Chapter One

Number 4 Privet Drive

Harry Potter had intended to never return to Number 4 Privet Drive.

The street was located in Little Whinging, Surrey, near London in the southeast of England. The houses of his old neighborhood were nearly identical to one another with luxury cars parked in every driveway. It was May 2nd, 1998. Standing in the middle of the street, he pulled his invisibility cloak about him in the nippy 50° breeze and gazed up at the overcast sky. He relished this moment of silence, away from prying reporters with their flashing cameras and their intrusive questions.

No one had much care as to what Harry wanted to do. In truth, he did want to celebrate his victory. But, his jubilation was marred by the inconsiderable amount he had lost to be standing on this street today.

On the cusp of a new lease on life.

Harry had fantasized about resting in the Gryffindor dormitory and eating a sandwich from Kreacher, his house elf. Though Tom Riddle Jr. has been vanquished forever, Harry knew he had a few tasks he could not rest without completing. In spite of how the Dursleys had always treated him as a third-class citizen, he would be lying to himself if he claimed he wasn't curious to see how they fared over the last year. Harry watched shadows moving inside the house, blocked off by sheer curtains. He recognized the purple top hat bobbing on top of its silhouette.

Harry walked up the driveway and pulled off his cloak at the front door. He knocked quietly at the door, half-hoping not to be heard. When the door was answered, Harry was deafened by shouts.

"HARRY POTTER!" Diggle shouted. "What are you doing here, my lad?"

He was promptly half-dragged deeper into the house. Jones closed the door behind them. She was a young black haired woman with pink cheeks. The Dursley house was in disarray, though there were signs that cleaning up had started. The Deatheaters had ransacked the place in search of killing the Boy Who Lived. Harry could hear his family gossiping about him in hushed voices from the sitting room.

He had not turned to look at them yet. All the Dursleys would be able to see is Harry's back. They had never seen him in his Magical World attire before.

"You ought to be out celebrating!" Jones was cross with him. "Leading the parade!"

"You'll have a Firewhiskey on me!"

Harry was pulled by Diggle into the sitting room and he fleetingly met Dudley's eyes. He thought he saw a flicker of concern arch over his aunt and uncle's faces. Harry knew he did not look well at all.

"Did you really die?!" Jones was asking Harrt. "We were told that you died!"

Harry did not miss the reactions on the Dursleys' faces at that particular question. Dudley was frowning and his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Still not fully understanding what had happened after Voldemort had hit him with the Killing Curse, Harry did not feel comfortable answering this question.

But, he extended his arms, "I'm alright now."

Diggle tackled him around his chest again. He had always been an excitable man and a devoted fan of Harry's. Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. He had seen the celebrations back at Hogwarts.

"You arrived moments after we did." Jones informed Harry. "We were about to set the house right just as you -"

Harry furrowed his brows, "No, you two go celebrate. I'll set the stuff back."

"No!" Diggle cried. "You must go back to the Burrow! The Weasleys will be missing you -"

Harry grinned, "They know where I am and when I'm to return. It's ok. Go. You've earned it."

Perhaps it was because Harry looked as though he might keel over at any moment, but the Aurors did not argue with him further. Harry sniffled and cleared his throat. Diggle and Jones were soon out the door and they turned to wave back at him.

"Thanks a lot." Harry nodded.

"No, thank you, Mr. Potter!" Jones replied enthusiastically.

"The Boy Who Lived!" Diggle cheered. "TWICE!"

He watched Diggle and Jones disapparated before closing the door behind him. He noticed that the electric fireplace was running and made his way over to the heat. The silence was stupid to Harry. Once his hands were warmed, Harry waved his wand and all of the chairs, tables, cushions, and appliances glided back to their original spots.

He did not know any cleaning spells more advanced than that. He stowed his wand inside of his robe and then, finally, he faced the Dursleys. Harry could see that uncle Vernon wasn't as big, beefy, and purple-faced as before. His black mustache was thinning and had a few strands of silver in it now. He must have lost weight because this was the first time Harry could see his uncle's neck.

Perhaps his uncle had shrunk as well, but Harry was taller than him now.

"I didn't think we'd see you again ... so soon." Uncle Vernon said, blinking himself to the present.

"I can't stay long. I'm just passing through. I've got to meet my godson." Harry explained.

"Godson?" Uncle Vernon repeated.

Harry beamed at his feet for a moment before narrowing his eyes up at his uncle, "Forgive me if I don't write you for advice on raising an orphan."

Uncle Vernon said nothing. Harry looked over at his cousin. Dudley had always resembled his father apart from his blond hair. He was slenderer than Harry would have ever thought was possible, though still physically intimidating. Dudley seemed horrorstruck into silence.

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew why they were all looking at him in this way. Though he could appreciate that this past year has not been easy for the Dursleys, they were kept well out of the battle and unexposed from the afflictions of war. And Harry was displaying many symptoms all at once. He was thinner than he had ever been in his life, to an alarming degree.

His cheeks were deflated, his cheekbones jutting out, and the muscles of his jaw were too easily visible. Each time he closed his mouth, they could be seen flexing beneath his skin. He was paler than Nearly Headless Nick. Harry hadn't had the chance to cut his jet-black hair yet, which had grown to his shoulders over the year. He had a number of nicks and bruises on his face.

He had dark circles beneath his striking, green eyes. Even the lenses of his circular glasses were dirty. Harry wondered if the Dursleys were trying to recall how he had looked the last time they saw him. When they had said 'goodbye' for good. He had left Dudley on good enough terms.

Harry then found himself doubting why he had come at all.

Was he showing off his victory to the Dursleys?

Why would he want to do that?

He didn't need to prove anything to them ... did he?

After all, they had condemned Harry for being orphaned and discriminated him because of his magical powers. Before he could give any more thought to the matter, Harry addressed them.

"The war is over," Harry announced. "You're safe now. No more safe houses." He looked to his aunt and uncle, "The Deatheaters are being rounded up. The innocent are being released from Azkaban.

"I'm expected at the Ministry tomorrow. I reckon that you'll get your job back, uncle Vernon. Dudley, you can go back to school. Aunt Petunia, you can do ... cleaning. I think I'll speak for everyone when I suggest we keep all further communication to Christmas cards?"

Harry wished they would stop staring ... even more so that they would speak to him. That seemed to be unlikely to happen. Harry had someone important he needed to meet. He nodded curtly and turned to leave when finally Dudley spoke.

"Wait. Aren't you moving back in with us, H-Harry?"

He could not see his aunt and uncle's faces, but Harry pictured their looks of horror at the thought. He made sure his smirk was gone before turning around.

Harry faced Dudley, "No, Dudley."

Aunt Petunia had her jaw set and nodded. It would be inappropriate to them for Harry to ask for a room. Harry wouldn't dream of it even if he were welcomed to. This place was not home for Harry anymore.

"But where are you gonna live then?" Dudley followed up.

That was a question Harry had not been asked by anyone yet. He shouldn't be surprised that it was Dudley whom brought it up. He had been worrying about that very thing the last time they had spoken to each other. Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia were staring at Harry. It was like Dudley was their mouthpiece.

They were lost for words, probably trying to shake the notion of Harry being a parental figure now. Harry had yet to have the concept hit him, either. He expected that it would once he saw Teddy.

Harry told Dudley, "I'll be renting an apartment near the Ministry, I reckon. Till then, I've got a place to stay with my friends." He then smirked, "As tempting as sharing a bed with you sounds, Big D ..."

Dudley grinned but said nothing. Harry was surprised at himself for being able to crack a joke so soon. Maybe he would be alright after all. Suddenly, Harry's nose led him to noticing a cooler set on the floor near the dining table. When he moved towards it, his aunt and uncle retreated a step or two though he had not passed near them at all.

It was like there was a Bengal tiger loose in their home, unpredictable and dangerous. Harry ought to have known better than to wish for better treatment. He opened their cooler and was pleased to find some sweets in it. Dudley had not changed all that much in the intervening time. That gave Harry some relief.

"May I have one?" he asked his cousin.

Dudley nodded. Harry fished out one and tucked in, leaning on the counter. Harry was hungry enough to eat all the sweets. But, he did not want to impose on the Dursleys any longer. He had done enough of that in his life.

Though it was entertaining to flaunt how much of a better human being he was than his aunt and uncle. To flaunt that they had not ruined Harry when they very well could have. That he was the man he was today without their love ... just showed how strong his spirit was.

Harry wiped his hands on his filthy jeans, "Well, I've got somebody to meet."

He nodded to Dudley and his aunt and his uncle. Closing the front door behind him, Harry felt a fraction of the weight lift off of his shoulders. He did not need to confront the Dursleys directly about the abuse they treated him with. This had been enough.