed, Mad-eye was secretly proud of the boy. He knew what Albus was doing to the lad, knew he was holding him in reserve for something, but he didn't know for what until now. Now the boy had escaped them, and Mad-eye couldn't be happier. The boy would be off, out of the clutches of those who would control him, away from the others that would stimine his growth and inventiveness. The boy was more Slytherin than anyone gave him credit for. The boy was finally free. And Lord Moldyshorts, he loved the name and would adopt it in the future, would be in deep shit once that boy got to him.