A/N This is my first fanfiction. I have read a ton before and I really want to try one. All the characters and early story line belongs to the talented JK Rowling. Please instructive critics only! :)

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named KILLED

We at the Daily Prophet are happy to announce that, finally, the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is over. Only two days ago, a battle sprung out at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. But who was the one to end You-Know-Who's terror? No one other than the Chosen One himself, Harry Potter! After being on the run for six months, along with his two accomplices Ronald Billius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger, Potter returned to Hogwarts in search of something. That something has not been revealed to the press. "Harry Potter will not answer any questions that he doesn't want announced to the public", says the Order of the Pheonix leader, Kingsley Shacklebolt. His words are not lies either. Harry James Potter has not answered any questions from any reporters. Yet he has made one statement, "Voldemort is gone. Isn't that all that matters?" Our answer is in some ways yes, but many want to know the facts on what Potter and others did during the time on the run.

As for the Battle of Hogwarts, there have been over 1,000 casualties and many more injuries. The castle of the school has almost been destroyed completely. Auror investigators are right now overseeing the damage and are assigning volunteers to rebuild the castle as we report. Few of those volunteers being the Golden Trio themselves, Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger, and Ronald Billius Weasley. Our Gratitude goes to all witches and wizards who fought during the battle and we hope for a better tomorrow! More reports soon.

Harry smirked as he read the article. For once something sensible reported by the Daily Prophet he thought to himself. Yes, he finally killed Voldemort yet why was everyone giving him all the credit. In all honesty, he didn't want any credit. He wanted killing Voldemort to be the first step to normality. Yet it wasn't going to be. He was going to live his life now not being known as just The Boy Who Lived or The Chosen One. Now when people see him on the street, he now was going to be The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, The Boy Who Lived Twice and any other stupid title they could put together. He was glad that they were acknowledging Hermione and Ron, but what about Neville, or Snape, or Dumbledore? What about the Order of the Pheonix? What about the Weasleys? The Weasleys. The name rang in his head. The family who took him in as one of their own, the family who showed him love, the family he caused so much pain. He couldn't help but feel guilty. They trusted him and in return he caused one of their sons, brothers, friends to die. Last time he talked to any one of them was after the battle. And it was Ron. Just a mere "see you later."

Yet there he sat in 12 Grimmauld Place wallowing away in guilt. He already received four owls for him, inviting him to join them for dinners. But he couldn't face them. He couldn't look across the table to see an empty chair for Fred, or see the look in their eyes as they see only five Weasley boys at the table. No. He just threw the letters in the fireplace, or crumpled them up before throwing them away. Yet the Weasleys weren't the only people he was avoiding. He couldn't look at Hermione anymore. And she was considered his sister. Family. Not including the four letters from the Weasleys, he had even more from Hermione. More than one going like this.

Dear Harry,

Please read this letter with some sort of composure. You have not spoken to any of us since you left Hogwarts. We can't help but worry. Harry please, whenever you can, just talk to us. None of us blame you, none of us are mad at you, for the most part. I say this because every hour you don't reply, Ginny can't help but grow angrier. She still loves you. She still wants you to call her your own. Actually she wants to call you her own. Harry please, come to the Burrow. If you feel so guilty about everything and you want to make it up. Then do us this one favor and just show us that your there, healthy, happy and alive.

Please write back,

Hermione

Harry scanned through and shook his head. No. Not in a million years will he just waltz into the Burrow and act happy in front of them. Like Umbridge scarred his hand with. HE WASN'T GOING TO TELL LIES. Many times, Harry took out a piece of parchment and a quill to write a reply saying why he couldn't. But every time he tried one word would be written and one word only. Sorry. That one word meant so many things. Sorry about Fred, sorry I can't come, sorry I can't face you, sorry for leaving you Ginny.

"Master Harry." Kreacher entered the study and interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes Kreacher?" Harry looked up from the desk filled with letters and newspapers.

"There is a girl at the door, wanting to know of Master Harry's whereabouts."

"What's her name?" Harry asked with more annoyance than interest.

"Kreacher believes that the girl is called Hermione."

"Tell her I'm asleep and need some rest."

"Kreacher will do as Master Harry wishes." And with that Kreacher left the study. Harry got up from his desk and closed the door behind Kreacher. With whatever happens he was not going to let Hermione find him. He locked the door and returned to his desk hoping that Hermione will take his excuse and leave.

"Kreacher has returned with news for ." Kreacher said as he walked toward Hermione.

"Where is he?" Hermione replied hoping he was going to approach her any second now.

"Master Harry is not feeling well. Master Harry is sleeping right now."

"As much as I doubt that's true. I'll accept it. Just tell him that I need to speak with him please?"

"Yes ." Kreacher opened the door for her and with that she left. Easier than expected.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He had to leave this house soon. Then he came up with an idea on how to ease his pain.