A/N: The Harry Potter characters and world belong to Jk Rowling. I do not own any of the characters or ideas aside from the plot.

Warnings: This story disregards some of Book 6 and all of Book 7.

Chapter 1

The hot summer air was stale and unforgiving as Harry Potter made his way up the sidewalks of Privet Drive. He had been dying to get out of the Dursley's house this entire week. Aunt Marge had shown up again and, because of what happened when he was thirteen, he had been locked in his room all week.

It wasn't too bad being in his room alone. He had Hedwig and his trunk containing all of his wizarding wares. He was allowed to send letters, though only after dark, and he was actually given hot meals. They were scraps and left overs from the Dursleys meals, but they were hot none the less.

As Harry strolled down through the night air, he thought excitedly about the next morning. It was going to be his seventeenth birthday and he was going to escape this place. With the destruction of the horcruxes and the death of Voldemort, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to finish their final year at Hogwarts. They would finally be united with all of their friends and even have time to relax.

There was one thing that Harry was looking forward to above all else, he thought as the glint of red hair flashed through his mind and the memory of small, subtle scents of perfume. What would he say to her? Would she take him back after everything he had done to her? Harry thought to himself.

He arrived at the playground, his favorite place to be in Surrey. He liked coming here; watching the parents with their children, knowing all was safe and they could live a full and happy life together. It made him think of his parents. He thought about all of the stories Sirius had told him as he watched a blonde haired boy run past giggling as his father chased after him with the threats of a tickle battle. Those were the times that Harry wanted to think about. The picture of himself riding on his father's Broomstick forever implanted in his mind. The memories of his mother singing him lullabies, and sitting on the couch by the fireplace, as his dad put the star on the Christmas tree.

He was happy though. He could finally go on living his life, and bring his mother and father's memories closer and closer without so much hurt. The pain had somehow lessened since Voldemort was slain by his hand. It was as if a sort of redemption had occurred, and had wiped all of the fear, all of the hatred out of him. He still remembered that day…

Malfoy Mansion was in ruins, large holes blown out of the sides, broken windows, and the front gates blown completely off of their hinges. Screams filled the air and the ever present sounds of battle resonated throughout the house. Harry was running down the hallway, using the increasing pain in his head as a guide.

As he rounded a corner he saw a Death Eater raise his wand sending a curse flying in his direction. Instinctively, Harry dove out of the pass of the curse and sent a spell flying back at his foe. It hit him dead in the chest, binding him where he stood. Harry lifted himself off of the floor and continued running, trying to find the source of the evil that lingered in the stale air.

He ran up a flight of stairs, tripping over rocks and, to his horror, a small body. I cannot look now. I can't take my mind off of my goal. He thought to himself as he burst through two large oak doors.

Standing in front of him, on the opposite side of the room was the source of all of his hatred. It was the source of all of the evil that lurked in every crevice of this mansion. It was Voldemort.

"Harry Potter…" The words came slithering out of his mouth. "I've been waiting for you. Prepare to die!"