A/N: I am very sorry for a sudden hiatus, and then the only thing I do upon return is edit. However, I do hope that it makes the story as a whole better when it is finally finished. Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it, aside from this fanfiction and any I may write in the future. I make no money or gain in any way aside from satisfaction of writing from this work. I hope you all are well, and my sincerest apologies.

Harry stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of his small flat. The man stared into his own eyes, searching for something that was not there. The once shining eyes, alight with humor and hope were now dark, a testament to the things he had witnessed. That happiness was long gone. The man dropped his eyes from his face and took in the rest of his appearance. He had become a hardened warrior, and he dressed like it. his lean body was shrouded in dark clothes. his cloak held the only color in the outfit: a green trim around it, the same dark shade as his eyes. His wand was hidden in a holster on his wrist, ready to be brought out in less than a moment's notice. long gone were the days he would fumble for his wand in a panic as people died. Suddenly, the image of Alastor Moody flashed through Harry's mind; he resisted the urge to let out a grim chuckle. He was probably just as paranoid as that old man, if not more so, truth be told.

He made his way to the bedroom, marginally larger than the one he had spent time in as he grew up. The Dursleys… a sigh escaped him as the man began to pack all of his important belongings into an expensive-looking trunk. He had bought it to hold all of his belongings and money. He was fairly confident in his calculations, but the weary man did not trust things to happen the way they had last time. That is why Harry wanted to go back, after all. Eventually, Harry finished packing up his things into the multi-compartment trunk. One for money, one for books, one for potions. (unbreakable glass, he wasn't sure he trusted that either.) He did not require one for clothes, as he was going to be a different size when he arrived at his destination.

As the raven haired man finished that work, he took a look around the small flat he had spent the last several years living in. The blank, empty walls, minimalist design. Harry would be glad to never see this place again. Grasping the handle of the trunk, he apparated. That was the last time he would see that place. A small tinge of satisfaction went through him at the thought as he felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a tube, from one place to another. When he landed, he set the trunk down, pulled a dagger out of his cloak, and removed said cloak, laying it across the trunk. When he had finished putting everything aside, he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt and began. Harry squatted on the ground and began carving runes into the cold, hard, ground. The process took well over two hours, and when he was done, he was in the center of a large web of runes; spiraling together, the smallest forming medium sized runes that come together to form larger runes that create the massive rune needed for the rite.

This singular rune was almost a perfect circle, Harry still squatting in the middle. Ever so carefully, he stood. He did not dare use his magic right now. This was risky enough, he was not entirely sure it would work the way it should. But it was his best bet. He had spent years planning, calculating, researching. He lifted the trunk, and carefully set it down where he had been squatting. He pulled a second dagger out of the cloak, and sliced his palm with it. He let his blood drip along the elaborate lines crossing each other and swirling into intricate designs. When there is a line of blood all around the circle, he staunched the blood flow with a handkerchief. He stepped carefully over the runes, and sat on the trunk. He pulled out his wand, touched the tip of it to the ground, and began chanting. As he chanted, Harry became excited. He was about to go back! He be able to see everyone again! A spark of happiness almost brought a smile to his face, so unused to the gesture. Suddenly, he remembered his words, and he forced himself to slow his thoughts and continue chanting without incident.

Abruptly, there was a harsh wind blowing, the runes and blood were gone, as if he had not spent all that time carving runes into the solid ground, and spilled his own blood on it. A light seemed to shine from within Harry, and by the time it was over, he was gone, along with his trunk. However, he hadn't gone back to where he thought...