Disclaimer : I do not clain any rights to Harry Potter.

Harry is not canon, this fiction takes place after the fifth book with no reference to the sixth or seventh books.

Incentive - Chapter One

The sun was setting. Harry swing gently in the breeze staring at the horizon, thinking very little but just existing in that moment. His scuffed trainers trailed in the dust as the sling slowed to a halt, his long legs dangling over the edge of the seat. His fingers loosened their grip on the cold metal of the chain and he straightened upright. Unsure as to why he moved but certain he was bored of the swing. The light had grown dim and he knew that it was time to go back to the Dursley's house. Harry had been abandoned at 4 Privet Drive again, he had resigned himself to a summer with them as by now he had come to the conclusion that throwing tantrums just made Dumbledore more resolute that he was a volatile boy that had to be hidden for his own safety. Harry had little to say to Dumbledore after Sirius was murdered and his prophesy had been revealed, he had seen a cunning manipulative side to the old headmaster that few would admit to themselves. In Harry's eyes Dumbledore had effectively signed the death warrant on Sirius' name, everyone knew a caged dog wont play good. Harry had little wish to be pulled under the overwhelming image of Albus Dumbledore, or to fight for his decidedly weak Order of the Phoenix ranks. Knowledge was power and Harry was well aware he knew very little of importance.

As he approached the drive he saw the ghostly flicker of the television from between the curtains. "From tomorrow we can expect further sunshine in the west with showers moving from the North…" said the happy weather reporter wearing an amusing knitted jumper with a bright yellow sun on the chest. "Just like Mrs Weasley's jumpers" thought Harry distantly as he pushed open the door. The house was quiet as if the television had been left on by accident. There were no sounds of Dudley's computer games or Vernon's blaring radio. Harry tensed his feet moving so he walked silently through the door. The house seemed different, the shadow of the street light spilling onto the mauve carpet. Small signs alerted Harry and made his heart race. The blind was still up in the kitchen, the cups set out for tea and no sound of Dudley stamping about upstairs. Silence hung heavily in the air, Harry himself too scared to make a sound as if he would disturb it. He turned and spotted a note tacked to the living room door, Welcome Home, Harry Potter. Harry pulled it off crumpling it in his fist and pulled out his wand. He pressed his palm against the wooden door to the living room and pushed it slowly open, wincing at the slight squeak the un-oiled hinges made in protest. His eyes fell on his uncle, lying sagged against the sofa with his glassy eyes staring and his fat mouth slack. The round hole in his forehead betraying his death. Harry stood at the door way, just looking; he stood as if pausing for a rest. his mind numb. "I could almost fit a finger into that bullet hole" he thought distantly. Harry turned around and walked slowly to the kitchen as if he'd merely found his uncle watching football. A quick glance and he found Petunia propped in the wash room, a heavy bruise across her left eyes and a sliced throat, the stain of blood moving across her lilac dress. "There was no sign of a struggle" mused Harry, "They must have came from behind her and done it swiftly, effectively." Crouching down Harry noted that the blood was a fresh red, meaning that the Dursley's had been attacked maybe just before his arrived, obviously after dinner since the dishes had been put away, probably just before Emmerdale as Petunia prepared their tea. Later he found Dudley slouched over his computer, blood seeping into the keys and dripping onto the floor. Harry stood at stared for a short minute unsure what to do now he had found the bodies of everyone in the Dursley family. Voldemort had found him but hadn't killed him. He had left a bloody message in the form of his family killed by muggle means to scare him, to let him know that he wasn't safe. Harry found it ironic they hadn't died the painless and quick death through the Killing Curse that his parents had been afforded. He bit down a weak smile, patted Dudley once on the back and strode from the room.

By the time he'd reached his room urgency had gripped Harry,something snapped inside all he knew was that he had to leave the house now! He tore to the tiny desk in the corner and ripped up a piece of parchment. Grabbing the nearest quill Flying through the door He tore to the tiny desk in the corner and ripped up a piece of parchment. Grabbing the nearest quill he scribbled a small note:

Dursley's have been murdered by Voldemort. I'm leaving the house.

Harry Potter

He tied the small note to Hedwig's leg, "Hedwig, take this to Grimmauld Place immediately, stay there for a few days then find me, o.k?" he said stroking the owl, she turned her head and nipped him gently in the hand before taking off into the dusk sky.

He started stuffing his books into his trunk, including all other essential items like his Marauder's map and his invisibility cloak. Grabbing the phone in his aunt's room he phoned a taxi to take him to the nearest station, his voice stayed steady but his hand shook slightly as he set the phone on the receiver with the promise of a car in a few minutes. He dragged his trunk downstairs, went in to the living room and closed the curtains, ignoring the body of his uncle and kept the television then moved onto the kitchen and raided the cupboards for food in case of an emergency. It wasn't that he didn't care that they were dead, it was just that he was so used to just dealing with blow after blow and just getting on with it, dealing with things like death had become second nature to the 15 year old. He paused when his eyes fell on a kitchen knife. A wand wouldn't do him any good for the next month until he turned 16, what else did he have for protection apart from his speed? A car horn interrupted his train of thought and he shoved the knife into his rucksack. Harry dragged his trunk out to the car and with the help of the taxi driver he loaded it into the trunk. The man was a little rounded with thinning brown hair and a wrinkly face, "Where you off today then lad?" he asked eyeing the skinny pale boy before him. Harry used his best excited teenager voice, "I'm going to visit my girlfriend in Bristol", and coupled with a lop-sided grin the taxi driver questioned nothing. Harry climbed into the backseat and idly chatted to the driver, thinking over his best plan of action in the back of his mind. The Dursley's bodies would be discovered eventually and make no mistake the blame would be pinned on the disgruntled damaged nephew who happened to be the only survivor. Harry also knew that the minute Dumbledore heard of this he'd whisk him into prison-like hiding before Harry could find a change of boxers. There had been little communication between Harry and the wizarding world as of late, Hermione and Ron would be hidden with their respective families and no-one else bothered to get in contact with him. The war was still raging but for Harry it was muted and Dumbledore was definitely not going to let him in the know anytime soon. Except Voldemort had finally pulled him into it, he had taken the first move. This was a chance for him to take control of his life and finally act against the monster who had played such a massive part of his life. He could be his own person, independent and unregulated, free to learn magic that will help him and play his own part in this chess game of politics and murder. But in the meantime Harry ran his hand through his mussed hair and glanced out at the darkening streets. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do?

Harry stood on the platform. He didn't have a passport and he didn't really have a plan. The distant clangs of trolleys and the mild smell of oil surrounded Harry as he stood motionless hand in one pocket, more than a little stumped as to what to do. Should he head up North or South? He had money of course; Harry had the sense to keep a stash of sterling in the case of emergencies, until now he didn't think he'd need it. Finally we wheeled his trolley over to the booking office, accidentally colliding with the red-brick wall earning him a dark frown from the office worker behind the glass window.

"Uh I'm sorry, but could you tell me when the next train to London leaves?" he asked, feeling the disapproval radiating from the man with a thickset jaw staring at him,

"That would be in 10 minutes, sir" the man curtly replied, Harry instantly fished out some of his money from his back pocket of his very baggy jeans, "How much?"

Harry settled into a small corner after, with the help from a porter, pushing his trunk into the bracket above him. He pressed himself against the soft seat and tried to settle his shaking hands. He had been chewing on his lips so much he could taste blood in his mouth and suddenly his stomach lurched. Clamping one hand to his mouth he grabbed the complimentary travel sickness bag and threw up until his stomach was empty, tears streaming down his face from the effort. A porter had appeared at his side and was rubbing his back comforting him. He set the bag aside, using the back of his hand he wiped stray tears running down his cheeks away and gave a weak smile,

"Thanks, I just got really travel sick really quickly, it usually isn't this bad but I forgot to take my tablets" he lied quickly, with another weak smile to reassure the woman that he was ok. A few people were not so subtly watching him interestedly from the seats around him, but Harry ignored them. "May I have a drink please? I need to clear my mouth." He asked the lady politely, he concerned frown easing slightly, "Of course sir" she replied before shooting a clear warning look at the other passengers to stop being so rude. The boy couldn't be older that 17 and he looked as pale as a ghost. Five minutes later Harry was sitting with a blanket, a back up sick bag and a hot sugary cup of tea clasped between his hands. His trembling had calmed to a mild twitchiness and his stomach had settled for a mild gurgling every so often. The rhythm of the coach comforted him, soothing him by the repetition that it would just keep going until they got to London. Right now he didn't need to think about anything else but sitting right there in his seat.

The train pulled into the station late at night, yet there was still small crowds of late arriving tourists moving out and onwards into London. Harry had been woken gently from sleep by the kind porter and was now standing on another platform trying to decide what to do. "I need to find somewhere to stay for the night, I can't use magic or they'll find me" Harry's thoughts raced. His body was tired and the adrenaline that had kept him going was starting to wear off. He looked too suspicious, a young skinny boy standing alone in a station with an ancient trunk. He quickly shoved a bar of chocolate into his mouth to sate his hunger and grabbed his trunk and set off towards the exit. "I'll find a B&B for tonight and in the morning I'll look for somewhere muggle to stay." Outside he hailed a taxi, he felt really stupid waving his hand to traffic in a technique he'd only seen on television. Once in the back seat he gasped "Know any decent places to stay around here?" to the driver who looked at him in the mirror, "Plenty 'bout here, depends on your budget" clearly suggesting he thought that any one who dressed like Harry couldn't afford much. Harry shrugged. "My flight's been rescheduled for the morning, somewhere in the middle will be great."

A few days later Harry had found a small flat that he could rent for the summer and longer if he wished. The owners were an elderly couple who had bought the apartment for a daughter, who had promptly decided that she wanted to be a model in America, so they decided to rent it out. When they had first met the young man with shaggy black hair who wanted to be a tenant, they had been a little suspicious. He was young, looked pale and underfed yet he had money and wanted to pay in cash. Eventually his sheer vulnerability and manners had won them over. His story had been that his parents had died when he was a child, left him his inheritance and he had recently turned 18 and decided to find a new life in London, who would they be to deny him his dream? So Peter Millar was given the keys.

After a few days staying in a perfectly comfortable B&B Harry decided it was time to find something more permanent. He bought a few newspapers and found a suitable single bed roomed flat let out by a lovely old couple. A quick change of alias and an improvised story later he was lying on his new bed. In the space of a few days his family was dead; he'd fled the scene, moved to London, changed his name and rented a flat. He wasn't crippled with grief; he had never loved his family, all his felt was neutrality. He did have a pang of sadness at the death of a fellow human being but nothing that would cause him to slip into depression about. The death of Sirius still hung heavily in his mind but he had enough sense to realize that Sirius would beat him black and blue if he moped about over him. However at present this suddden change in his life was frankly liberating and at the moment Harry's head was spinning trying to comprehend it all. His flat was simple but suitable for his needs, simple modern decorations coupled with all the amenities. All he had to do was go grocery and clothes shopping. Experiences that were very much alien to him. In a few weeks time he would be 16 and although unable to practice magic outside of school he was determined to find a way past that barrier. He needed to get access to his vaults, Sirius' and his parents' wills, buy and obtain books so he could start learning magic otherwise withheld from him. Long ago he realised that Wingardium Leviosa wouldn't be much help when in battle with Lord Voldemort and running away couldn't save him forever, not that he was very fit in the first place. Voldemort had already found him which meant that time was running out, he couldn't keep hiding behind Dumbledore and Hogwarts, the world isn't so peachy in reality. The more he thought about it the more he wondered why he hadn't been prepared more, it was obvious that he'd been a marked boy since a baby but nothing had been done about it. It was as if he was expected to survive through a dab of luck and maybe some supernatural power. "I can't believe it took me this long to get out of there. Now I've escaped under no circumstances are they taking me back again, I will not be hidden from reality" thought Harry determination rising in him, "I will not go down without a fight."

Well that was my first chapter in about 3 years... I'm very nervous about it. Thanks for stopping by :D If anyone is interesting in becoming a Beta for this fic please send me a message.