Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or other Harry Potter information, and have no intention of making any money from this. Whatever rights are owned are owned by their respective owners.

This is my first piece of HP Fan Fiction. This story is not finished, but is imagined as a three story Arc, starting after Harry's fifth year. It contains mature themes like Sex and Violence and should only be read by a mature audience.

Harry goes 'Home'

Harry sat alone in his compartment on the train, quietly looking at his hands. At first he'd tried to deny it. Sirius was alive; he was just hit with a stunner. It was just a bloody doorway!

That hadn't worked long. He'd put his feelings on hold and charged after Bellatrix with the intent to kill her, and had to be rescued by the professor. The same professor who later told him his fate; kill Voldemort or die in his stead.

He'd torn the professor's office apart, blamed him for what had happened, then sat alone and wallowed in guilt and despair. How was HE supposed to beat the most evil wizard alive when he'd witnessed Dumbledore only just fight him to a standstill.

Others might not have noticed, but Dumbledore wasn't fairing well. He was getting more and more tired, reacting rather than acting, and having to protect Harry while also fighting the greatest enemy of all seemed too much for what was probably the greatest wizard alive at one time, but no more. Harry's fear was justified, and while the prophecy said he would have to fight Voldemort and that only he could possibly defeat him, it didn't say that Harry would win.

Others came and went, but no one said anything to him. Ron and Hermione had gone to patrol the train, leaving him alone. Neville, Ginny, and Luna were somewhere else. Not even Draco or his cronies came to harass the young man, for which he could at least have one thing for which to be thankful. His friends hadn't avoided him after recovering from the battle so much as been skittish around him; afraid to say anything and either cause him to explode or shut down completely.

And now, as the train slowed coming toward the station, Harry realized that he'd have to go back to his 'relatives', perhaps for the entire summer. Chores and beatings and starvation, with a dash of humiliation to spice it up a bit, all washed down with a healthy dose of guilty depression. At the present, the only thing keeping Harry from seriously contemplating ending his own life was the knowledge that no one else could defeat Voldemort. It was the one thing Harry had left to live for. Yes, Harry would center his life around revenge. In his mind he cried out, making a bargain with whatever deity or deities existed, his life for revenge.

But, in the meantime, there were many tortuous hours to pass, wasting precious time he should be training, suffering under his Aunt and Uncle and their offspring at the wish of the well-meaning headmaster.

Harry said nothing as he climbed off the train, trunk and owl cage behind him. His friends followed quietly, saying nothing, though Hermione looked pensive, as if she wished to say something but had no idea what, and Ron looked like he would rather be anywhere than where he was. Harry quietly stepped through the portal from platform 9 and 3/4ths and looked to find his overweight uncle, Vernon, only to spot him speaking with several Order members. By the time Harry reached them, they'd left the now purple faced man alone, and Remus stopped Harry.

"Harry, I want you to send us a letter every few days, make sure to let us know if you're ok, and if you're being treated fairly. We've spoken with your uncle and made it clear we'll be watching. You are to have a guard at all times, and if you are going to leave your uncle's home for any reason, please let your guard know where you're going and how long you will be away, and with whom. Be very careful this summer; now that Voldemort isn't hiding, he's bound to be more aggressive. And, if you need to talk Harry, let me know. Above all, remember, it's not your fault what happened." Remus then wrapped Harry in a hug, something quite unusual for the normally reserved man, but Harry was stiff and solemn, saying nothing and not returning the embrace.

Ron left with his family, saying nothing, and Harry had the distinct feeling he wouldn't be welcome at the Burrow this summer. Looking over at Hermione, she was talking briefly with her parents, but as he moved to turn away, she turned toward him and ran to him, clutching him around his waist.

"Harry, do be careful. I've spoken with my parents, and perhaps if you're agreeable, you can spend some time with me at my home this summer? I'll speak with Professor Dumbledore about it, is that ok?"

Harry nodded, not saying anything, but returned her hug and smiled briefly, glad for the possibility of an escape. Perhaps she'd known the Weasleys would not be as welcoming this summer as in the past, or perhaps she'd just known he needed a friend and someone to turn to for warmth. She looked up at his face, and he nodded again, letting her turn and leave to go with her parents. "I'll be in touch, Harry!"

"Listen to me carefully, boy! You may have those freaks looking out for you, but you will behave yourself. You will do what we ask you, when we ask you, and you will keep quiet and out of the way. If you do that, we'll feed you and leave you to your own devices, so long as you keep that freakishness out. If you don't, trust me, there are ways I can hurt you without them knowing."

Harry merely nodded and trudged on, trunk and cage behind him. In a way, perhaps this punishment was part of his bargain for revenge, and he would gladly pay it.

The drive back was quiet and a bit lonely, but his uncle said nothing further and upon their arrival at #4, Harry quickly unloaded his trunk and Hedwig's cage from the car and took it up to Dudley's second bedroom. As soon as he was inside and the trunk on the floor, he heard the locks click in place behind him. Harry opened the window to let Hedwig in when she arrived, then laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and blaming himself for everything that had happened. It was going to be a long summer.

Harry's days consisted of getting up at his uncle's bellow, quickly using the loo and perhaps getting a shower if he was extra quick, then preparing breakfast for everyone else. After he was done with breakfast, his uncle would tell him his chores for the day, expecting them done by the time he returned from work (or by afternoon tea if it was a weekend). Generally speaking, the chores weren't any more than previous years; tending the garden, cleaning the garage, painting the walls, shutters, mowing the lawn, and the usual assortment of trials. Unlike previous years, there were no beatings, but Harry mindlessly went about his work, giving his surrogate guardians no trouble, and remarkably, they generally left him to his own devices, even feeding him once a day. Yes, there were sneers and the occasional badmouthing of his parentage, his 'kind', and what have you, but unlike previous years, Harry simply ignored it, not responding one way or the other. Eventually Vernon left him alone even about that, and Dudley, unable to get a rise out of him, but forbidden from 'leaving a mark their kind can find', went to find easier pickings elsewhere. Petunia said nothing at all to Harry, though he could hear her voice whenever she was gossiping, talking to Vernon, fawning over her "Duddikins', or talking on the telephone to Marge or someone else.

After chores and his single meal for the day, Harry would retire to his room to 'study', which mostly consisted of him brooding over his lot in life, the loss of his godfather, the estrangement from his best male friend, and his disastrous relationship with Cho Chang. It wasn't that he was bothered by not working things out with Cho; on the contrary he'd pretty much decided she was all flash and no bang, so to speak. He merely thought that it was his fault. He wasn't good enough to be a boyfriend, and didn't deserve her, or any other girl's, affections. This did bring his mind around to the strange feeling of warmth he had when Hermione had given him a hug, and he'd returned it. Unlike the others, she seemed to genuinely sympathize and be looking out for him, and Harry was a bit confused by the different reactions between her and the Weasleys.

Harry did write his letters, generally brief, though he found himself writing a bit more to Hermione than any of the others. Professor Lupin did care, but Harry wasn't comfortable talking with him about his feelings. Ron hadn't written once, nor Ginny, nor any Weasley (other than the twins briefly to tell him about how their progress opening a joke shop was going). He wasn't certain, but he thought perhaps his surrogate family had abandoned him over the injuries their youngest members had sustained in a vain attempt to rescue a man who wasn't in any danger until they'd mounted a rescue, against Hermione's advice. But Hermione cared, listened, and didn't judge. She did repeatedly tell him that he shouldn't blame himself, that they'd done all they could to try and confirm the vision, that Harry couldn't possibly have left his godfather to Voldemort's lack of mercy, or known that it was a trap, and that once sprung Harry had successfully kept them all alive against superior numbers with superior training, no small feat. The mirror Harry found in the bottom of his trunk spoke otherwise; why hadn't he remembered it! If only he could go back and change things, find a way to keep Sirius from flowing through the veil, grab him and pull him back.

Harry wrote to her about many things, both mundane and not so mundane, and as their letters passed back and forth, he could tell they were growing closer, and in a part of his heart, this pleased him. What had been hardened to stone with Sirius's death and Dumbledore's revelation of his destiny was beginning to crack and beat again, and Harry began to worry if he felt more than friendly or brotherly affection for Hermione, and if he was worthy of her affection, if she shared his feelings in any way. While it didn't serve to make him less introspective and quiet, it turned his focus from his feelings of anger and guilt over Sirius and the prophecy to something less dark and foreboding. When Hermione began to write about Dumbledore's obstinance to Harry visiting her, telling her that her home wasn't safe for Harry now that Voldemort had returned and been publically outted, Harry's mood turned darker.

For that matter, privet drive seemed a bit stranger. He knew there would be order guards around on occasion, perhaps all the time, but he could also tell there were others watching, though he didn't know who. He suspected Death Eaters, perhaps waiting for a chance to snatch him if he left the wards, though how they got his address was a mystery to him, until Hermione explained that they likely got it from the ministry, especially as his trial had been a matter of public record and his address had been recorded. Harry never caught sight of his Order guards, nor exactly where he was being watched from that seemed so much more sinister, but he never left the property, and consequently the blood wards.

The only other thing of note was a strange man who visited Petunia one day in early July. He had red hair, though not the shade of a Weasley, and a muscular build. Harry only caught a glimpse of him, but distinctly heard these words "don't care what you think, he's to stay here and that's final. If you don't' like it, talk to that freak who runs that freak school of his. I told you I never wanted to see you again when mother had you sent off to Military school across the pond, and I meant it. Now get out!"

As curious as Harry was as to the identity of the man, he didn't go downstairs nor ask his aunt. As his eyes followed the man leaving, the man turned and looked right at Harry through the window, and Harry saw something he thought he'd never see on anyone else; his eyes.

A week later, Harry had been sent to the market as one of his chores. It was the first time he would step off the property, and he was worried. He did not have that foreboding feeling of being watched by unfriendly eyes, however, so he agreed, took the money from Vernon (his aunt still would not speak to him directly), and promptly left.

As he walked to the nearest market, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. "Wotcher Harry, just where do you think you're going?" Harry instantly recognized the voice, and realizing Tonks was either disillusioned or underneath an invisibility cloak, quickly responded "The market. It's one of my chores today."

Tonks responded that she would follow discretely, and for him to make it as quick as possible and get back to the safety of #4. Harry did his shopping, paid, and quickly left with two bags of groceries, but as soon as he stepped out of the market, he felt unwelcome eyes upon him again and began to run. Taking a shortcut behind the market and through a small alley, he heard someone sprinting after him and ran faster. Up ahead, he saw Tonks fade out from her disillusionment spell and begin to raise her wand, but a red stunner flew out and struck her from the side. By the time Harry had reached her, three men in black cloaks had him surrounded, laughing.

"Well, looks like our prize finally decided to go out and spend some time with the rest of the world, then gets himself caught. Depending on a slip of a girl to protect you wasn't very smart. Our lord will be pleased."