Disclaimer: I make no money from these stories, and make no money from anything else either, so a law suit would just waste everyone's time. We all know JKR owns everything important.
Warning: Spoilers for books 1-4, some violence and unpleasant situations
Authors note: This is an Alternate Universe fanfiction, so it does not work with OOTP. I would love a review from you. Thanks for reading my story.
The Road Trip
Chapter 1: Fight and Flight
Humid and hot air drifted in and out of the half closed window. It moved the gray tattered curtains, but failed to lower the temperature. Little flies and mosquitoes took advantage of the lack of screens. Despite the futility of the action, Harry rose from his bed and pushed the window entirely open. He looked up at the starry sky, and could barely suppress a sigh.
Two weeks had passed since school had let out for the summer and no one had written to him. Not a single letter. He was sure he had sent out at least twenty in the first week, maybe half that the following one. Hedwig always returned empty handed. But at least she came back. He thought. His stomach tied itself in knots and he began to pace trying to ease some of the nauseating tension. When would Voldemort strike? An hour later, when he had worn out his legs, his mind was still stubbornly active. In a final desperate attempt to distract himself, he sat on his bed and started the history essay that was not due for another two months. He was asleep with in a minute.
When he opened his eyes he was standing in the street at the far end of Privet drive and for a moment he convinced himself he had been sleep walking. Then he heard them whispering. He turned. They stood in a circle on the front lawn of number 16. The street lights had gone out, but their white masks nearly glowed in the faint star light. He tried to back away but his feet refused to move. One of them left the circle and walked right up to him. The man stood less then two feet to his left but apparently didn't see him. Maybe I've gone sleep walking in my dad's invisibility cloak then. The man raised his hands and wind milled them about in an almost comical manner. Harry heard himself snicker, and clamped both hands over his traitorous mouth. But the death eater had not heard. The man suddenly clapped his hands together and purple lightening flew outward from them, tracing a bizarre and gigantic dome shape in the sky.
Pain blasted through his head. He's here! His heart beat explosively fast. Oh God! Please don't let me pass out. His feet unglued themselves from the pavement and he took a staggering step. A cold breeze blew across the back of his neck, followed by a faint popping sound. If I don't look, maybe if I just don't look…. Harry felt like a coward, and it was a sick and guilty feeling, but he couldn't face Voldemort; not half naked in pajamas in the middle of the night, not unarmed. The pain grew, rhythmically, with every step the Dark Lord took, until Harry knew he was screaming. He felt his thoughts scatter and he fell to the road, curling up on his side. He watched horrified as Voldemort's foot passed through his chest. In that moment it felt as if his lungs had frozen. He gagged and choked, but Voldemort continued on, oblivious. Just a vision. He laughed nervously, just a vision, I'm not really here…. But I am asleep eight houses away! Oh crap he's going to kill me in my sleep, and I'm going to watch, the laughter was rising again, That doesn't make any sense at all. Uncle Vernon's going to wake up if I keep laughing. He climbed back to his feet. The Dursleys. They're still asleep. His thoughts were interrupted.
"How long until the wards are down?" asked one of the Death Eaters.
"The ones connected to Hogwarts have been severed, so the old fool will have no warning, the rest will be down with in fifteen minutes," answered the one who had cast the spell.
"Good." said the dark lord quietly.
Apparently no one was going to get an unforgivable curse. Which means nothing is going to wake me up. He pinched his arm, hard. The skin stung, but he was still in the street. Alright, maybe… He slapped himself across the face. Pain, but still asleep. What else? What else? Falling dreams, you always wake up before you land right? Maybe I just have to….
He leaned back ward slowly, losing his balance, his whole body stiffened as he fought the urge to catch himself. His feet left the ground and he plummeted.
He woke up falling. His rickety bed had some how come up on two legs and Harry rolled off onto the floor. The bed fell after him and he scrambled to avoid trapping a limb under it. It crashed to the ground and the springs continued to emit an odd warbling sound for several seconds after ward. There was an answering boom in the bedroom down the hall as his uncle got up.
Harry snatched up his glasses and stumbled out into the hall. He made it to his uncle's bed room just as Vernon opened the door. A fist struck him, and he fell for the fourth time that night.
"What the hell do you think you're doing boy?"
Harry felt a mocking flutter of relief that he hadn't put his glasses on his face yet.
"You have to get up! Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia! You have to get out of here! Get Dudley! Their coming, the ones who killed my parents, they're coming here. You have to get out of here right now!" He pulled himself up again.
"BE QUIET BOY!" His uncle roared. He was slapped, open hand this time and he hit the wall, which allowed him to stay up right. "I don't want to hear any more of this. You've woken us up screaming every night since you came back. You're going to the madhouse if it happens again! Now go back to your room and if you make another sound I'll take a belt to you! Do you under stand me?"
"Uncle Vernon they're coming I saw them. You have to..." Vernon hit him again. Harry brought a hand to his face and wiped the blood from his lip. Vernon turned and walked back into his room, and Harry could hear him rustling through his closet. That moron is actually looking for a belt. Harry turned and sprinted to his room.
He pulled out the old duffle bag Dudley had discarded shortly after his first and last camping trip. "Have to keep it light…" he muttered and began to pack. Can't take my books, or any thing from potions, robes won't do much good. He sorted through his school trunk, slightly heart broken at all the things he would have to leave behind. In the end he packed only three changes of muggle clothes, his invisibility cloak, his money and Gringotts key, and his pocket knife. He dressed himself in old black jeans and a hugely oversized black sweat shirt. His wand he tucked into his belt. His fifteen minutes were almost up. With a frustrated growl he stuffed his photo album into the bag, it only just fit. Hedwig hooted once, grabbing his attention. I can't take her with me. His throat contracted and stung. Don't cry idiot! You don't have the bloody time. He grabbed a quill, and didn't even notice that he had accidentally stabbed himself with it. Blood dribbled on his scrap of parchment.
He's here. I am going to make a run for it. See you soon I hope.
"Take this to Dumbledore, and stay with him alright Hedwig?" His voice cracked. "Be careful, they might be watching for you." The owl hooted quietly, and flew out the window.
He took his broom from the wardrobe and pulled the duffle onto his back. If I put on the cloak they might not even know I've gone till they get to the house. But the Dursleys won't stand a chance. He rifled through his school trunk again, and pulled out a small cloth bag from Zonko's Joke shop. Not really Weasley quality, but it will have to do. He heard his uncle thundering down the hall, and he climbed onto the floating broom. A slight tightening of his hands and he darted out the window. I guess it's time to do something stupidly Gryffindor.
He rose up over the roof of four Privet drive, rotating slowly so that he faced the end of the street. He could just make out the eight death eaters and their master. He pulled the bag from his pocket and gave it a little shake. Filibuster's fire works. He lit the fuses with a little spark from his wand, and then leaned forward on the broom.
The last ward around Privet drive shattered, though any one watching would have seen nothing more unusual then a few wavy lines of heat in the air.
"It is done my lord, we may apparate safely."
Voldemort nodded and in unison they raised their wands, but before any of them could enter the Dursley residence, a shadow darted between them, several stumbled to get out of the way.
"Tag!" shouted a young voice.
"Potter." hissed Voldemort, aiming his wand at the shadow which was rapidly disappearing into the sky.
The bag of fire works exploded, filling the air with colorful sparks and loud explosions. A Death Eater stumbled into the Dark Lord, knocking his wand askew. A bolt of green lightening blew the roof of the top of 13 Privet drive. Muggles swarmed from their houses.
"You," he pointed at the one who had ruined his aim. "Go to Diagon alley. If the boy goes there catch him. You know what failure means." The death eater disappeared. "You three go to Weasley house, the rest surround Hogwarts." They all bowed and disappeared.
Voldemort stood in the middle of the street, watching as the muggles continued to stumble stupidly from their homes. They stared at the figure bathed in the fading red light of the fire works. He waved his hand slowly at the group in front of him.