Nothing Hidden

FOREWORD

As we all know, at the end of Book 4 Harry leaves Hogwarts for the summer, gets into the Dursleys' car with Uncle Vernon, and is presumably on his way home. For those who need a reminder, I quote the last two paragraphs of the book.

"There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car. As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come . . . and he would have to meet it when it did."

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Uncle Vernon did not speak to Harry as they drove through London on their way to the Dursleys' home. Harry gazed silently out the window at the passing streets and buildings, glad that this time his Uncle chose to ignore him rather than berate and abuse him. His thoughts were dark, there was nothing to distract him as tormenting images swam through his mind.

They were close to Privet Drive when Harry began to notice that something was not right. A fire truck passed them, horn blaring. People gathered in small groups on the sidewalks, craning their necks after the truck, talking excitedly.

As they turned onto Privet Drive, Harry's mouth fell open in a gasp of horror. Where Number Four had stood, there was nothing but smoldering ash and charred debris.

The car screeched to a halt, still half a block from the blackened tract; fire trucks and news crews blocked the rest of the way. Uncle Vernon, seemingly in slow motion, stepped out of the car and slowly, dizzily, began to weave his way between the vehicles clogging the street. Harry remained in the car, rooted to the seat, frozen in place by the overwhelming shock he had just received.

Because he knew what this was.

This was no ruptured gas pipe, though later Muggle news may report it as such. Only one thing could cause such devastation.

A sudden rush of adrenaline caused Harry to jerk forward, as though the car's seat had released him without warning. He fumbled with the door, not knowing what exactly he would do once he was out of the car, knowing only that he had to get out. In his haste every action seemed prolonged; the car door seemed stuck; his fingers felt rigid; his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose making it difficult to focus. What was wrong with the blasted door handle! The sweat on his palms made it difficult to grasp the curved metal. Harry pushed at the door with his shoulder and it finally opened, nearly spilling him onto the road.

Once out of the car, he looked wildly around, the noise and disarray assaulting his senses. His throat tightened as an acrid burning smell reached his nostrils. He was disoriented, his only clear thought was that he must put some distance between himself and this scene of destruction.

He began to back away, his eyes still riveted to the ruins of the Dursleys' home, his legs feeling as if they belonged to someone else, and backed into someone standing behind him. Heart thudding, he whirled around, a strangled cry bursting from deep within him. He found himself face to face with Mr. Weasley, who looked as shell-shocked and disheveled as Harry felt. Mr. Weasley's eyes were glued to the debris-riddled patch of land where Number Four had previously stood.

Harry desperately wanted to speak, but words did not come to him. Moments passed that might as well have been hours. Then, Mr. Weasley's eyes abruptly focused on Harry, and he seemed to remember what he was there to do.

"Come along Harry, quickly!" he grasped Harry by the upper arm and steered him away from the crowd.

Two Ministry cars were parked down the street. Mr. Weasley held open the door of one car and Harry, still feeling numb, climbed into the back seat. The door shut, muffling the noise outside, but the roar remained inside Harry's head. Through the tinted window he could see Mr. Weasley having an animated conversation with another man. He seemed to be gesturing toward the Dursleys' car, abandoned in the middle of the street.

Hedwig! Harry remembered his owl and felt a rush of guilt. He had left her without a thought in the back of the Dursleys' car. In his haste to escape he had forgotten all about his loyal companion, but now some sense was coming back to him. He scrambled across the seat and tried to pry the door open, his fingers again refusing to cooperate.

The door came open, opened from the outside by Mr. Weasley. He held Hedwig's cage in his arms. Harry took the cage from him and wrapped his arms protectively around it, his nose and chin pressing painfully into the bars.

Mr. Weasley got into the driver's seat and turned to look at Harry. Harry felt his eyes on him but did not move.

The car turned around, maneuvering through traffic and curious onlookers, and turned onto a side street, leaving Privet Drive behind.

How long they drove, Harry could not tell. His mind was numb, thoughts came delayed and fragmented. He was only scantily aware that he was in a car at all, and his thoughts were not collected enough for him to wonder where he was being taken.