Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, I would be much richer than I am now, and would probably buy this site instead of publish on it.

A/N: To elaborate, Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts when Harry didn't give himself up. Voldemort basically killed or captured everyone in Hogwarts, which was basically all of the good guys except, well, Harry.

Oh, and please know that Voldemort can no longer see into Harry's mind. The science-y stuff is that, as the number of remaining Horcruxes fell, and more of Voldemort's soul was destroyed, the weaker his connection to the last soul fragments grew.

This is my first fic, enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review. Your feedback means the most to me.

Chapter 1

Tottenham Court Road, London, UK. 2:30 AM.

A sharp crack disturbed the air on the otherwise quiet street. Harry shuddered, and sat on a nearby bench. The cold wind in London was enough to do a little more than chill him. He wandered along the street, still in his robes, wondering just what he was going to do. He had expected to be more traumatized by the intense battle in which he had been immersed in not more than a minute ago. Voldemort was going to win. Harry had cut the Dark Lord's work out for him. As Voldemort and the Death Eaters had begun breaking into into the Room of Requirement in which he, Ron, and Hermione had been tending to the wounded, Harry knew it was over. Hermione said, frankly, "Leave now. You're the only one who can beat him, and I know he won't kill us. He needs us for leverage." The crowd murmured in agreement, and ushered Harry over to the painting of Ariana Dumbledore. Hermione told her, "Take him to Hogsmeade, and see that he disapparates." Ariana nodded sagely, and the portrait swung away from the wall. Harry shared a brief hug with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, then left the building. As the door swung closed behind him, he heard a tremendous explosion as the doors of the Room of Requirement were blasted open. He ran faster, as he heard Voldemort laughing, saying, "It seems your hero has abandoned you." That voice echoed through his head, but he knew that Hermione knew what she was doing. As he reached the Hog's Head, he stepped from the painting, which swung closed silently, and promptly disapparated, to where he was now.

He was lost. All of his living friends, his contacts in the magical world, all of them had been in that room. And he had just left them at the mercy of the Dark Lord. But he knew Hermione was right. He wouldn't kill them, because he needed Harry, and he knew that Harry would have no reason to come back if his friends were dead. But, Harry was stuck. He had nowhere to go. Sure, he could disapparate to somewhere remote. I mean, he could go practically anywhere, now that Voldemort could no longer see into his mind, he had to manually search for Harry. Voldemort was a patient person, and he knew that, eventually, Harry would come back. And, he was right. But, again the question returned: from where would he come back? He couldn't just go somewhere alone, he needed food, and he needed to better his magic. But he had nowhere to go to!

He thought about all that he had gone through, saving the school from Professor Quirrel, killing a basilisk, saving his godfather, winning a wizarding tournament – "Wait!" He thought. He realized that he had a few magical contacts remaining, the contestants of the Triwizard Tournament. Hell, he had their entire schools to help him. Surely they would pledge allegiance to him, The Boy Who Lived! He had a choice, either Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang. He instantly chose Beauxbatons, seeing as, well, they were all girls, and that he didn't much care for interaction with the cold, militaristic Scandinavians. Hell, he had no clue where Durmstrang was! But, he had learned from Gabrielle and Fleur at Bill and Fleur's wedding that their school was high in the Pyrenees, the mountains that form part of the border between France and Spain.

He realized that he could, however, take the Floo network to Beauxbatons. But, he noted, pulling out Draco's wand, "This flimsy wand won't last me much longer." He Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where the fireplace was blazing. He went up to the clerk, who looked old, tired, and grumpy, and rented a room. He got to his room, closed the door behind him, and promptly fell asleep on his bed.