Harry Potter stared at the Burrow for quite some time. He stood in the very spot where a day ago he had blacked out. The Burrow looked as normal as ever save for the fact that there were no inhabitants inside. He looked around on the spot and even tried to turn quickly to see if there were effects but nothing happened.
Scratching his head, he looked at the Burrow again. He looked around until he was reminded that no one else was there. He shrugged and quite awkwardly collapsed on the ground. He lay there, staring at the passing clouds. The sun was shining high and bright as the winds twirled the few fallen leaves in mini twisters.
The usual grumbling of garden gnomes was absent along with any sort of artificial noise. Occasionally, the wind would gain speed and a rush by Harry's ears to create a sort of wind tunnel but other than the occasional gust of wind there was no noise.
He sat up and gazed at the Burrow, wondering what in Merlin's name that bright light was. He scratched his head and started speaking to himself. He could remember the bright light and how it seemed to swallow the Burrow with its intensity but nothing more. He munched quietly on one of the apples that were in the basket.
"At least there's plenty of food here," he said to himself, "I reckon Ron would be quite happy about that."
Another wave of solitude swept over Harry. If only Ron were here to joke about Harry's predicament. If only Ron were here to lighten the mood and say, "Look on the bright side. No more reports, right?"
If only Ron could keep him company while he searched for his wife. For a moment, he wished that Ron was here so he would at least have someone to share his solace but he quickly pushed away that thought. At least he wouldn't have to deal with being the only person in Britain, he thought bitterly. Harry finished the apple and chucked it away as far as he could as he released some of his pent up frustration again.
But what if they are here? What if the Death Eaters have taken them?
Harry shuddered at the thought of Death Eaters torturing his friends. He was nearly confident that it was not Death Eaters. They were nowhere near powerful enough to usurp the whole Ministry of Magic much less make everything in existence disappear of the face of the Earth.
Still, there was something amiss about this whole situation and Harry could not place his finger on it. He had to find some way to contact anybody.
Concluding that there was no other evidence to collect at the Weasley household, Harry went upstairs to find his trunk. He collected a spare amount of clothes since he doubted that there was anyone to care about his appearance.
Since Harry did not have the ability to shrink any items, he had to pack carefully. After several minutes of consideration he had neatly packed away three sets of clothing, two different robes, his Sneakoscope, his Invisibility Cloak, his Standard Auror Field Kit, and a several photos of his wife and his friends.
He lugged the trunk downstairs making as much as noise as possible in an attempt to drown out the predominant silence in the Burrow. He stared at the horrid clock for a moment.
"Wherever you guys are, I hope you're safe," he muttered.
He hesitated but eventually stuffed the clock in his trunk as well. Walking outside, Harry set his trunk and broom down and took one last look at the Burrow. For some strange reason, Harry felt that after this day he would probably never see the Burrow again.
He closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face. In the distance, he could hear Fred and George bellowing at Ron to throw the gnome farther. He could hear Mrs. Weasley fussing over the state of Ginny's robes and Mr. Weasley tinkering in the garage with Sirius' unused motorcycle. He pictured the whole Weasley family and Hermione in the kitchen table, laughing and exchanging jokes over delicious food and Pumpkin Juice. He imagined Percy coming home, complaining about the injustice of the Wizarding World and how Hermione would heartily agree with him. He could imagine looking at his wife and smiling at her while Bill and Charlie regaled the family in their exploits around the world.
He opened his eyes and saw the Burrow leering at him, taunting him with memories. Harry was having a hard time swallowing as he stared stonily at the only other place he really called home. His feet felt rooted the ground and he could not take his eyes off the lopsided building where he had first met his wife.
Sighing, Harry finally turned around and mounted his broom and chained his trunk to the back of it. It was a little heavier than usual but he doubted that there would be any need for evasive maneuvers in the air but just in case, he had planted a locator beacon on the trunk.
He gently floated in the air and took one look back at the lopsided house and could have sworn that he saw Hermione's face in the kitchen window but he knew better than to check for sure. He let the wind swallow him into their air as he set off for his destination; Hogwarts.
****
Harry had fallen asleep during the long trip to Hogwarts. It was only now that he could fully appreciate the comfort of the compartments in the Hogwarts Express. He followed the train tracks as long as he could, unwilling to sleep for fear of losing track. During one particularly straightaway stretch, he allowed himself to veer slightly off course to investigate the number of small villages that littered the countryside.
Every now and then he would see a wagon rolling and hoped to see a driver but it was only the wind fooling him. Twice, he stopped to eat whatever was available in the bakery. It was during one of those stops that he saw a large statue of himself.
Since Voldemort's defeat, there had been many statues of Harry that had been erected and he had seen to nearly all of them, but he never spotted this one. The statue was deadly accurate even to the scars that Harry had from the Gringotts heist.
His wand was pointed high in a mock salute and for one silly moment, Harry saluted to himself with a wiry grin. He could hear Ron's voice in his head, if that isn't self-admiration, I don't know what is. He chuckled to himself before setting off.
The sun was setting with the same strange, blood red color. He could not help but stare as the sun descended over the horizon and the moon rose in the other. Amazed, Harry watched as several yellow lights blinked in the distance. He rubbed his eyes but concluded that it was not Hogwarts. The lights were turning on in their own accord.
A glimmer of hope passed through Harry before he realized that they had done the same the night before on his way and into London. Nonetheless, Harry softly pushed the handle of his broom down and landed softly in the cobble streets of an unnamed village.
Nearly all the lights in the stores were on and the streetlamps casted shadows behind him as he walked through the town. It was very similar to Godric's Hollow. He remembered how Hermione had led him through the village in a rare moment of normalcy during their hunt for Voldemort.
Harry smiled as he reminisced over that rare moment before he heard a loud crash. Instinctively, he pressed himself against the closest wall out of the bright light of the streetlamp. He had left his trunk where he had landed.
Foolish.
He shook his head and trained his ears for any sort of noise but it was silent once again. He crouched and squinted through his glasses in an attempt to see if there was any movement. His heart beat not only with fear but with a glimmer of hope. It had been a long time since he heard any sort of artificial noise.
Slowly, he crept towards the store where he had thought the noise originated. It seemed to be some sort of postal store and the lights were turned off inside. After safely making sure that nothing was moving inside, he ran quickly back to his trunk and fetched his Invisibility Cloak and checked his Sneakoscope. It was dormant between the folds of his robes.
He approached the postal store again and opened the door as quietly as he could. In his eagerness to go inside, he did not see the chimes attached to the top of the door and jumped when they clashed together. Surely, whoever was inside would now be alerted to his presence.
He pressed himself as tightly as he could into a corner and waited for the inevitable investigation of the chimes. Holding his breath, Harry felt his hear hammering against his chest and absentmindedly pressed his hand against it in an effort to still his beating heart.
Move.
Crouched in the ground in a sort of semi-shuffle, Harry looked around the two floors of the postal store before concluding that no one was there. Sighing, he apprehensively took off his Invisibility Cloak and for a fleeting moment, hoped that some sort of jinx would fly past him but none came.
He approached the source of the disruption and found an ancient-looking photo album spread face down on the floor. Harry crouched over the item in question and poked it with his foot. He flipped it over but found that all of the pages were inexplicably blank.
Befuddled, Harry picked up the photo album and examined it at several different angles but found nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps, it was on the verge of falling and Harry's arrival triggered its fall, he wondered.
Coincidental.
Harry shook his head again before picking up the leather bound photo album and investigating the store one last time. Finding nothing strange in his second scan, Harry exited the postal store with the photo album under his armpit and checked one of the nearby clocks. It was nearly midnight and Harry would have to fly fast to arrive at Hogwarts.
Shoving the photo album into his trunk, Harry pushed off and flattened himself on the broom, urging it to go faster. The trunk whipped around behind him, flailing like an awkward bird in its first flight. He was surprised to find Hogwarts peeking over the horizon in short time and with renewed energy, he burst off in direction of his new home.
During his approach, Harry noticed with a pit in his stomach that the Whomping Willow lay dormant and unmoving. Harry flew by the tree, hoping it would make a swipe at him but it remained still as stone. Throwing caution, literally, to the wind, he approached a branch and poked it with his foot. The Willow did not respond as he thought it would and Harry hung his head with disappointment.
"I would think that Hogwarts of all places would remain immune to this anti-magic jinx," he muttered to his Firebolt.
Landing neatly and his trunk in tow, Harry was surprised to find the main doors open and hoped to find at least one familiar face, even if it was Filch, within the walls of Hogwarts. He turned right into the Great Hall and was surprised to find the torches were lit with him as he walked.
Grinning, Harry took hope that there was still some sort of magic within Hogwarts. He turned around and leapt up the stairs, two at a time and looked up, hoping to see the staircases changing directions. He gave a shout as one of the staircases groaned and allowed Harry to run to the Headmaster's room.
The gargoyle had already stepped aside and Harry ascended the spiraling staircase to the Headmaster's office. He flung open the door, breathing heavily and excited by the small displays of magic. Inside, Harry was crestfallen to see that the portraits were frozen in mid-action. Phineas was actually in midstride on his way, no doubt, to Grimmauld Place and Dumbledore seemed to be talking to another portrait.
Harry approached Dumbledore's portrait and ran his fingers across his beard. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes shined down on Harry even in this desperate moment.
"I've always needed your help Professor. What do I do now?" he whispered.
Dumbledore did not reply, however, as Harry had hoped but stood with a half grin, talking to some invisible friend off in another portrait. Harry sat himself down in the Headmaster's chair and ran his hands through his hair in grief.
He had counted on Hogwarts to produce as always but all he could see were the numerous portraits of Headmasters. Even Dumbledore's fancy machines were no longer whirring as they usually were.
It had only been some years ago when Harry sat opposite the desk in the chair usually reserved for students. Fury swelled within Harry as he wished to take his anger out something. Anything. Just as he had done six years prior, Harry picked up the non-moving instruments littered in the Headmaster's office and smashed it on the ground. He continued with his unneeded assault until he collapsed on the ground.
The office was littered with bits and pieces of the silver instruments and Harry brushed tears away as he fought the sickeningly depressing loneliness that threatened to overtake him. Exhausted once again, Harry did not bother did not bother to rise from his slumped position as another fitful and uneasy sleep overtook him.
***
The sun shined against Harry's spectacles the following morning. Disoriented by his unfamiliarity with his surroundings, Harry raised his arm to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He looked around and a rush of memories tore into Harry. He stared at the bits and pieces of the instruments which he had attempted to break. His stomach growled impatiently with hunger as he had not had a bite to eat since late afternoon of the previous day.
Grumbling, Harry walked to the portrait and tickled the pear to find himself with an inordinately large amount of food for one person. Harry gobbled the food in a matter of minutes. The days seemed to stretch into long periods of travelling interrupted by the occasional bite and the eventual feeling of disappointment.
As he ate, he bounced a question around in his mind.
What about the creatures?
Surely not even the Death Eaters could remove all of the magical creatures in the world. House Elves had some of the most powerful and mysterious magic in the world yet none were serving him Pumpkin Juice for breakfast. Harry could not fathom what sort of mysterious magic had been cast over the land.
For a brief moment, Harry pondered the possibility of Voldemort interfering from the grave but waved it off. Harry pondered what to do next as he bit into a loaf of bread. He needed to figure out why everyone had disappeared and where they were. Surely this was not an elaborate prank by George.
He drank the last of his goblet and proceeded to unpack his trunk and for a moment, he could not decide where to sleep. After some thought, he decided to sleep in the 7th year dorms. The magical staircases swung according to the direction Harry wanted as he stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Shrugging, he simply opened the portrait and entered. It was the same as he remembered. Although there was neither a fire nor people, the plush cushions were comforting as Harry lay down on the couch and stared at the high ceiling.
As he stared at the ceiling, he was struck by the improbability of the situation. There he was, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, apparently the only person in Britain. He started laughing and after several moments it erupted into a full brown bellow. His laughs echoed and bounced off the stone walls but it contained neither amusement nor optimism. It felt hollow.
Tears leaked from his eyes as he continued laughing maniacally but eventually it dissolved into sobs as Harry wailed his injustices into the now drenched cushions of the couch. Sobs racked his body as he fought to contain the little composure he had left.
"Oh, what the hell. No one's here to see me anyways," he grumbled into the cushion.
Get up.
Harry wiped tears off his face, ashamed at his childish behavior. He was twenty one for Merlin's sake; he was not supposed to be sobbing his heart into the cushions of a couch.
He approached the windowsill and opted for brooding quietly while watching the landscape. His eyes were unfocused as he pondered the many questions roaming his mind. There was a dulling pain in the back of his head from the sheer amount of information he attempted to process.
At last, Harry resolved to use the resources in the Hogwarts library in order to glean the necessary information regarding the disappearance of every living being. Perhaps he was under some sort of a spell and he would have to be awakened by drastic measures. Harry would investigate that possibility at another time.
As he hopped off the windowsill, he spared one more glance at the Forbidden Forest.
"Not so Forbidden now, are you?" Harry said aloud.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of purple. His head snapped to the locale where he had seen the flash and he stared, holding his breath for several moments, hoping yet at the same time not hoping he had seen what he thought he saw.
For a moment, Harry swore he saw the velvet purple robe littered with stars and Dumbledore's haunted blue eyes peeping out from underneath his hood.