Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are all J.K. Rowling's. I do not own anything but the OCs that appear in this chapter and the ones following. I repeat, I do not own neither Harry Potter nor the characters from the book. Only the plot and the OCs. Thank you.

It had been such a long time since Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding World, The Boy Who Lived, The Chose One, and so many other names, had put a foot on Privet Drive.

He swore to himself that he never would. It had been such an awful place. His childhood had been miserable. He was all right now, so why even bother? Was there even a reason he had to go back? The Dursleys were safe, not that he cared about them, really. But they had been the only reason he had been there in the first place.

No, it had been Dumbledore's decision.

If it had been Harry's or the Dursleys', he would have been raised by Sirius and he wouldn't have tried to kill Pettigrew. Therefore he wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban. Harry would be different now. He couldn't even imagine how that Harry would've been like. He would've been just like his father, James Potter. He'd be far less alike from his mother than he was now. According to Remus, he was just like Lily Potter.

It was funny how he got the looks from his father, but wasn't the trouble-maker he had been.

Funny how he got the eyes of his mother, but didn't look more like her physically.

The list would go on and on.

Harry felt as though he had a piece of each one of them inside of him. A bit of Remus, of Sirius, of James, of Lily...of even Dumbledore.

Of course he would. Why wouldn't he?

The one person he now wished he had gotten something a bit from was Severus Snape. Harry knew that he would've never be capable of being as brave as Severus Snape had been. The man was a hero to Harry now. And still, the word underestimated what Severus Snape meant to him. He owed him everything. Everything and so much more. But there was no way of paying him back, or even try to. A sharp pain struck Harry in his chest as he walked around what was now his new home. It had been about two years after the war and Harry still couldn't stop grieving those whom had died for him. Hermione and Ron had both tried to tell him how they had all known what might've happen, how even they knew what might've happened to them, that it wasn't Harry's fault, and that those gone wouldn't like him living like this. But Harry couldn't stop blaming himself. Every time he visited Andromeda and Ted, every time he saw George, every time Dumbledore was brought up to conversation, every time that he saw a black dog, every time he'd hear Snape's name, every time he thought of how long it had been he had casted a Patronus, every time he thought about a doe...

They were everywhere, haunting him.

There was not a person in the whole wide world that knew how guilty Harry felt. How much he wished it was he who would be buried ten feet under soil. He had thought of doing a reckless thing, but the voice of Remus would always haunt him:

...He and your mother gave their lives to save yours. And gambling their sacrifice...

...seems to me to be a pretty poor way to repay them...

The only difference were that that time he had been wandering around the castle with the Marauder's Map when he thought Sirius was a killer, and this time... Harry would become a killer himself, but he couldn't do it. Remus had been righ. He still was. Giving up truly is the worst way to repay those who gave up their lives for Harry.

He splashed cold water against his face, trying to wake himself up from the nightmare he was living in.

He's dead. He's dead and that's what matters. They're safe. We all are. Get over yourself, you're not supposed to feel like this.

After changing and wrapping a scarf around his neck, Harry disapparated and felt the cold wind blowing through the streets of what he had been bound to call home. Snow lay gently on top of the roofs of the houses, on the bushes, on the grass. The sun was already going down. It was getting a bit dark, but he just had to be there. Ginny would've kicked his sorry arse if she knew what he was up to, but still Harry didn't care. This was the one thing that hadn't been affected by the war, or at least he hoped it hadn't. With a simple 'Alohomora' the front door was unlocked. Closing the door behind him, Harry lit his wand and stared around. It was very dark, not because it lacked light, but because it felt that way.

The stairs creaked as he started to go up. It hadn't been too long, had it? Why did it look so...ancient? Perhaps it was his imagination, he thought. Or maybe it was how long ago that life he had led between those walls seemed to have been. His old room was empty, just like the rest of the house. The stairs creaked again as he descended the stairs. Harry found no need to walk into the rest of the bedrooms.

To his surprise, the cupboard's door was opened. Slightly, but it was opened. Harry felt as though the roof was crashing down upon him. His height had increased more than he had expected it to. He still wasn't as tall as Ron or George, but he was a bit taller than Hermione now, at least. A little smile peeked over from his lips as Harry thought of how she used to tease him.

He walked into the long room where seven of him had once stood. Harry stopped particularly where he remembered Fred standing at. He looked at his side, where George would've been and felt the emptiness and guilt weigh heavier onto him. George didn't look the same. He wasn't the same and he would never be. Harry hated himself to an unbelievable amount for being the reason George was the way he was now. The only thing that had made him look almost like his old self was when Harry tentatively suggested that he should re-open the shop.

''It's what Fred would've wanted'' He remembered saying. George worked twice as hard, feeling like he should do double the work, making up for Fred's absence.

Harry froze right where he stood when he heard a knock on the door. He had almost forgotten the reason why he had come in the first place. His childhood. He hated it. It was ruined thanks to the Dursleys, but it wasn't too bad thanks to that knock on the door he had first heard when he had just turned eight. It was on his birthday. He had gotten nothing from his aunt and uncle, let alone from his cousin. But he was used to it. The summer heat was almost unbearable that the Dursleys chose a day at the beach wouldn't be so bad for them.

For them.

Harry had been left all alone and he simply sat in his cupboard staring at a wall, thinking about what he'd try and sneak out of the fridge to eat without the Dursleys finding out. Before they had left, his uncle, the arrogant git, had taken on count what was left on the house for food and warned Harry that if there was to be something gone, he wouldn't eat for three days straight and stay locked up inside the cupboard. His life was hell on earth, but he managed to survive. He made up his mind to take a little piece of pie that was left from last week, neither of the Dursleys had paid any attention to it and Harry had heard Petunia going on about how she needed to clean the fridge and stuff it with new things. She did this twice a week.

Harry had walked out of the cupboard and looked around, as though there was anyone at the house at all, and went on his toes, silently and carefully, making his way to the kitchen. A knock on the door sent him flying against a wall, making a portrait fall on his head. He picked it up quickly and checked to see if it was broken.

It was.

Right on Dudley's face.

He was the walking dead now.

They'd have him for dinner that night.

The knock on the door made him jump slightly again. He hid the portrait inside his cupboard, closed the door and walked over the front one. Where they already back? If they were, he was definitely dead. The knock sounded a bit more urgent this time.

''Wh-who is it?'' He called with a nervous voice as he jumped a bit, trying to see through the hole that was about ten inches, probably more, away from his head.

''I'm Mrs. Figg's niece... Your neighbour?'' A little girl's voice came from the other side.

''Er- The Dursleys aren't home''

''If they aren't, then who're you?''

Harry frowned and pressed his ear against the door, trying to listen better.

''I'm their nephew, Harry'' He had hesitated a moment before speaking, knowing that he shouldn't talk to strangers, let alone give them his name. Not that Petunia and Vernon were so worried about Harry actually being able to interact with other human beings, but Harry had heard them repeat this to Dudley thousands of times. The other side of the door remained silent. Harry felt slightly disappointed, for some reason he couldn't think of, when he thought that the girl must've left. Harry sighed and turned to go back to the cupboard.

''Harry who?'' He had to blink several times to make sure he had heard correctly. He ran back to the door and pressed his ear against it again.

''Excuse me, what did you say again? I didn't quite hear you...''

''I said: Harry who?''

''Oh... I'm Harry. Harry Potter'' The silence again. Harry didn't give up as fast as he had. He waited for her to reply, which she did, after almost two minutes of complete silence.

''I'm Susan Merrick''

''I thought you said you were Mrs. Figg's niece''

''I kind of am. A close friend of mum's, she is. We visit her every summer and I heard from her that it was some boy's birthday''

''It is my birthday...'' Harry had mumbled out loud without thinking.

''The boys around here also said it was some guy's named Gary Totter, and your name's close enough''

''How did they know it was my-''

''I made you something, with my sister... Well, she wasn't much help, only passed me the ingredients while I did most of the work, but I er- made you a cake'' Harry was startled, shocked, surprised, and relieved that he wouldn't have to creep into the kitchen and cope with the consequences of being caught.

''You shouldn't have-''

''Oh, it was nothing. I love to bake. Cook, in general. It's fun. Dad says I might be a cook when I grow up''

''That's, er- nice''

''It is'' She said almost excitedly. There was another long moment of silence and Harry heard his stomach growl and a giggle from the other side. ''Are you going to open the door or not?''

''Right, sorry''

And he did. Back then and in the present. At that time, it had been a girl of his age and height with the bluest of eyes he had ever seen, her hair in a French braid that lay effortlessly against her shoulder, a chocolate cake in her hands on a silver plate, her delicate skin glowing with the rays of sun coming down and onto them. Harry had thought she was the coolest girl in Privet Drive. They had easily become friends afterwards. She had been his escape whenever he got tired of the Dursleys. Even at his years in Hogwarts they would meet over the summer and make it less sufferable for him. She didn't mind, though. Spending time with two old friends talking about the good old days and how fast kids grew up these days wasn't as exciting as spending time with Harry Potter was. He was her best mate.

When Harry opened the front door at the present moment, the first genuine smile he ever had since the war grew on his lips when he saw the twenty-year-old Susan Merrick standing in front of him. She had changed a lot more than he had remembered her like. She was taller, but not taller than he was. Thinner, but not only bones. And her long caramel hair had a deep blue wool hat covering its top. The first two buttons of her black shirt were unbuttoned, but her blue cardigan that matched her hat protected her from the cold outside. Tall black leather boots up to her knees had her black jeans tucked inside. She looked flawless, in either summer or winter, past or present, young or older, kid or adult... The fact that he didn't feel in some sort of dangerous trance reassured Harry that she wasn't a Veela.

She wasn't even a witch, for Merlin's butt.

Harry stood there. They both did. Looking at each other, processing all the time they had spent apart. Three years and being killed once was a long time. Susan's hair blew slightly forward and his blew back. That big bright smile that he loved so much was flashed right back at him. Her sweet and tender voice brought him back to Earth.

''Welcome back, Potter''

He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him... not wanting to let go again.