Title: Rules for the Next Great Adventure
Ship: H/Hr – Harmony Bond, Others to be determined during progress
Rating: M – Mature
Warnings: Mature Language, Suggested Adult Situations, Possible Lemons, Possible Triggers
Synopsis: With Voldemort gone, Harry tries to look to the future, but the shadows of the past continue to hold him back. Making one final choice he decides he's ready for the next great adventure, but there are some rules involved no one mentioned before.
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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Miss Rowling, Warner Bros. and the book publishers around the world do. I own the original characters and their stories. Any similarity to established works is purely because my warped mind liked the idea, but since I'm not making any money off this I mean no disrespect to the owners of the ideas and apologize in advance for using them rather than taking forever to come up with my own.
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Author's Note (AN): Yes I know this type of fic has been done countless times, and it's gonna look pretty similar to some of them. This is my first fic so I'm gonna write what I know and what I like. Reviews are more than welcome, flames will be read, and somewhat considered, but don't expect me to stop writing just because you think I'm not being original enough. Anyway, here we go.
AN 2: 08/18/15 Here's the tweaked chapter 1. Not much changed, just a little formatting and a few words. Likely could have left it as is but wanted to truly make a go of this.
Key:
"Hi, I'm Harry." – Speech
'Oh my, it's the Boy Who Lived!' - Thoughts
"Avada Kedvara " – Spells/Magic laden speech
"§Speak to me oh Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four§" - Parseltongue
Chapter 1: Alone
Alone. One of the few words that truly sounds exactly what it means.
Looking out on the world around him, the silence deafening. The circumstances that brought him to this point echoed through his mind in an unending opposite to the world left to him. Limping, he makes his way to the shower, going through the motions he knows are normal. Normal is something long left behind. His fingers brush the picture on the nightstand, three friends smiling and waving to the person taking the picture, seemingly now to the viewer, a frozen moment from a happier time.
Harry made his way through Number Twelve Grimmauld Place without seeing the house around him; even though he owned it he would never call it home. Every unused surface was caked in dust. Were Molly to see the state of the place she would raise her own army to take care of Harry. Kreacher was released by Harry after the battle because of the adoration toward him from the surviving house elves of the school. Then there was the fact Dobby was gone. Harry had returned to Shell Cottage to make the grave more permanent. Bill and Fleur had invited him to stay for a time, but watching them beginning to get their lives in order; especially learning that Fleur was pregnant, made Harry's plight even more painful. While several Hogwarts elves asked to take Kreacher's place, he denied them all with the explanation that they were needed more at the school.
Making a simple breakfast of toast and coffee he sat at the counter, the Prophet laying unopened beside him, almost mocking The-Boy-Who-Conquered with its headlines crowing the end of Voldemort, the end of the war, and hope for the future; hope Harry couldn't bring himself to feel. It's been that way for almost three months now, everyone moving ahead but him, everyone giving lip service of their care for their savior, but no one actually acting on that care.
Sipping his coffee he tried to comprehend his future, but admitting he had one seemed monumentally impossible. Closing his eyes all he can see is the death and destruction, "the greater good" not sounding as great now that it's all over. Friends lost to death, and more lost to the same soul rending grief he feels with every breath, wondering why he lived when so many that shouldn't have been involved died.
Finishing his breakfast, Harry clears his dishes, putting them away before walking to his office, walls covered in medals, awards and boons given by many; most of whom he had no idea their lands existed as anything more than dots on a map. Surrounding those awards were stacks of unopened mail, fan mail from people thanking him for doing something he had no choice but to do, or letters of grief from those that believed had he acted sooner their loved ones would still be alive. The countless howlers these people chose to send had long since exploded, the unbreakable charmed garbage can Harry conjured for them still stained black from their ash.
Sitting at the desk with a sigh, unlocking a drawer he hasn't opened since the day after the final battle, when he couldn't take looking at the destroyed Hogwarts any longer; the last and most prevalent perceived failure in his mind not a building, but another body staring back at him as though to say he failed it as well. Harry Potter looked around the room, not for the first time wishing he still had the resurrection stone so he could talk to those that might understand what he was thinking.
Ginny had left him shortly after agreeing to get back together, having received a training contract with the Holyhead Harpies. Harry had told her to go, follow her dreams like he hadn't been able to. Ron went to work with George, he and Hermione "taking a break" after another row over her want to find her parents, Ron's loyalty to family apparently stronger than his love for Hermione; the family he should have been considering for himself and her. Hearing about that was harder on Harry than Ginny leaving. He considered going with her to find her parent, but she would have had enough trouble in the wizarding world as a war hero herself without Harry getting a spotlight thrown on them just by being beside her. The love he felt for his first true friend drove him to choose to keep his distance, not only in the trek to find her parents, but in her troubled relationship with Ron.
Taking an envelope from the drawer and setting it in front of him, he closes his eyes, leaning back in the chair, worn as though a man ten times his age. The fight is over but the weight on his soul remains. "I'm so sorry everyone; I just want to go home, let the pain end. I wouldn't blame you for hating me, I kinda hate myself for this, but please don't." His voice echoes in the office as he picks up his wand, resting the tip upon his temple as the last words of Harry Potter are spoken for no one other than himself, "The freakishness is gone. Avada Kedvara." As the green flash fades, the lights of Grimmauld Place ironically faded to black, almost as though knowing that no one would set foot in the house again, the last secret keeper gone and becoming the final resting place and forgotten tomb of not the Boy-Who- Lived, but the Boy- Who –Lacked-Love.
