"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

"Really soon, Harry" said Hermione earnestly. "We promise."
Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around, and led the way out of the station toward the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

Harry Potter sat in the car as it rode off in the highway on its long trip to Number 4, Privet Drive. His eyes were distant; he looked out the window reminiscing about the past events of his fifth year. He decided hands down that not only was it the most absurd, but also tragic and full of loss. His godfather was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Sirius wouldn't like that, Harry thought. He knew in his heart that Sirius wouldn't want Harry blaming everything on himself. And so he won't. However, that wouldn't prevent him from feeling bad about his death. A gleam of determination entered his eyes, the gleam that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin know so well. It was the gleam that James Potter used to have when he sought out to do something and wouldn't stop until he met his goal. He was fed up with everyone telling him he was too young. He was fed up with everyone trying to protect him. He could take care of himself.

The person to blame for all the hurt in his life was not himself, but it was Voldemort. The man who caused a countless number of injuries and deaths throughout the wizarding world. The man who was responsible for Harry's suffering. Harry reached a decision. He was going to go after Voldemort. The wizarding world needed a hero, someone to take a stand against the evil Dark Lord. Dumbledore did it against Grindelwald in 1945. Now in 1996, a new champion shall arise by the name of Harry Potter, Voldemort's equal. But how was the question. How was he going to get the power, and the knowledge to do so? Unbeknownst to him, his answer would come soonc

The car arrived at Number 4, Privet Drive with a very tiredc 'family' inside. Dudley Dursley bolted out of the car and as fast as his little calf-ankles could carry him. He ran inside the house to catch his favourite TV programme. A distant noise could be heard from outside as a fifteen year old approaching sixteen carried out a heavy trunk out of the car's boot. Uncle Vernon wanted nothing more to do with Harry and his actions showed it when he walked past Harry and accidentally knocked Harry down with that big brute arm of his. Now on the floor, Harry had a look that showed anger on his face as he scurried to raise himself up from the ground.

Uncle Vernon scoffed and uttered out a sentence, "You should be lucky I even wasted time to pick you up boy," as soon as those words left his mouth, he immediately regretted it. Harry Potter decided that he'd had it. He was tired of people treating him like dirt when he did not do anything to deserve the treatment.

"You know Uncle Vernon, fine. How about we reach a compromise hmm? You stay out of my way, and I yours. It's quite obvious you don't want anything to do with me, and neither do I want anything to do with you." The words were not as frightening as the tone that accompanied them. That and the look in the adolescent's eyes told Vernon to back offc Or else.

Vernon hurried inside the house, scared of what might happen next. Would Potter tell those freaks that Vernon acted a bit ill towards him? He decided to take up Harry's offer, and he stayed out of Harry's way.

Aunt Petunia was the only other person besides Harry that was outside of the house. Making sure that her son and husband weren't around; she walked up to Harry and said in a whisper only loud enough for Harry to hear. "There are a few sandwiches in the refrigerator and a glass of milk. You may have those if you want. I've also received a letter from your Headmaster telling me of the events that occurred over the past few days. Sorry to hear about your godfather." Once that final word emitted from her mouth, she quickly walked inside, as if nothing had happened. Harry stood there flabbergasted, not knowing what to do. Did his aunt, the wife of his magic-hating uncle show him an act of compassion after fifteen long years? His eyebrow quivered, not knowing how to act exactly, but to take up her offer. With a heave, Harry lifted his school trunk and walked up the stairs, to his small inadequate bedroom. Opening the door, he noticed that the room looked as same as the night he left it. Walking to the side of his room, he placed his trunk down and hurried down the stairs to retrieve his first friend from the wizarding world, his owl, Hedwig.

Back outside, near the boot of the car, Harry saw a strange object. It was a spherical small ball, no bigger than the size of the golden snitch; it was shining a bright blue as it laid there on the ground. He took interest to the object, bending down and placing it in his pocket and telling himself to check it out later. Grabbing Hedwig's cage with his right hand, his left hand closed the boot of the car and walked back up to his room.

Once in his room, Harry opened his window a bit to let in some fresh air, and had allowed Hedwig some time to go exploring. He squinted his eyes, for the sun was bright, high in the sky the sun shone down on Number 4 Privet Drive with its radiating energy. Corresponding to the sun's unusual brightness that day, the small ball that was in Harry's pocket had began to grow warm. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the sphere. It shone a brighter cyan blue. He looked at the sphere closely, and noticed a number. The number that displayed twenty-four began to glow and was now imbued with light. Gradually, it became to dim as it returned to a previous state but the 24 was now replaced with a 23.

From this Harry can infer that it was counting down the hours in a day. Was this a time portkey?

Apparently this signified an event that was soon to take place in less than a day. Harry didn't know what it was but he was sure to be there when the timer reached zero. Now remembering the sandwiches Aunt Petunia made for him, Harry came down the stairs and made his way to the refrigerator. He did not notice his mother's sister sitting at the table as he passed by. He was about to ascend back up to his room, food in hand, when a voice made him jump.

"How was school?" enquired Aunt Petunia. Harry turned around, a bit shocked really. This was about to be the first civil conversation he would have with his Aunt. And about Hogwarts for that matter! Harry sat down at the table with his aunt, and before taking a bite out of his sandwich, replied to her question.

"It was fine, but why you are suddenly interested?" replied Harry. The answer to that question came, but it wasn't the one he was expecting.

"I realise I haven't been the perfect Aunt for you Harry. I was pondering something the other day, I came to a decision. And that is to treat you with the respect you deserve. You might not be my son, but you are my nephew. I know that if Vernon and I were dead and Lily and James had to take care of Dudley, they wouldn't treat you as Vernon and I had treated you. They would have treated him as if he was their own, with love. I'm afraid that was something you grew up without Harry, and for that I'm sorry."

Harry lost the ability to eat, his aunt was sorry? His thoughts were interrupted by a sniff, emanating from his aunt. Looking back to his Aunt, she looked like she was going to break down. Her eyes started to glisten and her breathing had become to hyperventilate.

"Ic brokec myc promise... I promisedc to raise youc asc my ownc and I didn't. Yourc motherc wouldc be so upsetc with me." Petunia said in between intakes of air.

By now, the tears were beginning to form in her eyes and Aunt Petunia bit her bottom lip to prevent any sound from coming out of her mouth. Harry felt his eyes sting also; certainly his parents would raise Dudley as if he was their own son. He did not know his parents well, but he knew that they would take in another out of the purity in their hearts and do such a thing. A wave of silence washed over, lasting for a near ten minutes.

Breaking the silence Harry said, "Aunt Petunia, I'm sure my mother would be disappointed but please, don't worry about it. What's done is done. I don't know if I can forgive you. It'll certainly take some time, but I'll try.' Harry sent his Aunt a feigned smile, to let her know that it was okayc He wasn't angry at her, just indifferent.

Aunt Petunia simply nodded and walked up the stairs and to her and Vernon's room. Harry contemplated this revelation from his aunt over a few sandwiches and a glass of milk. Finishing the final bite, he took the plate and glass, and placed them in the sink to wash later. Slowly, Harry walked back up to his room; the day was too much already. Sleep was a pleasant idea. He collapsed onto his bed, and soon sleep took over him and enveloped him in a serene slumber.

It was a few hours later when Harry awoke, he looked out his window, and wondered something. The sky was dark and the stars were shining majestically in their place A specific cohort of stars caught Harry's attention. Feeling contained, Harry wanted some space and some fresh air to breath. He glanced over at his clock's illuminating light that shone through the darkness, 1: 13am.

He sat up on his bed, thinking over what his Aunt told him yesterday's afternoon; clearly her revelation had an impact on him. Wanting some time to think not about what his aunt had told Harry, but also some other things. Harry walked out of his room, down the stairs, and out the door. It was not before long until he reached the local park. He used to come here a lot when he did little, when he was lost, not know what to do.

Placing his hands behind his head, his eyes gazed back up to the heavenly stars lighting up the sky. A constellation caught his interest; it was the constellation of Canis Major. A dog and one of the bright stars that composed the constellation was called Sirius.

Thoughts of his godfather came back and imbued his mind once again and the tears came back. He remembered a song, a song he heard a while ago on the radio station while the Dursley's were away. Fade to Black was the title of the song. The lyrics came back in his mind as if he was hearing it just now. Harry felt like his life seems to fade away, drifting further as time went on. He was lost within himself; at this point in his life, nothing matters, no one else besides his godfather.

Sirius, I'm sorry I could not save you. Harry started to cry, and mourned for Sirius and promised himself that this will be the last time. He knew Sirius wouldn't want to be reminisced like this, but he couldn't help it. He finally acknowledged the fact that his godfather truly passed away. His cries and tears were silent, but heavy. They were the silent tears of a lost child, not able to find his mother. They were the silent cries of a fallen hero, who failed at his quest and had gotten someone killed.

His face became grim, searching through his mind, he reached a dead-end. I have lost the will to live Harry thought. What could there be for him left? He lost the closest thing to a father; his only living relatives hated him. The determined gleam in his eyes returned as his jaw became clenched.

Damn you Voldemort. You're going to pay for this, not just for Sirius oh no. But for everyone, you're going to truly suffer. Harry thought. The prophecy came back in his mind, line by line as he recalled it.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approachesc born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month diesc and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows notc and either must die at the hands of another for neither can live while the other survivesc The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month diesc"

Harry already translated to simpler terms. He knew that in the end, it was either he or Voldemort that'll defeat each other in the end. He was prophesised to defeat Voldemort and what is this "power the Dark Lord knows not?" Remembering the events at the Ministry when Voldemort made his appearance, he saw Dumbledore duelled with Voldemort. Surely that was more power than Harry will ever acquirec right? He finally saw why people claimed that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard alive, at the Ministry, his magical aura seemed to radiated pure power. When Professor Dumbledore fought with Voldemort, gone was the old school headmaster, but replaced that was the man that defeated Grindelwald.

Dumbledore told him that his power was love? How was Harry supposed to defeat him then? Kiss his enemy to death? As Harry mused to himself, dry chuckle escaped from his mouth as the thought of the most powerful Dark Lord killed from a kiss. With a finality, Harry stood up and sniffed one last time. With the back of his hand, he wiped away the remaining tears left on his face and swore to himself that he'll be a better person because of this.

Suddenly, "Excuse me, are you alright?" A voice spoke out along with a hand landing on his shoulder from the darkness beside him. Reflex kicked into gear as Harry abruptly drew his wand, spun a full circle and pointed his weapon at the figure with a stern expression on his face.

"AH!" a feminine voice exerted, and soon followed after that, "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was walking by and saw you, I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"If anyone should be sorry, it's me. Just reflexes and I'm sorry if I scared you also," assured Harry. Remembering his manners, Harry reached out his hand and introduced himself.

"By the way, I'm Harry Potter."

The girl placed her right hand forward to grasp the young man's. He looked so lost. He looked as though he could use a friend right now too. Samantha Russell decided to comfort the stranger, even if she didn't know him well. Wait a tick, Harry Potter? That name was familiar to her. Had she heard it somewhere before? Searching her mind for where she heard the name before. Realisation fell upon her as she widened. This was the Boy-Who-Lived! Funny thing as she thought to herself. The image she got from the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler was this hero, someone who was a charismatic powerful character. Is this the person beneath the scar?

"Samantha Russell. I'm sorry to ask, but why are you crying?" responded Samantha.

Harry paused for a bit, she appeared as if she was a muggle. Well, she was dressed like one. And also, he didn't know if she knew anything of the wizarding world or not. He chose to play it safe and if she was a witch, then she can know more about hisc troubles. In the dark, his emerald eyes examined her face a bit. She had a face of sincerity and eyes he could gaze into.

"I apologise to you for meeting me in such a condition. But I was grieving the loss of my late godfather." Harry spoke candidly. He really wanted someone to confide in, someone to share his pain with. He thought of this person again, in his mind he knew: he was making a friend.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Her hands went up to her mouth, covering it in astonishment.

"I know how losing a loved one is like; I lost my grandpa a few months ago. It's hard but you'll get over it eventually. I'm sure that your godfather wouldn't want you remembering him like this, but rather how he lived," comforted Samantha. In her mind she knew she could relate with this Harry Potter.

Harry smiled at her, knowing that she was being sincere and not acting out of pity. Deciding to change the subject, Harry chose a more comfortable subject for the two of them to talk about.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Harry asked as his face showed interest to this young lady in the dark.

It was with that question that the two of them spent hours conversing with one another. They talked about everything ranging from music to animals, weather to politics. Before long, while still talking with each other; they finally saw the speck of light hovering over the horizon and shining in both their eyes. As the sun rose ethereally over the hills, they finally saw each other in the full light. To Harry, Samantha looked absolutely beautiful. Her cinnamon reddish hair accentuated her brown chocolate eyes he could stare into, and her smile made his heart flutter.

Samantha was now staring into Harry's jaded emerald eyes. She saw that these eyes showed a great deal of despair. Despite the significant amount of despair and sorrow his eyes portrayed, she noticed a small glimmer of hope and determination that shone through his eyes prevailing the negative emotions. Aside from his distinguishing eyes, she also saw the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. The mark of how everyone knew him and how he became the Boy-Who-Lived. Her ponderings were disturbed as Harry decided to break the silence shared between them and said sheepishly, "Erc sorry. I was just thinking about something. You're really beautiful you know?" Harry smiled and pulled his right hand to scratch the back of his head.

Samantha blushed; yes, people had told her that in the past. But now, coming from this person she just met a few hours earlier, she began to blush. Why was he different? Was it because it was coming from a celebrity and not a common-man? Or perhaps the way he said it, it was with sincerity behind the words and its tone of how it was said.

Smiling, she replied, "Yeah. But coming from youc it means something different."

Curiously, Harry raised an eyebrow at her, "Different, what do you mean? Different good or different bad?"

"Oh no! I meant different good."

At this moment, Harry smiled at her, a real smile. Samantha turned away bashfully, admitting to herself that she was blushing profusely.

"Now that the sun is now up, would you me to walk you home? I think I speak for the both of us when I say that neither of us got sleep last night," offered Harry.

It was now Samantha's turn to smile, "Sure, I'd like that."

The two of them arose from the bench where they were sitting and walked adjacent to each other down the street. A couple houses later, they arrived at an exquisite two-story house. The front lawn was richly green and had elegant flowers bordering the edges of the lawn. Approaching the mahogany door with a diamond-shaped window in the upper half of the door, Harry turned to Samantha and gazed into her eyes. Samantha looked back at Harry, and their eyes locked. They had stayed like that for a few moments, neither one of them making a move.

Samantha reached inside her pocket, for the key to enter the house. But before she did, she told Harry to wait for a bit. As she went inside her house, she looked around for some paper and a pen to write with. Finally spotting a spare sheet near a desk, quickly she wrote down her name and telephone number on the paper. If he ever wanted to see her personally, he now knew where she lives. Satisfied with the note, she came back outside to find a confused Harry Potter with his arms crossed.

"Hey Harry, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," said Samantha, in case Harry was a bit upset.

"Oh, I don't mind. I was just thinking," said Harry with a small smile on his face.

"Here you go. Call me sometime, and it was great chatting with you." With that, Samantha handed Harry the note she had written. He waited until Samantha went back into her house and turned around making his way back to Number 4, Privet Drive with the note in his hand.

As she turned around from the door, she was startled by a voice.

"Where were you?"

Samantha jumped, "Dad?"

"How come you were out so late? You know that we have to be discreet to the Muggles." Her dad told her.

"I know Dad, but a boy named Harry Potter lost his godfather and was crying in the park. So I decided to comfort him." At the mention of Harry's name, her father's eyes went wide at shock. Of all the luck that Harry Potter had to fancy, it was his daughter. Just maybe...

"Dad, what's wrong? Is there something wrong with Harry?" his daughter's voice brought him back to reality.

"Huh? Oh nothings wrong. Nothing at all, that is all." Michael assured his daughter. Like most of the wizarding world, the parents of teenage daughters secretly hoped that the Boy-Who-Lived would fall in the love with theirs. Thinking of an idea, "Hey! Why don't you invite him to dinner tonight?" said Michael Russell.

"Hmm, alright. But I don't know where he lives though." Samantha told her father.

"Didn't you give him our number?" Samantha nodded, "Well, when he calls, invite him to dinner then. When he gets here, tell him that we're wizards alright? That way, there'll be nothing to hide."

"Alright Dad."

"Get some sleep," told Michael Russell.

"Okay, see you later Dad." assured Samantha.

Samantha made her way up to her room, and looked around her room. Jeez, I need to clean it she mused. She wasn't even moved into the house for two days and already, it was messy. She walked over to her bed as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. She tripped over a spare book lying on the ground and fumbled her way and crawled into her bed. As she laid in her bed, her eyes stared up to the ceiling of her room. Soon enough her eyes were closed and she fell into the calmness of sleep with thoughts of a certain green-eyed boy on her mind.

Harry made his way from Samantha's house back to the park and with a few turns here and there, he was back at Number Four, Privet Drive.

When he was back at the house of his last living family members, he quietly grabbed a small snack from the refrigerator before climbing up the stairs back to his room. His eyes fell on the old clock in his room, and it was now near the time when people usually got up to begin their day. Rubbing his face, his face grew tired from staying up the whole night. Removing his glasses from his face, he placed them on the small table near his bed as he fell onto the springed mattress with Samantha's note still in his hand.