Harry couldn't say for certain when it started.

Well that was a lie. It started back when his relatives were relocating from the house on Privet Drive. Dudley must have left it behind. The scratched plastic cover and sticky buttons didn't attract Harry whatsoever. He didn't even know why he picked it up. Maybe it was because he had been denied ever even holding one throughout his childhood, constantly watching in envy as his cousin's watery blue eyes stared unmoving onto the little LED screen. Nonetheless, Harry pocketed the Game Boy without a word. Surely Dudley wouldn't miss it. Infact, Harry was sure that Dudley had a spare packed away with his things somewhere.

It was only a few days after Voldemort was finally gone when Harry remembered he took it. One day as he was moving around Sirius' room in Grimmauld Place, he kicked away his soiled clothes, never having bothered to get clean them through his post war haze, when the little gray square tumbled out of the folds.

The game system was small in his rough, barely healing hands. It was nearly a perfect square as the bottom stuck out a bit. Harry played around with it for a while, discovering the bottom part actually unattached to the rest of the system. When extracted, Harry couldn't help but snort at the image stuck to the plastic bit. A strange fat man with a giant pink nose and wonky looking mustache greeted him; his gloved hand forming a 'W' proudly in front of a snow globe.

'Wario Land 3'

It took another day or two for Harry to finally turn the blasted thing on. The magic in Grimmauld Place would have screwed with the piece of technology if Harry had tried turning it on there. But even as he journeyed into muggle London with the Game Boy, Harry found that the game either was broken already or he really was rubbish at technology.

Couldn't very well blame him, though, being as this was the first real electronic he had ever owned.

One stop at a Electronic store and a rather bemused employee later, Harry sat dutifully at a sandwich shop with a glowing Game Boy screen connected to a wall outlet beside him.

It took some time, but after a few hours of button mashing and amused giggles, Harry was able to complete the game to its entirety. All levels completed and treasures found. He was halfway into playing through a second time when an irritated cough sounded behind him.

Turns out you should order more than a plate of chips if you planned on sticking around this particular shop for more than an hour or two.

With a guilty grin, Harry collected his game and recently purchased charger and all but ran back to the electronics store. There the employee from before happily showed him a whole display full of the little plastic cartridges similar to the game he already owned. Looking through the rows and rows of games, Harry noticed that some of the games came in different shapes. Most of them were a lot smaller than his own Wario one. The employee then explained to him, in a rather putout and confused matter, that his Game Boy was actually an older model.

Harry, making a split decision there that would ultimately change the course of his life, told the nice man helping him to put aside one of each console with a few of their most popular games for him. He came back with pocket full of cash a few hours later.

In the weeks following the final battle of Hogwarts, Harry had seemingly disappeared from the face of earth. His sudden disappearance created both worry and fear to stretch all around the Wizarding World as many believed that the Potter heir had been killed by rogue Death Eaters. Hermione and the Weasley's were questioned mercilessly on Harry's whereabouts but none gave him up. All believing that after all the bullshit he's gone through, Harry deserved the break he found, no matter how… unconventional it was.

Harry in the midst of the Wizarding World's struggle to locate him was having a grand time. Living on his own in a London flat. Surrounded by empty crisp bags, soda cans, and wires, the teen was happy. And for once in his life, Harry could say he was truly content with his life.

No evil Wizards to fight or corrupt government to rebuff, just a princess who who needs saving in the other castle.

And beyond all the first person shooter, the RPGs, and platformers, the little fat man with the wonky mustache was still his favorite of the bunch.

A year had passed with little trouble. The ministry had doubled their efforts in locating him which spurred Hermione's mother like tendencies into action. So while Harry sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of his apartment, dutifully tapping away on his red nintendo DS, Hermione ran around packing away all of his belongings in a mad rush. She was relocating him herself as Harry refused to acknowledge the fact that there were people who were looking to further exploit him and they already tracked down his general whereabouts.

"Harry, we have to go now," he remembered Hermione whisper to him vaguely. He had ignored her. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he even looked her in the eyes. Harry couldn't find it in himself to do it though; look at her, that is.

Harry hardly remembered the how busy the airport was or how terrible the food on the plane tasted. He couldn't recall the taxi ride to his new apartment or even where he was living anymore. His entire focus lay upon the tiny screen.

Hermione stayed with him for a while. She was always talking. Her voice was the only constant sound around him that didn't include pixilated gibberish or synthesized beeps. She made sure he ate and bathed properly; she even slept in the same room as him to ensure he would actually try and get some rest. Hermione kept him alive when he couldn't find himself to do so.

Sleeping after the final battle was the hardest. His nightmares increased tenfold. At times, when he woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, throat hoarse from screaming, Harry would forget where he was. Hermione had to wrestle his wand away from him more than once. Luckily she was a rather light-sleeper as she always had her own wand ready incase he managed to mouth a spell.

Hermione would always ask him about his dream but he remained silent. It was like clockwork now. Wake up, play, eat, play, eat, play, shower, sleep, nightmare, play. His games were his only outlet.

Clockwork until one day Hermione decided it was time she returned to England. Without Harry.

She prepped him, made sure he understood where she was going, how to reach her if needed. She even asked the neighbors next door to keep an eye out for him. A nice young couple who recently moved in together. Hermione hadn't needed to ask twice as the girls were more than willing to lend a hand. One of them, Hannah or something like that, even mentioned having a younger sibling that reminded her of Harry. She said she had all kinds of experience tending to kids with developmental issues.

"Your brother really does love those games, huh?"

They thought he and Hermione were siblings. His eyes flashed towards the frizzy haired young woman for a second before looking back at his game.

"I'm just glad he prefers the non-violent types, honestly."

She hadn't denied it. Harry watched passively as the character on the screen was attacked by grinning ghost, his fingers still for once in over a year. His chest felt warm, heart tight, and mouth impeccably dry as Hermione gave him one last hug and kiss good-bye.

"I'll be back as soon as I'm done dealing with the incompetent fools we call the ministry. Stay safe, Harry. I love you."

Harry wanted to return the hug. He wanted nothing else but to talk to Hermione. To let her know he loved her too and that he couldn't ask for a better sister. But she was already out the door before he had the chance to open his mouth.

Hermione called every four hours, in which she asked him the same questions over and over again until Hannah took pity on Harry and answered for him. Besides Hannah and Mari visiting him in his apartment randomly during the day to check up on him, Harry was, for the most part, alone. Though not completely. He had funky mustache guy and the others to keep him company.

But today, however, Harry felt… bored. He played through every game in his library, twice. He wanted to play something new. The walls seemed like they were enclosing around him; the corners of the room gradually growing darker. Harry felt trapped, like he couldn't breath. He didn't want to be in the apartment anymore.

Harry paced around the cluttered living room; His sock clad feet stepping over empty game cases as he did so. At times the teen would pick something up and consider it for a moment before carefully setting it down on the coffee table. It was long before a tower of staggering cases sat in the middle of the living room, one breath away from falling over.

The door almost seemed to glow, indicating in Harry's mind that that was correct direction for his quest. The quest being to find something else to play, and quick. With his new objective in mind, Harry ran around his home, preparing himself for the journey. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his wallet, washed his hands, and pocketed his keys, Nintendo DS, and gameboy (Dudley's) before running out the door; Not bothering to lock up or even put on a pair of sneakers.

Harry walked around the city for who knows how long. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind relished in the sights and sounds of New York City; The bustling crowd and constant chatter reminded him of Diagon Alley. It was bitter sweet. No one paid much mind to him as he trudged through the streets, following the crowds. There were a few confused glances at his lack of formal footwear but no one stopped him.

The streets were damp due to the light rain they had received earlier. The water had quickly managed to soak his socks and the bottoms of Harry's pants. The teen paid the slight discomfort no mind as he glanced around, his head spinning in every direction quickly. There was so much to see but Harry couldn't care less. He only had one goal in mind and that was to find a Gamestop or something of the like. He wanted to go home already. All the people bumping into him was grating on his nerves.

"Hey, you!" Someone called from closely behind him though the teen paid them no mind. I wasn't likely they were talking to him. "Erm, Harry Potter?" Harry stopped suddenly. So they were calling him. The domino effect was almost instant as the people walking behind him crashed into his back and sent him and several others crashing to the floor.

There was a few loud curses, mostly directed towards him, as the people on top of him scurried up and away. Harry groaned pitifully as he sat up once the last person finally gathered themselves. Using his elbows to prop himself up on the wet sidewalk, Harry glanced around his surroundings before his eyes settled on a large, tanned hand.

Harry stared at the appendage for a long moment before glancing at the person it was connected to. The man in question was gigantic, no doubt about it. He had that cookie cutter, American look; Big blonde with blue eyes. He would have made even Lockhart feel self conscious. Dressed to the 'T' in slacks and even a tucked shirt, as though he had just come back from a dinner meeting the parents. Strangely enough, the man reminded Harry of a Christmas add on a magazine. So perfectly placed and well put together that made the teen question if a group of professionals hand made the man in machine.

The hand in Harry's face wavered as time passed though he made no indication to retract it. In fact, the man stood stock still, as though waiting for Harry to make the first move. Finally, feeling rather awkward now, Harry slowly grabbed the man's large hand with his his own.

The black haired teen gave a startled gasp as the other managed to pull him up with little to no effort. Harry quickly retracted his hand towards his chest as the other looked at him with a sheepish expression.

"I forget my own strength sometimes. I am so sorry about that!" He said, his voice toned with guilt. "I— You dropped your wallet and I was trying to get your attention for the last three blocks, son." Harry glanced down at the man's other hands where he clutched the leather wallet in his hand securely. It must have fallen out when someone had knocked into him.

"Damn, you're soaked! And where are your shoes, kid? It's freezing out!" Harry paid the man's question no mind as he reached for his money. He was still on a mission. "Oh right, sorry," The man apologized again as he handed Harry his wallet. Harry nodded in return and was just about to walk away a almost shy voice stopped him.

"Wait!" Christmas man called. "At least let me treat you to something warm since it was my fault you fell into that puddle. Look, there's a cafe right around this corner. Dry up a little in the warmth and maybe call your parents or something." Harry cringed a little at the thought of calling someone. He couldn't remember Hannah's number and calling Hermione was certainly out of the question. Though the idea of getting somewhere warm did appeal to Harry tremendously so with that in mind, Harry nodded at Christmas in approval.

"Not much of a talker are you?" Chris, shortened for Christmas, asked as he placed two steaming styrofoam cups on the table in front of Harry. The man had already asked him several questions, mostly about his shoes or lack of thereof, but was met with silence after everyone.

Something about Chris drew Harry in. It wasn't the beaming smile or mild mannered attitude. Not the clean cut hair or clothes. It definitely wasn't for the cup of coco either. He just seemed so familiar.

The tense shoulders, shadowed eyes, and fidgeting fingers. The facade Chris put up was all fake. Behind the blinding smile and perfect blue eyes hid a cold exterior. A sad one that Harry saw in the mirror everyday. Chris was hurting and he did a damned good job of hiding it. So as the man continued blabbering about proper footwear, Harry reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out the old grey Nintendo.

"What's that?" Chris asked but Harry paid him no mind as he launched the game. The chime Harry long looked for comfort in echoed across the tiny cafe as Harry stood from his seat across from Chris. He then pulled out the seat right next to the huge man and sat down cautiously, as though asking the other male if the action was alright.

Harry gave a small smile as the screen changed to the oh so familiar opening of the funky mustache man in yellow and carefully passed the electronic Chris who sat quietly beside him.

"Press 'A' to jump and 'B' to attack," Harry said, his voice extremely rough from his prolonged silence. "If you collect all the treasures in the level you can unlock a hidden mini game. Use those keys to open the chests. The colored coins are worth more than the yellow ones so look out for those too...—"

Killing Voldemort after all those years of fear of suffering changed him. He wasn't the Harry everyone had known and he could feel the disappointment coming off the people he loved in waves. He was broken but in these games, these pixelated people and creatures didn't know Harry as the 'Boy-who-lived'. He was Player 1, Cloud, Link, and Wario. He didn't have to be Harry when he played. This was Harry's distraction and if it helped him, it could surely help others like him as well.