A/N Alright, I didn't see too many full on stories where Harry moves to Lima, so hope you all like it and that I'm able to update regularly. I'm not British, so I am probably gonna get some of the slang wrong.

Lima, Ohio. Small, unassuming, and exactly the last place anybody would ever expect him to run to. He knew he was running. It was, however, more than just exhaustion or depression that caused him to run off to the most non-magical place he could find and still be in contact with humans. He needed this. He needed to finally feel normal. Not the freak-boy disgrace left on the doorstep, or the golden Boy-Who-Lived, or the lying attention-seeker, or even the glorious Man-Who-Conquered. He needed to heal.

He was slighly depressed, with the many deaths still weighing on his conscience. And he was exhausted, having spent a month immediately after the Final Battle helping rebuild Hogwarts and the entire wizarding community of Britain, before running off to America to try and stay under the media radar. After that, Harry had run off to the Iconic American cities, New York, Chicago and even Los Angeles. However, he discovered that where there are a lot of people, there tend to be a good number of wizards. Even in the American Wizarding community, he was still too bloody famous.

So he started to research smaller, less dense towns, and finally stopped at Lima, Ohio. Next was to find out where to love and where to go to school. Hermione somehow convinced him before he left to brush up on his muggle studies and enroll in a local high school. Well, she told him to go to one of those posh private schools, but despite the affection he had garnered for Hogwarts, he wanted to try something a bit different.

Besides, he still wasn't quite used to being as rich as he pretty much just discovered he was. Right after the war, Gringotts had reluctantly contacted him about the Black and Potter fortunes, shocking him into a stupor. A private school setting would make him a tad uncomfortable. He was set for the next ten generations pretty much.

But he wanted to try public school, which led him to here. Sitting in his car (On which he had admittedly splurged ) and trying to gather his thoughts a bit. However, seeing a group of large boys in bright red jackets throwing a well-dressed and decidedly feminine looking guy into a dumpster, he couldn't help but think of this entire ordeal as a mistake.

He was a Gryffindor though, so he squared his shoulders and got out of his car, hitching his book bag over his shoulder and putting on an attitude of complete confidence. A war could do that to a guy, it was always important for a team to be able to look up to their leader and see a pillar for them to lean on if they ever needed to do so, making acts of confidence and bravery something that he learned to perfect. Of course,being able to exit out of a classic American muscle car in the best clothes he had ever owned helped a lot in the way of confidence. The leading females in his life (I.E. Ginny, Hermione, and Fleur) had subdued him and forced him to London in order purchase a whole new bloody wardrobe, all the while attempting to explain what all they made him buy actually was. He was currently wearing a dark blue (which was apparently navy) plaid shirt (plaid, not flannel. Harry, they're different) with dark blue trousers (They're jeans Harry, Merlin) and a grey beanie (It looks great with your hair, you have to get it). No matter how much the girls had attempted to drill fashion into his head, however, he was still fairly clueless. All he knew is to avoid certain colors together, and that it all felt a lot better to wear than any of Dudley s cast-offs or even his wizarding robes.

It's good that he looked relatively confident though, the closer Harry got to the fairly large building, the more whispers about him and who he could be reached his ears.

"Is he new here?"

"Has he always gone here, I've never noticed him"

"He is so hot, I wonder if he's single"

Admittedly, that last whisper had him feeling a lot better, allowing him to adopt a small smirk reminiscent of his late godfather and, unknown to him, his father as well. He strode into the school, looking all around at the red and white decor until he saw a small sign hanging from the ceiling that read "Front Office". Harry stopped for a second, the flow of people parting around him, took a deep breath, and entered the room.

"Welcome , we at William McKinley High are happy to have you here" said the headma-no, the principal. They shook hands and Harry strolled back into the empty hall, the bell having already rung a few minutes ago. He glanced down at his timetable, he only had four classes, but as was earlier explained to him, at the end of the semester he would be getting a whole new set. Harry had thought it smart to sign up for classes that he didn't really have to study for too much, stuff that he would know even though his muggle schooling had come to a stop in primary school. He managed English for first hour, American History for second, Spanish, and then Gym. He isn't too pants at Grammar and all, so hopefully that would be fine. He could pass off as not really learning much specific American history because he's British, Its first level Spanish, and Gym is...well, Gym. Harry let loose a full fledged grin, everything migh turn out okay, His classes seemed doable, he looked to blend in well enough, and ever since leaving Britain it was like some dark cloud had lifted, letting the sun through for the first time in a while. He looked down at his timetable again. Now all he needed to figure out is where the hell Ms. Roberts, room 105A is.