Harry Potter was not satisfied after the war. He had a deep hole in his soul that he felt could never be mended. What was his purpose now? His relationship with Ginny failed after he caught her cheating with another man on their anniversary. How could he possibly live with himself knowing that he was a murderer but everyone looked up to him for it? It didn't make sense. How could they not see that he didn't want to be praised? He felt filthy. Bile rose up in his throat as he remembered the desperate wails of the death eaters as they killed them without mercy. Were they no better than the people that followed the dark lord? These questions ran through his head as he got ready for the next day. Harry Potter was after all a very important man and he had many errands that he had to do. He had people he needed to meet, places he needed to be. He couldn't spend all day pondering over this. Yet, these pestering thoughts bothered him all day. Was he really nothing more than a murderer? No, it couldn't be. He killed the dark lord and saved many people. But that's just it. The dark lord could have been defeated in a different manner, couldn't he have? Did he really have to kill him? And the question that bothered him the most involved his 'savior'. If Dumbledore knew how terrible his aunt was, why did he send him to live there of all places? Surely he could have lived in a much safer environment. He could have died of hypothermia in the state that he was left in on that porch. And what would have become of him if the Dursley's decided not to take him in and instead sent him off to an orphanage. These questions would plague him until he finally decided that he had enough of London and moved to Washington in a little town called Forks. It was a very strange name for a town but it was quiet either way, and what Harry wanted most was a peaceful and quiet life. Fate, however, had much different plans for her favorite little boy.