Family Home

It was finally time. Time to move out, move on and leave them behind. Harry had come back to the Dursley's at Number Four Privet Drive one last time. He wasn't there to pack precisely. He just needed to be one hundred percent sure he had everything of his. Ron, Hermione, Remus and Ginny had come. For support they'd said. They waited downstairs, contemplating what it all meant.

Look at this photograph
Every time I do it makes me laugh

Hermione looked through the pictures on the wall of Dudley, Dudley and Dudley again. Her parents' home had similar pictures. Images of her at her nursery school graduation, at her grandmother's eightieth birthday party, her ballet recital when she was nine, all of them all over the walls. But there were none here of Harry. No small monuments to his childhood achievements, no pictures of his first bike, his birthdays, nothing. It was as though he'd never been there. The memories she could see in every corner of her own home in old school projects still on bookshelves and photos commemorating special event just didn't exist for Harry.

How did our eyes get so red
And what the hell is on Joey's head?

Remus looked at the place his best friend's son grew up. He'd flipped through Harry's photo album once, chatting with Harry about the stories behind the pictures there. This one was of the time James had gotten stuck halfway through a window sneaking back into the dorm one night, that one was the time Andrew McAllister had turned a prank back on the Marauders leaving James with a hedgehog glued to his head.

Harry had returned those comments with his own stories behind his pictures. There weren't any really. No candid shots taken by friends when he was caught doing something hideously embarrassing, nothing happened right before or after they were taken, none were memories of special events. Only quidditch match parties rated pictures, and even those looked posed. Or rather, Harry looked posed. Even when he was caught in the moment, usually be Colin Creevy, Harry looked fully aware.

Always aware of the fact that he was being watched. Knowing that anything he did out of the ordinary would appear in the papers, Harry had no stories of getting drunk and being caught by McGonagall, of snogging a girl behind the greenhouses, nothing. Even Ron and Hermione had a couple of those. Harry had no stories.

Well, he had tales of rescuing maidens in distress, defeating monsters and taking on evil wizards, but he had no tales of pranks, dates or entertaining detentions. He was always too aware of who and what he was.

This is where I grew up
I think the present owner fixed it up
I never knew we ever went without
The second floor is hard for sneakin' out

Ron considered Number Four and compared it to the Burrow. Contrasted it with the warmth and hominess of his home. The comfortable clutter, the noise seemed all the more pervasive compared to the white, empty rooms. The only clutter in the house were those pictures on the walls of Harry's cousin. Those pictures, staring out at Ron from the walls served to make Ron more aware of everything he'd never had growing up.

Everything Harry had never had. Harry hadn't had new clothes. He hadn't had the toys and games that all the other children took for granted. Ron could recall meeting other children and seeing that they had brooms or toys or posters or ice cream and wanting those things. Seeing all those pictures of Dudley with expensive shiny things and nothing of Harry, brought home how little his friend had growing up.

While Ron could remember never getting anything past his Mum and being told over and over that they couldn't get that because they didn't have the galleons for it, he could also remember hot chicken soup when he was sick, comforting hugs when he was scared or hurt and the happiness on his parents' faces when he came home from school. But Harry couldn't. He could remember getting nothing past the Dursleys, but it was because even if they couldn't pin anything on him they did anyhow. And he would never remember being tucked in at night or being given biscuits just because he was there and they were fresh from the oven.

And this is where I went to school
Most of the time had better things to do
Criminal record says I broke in twice
I must've done it half a dozen times

Ginny looked around with interest at the muggle house. She'd never been in one before and it was all so different. And clean. And sterile. And so very much like the mask Harry always wore when he was in public.

Everyone always thought she was the nice one. The sweet one. The one who never got in trouble save that thing in her first year she carefully tried not to think about. Ginny was the one no one ever realised did the pranks. She liked her anonymity and the way it meant no one watched her so that she could get away with things. She'd been caught from time to time, everyone was, but most teachers passed it off as the bad influence of Fred and George.

Harry had broken rules too, but he'd always done so for a higher purpose. Helping Hagrid, saving Hermione, the Philosopher's Stone, she could come up with no time in her memory that he had broken the rules for any reason other than a good one. Even the flying car thing was a product of Ron and panic, not some joyride. Ron had sometimes muttered about one incident or another where Harry hadn't been trying to do the right thing, but even he had trouble coming up with examples.

Thing was, outside of those incidents to save the world and the infrequent panic attack, Harry had never broken a single rule as far as Ginny was aware. Not one. He was a paragon of virtue unlike her.

I wonder if it's too late
Should I go back and try to graduate?
Life's better now than it was back then
If I was them I wouldn't let me in oh oh oh
Oh god I...

Harry had always felt that Hogwarts was home. Leaving before his final year hurt like nothing else. He couldn't help but second guess himself.

Every memory of lookin' out the back door
I got the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Hermione had a flat picked out. She was moving away from her parents' place to London. It was so hard to leave. It was comforting, familiar and she knew it would be a long time before she could think of her new flat as home instead of the place she had called home for so many years. But Harry was completely unaffected at the move. He had no regrets, no wishes to stay and hang on to his childhood and the safety of home. Perhaps because he had never known a home where he felt he was indisputably safe and welcome.

All his memories of this place were wrapped up in a desperate unhappiness and desire to escape. Hogwarts was his home, but even there, the supposedly safest place in the world, he had never been truly safe and truly welcome. It had been the adulatory welcome of fans and the polite welcome you give disliked in-laws. You cannot turn them away and you must be polite, but it rarely means there is true liking there.

Harry had no trouble leaving here. It was a roof over his head and little else that was good.

Every memory of walkin' out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was lookin' for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Remus' parents had photos of all of the Marauders scattered through their house before they were killed. He had gone hunting through it, just days after their deaths, just days after Sirius had been arrested for the murder of Peter Pettigrew. He had found dozens of pictures on the walls of the best friends anyone could ever have asked for. Years later Remus had returned to find the house still empty and some of those pictures still hidden around the place. Photos that had vanished into cracks and behind baseboards. Harry would never find those here. Everything he wanted, everything that he had ever had to call his own was carefully hidden in specific places.

Harry didn't even look sorry about it. But then, he didn't know what it was he was missing. Perhaps he never would. He'd never had a place that was truly his own and with his life, seemingly claimed by the masses of wizards and witches who looked to him to save them, he might never truly find a place.

Remember the old arcade?
Blew every dollar that we ever made
The cops hated us hangin' out
They say somebody went and burned it down

Ron could clearly recall running wild around Ottery-St-Catchpole with his brothers, some of the other kids around the town and even Luna Lovegood sometimes. They had never been doing anything specific, they'd just been trying to find something interesting to do. Sometimes he'd just spend the whole day sitting by the pond, watching the ducks and thinking about school, friends, life and whatever else crossed his mind. Whole days had been spent out there, only coming in when his mother had called him in to degnome the garden or yell at him to pick up his room.

Harry had run around the neighbourhood of Privet Drive, but it had not been enjoying the wild freedom of being six and unsupervised. He had never had long days to sit peacefully and just enjoy the quiet. He'd always been running from Dudley, running from the local bullies or running to make sure he wasn't spotted by anyone before he made it back to Number Four. Harry had long days of nothing to do, but those had been deliberately enforced and had usually involved long hours of loneliness and memories he should have been distracted from not immersed in for lack of anything else to do.

So many places held memories for Ron, places he could point a finger to and tell a story about. With everything Harry's life had been on Privet Drive, the only places that held memories for him held bad ones, and there were precious few outside of Number Four.

We used to listen to the radio
And sing along with every song we'd know
We said someday we'd find out how it feels
To sing to more than just the steering wheel

Ginny could remember having dreams and ambitions and all sorts of imaginary worlds and places. She'd dreamt of being rich and famous, of being a quidditch star, of discovering a cure for lycanthropy. Like all children she'd wanted to be something else every other day. Ballerina on Monday and teacher by Thursday. Her parents had encouraged her, told her she could be anything she wanted to be (except that pretty lady she'd later found out was Mr. Driscoll's mistress) and had made sure she had every opportunity to do so no matter the money spent.

Harry had no dreams. He wanted to be an auror. Not because he dreamed of taking on the bad guys and saving the universe, but because he wanted to live. Because the training he would get as an auror would give him the opportunity to survive the next time he was attacked. He didn't want anything. He just wanted to live long enough to have had something like a life. He'd never been allowed to dream. His dreams were small ones. Dreams of survival. Dreams of food, friends, family, affection, kindness. He didn't want fame or fortune. He wanted to know what it felt like to just be.

Kim's the first girl I kissed
I was so nervous that I nearly missed
She's had a couple of kids since then
I haven't seen her since God knows when oh oh oh
Oh god I...

Harry did envy the others the freedom they had to date. He wondered whether Cho would be the only girl he ever kissed.

Every memory of lookin' out the back door
I got the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Hermione couldn't help but compare herself to Harry and think how she pitied him his upbringing. She glanced around at the photos of Dudley all over the walls, grinning at the camera capturing his happy and spoiled childhood for posterity, and couldn't help but shudder at the way Harry simply wasn't there.

The Dursleys had exorcised him from their life before he'd even left.

There was nothing of Harry here.

Every memory of walkin' out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was lookin' for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Remus wanted so badly to give Harry the childhood he'd missed. Make Harry a place where he could point and say that he had a place to go home to. He wanted for Harry to remember what it was like to know that as long as he was in that place he was safe. Not the simple physical safety provided by wards but the sensation of knowing to your core that you were safe.

He hadn't been merely deprived of things and affection, he'd been deprived of the most visceral sensations children have from childhood.

There was nothing to hold Harry here.

I miss that town, I miss the faces
You can't erase, you can't replace it
I miss it now, I can't believe it
So hard to stay, too hard to leave it

Ron knew Harry would never miss Surrey. He'd never compare it to somewhere else and think that where he was lacked that special something that made it home. So much time had been spent in terror and loneliness there that he could never look back and think of it as irreplaceable.

The whole town seemed unlike Harry. It wasn't as intense, as strong or as resilient. There was no one there who would welcome him home. Not friends, family or the ghosts of years past.

There was no one keeping Harry here.

If I could relive those days
I know the one thing that would never change

Ginny wished Harry could look back with fondness and a desire to return. But he never would. There was nothing he wouldn't change about his upbringing. Yes, it had made him into the person he was today, but he would always look back and see what he lacked, because he had no upbringing. He simply had a period in his life when he was not physically mature.

He'd been hurt, scolded, belittled and bruised, both emotionally and physically. His so-called family had been no help with his problems. He had no friends just down the street and nothing he didn't want to leave behind.

There was nothing holding Harry here.

Every memory of lookin' out the back door

Seeing the weeds built up in the back yard and knowing he'd have to spend all day working just to clear them. Standing there and knowing that he was never going to finish fast enough to please his aunt and uncle. Harry had once told Hermione about the summers he spent working in the Dursleys' back yard. No, it wouldn't be hard for him to say farewell to the Dursleys. She just wished he knew what he was missing.

I got the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor

The bedroom that was grudgingly donated by the Dursleys out of fear that someone would hurt them. The bedroom that was once a broom cupboard. A bedroom that was the place to put Dudley's old cast-offs. The places you put things when you didn't want anyone to see them. Remus could remember how loved and cared for Harry had been when his parents were still alive. How wanted. It hurt to see how little Harry recalled of that.

It's hard to say it, time to say it

Goodbye, goodbye

No. It wasn't at all hard to leave.

Every memory of walkin' out the front door

Being told his family was glad he wasn't going to be back for a long time. A family who were upset he hadn't gotten himself killed when he had the chance. Ron couldn't imagine living like that. Couldn't imagine having his family wish him dead. It hurt when Percy turned his back on them. How did you live your life with that being the status quo?

I found the photo of the friend that I was lookin' for

Ginny saw him come down the stairs holding a couple small items which he quickly tossed into his trunk. She knew he'd hidden them under the loose floorboard under his bed. He'd told her about his hiding places. Where most boys his age hid top shelf magazines with pictures of half-naked girls, he hid pictures of his family and friends.

It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Harry turned to them. He frowned slightly as he took in the expressions on their faces. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione cracked first. "Oh Harry!" she exclaimed and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his bemused form. "You aren't . . . and I didn't . . . I just wish you knew, but you don't!"

The Dursleys stared from the kitchen door, unnoticed by the wizards and witches gathered in the front hall.

Remus had tears in his eyes as he contemplated James and Lily's son. "Your parents would be so proud of you Harry. So proud of you and so angry with me." This only further confused Harry.

Ron's eyes were also suspiciously bright. "I just didn't get it until now Harry. And now that I do . . . I don't even know what to say."

"What?" Harry asked.

Ginny sighed and wrapped her arms around Harry as Hermione finally let him go. His arms reflexively found their way around her waist even as he leaned back, looked her in the eye and asked, "Do you know what's going on?"

"There are no photographs of you," she started. Harry frowned again and nodded encouragingly. "There's nothing of you here. It was your home for all these years and your family was so awful you don't care that you're leaving."

Harry looked at them and suddenly smiled. He pulled a photo album out of his trunk, flipped it open to a candid shot from the Burrow of Molly Weasley fussing over Harry. He'd taken a fall moments before the shot was taken and she was trying to smear a healing salve into all sorts of embarrassing places. He showed them the picture. "Do you remember this?" he asked.

Look at this photograph

Before they could nod he continued. "I was home the day Fred took this picture. Now that I'm no longer completely humiliated by it, I find it really funny. My family was all there laughing at me for being so distracted by a pretty redhead on a broomstick they still mock me over my mum trying to yank my pants down in front of my girlfriend to get at the bruises on my arse." He turned to them. "My family is nine wonderful redheads, a brunette muggleborn witch, a werewolf and a metamorphmagus who usually has pink hair."

Every time I do it makes me laugh

Ginny flung herself at Harry again and kissed him. A minute later his trunk was closed and they were making their way to the Burrow. Harry paused and looked at the building that had housed him since he was a one-year-old.

Every time I do it makes me...

He shook his head and apparated home after the rest of his family.