You're (not) gonna miss me when I'm gone.

It wasn't much of a choice, to be honest.

Right here and now, Harry had an excuse to get out of the Dursleys far ahead of schedule. A self made excuse, for sure. One that would probably buy him freedom for only a number of hours and get him in a load of trouble afterwards. But it got him out.

And she was gonna take it.

Mind made up and determined not to waste a minute more, Harry packed up her trunk in record time. Two minutes later only her wand and Invisibility Cloak were left out and on the bed. Harry, thinking it a good idea to be as stealthy as possible, had dressed in a black sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and black wizard boots.

The boots obviously being her own, the others Dudley hand-me-downs. The sweatshirt wasn't too much of a problem, it looking more like an ugly dress on her smaller frame then anything. The pants were another issue however, Harry having to draw the waistband all the way up to her ribs and rolling up the pant legs before they were not longer threatening to trip her.

The failed/not failed polyjuice potion, now safely in a corked bottle, went in the left pocket and her wand went in the right.

"Alright then." Harry commented lightly as she donned the cloak and grasped the trunk handles. "Just need to get you down the stairs and out the front and we'll be home free."

And with a mighty heave... the trunk barely moved.

"The Hell!?" Harry mentally cursed. Bending at the knees and sucking in a breath, she managed to lift the large trunk an inch or two before it decided to reintroduced itself to the floor with a solid 'Thunk.'

Harry froze, listening for the telltale sounds of Petunia rushing down the hall to barge into his room and give him an earful for waking her up in the middle of the night. But all she heard was a brief moment of silence before one of Dudley's snores resonated through the wall.

Letting out a relieved breath, a slightly abashed Harry stood and drew out her wand. While she'd barely been able to carry the thing as a guy, to find out first hand that Hermione hadn't actually been being lazy all those times she asked for help moving her own trunk made Harry feel guilty about how Ron and him had teased their friend about it.

Nothing a good Feather-light charm wouldn't fix though, along with an apology to her female friend later.

But it was with wand raised that Harry froze. Years before, Dobby had gotten him in trouble for using a Hover charm in the kitchen. Using the feather-light in his bedroom was bound to have the same effect. Right? Was the trace tied to him or to Number 4? If to him, was it still tied to her? Was someone under polyjuice no longer magically detectable as themselves?

Harry roughly shoved her wand back into her pocket. Whichever way she looked at it, the risk wasn't worth it. He already had one strike with the Ministry. She didn't want to find out what two would get her, let alone three if experimental potion making in a muggle residence counted.

She paced, trying to think with Hermione like speed.

Leaving it here was out of the question. Vernon would probably throw the entire thing in a bin lorry himself first thing in the morning if he thought Harry had run away. And while many of its contents were easily replaceable, there were too many that weren't for her to carry out on her own.

Stepping past the window, she paused. Took a step back. Looked out the window. Looked at her trunk.

....

....

If any of the residence of Privet Drive had just so happened to have been taking a midnight stroll down the street, they may have heard the muted but no less determined grunting and cursing of a young woman lifting something too heavy for her out her window. If that person was lucky enough to be passing by Number Four, they'd be able to see in the light of the full moon which window that woman was lifting that too heavy thing out of.

By that point, they may wonder why half a trunk was lifting itself out the window and why no foul mouthed lady was present.

That person, who would almost certainly be a muggle, would thus be very surprised when that half of a trunk fell out of the window yet didn't hit the ground. Instead, the half trunk managed to barely avoid connecting with the perfectly manicured lawn before gradually gaining altitude and disappearing into the night sky.

At this point the muggle would likely have decided they'd had enough fresh air, go back home, and have an especially strong nightcap before tucking themselves into bed.

Luckily for Harry Potter, this person did not exist. So as she leaned flat on her Firebolt in an effort to have her invisibility cloak cover her, her broom, and as much of her trunk hanging off her broom as possible, she soared into the night home free.