-Chapter One-

The First Fortnight

'Just nipping to the gym,' said Harry.

'You can try and try but nip you won't,' laughed Hermione, 'not 'till you lose some more of that weight.'

Taking his coat off the coat hook, Harry opened the front door. 'Eighteen stone this morning!' he called.

He walked a short way down the road to where he had parked his car, in an alley. Getting in and turning on the engine, he drove into the town.

He stopped outside a small, green shop. He took his keys out the ignition and walked in.

'Hello sir!' the man at the counter greeted. 'It's nice to see you again!'

'Hi Li. The usual please.' Replied Harry.

'You want…' Li started. 'You want, what you had last time?'

Harry nodded.

'We simply do not have that supply of noodles!' the man gasped.

'Whatever you have, Li. I'm really hungry. I'm being starved!' Harry took out his wallet and emptied it on the counter. A heap of gold and silver coins rolled out, Knuts and Gallons, wizarding currency. The man's eyes lit up and he snatched at them.

Harry gathered them up. 'The less hungry my stomach is… the more money you get.' He grinned.

'Sheila!' Li called. 'Put on the wok! … The good wok!'

Leaving his car in the alley and getting out, Harry headed back to Ron and Hermione's, stomach heavier but wallet significantly lighter.

He opened the front door to the aroma of fried food.

'I know we're being hard on you.' Said Hermione. 'And to show how well you are doing, today we're eating takeout!'

'Thanks Hermione, but I'll pass today.' Said Harry.

Hermione stopped unwrapping the pack of chips. 'What?'

'Just joking!' said Harry. Hermione laughed and continued unwrapping the food. 'God, how cliché do you think I am?'

They sat down in front of the TV and ate the fish and chips, while watching 'Wizarding Bargain Hunt'.

'So,' said Ron, tucking into a big plate of chips. 'How is the gym going, mate?'

'It's better than I thought it would be.' Replied Harry.

Ron nodded and glanced at the TV. 'How much have you lost now?' he asked.

'Well, that would be telling!' said Harry, taking another handful of chips. 'How much do you think I've lost?'

'Um… well, that would be telling.'

The front door creaked shut.

'Did you do it?' asked Hermione.

Ron nodded. 'Yeah.'

Hermione typed a password into the computer and loaded up a webpage on the computer.

'So… that's him, what, now?' said Ron.

'Shh!' snapped Hermione, turning her focus to the computer once more.

After a few clicks, map appeared on the screen, followed by a blinking red dot. The dot moved up the street and turned a corner.

'That's not the way to the gym!' said Hermione. 'Harry was tricking us!'

'Stupid git.' Ron cursed.

The dot entered a building. Hermione scrolled the mouse over it and read out the address as it flashed onto the screen.

'That's that Greek takeaway, Swish Kebab!' said Ron. 'I, um, may have taken Harry there the other week.' He added, with a sheepish grin.

Hermione tutted. 'Never mind. He's been taking our niceness and throwing it back in our faces!'

Ron shook his head slowly and sarcastically. 'What. A. Despicable. Person.'

'You don't need to be such a jerk about it.'

'Well, we all new Harry was a lying git, right?'

'Some people never change.'

The front room was silent when Harry walked in.

'Had a good time at the gym?' asked Hermione.

'Oh, yeah.' Harry replied. 'Yeah. Tried out the new, um… weights.'

'That's good! Good to know you're on track to be back to normal soon!'

Harry smiled and took his place on the sofa. Hermione stood up.

'Empty your pockets!' she shrieked.

'Wh-what? Why?'

'Just do it!'

Harry shook his pockets and a Kit Kat Chunky fell onto the floor.

'Out of my house!' shouted Hermione.

Harry left the room hurriedly, and Ron followed with a newspaper, the 'Wizarding World'.

Multiple Small Eating Establishments Bankrupt

Many small, family run takeaways and cafés have gone out of business recently. An estimated 150 establishments in the past month have closed for good, leaving their owners to look for alternative work.

Signor Juan Comida of a local Taco World was available to comment: 'It came… It ate us out of our business… and it left, as loudly as it came!'

When asked what 'it' was, he offered:

'It was… horrible! Never make me relive that memory again!'

Juan Comida now resides in a muggle mental institution, where he can be seen rocking in the corner and repeating the mantra 'It never leaves!'

'So…' said Ron. 'Was "it" you?'

'Nah. Can't be.' Shrugged Harry. He picked up his coat and opened the front door.

'Hasta la-'

'You need your stuff. You can't come back.'

'Well, yeah.' Mumbled Harry. 'Don't rush me.'

Ron took hold of the door handle and coaxed Harry outside. 'Tell you what mate, I'll drop it off later.'

Nodding, Harry walked down the drive. 'Wait!' he called, running back and holding the door open. 'I don't have anywhere to go!'

'Call me.' said Ron, closing the door.

Looking up at the grey clouds, the drizzle landed on Harry's face. Hanging his head down, he slumped into his car and drove off.

-Chapter Two-

The Second ReHoming

Grey, infinite and endless grey.

It was the same every morning.

Every morning Harry woke up at 'The Happy Wizard Homeless House', he saw the grey ceiling. The grey walls.

Every morning he looked in the mirror. His face was grey and lifeless.

Every morning he trudged along the grey corridors, into the grey canteen, and ate some grey cereal.

'I need to get out of here.' He said one morning.

The others in the canteen looked at him.

'I need to get out of here!' He repeated. He stood up and wobbled precariously, using the table for support.

The other homeless people stood with him.

'Yeah, we need to get out of here too!' they agreed.

'Then let's do it!' said Harry. 'Let's get out of here!' Cheers erupted in the food hall.

One man raised his hand. 'It's… bingo today. Can we leave after that?'

'What is this? A residential home?' replied Harry.

'Well I,' started the man. 'I just, kinda like bingo.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, okay, it can wait till after bingo.' He sat back down and looked into his bowl of cereal.

'Wait no! It can't wait. I'm leaving, who's with me?' Harry shouted, weaving his way through the tables.

No one stood up. 'It can wait. It's not that bad here.'

Shaking his head, Harry opened the door. 'Well, I'm leaving for my new life!' he said.

'Bye Harry.' Said the homeless people in the food hall.

Outside the home it was drizzling. Always is, thought Harry.

Stumbling along the pavement and kicking stones, he whistled a western tune. He put his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes: now he was a cowboy, walking across the plain, to have a fight with another cowboy. Harry would win.

Smack!

'Excuse me, where do you think you're going?' a high pitched voice asked.

Harry opened his eyes in time to see a pretty blonde woman walk around him, clearly annoyed at being walked into.

'Sorry.' Mumbled Harry.

Keeping his eyes open, he continued his walk to Ron and Hermione's house.

'Get the door, Ron, please.' Asked Hermione.

Ron put down his newspaper. 'But I did it last time!' he grunted, shuffling to the door. A figure blocked Ron's view out the glass.

'Solar eclipse!' he shouted as he opened the door. 'What do you want?'

Harry pushed his way into the house. 'I need help.'

'Yeah, I know.' Said Ron, with a sigh. He motioned towards the front room. 'Go on… But you can face the wrath of Hermione.'

'RON!' Hermione shouted. 'Why did you just let Harry in here? Do you not remem-'

Ron put his hand up. 'I know. Look, let's just help him get back on his feet and maybe we won't have to put up with this anymore.'

Harry tutted and tapped his feet on the floor. 'I'm right here!' he grinned. 'Not very good hosts are you?'

Hermione sighed, putting her book down on the coffee table. 'Harry…' she began. 'We really need to talk.'

Sitting down on the sofa, and taking the whole space up, he nodded.

'Good!' said Hermione. 'Good start.'

'I need a house.' Harry said.

'We need to talk about this… accomplice of yours. We know you have one, someone who encourages you to eat.'

Harry flew off the handle. 'DO NOT GET TERRY ARKWRIGHT, 21 ALLEY LANE, INTO THIS!' he shouted.

Hermione nodded. 'Right, Harry, if you stay here, let me see what I can sort out.'

There was a brisk knock at the door.

Visitors? He stumbled around in the dark to get it.

He opened the door. A woman was standing in the doorway.

'Teddy Arkwright?' she asked.

'Terry.'

'Can we talk?'

-Chapter Three-

Third time lucky

'Do you like… this one?' asked Ron, motioning to the laptop screen.

'No…'

'How about…' Ron scrolled down. 'This one?'

'Look, I don't care as long as it has a roof and a fridge. And maybe a minibar.' Shrugged Harry.

Ron sighed. He closed the laptop lid and turned to Harry. 'How about we go for a walk, and the first flat for sale we look at?' he suggested.

'A walk?' moaned Harry.

Ron picked up a jacket from the sofa and shrugged it on. 'C'mon Harry.' He said, without energy.

This is going to be a long day. Thought Ron.

It was gently snowing outside, and by the time they reached a flat for sale, Harry was shivering. This place looks good. Yeah, let's just get this one and get it over with.

Ron called the estate agent. When the gentle snow turned into a storm, he arrived.

Dressed in a sharp suit, the estate agent had his blonde hair in a quiff. He had a very square chin, Harry thought.

'Hello-hello-hello!' he called, in a deep, TV-style voice.

He reached the two and shook their hands. 'I'm Mick.' He said, with a grin that oozed spare ego.

'Without further delay, let me show you this property!' said Mick. 'Where is it?' he asked, his head turning from side to side.

'Excuse me?' asked Harry. 'You don't know where the property is? Are you the right agent?'

'Right Agen-no! No no no! I've never seen it before in my life!' He laughed at Harry's stupidity. 'I am one of the wizarding world's top estate agents, here to show you round this property, paid for by this gentleman here!' he gestured to Ron.

Harry's jaw flew open.

'Let's go in!' said Mick, cheerfully.

'Here is a cupboard!' Mick opened it grandly. 'Oh no, it's another room! That makes two! And that makes this flat a steal!' He roared with gusto.

Harry and Ron walked in. The wallpaper was peeling off and the carpet was coming off in the corners.

'Hey, look! The windows open!' announced Mick.

He ushered them out of the room, into the hall.

'Now, I know it smells a bit damp, but that's not the house, that's the scent the owner put on this morning!' he lowered his voice. 'He was born with a rare condition – he has no nose.' Said Mick, sombrely.

He guided them towards a small door.

'This is the stairwell!' he said, swinging the door open.

'That's an airing cupboard…' Ron mumbled. 'Without the immersion heater.'

'Well!' said Mick, 'that's a bonus! No water or heating bills!'

'No water or heating full stop.' Sighed Harry.

'Okay gentlemen!' Mick grinned. 'That concludes the tour of this magnificent property. Can we make a deal – here, now?' he asked.

Harry glanced out the small window. The blizzard was raging. Well, the windows open, Harry. He thought to himself.

'It's a deal.' Harry put out his hand and Mick shook it with passion.

'Another deal well done!' he guffawed. 'You are one smart shopper, Mr Potter!'

'It's not that bad. You're exaggerating, Ron.' Snapped Harry.

'I believe Ron.' Said Hermione, curtly. 'You chose a flat on Dimore Alley. The worst alley around here.'

'Well, you don't have to live there, so it's fine.' Replied Harry.

Hermione shook her head and lowered her voice to a whisper. She leant towards Ron. 'No water… or heating? I thought you were meant to be keeping an eye on him!'

Ron's eyes widened. 'Keep me out of this!'

A week later, Harry opened his front door. He put his shopping bags on the floor – groceries – and walked into the front room.

Sitting on the sofa, he put his gym membership card to one side, and spread his weight watchers leaflets across the table.

I killed Voldemort. He thought. I can lose weight.

-Chapter Four-

The Forth let down

Dear Harry,

I feel awful about encouraging this eating habit of yours – at the time I thought I was doing the right thing. I've been through it all before so I don't know why I didn't stop you.

I hope you can recover. If you do then maybe we can talk, if you can forgive me.

Talk sometime Bye,

Terry Arkwright

A tear trickled down Harry's cheek, rolling off his face.

Where did my life go so wrong?

For the first time, in a long time, Harry cried.

The phone by his bed rang.

Reaching round with great difficulty, Harry picked it up and put it to his ear.

'Harry, it's Hermione.'

'I know. You're the only person who'd ever call me.'

'I'm coming round.'

Harry was silent.

'See you in five.' Hermione hung up.

It seemed like only seconds had passed before he heard Hermione opening his front door. Then again, for the last month he had stared at black for the whole day.

The light flickered on, and Harry shielded his eyes. Rainbow spots danced around his vision. The first colour he'd seen for weeks.

When he felt comfortable opening his eyes, he looked up at Hermione, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She stared down with pity in her eyes, and Harry had to look away.

'Harry, you can't live like this.'

'Well, I'm doing a pretty good job at it so far.' He argued. 'Look.' He sucked in a huge breath, and exhaled. 'I'm breathing. I'm alive.'

Hermione nodded. 'Yeah. Harry… when was the last time you had a wash?'

'I don't have any water here, remember.'

'I don't think you're coping very well,' said Hermione, gingerly. 'We have to get you washed up and presentable, because your kids are coming round.'

Harry tried to sit up. He fell back into the pillows. 'No!' He gasped. 'No! I don't want them to see me like this!'

'Then what does that say about you?' asked Hermione.

'You're right! I need to sort myself out… help me.'

'I know where you should go. Back to the muggle world… and live there for a while… like a holiday.'

Harry rolled out of bed. He waded towards the wardrobe and pulled out a jacket. 'Can I come round yours and have a shower?'

Hermione winced. 'I don't think you'll fit…'

Head hanging dejectedly, Harry waddled back to his bed.

'But we can try!' said Hermione, putting on a cheerful voice.

She led Harry out of the room and into her car. Thank God for cars… or else how would I have got Harry home?

The key turned in the lock and the front door squeaked open.

'You were quick. How's Harry?'

The stairs creaked slowly.

'Oh, ignore me then.'

Hermione walked in and took off her coat. 'I'm not ignoring you. Harry is…' she glanced through the open door. 'He could be doing better.'

Ron put down the TV remote and got up. He looked through the door.

'O-oh my God…' he blurted.

-Chapter FIve-

The fifth sign

Remember what Hermione said: Don't let yourself go, and you'll be feeling better in no time.

It felt odd for Harry to be back in the Muggle world – the world he'd called his home as a child, and the world he'd wanted to escape from the whole time.

But now it felt like a safe haven. It was simple here. Peace and quiet.

Parking his car in his new driveway, he was glad he'd spent the last of his savings on this house – he was feeling good about it. It had water and heating – so it couldn't be worse than before – and it was clean and bright.

For the first time since all of this happened, he felt optimistic.

He knew there were plenty of people like him in this world. They managed. They coped. And now Harry would join them.

He'd written a list of things he'd need to do from now on, and he would stick to his list like his life depended on it.

Get dressed

Get washed

Eat breakfast

Do something

It was a bit vague, but he liked that. It gave him freedom to live how he wanted.

He clutched the paper in his hand as he took his suitcase to the front door.

Putting the key into the front door he turned it. Then ever so slowly… he opened the door.

Harry unpacked his suitcase, and sat on the bed. A new chapter of my life has begun. He may not have any money now, but Muggles had a system where people who didn't have a job could get money until they started work. The benefits system – although he'd heard it called 'the dole queue' before.

Going back downstairs, he sat on the sofa, in his new tracksuit (which Harry was wary of at first, but had to admit they were very comfortable) and turned on the TV.

There was a show on daytime telly he'd wanted to watch. 'The Jeremy Kyle show' was quite a hit here.

Jeremy Kyle was shouting at some woman, who broke into tears. Harry had to admit, it was more entertaining than it should be.

Leaning over, he took some lottery tickets out his pocket.

He was being realistic – he didn't really have any money now, and he couldn't get a job. But… he was feeling lucky.

The Muggle world – the land of freedom.

82 episodes of Jeremy Kyle later, Harry was wondering why it wasn't working.

Why wasn't he losing any weight?

Why hadn't he won the lottery?

Why wasn't he feeling better?

He'd tried and tried for the last two weeks to keep up appearances, to get dressed, to exercise…

He'd even grown a very fetching beard. It made him look smarter.

What was the winning formula?

And then it hit him.

-Chapter six-

The Last straw

Harry opened the book to the index.

I need to find something about conjuring up stuff. Why didn't I listen more in Potions?!

Instead he turned to Wingardium Leviosa. Staring simple.

He brandished his wand like a broadsword and pointed it at the TV remote. 'Wingardium…. Leviosa!' he shouted.

The remote didn't budge.

'Wingardium Leviosa?'

His wand threw up some feeble sparks.

I could call Hermione… but what I'm doing isn't exactly legal.

A look of surprise lit up Harry's face and he stumbled off towards the front door with his wand. Putting it safely back in his pocket, he went outside and got in his car.

Time to pay a visit to an old friend… platform 9 and three quarters.

'Please… please don't say that's Harry again…' said Ron.

'Don't be rude, Ron' replied Hermione as she went to get the front door. 'He's in his time of need.'

'He's an ungrateful git.' Mumbled Ron, turning back to his newspaper.

Hermione opened the front door. 'Oh, Harry! What a surprise!' she gasped.

'I need your help.' Said Harry, letting himself in the house. 'You're the smart one, and I can't do magic anymore!'

Hermione stopped and turned around. 'I hope you weren't doing magic in the Muggle w-'

'I wasn't, I wasn't' Harry interjected.

'…because if you were... you can get out my house!' said Hermione.

Harry walked into the front room and nodded to Ron. He took out his wand.

'Wingardium Leviosa!' he shouted. Nothing happened.

'Hm…' Hermione breathed. 'When was the last time you did magic and succeeded?'

Harry thought for a second. 'A month or so ago, when I was still an Auror, and I unleashed a Patronus.'

Hermione nodded. 'So something must have happened between then and now.'

'I haven't done anything. All I've done is watch TV.' Said Harry.

'What have you been watching?'

'Jeremy Kyle.'

'Oh no.' gasped Hermione. 'Oh no.'

'What? What's wrong with me? TELL ME!' Harry cried.

Hermione paused to think of the best way to break it to him. 'Well, you've spent so long watching Jeremy Kyle…' she started, hesitating. 'That it has sucked all the hope and soul from you, leaving you unable to perform magic.'

Harry dropped to his knees and threw his head back.

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' He shouted. 'DAMN YOU JEREMY KYLE!' Then he blacked out.

Poor Harry. He's trying so hard… there must be something I can do to help him.

He just needs… a little bit of luck.

'Harry, this is… highly illegal.'

'Hey, thanks Hermione!'

'You aren't taking this seriously Harry!' Hermione shook her head and took the bottle away from Harry. 'Now listen… if anyone finds out I did this, I'll be in big trouble.'

Harry nodded his head. 'Sure, I won't tell.'

Hermione handed the little bottle of gold liquid back to Harry. 'If you do…'

Harry pocketed the bottle and grinned at her. 'You have my word. Besides, it's not the first time you've done something illegal with me.'

'If you tell a soul… I'll make You-Know-Who look like a cuddly puppy.'

Harry turned on the TV.

'I'm feeling lucky!' He drank the contents of the bottle in one gulp. It was a lucky potion, and it was illegal to use magic in the muggle world.

Wearing a giant grin, he got comfy on the sofa and took out his lottery tickets.

The lottery balls were spinning around in the machine, like in a washing machine.

'The jackpot today stands at five million pounds.'

Harry looked at his numbers. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. It was so simple it might just work.

'It's the number one!' the announcer… announced.

Harry stopped breathing.

'And… it's two! Followed by… three!'

He shuffled to the edge of his seat.

'Next is four! It appeared last week, too. Next is… wow, it's five! Now we need a six to finish it off!' the voice joked.

'And it's... six! It's six! This is the first time in the history of the lottery we've had these numbers! Six! It's SIX!' the voice couldn't contain it's excitement.

'SIX! SIX! SIX!' Harry joined in, jumping off the sofa.

Pulling some sick moves (really, they were sickening to watch) Harry danced his way to the front door.

'Time to reclaim my fortune!' He sang. 'It's six!'

He skipped down the road to the local shop, stopping frequently to catch his breath.

He burst through the front door, and tripped over the doormat, his winning ticket flying out of his hand. Scrambling to get it, he heaved himself up and ran to the counter. The cashier eyed him suspiciously as he approached.

'It's SIX!' Harry roared at the man. 'SIX!'

The cashier asked Harry to please calm down and tell him what he needed.

'Six!' Harry shouted, waving the ticket in the man's face.

The man paused to look at the ticket. 'A winning ticket!' He grabbed Harry's arms and jumped up and down with him. 'Six! Six!'

Harry wiped some sweat from his forehead. 'If someone was writing down my every move, how many times would they have wrote six in the last half a page?'

'Probably enough to make them go mad.' Replied the cashier, calmly taking Harry's ticket. 'And here is your five million pounds.' He took fistfuls of cash from under the counter.

'Wow.' Said Harry. 'You just give me the money? Is that how it works?'

The cashier paused, before lobbing more money across the counter. 'It is now.'

Harry eyed the growing green mound with huge eyes.

'Wait, do you have a spare wheelbarrow?' he asked.

The man nodded, and bend down. He lugged it around the counter.

'Thanks.' Said Harry, scooping up his winnings and placing them in the wheelbarrow. 'I thought it was appropriate.'

'Yep, yep.' The cashier nodded in agreement.

'Well, thanks.' Said Harry, wheeling his cargo out the door.

On his way home, Harry thought about what he could spend the money on.

I could buy a new house… but I like my house. I could buy a Ferrari… but I couldn't fit in it.

Stumped, Harry stopped and leaned against his wheelbarrow. He tapped his finger against his chin in a cartoon like way.

I've got it! I can buy more lottery tickets, and get even richer!

'Mr Fudge, we've got the report in.'

'Good, good. Bring it to me.'

She put the envelope she was holding on the desk in front of Fudge. He read to contents and nodded from time to time.

'I see… this all points to one conclusion.'

'Which is, sir?'

'That whoever wrote this comes from a foreign country. I need this re-written… in English please.'

She sighed, and took the paper out of his hands. She read it through to him, replacing words of more than two syllables with shorter alternatives.

'Egad!' Fudge exclaimed. 'The man's a criminal.'

'What should we do, sir?'

'Release the hounds! Metaphorically speaking, of course.'

I don't get paid enough for this. She left the room, thinking about what they should do with the criminal.

Let's send Mr Potter a little letter.