Chapter 61: Harry Goes Home
Although surrounded by classmates—his best friends—Harry felt like an outsider. He felt like a solitary wildling, a wandering soul adrift. He longed for the emotions and warmth that everyone else seemed to possess. In moments like this, he truly felt his difference; he was, undeniably, special.
The train moved steadily forward. Outside the window, the countryside grew greener, houses more frequent. The train passed town after town, and even pedestrians could be seen in the distance. The other passengers grew increasingly excited and cheerful—but Harry's heart only grew colder.
The train arrived at King's Cross Station, stopping at Platform 9¾.
Passengers poured from the train like a tide, forming a long line to leave the platform one by one, ensuring that the sudden surge of people wouldn't reveal the station's secret to Muggles.
Harry struggled to drag his heavy trunk off the platform. People on the way greeted him warmly, but he felt awkward.
Sometimes, not all enthusiasm or kindness brings happiness. People passed by, greeting him: "Goodbye, Harry." "Happy holidays, Potter." Some even called out indiscriminately, "Happy return home, Harry."
It embarrassed him. Couldn't they see him alone?
Harry's situation differed from Hermione, Ron, and George. Their families were there to meet them at the platform. But when Harry got off the train, he didn't see the Dursleys waiting—which relieved him, though a tinge of disappointment lingered.
The Granger family embraced Hermione tightly; they seemed almost to enjoy crying.
Ron's mother had a group of children with her. One little girl spotted Ron and shouted, "Mom! He's over there! Ron's over there! And Harry Potter! Look!" That was Ron's sister, Ginny.
George's family greeted him—a tall, elegant, blonde woman. As soon as he saw her, George ignored everyone else and left straight away.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione's families had come to meet them, but before they could continue the greetings, the trio dragged their heavy trunks out of the station.
Harry stepped outside and hailed a taxi. "4 Privet Drive, please."
"Are you traveling alone?" the tall, slim driver with a beard asked incredulously as he helped Harry load his trunk into the boot.
"Yes. I want to go back now," Harry replied softly.
Struggling with the heavy trunk made Harry long for the ease of having his wand in hand. He dusted off his clothes and got into the taxi.
"Hey, kid, how can your family let you ride the train alone? That's child neglect! They should be punished under the law," the bearded driver said angrily, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Thank you, sir, but I need to go home now," Harry replied cautiously, looking out the window.
Harry didn't dislike his uncle; they simply hadn't come to meet him. If he could, he would never see them again. He would rather stay at school.
"Parents like that are so irresponsible. I have a daughter your age. Every time she goes out, I check on her again and again. Yes, it's unsafe without a teacher. Did you bring enough food and drinks? When should I come pick her up?"
The driver navigated the taxi steadily along Privet Drive, continuing to share stories about his daughter.
Harry looked at the familiar-yet-strange Privet Drive and felt a sense of detachment, as if he had entered another world.
The driver's enthusiasm was infectious. He praised Harry for being so self-reliant and also vented his anger at Harry's irresponsible family, even suggesting Harry's school introduce him to his daughter.
Harry hurriedly responded to the driver's enthusiasm. He couldn't tell him that he was attending a school called Hogwarts, a school of magic.
The driver eventually broke off the conversation. Once Harry stepped out of the taxi, his mood lightened. Summer would soon pass, and he could focus on meditation, ready to return to school when it reopened.
"I just wish time would pass faster," Harry murmured, dragging his heavy trunk toward the familiar-yet-strange house.
Harry missed Hogwarts so intensely that his stomach ached. He poured himself a glass of water and imagined Hogwarts' special fruit juice. Eating at home felt like chewing wax; he longed to be back at school, chatting leisurely at the table with friends. He thought of Hermione's big brown eyes, their joyful conversations beneath the trees that seemed endless.
He missed the castle, the secret passages, the ghosts, his lessons, his training. He missed Hermione, Ron, George, Neville, and everyone he knew.
Thinking of George, Harry opened a drawer and found a letter from him on top. There weren't many letters, and George's handwriting was concise—typical of him. The letter asked about Harry's meditation progress and urged him to spend extra time practicing over the summer. A £5,000 check was attached, ensuring Harry wouldn't lack funds and could continue his training without interruption.
"Everything he does is amazing," Harry muttered, reading the letter again and again.
Harry lay on his bed, holding the letter to his forehead, examining it carefully by the lamplight. This was the only letter he had received for the entire summer.
"When I return to school, I must tell everyone about Ron and Hermione. They had such a wonderful summer, and they promised to write to me," Harry thought carefully, folding the letter along its original creases and returning it, along with the £5,000 check, exactly as it had arrived.
Life at his uncle's house had gone on for several years. While it was better than before, he was still confined to the cupboard. He had learned magic, so Dudley dared not bully him, but his uncle's family, the most malicious bunch, still shouted and intimidated him with threats and violence.
"Everyone, be sure to give this story a Powerstone! Also, 30 advanced chapters of this story are uploaded on my Patreon—you can go there and read them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for 30 advanced chapter, visit my patreon
'patreon.com/fatimasoomro123'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"