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Harry looked around four beds now barren of pillows and bed sheets greeted him. On the last one, the one against the window were his belongings; one small backpack and a wooden box the size of a cigar humidifier. That was what his life amounted to. He clutched the letter he had received that very morning.

They had kicked Fudge out of office.

Bastard was not even competent at keeping appearances. He thought.

The new government under Minister Bones didn't like them. It was immoral they said. They didn't care about all they had done to help. They were closing them down, erasing their dirty secret, they didn't want it to pollute their idyllic world.

Politicians were politicians, Harry didn't care about that, but that so many people agreed with them. That stung. After all they had done for them, so they could lead their lives however the fuck they saw fit. After all they had given up on for them.

They'll come begging in a few weeks when death eaters go wild.

It was for the best they repeated again and again as if that made it true. They deserved a life...Harry liked the life he had now. He closed his hand around the tore envelope again the paper creasing under his grip.

"Potter! Don't lurk around! Hurry up I want to go home!" A ministry official said.

Harry bawled his other fist. There was a time his name was a secret. The simple fact of knowing it was considered treason if you didn't have the needed level of clearance. Harry put the box in his backpack and slung it on his shoulder.

In his way out he spied the director's door open. Perhaps he could find a bottle of fire whiskey they, at least, owed him that. He stepped in the office as empty as the rest of the building, clearer parts of stone where paintings once hung were the only indicator that the office had ever been occupied. Not that it had been much more full the past few weeks. Everything had been burned down the moment Fudge had lost the vote of no confidence.

Harry went to the side table. Two different glass decanters sat in the reddish wood table. Harry opened the first and smelled. The black thick smell invaded his nose chocking him. It smelled bitter like charcoal, some hints of honey tried to mask the bitterness with little success. Low end. They owed him a lot more for fucking his life.

The second decanter gave a grey smell, instead of burning his nose it tickled it. It reminded him of toasted nuts and Colombian coffee with a sweet touch. Harry took a small sip. It didn't burn your mouth like low end fire whiskey did, this one was hot on your mouth like a nice mug of tea, then warm on your throat and divine in you intestines. It tasted like honey, and wet wood. This was the one. Harry picked up the bottle and left the room.

Johnson passed him by holding a cardboard box. Harry held the bottle up.

"Wanna join?"

"Um, look Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but it seems like I actually have a life ahead of me, something I didn't think was possible and I would prefer not to see you or this place again. I just want to have a normal life and do things girls my age would do."

"Normal is overrated."

"No, to me it isn't. Have a good life Harry," She smiled for a moment and hurried away.

It hurt. He couldn't blame Serena, he knew how many nights she had cried herself to sleep thinking of the life she had not been allowed to chose, but it hurt. He considered her, all of them, his brothers and sisters in arms. They had shared so much. Now they were all thrilled to leave this place. Perhaps what united them was a common situation and task that was no longer there. Harry cast one last glance at the place he had called home for the last sixteen years, the only home he knew, and left.

Outside the sun blinded him, white spots erupted in his eyes, then turned to black and then, gradually, faded away. "Now remember Mr. Potter that you are still considered a minor that means no magic outside school and no apparition until you get your license." Madame Umbridge, the senior official the ministry had sent to oversee the dismantlement said.

They had had no problem considering him and adult for years because he was of some use for them but now the Wizengamot had decided he was a minor. He had no say, he had never had it, well fuck the ministry and the Wizengamot.

Harry secured his backpack and raised his wand. It took a while, if it was longer than normal Harry didn't know, but the purple bus appeared in front of him.

"Where to? the conductor asked. The letter had provided an address but Harry didn't want to go there today.

"Diagon alley please." Harry gave him the money he asked for an sat on an empty seat. He put the backpack at his feet and extracted the letter. He had read it twice that morning and he still couldn't believe it. His parents, the ones he had been told all his life were dead were alive, what was more he had a younger sister about to enter her fourth year at Hogwarts.

That morning when they had handed out the termination notifications many had cheered, screamed or cried elated. Harry belonged to the group that had stared at the letter stunned. It wasn't that he wasn't happy, but this people were not his parents or sister. He didn't know them. They didn't know him and he was about to wreck their pretty perfect life. It wouldn't be the first time he did that to someone but they usually deserved it.

Harry uncorked the decanter and drank. Since he was a minor now this was probably the last time he would have the chance to do that in at least a year. The bus stopped.

"Godric's Hollow! Godric's Hollow!" The driver said.

Aided by the liquid courage he had just had Harry went to the exit and stepped out. He looked at the address in the letter and started searching for the right number. He wouldn't have needed the indications he realized, the house was by far the biggest in town.

Harry walked through the stone path in the grass to the door. Last chance to turn around and run away. He knocked on the door.

A woman answered the door. "Can I help you?"

If Harry had expected a welcome party, hugs screams and tears included he was wrong, They had clearly not been debriefed. Maybe the memo got lost. The woman didn't recognized him. He didn't blame her, she was accustomed at seeing him as an engraving in a tombstone.

Harry stood there scrutinizing her. Seeing if looking as those identical green eyes, much more...alive than his, those eyes he had only seen on pictures woke some feelings in him. Nothing. The smell of apple pie wafted from the house through the door and into his nose. She tilted her head waiting for him to speak.

"Honey who is it?" A masculine voice asked from inside. The question was ignored. Harry and the woman looked at each other expectant as two Victorian era gentlemen about to duel each other. How could he explain to this woman something he didn't believe himself. He should turn around and pretend he got the wrong address.

He thrust the creased letter at her and said; "read this."