A/N I hope you enjoyed chapter one and are interested in understanding the exact backstory behind the war. Clearly its very different then what was in the books. This chapter goes back to the beginning of the story and things will slowly become clear. Please R&R! Same disclaimer from last chapter applies.

Hermione's phone buzzes. She ignored it, assuming it to be another inane WhatsApp post or Facebook notification. It has been a long day in Uni and quite frankly she is more interested in going to bed and getting some much needed sleep than getting sucked in to the addictive flow of social media.

After a long relaxing shower, she checks her phone for the last time before retiring to bed. Peculiar. Three missed calls from an unknown number. Oh, there's a text as well. With a tap on the fingerprint sensor- she still is in awe about the advancements Muggle technology has made in the past ten years- she unlocks her phone and checks the text.

Pls call me

Ur only haircut client :)

Hermione's heart jumps. It can't be. Or could it? Hardly daring to believe it, she thumbs at the unknown number. She doesn't recognize the area code. A familiar voice picks up on the other end.

"Hello," Hermione's heart jumps. It's really him! Her response tumbles out of her mouth; a jumble of words all trying to get ahead of the other like cars at a racetrack. Question after question rolls out of her mouth.

"How are you? Where have you been? How did you get my number?"' - he interrupts her abruptly.

-"I would love to talk but I would prefer it to be in person. Is that all right?" She furrows her brow. Is his voice slurred a little?

"Okay". She can't help but feel excited. Harry has disappeared off the face of the earth for nearly a year now and she misses him. He had been the rock of the trio in many of the grim situations that had found themselves in the war,and she wouldn't say it, but there were times that she felt like his presence would have significantly helped here in her adjustment to 'normality'.

"The dwelling place of Harry James Potter can be found at 1263 Fairview Lane," Harry recites in a monotone.

No wonder he couldn't be found, he used a Fidelius! Where even is that?

"You know Wales at all?" he asks rhetorically in response to her unsaid question.

He has always been able to read my mind like that. It's actually kind of unnerving.

"Mione, it's fine, since you're Unplottable and likewise with me, the Ministry can't track Portkeys in or out of our houses. Just make one."

"But that's illegal!" she exclaims. He responds dryly.

"I didn't see you bothering about that in Gringotts. Look, do you want to see me or not? This is the only way. Oh and don't bother asking how I know you're Unplottable. I have my ways. "

And there he goes again with the mind reading thing. Did he learn how to do legilimency through the phone or something?

"I'm looking forward. See you tomorrow". CLICK.

Portus. A faint blue glow envelopes the enchanted trinket and with a pull at her navel she is off to Wales.

She hits the ground with a rough thump. As she steadies herself she instinctively goes into a well rehearsed routine. Land, crouch, check your six, corners. All clear. All this is done instinctively with an ease of motion that indicates routine burnt in to muscle memory. She catches herself. The war is over. There's no need for all of that. A voice in her head, like a bears growl roars in her head. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

Approaching the simple three flat, indistinguishable from any other in this standard urban neighborhood, she looks around cautiously. Everything seems normal. Hermione doesn't like normal. Normality makes you comfortable, lowering your guard so you don't see the unexpected coming.

As she approaches 1263, a tension is felt in the air. There is a distinctive albeit subtle electric feel in the air, as if the air is more densely ionized in this particular area then others. She stretches her hand out. She closes her eyes and concentrates. There. A slight buzz is apparent, a tingle that envelopes her fingers. Wards. So, he did learn something from me. A thin smile appears on her face part pride but tempered by a thought. Why does he feel all this is necessary?

The wards are distinctly Harry. Instant heavy duty brute force wards will catch you off guard with their strength. The sheer force of the initial confrontation causes you to disregard the subtle creepings of the secondary thrust. It's highly effective technique that he mastered and used to great efficiency in their time on the run. The tingle goes away and the wards soften in recognition of her magical signature. Why thank you. She is pleased. Harry has keyed her in to the wards.

As she pushes open the door to the flat, the unmistakable stench of alcohol hits her nostrils. Eugh. She wrinkles her nose distastefully. We all had our various ways of coping after the War, but did he really need to dive into the bottle?

"Harry?" No response aside for the echo of her own voice. She leaves the coat room and goes into the living room. It's in the typical state of chaos that you would expect in a flat belonging to a single guy. Ignoring that, she slowly approaches his bedroom door and tentatively knocks. A groan cracks the air. Slightly awkward for me to be entering a single guy's bedroom but he might need my help. And besides, it's Harry. It's different.

The room is a mess. Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor and Harry Potter is sprawled out on the floor lying in a pile of vomit. Hermione flips out.

"I need to get away from all of this." Harry states matter of factly.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Hermione replies in an investigative tone. "I mean besides from drinking yourself into oblivion. That I saw very clearly. Harry winces at that.

"That hurts."

"It ought to." She snaps back at him. Harry pulls out his phone, a late model smartphone, thumbs at the screen for a brief moment, and turns it around to face Hermione.

"Read". She does.

This is some impressive planning. It has its issues but fundamentally it could work.

Is this really how he felt about the fame? The public has held us up to be heroes, the perfect role models for the next generation. He is right in that if the public knew half of what we did, not only would we be vilified but the magical version of the Hague- the ICW- would have us locked up for war crimes. The hypocrisy is just too much for him. He is a sensitive soul deep down. Most don't see that part of him.

"America?" she asks aloud. An affirmative grunt is her only reply. She rolls her eyes. Men. She continues reading the document, her eyes moving so rapidly that if given wings, they could take off. He has written a plan that will radically alter his life. An escape from the craziness of England is clearly his main goal. It is impossible for Harry to become normal in the magical world. It wasn't when we were mere students and certainly not now after he has been anointed the savior of the magical world. Adding in the fact that everywhere he, and honestly the same is true for me, walks in magical England is just another reminder of the atrocities that were committed, and I genuinely don't blame him for wanting to get out of it as fast as possible.

"Harry, I'll help you do this. It seems to me that either this plan, a crazy half cocked scheme, will allow you to escape, or the bottle will forcibly make you escape. I don't want that second option. Therefore," she says in a business like tone. "I will help you with this harebrained alcohol induced scheme of yours and shape it into a reasonable plan of action. I demand from you only one thing."

"What?"

"You want me to help you; I need you to help me. I will not stand for you, Harry James Potter, wasting himself in the bottle! You are far too good a man for that. You quit, I will help. Agreed?"

A firm handshake devolves into a hug as two friends reunite.

Weeks later

Harry and Hermione are seated in her cubicle in her office pouring over papers. It's after hours and no one is around besides for the janitorial staff. Despite the emptiness, the area in which they occupy is bristling with Anti-eavesdropping jinxes and protective charms.

"Okay, so we have some details that need to be taken care of. Firstly, your documentation: You will be unable to go anywhere without proper documents. I managed to locate your birth certificate from the Muggle hospital that St. Mungos is affiliated with; however that is the extent of your documentation. Your official schooling ended at the age of 11 so that is a problem as well."

"What's there to do about it? If I want to get into a school across the pond like you suggested, than we're going to need graduation papers, right? Hogwarts doesn't have some transferable credit system for muggleborns?

"There is, but you didn't graduate from them and if you want to arrange a credit transfer McG is going to get suspicious."

"I don't think I've ever heard you call her that before."

"I lost a lot of respect for her in the last year. You know that when I did that 2 month internship in St Mungos, I was treating scores of Hogwarts students for PPCS!?"

"Um…"

"Phantom Post Cruciatus Syndrome." She smoothly launches into her teacher voice. Harry hides a smile behind his hand. "When nerves in the body have been exposed to prolonged Cruciatus use without a long respite in between exposures, the nerves don't fully recover. Think of it in terms of a workout. When you work out muscles, what you are actually doing is tearing your muscles. The tissue that grows back is what makes the muscles stronger and bigger. Imagine someone works out and before the muscles recovered, the guy went and tore them again. After a few times doing that there would be severe damage to the muscles. Nerves are no different. Damaged nerves do a lot more than just ache; these poor kids feel phantom cruciatus pains. Granted they aren't as severe as the real thing but nonetheless that is not something I would wish on most of my enemies." Although there a few…

"Great lecture Professor- Hermione blushes- but what did that have to do with McGonagall?"

"These kids were subjected to usage levels of the curse that would have leveled fully grown adults, and it was all on her watch! You do realize that the curse was invented as a last resort means to stop stampede in yaks in the Himalayas?!

"So this all happened under her watch and she should have done something about it. Look, cut her some slack, if she wasn't there than things would have been much worse. Let's get back on track here. Thanks for taking initiative and looking for my documents but I wasn't planning in going as Harry Potter. Or were you thinking that I would?

"Kind of, yeah." She purses her lips.

"Well I'm not going to. I've thought about this and I don't think it'll work. They know who I am across the pond also. I was the only reason Voldemort didn't go to America. He was so focused on eliminating me that he never attempted to expand globally the way Grindlewald did. They know that. Going to the states under my name would be like painting a target on my back for everyone, especially the MaCUSA people. Incognito is the way for me. I'm done with all the pointing and staring!"

"So what you are telling me, Harry James Potter, is that you want to falsify papers to illegal immigrate to the states?"

"Exactly".

"But that's illegal!"

"And you stole a dragon. Look, I've broken nearly every law magical Britain has to offer, why should Muggle ones be any different?"

"How are we to do this? I'm sure there is a way to acquire Muggle copies quite easily but those will probably get you caught. There's also a Social Security card, Passport, Birth Certificate, school records, Insurance- oh my gosh, we're going to have to do like a whole new past for you!"

"Calm down." Harry's deep smooth voice washes over her. "No need to get overwhelmed. It's not as hard as you think to get your hands on them. That's the beauty of magic and the bane of Magical Law Enforcement. There is a whole black market for magical criminals who deal with the muggle underworld. I was just reading about it. "

"You were 'just reading' about something? Yeah, I don't really believe that. Where did you find information about that?"

"Whatever, it's not a legal publication. The wizarding version of the Arsonists' Cookbook. Don't ask and I won't answer. "

"So you're telling me that I should ask George about it?" They both break out into laughs. It's a good sign that we can still laugh. It shows we haven't been broken.

"Does this guide help you with actually creating the falsified documents?"

"No, it just says that the creation process is quite complex, far more than you'd think and on order to acquire them, you'd need to connect with the local dealer to broker a connection with the higher ups for you. As you can expect it's quite the hush hush type of deal. So, how good are your connections to the criminal underworld?" A light chuckle.

"Not so good. As the "Guardians of the Light- that's what the paper said about us the other week- we would get into a whole scandal if this got out. Who would dream that we would be in need of some criminal help ourselves? "

"Yeah it's bloody ironic. Point being that-"

"-Dung!"

"After last time?"

"Just threaten him or something masculine like that."

"Is the 'straight as an arrow' Hermione Granger advocating for blackmail?"

"At times black methods are needed to cause a whitewash."

Questioning look.

"I did, just now. It sounds very profound."

"Cut out the giggling. Criminals don't giggle."

"You're laughing too, don't deny it. Sounding defensive doesn't flatter you. How are we going to find Dung? Kreacher worked last time."

"Not going to work, I don't own him anymore."

Raised eyebrow

"Teddy."

Nod.

"So... You have any ideas? "

"I think I'm going to give George a call. Tell him I need Dung to get some stuff for some brainy experiment of mine. He'll get such a kick out of the "Golden Gryffindor" needing illegal stuff that he won't ask too deeply. I'll just have to make sure it's stuff that he doesn't have. It's not like he's on the straight and narrow himself. "

"I've got some ideas of my own. Get back to me if you get any developments."

CRACK. Apparition.

That boy is crazy and will probably be the end of me. Hermione thinks. We better not get caught. You know, that would be an interesting quandary for the Ministry if we were to get caught. Will they cover over for us or throw is to the wolves. I don't want to find out.

So why are you doing this? She asks herself.

Because he really needs it. And as much as I will miss him it truly is the right thing for him.

Hermione reaches for the Floo powder

"Weasley Wizarding Wheeze's back room" the fire turns purple. A warded Floo, when did he install that? She sticks her wand hand into the cold flames. An ice feeling washes over her as the wards identify her as a friend or foe. Satisfied, the fire turns into a pale reddish orange. Limited access, calling only. Well I'll be...

"Sorry about that, Hermione," a jovial voice says. "It's a new security feature. What's up?"

"I need to talk to you about something. Can I come through?" George waves his wand in an elaborate pattern, mumbles something under his breath and the Floo turns the standard green. Hermione smirks. Same George as always. He's bounced back well. I'll say something to Angelina. She'll appreciate it.

"You do realize that I know the whole wand waving is unnecessary, right?" George gives her a large smile.

"Yeah but it scares off everyone else who doesn't possess your level of intelligence. So I'm gonna keep on doing it."

The back room in WWW is crammed with half finished prototypes. A peculiar looking teddy bear broomstick combination that emits puffs of colored smoke at odd intervals catches her eye, and that is far from the weirdest thing in the room. George clears off the table, picking up spare bits of parchment and other various things: a large sneakoscope, a few potions vials, a very large monkey wrench that flashes a range of psychedelic colors, and a few other Weasley-esque sinister looking materials. After room has been cleared sufficiently they sit down.

George rubs his hands together excitedly and asks her why she has decided to grace him with her presence.

"Unless it was purely to sit in proximity to my gorgeous face?" he suggests.

"Not quite. I need a favor from you." she responds seriously. George leans forward.

"Now what could the "Moral backbone of the Golden Trio" possibly need from little old me? It couldn't possibly be something on the left side of the law?" his eyes are twinkling with mirth. 'I'll have you know that WWW is a fully legal business and all the ingredients in our edibles are approved by the International Potioneers Association of the Commonwealth for ingestion."

"I need to find Dung."

"That's it?" George sounds disappointed. "I was meeting with him before you came. When you Floo'd me I told him to go outside and have a smoke. He's probably still out there right now. Go outside and talk to him."

…So please leave a message after the tone. Thank You.

"Hey Potter, this is Fletcher calling. I hear you need some papers. I can work that out for you. I know a guy. It's gonna cost you a pretty penny though. Call me back or if you're as good with Muggle tech as your girl says, than just text me. Use Cryptogram if you can."

This is HP. Give me details.- HP

You need identity change, rite? easiest to fake is French. its better b/c you don need to fake American. How's ur French accent?- Dung

It's fine. I got no problem with that.-HP

Granger told me you wanna go 2 scool. How are you getting in? It'll be tough to work out a reg transfer.

Sounds like you've done this for someone before ;) Haven't really considered the how. First trying to work on the bare bones first.

Yeah I got you. Ive gotten papers through these guys b4. During the war its I got my family off the island. These people are the best but you can't screw around with them.- Dung

Whatever is necessary.- HP