Twilight Wanderings

"No! Not Harry! Please!" the familiar strained voice shouted. An evil cackle, a flash of light, and it was over once again.

An 8-year-old Harry Potter woke up in confusion. He shivered, wondering about his nightmare as the details faded in his memory, leaving him only wit a vague but all-too-real terror. He clutched the edges of his wrinkled, cotton blanket and trembled in the darkness of his cupboard. He quietly got up and put on his glasses, brushing a spider off his shoulder. Oh-so quietly he crept out of his cupboard, in well-practiced steps, and he tip-toed over to the window. A flash of clear, crisp moonlight cut across his face, and he stared out into the eerie, surreal world of the night. All was quiet except for the swish-swish-swish of the wind and the distant clanging of a motorcar. It began to drizzle lightly. The raindrops seemed to call, "Harry... Harry..." as they splashed onto the windowsill. Harry went back to his cupboard and pulled one of Dudley's old sweaters over his head. He carefully pushed open the front door, looked behind him for telltale signs of the Dursleys, and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Harry didn't know where he was going to go, he just knew he was going. Some strange force seemed to gently compel him. He wasn't going for good, of course, it was just another nighttime wandering. He walked down the street, and felt the cold, wet, gravely pavement under his bare feet. He wished he had put his shoes on, but continues walking anyway. Wide-eyed, he looked around the neighborhood. He strolled on, cold but determined to reach his unknown goal. Block after block, he finally stopped in front of an empty flower-shop. He heard a clang-rattle-bang in the distance. It grew closer, and Harry blinked as the headlights of a bus shined into his eyes. He winced. The city bus drove closer, and screeched to a halt in front of him. He looked into a window of the bus and saw a little girl about his age staring back at him. He looked at her, and she solemnly raised a hand to wave, but the bus pulled away. Harry stood there, staring after the bus, waiting for the unfinished greeting. An old beggar glanced at him, and shuffled around, wondering what a barefoot little boy wearing damp pajamas and an old sweater would be doing on the edges of the downtown area in the middle of the night.

Harry sighed, and the peculiar feeling he had before that had compelled him to leave the house left him. He felt unusually satisfied, as if he had just finished a long, hard journey, and slowly walked back to the house. Not home, he decided. Just back to the house. He had never known "home," but knew that at the moment the stranger on the bus met his eyes, that a special bond occurred. A warm, curiously alive and comfortable feeling spread throughout him, for just a second, and he smiled in the dark. Maybe that feeling was home. Harry hoped it was, and he hoped he would feel it again soon. His mind full of these thoughts, he found himself once again on the porch of #4 Privet Drive. A fragmented vision of a baby boy with jet-black hair passed through his mind without his thinking about it. He put his cold hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment. He opened the door. Looking behind him, Harry savored the last bit of twilight as a cloud passed over the moon. Harry closed the door softly behind him, and went back to his cupboard. Though he was tired, he felt oddly awake in those last moments of night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An eleven-year-old Harry Potter found himself, after much surprise, thought, and an amazingly short amount of time, on the Hogwarts Express going towards the famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry stood up, and looked out the compartment window. His eyes met those of a bushy-haired young girl, and a shiver ran down his spine. They locked eyes for a moment, then, almost as if by instinct, the girls' hand went up as if to wave. A boy bumped into her, wailing about his toad, and the gesture was forgotten. Harry sat down, and again felt a shiver. The girl entered the compartment.

"Hello. My name is Hermione Granger. Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one..." She trailed off and looked at Harry, who smiled, and raised his hand and waved.