The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

3. Flight of the Potters

"Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid" - Camisado, Panic! At the Disco

Harry and I run back upstairs to our bedroom, arriving at the window just in time to see the Dursleys' car swinging out of the drive and off up the road. Dedalus's top hat is visible between Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the backseat. The car turns right at the end of Privet Drive, it's windows burned scarlet for a moment in the now setting sun, and then it is gone. 

"Just you and me now," Harry says into the silence. "It's really starting. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

We collect Hedwig's cage, our Firebolts, and our rucksacks, give our unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look and then make our way back downstairs to the hall, where we deposit the cage, broomsticks, and bags at the foot of the stairs. The light is fading rapidly now, the hall full of shadows in the evening light. It feels most strange to stand here in the silence and know that we're about to leave the house for the last time. Once upon a time, when we were left alone while the Dursleys went out to enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude were a rare treat: Pausing only to sneak something tasty from the fridge, we would rush upstairs to play something on Dudley's computer, or put on the television and flick through the channels to our hearts content. It gives me an odd, empty feeling to remember those times, like remembering little siblings whom I've lost. 

"Don't you want to take one last look at the place?" I ask of both Harry and Hedwig, the latter of which is still sulking, her head hidden under her wing. "We'll never be here again. Don't you want to remember all the good times? I mean, look at that doorman. What memories...Dudley puked on it after Harry saved him from the dementors...Turns out he's been grateful all this time, can you believe it?"

Harry laughs, clutching his heart dramatically. "Knowing that Dudley doesn't think we're a waste of space gave me the strength to go on."

"And last summer," I continue, giggling, "Dumbledore walked through that front door..."

I lose the thread of my thoughts for a moment, and my heart begins to ache once more. I turn my back on the front door, and Harry, thankfully, is quick to change the subject. 

"And under here, Hedwig" - Harry pulls open the door under the stairs -- "is where we used to sleep! You never knew us then -- Blimey, Haylee, it's so small, I'd forgotten..."

I stick my head into the cupboard, feeling a rush of nostalgia. I look around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas, remembering how we used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with spiders. Those were the days before we knew anything about our true identities; before we found out how our parents died, or why such strange things happened around us. Before we knew what a real family was like. But I can still remember the dreams that dogged me, even in those days; confused dreams involving flashes of green light and once -- Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry and I recounted it -- a flying motorbike...

There is a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Harry straightens up instantly and smacks his the top of his head on the low door frame. Pausing only to employ a few choice swear words and laughter on my part, we stagger back into the kitchen and stare out of the window into the back garden. 

The darkness seems to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures begin to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lift. Dominating the scene is Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people are dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black-winged horses.