Of Horses And Waterfalls

2. Walking Away

The story of Harry Potter was a sad one.  Not in the sense of being sad and then getting over it, but more like a sadness that would follow him for the rest of his life.  And the most disturbing part about all of it, was that he had never asked for any of it.  It had been dumped in his lap, without so much as even knowing why it had, or when it was going to come to an end.  

The weird thing about him was that he embraced it.  Everything about his life had to have some hidden meaning, and he often wondered what that was.  He had made a decision one day to walk away and find out.  And he knew the journey was going to be an extremely long and tedious one, but he was ready.

Harry was an orphan.  He had never known his parents, having been left on a doorstep so many years ago.  The thing that bothered him the most was the person who had seen fit to leave him there, with just a letter addressed to the Matriarch of the foster family.  When he had been old enough, the people who had taken him in had told him that his parents were good for nothing idiots, and that they had died in a car crash.  Harry never had a response to this.

Growing up with the Dursley family had been horrendous.  The abuse that he had been subjected to was without a doubt disgusting, and although it may seem hard to accept, had made him the kind and soft man that he is today.  There was no way that he would ever become another version of them.  It was time to stop the cycle.

Spending most of his time in a library, going through old news reels and newspapers, trying to find some sort of closure on the death of his parents, he was almost never at home anymore.  Which made him happy, but it also made the Dursleys very angry.  

They would often shout at him when he returned, and ask what was he doing with his time, didn't he know that he had dinner to prepare, a room to paint, and a fence to mend.  Idiot boy!  And Harry still embraced everything.  He used to cower in fear when they raised their voices, and while they loved the placid and submitting side of him, Harry actually never lay down and took the abuse.

He got his own back when it was due.  Insults were thrown back, doors were slammed, but neither party would relent.  

The abuse had many forms.  Sometimes it was physical, where he would be beaten if his chores weren't done on time, or when their son Dudley and his friends, just decided to have some fun.  

Then there was the neglect.  Human touch is so important for a child's growth, but it was something that Harry had never received.  A hug when he was heartbroken or had a scuffed knee would have been so welcome.  The only touch that he could remember was a back hand, either on his face or back, coming from the obese man of the house, or being used as a punching bag by their son.

Then there was the starvation.  He would be rewarded with food - only IF - they deemed it fit for him to eat.  And when they did, he was not allowed to sit at the same table.  He had to stand in the kitchen at the counter after they had finished their meal.  And this only happened if there was any food left.

What made it worse was that Harry prepared and cooked every single meal in that house, and lo and behold if he burnt it or screwed it up.

Then there was the mental abuse.  Pulling him around and calling him names while he was working, telling him he was a worthless piece of shit.  A freak and a nobody.  And of course, at such a young age, there were times when he believed them.  There were times that he would cry because why did he keep making them angry.  Was he really not good enough?

Harry had been raised in a cupboard.  For the first eleven years of his life, it was all he had known.  Until a man by the name of Sirius Black had entered the picture and threatened them with child care services and death.  Harry had since been moved to Dudley's second bedroom, and he seemed to grow from there.  

The rules in the Dursley household were only applicable to Harry, and sometimes he followed them, and sometimes he rebelled.  

At school he had friends, and tried really hard to stay away from Dudley and his gang.  Sometimes it was doable, other times not so much.  So, Harry made a decision to start turning his destiny around.  He enrolled at a gymnasium, and spent all his spare time there, not giving a damn if he would be late going home, or if there was a beating.  It was time to give them a taste of their own medicine.

He was turning eighteen in a month and then he would be legally dependent.  He wouldn't need their 'roof over his head' anymore, because God knows they kept shoving that down his throat.  He had built up a nice bit of muscle, becoming toned and had abs and biceps that Dudley would often admire when no one was looking.  He had grown taller than the stupid Dursley boy as well, which made Harry laugh when the idiot had to look up to him. 

Birthdays were never a part of Harry's life, having been told that he didn't deserve them.  When he had been younger, he had often looked with longing eyes at the pile of presents that Dudley received on his special day, but he himself had never been gifted with anything.  There was the one time that they had given him a tissue and then a toothpick, which when Harry had received, he had thrown them away in the bin.

Not one to dawdle on things past, he made his plans, went to the library, exercised at the gym, and kept a journal of what he wanted to achieve and how he was going to do it, also often documenting his day.  The time to walk away was growing nearer, and there were days that he couldn't contain his excitement at the prospect of starting over.  The fact that it was going to be done alone, made him feel apprehensive, but that would fade away with thoughts of happiness, that no Dursley would ever make him feel inadequate ever again.

The morning that he turned 18 - 31 July - had him waking up early.  He had packed all his possessions in a back pack, didn't even bother to make his bed, walked down the stairs with a new spring in his step and left No 4 Privet Drive without looking back.

When the Dursleys woke up later that day, there was a note on their dining room table.  It was from Harry.  They had grown angry at the word, and suddenly found themselves wondering what they were going to do, now that the object of their frustrations had left.

The note had simply said, 'Goodbye'.