Disclaimer: Owning things is for people with money, like that J.K. Rowling lady, I hear she's pretty rich. She owns Harry Potter, which I do not in fact own. For a further list of things I do not own consult my Amazon wishlist.

~(-)~

Harry stepped into the chill night air of the London streets, to see someone he hadn't expected to see for a month yet. Dumbledore, wearing his bright purple robes, was standing in front of the apartment building. His arms were folded behind his back, as he smiled at Harry calmy. It was as if Dumbledore had expected they would meet here.

Harry must've missed the memo. He had just been booted out of the nicest home he had ever had the pleasure of living in. Harry didn't want to hear Dumbledores spiel on how family is the greatest thing on earth, and he should go be with the Dursleys. No thank you, not if they were the last troglodytes on earth.

Harry was angry he had let that incident devolve into that frantic mess. He was frustrated he didn't help sooner, that some elf had accidentally hurt his new friends (Not that they knew they were friends). He just wanted to find a place to rest for the summer. Then get ready for whatever crazy journal related shenanigans was happening at school this year.

He doubted that would be happening though. With Dumbledore here that meant his fate was decided for him, and he'd just have to wait to find out what that was. Dumbledores an acedemic though, an intelligent man. The sort that can be reasoned with. Harry would give it his best shot, but he wasn't feeling very reasonable.

"Imagine my surprise, when I received word of an underage magic infraction for a Mr. Harry James Potter. Weeks spent searching for you, when poor Mrs. Figg found you'd never come home. Only to find you with an archaic underage magic detection system. I believe there's a lesson to be learned there, never dismiss the resources we have at our disposal." Dumbledore smiled cheerily at the end.

Harry was flummoxed over this reaction. He'd expect a stern disciplinarian, ready to really dig into how poor his decision making skills are. Not a calm lecturer. Wait... something struck him as odd about that.

"You know Mrs. Figg?" Harry wondered aloud, Dumbledore only smirked in reply.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" Dumbledore asked offering his wrinkled hand.

Not seeing any reason to refuse him, Harry took his hand. After all, the more time wasted here, the more time he'd have to convince Dumbledore of his reasoning.

"Now it is my belief, that the reason you were so hard to find can be laid at the feat of that silvery cloak in your arms. But Albus I said to myself, there's no way he could be wearing his cloak all the time. It would be tedious and a hindrance to basic hygiene." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow waiting for an explanation.

"Not exactly a hindrance... I just showered late at night, but if you mean did I ever wash the cloak? No, I didn't." Harry spoke cautiously, not really sure where this was going.

"I'm relieved to hear you were at least washing yourself regularly, but were you eating well?" He smoothly changed subjects.

Harry cringed at such a babying topic. He was 11 now, practically an adult. He could see where this was going, however. Dumbledore was going to play the 'this is for your own good card' sighting Harry's less than stellar lifestyle as a need for Dursley supervision.

"I'll take your silence as a no. Can you see now why, I might want you with your family? If not for familial bonds, then at least so someone will take care of you." He spoke the reprimand in a disappointed tone.

"They were going to take my inheritance, I couldn't just let them get away with that! and they're awful people..." Harry's cheeks were red from shouting at his teacher.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment as they walked. No doubt mulling over how best to dispel Harry's viewpoint.

"If that is the case, than I must make sure they get a more accurate view of their position. They aren't in a place to make demands. You must still go back, however. Worry not, I will make sure they never attempt to steal from orphans again." Dumbledore sounded sad.

Harry was confused, if Dumbledore had even the slightest idea of what the Dursleys were like. Why would he want him to go back?

"Why would you want me to go back?" Harry demanded to know.

"Your mother killed the greatest Dark Lord of this century. Some say the greatest Dark Lord to ever walk the face of this earth. He had many ally's both hidden and known. If they could get at your relatives, a swift death would be a mercy. I enacted a pair of the strongest confounding wards I could around your home. However it's location makes setting up any permanent wards a hassle at best. There isn't a single ley line within miles of your home, in fact I believe it is the most mundane place in all of England. The wards are powered off the ambient magic you produce. Without your regular appearance, the wards will fail and your relatives will die, all in swift order." Spoke quickly and concisely, his face set into a hard frown.

"Why would I want to power wards for them? What have they ever done for me?" Harry spoke rashly.

Dumbledore paused in his steps, turning around he turned his frown towards Harry, anger and frustration visible in his posture.

"You would leave the last of your relatives to the worst of humanity? You would leave them to be tortured, mutilated, enthralled. You would see your childhood home burned to the ground, with his mark floating above the remains of what was once a happy home?" Dumbledore waited a moment for Harry's reply. When one wasn't forthcoming, he started again anger coloring his tone. "If this is how you treat family, no matter how distant or estranged... Then I mourn for whatever future family you may have." With that said, Dumbledore began striding away.

Harrys mind conjured up a picture of Marrisa and Jon when Dumbledore mentioned family. He had only known them for two weeks, but they were the very ideal he thought of when he heard family. An image of them hurt because of his actions followed it. He knew he would regret the choice even as he made it, but he'd be damned if another family got hurt because of him again.

"Wait, I'll go back to Privet Drive!" Harry shouted at Dumbledore's retreating form.

When Dumbledore turned to face him, with a small proud smile on his face, Harry knew he had made the right decision.

~(-)~

Marcus walked into his fathers office, the man was usually busy organizing the business, but he would never deny his son entry. He would bitch and whine, but always let Marcus right on through. Calling Giovonni anything that inferred familiarity, was a big no no. Sometimes Marcus would get frustrated with the subterfuge. He knew why it had to be, he just didn't like it.

Waking in to see the big man himself, put Marcus at ease. The boss could plan for anything. Giovonni was a big man not just in the metaphorical sense, although not always in a pleasant sense. His massive gut was clearly protruding well past his chest, pushing his well tailored suit to its limits. Marcus needed to come up with a way to explain what happened earlier, without coming off as mad as a hatter, or worse some kind of druggy. His father may well be the biggest pusher of illegal narcotics this side of London, but he'd be damned if his own flesh and blood started using. A lesson engraved into the scars on Marcus' back, a lesson he may well just be about to relearn.

Without looking up from his paperwork Giovonni spoke. "What is it, Marcus? Back from the rat so soon? You need me to congratulate you after every minor job and errand? Good job, now get back to work." His farther was in a foul mood, reflexive sarcasm was his usual coping mechanism.

If his father was angry already, Marcus was scared to see how he'd react to this story. Giovonni was a very practical man. He wouldn't care for excuses, especially if he thought they were bull shit. Giovonni would probably yell at him for wasting his time, maybe emphasize the point with a few hits, then send him back into the demon child's lair. Where presumably his pet grumpkin would use forks to pin him to a wall before he scooped his eyes out with spoons. Not a great way to go. Marcus had to make this convincing or die trying.

"Boss... something happened. I don't know the best way to go about explaining it without you going off on me... so..." This was much harder than Marcus originally envisioned.

Beady black eyes narrowed. A well stressed suit flexed to near breaking point as its owners voice bellowed. "Out with it! Boy!"

"Right, right. Well we went to Jon's house just like planned. We had him pinned to the table and were just about to find out where he'd hidden the money, when... Alan and Rick are dead... This is the part you wont believe. There was some small boy, called himself Harry Potter, with a cape that made 'em invisible and a little genie that could move things without touchen 'em. They killed my men, before letting me escape. I barely got away with my life." Marcus shot out the hardest part in one breath. Now he only had to wait for his beating then probable death sentence.

Giovonni sat there staring at Marcus, paper work forgotten, before getting up and grabbing his scotch and some glasses. "Close the door and sit down son. There's something you need to know." Marcus noted the fact that he called him son, something Giovonni never did.

Closing the door and sitting down, he was passed a glass of scotch. This wasn't what he was expecting. He had thought of two probable outcomes. Either his dad wouldn't believe him resulting in some harsh words and being sent back to finish the job Or his dad would believe him and they'd avoid that place like the plague. This was different from any of his expectations and it was starting to weird Marcus out.

"I know a guy, who will sell you a decanter of some stuff that will close any wounds. It heals knife and gun wounds faster than the eye can follow. I know for a fact he has more and better things that he keeps to himself. This sounds a lot like one of his type of things. A cape that lets you turn invisible would be an invaluable asset. I could end this turf war that's been bugging me in a fortnight. Because my contact wont sell me any of the good stuff and any gang that tries to rob him ends up disappear'n. I think we should procure this cape." Giovonni began typing away on his computer.

Marcus was stunned, he hadn't really thought of it as a potential resource to be exploited, just a headache to be avoided. Since such a powerful weapon was in the hands of some scrawny kid, he could easily just take it and run. No need to fight grumpkins, just avoid some knife toting child. Giovonni would probably send him and some of the boys. he could use one or two of them as a distraction then get the hell out with his new weapon.

Giovonni turned his computer screen towards Marcus. There was a picture of the kid who stabbed Rick in a student ID. Said he went to Surrey Elementary School. "This the Harry Potter you saw?" Giovonni rumbled.

"Yeah that's the little maniac." Marcus affirmed. Approaching the problem with the little devils home address, made confronting him a lot less of a death sentence. He was starting to feel, dare he say it, optimistic.

"Says here he lives at #4 Privet drive... family of 4... Alright plans coming together. Go grab some of the boys and go to this address. Take his family hostage, then make the boy pay everything he's worth and more." Giovonni smirked.

Marcus couldn't help but return it. It made him look much more like his large father. He could do this. The world was a strange place, but Marcus would grab it by the reigns and make it his bitch.

"Consider it done... Dad."

~(-)~

Arriving at Privet drive brought less fanfare than Harry had originally anticipated. Dumbledore went in and talked with them alone, before Harry was allowed in. He wasn't sure what was said, but Harry had never seen his relatives more angry when he came in. None of the expectent screaming fits and threats, just silent loathing visible underneath a heated glare.

It made Harry feel frustrated, they obviously didn't want him here. He didn't want to be here. The only question remaining was he willing to let them die, simply because it'd be more convenient to live somewhere else? The answer was so obvious he felt guilty for even having to think about it earlier. He would sacrifice a month of his life, if only because they were the last of his mothers blood. There was no better way to honor his mothers sacrifice. Still, just because he was forced to live here for a month didn't give them the right to treat him so poorly.

"Make sure you make six extra rashers of bacon for Dudders, he's a growing boy. I don't want to see a single spot of grease anywhere. Oh and when your done you can start painting the shed. We only have one month a year to get all the pounds we've spent on you back, so I need to make the most of it. I hope you didn't plan on sleeping." She was glaring at him as she talked, daring him to try and talk back.

Harry wouldn't talk back, but not out of respect. He just didn't like wasting his breath on a conversation that wouldn't be remembered until tomorrow.

"Yes aunt Petunia, I'll get started on it right away." Harry lied. He'd gotten pretty good at that, she only caught on some of the time now.

She harrumphed and walked away. If only she'd stayed a moment longer she would've seen Harry pull out a small vial and pour it into the scrambled egg mix.

As it turned out Dumbledore knew about the potion loophole to under age magic, and encouraged his studying habits. He'd encouraged it so greatly in fact, that he'd procured him an expanded pouch filled with magical reagents, and other less useful ingredients. He'd also given him some books on the subject. Dumbledore had called it a late birthday gift. Harry saw it for what it really was though, an apology for the Dursleys.

Harry had taken the olive branch and ran with it. The forgetfulness potion had been the first year final. He could brew it in his sleep now. He'd gone so far as to modify the potion as well. A reduction in the amount of magical catalyst, reduced the effectiveness enough that it wouldn't make it permanent, even with muggle tolerance for potions. Applying some of his own hair, centered the effect on himself.

Now when ever he dosed their morning breakfast, the entirety of the Dursley family would forget he existed. It was so effective they were entirely incapable of seeing him even when he stood in front of them. It was more effective than his invisibility cloak.

After finishing his only chore for the day, and tripping Dudley for the 5th time, Harry went back to learning different methods to modify existing potions. Harry felt a little sad, that the only way for him to get along with his relatives was to drug them. Well, it wasn't the only way, but it was the easiest. Harry had read about a potion called the Confidence Brew. It didn't make you confident, it made you far more capable of navigating social situations. Like going from... oh say an... introvert who spent most of his formative years locked in a closet, to television host suave. It wasn't a permanent solution, it came with lots of adverse side effects after it wore off (Headache, nausea, temporary social retardation), more of a temporary bandaid.

It might not even work. The Dursleys might hate him no matter how well he acted towards them. Some impressions are impossible to remove. Harry felt guilty about drugging them regularly, but this way was best for everyone. They get to live their lives like he wasn't here, they got protection from vengeful wizards, and Harry didn't get shat on every day. Everyone won. It just left a bad taste in Harrys mouth, not that weird social mind control potions are morally superior or anything. It's just maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty if he was only drugging himself. Forget what he said, no one wins.

Even if his plan for pacifying the Dursley hate fell through. Harry felt this was well worth his time. There was something about seeing your skill in a subject improve so drastically from what it once was. It was satisfying in a way quidditch, something he was naturally gifted at and had never improved at, simply wasn't. A month and a half ago he would never have dreamed of claiming to have any proficiency in the dreaded art. Now he could claim Potion making as one of his strengths. It was doubtful Snape would ever see it that way, but a boy could dream.

He was just about to start brewing a mood altering potion above 40 different tea light candles, when he heard muffled shouting and banging downstairs. Harry was certain something was wrong. The Dursleys would never make so much noise as to attract negative attention, they had a reputation to maintain after all. Harry crept to his door and slowly pulled it open. It was open just enough he could make out voices.

"Make sure you throw powder into every room before you enter, the brat can turn invisible." A familiar voice shouted.

Harry knew that voice, the same man who had attacked Marissa's house. How did they- Oh crap! He had given them his name! Of all the stupid decisions he could of made that was the worst. Why did he have to quote that movie! This is clearly all T.V.s fault, he should've never started watching. It turned Dudley into a dumb ass as well.

Harry took a calming breathe. For all the potential problems these men could present, they were only muggles. Muggles could easily be dealt with by a skilled wizard. Harry just needed to get a skilled wizard here. Running over to Hedwigs cage, Harry's heart dropped when he saw it was empty. She was still out delivering a letter.

It still wasn't unsalvageable, Harry was probably tougher than any wizard alive. He had taken down armed muggles and stuttering coward wizards alike. Not exactly a resume that screamed invincible, but he wasn't a helpless child. Right now the muggles were probably slowly and methodically searching every room for an invisible form. That would take some time, but Privet Drive was a small house, they'd be here soon. Still that's time to prepare.

Some of the muggles might be questioning the Durselys as to his whereabouts. The same Durselys who had no idea he existed, because he drugged them... The armed muggles would then assume they were lying... Who wouldn't know someone existed, if they'd lived together for a decade? It sounds like an obvious lie.

They might even attempt more violent methods to get the Durselys to tell the truth. Harry was their nephew and himself had thought about torturing them sometimes. Some armed thug would probably be happy to, after the first time one of his relatives opened their mouths. The Durselys were about to be tortured to death, and Harry had just recently resolved to make sure they live.

Harry grit his teeth and clenched his fists. He needed to resolve this quickly or pay the consequences. His mind flashed to Jon and Marissa's prone forms. Last time he'd hesitated, this time he wouldn't show that mercy.

Harry sprinted to his trunk while making as little noise as possible. Inside he found one of his more... lethal experiments. A potion designed to keep warm on a cold day. He'd increased the ratio of magical catalyst to mundane ingredients, hoping it would make it strong enough for Scottish winter. The fires it produced were unquenchable. The grass in that part of the Dursleys yard still hasn't regrown.

Grabbing the three vials of warming solution, his invisibility cloak, and his mincing knife Harry invisibly creeped out of his room.

"First floor clear!" A visibly masked man shouted from the base of the stairs. Harry cringed at how long it had taken him to prepare. Harry took several hurried steps back away from the top of the stairs, into a nearby room.

"Proceed to the second floor." The familiar voice replied without missing a beat. Harry stepped further away into his aunt's room.

He'd have to either ambush them or sneak past them. Ambushing them might make them threaten their hostages. Once they realized he was here, they'd simply have to order him to come out or his family would die. Sneaking past might leave his back open to attacks. Although, when has the idea of being hurt ever stopped him. He wouldn't be able to kill all of the intruders without fear of instant retribution through his relatives, but he might be able to get them out once he got downstairs.

A man entered the room, wearing a black ski mask and armed with a small pistol and a bottle of baby powder, he blocked the entire door frame with his bulk. Harry was ready for this. Harry stepped closer to the man and tossed one of his empty vials onto the floor behind him. The man tensed quickly turning and raising his gun at the noise. Harry slipped past the opening the movement made, his slim twelve year old form helping.

There was a man in each of the 4 doorframes on the upper floor, and one more on the stairs. Harry was confident he didn't even need a distraction to slip past the one on the stairs. The man was texting. Texting, while his coworkers tortured people, while he was invading a home to revenge kill a supposedly invisible 12 year old. Harry guessed today was just a Wednesday for this thug. Stepping past the distracted man, Harry's cloak brushed the skin of his man however just scratched his arm and continued texting.

The lower half of the house was empty. Harry couldn't help but feel they were underestimating him. He stepped into the kitchen, to see that his relatives were cuffed to the legs of the kitchen table, barring Dudely. There was no gratuitous torture scene. His aunt was sobbing, his uncle had been gagged to prevent screaming or more likely frothing rage outbursts. Harry assumed Dudely had gone to a friends house. The man sitting across from them was indeed the one from Marrisa and Jon's house.

Harry just needed to distract or dispose of this man silently and he could get his relatives out of here. Stepping into the room, harry heard a loud cracking noise. Looking down he could see the floor was covered in crackers, of all things. Harry cursed his luck, and quickly backpedaled. The man stood and threw a bag of flour into the air which unfurled raining the powder all over the kitchen and onto his cloak.

"Sorry, Harry my boy, but the jig is up. Why don't you have a seat." He patted the chair next to him.

Harry was indecisive, the man hadn't started threatening his relatives lives yet, but that didn't mean he wouldn't kill them if Harry didn't do as he asked. Harry could very clearly see the gun in his left hand.

"Or stand, suit yourself. I was just having the most enlightening conversation with your aunt here." His aunt sobbed louder in response. "Your Uncle wasn't so helpful. He's under the impression you don't exist, funny that. She and I were talking and she had the most delightful storys about your childhood. Some of the things she described doing to you made me doubtful she was even being fully honest with me. I thought I'd have to teach her a lesson on the virtues of honesty, but then I remembered how my bullets had struck you and Alan had hit you yet you remained unmarked. At the time I had thought my bullet maybe only grazed you and Alan always had a weak arm." He stopped a moment to light a cigarette and take a drag.

Harry didn't know how she could still remember him. Maybe she has a higher tolerance to magic than either her son or husband. Perhaps due to years spent around Harry's mother. Maybe she didn't eat the eggs. He couldn't be certain, he didn't watch her eat.

"Well I wasn't exactly thinking much at the time, but after I made excuses. I tried to explain away this." He waved his hands at the powder hanging in the air on Harry's form. "I realize now that this is just the way the world works. I should make the most of it. You know an unkillable man would make a killing as a career criminal. Throw in your cloak and you'd be untouchable. Nothing to say? Come on I feel like I'm talking to myself here." His aunt made an even more hysterical sob. "No one asked you lady. If you want, I'll even let you kill her. I know you want to, after all the shit she's put you through. I could show you the ropes, on how to torture someone. It's a simple but hard balancing act, between the promise of pain and actual torture. People are hurt more with just the promise of torture, but it needs to backed up with real torture or the threat will lose all sincerity. Too much actual torture and they black out or get used to the constant lnflux of pain." Vernon tried his best to escape his bondage, at the implied torture, from the man who he presumably viewed as talking to himself.

Harry was shocked he felt tempted to accept the mans offer. Not of torture, that was petty and stupid. He was tempted by a life of crime with simply him and his cloak. He'd spent the month prior living in someone else apartment stealing food everyday. Would stealing for a living really be that different? Sure he'd have to deal with men like this to sell his illegally obtained goods, but the freedom might be worth it. No one to tell him who to live with, no responsibility, no dealing with peoples bull shit. No... magic.

No magic. He would be forced to give up his heritage, never to go to Hogwarts again. Not in a million years, not for all the gold in the world. Freedom was nice and all, but every life has its share of problems and setbacks. He'd settle for the problems he knew, asshole relatives included.

"Sure, show me how its done." Harry walked to closer to the man, slipping a vial out of his pocket. A vial he had used just earlier that day for breakfast. A potion still infused with one of his hairs.

The man pulled out a knife from his waist. Harry couldn't believe he was buying this. Harry's pulled his cloak off of himself smiling friendly like. The man smiled in return flipping his knife around and handing it to Harry handle first. Harry reached for the handle, but with his other hand threw the vial at the mans chest. It smashed apart, the clear liquid inside splashing the mans neck and face.

"Ugh, what the hell is this shit... Wait... Why the fuck am I here again?" The man spoke while trying to wipe away the liquid.

Muggles really had no tolerance for potions. Even skin contact was enough to get an adverse reaction, although Harry had used a bottle that would've lasted him the rest of the month... for three different people... Perhaps Harry had overdosed the man, but he would consider it a boon if this man would never know who he was again.

"Second floor clear!" Someone shouted from the second floor.

Harrys eye's widened, his heart pace increased. He had forgotten all about the men upstairs. This one may never be able to see Harry, but the others wouldn't share that disability. Harry doubted they'd be kind enough to let Harry close enough to dose them as well. Soon they'd be down here and apprehend him with his family. He needed to hurry and get out of here.

"Wilkins is that you? Do you know why were here?" The man shouted as he marched out of the room.

Harry raced over to his relatives. The ropes and gag tying Vernon up were easily removed with the mincing knife, but his leg was still handcuffed to the table. Harry reached into his pouch and pulled out his version of the warming solution. Just a drop of it melted through the handcuff chain like butter, then proceeded to fall to the tile and continue burning. Vernon rose confused as to why he was suddenly free, while Harry ran over to Petunia and freed her as well.

Harry could see the fire he had just accidentally lit, had already spread to the wall. Harry knew from his experience in the backyard that nothing short of time could put out the liquid once it ignited.

His relatives were already hobbling out the back door as he finished putting his potion away. Harry wouldn't put it past a man, like the one who invaded his home, to kill his relatives in the middle of the street simply because they saw him. Harry needed to delay them as long as possible for his relatives.

He stepped out of the smoke filled kitchen, into the hall, and at the base of the stairs. Harry donned his fathers cloak, ready to make his stand. To make certain his relatives survived this trial. Harry could hear muffled voices above, probably from one of the bedrooms. The voices turned to shouting as the first bits of smoke came rising up to them.

A door slammed open, It's occupants racing towards the stairs like a stampede. The man in front was a familiar face, it was the texting man. Only when they were halfway down did Harry chuck his first Vial of warming solution. It caught the man in the face liquid exploding outward, his face immediately burst into flames. He screamed the scream of the dying and attempted to beat the flames out. A foolish endeavour, Harry knew because he'd tried the same. The liquid splashed mostly onto the walls and ceiling, alighting their only escape route

The man behind him raised his gun firing at the base of the stairs. Several bullets hit Harry as he pulled away, back into the kitchen. They were of such lower calibre, compared to the first time he'd been shot, that his body barely even jerked. He was just lucky none of the bullets hit the other two vials of warming solution, though.

"That'll teach you not to text, while lives are being destroyed!" Harry shouted from the smoky kitchen.

He decided his relatives were probably safe by now. Harry stepped back into the hallway, just behind the burning corpse that had rolled down the stairs and threw the rest of his vials onto the stairs.

He ran out the front door, and saw most of the neighborhood was watching the smoking house. Harry could hear sirens in the distance signaling approaching fire trucks. Harry had never felt more proud, he had saved lives.

A loud crack echoed throughout the neighborhood. Harry raised his mincing knife for whatever else today threw at him. Dumbledore appeared in front of Privet drive, his very countenance screaming danger. Harry lowered his knife in response to the friendly arrival.

Taking off his cloak, Harry walked up to Dumbelore and spoke. "I can explain, no one got hurt. I saved their lives, just like you said I should."

Dumbledore's eyes softened when they found Harry's unharmed form. His wand was still out but he lowered it. Then a burning man jumped out of the second story window.

Dumbledores eyes widened at the sight. Dumbledore brought his wand back up spun it around his head three times. All the fire was sucked out of the burning building, quickly flowing into a ball of flames above Dumbledores head. Dumbledore twisted his wrist and the ball disappeared with a pop.

Harry was astonished at the feat of magic. Nothing he had tried could put out those flames, and here Dumbledore could put out a whole building full of them with barely any movement.

"Harry when I asked, if you would see your childhood home burned to the ground. It wasn't a suggestion..." Dumbledore said while staring at the twitching body of the previously burning window jumper.

~(-)~

AN:

As a thank you to Srathor for leading me to some pretty kick ass writing advice, I wrote this up. I just couldn't wait to enact some of what I'd learned.

One of my friends said I made Harry too kill happy. I tried to make it gradual, but maybe should've focused on him trying to emphasize more. From Quirrels death, to the knifed down thug, to burning people alive. Harry is incapable of being hurt, he doesn't emphasize with other peoples pain. Like Gaara from Naruto, expect without the internal voices that make him revel in death.

Fun fact: The man who burned alive on the stairs probably went into shock as his face melted, so I doubt he conscious for long, and even if he was the fire was burning the oxygen in front of his face. He would have suffocated eventually... probably.

To those of you who say its too early to decide pairings. I need time to set this up. Romance is something to be built up, its an emotional connection beyond lust.

To the one of my three reviewers who asked why the killing curse isn't considered 'The Darkest of Magics'. I think its labeled an unforgivable for moral reasons and less magical ones. In canon Harry is the only Horcrux to be destroyed to a killing curse, which leads me to believe he wasn't one. In fanon everyone and their mother can cast it. Apparently all you need is some hate. I was referencing Fiend fire in the synopsis