III. Magical Connection

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Unconsciousness claimed him as soon as he lay on the floor, his body sagging in a secluded corner of the library. He had no energy left to do anything, and his mind felt sluggish as if moving through molasses.

Sleeping on the floor proved even more comfortable than in his cupboard, where the air was stale and smelled like mould.

The benefits of being homeless, he realised with a dry chuckle.

🙞 29 August 1989 | Little Whinging, Surrey 🙜

The next day, he woke up early, just as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Having an efficient biological clock, a silver lining to living with the Dursleys, he did not fear waking up in the middle of the day - when the school would be open.

The rest proved to be much needed, as he no longer felt any headaches or body weakness. The sun felt welcoming on his gaunt face, and with it came the energy to stand up.

'School shouldn't open for an hour still...' he thought, staring at the library's old clock, 'I should get some food before leaving, though. Then maybe find Omen...'

If he were to be honest, he felt lost on what to do. Not for lack of options, but rather too many of them.

'I need better clothes for winter, canned food, somewhere to stay that no one will look... also to learn more about magic. Maybe even try to find other people like me.'

The more he thought about it, the more his list increased. Not willing to let that get his spirits down, he decided to make a list of priorities instead. In the first place, naturally, came finding canned food. He couldn't go on much longer without anything on his stomach, even more so after throwing up what little he had left.

Thankfully, Harry already had that covered by sneaking into the school's kitchen. He unlocked the door with even more ease than he had the other day, and nothing but a minor - fleeting - headache hit him before it was gone.

Stealing brought him little guilt. He felt no obligation to feel guilty when the community he pilfered from hated his very existence. Harry wasn't so sure he would feel the same when thieving from strangers, though.

Next on his list of priorities came finding a secluded place for shelter. A place that no one would bother searching. After all, the last thing he wanted was to get caught by authorities and be immediately delivered back to his 'family'. He doubted anyone would be willing to investigate any claims of abuse he might have.

To say that he was, rightfully so, disillusioned with adult figures would be an understatement - his experience in Little Whinging did make for a damning outlook. And, as much as he believed he could get away from anyone by 'popping' somewhere else, he preferred not risking it.

'An abandoned building? Maybe, though authorities regularly check on them according to what Vernon always said watching the news.'

'The police got 'em, serves them right, the lazy sods,' his uncle would say whenever squatters were apprehended. While Harry didn't believe he would be required to pay any fines or serve a sentence in prison, he knew the first part to be true.

He would be apprehended. Then, off he went, handed off to his guardians, which could be worse than legal imprisonment.

Thinking a bit more about abandoned buildings he could use, he almost smacked himself for not realising it sooner.

'How could I forget?' He thought back to a book about the history of London, 'There are a lot of abandoned churches in Central London.'

'After the German Blitz, and even further back, after the Great London Fire, a great number of churches were left to ruin. I suppose there weren't good enough reasons to justify restoring them,' he thought.

Soon enough, he had the mentioned book 'borrowed' and safeguarded inside his rucksack. Then, guide of 'free' houses secured, he was on his merry way to the woods Omen frequently lounged around.

'I hope he comes around, because I'm not waiting a second longer to leave Surrey.'

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Omen stood perched on his left arm, his black, unblinking eyes staring back at Harry, as curious as ever. Yes, 'him'. Harry felt silly for not having discovered it sooner.

"I'm going to Central London, and I'm probably not coming back," he told the raven, "Do you want to come along?"

The bird did not answer, merely staring as always. Sometimes, the one-way talk made Harry wonder if he was crazy in the head. Of course, he never let that discourage him.

"I will take that as a yes," he sighed, and the bird stared, "Alright, this might feel a wee strange."

Focusing, he called forth the prickling feeling to his skin, feeling it drift off into the air. He hoped this test trial worked, or he would have to travel to Central London on foot. Public transportation was out of bounds for him - he had neither the money nor the accompanying guardians necessary for it.

'I need to bring Omen along,' he told his magic.

It remained unresponsive, however.

'Of course, it takes more than just asking it nicely,' he thought with a grimace as the feeling dissipated. A sudden wish to give up reared its ugly head, but Harry ignored it.

'Again,' he exhaled slowly, then inhaled just as fast.

This time, he tried wrapping the thing that crawled from underneath his skin around Omen. Immediately, it proved to be more difficult than he'd expected - something was deterring him from reaching Omen. A barrier of sorts.

He tried again, more forceful this time. Yet the barrier stood taut, bouncing his energy back.

'What the- come on!' It was a brief lapse of anger, but it was enough. His magic snapped back, barreling forth as a wave, and, like tinfoil, the barrier came undone.

Omen croaked in distress, unlike any sound Harry had ever heard. Instantly, he opened his eyes in worry, fearing he might've hurt Omen in his lack of judgement.

Thankfully, Omen looked just as he did moments ago, completely unharmed.

A sigh of relief left Harry, and he couldn't help but-

A wave of emotion welled from his magic, somehow coming from the outside. Branches swaying in the spring, a nest warmed by the sun, and the smell of food - they all blurred together. They were memories.

'An emotion,' He realised.

It was an emotion of peacefulness.

'What? Was that... you?' Harry asked, awestruck.

Immediately, an idea lit inside his head.

"Say, do you want to come along? I'm leaving Surrey," he asked again, waiting on his toes for an answer.

The same images came forth, however. Omen gave the same signal as before.

'That doesn't answer my question,' the bird proved to be responsible, at the very least, but that did not mean that Omen understood what was being said.

'How can I make you understand me... wait!' If the bird could convey a message through memories, why could he not do the same?

He instantly remembered the feeling of leaving Privet Drive, of getting away from the Dursleys. Then came the memory of finally not being alone - of having company as he approached the lone tree in the playground.

'Leave? Together?' He tried to convey as he focused on the memories.

It welled forward, leaving through his magic to a link with Omen, which only now he noticed to be there.

Seconds later, a memory of Omen leaving the nest was his response. He could feel the sun on his wings and the wind on his pelt as he left his home for good. It was a memory of Omen changing homes as the seasons passed.

"I will take that as a yes," Harry couldn't help but smile.

He wrapped his magic around Omen again, and this time it faced no impediments. Omen's body seemed even to welcome it, basking in its energy.

He closed his eyes, picturing the woods of Hyde Park. He had never gone there personally, but he hoped that just a book picture and location on the map would suffice.

As the largest park in Central London, Hyde Park was the perfect place to 'pop' in. It also had many trails hidden by the shrubbery, which was much better than Green Park, in his opinion, which had little - if any - obstructions to prying eyes with its wide-open fields.

He hoped no one would notice his sudden appearance.

"Here goes nothing," he said to no one, trying to lessen the creeping anxiety.

Picture clear in his head, magic wrapped him and Omen, and he let go. Immediately, everything shot into the distance, and his insides were squeezed even tighter inside a tiny tube. Inky darkness swallowed the sun, all frozen standstill, and then he blinked.

🙞 29 August 1989 | Central London, London 🙜

Woods stretched out around him, and the song of birds in the trees and chirping embraced him. Looking down, he came eye to eye with the unblinking Omen.

"It worked!" He screamed, not even realising his scream had just spooked an older man who jogged ahead on the trail.

Then, a migraine hit him, but it wasn't as knee-bending as the first time. He supposed that with the county of Little Whinging being on the very border between Surrey and Central London, it wasn't as energetically taxing as he'd expected it to be.

Even so, Harry wouldn't bet his luck on distances greater than 10 kilometres. He quite liked having his head intact.

"Off to explore abandoned churches we go."