Disclaimer: All people and places within this story are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1 : Private Drive

Harry couldn't hide the sneer of distaste as he stepped off the Knight Bus and onto the curb in front of Number 4, Private Drive. The house was lit up warmly in the night, and the sounds of the television drifted through the open windows. Dragging his trunk behind him, Harry trudged across the perfectly manicured lawn, making sure to mess up the grass, just to be perverse.

He rang the bell and waited for someone to answer. Petunia swung open the door with a schooled look of pleasant surprise, which turned to a scowl when she saw Harry.

"Oh. It's you," She said, stepping aside to let him in.

"Nice to see you too," Harry responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"How long are you planning on staying?" Petunia grilled him as Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. A couple of weeks maybe. A couple of days, hopefully." He answered.

"We're not a hotel you know," she snapped in defense of his scorn.

"Trust me," Harry looked his aunt in the eye. "This time when I leave, I won't be back."

He shut the door to his room firmly and sighed as he sank onto the bed. Hedwig cooed softly from the window sill. Harry pried off the screen and let her into the room. He propped his trunk open at the foot of his bed, and didn't bother to unpack. He didn't know how long he needed to stay. He hoped to God he didn't have to be here until his birthday.

Harry sipped bitter black coffee, and tried to clear the cobwebs of a sleepless night from his mind. It was early, only seven-thirty. He heard shuffling upstairs and steeled himself for the tension of the day. He'd been here a week now. A long, long week. For the most part Harry avoided his relatives, spending most of him time in his room. The chasm between Harry and the Dursleys had grown wider and deeper over the past year.

"What are you doing?" Petunia surprised him coming into the kitchen. She looked surprised herself. She pulled her bathrobe tighter around her shoulders as she stood in the doorway.

"I made coffee," Harry said, gesturing towards the pot. He turned back to the window, staring blankly at the cloudy sky. Petunia bustled around the kitchen, pulling down mugs and pouring herself a cup. Harry listened to her rattle around in the fridge, and almost didn't realizes the noise had stopped.

He turned around to find his aunt staring at him intently. "Why do you hate me so much?" Harry asked straight out. "You didn't have to keep me."

Petunia looked taken aback by his question. "You…" her brow wrinkled in frustration. "I kept you because it was my duty. And because I didn't want that man to come looking for you, and when you weren't here, take it out on us."

"Man? Who?" Harry set his mug down firmly.

"Dumbledore." She said his name like it was a filthy word. "All I ever wanted was a normal life. That's it! That shouldn't be too much to ask for. And then you come along."

"Well excuse me for being born," Harry said coldly. "But it's not my fault." They glared at each other angrily for a minute. But the festering emotional boil had been pierced. There was no going back now. "Than why do you hate my mother so much? Or is it just because she was different?"

"It wasn't fair!" Petunia hissed. "I was never good enough. Lily was always the best, the prettiest, the favorite. And then one day she wakes up and has magic! She always got everything, and I got the scraps. I got her cast offs. Like you." Her last two words echoed in the kitchen like gun shots. "Everyone loved Lily, clever Lily, beautiful Lily, popular Lily. She was the center of attention, and I got ignored. I hate her for that."

"Well, I'm sorry for that. But life isn't fair.." Harry started, but Petunia wasn't finished.

"Why her! What made her so special. Why was she chosen? Why not me? Why couldn't I be the one? The one with all the friends, all the love? The one with magic powers? The one with the handsome, rich husband? The one who can do whatever she wants and it all turns out rosy!

"I was the practical one. I married a man who worked to earn what we have. I didn't run off across the planet, fighting wars and getting myself blown up." Petunia was practically foaming at the mouth. She had been stewing on this for a while. "And I kept you to remind me of that. Every day, I saw you and it reminded me of why I made the choices that I did." Harry stood there, dumbstruck. "And you're just like them," she finished. "And I would prefer, when you get yourself blown up, that you are far away from here. Go live with your professor. Let him protect you. Just get the hell out of my house."

"He's dead," Harry said hollowly. An odd look crossed over Petunia's face. She didn't say anything, just took her mug and walked out of the room.

That afternoon Ron and Hermione came for him. The three sat in the backyard under the tree, and Dudley tried to spy from the kitchen. They brainstormed, plotted, made plans like castles in the sky. Each more fantastic than the last. Names and dates changed, but the core was always the same – find the Horcruxes, defeat Voldemort, torture Snape, save the wizarding world. How was the question.

They knew where they were starting though. Gordic's Hollow was the first stop on the list. Harry didn't think they would find anything there, but he wanted to see the place, where his parents lived and died. To visit their graves. Next was Grimmauld Place. It was the Black stronghold, one of the darkest families in history. Harry didn't know what to expect there either, but it was his and he supposed he should look it over anyway.

Harry packed his trunk and dragged it down the stairs. Ron and Hermione waited in the open doorway. The Dursleys sat tensly in the living room. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking at them. He felt he should say something. They had taken him in after all. And then he remembered Petunia's hateful words.

He picked up his trunk and walked out the door. There was no goodbye.