"Let's go," Harry said calmly, the weight of the moment pressing down.
Without another word, he turned and descended the stairs of Number 4 Privet Drive, the Order following behind in silence. The house was still, every creak of the steps loud in the quiet night.
At the bottom, Petunia Dursley stood by the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. Their eyes met.
"Leaving?" she asked, cool and guarded.
"Yes," Harry replied simply.
"Should've done so sooner."
"I wasn't the one who kept wanting to come back."
That silenced her. They both knew that if it had been his choice he who have stayed in Hogwarts even throughout the holidays.
She stepped aside without another word.
Outside, the air was sharp, the street silent and dimly lit. Harry turned to the group.
"So where are we going and How are we getting there?"
"Side-Along Apparition," Kingsley said. "We'll be taking you somewhere safe."
Harry gave a small nod but inwardly hesitated. Since becoming a Campione, magic barely affected him, he was practically immune to magic, well mortal magic anyway so how would Apparition fare?
Still, he didn't object. "Alright." He was curious.
He took Kingsley's arm, and the moment the spell activated, he felt a tug like he was being pulled somewhere yet it was something he knew he could simply resist if he so desired but in the end, he let it and suddenly the world fell away.
Only this time, it wasn't a blur like he had experienced before. It was a revelation.
Space twisted around him—shards of what he could only assume was time, warped geometry, and kaleidoscopic colors bled into each other. He saw the structure of movement itself and felt the vibration of the void beneath magic's weave.
It was alien, infinite, and beyond.
Then with a snap, it was over.
He stood on a cobbled path, in the streets of the quiet night. The whole area was silent as he tried to contemplate what the hell he just saw.
Harry exhaled deeply.
"That was… trippy," he murmured.
Kingsley gave him a curious look. "You alright?"
Harry nodded. "Fine."
The others arrived behind them one by one—Moody, Tonks, and Lupin. Each glanced at him, sensing something different. Something unspoken.
No one said a word about the way the space around Harry felt heavier.
'Holy hell that was terrifying. What in god's name was that'.
He was pretty sure that teleportation didn't give you a view of the void.
'was it because of how Winx teleport. I mean they lack elegance when doing so that was something that was obvious from how they did it compared to other forms he had seen in other shows and anime. They just fold space and punch through regardless of the area but the risk'. He was never ever doing that again.
He'd send for the Magic association to send him a book of their teleportation technique instead.
"Here read this" Moody snapped him back to reality as he gave him a piece of paper to read.
Honestly, he didn't even need this, the house had shimmered into view as soon as he had arrived.
The door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place creaked open, and Harry stepped inside first, his footsteps echoing in the dim, suffocating silence of the old house. The air inside was stale, heavy with dust, old magic, and memories he didn't care to entertain.
Behind him, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin entered, but Harry barely acknowledged them. His gaze swept the gloomy hallway with detached disinterest. This place was supposed to be his refuge—yet it felt more like a cage.
Sirius appeared at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "Took you long enough."
Harry gave him a glance. "Yeah."
Sirius' grin faltered as he caught the tone. There was no warmth, no excitement, no relief in Harry's voice.
The others began shedding their cloaks and muttering about security sweeps, but Harry ignored them, his focus solely on the dining room where the rest of the Order and his friends were waiting.
When he entered the kitchen, the room fell silent.
Molly and Arthur sat at the table, tense smiles on their faces. Lupin followed him in, trying to break the atmosphere with a forced calm.
But it was Ron and Hermione who drew Harry's gaze.
They stood up hastily, faces brightening until they saw his expression.
"Harry!" Hermione started, her voice cracking with relief. "You're here! We—we tried to reach out but dumble-"
"You tried nothing," Harry cut her off coldly. He didn't mean to snap at her but the Harry part of him was just stronger than Jacob's side.
Her breath hitched.
Ron bristled. "Mate, that's not fair—"
Harry turned on him, his voice sharp and low. "Isn't it? Where were you? Where were all of you when I was stuck at the Dursleys? When I was alone? After Cedric died? After everything?"
Ron opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Hermione looked close to tears. "Harry, Dumbledore—"
"Exactly," Harry interrupted again. "Dumbledore told you. And you just listened. You're supposed to be my friends and you didn't even try to reach out after everything that happened last semester"
He shot a glare at Dumbledore, who had finally emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room, watching the scene unfold with that maddening calm of his while avoiding direct eye contact.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand.
"I don't want to hear it," he said, his tone brokering no argument.
There was a heavy pause. Even Molly, who had been ready to offer food and fuss over him, froze.
Dumbledore finally broke the silence, his voice soft, probing. "Harry, where have you been?"
Harry met his gaze, his green eyes burning. "Out."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Out where?"
Harry smirked bitterly. "Does it matter? You didn't seem interested before."
Dumbledore said nothing.
He may have had Jacob's memories and understood what was happening but that didn't mean he was okay with this man moving him like a chess piece and raising him like a pig to the slaughter.
"I'm going to bed".
Without another word, Harry turned, ignoring the stares, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the way Ron looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't. He walked past them all, his steps echoing through the empty corridors until he reached the upper levels.
He found an empty room, shut the door, and locked it with a flick of his hand. No spell. Just will.
He sat on the bed, breathing slowly.
The anger burned in his chest.
He had no desire to see them. Not yet at least.
No desire to explain himself.
Knowing why and living it were simply two different things and he needed time to calm down before he exploded on his friends and regretted later.
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