Prologue:

The Boy Returns

The street was crowded, full of people dressed in the latest European fashion that had swept through the old streets of London. Despite it nearing record temperatures that summer, no one seemed to bothered by it- opting instead for thinner, lighter, less clothing. Even serious office workers, had lost ties and suites in favor of unbuttoning their light dress shirts.

Through the hustle and bustle, no one noticed a man slip from a shadowed alleyway and join the cue, his hands trust deep into light washed gray jeans. Only a few curious glances were cast his way- and most were directed at his light blazer he wore. If anyone had cared to examine him closely, they would have noticed that he wasn't sweating despite the heat, and that his eyes, partially hidden behind round wire rim glasses, darted from face to face, memorizing in seconds. They would have noticed that a light, dry, breeze caused his fringe to be swept aside for a brief moment, showing the curiously shaped scar on his forehead.

But in this world, Harry Potter was unknown, merely another face in the sea of faces that traversed the streets daily. None of the muggles surrounding him had any idea of what he had done five years previously. None of them knew that because of him, they were able to walk blissfully unaware how close they had come to discovering magic, and ultimately their own end.

Musing of that, Harry Potter let a soft smile curl his lips for a brief moment, before he schooled his features back into a blank nonchalant expression. He would prefer if even the Wizarding World did not know of him, it would have certainly made his whole life much, much, much easier. But luck when it came to publicity had never been on his side, not even after Rita Skeeter had been removed from the Daily Prophet staff. Soon, the public would know of his return to the Wizarding World, though if he could help it, it wouldn't be for at least another month. What was one month more to the 60 he'd already spent in hiding?

Walking down another street, Harry found himself nearing his goal. The buildings slowly began to change, from those that marked the shopping districts, to those of the residential. When finally both sides of the street were crammed with high rising apartments, did he stop, and consult his watch. Battered, worn, and obviously gone through a lot of use, Harry had kept the watch Molly Weasley had given him for his seventeenth birthday years previously. The watch had been one of the few things he'd kept on himself when he'd taken to traveling the world after the war. Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy black hair, and started toward a slightly smaller apartment than those around. At half past one, he'd have a few hours to get settled in and plan what he was going to say to his two best friends. When he'd left Germany earlier that morning, he really hadn't any clue on what he was doing- other than the fact that it was high time he returned to England.

Relishing the fact that the lobby was cool and breezy, he nodded to the half asleep youthful doorman. Though he couldn't be much younger than Harry's own twenty-two, Harry viewed him as a child. It was a small fact that he'd come out with from the aftermath of the war. He'd been forced to grow up much quicker than most, thanks to the Dursleys', Dumbledore, and Voldemort. All those who had been alive during the war, especially those who were active, had grown too quickly, in order to survive in a world that was literally going to kill them. He wondered briefly what would have happened if Voldemort had never risen again- if he had never even existed. What would Harry's life be like then?

Shrugging off the thoughts, he opted to go up the stairs, rather than stand in the ancient lift and risk it getting stuck. Up five flights of stairs, Harry reached the right floor, and went along, searching for number 139. He came across it rather quickly, surprising himself. He'd counted on wandering the hallways for a while longer. Lifting a hand, Harry traced the nameplate which read "Weasley – Granger". Even though the two had been married for almost two years now, Hermione had felt it in herself to keep her muggle last name, something that Molly had sniffed at and Ron had smiled endearingly at. Though Harry wasn't suppose to know- for he "hadn't been present" despite the fact it was one of the most important moments in their lives. No he hadn't been present as Harry Potter, but he had been there, there was no way he was missing it. He had sat in the back of the church as "Edward Evans", a charming tall wizard who always had a broad smile fixed on his rather youthful face. When asked, "Edward" had introduced himself as a Ministry worker, who knew Hermione as a brief acquaintance, and had attended school with them, though as a Ravenclaw and their junior. He had felt a stab of disappointment at seeing Dean Thomas standing next to Ron as his best man, and had felt guilty in not stopping his so-called-hermit-ways for just the one time Ron needed Harry, but… well the Daily Prophet reporters with their flashing cameras had really set him off.

Now, years later, he stood in front of their apartment, wondering what their reactions would be. He knew, from his secret correspondence with Kingsley Shaklebolt, Kretcher and Ginny, the location of the house, and if need be, Kretcher was still under his ownership, so the elf would let him in. From just touching the door, he could feel Hermione's spell work, feel all the protective charms she'd laid in on top of the Ministry ones. Even Ron's magical signature was there, much lighter than Hermione's. As he reached for the handle, the spells fought against his magic, but with a slight push and a firm shake of his head to clear the buzzing of magic battling, he opened the door, melting through all the magic, and entering the apartment. He'd have to have a go at the protective spells himself, they really weren't up to snuff.

"Mistress? Are you being home already-" Kretcher's voice cut off abruptly as he poked his head out of a door down the hall. His eyes widened comically at the sight of Harry standing on the threshold still holding the door handle.

"MASTER!" With a squeal and surprising speed for such an old elf, Kretcher buried his head into Harry's knees, nearly knocking him off balance if he didn't have a grip on the door. "Kretcher is so surprised! Master Harry didn't say, Kretcher doesn't know... Kretcher hasn't gotten anything ready!" Kretcher pulled back, his eyes still larger than normal, so that they looked like they were going to swallow his head.

"Kretcher, I order you to calm down." Harry sighed, forgetting how…eccentric the elf had become. Still, not as bad as Dobby. Kretcher instantly took deep breaths, stumbling back to allow Harry access into the apartment.

"Mistress and Master are not home yet, is Master Harry going to wait this time?" Harry's lips twitched in another hidden smile. He'd nearly forgotten his other time visiting the newly wed's old apartment, where he'd come to check in on Kretcher. He'd sworn Kretcher not to tell before disappearing back again. That time, Harry thought, I think I went back to Canada.

He followed Kretcher into the kitchen, where the house elf happily croaked about anything and everything, informing Harry that Teddy – at that Harry felt a stab of remorse, he was no better than Sirius, avoiding his godson without a valid reason; he resolved to become a better godfather – and Rose – the Weasley-Granger child – where with Ginny on a day out sightseeing London. He sipped at a cup of tea, listening half heartedly to Kretcher and lost in his own memories.

As the clock drew nearer to five and Kretcher began to prepair dinner for the arrival of Ron and Hermione, Harry began to get nervous. What was he going to say? "Hey, sorry I left you letters and haven't talked to you in five years. I'm back now?" He snorted into his third cup of tea. Even to his mind's ears it sounded ridiculous. Before he could really decide to back out, he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone emerging from the floo. A second later another roar, and bickering ensued.

"I told you again and again, Ronald, but unless you have a warrant, I am not giving you any paperwork, husband or not."

"Herm, please, it takes too much time, please...?"

"No." The voices neared the kitchen, and Harry stood, trusting his hands in his pockets, and then a second later realizing that might look threatening so removed them. Kretcher was watching the doorway with large eyes again, every few seconds glancing back at Harry with rapidly growing excitement.

"I don't believe you, Hermione. Hmmm… smells good, Kretcher!" Ron was the first to walk into the kitchen, licking his lips. "Shepherd's Pie?" he asked hopefully, heading toward the refrigerator. Hermione walked in, her expression irritated. Harry felt a rush of relief, they looked the same – yes Ron had matured and no longer looked so gawky, and really when had Hermione become so beautiful? Must have had to do with motherhood.

Hermione's eyes fell on Kretcher's half excited- half frightened look. A tiny frown crossed her face and she slowly looked around, at the same time Ron turned around from the fridge, holding two bottles of butterbeer. There was a crash and the next thing Harry knew he was ducking from two blazing red lights.

"NOOOO, Mistress, Master, you do not go hurting Master Harry! Master Harry!" Kretcher sounded like he might have a heart attack at any moment. Harry carefully poked his head up over the table, noticing that both Hermione and Ron had their wands out and were pointing at were Harry had been a moment ago. He knew Ron had become an Auror in his absence, but he had no idea Hermione had gotten so quick with her spell work. Sure she had been always good, but not that good.

"Um… hullo?" He said, watching as both wands swung to focus on him. His magic fizzed up, he could feel it bubbling under his skin, itching to be used, released. Closing his eyes and forcefully shoving it back at his core with a muted "not now", Harry stood, keeping his hands out where they could see them. "Sorry to barge in on you without warning."

Hermione let out a choked sound. "H-harry?" He nodded, really unsure what to do. Ron was still staring at him with a frozen expression. Hermione gasped and moved to walk forward, but Ron moved quicker blocking her view.

"The first time we met on the train, in our first year, who did you get first on your chocolate frog card?" Harry blinked, stunned at Ron's words. He found it rather endearing, yet exasperating. Did Auror training really make the best of mates paranoid against each other?

"Dumbledore, it was Dumbledore." Ron froze, his grim expression fading.

"Blimey… Harry…." There was a tense moment where the four of them stood frozen, and then Hermione hurried to his side and seized him in a massive hug.

"Oh Harry, Harry, Harry," she kept murmuring into his shoulder, where he could feel the cloth getting wetter and wetter. He awkwardly patted her on the back, watching as Ron moved to the fridge, this time turning around with three fire whiskeys, having swapped the butterbeers.

Dinner was a silent affair. Hermione was staring at Harry with a shocked expression, Ron still wouldn't look at Harry for more than a few minutes, and Harry was content to let it all go, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach. When the last of the food had been cleared away, Ron spoke in a detached, hallow sort of tone.

"So… you're back now huh?"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, looking furious.

"Yeah. I'm back." Hermione swung to look at Harry looking hurt. He and Ron both ignored her, glaring at each other from across the table.

"So you think you can just come back? Just walk right back into our lives, eh? Think we'd be happy to accept you back? Is that what you thought? Not a bloody letter in five bloody fucking years, and suddenly you are back? And how the bloody hell did you get in here?" he shot a nasty look at Kretcher who shook his head violently.

"Ron…." Hermione pleaded, looking fearful.

"Shut it!" Ron was on his feet looking livid. "I want answers, now, Potter!" Out of all the things Ron had done, that had hurt the most. Harry closed his eyes briefly, once again feeling his magic flare, reacting to the anger Ron was practically spewing out of every pore. "You don't write, you don't even come to our bloody wedding, or the birth of Rose! You don't even say goodbye? What. The. Fuck?"

"I was at the wedding." Harrry leaned back in his chair, pushing it back onto two legs. He surveyed Ron cautiously, ignoring Hermione's silent crying. Another Harry would be yelling back at Ron, another Harry would be a bit more concerned about Hermione.

"Stop lying, I know you weren't there!" Ron snarled, his fists clenching.

"I was there. Remember Edward Evans? No, I didn't think so. He tried to keep out of the limelight." Ron looked bewildered, casting a quick look at Hermione. He frowned, torn between comforting her and yelling some more at Harry. He compromised by moving to stand behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She took one of his hands, squeezing, trying to get him to stop.

"Edward Evans? No I don't remember him, but what does he have to do with you not being there?" he spat.

Harry sighed, reaching for his glass of fire whiskey. "Simple, I was him."

There was silence after his words. Then-

"You… Polyjuice Potion? Fuck, Harry, why didn't you say something?" So he was back to being Harry was he?

"No, not Polyjuice Potion. I simple was him." Ron looked utterly confused, but Hermione gasped, her free hand going to cover her mouth.

"Glamours," she whispered, stating it like a question. Harry smiled sadly at her.

"In away, simple glamours would have melted at the level of security you had at that place." Harry glanced at his watch, noting the time was almost nine. He hoped they'd be able to wrap this up soon so he could find a place to stay, should they turn him out.

"But…" Ron frowned. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. I wasn't ready okay?" Ron shook his head, stepping away from Hermione to pace the kitchen.

"Harry…" He turned to look at Hermione. "Can… can you tell us what you've been up to for the past five years?"

Ron halted in his tracks, his back to them. He studied the back of Ron, before slowly nodding.

"The parts I can, yes." Hermione frowned but nodded.

"Shall we move to somewhere more comfortable?"

Later that evening, when Harry was pulling the blanket over his shoulders, sighing in content at finally being able to rest, listening to the sounds of Kretcher moving around the apartment, and the soft talking of Ron and Hermione who still sat in the couch where he'd left them, he found himself finally happy. He'd told them almost everything; how he'd traveled the world, meeting different wizards from all walks of the world, how he'd kept in contact with Kingsley who'd given him random assignments, how he'd learned far more than he'd ever dreamed of, even after his years at Hogwarts, and how, he finally found himself at ease with his old ghosts.

He had left of many things, and he knew Ron and Hermione both knew, but felt that in time Harry would tell them. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to tell them what had happened in Germany two years ago, where he'd been until this very morning. It was something that he found unbelievable precious to him, and telling anyone would be tarnishing his memories, and tarnishing the trust he'd gained.

There would be a day, Harry thought, his mind finally beginning to shut down, there would be a day, when he'd have to dig up the truth about the last five years, but now… now, he was so tired.

TBC

A/N: A sequel of sorts to "The End". Five years have passed since Harry's escape from English Wizarding World. A lot of things have changed, not just with the world around him, but with Harry himself. And they will continue to change. And what exactly happened during those five years that he's so keen to keep under wraps? Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out.

A brief word about this story: It will be a Harry x Draco story. If you do not like that pairing, I'm wondering why you are reading this. It will be extremely moody, angsty, and with lots of ups and downs. But in the end the ever cheesy "love will conquer all" holds true to even haunted war heroes.

Review, comment, questions, but no flames… :3

-Blue