Hello Everyone. I am sorry that it took so long to update, but I have school and Kevin (my Dad) makes me see a shrink, blah blah blah. Anyway, you get the idea. I have been busy and dealing with some issues. Not to mention homework. But I am trying to update as soon as possible, but you know how life is. Nothing ever seems to go the way you want it or planned it. But I am trying. Just please be patient. And I would like to officially thank these people for the inspirational, motivating, and suggestive reviews:

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Thank you again for the reviews and please give me more. When I get reviews, I find myself jumping into a chapter just because I want to please my readers and hear that I did a good job.

Harry didn't even grimace as the disgusting potion went down his throat. Nor did he flinch when the pain in his eyes started. The pain was intense, like something was behind his eyes and ripping them in towards his head. But it was nothing compared to some of the things he had felt. But eventually the pain went away as if it had never been there. He slipped off his glasses and looked around the room. His vision was perfect. Thank god. He didn't know how much longer he would have been able to stand glasses. All they did was get in the way. Especially on the battlefield. And as many fights as he got in he couldn't really afford that kind of disadvantage.

Harry massaged his temples in an attempt to relieve the oncoming headache. He had so many things to do and plan before he could really put things into motion. He sighed and went to stand in front of the mirror. He looked a lot better without glasses, especially those bulky round spectacles that he used to wear. He remembered Tonks had once told him that his eyes were so intense without glasses that she couldn't stand to look him in the eyes. Not that anyone else could either. By that time people had been so afraid of him that they didn't even want to see a picture of him.

Harry turned away from the mirror and went over to his trunk. He was very proud of it. It was a lot like the one he would have had in the future. There was a first compartment that had little security and held mostly objects of no value. It was mainly there to fool others into thinking that was all there was to the trunk. The other compartments you would be lucky to be able to blow up much less open.

The second compartment held a moderate kitchen with wizard and muggle appliances. Everything was done in stainless steel and the floor was made of black marble. The kitchen itself was elegant but at the same time it screamed ordinary. A very abstract contradiction.

The third compartment was an expertly done master bedroom. The themes were black and silver. The bed and wardrobe were made of intricately carved ebony depicting dragons flying and bellowing fire at invisible enemies. The bathroom was done in a warm crimson color with a black tiled floor. There was a large open shower and a large bath.

The fourth compartment was a library that at the moment was hardly existent. The fifth compartment was a study and the sixth was a potions lab. The seventh compartment was a lab for his many other experiments while the eighth compartment was a dueling chamber.

Harry went into the fifth compartment that was his study and grabbed a couple of the blank books and some quills and ink. Though he was pretty good at potions, he was so much better at spell crafting and arithmancy. But that wasn't really saying much. Because of the war many people had to become practical experts in potions. It was so bad that before he died even Ron could brew a polyjuice potion like a master. Harry mainly created his eye healing potion out of luck, a lot of research, and his abstract ideas when it came to brewing.

But his potions had been nothing compared to the ones Hermione had created. But she wasn't actually a potions master. Most of the things she created came from research and knowing how certain ingredients reacted with each other. But Harry knew that if she had been given the chance, Hermione could have achieved a mastery. Besides, almost anyone who did enough research could make a new potion; there were just so few people who actually did. That was the reason there wasn't as many potions now. Most of the potions that had ever been developed had been because they were so terribly needed at the time.

Currently Harry was working on a way to block the killing curse. He had decided to put a hold on the werewolf cure for the time being considering it would take more than just a potion to achieve a cure. The more he worked on it the more he realized it would take a ritual to create the effects and rituals were a complicated piece of magic. One that would take a while to complete.

So far his spell to block the killing curse was coming along well. There was only one problem. Not just anyone could cast the spell. Your magical core had to be at least above average to even contemplate casting it as it took so much energy. Luckily, most people's magical cores could be stretched and made larger if they were simply "exercised" regularly. But, if he were to guess, he would say that it would take at least another nine months to complete the spell and test it of course.

After about two hours Harry put down his spell crafting journals and decided to do something else. Concentrating on one subject could really hinder a person and Harry would allow himself no such disabilities.

Though Harry had learned an incredible amount of knowledge during and after the war, there was so much that he didn't know. Since Voldemort had declared war on everyone a lot of knowledge had been lost. To say Harry had been disappointed would be an understatement. After the war he had quickly found love in the arts and, of course, learning all there was to know about magic. And some things that weren't known. He had also gotten into a habit that when there wasn't a spell for something, he would create one. Perhaps his most prided accomplishment.

Harry looked at the clock to find that it was almost noon, meaning he should go start lunch soon. And lunch, meant that Aunt Marge was coming. Happy Day.

He was just putting the last plate on the table when he heard the car pull into the drive-way. The Dursley's had gone to pick up Marge from the airport. Harry took a deep breath. He was already thinking bad thoughts and green lights. It would be so easy to just shut Marge up forever. Unfortunately, it was never that easy. Nope. Not when you're Harry bloody Potter.

Harry decided that he did not want to be present when Marge came barging in with her fat ass and that despicable little mutt that she had ironically named Ripper. It wouldn't do for him to loose his temper this early on in the game. Regardless of the fact that he would rather just slit her throat and be done with it, he would be better off if he stayed his hand for the time being. Besides, once Voldemort returned it wouldn't take much to convince everyone they had been the tragic victims of "unfortunate" circumstance. Or just another routine Death Eater raid. It depended on what he felt like that day.

Harry ran up the stairs and slipped into his room. He didn't want to be down there and have Marge try to make him bring in her luggage. Not that he would. Just because he wasn't giving in to his desires to rid the earth of her ugly mug didn't mean he was going to be nice to her. In fact, if he were to hazard a guess, in the next few days, people would hardly dare to call him civil.

Five Days. Five long, dreadful, excruciating days. Five days full of Marge degrading Harry and his parents. Five days of Harry constantly biting his lip, pinching himself, and punching random things to keep from doing something that though he might not regret, would seriously hinder him. And he couldn't afford that.

Harry sighed. It had been what, five...six days? And already he was going crazy. Harry closed his sketch book and walked over to the window. He pressed his forehead against the window pane and stared out without really seeing anything. A seer. It was always him wasn't it? He was glad he was a seer, in a way. Being a seer was kind of like a double edged sword. By knowing what he did, he could prevent so many deaths and make a lot of people happy, but...the burden it gave himself. It was like he was dying inside, screaming, and nobody knew...nobody could hear his cries. If there was one thing he was certain of, the memories, the saddness... it would all kill him long before Voldemort did.

It had all been killing him before, but now... The guilt was eating at him. Knowing that it was him that had killed all of them, that would have killed them all. Their blood was on his hands. Wether they knew it or not, he had killed them, and it was now killing him. He used to could ignore it, push it away. But not anymore. Every night was plauged with nightmares, every day with dreadful phantoms... terrible pains and ghosts that he had thought he was long rid of.

But he couldn't let it effect him. He was a seer for a reason. It was his job, his duty to help these people. To make sure that their lives were not constantly in sorrow. To make sure they were happy, that they had good, long lives. To make sure all those children grew up actually knowing their parents. That husbands and wives were not out there wondering if there lover would return home that day.

Being as strong as he was, he only needed a few hours of sleep a week. Though he tried to sleep everynight most of the time. A force of habit, if nothing else. He could only imagine what he would look like if he actually needed as much sleep as normal people. Awful, for sure. Like Death, he mused. His lips twisted into a wry smile that held no humor, before giving way to grimace. That was what he was. Death. Death to everyone else. Death to himself. Because that was what he was doing. Killing himself with these thoughts.

Harry gave another sigh causing the window to fog up slightly. A concerned hoot brought him from his musings. He turned to Hedwig, his ever faithful owl. How he had missed her. He smiled lightly and walked over to the bed post were she was perched.

"Don'y worry girl." He told her softly while stroking her feathers tenderly.

" I'm fine. We'll be out of here soon, girl. And we'll never have to come back here. How does that sound?"

Hedwig's only answer was a soft coo as she snuggled in to his hand. Harry simply stood there with a soft look on his face as he continued to stroke Hedwig lovingly. He really did love Hedwig. She was like a best friend. Always there, always listneing to him - even when he didn't make much sense.. But it wasn't long before Harry realised he shouled start dinner. Tonight was the night that he was leaving. He had already packed everything. All he had to do was grab everything and go.

Harry swept down the stairs and prepared dinner. Tonight would be his last night at the Dursley's. At least until he decided to come back with less than good intentions.

It wasn't long before the smell of food lured the Dursley's into the kitchen ready to stuff themselves, as per usual.

It wasn't long before Marge had a healthy amount of brandy in her system and she started her mouth on things that were no business of hers.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup-"

She droned on and on and the anger in Harry was starting to well up. It normally wouldn't bother Harry that much. He knew his parents were good people. It didn't matter if she did. She wasn't important. But if he was angry, it would be easier to pass off as accidental magic. Besides, being angry made it more satisfying when it happened.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out..."

"This Potter, you never told me what he did?"

"A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who-"

"They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)-"

Harry had had enough. "Shut up! Shut up you fat bitch!" he yelled. A darkness seemed to swell about him. One that promised Marge would regret what she had said.

"You don't know anything! You know nothing about my parents! You probably don't even know anything about yourself! Probably never even laid eyes on those little pig feet of yours!"

With that Harry let some of his magic leak through. Soon Marge seemed to be swelling like a fat balloon. She foated up to the ceiling and then she drifted out the open door and into the night. Vernon trying to hold onto her, but eventually slipping as Ripper bit into his ankle.

Harry ran up the stairs and grabbed his things. He was back down the stairs and out the door before the Dursley's could even form coherent thought. If they ever could form any.

Harry strolled down the road, all the way cackling insanely. He really couldn't quite stop laughing. It was beautiful, truly. That a pig like her to become a balloon. Fitting.

He finally reached Magnolia Crescent and sat on a low wall. He leaned back and looked up at the stars. He could find peace there. There in the darkness scattered among the stars. Harry spread out his senses. Sirius should be right about, there.

Harry lowered his gaze and stared out across the road and into the bushes. There he was. Harry could just make out the figure of Padfoot. In that moment Harry was filled with such a happiness that he thought he might burst. This was it. The final proof that this was all real, that it wasn't a dream. Harry showed no outward sign of his hapiness and instead beckoned the dog closer. Harry patted the stone next to him,

"Come here, boy." he called. Yes, come here. he thought.

Slowly, hesitantly, Padfoot came forward. Harry patted him softly and preceeded to scratch him under the chin.

"Hello, Sirius." He said calmly.

The dog's eyes snapped open and a dark fear crept into his eyes. There was suprise there, fear, and sadness.

"You need not worry, Padfoot. You will come to understand in time. For now, you will come with me. I should warn you though. The minister will be waiting for me at the Leaky Cauldron. I won't turn you in. But do not bring unnecessary attention to yourself."

Sirius seemed to be debating with himself before he hesitantly bobbed his head. Harry could tell he was confused. But he would have to deal with it. They didn't have time for a long and useless conversation.

Harry stuck out his wand and with a great bang a purple triple-decker bus appeared. Gold lettering on the side declaring it The Knight Bus.

Stan Shunpike stepped out of the bus and read his obviously practiced speech.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you need to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening."

Harry cut him off before he could say anything else. His voice was beginning to annoy him.

"I am aware of who you are, Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I will be going to the Leaky Cauldron, and I would prefer to not have to make any unneeded stops before I reach my destination. My dog will be riding with me."

Harry handed him a couple of galleons to make sure his orders were followed. He stepped onto the bus with Padfoot trailing behind, leaving Stan to pick up his trunk for him. Harry sat in the chair nearest the door and Padfoot stood nervously beside his feet. Stan was back on the bus in seconds after Harry had sat down.

"Take 'er away, Ern. Straight 'ta the Leaky Cauldron."

With another bang the Knight Bus sped off.

(A/N)- Again, thank you for the reviews. And please Give me some more. I love suggestions. If you have any ideas for the story, let me know. Like, What should Harry's special talent be? Maybe he can be a shape shifter, or a rune master, or something. Let me know what you all think. I want to know.

And sorry it took so long to update. I am not very quick at uploading a new chapter. It takes me awhile. For that I am sorry. But when I get reviews they make me want to get the story up faster. Keep that in mind.

Please Review.

Lady Iri