Before Harry could do or say anything, Malfoy Sr. grabbed his arm roughly and Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling of apparation. When the feeling had stopped, he looked around to see they were in some sort of forest. It was quite dark and there were trees everywhere. Harry didn’t have a clue where they were. Malfoy must have been very distracted, because he didn’t grab Harry’s wand. Instead, he put his own into Harry’s back and growled, “Move.” Harry knew that if he was hoping to escape, he would have to do it now. He would have to apparate. He had not quite mastered the skill, but clearly splinching himself would be better than death by Voldemort. He concentrated very hard on #4 and disappeared with a pop. The last thing he heard was Malfoy’s enraged yell.

Harry found himself in the alley where he and Dudley had encountered the dementors two summers previously. He shivered at the memory and raced towards Privet Drive. He had done it! He had escaped Malfoy and apparated without splinching himself! He felt a weird tingling on his face, but ignored it. He pulled his wand out, deciding he had better be prepared in case Malfoy returned. He raced to the Dursley’s house, only to find it in flames. My stuff! his mind screamed. My stuff! He watched in horror as the flames licked the house. It was an inferno and he knew he had no chance of retrieving his things. With one last look, Harry turned and ran towards the only place he knew to find help: Mrs. Figg’s house.

Mrs. Figg might be a squib but she would be able to contact Dumble… Ah bugger it. Well, she could contact someone who could come and help him. He jogged down the streets, his lungs burning, but didn’t dare stop for a rest. He soon found himself on Mrs. Figg’s front porch, pounding on the front door. He rang the doorbell several times. No one answered. “Of all the times for her to be gone,” he muttered angrily. He tested the door, hoping against hope it would open. It did and Harry cautiously stepped inside.

“Mrs. Figg! Mrs. Figg, are you home?” he shouted. He did not want to be on the wrong side of a broom or some other defensive tool if Mrs. Figg thought he was breaking and entering. When he saw nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he shook himself. I can’t stay here! What am I supposed to do? Will Snape know where to look? Just then a pop sounded behind him. Harry whirled around, wand pointing at the intruder. Harry almost sagged in relief. It was Snape.

“Potter, can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes? Honestly, I turn my back on you…” He let the words trail off, but Harry could hear the exasperation and… worry?

“Were you worried about me, sir?” Harry asked cheekily.

Snape looked startled at the question. “What? No! Of course not!”

Harry smiled at him briefly before walking over to stand next to Snape.

“Ready to go?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Potter and when we get there, I want you to tell me how you blew your relation’s house up.”

Snape grabbed Harry's arm and the two promptly disappeared.