Disclaim: I own nothing! Except for a few useless material items I bought without thinking. And possibly my soul. Still haven't heard back on whether that was a loan or not.


Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer - Harry Potter had learned the hard way that it was better to be with the enemy, then fighting him. The fact that it allows him to cause chaos and not be blamed? That's just a bonus.


Harry Potter grew up with his aunt and uncle, who never pretended to like him. That was fine with him, he didn't like them either. However, he was kind of tired of always being picked on by his cousin, and his cousin's friends. There were only so many times he could play Harry Hunting without wanting to hurt someone. The only problem with that is that he then got blamed and punished even though it was clearly self defense. Not fair, but also not like he could complain to anyone. He thought that his life was just going to be Harry Hunting with a few breaks. Until he accidentally overheard a few lines of a movie that Dudley was definitely not suppose to be watching.

'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'.

He puzzled over the possible meaning at first, because keeping your enemies close is just begging to get hurt. It wasn't until Harry was serving tea at Aunt Petunia's 'gardening' club meeting that it became clear. Each and every member of the club would gossip about everyone else, and never stayed on the same side. They were always looking at each other suspiciously when they thought no one else was looking. But since Aunt Petunia had them over, they couldn't exactly insult her, could they? That would be in 'bad taste', and that's what they all cared about.

And that opened up a whole new world to young Harry Potter.

Granted, it took awhile for Petunia and Vernon to notice, but they tried to ignore him when they could. It was when he was playing video games with Dudley and laughing and having fun that they had to stop and wonder what happened. Had their plan worked?

They were so confused over the about face that had happened to their son and nephew, and happy that their son was happy that they did nothing. And so Harry Potter kept his cousin Dudley closer than before.

Any way, life was good to Harry, and he was allowed to move into Dudley's second bedroom, because Dudley threw a fit about how long it took to get Harry up on Saturdays to play games. And Petunia and Vernon could not deny their son anything, no matter how much they didn't want to give it to him. Being in Dudley's gang made it so that he wasn't bullied, he helped Dudley with his homework so that Dudley wouldn't get tired of being nice (although a few years after it all started Dudley could hardly remember not hanging out with his cousin. He was always there.) For Harry, life was looking up.

And then he received the strangest letter. About a magical school. And after all the nonsense that happened when his uncle and aunt tried to prevent him from discovering it, Harry was off to a brand new world. But he remembered the phrase that had made his childhood bearable.

On the Hogwarts Express, he met two boys: one with red hair and a ready smile, and a blonde who oozed confidence. And Harry, based on his past and their actions, shook the hand of the one that he did not like, because better to be close and to watch. If it meant that the red head stormed out of the car, or that two human walls walked in, or that the bleached blonde boy started to sprout something stupid, well, how was this different from before?

When sorting time came, he put on the hat, knowing exactly where to go. After all, everyone had said, Slytherin breeds Dark Wizards, and Dark Wizards wouldn't like Harry Potter. So better to keep them close. The hat just chuckled and laughed at the cunning plot in Harry's head. As good as the phrase, remember that sometimes real friends are needed too. Harry figured he'd understand later.

He never did regret being in Slytherin. Oh, he hated most of the people in his house, and his Head of House was loathed, but Harry was safe, in a kind of strange way. After the first prank that targeted Slytherin happened that year, and Harry heard the mutters of 'those damn Weasleys' he knew what he would do. After all, what person would prank his own house? So he played some games with his fellow students, and got the Weasley twins blamed. He escaped all notice, at least for that.

Unfortunately, Harry was famous. And he didn't exactly realize what that would mean. Because there were three houses that hated him on principle just because he was supposedly good and now had supposedly turned bad. It didn't really bother him, he just got even when he could, but life would be a little nicer if his enemies had the decency to all be in one place.

Oh, and he might have made a friend. One of his yearmates, a boy named Blaise, would nod to him. As opposed to Malfoy who clung and ranted, and Pansy who moped and sat, and Grecint Croyle, the two human walls that Harry never bothered to learn the real names for. Nobody seemed to care, and they didn't particularly notice when Harry slipped up and addressed them by 'Croyle'. But Blaise, he was distant and cool, and a possibility.

And time went on, with Harry causing mischief and mayhem for his whole house. He cost them the House cup (although no one would know it) and he cost them Quidditch as he messed with the robes of the Slytherin team. But only for the games against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Blaise and Harry became better friends, standing back in the common room and laughing at the pathetic plots the self proclaim 'best students/people/Slytherins' came up with.

But Harry did this little thing, where he didn't insult anybody to their face. Why make an enemy when you didn't have to? So as the years passed, and generally people began to forget that he existed. He made sure that he was never where he wasn't suppose to be. After all, heroes had enemies. So he was just as surprised as everyone else when it was anounced Professor Quirrel was dead. And he was appropriately sad when Ginny Weasley was found dead. Fourth year when he was forcibly entered into the Tri-Wizard tournament, he spent most of his time trying to figure out who was his unnamed enemy. He was appropriately aloft from his fellow champions, and tried to not outdo any of them.

Although in the end, he was still whisked away to a graveyard to participate in a ritual to raise his definite enemy. And so when Voldemort asked Harry Potter to join his side, as a non-marked follower who would undermine Dumbledore, he said yes.

He sabotaged the effort, not out of any concern for the people of the wizarding world, but because he wanted revenge. It worked until Voldemort discovered that Snape was a spy, and he lost his scapegoat. His wasn't particularly devastated at the death of Snape, although others were. After all, Snape was an enemy, and that was one less enemy to worry about. He and Blaise watched as the Slytherins marked themselves, branded his symbol on him. They watched the resistance, and then Harry had the opportunity he needed. Voldemort used the blood of an enemy. His blood. Harry was able to search Malfoy Manner for a book that would have what he needed. And he found it.

A ritual that would call his blood back. That would punish the stealer with a fate worse than death.

And so the war ended, and no one knew who ended it, so everyone just continued on with their lives. Many of Harry's yearmates were thrown in jail, for they had the brand. People again ignored Harry, for he had never done anything amazing. And Harry was happy.

He may not have had friends, but his enemies were dead, or in jail, and he was free to be himself.

He and Blaise kept the same relationship until both of their deaths. No one went to Harry's funeral, which is what he wanted. After all, being a symbol for an entire world is painting a target on your back.

Harry's life wasn't easy, but it sure as hell wasn't as hard as it could have been.