Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Heart's desire

Chapter 1

The area was quiet and desolate, but open. High winds whipping through the open space. The floor lit by the deceptive stars above. It was no secret place; no inaccessible hidden liar akin to the Chamber of Secrets, but it served the same purpose he wanted right now.

Solitude.

Holding the bars firmly but feet firmly planted on the stone floor, there was no intention to throw away what had somehow managed to survive against ridiculous odds once more.

He felt dirty.

He shouldn't be alive.

Looking down at the freshly healed scar on his right forearm, memories of how he got it flashed behind his eyes once again. Green light; Cedric; Voldemort's resurrection; fighting to stay alive; ghosts of his parents; fanfare in the quidditch pitch.

Grip tightening on the bars of the balcony, he ignored the consequential cutting pain; he deserved it.

Chivalry. Fair play. Ha! Look where that got me. Look where it got Cedric! It's my fault.

Instantly a voice of reason within his mind began, but he relentlessly fought against it with no intention of hearing her nagging once again. He was sick of fighting with her about this; he'd fled the common room not an hour ago to get away from her. With the map and cloak in his robes, they'd have to search the entire castle. And it was now after curfew, so not bloody likely to happen. Especially since the train was taking him back to that excuse of a family in the morning.

Hermione really needs to know when to back off.

Flashback

Within the Gryffindor dormitories well after curfew, Harry could feel fatigue setting in and decided it was time to give himself a break from practising a magic he hadn't touched all year. He'd seen the benefits of having an unsuspecting disguise and was determined to succeed. McGonagal sure as hell gave him a surprise in first year; and the revelations of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and their forms drove home just how useful such a skill was. No one knew what he was up to. Sirius was in hiding, Ron was a loose cannon with secrets, and Hermione would ram the laws about animagi down his throat, scolding him for not seeking help or daring to try in the first place.

Willing the feathers that were his hand to return to normal, he opened the drawn curtains and buried the book on animagus transformations deep within his trunk before settling back onto his bed. Despite the exhaustion, his mind was running a million kilometres an hour making Harry too restless to sleep.

Glancing at his now completely human hand, Harry sighed in disappointment; after discovering and copying the animagus text in the library after Sirius' escape last year he'd hoped at the time to have made decent progress by now. However, given the insanity of fourth year, Harry had to concede he'd been too busy trying to survive Hogwarts and its perils once again. He hadn't worked on it at all this year.

Giving up with the failure of sleep, he went down to the common room and seated himself in front of the fire, staring at it while deep in thought. A shuffle to his left caught his attention. Hermione was seated in one of the armchairs and looking at him expectedly.

"Hermione? What are you doing down here?"

"I knew you would be here eventually."

"So you stayed here all night?"

"You need to talk to someone, Harry. It isn't healthy to hide your problems," she began in a tone that always managed to get under his skin.

Harry fought the urge to give her an eye-roll. He'd been there and done this before; today, as a matter of fact. And every other day. A phrase that served as the catalyst to their friendship repeated itself in his head in Ron's voice. "She's a nightmare, honestly. No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

Self-disgust and guilt flooded his mind for having such a thought about someone that had been by his side every year. Especially when Ron was showing the traits of a glory hound after Harry's name was spat out of that infernal goblet. Ron's remark did have merit, though; Hermione barely spoke to the other Gryffindors, and more often than not was by his or Ron's side throughout the time they'd attended Hogwarts. Did she have others? Hopefully. She hasn't had it easy on the social front.

"Harry," she sympathetically murmured, resting a hand on his knee as she watched his expression. "Cedric's death was not your fault. Why do you still blame yourself? We've been through this."

He couldn't hold back the snort. "Yeah, I know. A million times," he replied irritably, pushing her hand onto her own knee.

"You can't bury your head in the sand and refuse to hear the truth, Harry. The only person at fault is Wormtail. He cast the killing curse, not you."

I really don't want to have a fight about this again. "Not now, Hermione."

She huffed beside him and turned to face him completely. "Yes now," she pushed. "The train home is tomorrow and hardly the place to discuss it. An empty common room at such a late hour is the best available to you. If you don't discuss it, you'll get it deeper into your head that Cedric died because of you while at the Dursleys. I know you. You blame yourself that Snuffles still has to hide. You did it last summer as well."

Harry had to admit that she was right about Sirius, he did feel a degree of guilt but not as much as she seemed convinced of. It was the Ministry's incompetence that Sirius had to hide. "You've been prying enough already, Hermione. Today, in fact, and every other day since the Third Task," he retorted in frustration. Alright, that was a bit low. Taking a breathe, he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Will you please give it a rest, Hermione? It isn't exactly great to be reminded of his death all the time."

His response only ruffled her feathers more, making Harry want to facepalm. She had that set look about her only hardened briefly before softening. "I push for a reason, Harry. Not because I'm a shallow gossip like Parvati and Lavender," she reasoned, seeming to be giving him a little space on the matter before proving him with a resolute look. "It's for your own good," the brightest witch of their age stated with conviction.

Something within him snapped. More and more people seemed to think they knew what he needed better than he did. He really tried to end it before things got ugly, but it looked as though she wasn't going to let it go. Rising to his feet, he glared. "Well guess what, Hermione. I'm pushing back, and the answer's 'No'. Accio cloak, Accio map!"

The witch jumped to her feet, but Harry snatched the map out of the air and stuck it into his jeans pocket. The cloak going into his robe pocket. "Where are you going?" she demanded, marching towards him to close the gap. "You can't avoid the truth forever. Let me help you."

Turning around without giving her a second glance, he took quick strides to the portrait hole. "Goodnight, Hermione," he replied tersely. Aware she would try to catch him, he threw the cloak on and left. Guilt welled within him for blowing up at her like that, with a tinge of regret. Sometimes she honestly knew how to push his buttons about these things.

Flashback end

"Great Harry Potter, sir."

Flinching in surprise, he turned around from the railing of the Astronomy Tower to see Dobby in the centre of the tower and released the breath he'd unknowingly held. "Dobby, what are you doing here?"

"To make sure you's are safe, sir."

Looking at the railing which he still held, Harry was fast to let go. "I wasn't about to-"

"Dobby knows that Great Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter is too noble, too brave. Dobby only wants Great Harry Potter sir to be safe," the house-elf sincerely explained, looking a little hurt when an involuntary scoff escaped Harry before he looked at the Scottish Highlands once more.

A fat lot of good that did. Safe. Yeah right, and Voldemort will turn himself in and leave me alone for once. He's constantly after me.

The wave of an epiphany made Harry grow stiff, before turning around to the misguided but pure-hearted elf. "He's constantly after me," the wizard muttered to himself, unnerved that he was clearly missing something.

"Great Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby questioned, snapping Harry out of his thoughts and the little creature's caring gaze almost undid Harry's composure. Dobby, not seeming to notice, toddled over to Harry's side and looked up in concern with his yellow tennis ball eyes.

"Why is he after me, Dobby?" Harry said more to himself than the elf as he sat on the floor.

At the touch of the little hand on his shoulder, Harry looked up tiredly. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is afraid of the Great Harry Potter, sir. And Dobby will do anything to protect Great Harry Potter sir, if Great Harry Potter sir wants Dobby."

Dobby wants to protect me? Well, that's nothing new.

Out of boredom, he decided to humor the elf by tiredly replying in third person. "Great Harry Potter does Dobby." For a moment, he felt alerted as though ice cold water pulsed from his middle but it was gone before he had long to think about it. "Why does he fear me more than others, Dobby? I was an infant. I am a teenager. Dumbledore is far wiser than I am. Why didn't they use a stronger person's blood that night?"

All of the mounting questions were giving him a headache that piled on top of his fatigued mind and nearly missed the answer. " – Potter, sir is special," the elf spoke solemnly with an undertone of joy

More half answers. "Will someone tell me the truth? Why am I special?!"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir. Dobby will always tell Master Great Harry Potter sir the truth, but Dobby does not know the answer to why. Bad Dobby! Bad! Bad, Dobby, failing master!"

"Dobby, stop!" His mind finally caught up to his hearing. Master?! Whipping his head to meet Dobby's eyes Harry narrowed his own. "Dobby…What did you do? Why are you calling me your master?"

The elf cowed under his sharp stare and backed away a step. Seeing Dobby's reaction made Harry feel awful; so he reined in his temper for the moment not wanting a friend to fear him. "Master Great Harry Potter sir is Dobby's new master. Dobby asked if Great Harry Potter sir wants Dobby; Master said Great Harry Potter does."

I've been tricked by a house-elf…Wait until Hermione gets wind of this…

Looking to the elf in confusion, Harry tilted his head. "Why Dobby? I thought you liked being free?"

"Dobby is weak with no master. Master Great Harry Potter sir is kind and a friend."

Too tired to fight this new development, Harry rested his head against the pillar and pinched his nose before feeling a yawn escape him again and closed his eyes. "Dobby…I'm too tired to walk or discuss this right now. And I'm not going back to Gryffindor Tower, I'm not arguing with Hermione about Cedric again. Will you make sure I don't catch a cold here?"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir. Dobby will protect his new master. Dobby will take Master Great Harry Potter sir to a safe place."

"Dobby?"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir?"

"I won't order you, Dobby. I never will, but don't call me 'Master Great Harry Potter sir'. Something shorter, please?" he muttered, hoping the elf would at least give him that small piece of mind. Five words for one name was too much.

"Dobby will, Master Harry Potter sir," the loyal elf amended as Harry was drifting off to sleep.

It'll have to do.

Waking up with the feeling of a mattress and pillow underneath him, Harry didn't dare stir until the fog on his mind lifted.

Fighting with Hermione.

Astronomy Tower.

Dobby.

Epiphany.

Dobby's new master.

Slowly opening his eyes he looked everywhere and found himself alone in an unfamiliar but welcoming room with its warm colours. Rising to his feet and seeing he was still wearing his school robes, albeit rumpled from being slept in, he took in the details as he wandered around. It had a Gryffindor-esque factor to it, but he knew for certain it wasn't the common room he'd spent a good part of the last four years in.

"Tempus." 6.00am

Strange. Shouldn't I be a fatigued wreck?

"Dobby."

The house elf appeared in front of him with a pop. "Master Harry Potter sir. What does master need?"

Looking around the room and trying to make sense of it, he gave up after a moment and seeing Dobby's anxiety. "Where are we?"

"The special room in Hogwarts, Harry Potter sir."

Relieved that he was still in Hogwarts and wouldn't miss the train, Harry nodded. "Could you bring me some breakfast from the kitchens please, Dobby?"

Dobby was all too happy to help. "Of course, Master Harry Potter sir," he replied and popped away again.

I'm going to have to get used to that. Dobby would be distraught if I freed him.

Sitting back down on the inviting couch, Harry took off his robe and focussed on his arm, watching as it grew the feathers again. Reverting back and trying again, he watched as it back a little more like a wing each time. Relieved that he'd retained the progress made over the summer Harry looked to his other arm and did the same; sprouting feathers and watching his left arm became a wing.

Driven by the success, he transformed them back, but one at a time out of fear of messing it up. Splitting his focus wasn't something he'd dared trying just yet and perhaps for a while. Might be best to have Sirius with me in case I mess it up.

Glad he hadn't lost what little progress he'd made during the summer, he took off his shoes and tried a limb he hadn't attempted yet. One at a time, just as he had done with his arms, he witnessed one leg recede in size but it didn't quite look right. A shrunken human leg instead of the avian leg he'd been aiming for. Feeling more than watching as his leg returned to normal, frustration welled within Harry, so he resisted the idea of trying further.

Tattered joggers on his feet once more, he finally paid attention to his surrounding and noticed that apart from the small differences and the absence of a Hermione waiting to grill him for staying out after curfew all night, anyone could have mistaken it for the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione. Cedric. Pettigrew. Pettigrew killed him. What I wouldn't give to make that coward pay.

The red and gold disappeared and were soon replaced with grey, the room becoming rectangular and bare. A familiar pattering sounded within the room and Harry immediately drew his wand before training his eyes on a rat running around the room.

The reaction was instinctive; he'd studied the spell persistently ever since that night in third year in hope of seeing the traitor and catching him, for Harry had never forgiven himself since the traitor's escape.

"Homorphus!"

How did Wormtail become an animagus when McGonagal said he wasn't very talented? She said it herself in The Three Broomsticks.

The spell struck and that fat rat grew into the man he'd developed a deep hatred for. Enraged by the reminder of what had transpired in the Riddle Manor graveyard, Harry unleashed a torrent of spells before the man could cast his own. Pettigrew didn't prove to be much of a challenge and was soon battered by Harry's anger; now a whimpering mass at his feet.

"Pl-please, Harry…don't kill me. Have mercy! Th that's not what your father-"

My parents would be alive if it wasn't for him! "Shut up, Wormtail! Stupify!"

The spell would have struck, however, Wormtail was replaced by an ornate device he hadn't seen since the first year of his magical life. Ducking the rebounding spell, Harry paid further attention to detail. This was either a good fake or the real thing. Encased in a golden frame the size of a broad doorframe was a mirror he'd long believed to have been destroyed.

Drawn to it by memories and knowledge of what he would see, all thoughts of revenge and hatred became unimportant and faded away. Taking cautious steps, Harry watched with bittersweet enthusiasm as two familiar people came into view.

Instead of eleven, he was fourteen in the mirror. His mother and father seemed to look a little older this time as well. Harry swallowed at the harsh reminder of what he'd been robbed of for so many years, and more years to come. The pain was more than he'd expected it to be. In first year he was glad to finally have a face to put to their names, but now in fourth year there were many experiences he couldn't share with them. And just like last time he saw his mother's hand on his reflection's shoulder attempting to sooth him, but feeling nothing on his own made the situation all the more real. And just like last time he couldn't resist the thought of reaching out with the hope that it wasn't an illusion.

It seemed to take a millennium, a tearing sensation in his torso where it had been cold last night, and several strangely necessary steps before finally touching the pane of glass drove the truth home as though he'd received a bludger to his stomach. Closing his eyes and backing away he fled the room.

Pushing the single door open, Harry took out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned with his wand against the parchment. From the sunlight peeking in through the windows, he skipped looking at the dungeons completely and searched until finding himself alone in a corridor on the seventh floor. "Mischief managed."

Stashing the map into his pocket and pulled out the cloak, he threw it over himself and ventured down towards the kitchens, practicing his arms once again as he slowly strode in the direction of the kitchens.

Where is Dobby anyway? House elves fall over themselves to please their masters. I guess Dobby is a strange one, and I am a strange master, I suppose.

Paying little attention to the presence of other students, Harry ceased the self-transfiguration and nimbly dodged bumping into anyone. After the row between Hermione and himself last night, and Ron's struggles to mediate, he wasn't really in the mood to see them. His trunk was packed, so was Ron's, thanks to the nagging from their bookworm friend. A bit of food and Hogsmeade station was all he needed to handle. "Tempus. 8.45? The train!"

Abandoning the intention of eating, Merlin knew he could deal with it, Harry spun on his heel and raced for the train. It was going to be tight since he was on the wrong side of the castle and needed to get to Hogsmeade before he was left behind. The sprint to Hogsmeade station had Harry utterly puffed by the end of it, but it thankfully paid off. He was relieved he had made it, irritating at least one prefect by his last minute dash onto the Hogwarts Express. Maybe they were Head Boy and Girl, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Settling in a compartment in the final carriage of the train, Harry remained undisturbed and it gave him time to reflect on his school years.

First year, in retrospect, had been a disaster. Sure, he made friends and enjoyed learning about this new magical haven from the Dursleys, but the fact that the Philosopher's Stone has been so accessible by three mere first years didn't sit right with him. Why hadn't it been in a high-security vault in the depths of Gringotts? The breached vault had been around the same security as his vault – which had little protections from thievery. Not to mention Quirrell. How Dumbledore didn't see through that garlic wreaking turban was beyond him. It's as if…No! He wouldn't do that, right?

Second year wasn't an invited problem like the Philosopher's Stone. It just wasn't well dealt with, and Defence Against the Dark Arts was a waste of time. Don't get me started on bloody Lockhart – anyone with a brain would have seen through that façade.

Third year, caused by a Ministry balls-up, but at least Professor Lupin had been decent. And finally having someone who cared about him on a paternal level.

Fourth year, Ministry trying to look good but exploited by Voldemort and Wormtail, 'Professor Moody' did the job well but was out for his blood. Crouch Jr got the kiss. Cedric dead. Voldemort alive. What a bloody mess.

Ron and his damn jealousy. When is he going to grip the fact we're from two financially different families? It's been four years. I saw the way he frowned at my gear when he thought I wasn't looking, even after the First Task.

Hermione on the other hand, while helpful for the Tournament, saw fit to sticky-beak into every facet of my life; Dursleys included. Not a single letter from Sirius without her needing to know the content, I get few enough of them as it is. I don't go asking about her letters. Then the Third Task and she's a complete nag about my nightmares and needing to seek help or talk to her all the time. What am I? A mystery to solve? A project to get an O on?

Disturbed by the fact he was having these thoughts about his two and only friends, Harry locked the door with Colloportus and transfigured the windows to an opaque white. I need to think…

When the train finally slowed to a halt, Harry reversed the spells but stayed back until the station was at least half empty. Ever since he uttered the words 'Voldemort's back', he'd been subjected to whispers behind his back once again. Not a foreign concept, that's for sure. The parseltongue experience had taught him to ignore gossips, but not the accusation of being a liar. He could have sworn he saw his friends leaving the station without a backward glance and honestly didn't know what to make of it. Ron could hold a grudge, but for Hermione to not seek him out was just plain odd.

Searching the train for his trunk had been something else, though. Dudley stealing from him was one thing, but stealing by witches or wizards in control of their bodies was a new one. After half an hour, the silence of 9¾ was making his edgy. Harry alone while Voldemort was on the loose, not a good combination.

Good grief, Harry. Are you a wizard or not?

Drawing his wand, Harry got off the train and spun around. "Accio trunk!"

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered before trying again. The results were the same. "This is ridiculous," he grumbled to himself. "I better check the other side. The Dursleys would have presumed me dead and left for all they care." Leaving the platform with a quick gait, he halted just before going through the pillar. Taking out his invisibility cloak and keeping his wand handy, he went through and was both shocked and not shocked by the result.

No Dursleys.

Going back onto the platform and did the only thing he could think of at this point aside from walking the streets alone because he had no money for the Knight Bus. "Dobby!"

The little creature he'd befriended appeared immediately, but something didn't seem right. Dobby was confused, to say the least. Well, he responded right? Might as well ask for his help.

"Could you take me to Diagon Alley please?"

The elf said nothing but extended a hand out just the same, and within moments the strange pair was in the centre of the wizard shopping district.

"Dobby? You're normally happy to see me. What's wrong?"

"Who summoned, Dobby?"

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. "You don't remember me?"

The elf shook his head with strong resolve, effectively flapping his batty ears and drawing the attention of a few in the crowd. "Yous that Potter boy."

"Could you not tell anyone you helped me?" he requested politely, not taking any chances. The confused elf nodded without taking his eyes off Harry. "Well…thank you for your help," Harry spoke awkwardly, running through ideas of what to do next in the insane situation. It was only when Dobby gasped that Harry realised there was going to be unwanted drama. "Dobby! Don't cry. Please!" Looking around desperately, he saw their conversation was making a noticed commotion.

"Thank Dobby?! No one ever thanks Dobby!" the elf wailed into his dirty pillowcase.

Internally groaning, the wizard prayed this would be over soon. "Dobby, shush. Be quiet," Harry asserted, hating the fact he had to. Thankfully the little creature blew into his pillowcase and said nothing else. "Go."

The elf nodded and disappeared with a pop.

Harry made for the Leaky Cauldron and could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Currently, his mind had been blown more times than desirable and didn't know what the hell was going on and needed information before making his next move. Eyes were following his every move, he could tell but ignored it just the same. In retrospect, he was thankful that Dudley and the gang gave him grief in school. If you want to hide, don't make it obvious you're trying to.

Once within the pub, he released a breath and forced himself to relax or risk suspicion from the regulars. Going over to one of the tables, the young wizard sat himself down and wait at least a minute before reaching for the Daily Prophet dismissively.

Surprisingly there wasn't any slander as he'd expected on the front page. Instead, there were warnings about various magical creatures and how to escape them, but that wasn't all. Reading the article carefully, he noticed the writer's voice wasn't the same sensationalised rubbish he was used to. The phrasing sounded like it was old news. Bothered by it, he went through the rest of the normally upbeat newspaper, but the results weren't much different. The classifieds had ads for warding services and all kinds of protection from one thing or another.

This wasn't the newspaper he knew.

Looks like I'm going to the Dursleys again. Great.

What needs doing?

Get some money. Preferably get a new key.

Clothes for blending in.

Send a letter for help.

Wait a bit.

Check the Dursleys.

It was tempting to continue in his attempt to get some sort of bearings, but if money was a problem step two would never fly. Leaving the pub and opening the archway for Diagon Alley. Harry, unnerved by all of the oddities, didn't dawdle making his way to the pristine white building up ahead. Many things weren't adding up and he needed money before he could plan to do anything. Little Whinging was quite a trek from London and with all of the apparent creatures on the loose he didn't want to take too many risks unless necessary. He didn't need to feel the twinging of his newest scar to remind him that Voldemort was out there and after him.

Entering the doors of Gringotts bank, he lined up for the next teller. He had no key on him, but obtaining a new one needed an inheritance test. Having no idea how much it would cost, probably a few knuts or a sickle, Harry left the bank. If there was nothing for him to claim at the bank then he'd be in trouble with the goblins for not being able to pay the fee. If there was one thing that Binns taught him in all his years of monotone rambling it was this; you don't want to mess with a goblin.

Sighing in frustration at this new predicament, he seated himself at a table outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and watched the shoppers. If he wasn't already toeing the line with underage magic with the Ministry, summoning a little money to cover that inheritance fee would have been an option, as wrong as it would be to do so. He'd happily tell the Ministry where to stick their faulty Trace sensors if it wouldn't risk getting his wand snapped. Having a wand would be essential no matter where he was and he didn't have a good track record with the Ministry at the moment. Running a hand through his hair he had to muffle a groan.

Great. I'm basically stranded here.

Leaning back in the seat, Harry raked his brain for ideas coming up with some but disposing of them for one reason or another.

Knight Bus? No money.

Muggle orphanage? No, not protected from Voldemort etc in the muggle world.

Letter? No, no money you idiot. And who would you write to? No one's contacted me. Something's up.

Pickpocket to pay the inheritance test? Tempting, but if I screw up I'll get arrested. Bad outcome.

Work for board? Why would Tom want a fourteen-year-old waiting on his customers? He's got staff already.

Dumbledore? Has he forgotten me just like Dobby? Ok, a contingency then.

Floo to the Ministry?

"Maybe..," he murmured to himself, shivering a little but brushing it off. "What will I do when I get there? Fudge isn't exactly a friend right now."

There's got to be a law department right? Police help lost kids out. What's the equivalent? Ron said it at the welcoming feast. Or was it Dean or Seamus? Gah, who cares? Dark wizard catcher? The term you idiot, not a description.

"Aw, Merlin…"

Hang on. Aw, War, Ror. Auror!

Relieved to at least know the term, Harry rose from the seat and strode back to the Leaky Cauldron. Feeling exposed as the alley was beginning to fall quiet in the early hours of the evening, he soon re-entered the pub but didn't give pause until he was at the fireplace. Taking a handful of the powder and throwing it into the fire without hesitation he strode into the fire and uttered "Ministry of Magic."

The nauseating experience was brief and within moments he was leaning against the nearest column, fingers against his temples before realising he was standing up with no ash on his shirt. "Huh, toss powder in then walk in. I'll keep that in mind."

The sight before him was grand with a clear interest in impressing the visitors. It looked almost endless with fireplace after fireplace in two lines as far as the eye could see, a tiled floor for the whole area, a golden statue of a wizard being stared a with adoration by a centaur, goblin and house elf. Going over to a booth with an utterly bored witch, Harry caught sight of a sign telling him what to do. "Good afternoon, I'd like to check in?" he spoke in question, hoping to have done it right as he handed over his wand, feeling naked for a moment until she took it off a device and returned it.

"Have a good visit, Mr Potter," she replied in monotone before looking at a crossword.

Not sure what to do next, he hesitated but bit the hex. "Excuse me, could you direct me to the Auror department?"

The blonde looked up with a confused expression. "I don't see why you'd need me to Mr Potter, but I'll humour you. Go to the elevators, press two for Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you'll find it easily enough. Anything else, Potter?"

Surprised by the apparent ease he was spoken to with, Harry blinked and nodded. "That's it. Thanks for the help." The woman nodded and went back to her crossword. As he wandered over to the elevators Harry thought about the manner she'd spoken and helped out and it seemed rather odd. Shouldn't the Minister hate my guts right now, and by extension the ministry? Hmm, not necessarily, Mr Weasley doesn't take me for a liar. But then again, he's my best mate's dad. So would it count?

Aware he was going to earn himself a headache, he counted to twenty in his head and focussed. He's in the ministry now, on the way to the desired floor - as jarring as it was, and probably next to no one there.

If the place is empty I guess I could snoop around. I'd kill to pinch an apple right now.

Upon exiting the elevator the sight before him was anything but desolate. It was a hive of activity. Witches and wizards in various uniforms were moving from cubicles to offices, bearing paperwork, some were leaving via a fireplace near the elevator.

The liveliness of the department mentally threw Harry off balance and he almost got knocked over by a witch dashing for the fireplace. Banking on the department being silent hadn't paid off in the slightest.

Oh shit, Mr Weasley's desk then. Now where is that?

Staying on the fringes of the office under his cloak, Harry eventually found himself Mr Weasley's and happily dropped into the vacant seat in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. Burying his cloak within his robe, he was a prime exhibition of stress. Grabbing a piece of parchment and wetting a quill, he wrote down what he knew.

Trunk stolen; vault key included.

No Hedwig.

No money.

No communication.

No Dursleys. (Not surprising)

Dobby's forgotten me but obeys me.

Ron and Hermione left the platform without a glance.

Ministry receptionist was polite. Not disdain etc.

Dangerous creatures on the loose.

Need a safe place.

Grabbing a new piece, he set the first parchment aside and wet the quill again.

Hogwarts – Closed for break

4 Privet Drive – No means of travel

He was about to write 'The Burrow', but if everything so far since leaving Hogwarts held true, then the Weasley home he'd come to love wasn't an option. That would then apply to Privet Drive too in the worst case scenario. Apart from being captured by Voldemort or arrested for some atrocity, I don't know how this can get worse.

Looking back at the second list, he came to a realisation and made an adjustment.

4 Privet Drive – XNo means of travelX – Dobby apparating

Putting down the quill, and leaning back with a sigh of relief, Harry grabbed both pieces of parchment, slipped on the cloak and strode out of the DMLE with his dreaded childhood home in mind.

As he made for the fireplaces in the atrium of the ministry, Harry couldn't throw the feeling that he was being followed. Lightening his footsteps on the tiled floor and straining to hear any clue, everything he tried was coming up empty. There was no evidence someone was behind him but with magic you couldn't solely rely on your senses to know the truth.

There was a lot of temptation to quicken his pace. However, to do so would only give himself away. But to who? Harry didn't have a clue aside from suspecting a Death Eater, making his right hand twitch in anticipation of an attack. Keeping himself in check and slipping his hand around his wand within his jeans pocket, the young wizard maintained his 'got something to do but not urgent' pace and flooed to The Leaky Cauldron. Making for the exit to Charing Cross Road, Harry stepped outside and threw on his cloak and waited within the Notice-Me-Not charmed perimeter for his tail.

Noting the taxis driving past, Harry acted on impulse by ripping off his cloak, stepped out of the magic concealing The Leaky Cauldron and hailed an approaching one. "Taxi!"

A driver pulled onto the shoulder of the road and gestured for him to get in. Needing no second hint, Harry got in and made sure his cloak was within easy reach for later. "Where to, lad?"

Without preamble, he rattled off the address. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," he instructed, looking out the window while making sure his gripped wand was concealed under the cloak. "Can we go?"

That earned him a look, but he could feel the taxi pull away from the magical pub and for that he was glad. "Not in a spot of trouble, are you?" the driver remarked before focussing on the road once more.

"Does a stalker count?" he replied, beginning to relax as The Leaky Cauldron left his sight.

The driver gave a hearty laugh. "Girlfriend didn't like the breakup, eh?"

That scenario for a cover story hadn't occurred to him but it sounded good. "Yeah, she doesn't take no for an answer apparently," he replied, the row with Hermione still fresh on his mind.

The middle-aged man chuckled and accelerated. "Righto, I'll get you home quick. Name's Ed, by the way."

And that was the last thing the driver said before humming to music on the radio. Glad for the peace, Harry looked down at his lap where his cloak rested and frowned with a little guilt. It was necessary and he didn't really have a choice at the moment; elf apparation would have been a way to get to Privet Drive but there was one small problem. A forgetful Dobby was unlikely to remember where he lived. And honestly, having roughly an hour to think about his next plan was a nice breather from the 'seat-of-his-pants' planning done so far.

In retrospect, even if he had access to the money necessary for booking a room at The Leaky Cauldron it would have been less than strategic. Too much exposure to the public eye. This made him straighten up a little; one less place to stay. And if Privet Drive doesn't work he'd need somewhere else to go. Hogwarts should be an option if all else fails, but he didn't want to turn up like a lost puppy without having some facts about this weird situation to work with. He'd made a lot of plans on the fly in the past and it normally worked, but something this extensive needed more than mediocre thinking about.

For the same reason, booking a room at The Three Broomsticks was out of the question, but Hogsmeade was closer to Hogwarts, and by extension Dumbledore. Harry didn't know how tight Hogwarts security was over the break but he imagined that if he absolutely had to, there should be a few ways in. Honeydukes cellar had been useful in third year; The Shrieking Shack probably had a way in, and its tunnel led to the grounds of Hogwarts.

That thing is probably in a right state, but it's got a bed, four walls, a roof, and Hogwarts' wards are a stone's throw away. And I'm not going to turn my nose up at that.

Now that he had a contingency plan if all went pear-shaped at Privet Drive, he could breathe easier and think beyond where he would hide from Voldemort, such as gathering information when you're dead broke. Dobby would know where Hogsmeade was and he could make his way to the Shack from there. If something failed there, then he could bolt to Hogwarts and Hagrid's hut was close to the Whomping Willow if he needed help getting into the castle.

A shriek pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he was quick to recognise the park where the commotion had come from. "Excuse me, sir? Could you pull over?" he requested, discreetly pulling the cloak onto his back.

The taxi came to a stop on the corner of Magnolia Cresent. "Sure, son," Ed began as Harry slipped the cloak on. Without looking back, he fled. "That'll be- Oi, get back here!"

Sorry, Ed.

Dashing into the alleyway, watching as the driver looked around trying to find him and throwing his hat on the ground in frustration, Harry let out a breath when the taxi pulled away. Taking off the cloak and walking through the alleyway to the local park, he stuffed his hands into his pockets moodily as he wondered what he was going to say to Aunt Petunia. 'Hi, Aunt Petunia, have you forgotten me too?'

Snorting at the thought and shaking his head, the lone wizard reached the park and a scene that wasn't really a surprise to him. It was an expected really. Not far away was his whale of a cousin and his four buddies picking on a teen a year younger than him, who'd dared to stay out in Dudley's 'territory' after dark. That just made his blood boil, but putting a lid on it Harry snuck up on their flank. "Five against one? Very brave of you, Duddikins, my dear cousin," he pointed out, startling the hell out of the whale.

The group looked surprised at his intrusion, but Harry waltzed up to Dudley, snatched the considerable wad of money out of his hand and gave it back to the girl. It seemed like a lot for one person though and probably wasn't all hers. "Get out of here. It'll get ugly."

"Thank you," she uttered softly, and without hesitation bolted out of the park but strangely lingered at the mouth of the alleyway.

Dudley and his gang looked gobsmacked at Harry's gall, making him smirk. "Shut that gob of yours, Dudley, or you'll swallow flies," he pointed out, but keeping himself between the five boys and the alleyway in case he needed it.

"Who're you, short-arse?"

Bollocks.

"Your first cousin on the freak side of the family. Harry. Any bells ringing, Dudley?" he remarked, stressing the clue about magic. As much as he loathed his cousin, Harry was hoping for something, anything, that was familiar while the rest of the world was upside down.

The whale backed away a half step and chose to stare at him. "Who?" he spoke in confusion with an increasingly clear scowl. "You're from their lot," he remarked irritably, clear restraining himself from instigating something he believed he couldn't win. Dudley's glare, however, lacked familiarity so Harry took his cue to leave and didn't waste time, soon catching up with that girl by the alleyway. Harry still had the Trace and couldn't fight despite the illusion he'd given that despicable whale.

At least he knows about magic, but he doesn't seem to remember me. Interesting. But now what?

"Thank you, Harry," the thirteen-year-old gratefully spoke out of the blue, startling Harry enough that he jumped away instinctively and almost drew his wand, which he gripped within his jeans pocket. "You're so jumpy," she commented with an undertone of interest. "Almost lost looking even."

Keeping his guard up, he nodded. "Uh yeah, um?"

"Jennifer," she provided, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "So why are you lost?"

Harry was quiet for a moment and Jennifer looked as though she was about to apologise when he gave the first lie he could think of that was convincing. "I was kicked out of home." Probably would have been years ago if it hadn't been for Dumbledore. Why'd he want me there anyway? While he had lied it wasn't as though they'd let him in. If his childhood tormentor had no memory, Harry highly doubted Aunt Petunia would remember the nephew she loathed either.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," she sympathised before resting a hand on his shoulder, the physical contact made him flinch out of habit, which led to Jennifer's grimace before she removed her hand. "I see. Things weren't right there, were they?"

"It never was," he mumbled, looking over at the raven-haired girl who was starting to look cold. As they exited the alleyway, Harry kept an eye out for Ed and his taxi, but to his relief, the driver wasn't in sight. "It was a hate-hate relationship no matter how you looked at it. All three of them really. I thought my name was 'Freak' until I was five and told differently at primary school."

The conversation died out after that, and Jennifer was looking thoughtful as they walked in silence. Dismissing the idea of conversation for the moment Harry was gladly focussing on his surroundings. If the creature article in the Daily Prophet had any grain of truth in it, lingering outside at late hours wasn't the smartest thing to do right now.

Following the year-younger girl for a while, since he had nothing better to do, Harry noticed she'd slowed and was standing outside one of the many duplicated houses. Backing away and turning to leave, he faltered when he heard Jennifer's nearing footsteps on the grass. "Wait." Half turning back, he noticed she was mustering herself up to say something. "Do you need somewhere to stay for a while?" Raising his eyebrow at the suggestion, he watched as Jennifer stammered for a moment. "U-until you're back on your feet, of course."

"What of your parents?" Harry pointed out, trying to weigh the pros and cons quickly before she withdrew the offer. "I don't think they'd want a run-away guy like me in the same house as you. No offense."

"None taken. Dad's overseas for work, so you don't have to worry about him. My mother, she works two jobs and probably wouldn't notice if you're quiet," she explained, unlocking the door and gesturing for him to come in. "Besides, only a creep would come in without hesitation." Obliging her, he copied her behaviour within the house until they were seated in a vacant living room. "What's with the…robe? Is it a uniform?" she inquired, eyes on the Gryffindor patch. "And…it's summer."

Blast. Truth with lies in a cauldron, I guess.

"Yeah," he confirmed, fiddling with the mascot. "I go to a Scottish boarding school, so we need the layers up there. Break started not long ago and we go back September 1st." Not bad, Harry. That was the truth.

Jennifer looked mildly relieved at that, before noticing he'd seen the expression and becoming guilty. "I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay," he interrupted, hand up to stop her. "I get it. Indebted to someone you just discovered is homeless. Feeling obliged to help, but don't know what you can do. A sense of responsibility to some degree," he elaborated, earning a weird look from the muggle girl.

"Pretty much," she nodded, looking at her lap in shame. "You're perceptive for a boy. Most at my school can be pretty oblivious," she remarked as she got up and wandered into the kitchen. A moment later she whipped around with her eyes wide. "I'm sorry –" she began to apologise before Harry's chuckled cut her off. "How can you laugh and be so calm around me after getting kicked out?" Jennifer asked with an expression of disbelief. "I'd be completely losing it right now." The muggle continued gathering food and piling it near the stove.

Before he could say anything his stomach made its emptiness known, embarrassing Harry in the process.

"Table for two," Jennifer chimed in jest, chuckling at Harry's blush. "At least I can help you with that," she remarked more to herself than Harry as she retrieved doubles for everything. "But seriously, how can you be keeping your cool about all this?"

Getting up from the couch, he joined her at the kitchen and proceeded to put his decent culinary skills to use. "In all honesty, you're the only thing making sense to me right now. Nothing odd happening like everything else." That earnt him a confused glance but he didn't let it stop him. "My only family kicked me out and pretends they don't remember me; my stuff and bank card were stolen on the train home; I've got a lunatic intent on killing me every year at school; a headmaster I don't know if I can trust right now; My friends left the station as though I don't exist, and they live in Crawley and Devon, so nowhere near here."

Reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze in sympathy. "Stay," she asserted, giving a stern look when he made to protest. "I mean it, Harry. I'd say Dudley Dursley is more likely to be an axe murderer than you are. Hell, you stood up for me for no reason when the odds were against you," Jennifer ranted while shaking her head and putting the meat on the grill. "How you got away without a scratch is a mystery, but the point is that if my home is the only thing keeping you sane then you're more than welcome to stay for a bit."

Looking to the determined girl, Harry nodded without saying a word and turned his focus onto their meal until it was ready. Mindlessly plating the food and handing a serving to the muggle. Following her lead, the pair ate at the table and Harry was thankful that she wasn't forcing him to speak, unlike someone he knew.

Now that he had a temporary roof over his head, he was intent on making the most of it. Summoning Dobby in front of Jennifer was out of the question for obvious reasons; he had no plan of breaking the Statute of Secrecy and earning a heavy fine he couldn't pay.

Aside from listening to Jennifer chatter about her day, and being shown the upstairs layout, Harry said very little while he mind was raging a silent storm of being freaked out. Running to Dumbledore was getting increasingly tempting, and he probably would have long before now if it hadn't been for him verbally making the admission of distrust regarding the man to Jennifer. Saying it made the issue seem just that bit more real, and he didn't like it one bit.

After a shower and putting his own clothes back on, despite Jennifer's insistence of putting something clean on, Harry thanked the girl for her hospitality and sat within the privacy of the guest room needing to gather his racing thoughts.

The night dragged on and the anticipated sounds of a vehicle implying the return of Jennifer's mother never came. Exiting his room, Harry followed the light coming from the living room to find Jennifer sketching on the couch and looked up at his approach. "Harry? I thought you went to bed," she commented, putting her pad aside and picking up a familiar pouch. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have this. And it's way more than just mine too. Half is yours by conquest or whatever," she gestured, a humoured expression at his readiness to object. "So I was thinking, if you will let someone else be chivalrous, we could go to London and hang out tomorrow."

Chivalrous.

Will I get her killed too?

The muggle girl quickly adopted a look of concern. "Harry? What's the matter?"

Putting space between them by sitting on the couch she'd vacated, he looked up. "Someone good di-suffered because I was bloody chivalrous at school. He was an innocent."

Jennifer seemed to know he wanted a bit of room and remained where she was. "The lunatic, right?"

"Yeah, the lunatic," he replied with a humourless laugh. "If I hadn't insisted on fair play in a tournament Cedric would still be alive." Noticing his slip, his eyes shot up to Jennifer who wasn't surprised but nodded solemnly. "The lunatic, Tom Riddle, rigged the game to make sure I won, but after Cedric helped with a task I wanted to share the win. We'd helped each other during the tournament."

Harry could tell Jennifer was internally arguing with herself but remained standing where she was. "Did you make this Tom kill him, Harry?"

"No but-," he began, faltering when he realised she had a point but right now his mind didn't want to accept it.

"Survivor's guilt," she uttered softly from the other side of the room. "'What if?' 'I could have.' 'No, but'," Jennifer spoke as she sat on the floor. "They all drive people crazy unless that someone is ready to look back and remember what happened objectively." The muggle girl rose to her feet and hovered near the end of the couch. "If you ever want to tell me…," she hesitated, looking a little unsure of herself. "I, um, I will listen."

The house went awkwardly silent after that and after nodding in thanks he returned to his room while she continued scratching away at her pad on the couch. Walking into the room and sitting at the desk Harry decided to try putting a plan into motion. "Dobby," he whispered intently and a moment later witnessed the elf's appearance.

"Potter boy, summoned Dobby?" the beaten looking elf asked, keeping his eyes on the floor.

It didn't escape Harry's notice that the elf was looking a little worse for wear. "What happened?" he murmured, before getting an idea. "Is your master Nott?"

Head shake

"Avery?"

Another one.

"Crabbe?"

Nope.

"Goyle?"

Another head shake.

"Macnair?"

Dread was beginning to fill him as Harry one by one rattled off all of the Slytherin families he knew, refraining from suggesting the Malfoys if his gut instinct was right. Soon enough there was no one left but the Malfoys. "Alright, Dobby," Harry said to the beaten elf softly. "If you can do it without having to punish yourself, could you please repair the Shrieking Shack? I want to hide there as soon as possible, but don't neglect your master to do it. I don't want to see you with ironed hands again, alright?"

"Potter boy is truly kind," Dobby replied, reminding Harry out how Dobby used to act around him. "Anything else, Potter boy?"

"Call me, Harry," he suggested on an impulse. "And why do you respond to me saying your name? Don't you belong to someone else?"

"Dobby hears Harry Potter call so Dobby must answer, Harry Potter," Dobby spoke before disappearing with a pop.

Harry nostalgically smiled. Same old, Dobby.

"What was that?"

Snapping his head up and looking at the door where Jennifer stood looking thoughtful, Harry gaped in shock that the whole thing must have been heard. "Jennifer, please. Let me explain!" he begged hurriedly but slowed when she sat on the bed in a cross-legged and expectant manner.

Blast. I have to tell her the truth now. Not like she would be believed anyway.

"There's a reason my relatives called me a freak," Harry started slowly, not wanting to scare her off with the more outlandish parts first. "There is another society within the one you know. One that defies the laws of physics. Every piece of fantasy fiction you've probably read would have a grain of truth to it."

"You're telling me there's a magical community hidden within England?" she guessed in bewilderment, eyes going wide when he nodded. "Teleportation, broomsticks, potions…dragons?" she finished with an undertone of worry, making him chuckle.

"There are reserves for dragons. Everyone would know about us if there weren't. Imagine the chaos they'd cause if they were loose?" he clarified rhetorically, hiding a smile at her sigh of relief. Moving onto more serious matters Harry scooted the wheeled chair towards the bed. "And I'd really appreciate it if you told no one. It's against the law to tell non-magical people about our world if they're not relatives. The Statute of Secrecy is what has kept us safe from those like puritans all these years."

"Can you show me something?"

The request made Harry caught him off guard. He wasn't prepared nor had the means to show. Diagon Alley was a world of wonder when Hagrid took me there. But can she keep a secret? Bracing himself, he took a breath and slowly blinked. "I can't perform magic with my wand outside of school until I'm seventeen. The Ministry will snap it if I do."

"Oh…Can you do anything without it?"

"Not yet, I'm working on self-transformation but I can't do it completely yet," he apologised, guilt-ridden for having nothing to show for it. Biting his lip when two things came to mind, he threw caution to the wind. "Do you swear to not share anything magic related to anybody?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "You sure do take this seriously, don't you? And, Harry, who would believe me anyway?"

"Alright, alright. My world has been tipped on its head in the last twenty-four hours. Give me a break," he retorted, tipping his head back for a minute.

The muggle teen rocked on the bed and laughed. "Someone would think you've been plucked out of your world and shoved into another with the way you're acting," Jennifer suggested offhandedly, rolling on the bed in giggles.

Harry grew still at the offhanded remark and paled. "What?" It would make so much sense, but the idea was frightening. Shocking. No number of Voldemort encounters could have prepared him for the idea of it. It wasn't the 'fight for your life' kind of thing he was so used to but something completely different. Is she right? Is she wrong? I don't know what to think anymore!

Sitting upright, Jennifer got her laughter under control as she witnessed the colour leave his face. "I was joking, Harry. You know…Everything different to the way you know it?" she commented before shrugging. "What about shops? Can you show me a shopping district?"

"Never ever joke about that, Jennifer," he firmly told her. "Yes there's magic, but somethings are taking it too far. Threatening to turn someone into a…ferret is fine, though." A hint of a wistful smile crept onto his face before shaking his head and focussing on the conversation at hand.

Jennifer had the decency to look apologetic but started to smirk. "Did you see someone turned into a ferret?" she asked, making him crack a smile, prompting her to fall into a bout of uncontrolled laughter. "Who?"

Leaning back and picturing it, he regaled the entire thing to the muggle. "- so, of course, the first thing coming out of his mouth after McGonagal reversed the spell was-." Clearing his throat he did his best Malfoy impression. "My father will hear about this!" he mimicked, having fun recounting the whole thing. Jennifer was in peals of laughter by this point, and the wizard chuckled at the sight, gladly escaping the crazy world waiting for him outside Jennifer's front door.

Watching the girl regain control, Harry realised how exhausted he was and made it over to the bed. "Oh boy," the muggle chuckled, getting off the bed. "If I didn't know he was such a pompous git, I'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy. More stories tomorrow, yeah?" Jennifer asked as she stood in the doorway.

Harry nodded eagerly, feeling a wave of relief that tomorrow would have an element of normal. Even if it was just a muggle girl. "Oh yeah, definitely. Thanks for everything, Jennifer."

"No problem. And it's Jen," she dismissed as though it was nothing. "God, I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight. Or should I be saying 'Merlin'? Good night, Harry," Jennifer remarked good-naturedly, closing the door behind her.

"'Night Jen," he replied before succumbing to fatigue.