Disclaimer: I own almost nothing. I certainly don't own Harry Potter, Waitrose or anything else that gets mentioned here after.

It was a fine morning, Harry deduced, for everybody else in Islington. There was bright sunshine and birds singing, and relatively little congestion. He however had an unpleasant task to fulfil.

Standing on his house's upper step, loaded down with trunks, he found himself about to use the knocker. Catching himself in time however he got out his wand and tapped the door, pausing for a moment before it swung open. Not knowing what to expect, he stepped inside. He was greeted by an entrance corridor once again filled with cobwebs.

Suddenly, without warning, a ghostly image of an old wizard fluttered towards him.

"Kill." Harry responded without thinking, and the image disappeared. At least that hex seemed now to be fading. If he had to confront a splitting image of Dumbledore every time he walked in, he was sure he'd eventually go crazy.

Still, Harry knew that his current quest was unavoidable. He had to make this place both liveable and homely.

Staring first at the house-elf heads, then at the curtains behind which dwelt She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Disturbed, Harry also knew something else. That was not going to be easy.

Harry made his way down the stairs to the kitchen and placed his cases against the side. Even though the kitchen had once been gleaming, it had now been torn up, and was an even worse mess that it had been before. Only Yaxley would have been able to break in, but ransacking the place wouldn't have required anyone else. There was nothing else for it.

"Kreacher."

With a loud crack the house-elf materialised in front of him, looking around and becoming equally dismayed.

"Master," Kreacher bowed deeply. "is there something I can do for you?"

"Kreacher, we need to make this place feel like a home."

Harry sat down on one of the chairs still in the room, only for it to collapse under him, sending him to the floor.

"Is Master hurt?" asked Kreacher, standing over him.

"I'm fine," replied Harry standing up. Then he jokingly added, "But wouldn't that be a bad way to die. Survive Voldemort, a basilisk bite, a hundred dementors, two dragons, a sphinx and a nest of giant spiders, only to fall victim to a dodgy dining chair?"

"It would be truly tragic Master," replied Kreacher without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Harry raised his wand and with a yell of "Reparo" had reassembled the chair. Nonetheless he gave it a good looking over before sitting down again.

"OK Kreacher, I'll repair, you clean. On three..." Though Kreacher had already started, going over to the large cauldron that used to be on the fireplace and scrubbing it with great abandon. Harry started charming various chairs and the table, plates and dishes and cups and glasses that hadn't been stolen. Followed by Kreacher cleaning them. Sometimes the elf was so hard with his scrubbing that they broke, necessitating that Harry re-fix them.

Harry wished he knew the spell Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn used to fix the house the potions master had been staying in when he first met him but finally, after a very boring hour, the crockery was removed from the floor and Harry turned his wand upon the fireplace itself and muttered "Incendio".

Heat and light burst into the room, emanating from the fire. His kitchen still wasn't homely in the remotest sense, but it was inhabitable, which was still a marked improvement.

Kreacher stayed to cook lunch and after advising him not to used the dining room, but rather the table in the kitchen, Harry left to explore the rest of his house. He moved cautiously up the main staircase, taking great care to ensure the stairs were stable before putting any weight on them.

He looked around on the first floor. On this floor was the drawing room, the room that Hermione and Ginny had used as a bedroom, but whether that was its true purpose he couldn't say, and lastly the bathroom.

Deciding the last one of those was the most essential to have workable, Harry stepped inside. The bath itself was still intact, albeit cracked, but the sink wasn't so lucky, laying on the floor with the pipe sticking out. Luckily there was no water coming out of it. Finally the toilet was still more or less intact, but someone, probably Yaxley though there was an off chance it was George had stolen the seat.

Still, it was the sink that was in the most need of repair and Harry pulled it upright. He quickly realised however that he couldn't reattach it to the floor. For the first and he hoped only time in his life, he found himself wishing he had one of his uncle's drills.

As a temporary solution he severing charmed a slight groove in the ground and balanced the sink on it, careful to line the piping up correctly. That at least could be secured by magic.

With great trepidation he tried to wash his hands. The water was a bit erratic but at first the basin seemed stable enough. Then however it started to tilt and Harry was forced to lean against it to keep it from falling back over. Somehow it worked, but it was not a good solution. He knew it would have to be properly fixed at some point.

He emerged from the bathroom and entered the drawing room, only to find the carpet uprooted and draped against the far wall, and Harry knew this house well enough to know that there were most likely doxies in there.

The tapestry had at least been left alone. Harry suspected that Yaxley could never bring himself to attack such an item. Still, though it pained him to admit it, there was nothing he could do about this room right now.

Harry honestly didn't know what to expect from what he termed the girls room but he thought the beds would at least have been left intact. But no, they and the mattresses had been forced open, and given the mess Harry assumed the use of the blasting curse. This was another room that would have to wait.

Harry continued upstairs coming to the room he had shared with Ron. It also contained other rooms he had somehow managed never to enter, and didn't even know what was inside. He wondered whether he could persuade Bill to come over, as a curse breaker's skill set would likely come in very handy.

He entered what he had come to view as his room. He quickly wished he hadn't.

The mirror had been shattered into pieces, but was still producing a low groan. The beds, like downstairs were showing signs of a blasting curse and were no more. Furthermore, as they were cursed rather than smashed, Harry didn't think Reparo would work here.

Harry decided it would be best not to venture into the other rooms on this floor, at least until he found out from Kreacher what was supposed to be inside of them.

Going up even more stairs, Harry knew this floor contained nothing but bedrooms. He hoped they wouldn't be like below, but he wasn't holding his breath.

First he tried Fred and George's room and was not surprised to find it in general upheaval. What he was surprised to find was evidence that said upheaval was caused not by a blasting curse but by modified magical fireworks, complete with packing invoice. He supposed that was as much his fault as the twins' financial backer as it was anybody else's.

The room Mr and Mrs Weasley had stayed in was also damaged, though it was less thorough this time. The mattress was broken apart, but at least the actual frame of the bed was still intact. There were blood marks on one of the springs, and Harry cheerfully entertained the possibility that Yaxley pierced himself as the mattress exploded.

Last on this floor was the master bedroom, also known as Buckbeak's room. It looked like Yaxley had learnt from his mistake and cut this one open with Diffindo. That pleased Harry as the severing charm was easily reversible. Unfortunately it also meant that the only bedroom he had a remote chance of using tonight was this one, and that didn't please him very much. The en-suite bathroom however was a right mess, to the extent that it didn't look safe to walk across without very tough boots.

Harry decided that he couldn't bear to go up to the top floor. Seeing what the others were like, and knowing how the Death Eaters felt about traitors, he didn't want to think about what had likely befallen Regulus's room.

So instead he made his way back to the basement kitchen, where Kreacher was still preparing lunch. He pulled up a chair and looked in his trunks, which contained all of his belongings.

He was startled by the door knocker echoing through the house. And as the door knocker was quite loud, it was quickly followed by-

"Filthy blood traitors..." The portrait had woken up.

Harry grabbed his wand and went back up to the hall.

"Langlock." He cast the spell and the portrait's tongue jammed in her mouth. Harry was feeling pleased with himself for managing to shut her up when the knocker sounded again.

Harry kept his wand ready and slowly opened the door. Ginny, Hermione and Luna stood facing him, absolutely soaked. Apparently, in Ottery St. Catchpole, the weather must be much worse than it was in London.

Harry decided to check they actually were who they said they were.

"Hermione, which one of my possessions did you have confiscated in third year?"

"Your broom Harry, and I did not have it confiscated. I had it checked to make sure it wasn't cursed, believe it or not there's a difference. Now, can we please come in."

Harry started laughing, closely followed by Hermione. Ginny chuckled and Luna, seemingly unsure, stayed quiet. Harry invited them in, hugging Hermione and Luna and kissing Ginny on what he'd intended to be the cheek. He led them downstairs, making sure to inquire loudly if they had any White Spirit as he passed the portrait.

When they were all sat round the table, at the end nearest the fire to warm up, Harry finally asked them what they were doing there.

"Can't we just have come to see how you are getting on?" Ginny answered with her own question.

"In theory yes," Harry replied. "but you've forgotten one detail. I know you all. What do you want?"

"We genuinely wanted to see you Harry," Luna said. "You caused quite a fuss when you left The Burrow."

"Really, there's no other reason?"

"None whatsoever." Replied Hermione.

"Well..." Began Luna (Harry knew it), "from the way she was talking about it, I think Ginny wants to consummate your relationship, but I think that was in a 'may as well while we're here' type of way."

"You're not supposed to tell him that." Ginny admonished her as best she could while staring at her shoes.

"Well," said Harry. "that's not happening. There's no usable bed at the moment."

"Of course that's your objection." Hermione teased. "Wait what, how can there be no beds?"

"They've been blown up."

Hermione's voice lowered an extra octave. "I see. And is there anything else I should know when Mrs. Weasley asks how you're getting on?"

"Ah, so that's why..." Harry was interrupted as Kreacher came through them seemingly baring enough food for the Hogwarts start of year feast. Hermione shot a pointed look at Harry that he was sure had something to do with S.P.E.W.

"Kreacher's sorry there is so little, Master. Master did not tell Kreacher to expect guests."

"That's OK." Laughed Harry. "There's more than enough food here to go around the entire street."

The food was laid out in front of them, at least at first. Kreacher had made so much that it filled the centre of the table, all the way to the far end.

"You don't have put up with this you know," Hermione told Kreacher as he served her drink, earning her pointed looks from everyone else.

"Kreacher is satisfied, Miss Hermione."

He then served Harry and Ginny, which passed without comment. And Luna, who vigorously thanked him.

"Most Welcome, Miss," replied Kreacher.

"Come on Kreacher, sit down. Join us." Luna invited.

"Miss is not Kreacher's master. I cannot unless Master instructs me," he replied. Luna looked at Harry.

Harry really didn't want a nice lunch with his friends spent with his house-elf, but Hermione was sat next to him and he didn't dare refuse.

"Join us Kreacher." He relented, to Luna's and Hermione's pleasure.

They sat and ate for a while, until Ginny, having finally regained her composure, started talking again.

"So Harry, George was here the other week and he said this place was a right state, even compared to normal. Any idea what happened to it?"

"I suspect Yaxley," Harry told her. "Though if George was here, he may yet be responsible for stealing the toilet seat."

"You haven't got a toilet seat?" Hermione stared at him. "Harry, is there anything in this house that does work?"

"First off Hermione, the toilet seat is a helpful, though non-essential item. The toilet still works without it." Harry glared back at her, silently remembering that he hadn't actually tested it and it may very well not work. So he continued. "Secondly, I thought repairing this was more important. You know, sort out the necessary items before the useful ones."

Ginny meanwhile was rummaging through her bag, which Harry thought was rather bad table manners but didn't comment on it.

"Here we are Harry," his girlfriend said, "have it back. George thought he could pass it off as his own. Of course, once it'd been cleaned, it was obvious that it was taken it from here."

Sure enough she was holding up the seat, with the black family emblem carved into the wood, and indeed it was far cleaner than he'd ever seen it before.

"My brothers regret not coming to see you themselves, but they went out with Dean to play a variant of darts with a footballers head."

Harry just about understood that one. England had made it through to the last sixteen of the World Cup, whereupon a midfielder had been sent off. England went on to lose on penalties. Harry only knew this because every pub in the land seemed to be in a state of mourning, and he had seen the offending footballer's photo on many darts boards himself. Then he'd apparated to Wales and found the jovial environment he was looking for, as they laughed at England's misfortune.

He understood Dean's obsession with football, but he found it more odd in the Weasleys. Then again, knowing them as well as he did, they probably just wanted to throw darts at someone's head.

Harry received the toilet seat in the formal manner of public officials trading gifts with visiting diplomats, which caused Luna and Hermione to chuckle slightly.

He then followed up with "I'll install that after lunch.", which had them almost falling off their chairs, to his surprised amusement.

"I wanted my dad to come," Luna told Harry after she'd recovered, "but he said you probably wouldn't want to see him. I told him that was bonkers but he wouldn't have it."

"I would have tolerated him for your sake Luna, but can we get back to eating, please?" Harry asked. "I don't know how long this will stay hot for."

"I agree," Luna said, as she drank gravy and lightly poured Butterbeer over her food. Harry knew her too well to comment.

After many more topics of discussion, thankfully not involving the England football team, the food was finally finished and they just sat round the table, no one willing to stand up.

"Does Master want this cleared up?" Kreacher asked. Harry had almost forgotten he was there. He was going to answer when-

"Never mind Kreacher, I've got it," Hermione said, pointing her wand at the table. As the dishes started to clean themselves, Harry made a mental note to ask someone to teach him that spell when he had more free time.

"Very well Miss Hermione," Kreacher said to her and he bowed deeply. "Does Master require Kreacher at this time?"

"No Kreacher," Harry replied before turning to Luna who was excitedly telling everyone that a Snorkack had been spotted recently in a branch of Waitrose. Kreacher bowed to Harry and walked off.

Eventually Harry decided that he had sat down long enough and forced himself to his feet.

He grabbed the toilet seat and left the room, eager to get back to his refurbishing as soon as possible. Very quickly he had bounded up to the bathroom (remembering to top up the spell on Walburga along the way) and set about trying to reattach it.

That wasn't proving easy however as he couldn't get it to fit. The bolts did fit their sockets, but sadly the sockets didn't quite line up with each other. So he resorted to the tried and true method of banging something in.

"Flipendo."

There was a grating sound as the knockback jinx forced the bolts in, but significantly widened the gap in the process. Harry decided that it would have to do, and turned to leave, surprised to find Luna watching him from the doorway.

"Well Harry, that was certainly one way of doing it."

"Luna, I do not wish to discuss that seat, ever, again. OK?"

"Certainly Harry."

Harry checked the flush to make sure it worked, which it did but made an awful din, before leaving the room."

"So what's next on the tour of your house?" Luna asked. "I haven't seen it before."

Harry shook his head and walked off in the direction of the master bedroom, Luna following close behind.

An: I would like to make one thing clear. I do not hate David Beckham, but public opinion of him was not good following the England/Argentina match in the 1998 World Cup and no one (at least in my town) would talk about anything else.

I don't know whether to continue with this, or if it's better off as a oneshot.