Rating for language. Somebody might get lucky later, who knows?

I don't own crap. JKR owns Harry. Damon and Jamie et al own Gorillaz. I'm just playin.

Summary: In a post-DH world, a lonely Harry Potter makes some new friends (and finds some old ones) in the most unlikely places.


Harry was depressed.

A month ago he was a hero. He defeated the dark lord. Saved his friends. Got the girl. He should be the happiest guy in the world, right?

Well a lot can happen in a month.

The hero part, well, fame is fickle. Apparently Dumbledore had spoiled the wizarding world. Being a great hero AND a great politician meant that after he defeated Grindlewold that he was able to step in and help put the country back together. He did the same thing after Voldemort's first defeat. Well, they expected the same from their new hero. Percy Weasley, new interim Minister of Magic, floo-called Harry at least 5 times a day asking his opinion on vital matters. But what does Harry know about economics? Or setting policy for government workers? Or any of the other things they keep asking him about. (He does, after all, only have a sixth-year education, and due to Ministry laws, has only until his 18th birthday (in 3 weeks) to take any NEWTS he hopes to pass.) And since the world hasn't magically gotten better in every aspect, people are again beating him up in the news. And speaking of news...

We mentioned the girl earlier. Ginny Weasley. She of the red hair and freckles. Love of Harry's life. Well apparently little miss was so bemoaned by Harry's disappearance that she waited a whole two weeks to end up on her back. Since then she's been used like a post owl (by anybody with a knut) and about a week before Harry resurfaced, her birth control charms failed (any charm has it's limits, after all) and she ended up pregnant by one of her 6 or 7 'friends' of the time. She of course waited to disclose this information to our hero until after he professed his undying love for her, and for once in his life the BWL demonstrated that he had a pair by kicking her stupid ass out of his life.

She of course felt the need to prove how good of a person she was by telling everybody that the baby was his, and that he was running away from his responsibility by stating otherwise. Of course his claims to the contrary fell on deaf ears, and even the full page ad he took out in the Daily Prophet offering to take a paternity test (as well as a virginity test, since he was still afflicted with that unfortunate state) was taken as proof that he was guilty, and that he had found a way around those tests. In the process, all of his 'friends' had fallen by the wayside. The Weasleys, and especially Ron refused to believe that Ginny was the village bicycle, and the freshly engaged Hermione could not disagree with them. Neville and Luna had gone off to the jungle of Zimbabwe in search of, um, something or another, and in the midst of all of this ruckus, the courts had ruled that even though the Lupins had named him Teddy's godfather, that since he had no gainful employment (and apparently the million Galleon prize that came with an Order of Merlin didn't count) that custody of Teddy went to Andromeda Tonks-Black.

Harry had always thought that he would have Quidditch to fall back on, being youngest seeker in a century, etc etc. But amazingly enough none of the UK teams would even return his floo for a tryout. (Did we mention that Ron Weasley now works as an assistant to the director of the Magical Games division of the Ministry? Nepotism is a wonderful thing sometimes).

"Well," Harry thought, "I'm tired of feeling like this. That whole war, all the crap I went through, and nothing changed. I'm still getting crapped on. And the worst part is I don't even understand why I even give a fuck!"

So Harry made a resolution to himself. He would stop trying to be what THEY wanted him to be, and who THEY wanted him to be. He signed up to take his NEWTS early, taking a spot that same day, where he passed three (DADA, Charms, and Transfiguration.) He left a message for Minister Weasley letting him know that Harry would no longer be available as an unofficial advisor.

And he started spending a lot more time in muggle London. He started hanging out at cafes and bookstores and head shops. He started trying to experience all the stuff that he never could when he lived with the Dursleys. And he discovered music. He had never realized that there was a soundtrack to everything, if you stopped to listen. It started with little things, like realizing that you could tell what bookstore you were in just by the music that was faintly playing in the background. Or that all of the most important occurrences are punctuated by song. A book on the Beatles showed how four young men from Liverpool became the most important people ever, more well known then kings or presidents, because of their music. Dumbledore had said in Harry's first year that music was 'a magic greater than that which we all do'. But the wizarding world was curionsly devoid of music. Sure they have a few singers or musicians, but they were all trained in the muggle world.

So Harry started learning the guitar. He started like most new musicians, with nothing but a couple of books and a goal. He wanted to be the one providing the soundtrack to life. He wanted to be able to immerse himself in something for the sake of doing it, not because it's 'expected'. He wanted his legacy to be 'Harry, musician'. Not 'Harry, Boy-who-just-won't-bloody-die'.

But then he discovered something. His magic brought something to the music. Something a little different. A few weeks after he started, he sat on the porch of his rented flat (something about being away from the Wizarding world seemed to kickstart his creativity. Almost like the ambient magic did something to him...) practicing scales, when a woman he saw every morning jogging stopped by to tell him that she appreciated him being out there. She said that she felt like his music gave her hope. And as she jogged away, he felt the place on his cheek where she had dropped a kiss before leaving and realized that there might just be something more to this.

Gradually over time in the next month or two, he found that as soon as he touched a string, he had an audience. It could have been coincidence at first, but when he was trying out a new guitar at his local shop and got an audience of 30, he knew that wasn't normal. And everybody said the same thing...that his music gave them hope.

After a few months of practice, Harry felt he was ready to actually try his hand at playing with other people, so he started looking for bands to play with. He decided that he needed to look the part if he wanted to fit in a little better with the scene, so he 'grew' his hair out to waist length, started wearing the generic rock star uniform of jeans, boots, t-shirt, leather jacket and sunglasses, and adopted the name 'Sebastian'(meaning hope). He started with the normal places, local clubs, music stores, to no avail, until somebody clued him in that the place to find like minded individuals was on the internet. For the next few months, he played with anybody that would touch an instrument with him, regardless of style. He had a semi-regular gig with a blues band, played with a death metal quartet, and even played with a guy that used an old pickup truck engine to fill up his bagpipes. Then one day...

'Sebastian' was cruising the 'musician wanted' ads, looking for something to do for the weekend, when he ran across a rather strange ad. It read:

"International supergroup looking for guitarist. Temporary gig, our full time guitarist has found herself banished to Hell, and her android replacement isn't ready yet. Must be able to play everything from Hendrix to Beethoven to Escudero. Apply in person at Kong Studios in Essex. Must have own instruments and the ability to travel."

A few clicks later showed Harry that this was the last known studio location of a band calling themselves 'Gorillaz'. "Silly name" he thought to himself, as he downloaded a couple of their demo tracks.

Two hours later he put down his headphones slowly, pondering over what he just heard. Two studio albums, multiple remix albums, and what the hell is the deal with 'cool shoeshines'? But he kept coming back to a song from their original album, entitled 'Tomorrow Comes Today'. "Their lyricist really knows what it's like. I wonder what he's been through to make him understand things that well. Ah well, guess I'm taking a road trip. Better go buy a car"

Three hours later, Harry pulled up to the gates of what looked like a giant laboratory. Getting out of his new van, he walked up to the entrance to see an empty velvet-roped queue with a sign denoting 'guitar applicants'. Another sign said 'Bugger off if you haven't got an appointment unless you're really effing good. And if you are, go straight in to the studio. Queues are for wankers anyway. -M' Harry walked straight in, and headed to the (typically) empty reception desk, where a sign states 'Bloody hell. What are you reading this for? Go in the lift and head down to the recording studio, you knob!'. With a smile on his face, Harry headed to the lift, and hit the appropriate button. As he stepped out of the lift, a bag went over his head, and he felt himself being dragged towards...something evil. Before he even had the presence of mind to pull his wand, he heard a deep, American sounding voice say "I hope this will really work, Muds" before feeling himself being thrown...somewhere evil.

After a long fall, before landing on his ass with a 'thud', Harry managed to struggle out of the bag to find himself in what looks like a generic office, with a desk, a couple of chairs, and a phone. Believing this as part of the interview, he sat in one of the chairs to wait. And wait he did. After what felt like hours, he decided to leave the room to see what else was there. As soon as he touched the door handle, it disappeared, and in its place a small Asian woman stood.

"You must be Murdock's latest attempt. Sorry about that. My name is Noodle, welcome to Hell".

As Harry gaped at her, he noticed that she was not alone. A large black dog padded up behind her. Harry's mouth dropped. "PADFOOT?"