Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and The Burden of Becoming

Chapter 8 - Nowhere to Run

He woke the next morning to the sound of a motorcycle driving by. "Or was it a dream?" he thought. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The television was off and on the coffee table stood his mirror, and a black dragonhead. "Gabriella!" he called feebly, but she was gone. He righted himself and went upstairs to get ready.

The cool water of the shower began to bring him back to life. When he returned to his bedroom, he saw his trunk moved squarely to the middle of the room and smiled thinking of Fred, then pushed it back against the wall. Next to his bed was the statue of the dragon he'd received after the first task. "How could she remember the detail?" he thought. For a moment he held it in his hand, then set it back down and moved the trunk back into the corner. He'd dressed and was hopelessly combing his hair, looking at the small, square, silver mirror propped upright on his dresser, when he heard her come through the front door.

"Harry!" she called.

"Up here, Gabriella!" he yelled down.

Before his eyes, the mirror filled with smoke, then opened on to the living room below. In the frame was Gabriella standing by the sofa and looking up the stairs. Her hair hung over her shoulders and in her hand was a mug. She reached down to pick up his shirt which he'd left on the couch the night before.

"Sometimes I wonder," she whispered, folding his shirt in her hands and starting up the stairs.

Quickly he placed the mirror before him face down on his dresser and ran to the hall. "Up here," he called again, coming out to greet her. He stopped in the frame of his bedroom door when the morning owl arrived with the Daily Prophet. "Not now," he thought. He turned back, grabbed the paper, and quickly sent the owl on its way. Gabriella stepped into his room as he tucked the paper into his top drawer. He had just glimpsed the lead headline Dumbledore Announces Changes at Hogwarts, when she walked into his room. The first owl was taking off, as she walked toward the window.

"More post?" she asked. Harry said nothing. "You're right, I promised; no more questions." She handed him the mug. "From Mama," she said smiling. She was looking at Harry, her back toward the window, when he saw another owl flying toward his open window. She caught his eyes looking past her and turned just in time to see the owl fly in and land on her shoulder. She didn't flinch, instead she said quite matter-of-factly, "Another letter?" taking the scroll from the bird.

"They're not suppose to give you other people's post," Harry said. Gabriella handed him the envelope.

"I think he likes me," she said stroking the bird's feathers. Hedwig gave a hoot. "Are you jealous Hedwig? Don't worry, I love you the most." She gave both birds a treat and sent the other on its way. Then she took Hedwig out of her cage and started stroking her feathers sitting on Harry's bed. Harry simply held the letter in his hands. "Well, is it a late birthday card?"

It wasn't; it was clearly from Hogwarts. It had an H stamped in wax on the back. He knew she would notice that; she was feigning ignorance. He looked at the wax seal hesitating to open it, not because Gabriella was there, but because he knew what was in it... the end of summer. Finally, he opened the scroll. It was his class schedule, the list of books and supplies he'd need for the year, and two smaller scrolls of parchment. The first was a short note: "The Hogwarts Express will leave from Platform Nine and Three-quarters on the 1st of September at 11 a.m. sharp."

"It's my class list for the new year," he sighed. "I've got to buy a lot before we leave from King's Cross."

"Well, if you're free today," she said brightly, "we can do a little shopping." Looking down at the letter, he simply shook his head no. He rolled the scroll and slid it into his dresser.

"I have to work for a couple hours this afternoon. Just to finish up some stocking. I'll have to get these things later," he said. "Besides, there's a lot of special stuff I have to get from London."

"London? Oh, I haven't been there yet. I can take you! Shall we go tomorrow?"

Harry took another sip from the mug. "I'm hungry," he said. "I don't suppose your mum...?" Gabriella smiled, shaking her head.

"Let's go," she said. Harry took another sip and opened the second scroll. Looking at the words he began to tremble. "What's the matter?" she asked.

The last parchment was a new Hogsmeade permission slip. It read: "Due to recent events, all students above the second year must obtain signed permission to leave school grounds for any reason other than medical emergencies. This includes, of course, the Hogsmeade outings. Please return the bottom of the parchment with your parent or guardian's signature."

"Harry?" Gabriella asked again, "What's the matter?" Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, squeezing until his fingers turned white, and threw it in the dustbin.

"No problem," he lied trying to bring himself to the present. "Just last night's activities I guess." He took a deep breath. "Let's go," he said with a week smile.

They went downstairs, Harry in the lead, and he quickly stepped to the mirror and dragonhead that were on the table. The mirror simply looked like a mirror now. He laid it flat and walked back to Gabriella. "That's a wonderful gift, thanks." He kissed her. They stepped out the front door and started toward the street. The morning sun was bright in their faces. "I'm starving," he said the sun warming his spirits. He looked back at her with a grin on his face and stopped dead. His jaw fell to his chest, his eyes wide. Gabriella turned back to the house to see what he was looking at. There, in the driveway, was a motorcycle with a large red bow.

"I didn't see that when I came in!" she exclaimed.

It was gorgeous. The bike was black and chrome. It had low-rise handlebars and wire-laced wheels. On the black leather seat was a large note. The two of them stepped up to it and Harry removed the paper. It was from Hagrid

Harry,

I've heard you got your papers to drive. I figure this belongs to you now. Sirius would want it that way. They tell me the Dursleys are being nice to you this summer. I don't believe it for a second. If they give you a problem, let me know.

Happy Birthday,

Hagrid

Harry looked at Gabriella. "It's a present, from a friend."

"A friend? You're kidding, right? This is spectacular!"

"Well, it was my godfather's, see, and...." he couldn't finish. He began to tremble again. He touched the handlebars and then put his hand on the seat. Once, Sirius had sat here. Once, Hagrid carried Harry to Privet Drive in a basket while his mother and father lay murdered. Gabriella held him by the shoulders.

"I see your heart again, Harry." She took his hand and turned him around. "It was your godfather's?" He nodded, unable to speak. "And now it's yours?" Again, he nodded. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, but he wasn't going to cry. "Then let's give it a try?" she said in matter-of-fact tone. "He wouldn't want you to have a bike you couldn't ride, would he?" Harry blinked.

"But I... I can't," he stammered. "I've never..." but then her words echoed in his ears.

"Don't be silly," she said simply. "If you need to ride, you'll learn. I've been on a few motorbikes before, none as nice as this. It won't be too difficult, but we need to get helmets first. Maybe today at work?"

Suddenly it seemed so obvious to Harry. Of course he could learn to ride a motorcycle. He worked in a sporting-goods store and had a teacher that lived right across the street. He suddenly had a vision of himself on the bike, flying through the air with Gabriella holding his waist. Well, maybe flying along the ground, for now anyway. His stomach gave a lurch. "Let's eat," he said, and the two walked across the street, saving the motorcycle for the afternoon.

When they walked in, Grigor and Soseh were seated in the living room. Soseh was reading a book and Grigor the paper. It had been some time since he'd seen Grigor in the house. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't heard any arguments for ages. Still, Harry sensed tension in the air. Neither would look at the other. Perhaps it was just the stress of moving. When Soseh saw Harry, she stood up.

"Ah, Harry." She stopped, and looked at him with concern. "You look pale? Are you ill?" she asked, and held her hand to the side of his face. For a moment, her eyes closed, but then she shook her head no, and slipped her hand away. "Perhaps you are just hungry. Your family is away for the weekend? You'll starve! Come, sit down." Harry thought that it didn't much matter if Aunt Petunia was cooking or not, but an excuse for extra desert was worth holding on to.

He stuffed himself to overflowing and was ready to burst when Grigor closed his paper and stood up. Carefully, he folded it four times and tucked it next to the couch. He walked to the dining table and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Are you finished Harry?" Harry had a few more bites he was debating on, but something in the tone of Mr. Darbinyan's voice said it was time to be done. Harry set his fork down.

"Yes, sir. Your wife is a wonderful cook."

Grigor smiled. "She is wonderful at many things, Harry. At cooking, she is a goddess!"

Soseh glanced back to him from the kitchen, but did not smile.

Grigor looked back to Harry. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure." Harry stood up and followed Grigor to a study just off the stairs to the second floor. He'd never been in this room. In the center was a large wooden desk. It was covered in papers, some of which were in the midst of being graded. On the walls were pictures of galaxies and planets. All around were charts of stars and constellations. There were a number of small telescopes that seemed to be just for display and a small library of texts on astronomy, astrology and physics. Grigor motioned to a small leather chair next to the desk.

"Please sit," he said. Grigor sat down himself behind the desk, the faintest pleasantry of a smile on his face. "I understand you've been seeing a lot of my daughter?" he asked.

Instantly, Harry's heart began to race. "Yes, sir," he said.

"And, I understand that last night you stayed out quite late, yes?"

Harry hadn't been sure when Gabriella had left. She might not have been home till early in the morning. He stayed the course and said only, "Yes, sir."

"Gabriella is a very lonely girl, Harry. We have taken her away from her home, her friends, everything she has ever known. It was only natural that she should come to admire the first person in England that showed her kindness." Grigor spoke as if explaining planetary motion. Harry did not like where this was going. "You have known each other for only a few weeks, yes?" Harry nodded, but it had been more than a few.

Grigor continued, "In a few more weeks, I understand that you will be heading back to your school, a school that provides special rehabilitation."

Harry's heart sank. Grigor had heard of St Brutus's, but how? He was afraid for his daughter. He was thinking Harry wasn't good enough for her. His heart began to pound in his ears and every pore broke out in a cold mist.

"Perhaps it would be wise," Grigor said, as he stood adjusting the knob on one of his telescopes, "if you simply agreed to go your separate ways at that time." Harry couldn't stand it; he had to defend himself.

"But..." Harry sputtered. Grigor cut him off.

"My boy there are things about Gabriella you could never comprehend." His voice was raised. He straightened a stack of papers on his desk, and sighed. "It is possible that when you return next summer you will find your lives still aligned. It would be wise to give Gabriella the time and space she needs to make such a decision." Harry sat, unable to speak. What was he supposed to do, just forget that she ever existed? Grigor, held open his hand to escort Harry to the door. His knees felt weak, but he stood and walked across the room. Just before he came to the door, Grigor held out his hand to shake Harry's, but instead of holding his hand he reached to his forearm. Harry did likewise. Locked in this foreign handshake Grigor, his eyes stern, finished with, "Harry, this was a conversation between men. Please keep it that way." Harry nodded, they shook, and Harry walked out. As the door shut behind him, his head began to spin.

He looked about, but Gabriella had gone. Soseh was at the kitchen sink still doing dishes. Harry had to look twice. She was working that same pan when he'd left the room. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt, but would not look toward Harry. What was he to do, just leave? His head was light and the floor beneath his feet seemed to be giving way when he heard Gabriella's voice.

"Are you two done?" she said brightly. "We'd better hurry; you'll be late for work." She had no clue. No sense of what had just been said.

"Yeah," Harry said, "we'd better get going." He felt pale and shaky.

"Are you okay?" She stepped to his side and whispered in his ear, "Remember this next time you decide to have an extra cup of Duncan's punch." She pinched him on the side and grinned. "Let's go, I'll drive and you can rest. Bye Mama!" There was no answer. As Harry went out the door, Soseh was still washing the same pan.

In the car, Harry was numb. Gabriella was jubilant explaining the various aspects of riding a motorcycle. By the time they arrived at the shop, all Harry wanted to do was climb in to bed and never wake up. He kissed her goodbye and they made plans to meet mid-afternoon to start practicing on the motorcycle.

Inside the shop Duncan was busy with a customer. Harry went over to the winter goods and began to finish what he'd started the day before. It was tedious, monotonous work un-boxing merchandise and placing it on the appropriate shelves. His mind raced. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken to her father. He didn't know Harry at all. Did he think he was a street bum? Some gloves made their way onto the shelf for scarves. It was a lie. Harry could prove it! He could take care of Gabriella better than any.... He crumpled to the floor, his face in his hands. It wasn't a lie. It was true. How could he ever take care of Gabriella? How could he ever grow to spend the rest of his life with her? Harry was a wizard, and she was a Muggle. He grabbed a ski hat and wiped his face. And if he did bring her into his life, what then? There was a very real possibility that Harry wouldn't live to see the next year. He'd never know if their lives were still aligned or not. He couldn't put her at risk of death. What if Voldemort found out? Harry stood up and began walking to the back of the store; he was feeling sick.

"Hey, mate, hold on, I haven't opened 'em up yet." Duncan ran towards Harry holding a set of keys. They got to the men's room and he unlocked the door. "Bit too much last night, eh?" he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. Harry just nodded and went inside. Duncan followed. What he needed was air and this wasn't it. He tried to splash water on his face, but it just made him wet and miserable.

"Give it some time, Harry. We're pretty slow today, if you want to take off." Harry just shook his head. He couldn't bear the thought of heading home to Privet Drive, not now. "Suit yourself." Duncan leaned against the paper towels. "Harry, I've been thinkin'. You're as bright as they come. I'm guessin' you could run this place if you wanted to." There was a long pause as Duncan grabbed some paper towels and shot baskets into the trash. "I hate this hell hole. But you knew that, Harry, didn't you." Another shot made the mark. "I need to get out of Little Whinging. I need... I need to be rid of my folks." His last shot missed wide and he leaned back against the towels again. "Mr. Fettle's wantin' to set up another shop in South Benton. Says I could run it if I wanted to. Emma's been begging me to get out of Little Whinging. She's been talkin' to the coaches at the University and might even get a track scholarship there." He paced to the door. "Well, I was thinkin'... I was thinkin' what I need is a partner. Someone I can trust to run the place when I'm not there. I was thinkin' maybe you could cut out of St. Brutus's, or wherever it is they make you go, and give it a try with me." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan held up his hand.

"Now I know you're in no state of mind to be makin' a big decision like this. I just want to let you know I'm thinkin' about it, that's all. The money'll be ten times better mate. You'll be able to have your own place, and buy your own car to drive Gabriella around in." Duncan opened the door. "Look, mate, take as long as you need in here. If you want to work, work, and if you need to go, go. We can talk more about business later, there's plenty of time." He left Harry, alone, staring at the door, as it swung shut.

Harry chose to work. He needed the time to think, to set his mind straight, but the direction his mind was headed started to twist off the tracks. He wasn't poor. He had a vault full of galleons at Gringotts, but he knew that wouldn't last him his whole life--certainly not if he was to have a family. The thought of leaving the Wizarding world was emblazoned in his mind. He'd leave the rest to sort out Voldemort. He'd have a well-paying, respectable job and Mr. Darbinyan would see that Harry was good enough for his daughter. She'd graduate next year and come to live with Harry in South Benton. It seemed so simple, really. He'd made friends in Little Whinging; he could do it again. Besides, his mind flashed red, they don't think I'm capable of handling the fight anyway. They've got Ron and Hermione out there. They don't think they need Harry, but they'll see! "They'll see!" he yelled out loud. A few customers turned to look. His mind was on fire. By the time Gabriella walked into the store, his decision had been made. He would spend the rest of his life with her, and leave the Wizarding world behind.

She was with Duncan laughing about something when he came up to her. "Hi Harry!" she said. He put his hands to her face, drew her close, and kissed her.

"I love you," he said. "You know that don't you?"

"Of course," her voice skipped, "why?" He had a look about him she'd never seen before. She knew something was wrong and it wasn't last night's party.

"And you... you said you didn't want me to leave, right?"

"I did, Harry, but..."

"Well, that's it then," he continued, "isn't it?" He was looking out the window nodding his head up and down as if coming to agreement with an imaginary person.

Duncan took him by the shoulders. "Come on, mate, let Gabriella get you home. You need to rest. Remember what I said, there's plenty of time, so take it." Harry spun on Duncan.

"No! There's no time." His eyes were wide. "Helmets! Gabriella, we need to get helmets!" He ran to the back of the store. Moments later he returned with two helmets and a wild smile on his face. "I love sporting goods, don't you?"

On their way home Harry was silent, but alert. His eyes fixed ahead, unblinking. Gabriella was worried. In his mind, he was putting it all together. How would he get rid of his things... his magical things? Hagrid might take them. He could just trash the lot. He really didn't have any family left, and certainly there wasn't anybody who gave a damn about what he was up to. He'd keep the motorcycle though; he could use that to get around town. He could get Bill to cash out his Gringotts account and have it exchanged for pounds. With Fred and George opening another store in Hogsmeade, they were bound to stay successful; they could keep sending him the occasional dividend. He had more than enough to get a place to stay and with the money from the new job he could keep up the rent, buy food, do whatever he wanted. "Yes, yes, that's it," he muttered to himself.

He was smiling as they pulled into Gabriella's driveway, but it was an unnatural smile.

"Harry," she said, "I think you should lie down for awhile."

He looked at her as if she were mad. "Are you kidding? There's no time! You said you'd teach me how to ride the bike. Let's do it!" He was possessed, and would not be deterred, so Gabriella, growing more concerned with each passing minute, agreed. By the time the sun began to set, Harry had become as good, if not better, on the motorcycle than she.

"Just like riding a Firebolt," he whispered. His thoughts turned to flying, but he squashed them like a flobberworm under his foot. He refused to stop to eat, or drink despite Gabriella's pleadings. If Harry wasn't exhausted, she was.

"Come on Harry, it's time to go home."

"Yes, yes," he said, "there's a lot to be done. I've got to finish before they get back."

"Before who gets back? The Dursleys? What do you have to finish?" Gabriella was desperate. She didn't know what was going on, but Harry remained silent, flipping the visor on his helmet down and heading off to Privet Drive with her holding him tight around the waist.

He was traveling too fast when they passed through a red light near the park. On the opposite corner was a police car. Immediately its lights went on and it pulled out behind Harry.

"Harry," Gabriella called out in the rushing wind, "pull over. You ran a red light." Harry shook his head and sped up. The siren began to blare. "Harry, slow down, you're going too fast!" But he wouldn't listen; he didn't have time to stop and talk to policemen. They'd want to know things: things Harry didn't have time to tell them. He turned left onto the street where Duncan lived, but he couldn't hold it. The bike began to give way beneath him.

It all happened in slow motion. He could hear Gabriella scream, hold tight to his waist and then slip away. His body flew in the air toward the sidewalk. Sparks flashed as his bike scraped the pavement. The right side of his body slid along stones. He bounced hard against the sidewalk and rolled onto the grass. The bike hit the curb and leapt into the air, over his head, landing against some bushes. He heard the screech of brakes, the silencing of the siren. "Gabriella?" he thought. "Where's Gabriella?" Fighting the pain, he forced himself to one knee and saw her face-down on the pavement. The new white helmet he had bought hours before was scraped black. He took off his own helmet, stood up and stepped toward her. His right side wanted to buckle, but he refused. She needed his help. One step. "Please be okay." Two steps. "Move, just move!" Three steps. "I didn't. I couldn't have."

He was upon her lifeless body when a car door slammed. There was a clicking sound across the street. He heard a voice, distant at first, and then clear and strong. "... I said, move away from her, boy!" It was the policeman. He was walking straight at them with a baton in his hand. "Step away!"

It didn't make sense. Harry's head burst with pain. He had to protect her. He felt rage like he'd never felt before. He knew he had no wand, but his soul was on fire. Instinctively, he raised his right arm and from somewhere deep inside, a place Harry had never been before, he cried out, "NOOOO!" Red light erupted from his arm and through his hand. It hit the policeman squarely in the chest lifting him off the ground, and smashing him against a van parked across the street. The officer dropped to the ground in a heap.

Harry ignored him and turned to Gabriella's body. Slowly, he turned her over. "Gabriella, come on baby, wake up." He stroked her arm. He lifted the visor on her helmet and looked upon her face. "Please baby, we're safe now." There was nothing. "We're going to South Benton with Duncan, you and me." Tears were falling down his face. "I've got it all planned. Next summer, we'll watch the sunset on the Mediterranean, I swear." He held her tight and closed his eyes. "Please... please Gabriella, wake up." Suddenly, he heard voices. A woman across the street screamed. His head began to spin, but it became crystal clear what he must do next. He kissed her cold hand, his own trembling, and whispered, "I've got to go baby. I'll be with you soon." He stood up and limped unsteadily toward the motorcycle. The engine was still running. Wincing, he pulled his leg over the seat, and sped away.