Aunt Marge struggled uselessly in her chair like a startled hippopotamus, slapping at her thick neck to no effect, able to produce only a chilling "ho-ho" sound from her throat.
Her face shifted from a ruddy brown to a sickly purplish hue. Her small eyes widened in terror, fixing on Harry as though he were the culprit.
Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in complete disarray.
"Marge! Take deep breaths! Quickly!" Vernon patted her back in panic, which only provoked louder "ho-ho" sounds and even more violent struggling, nearly tipping the chair over.
"Water! Get water, quickly!"
Aunt Petunia shrieked as she rushed into the kitchen, fumbling frantically.
Dudley was utterly dumbstruck. His fork clattered sharply onto his plate as he stared at the chaos, then at Harry, clearly unable to understand why his cousin's lips were twitching so strangely.
"It was you!" Vernon suddenly rounded on Harry, his purplish-red face twisted with fury, small eyes blazing with venom. "You did this! You evil little bastard! You used your tricks! Now, immediately, undo it, or I swear—"
"Or what?"
Harry looked up at once, his voice as cold as stone in a cellar. The suppressed amusement from before vanished completely, replaced by ten years of bottled rage and an unfamiliar, iron-hard resolve.
"You'll beat my guts out, like you just threatened?" He took a step forward, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "To tell you the truth, I didn't do it, but I sincerely wish I had."
He deliberately glanced at the solid black figure atop the chandelier. Noctis tilted its head, obsidian eyes gleaming with an inhuman sheen in the dim light.
Vernon followed his line of sight but saw nothing except the chandelier. Blinded by rage and Marge's pitiful condition, he bellowed, "Don't try to fool me with your tricks! I know it was you! Now. Make her speak, or you won't spend another second in this house!"
"Do you think I'm eager to stay in this shit hole?"
Harry's voice rose sharply. Years of suppressed humiliation and fury finally erupted. "Listen, Dursley. I didn't do it. And even if I had…"
He paused on purpose, taking a twisted satisfaction in Vernon and Petunia's horrified expressions. "She deserved it. Every filthy word that came out of her stinking mouth deserved that kind of treatment."
"Listen here, you freak! Give her voice back!" Vernon roared.
"And listen here, you fat fuck! I can't!" Harry pointed at Aunt Marge, who was still thrashing helplessly, tears and mucus streaming down her face in terror.
"And her voice now is much nicer than before. This is probably the most pleasant sound I've ever heard at Number Four, Privet Drive."
"You… you…" Vernon's entire bulk trembled with rage. His finger shook as he pointed at Harry, but he couldn't form a complete sentence. He had never seen Harry like this, so defiant, so dangerous.
"Get out, you ungrateful little bastard!"
"Get out? Pfft~ Fine!" Harry sneered, his gaze sweeping over Petunia's deathly pale face and Dudley's terrified expression. "But this isn't ingratitude. You locked me in a cupboard and treated me like a slave for more than ten years. Do you really expect gratitude? Dream on. I would rather sleep in a gutter in Diagon Alley than spend another second in this stinking house."
After finishing his words, Harry didn't spare them another glance. He turned and strode toward the stairs.
Burning anger and a strange exhilaration surged through his chest.
"You… you dare leave! If you go, don't even think about coming back!" Vernon roared after him, his voice blustering but devoid of real strength.
"Gladly!" Harry shouted back without looking, his voice echoing through the narrow hallway.
He took the stairs two at a time, charging into his bedroom, which was piled high with Dudley's broken toys, his movements swift and decisive.
He grabbed Hedwig's empty cage from the bedside table and yanked open the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. Inside were nearly all his possessions: his Hogwarts textbooks, his wand, the pouch holding his Invisibility Cloak, a few old clothes that barely fit, and the Chocolate Frog cards his classmates had given him at the end of last term.
He stuffed everything roughly into his trunk, his wand clenched tightly in his hand. Its cool surface brought him an unexpected sense of calm.
From downstairs came Aunt Marge's increasingly desperate, shrill "ho-ho" sounds, Petunia's hysterical sobbing, Vernon's incoherent swearing, and Dudley's confused muttering, all blending into a cacophonous mess.
With the trunk slung over his shoulder and Hedwig's cage in hand, Harry turned and headed back downstairs without hesitation.
His footsteps never faltered as he passed the doorway of the chaotic dining room.
Aunt Marge lay slumped in her chair like a formless heap, while Vernon fumbled uselessly to pour water down her throat, most of it spilling over her chin.
Aunt Petunia let out a sharp scream when she saw Harry coming down with his trunk.
"Get out! Get out, you devil!" Vernon shrieked, but the fear in his eyes was impossible to hide. He didn't dare step forward to stop Harry, only flailing his fists in a blustering show of rage.
Harry didn't spare them a single glance. He walked straight to the front door.
As his hand closed around the doorknob, he caught sight of a black shadow gliding gracefully past the dining-room doorway. It landed silently on his shoulder.
It was Noctis.
The raven folded its dark wings and perched steadily, its cold black eyes calmly surveying the chaotic Dursley family behind them like a detached observer.
It even tilted its head slightly and let out a very soft, very short, unmistakably mocking caw toward Aunt Marge, who was still thrashing helplessly in the dining room.
Harry did not look back.
He pulled the door open, and cool summer night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of freedom.
He stepped over the threshold of Number 4, Privet Drive, leaving behind the cage that had imprisoned him for thirteen years.
Bang!
He slammed the door shut with all his strength, the sound echoing sharply, as if sealing away every memory of humiliation and oppression.
The heavy impact rattled the doorframe and completely cut off the nauseating chaos and screams inside.
Night enveloped Privet Drive, and the streetlights cast a dim yellow glow across the quiet road.
Harry Potter stood on the pavement and took a deep breath, feeling an unprecedented lightness, along with an uncertain future stretching out before him.
The raven on his shoulder gave two soft chirps, carrying a faint trace of schadenfreude.
What came next?
He didn't know.
But whatever it was, it had to be better than turning back.
The summer night breeze held a chill as it brushed against Harry's still-flushed face, yet it did nothing to settle the roiling emotions in his chest.
He stood beneath the dim yellow streetlight on Privet Drive. Behind him was the Dursleys' front door, a symbol of every humiliation he had endured. Ahead lay the road, disappearing into the unknown darkness.
Free? Yes. But then what?
Hogwarts would not reopen for nearly another month.
Diagon Alley? His parents' Galleons lay in Gringotts, but he had never been there on his own.
The Burrow? The Weasleys would certainly welcome him, but they were still away in Egypt.
He did not even have an owl. Hedwig had been sent off, and the few Muggle coins in his pocket were nowhere near enough for a train ticket to London.
"Mr. Noctis," Harry asked softly, his voice unusually steady in the quiet street, "where do we go now?"
The raven made no sound, only staring into the endless darkness ahead with unfathomable eyes, as though the answer lay hidden there.
Or rather, as if something were waiting.
Just then, beyond the reach of the streetlight, the dense shadows rippled like disturbed water.
A slender figure emerged without warning.
Calm grey eyes fixed themselves on Harry—and on the raven perched upon his shoulder.
Noctis let out a faint, almost whimpering call and shot into the air like a black streak, swiftly and deferentially landing on the man's raised arm.
"Clever, Noctis."
The man's voice was even and unruffled, yet upon hearing it, an inexplicable sense of relief washed over Harry.
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