Disclaimer: Note, I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, nor have I written the series, you know, just in case you thought that. 'Cause I'm such a great writer, it's an easy mistake to make. It's all good, no harm done. You're forgiven.

Chapter 1:

"Harry, I'm off to the grocery store. Mind starting the dishwasher while I'm gone?" Ginny called, standing in the doorway.

"Sure thing." There was probably some spell for dishwashing, but Arthur had put them into some experiment about a wholly muggle life, just for a couple months. But that wasn't important at the moment, what was important was that he had a whole hour with the new computer. Yes! A whole hour with just himself, the computer, and that chamomile tea he'd made. Gosh that stuff was addicting. Now that he thought about it, it was a bit depressing his biggest adventure now was surfing the internet; his daily routine had certainly changed. As much as he loved his new suburban life, well… ever since Al had gotten into Slytherin and started a new cult of Death Eaters, things had gone downhill.

What should he search? He could always see what the muggles were saying about himself, though it probably wouldn't be much. With the internet booming wizards had been clamoring for their own search engine, a search engine that no normal person could ever navigate or find any of their muggle websites on. This resulted in Bing. It never hurt to check on the buzz though, maybe some wizard had made a slipup and posted on the great Harry Potter…

Ten minutes of scrolling later, he felt stunned. What was all this? Who was the J. K. Rowling person? A site came up, "Harry Potter FanFiction Archive." FanFiction? Did he have fans in the muggle world now? A few clicks more and his mouth dropped open.

"Ron, get Hermione. You two have to come here. Now."

...

"Blimey Harry, what's going on?" But Harry was beyond words, all he could do was point and shake his head at that wretched website. Hermione, her ever inquisitive self, was already scanning the computer screen. Her reaction was only comparable to the time she'd caught Ron eating her diet bars in desperation. Actually, her reaction was much worse than that, but again, it was the only thing even slightly comparable. "Hermione?" A look a worry crept onto his face.

As Ron walked to the computer, Harry managed to break his silence, for the sake of his friend. "Ron, don't look!" It was too late. Ron's face was making interesting shifts in color, first paling, then paling some more, then reddening, then turning blotchy, like clouds on a sunset sky. Not that Ron's mood at the time was anywhere close to the tranquility of a sunset, as Harry could tell from those characteristic splotches, only reserved for the worst of times. Times like when he'd found Hugo training cockroaches to do his bidding so – well, that was another story.

"Harry, they said… no, oh blimey, look at this one – oh, that's not even the worst! They hate me… Oh geez, I can't even find words for this atrocity of human decency. You know what, no. No. We're all going to pretend this never happened, because this was only the work of sick, twisted minds –"

"Harry! You haven't even started the dishwasher yet, and I took an hour and a half! What's Ron's cloak doing here anyway? I thought he was at the-" She stopped as she entered the room, looking at three petrified figures, all of their faces solemn with shock. "What a pleasant surprise!" Ginny said in a voice that indicated otherwise. "What are you two doing here? What's that you've got on the computer? I hope you don't become one of those computer obsessed people Harry, because I've heard that it's-" Her words ended when she glanced at the site. In a low, angry whisper she said, "Who did this?" She shook Harry's shoulders, yelling, "Who would make this? Why?"

"Life will go on Ginny. Let's just pretend it never existed-"

"Pretend it never existed? When I can never get those horrifying visuals out of my head? How do these muggles even know about you, and them, and all of this?" she said, gesturing wildly.

"We can never forget. But we can pretend. What's for dinner?"

...

The awkward quiet that was laid on the dinner table never seemed to be eaten by anyone. How would they move forward from this? If only Harry hadn't looked himself up…

To add insult to injury, after Ron and Hermione had left, Harry found another note from Hogwarts threatening expulsion for Al. A wave of familiar guilt washed over him. If only Harry hadn't told Al that advice that one day by the King's Cross, he might not have decided to go to Slytherin and fall in with the wrong crowd. Only swelling the irony that his son was practically the new Voldemort more, Al had also become friends with, guess who, Scorpio Malfoy. As much as Harry supported Al's choice to go to Slytherin, he couldn't support trips to the Malfoy's house. The less he had to interact with Draco, the better.

What was Al up to now? He was torturing some poor muggle-born first year Gryffindor students. At first, Harry knew from Al's confessions to him, that it was the peer pressure from his fellow Slytherin student who already berated him enough for being a Potter that caused his trouble. Those confessions stopped though, when Al got to his teenage rebellion years, the teenage rebellion that Harry suspected was the cause of Al's second flood of bad behavior at school. But now… it wasn't clear what Al's motives were anymore. There was a lurking suspicion in the back of Harry's mind that Al was actually beginning to believe in what he was doing, but no, that couldn't be it. After all, this was the son of the Boy Who Lived, a symbol of the end of Voldemort, not a new beginning of him. Well, making his son's middle name that of the death eater who'd pretty much killed Harry's parents may not have been a great idea, but hey, Severus ended up being good, right?

Picking on first years, that was just low. Harry could hardly believe his own son was doing it, and when he'd first starting receiving these letters he'd been incredulous. It was routine now. Five years of Hogwarts under Headmaster Flitwick, incidentally the first headmaster with a spattering of goblin ancestry, hadn't changed him a bit. No matter how Harry lectured him, no matter what Harry discussed with Al's professors, nothing ever seemed to make a difference in how Al acted. To make things worse, there was no one Harry could talk to, no one to vent at. Ginny never wanted to hear what the latest event was with her son, it only made her sad, and Harry didn't like seeing that. Ron was willing to listen, but it didn't do much good since he never actually listened to anything Harry said. Hermione listened, but if Harry vented with her it'd mean he'd have to hear her talk about her own prodigy children. Not nice Hermione, not nice. The Chosen One racked his brain, what could he do? A brilliant idea crawled into his head, a dangerous one. Where was a good, safe place to vent about his troubles with Al? It would be a good place to practice for that novel he'd promised his agent anyway, why not go for it? Sidling over to that new computer, he pressed that fateful, white lettered button, "sign up."

Thanks for reading!