A Stolen Past

The Burrow

The Burrow (that's what we call our house) is outside Ottery St. Catchpole, on the River Otter. It's a little way south of the town and it's hidden by hills and trees, but if you're flying you should be able to see the lights from the air. It's the only house for miles, so you shouldn't have much trouble spotting it.

(After this paragraph, Ron had drawn a very crude map of England, with the River Otter, Ottery St. Catchpole, and the Burrow labeled.)

Before I give this to Hedwig, I have to tell you what happened when she showed up with your letter. Somehow, she managed to get inside the castle and fly right into Transfiguration class. Well, McGonagall was furious when an owl interrupted her lesson to give me a letter, and she ripped it away before I even had a chance to open it. I think she was going to read it out loud to the class to try and embarrass me, but when she saw what it said she just got really pale and gave it back. Then she told me to leave and "take care of this right away." So now I get out of Transfiguration and I didn't even have to pretend to be sick. Thanks!

I know you're in a hurry, so I'm going to send this off now. I hope everything's still okay.

Take care of yourself,

Ron

Examining the map closely, Harry decided that he would need to fly south-southwest for some time before turning and heading almost directly west. After pocketing the letter and hoisting his bag onto his shoulders, he mounted his stolen broomstick and soared into the air with Hedwig at his side. Once he had reached what he deemed to be a safe height, he took the rat-wizard's wand from his back pocket and laid it across his open palm.

"Point me," he whispered. The wand spun around to point north. Making a mental note of the direction in which he would have to fly, Harry pocketed the wand and brought the broomstick around in a wide arc until he was facing more or less in the right direction. Then he shot forward as fast as the broom would carry him.

As the night wore on, Harry kept himself pressed flat against the handle of his broom. It was freezing cold at this altitude, and the jacket he was wearing didn't seem to help; the wind just whipped right through it, stinging his flesh as it sapped the heat from his body. After several hours of flying, he reached the coastline and turned to follow it westward toward the River Otter. His hands and face were completely numb. The broomstick was traveling extremely fast, but it didn't seem fast enough. He thought longingly of the fires he had conjured on the stone floor of his private cell at St. Brutus's and the fleeting warmth they had provided. Then he thought of Hassseth, and his rage over her death warmed him as he felt his blood boil.

Finally, at around four in the morning, he saw the lights of a little village up ahead. He studied the nearby hills and the bend in the river, and felt hope rise up within him. This was the right place; it had to be. Stopping to hover over the town, he took Ron's letter from his pocket and held it up close to his face. It was too dark to read. He pointed at the parchment with his left hand and said, "Lumos," and a beam of light shot from his index finger, illuminating the page. After noting the location of the Burrow relative to the village, he muttered, "Nox," and stuffed the letter back into his pocket.

Using the Four-Point Spell, he quickly determined his new heading and set off once again, this time just slightly west of south. He flew more slowly now, his eyes searching the ground for any sign of an isolated house on the ground below him. There was nothing but darkness. Had Ron's map been wrong? No, that couldn't be it. This was Ron's house; he would know where it was.

Maybe it isn't the right village after all, Harry thought as he circled around and began flying back toward the lights of the small town. He flew until he located an all-night petrol station, and then fell into a steep dive, landing out of sight behind the building. He leaned the broomstick against the metal siding and turned to walk around to the entrance. After only two steps, however, he hesitated. What if somebody found the broomstick while he was inside? If this wasn't the right village - or even if it was - Harry was none too confident in his ability to find the Burrow on foot. On the other hand, he couldn't exactly carry a broomstick that was obviously meant for flying into a place that was sure to be run by Muggles. Finally, crossing his fingers and hoping that nobody but him was crazy enough to be out this late, he strode into the petrol station.