Chapter One:

Starting Out on a Journey

Harry plunked his trunk down at the foot of his bed and sighed. He was back, back at Privet Drive that is.

He looked around the room that he hadn't been in since last summer. It seemed like a million years ago now that his guard had broken him free and he'd flown over London to Grimmauld Place. This past year had changed many things for Harry; he was not the same young man he had been at the beginning of last year. Every thing had changed now…

'Boy get down here, there is someone I want you to meet!' Vernon bellowed from the living room downstairs.

Harry sighed once again; this was going to be a long summer. He opened his bedroom door, turned right, and hurried down the stairs.

Harry walked into the Living Room to find Uncle Vernon sitting with a man who must have been in his late sixties. He was by no means tall, but he couldn't be defined as short either. He was quite a slim man with little to no fat on him. His face showed his age with wrinkles and white beard stubble covering his face. His hair was a fine white, it was ruffled and quite short, and it seemed that the scowl he wore was permanently etched there. Who was this man, and why the hell did Uncle Vernon want to introduce them?

'Boy, I want you to meet Mr. Finn, he just recently moved in next door, say hello,' Vernon demanded.

'Hello Mr. Finn,' Harry mumbled, still trying to figure out the point of this introduction.

'Speak up boy!' the elderly man commanded in a gruff, firm voice.

Harry looked the man over once more, trying to place him. It was obvious he was a no nonsense type gentleman, but he didn't seem like the type of man to be friends with Uncle Vernon either.

He cleared his throat and said in a clearer voice this time, 'Hello Mr. Finn.'

'There now, much better,' Mr. Finn voiced, before turning back to Vernon, 'I think he'll do nicely Vernon.'

What the hell are they on about, Harry thought. 'Um… excuse me Uncle Vernon, what's going on?' He asked in the most polite voice he could muster, not wanting his uncle to start yelling in front of this man.

'What's going on, boy is that as from this moment on you will be going over to Mr. Finns every afternoon to help him around the house. He asked if either you or Dudley could give up some of your afternoon time, and seeing as Dudders is far to busy with his social life, you've landed the job. You start tomorrow,' Vernon said in a sickly sweet tone he had plastered on to make himself appear well in front of the neighbors.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, just like that his summer had taken a turn, for better or worse he did not know. Though it would be a blessing to get out of this house for a little bit this summer. He didn't think he'd be able to bear yet another whole summer with only the Dursley's for company. But, no one had yet said anything about this old man; he could be worse company then even the Dursley's, if that were possible.

'Right then now that that's settled, Mr. Finn would you care to stay for tea?' Vernon asked, again in that phony tone of voice.

'Thank you for the offer, Vernon, but I am afraid I must decline. I have my bird to care for you see,' Mr. Finn spoke, though Harry had a feeling he was lying through his teeth. Though he couldn't blame the man, he'd do the same and more to avoid dinner with the Dursley's. Maybe this man wasn't so bad after all…

Vernon hid his disgust for the talk of the bird, he and petunia had never been much for animals, and smiled at the elderly man before leading him to the door.

'Oh well then perhaps another time,' Harry never thought he had heard his uncle speak so humanely, with the exception of when he was sucking up to one of his clients.

Harry heard the door shut and watched as his uncle reentered the living room, the fake smile that was there moments ago had been replaced with his customary angry pig-like expression.

'What do you want, Boy?' Vernon sneered at him.

'Huh? Wha- nothing… nothing at all.' Harry said once again murmuring.

'Then get out of my sight,' Vernon said with a threatening manner.

Harry turned around, rolling his eyes, and headed back up the stairs to the solitariness of his small bedroom.

He shut the door, and flopped on his bed staring across at the open window leading out to the streets of Little Whinging. The place that was to be his prison for at least the next month.

Left with nothing else to do, now that any and all distractions he had planned had been forgotten, Harry's mind turned back to that night back in June. Where everything had changed…

'There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing… he's gone.'

'Come out, come out, little Harry… Crucio'

'If death is nothing, Dumbledore then kill the boy...'

'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…'

Harry ached and shuddered. He needed Sirius back he never knew how much he meant to him until it was too late to tell, and be worthy anything.

He hated bellatrix for doing this, but even more he hated himself for letting it happen.

Sirius didn't deserve his death; he'd only just started to get his life back together, though he had still been in hiding. Azkaban's grip on his mind was finally loosening, and he had been starting to smile easier. He could finally look into his eyes and see a glint of hope, a small sliver of content happiness. He could see him as a new man, one that had not been condemned to twelve years in Azkaban but one that was strong, brave, a bright spot on a rainy day.

But now none of that mattered, because Sirius was gone, and therefore so were his smiles, his hope, and his contentment.

He couldn't shake the feeling in his heart. He felt like it was an open gaping wound, which was bleeding freely. Bleeding free with guilt and loss, and he couldn't stop the flow.

The prophecy that had now finally been brought to his attention did nothing but tread salt in his wound.

Now not only was he condemned to bring an outcome to this war, but condemned to face the knowledge that what ever happened between now and then, would be on his shoulders, would weigh on his heart.

For he was the only one that could stop it all. The only one able to stop the good from dying, the people from hurting, the evil from rising and spreading wide.

But it was too late for some. Dumbledore had left it too long, people had already suffered greatly and the second war had barely started, hell some still believed that there was now war.

Why did Dumbledore have to keep it from him? He had no right to interfere, no right to protect him from his future. He wasn't his father, and he wasn't his guardian. No that was Sirius' title, but no longer… he was no more.

Harry shut his eyes, hoping that the act would wipe away his pain, his guilt, his destiny. But when he opened them again nothing had changed, his wounded heart hadn't closed, his guild hadn't risen, his destiny was still there looming in the future, waiting to be fulfilled.

He lay still, ignoring his uncles bellowing voice, telling him that if he wanted dinner his arse better find its way down the stairs; ignoring everything.

Harry took a deep breath and rolled over on his side. He removed his glass and set them on his bedside cabinet, and shut his eyes.

He slowly drifted off thinking, knowing that everything was different… and that starting now his life could never be the same.

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Harry gasped and sat up quickly. He opened his eyes to see himself at Privet Drive not the Department of Mysteries. It was just a nightmare.

He picked up his glasses off his small bedside cabinet, and set them on his nose. Seeing more clearly now, he climbed out of his bed and shakily walked over to the window.

The stars were bright tonight, plastered on a midnight blue background of sky. Harry's lips curled in the smallest of smiles at the beauty of the sky. He forgot he was at Privet Drive, he forgot what his future was; he forgot everything to do with himself when he looked up at it. The sky was freedom from all the problems down at ground level, and that was a haven that he constantly seeked.

Having calmed himself down successfully, Harry turned away from the window. He squinted in the darkness looking at the small clock that was ticking on top of his bedside cabinet. 1:43 was what it read.

Harry shook his head, he knew that that was definitely no time to be getting up at, and that he would have to go back to sleep. But once he did what would he see? He didn't want to see images of his past anymore, he lived through it once, wasn't that enough?

Apparently it wasn't, for as he settled back down to sleep the dreams begun again. They pulled Harry on a warped tour of his past and his rather villainous imagination.

The following morning had not come soon enough for Harry. Who had tossed and turned in a restless sleep for the remainder of the night.

He woke up tired and emotionally drained from having to relive the horrifying, memories of his past.

Harry quickly took a shower and changed Hedwig's water before heading down to the kitchen for a spot of breakfast, though he wasn't sure if he could hold it down.

Breakfast was a tense and silent affair that morning. The warning the order had given the Dursley's just yesterday afternoon, had not seemed to affect the way the household ran all too much.

Harry was still given the chores, and they still treated him like a piece of dirt, bit more or less the verbal lashings had stopped. Not that this new tense silence was much better.

It was easily said by the deepening purple colour of Vernon's face that he was bursting to scream at him, but was trying his best to contain himself. He did not want any 'freaks' showing up on their doorsteps; one was enough.

Harry ate a piece of dried toast, which was all he was able to manage at the moment. He put his plate in the sink and started to walk out the kitchen, when Uncle Vernon loudly called him back.

'BOY!'

'Yes, Uncle Vernon?' Harry answered, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back the glare he wished he could shoot at his uncle.

'Mr. Finn will be expecting you to arrive at 1:00 this afternoon, and if I hear of any freakish hocus pokey, mark my words boy, you'll regret it,' Vernon said, the threat made clear in his voice.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, and headed out of the kitchen. He has forgotten for a moment that he was to be helping the new neighbor out in the afternoon, thanks to uncle Vernon.

He knew now exactly why he had been introduced to the elderly gentleman when he usually he was hidden from the neighbors at all costs. If he was at Mr. Finn's then he wasn't here, and that was the way the Dursley's –and himself- liked it.

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At one o'clock that afternoon, Harry left #4 Privet Drive and took a right before entering through the gate of #6; Mr. Finn's house.

He looked up at the house that was very similar to the Dursley's and sighed. He hoped that this was going to better than his time spent at #4, but he didn't hold his breath; he didn't want another let down.

After standing outside for about a minute, he walked up to the front steps where a welcome mat had been placed, well at least that were one step up from the Dursley's.

He knocked twice on the glass door, and waited for someone to come open it up for him.

'Come in,' he heard someone call faintly from inside.

Harry grasped the doorknob and turned it, successfully opening the door. A wisp of cool air past over him, as he came to stand-in the small hallway.

He looked around to see many shoes and coat hooks lining the walls. The walls themselves were a warm creamy colour, and a teal floral rug was spread over the camel carpeting. It was elegant in its own rights, but you could definitely tell the home belonged to an elderly person.

'Hello?' Harry called out into the silence.

'Through here boy, leave your shoes by the door. Don't want any mud trekking through the house,' he heard Mr. Finn reply to his call.

He did as the man had asked. Leaving his trainers by the door, he came through to what appeared to be the living room. It was dressed in a similar fashion to hallway.

Taking a quick glance around, Harry noticed several things that made this house different from the Dursley's. For one, the pictures on the walls were those of different airplanes and many black and white photos of what appeared to be Mr. Finn's family. A birdcage sat in the corner, and in it held a small yellow budgie that was currently flying about its confined area. The very air itself seemed more homelike to any Harry had breathed in at #4. These weren't the only difference the house had, he was sure, though they were the most noticeable.

'Do you approve?' Mr. Finn asked good-naturedly.

Harry turned around, and spotted Mr. Finn sitting in an armchair by the window. He was sipping a cup of tea, and munching on some Jacob's crackers. Harry nodded his head, not knowing if he should speak.

Setting his teacup down, Mr. Finn said, 'sit, sit please'

Already this muggle had shown him more kindness hen any other, with the exception of the grangers. Harry sat down on a beige coloured sofa that was left of the chair Mr. Finn occupied.

'Now then we best be getting ourselves introduced, shan't we? Name's Julius Finn, horrible first name in my opinion. Blame me mum for it… dear lady she was with a horrible sense in names… bless her. You can call me Finn though, most people do,' Finn said cheerily.

Harry looked at the man in front of him, stunned. Was this the same grumpy man he'd met last night? No, definitely not!

Apparently his shock and confusion could be read on his face. For Finn quickly explained himself and eased Harry's mind.

' I noticed quite quickly last night, that your uncle is quite hard on you, and I know enough about a household like that to know when to swap scripts,' Finn spoke.

Harry's face reddened at this statement, he hated that topic being brought up. To him not being able to stand up to his uncle's abuse was a great weakness, one that wouldn't help him anywhere in life.

'Not to worry my boy. Now I didn't catch your name?' Finn spoke curiously.

'Um…its Harry…Harry Potter… but uh you can just call me Harry… sir' Harry stuttered out.

Finn smiled, his face wrinkling up more then it already did. 'Well then Harry, what say we get to know each other hmm?'

'Er… I thought I was supposed to be working?' Harry said quietly and uncertainly.

'Yes there will be time for that later, for now let us talk,' Finn said.

Waving away talk of work, he began telling Harry all about himself.

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Finn spent the next three hours telling Harry stories of his many years.

He told him about how when he was growing up, during world war two, times had been difficult. There were times when he and his family had only fried tulip and crocus bulbs to eat, and other times when he was allowed to very little if he were to stay safe.

This made Harry wonder how the children were going to be affected by the approaching war in the wizarding world. How bad was it going to get before the end?

Finn told him how his father had been killed early on in the war, flying planes over Germany. He also mentioned that two out of his three brothers had died since then of old age and illness. His only surviving siblings now were a younger sister and an older brother, both whom lived in other parts of Europe with their families.

He told Harry stories of his adventures with his brothers and sister. All the mischief they had gotten up to, the pranks they had played on unsuspecting victims. Finn revealed that the only prank he had ever failed at was one he tried playing on his sister. He explained how he had rigged up a contraption that would have chocolate pudding dumped on her head. She of course had found out what her brother had in store and had turned the tables on him. She was a smart little witch he said with laughter.

Harry laughed to, for the first time in a while. The man's spirit and passion when he talked seemed to affect anyone in the room. Harry would bet that even the slimy potions master would smile in the man's presence.

The stories he was listening to were not only interesting, but quite refreshing from all the horrible and torturing war stories the senior order members had told Harry. These ones for the most part were jovial.

Finn was quite a character. He was someone, Harry thought, who knew how to enjoy life in a way that few knew how. He had no care for hiding in his past, nor driving for his future. He was there and then, an in the moment type of man.

In Finn's presence, Harry had momentarily forgotten all about his problems with the prophecy and grief. He felt like a new person, one not with the past that should belong to someone far older than him, or a person with a daunting future.

Finn, himself had realized a few things quite quickly when he had met Harry Potter the previous night. For one, His eyes told more then what Harry himself might tell you. Two, this boy had a stubborn personality and an air of determination about him. And finally, this boy had the scar on his forehead, a lightening bolt, one that was legend.

Disclaimer: You Think I'M J.K. ROWLING? YOU'RE NUTTERS! I DON'T OWN ANY OF WHAT YOU RECOGNISE!

A.N. please note some lines in this chapter were direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by: J.K ROWLING.

Just a quick post: I'm back, I know I have been away for too long and have probably left many of you disappointed with no updates, but school had me running on edge as well as the real world. This is my new story and I will be running with this for a while so those who wanted updates on other stories well ill get there but I'm kind of going through a long editing phase with them, I need to find out where their heading. So in the mean time I hope you all enjoy this one!

Cheers

And please forgive me

Petroleumjellydotone!