Chapter Text
Harry’s first thought was that he wouldn't miss them. His second was an admonishment at that thought, for how cruel was it to even think that you wouldn't miss your own family?
Never mind that they had always treated him like a particularly nasty piece of gum that had gotten itself caught on the bottom of their shoe. Or that they had locked him up inside of a small cupboard at night for the majority of his life so far. They were still – unfortunately – family, and it was rude to think that so uncaringly about them.
But he truly didn't miss them, and there was nothing that could change that feeling much.
Truth be told, Harry was still full of aching static from what had happened at the end of the third Triwizard Tournament challenge. What had happened in that cemetery.
Sometimes it all just felt like a truly terrible dream. Sometimes he felt a shock like a bucket of ice water poured over top of him as he remembered that it wasn't.
It suddenly hit him that it had only been thirteen days since then. Less than two weeks.
And he couldn't really truly say that he and Cedric had been close, but– it was different to hear stories of how his parents had been killed by Voldemort, and to see someone be murdered in front of him.
Cedric had smiled a lot when he was alive, his cheeks would round and his lips pressed up, and his eyes would fill with joy as they crinkled. His eyes had been so empty as he lay there. Too empty. Too dead.
Harry could almost still feel the way the warmth had seeped from Cedric’s body after–… after.
He shivered at the thought, the memory.
A loud siren in the distance and clacking footsteps approaching him made his eyes slowly rise to meet the sound. His head hurt.
“Harry Potter?” The footsteps had come from shiny black stilettos, which were on stockinged feet, which were attached to legs, which were attached to the rest of the woman who had approached him. She tapped impatiently on a clipboard.
He stared at the motion dully, his eyes unblinking. The woman let out a sigh.
“Harry Potter!” She snapped. At his slow nod, she continued. “I am Emily Williams, your social worker. You are to be sent to America, you have a cousin there who has agreed to take you in after this unfortunate incident. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded again, if only to get her to leave him be quicker. ‘It is rather strange of her,’ he thought, ‘to refer to the Dursleys' car exploding and killing nineteen people, including the three of them, as an “unfortunate incident”.’
“I am to escort you to your home to pack up your things.” She informed him in that same unempathetic tone. “Come, stand. I don't have all day for you to dawdle.”
Harry followed Ms Williams to her car, then into the house she had apparently been given a key for, as Harry had locked it behind him when he had been taken to the police station earlier that morning.
He led the way to his room and she ushered him inside with another reminder not to dawdle.
He made sure to pack all of his magical things inside of his Hogwarts trunk – minus his wand, which he put up his shirt sleeve – and spell it shut good and tight. It simply wouldn't do to have any muggles digging around in his magical supplies.
And what did it matter that he was not supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts? He was being sent to America, being expelled from that death trap that they called a school was the least of any worries he had.
Next he packed his clothes into a spare duffle bag he found tucked into the back of the closet and forgotten under a pile of old toys that Dudley didn't want to play with anymore but was too lazy to get rid of. He supposed they would stay there until someone cleared out the house, now.
By the impatient tapping of heels against the floor, Ms Williams was already tired of waiting for him. No matter that he had barely taken up fifteen minutes, as he did not have all that much to pack.
Harry glanced around the room once more, but he didn't much care what happened to the rest of the things in it. Most of it was Dudley’s old toys anyways.
He walked to the door and muttered quietly, “I'm ready to leave.”
Ms Williams turned towards the stairs with a sharp nod and not a glance in his direction, and it was lucky that he had already cast a weak lightening charm on his trunk and duffle, for otherwise he would not have been able to keep up with her quick pace.
She looked on as he struggled to put his trunk in the boot of the car.
Then they were on the road. Ms Williams did not seem to be the type of person to listen to music in the car, nor to entertain mindless conversation, so the car ride was quiet.
‘Apparently, I'm getting shipped off immediately.’ Harry thought bemusedly as the airport came into view. He wondered if Ms Williams was going with him on the plane, or if she would just drop him off with his things and leave.
She did neither. She – somehow. Seriously, was she magic too? – managed to find a parking spot and they walked in together.
She led them to the correct terminal after his bags were checked and waited for close to an hour until it was time for takeoff and he had gotten in line to board. She then told him sharply, “Goodbye. And good luck.” And headed on her way.
His was a middle seat, in between a skinny old man wearing a wrinkled suit and reading a newspaper, and a middle-aged woman typing something on a laptop with acrylic nails that clacked every time they met the keyboard.
Harry himself had not thought to bring anything with him onto the plane, so he was stuck there with nothing to do during a more than seven hours flight. He pressed his hand against his sleeve to reassure himself that his wand was still there, and let out a heavy sigh.
The other passengers around him chattered, and a baby began to cry.
This was going to be a long flight.