It was a starry night. Billions of twinkling specks dotted the night sky as the four soared into the air. The wind stung against their skin and left cold blisterous marks. The bitter cold hacked at them and reminded Harry of those lonely, freezing nights in the Dursley's home. He glanced over at Hermione. She was braced against the wind and her cheeks were flushed from the icy chills. Ron and Su, too, were both trying to ignore the force of the wind as they flew higher into blackness.
They had acted on impulse that could lead to great danger, but none were thinking of anything but to rescue Dumbledore. Harry remembered the many times Dumbledore had come to his rescue and the familiar smile and crinkled eyes behind those half-moon spectacles. The time he had been in the hospital wing after his encounter with the Sorcerer's Stone...Dumbledore had been there to comfort him...the time Mad-Eye Moody had almost killed Harry, Dumbledore had recued him. Hermione was right. There was no choice but to help Professor Dumbledore. It was not only an obligation, but he was Harry's family.
Harry tried to divert his attention by thinking of his happiest moment. It was difficult. There were so many good times he had experienced in Hogwarts. There were the feasts on Halloween and Christmas, the adventures he had had with Ron and Hermione, the jokes they had traded. The hundreds of times they had been scared out of their wits when they met Mrs. Norris in the hallway, the places they had explored under the Invisibility Cloak, making Malfoy's life miserable. The cups he had won from Quidditch, getting his first broom, down to the many cozy hours spent in the library researching, whether it be for Flamel, a way to breathe underwater, or even on the treatment of house elves. He had had so many fun times, but Harry also couldn't help but notice that all of these memorable and happy moments had occured in Hogwarts. There wasn't a single joyous memory he could grasp from the Dursley's. Hogwarts was his home...and he had just left it no knowing whether he would ever return again.
Reminising upon past events was not going to comfort Harry any. Taking back out the Marauder's Map, he glanced at it. Scotland...it was quite a distance away. It would take more than three days to fly there from London. He turned slightly to look at Hermione again, and was not surprised to discover she had "magicked" a compass and was twiddling with the needle to find north. Silently, she raised a shaking finger toward the right. The four brave souls swerved to the right and continued on their journey.
That lasted for four straight hours. For four hours, they flew endlessly with no gestures but Hermione's occasional check on direction, for four hours, they did not stop for breaks, for four hours, no one spoke. They all seemed to have realized unconsiously that this trip was more than just to retrieve Dumbledore. There was something meaningful about this trip that bound them to it. Harry could sense it. He had a foreboding and shivery feeling that this trip would lead him to reveal the truth behind what happened that fateful night fourteen years ago at Godric's Hollow.