Sorry it's been awhile, but thanks again for following/favoriting/reviewing the story! It encourages me to keep writing more chapters! A lot of times I wish to get into more details, but with a full time job it's hard enough just to write on a consistent basis, so apologies for that. More for you to imagine!

Harry tried his best to ignore the music and rowdiness of the party outside his door for about an hour and a half now. Bored of his book, he was now at his desk watching dusk fade away and sketching a picture of Hedwig flying over the Big Ben. Twice David knocked on his locked door and asked if he wanted to join the party, but he declined at once, taking his own alcoholic beverage alone to the room. He admitted that he was tempted to join the excitement, yet he felt far too awkward not knowing anyone, and too embarrassed he would have another panic attack. Over the music he heard laughing, shouting, and David egging on contests of shots or offering discounted 'merchandise'. He really was one for a bit of fun. Although his sketch of Hedwig was obviously a bunch of rubbish, he was pleased with his representation of her wings. He really did miss that damn bird, and was thinking about the first time he really got mail...the brand new Nimbus 2000 from Prof. McGonnagall. God, how long ago was that? Just for fun, he drew that too, clasped tightly into her claws. He knew he had been focusing a lot of detail in his drawings because the sun had faded, and all he could see through the window were the lights outside. Harry wanted to finish one more thing, yet as he began the outline for Buckbeak's body, he was disturbed by another knock at the door.

"Hey, Mate," it was Jackson's voice. "Quick word."

Harry sighed, yet happier that it wasn't David asking a third time for him to join them. He flipped his sketches over in embarrassment and moved to open the door. Jackson stood there, appearing tired, but holding something in his hand. Harry looked around and noticed that the party was dying out. Half the people from before where there still enjoying themselves, and some were obviously passed out onto the floor near the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Wondering if I could keep you company. It's much more quiet in here."

"I'm not that lonely, you don't need to worry about it."

Jackson smiled sheepishly. "Well, I suppose it's more for me than you."

Harry didn't blame him. After an awkward chuckle between the two of them, he let the man in. "Too much fun, then?"

Jackson rolled his eyes and sat against the wall. In his hand he had a deck of cards and an obvious bag of cocaine. "Honestly, I just get bored of it after awhile. It's hard to keep track of everyone and instead of having fun I am the one picking up all the vomit and stopping people from stealing David's drugs. All the ones I trust are still here. Now I am running away and seeing what you are up to."

Harry wished he had something interesting to say. "A bit of reading. I think I will bore you more."

Jackson took out the deck of cards and began shuffling them immediately. Harry didn't want to tell him that all he knew how to play was Go Fish. "Look, I am just trying find a sober person to talk to. However, I did bring some fun in case you felt like it."

Harry set himself on the floor in front of his flatmate and eyed the bag of cocaine, wondering if the man was offering. He was feeling pretty depressed at the moment thinking about his dead owl and godfather. "I don't know how to play cards."

"Never?"

"No, my cousin would pretend to start playing with me, then throw the cards in my face and force me to clean them up. It wasn't my idea of a game."

"Dolt. Well, why don't I teach you King's Corners?"

Harry brought down his glass of whiskey and sat himself again on the floor. He was brushed up on the rules...Kings obviously only allowed in the four corners, then numbers are brought down in reverse order and reverse colors. Harry thought he had a pretty good grasp on the game. He was feeling confident after a mouthful of his drink, and let Jackson go first. The feeling was warm. It was as if he were back with Ron playing Wizard's Chess on a free day at Hogwarts. Or that time when he and Hermione strung cranberries around the tree for the Christmas at the Weasely's. The two of them laughed about each other losing, and about how David was probably piss drunk and flopped on the floor again. Harry was granted his wish and Jackson began drawing lines for the both of them around mid-game. He began feeling more alive...he laughed some more...and he even began to tell of his old friends.

"My mate, Ron, loves chess. He always beats me. I lost so much money! He even beats the best players!"

Jackson smiled. "Well, tell him to come over and I'll challenge him!"

"Oh, well, he can't." Harry forgot about that...and the lie that he never went to school past the age of 11 he started telling a few days beforehand. "Haven't spoken to him in ages." Harry recently had to start thinking of reasons as to why he couldn't solve percentages while they went out shopping, or why he had no knowledge of Muggle schooling AT ALL. His story became wittled down to being in a far more abusive household than it was...and being what Harry called a human house elf doing 'home schooling'.

Jackson's face darkened. "Is that because your bloody relatives pulled you out?"

"Y..yes. I haven't seen him, but I am sure he's still holding his title. He and Hermione were always a pair, but she doesn't like chess. He would have lost ages ago if she had." Harry couldn't tell if it were the drugs or the alcohol, but he felt the need to tell Jackson all about the Weasley's. He spoke of how Ron's mother was always trying to make him one of her own...fretted about his peakiness, and how he had always thought of his mother being as wonderful as she was. Harry talked about the twins' jokes, the eldest brother working with exotic animals overseas, and how the boys had broken him free of the Dursley's for the rest of the summer when they were twelve. He even told of falling in love with Ginny. Harry realized he had spoken for a good amount of time and felt a long pause from his flatmate.

"Harry, mate, we can go look for them! I see that they mean a lot to you. Forget your aunt and uncle, they aren't around anymore."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Doesn't seem like it."

Harry took another line and coughed as the rush hit him. "They want to talk, I don't. They bring back bad memories."

"Harry, you idiot, you just spent 15 minutes talking about all of them! It couldn't have been that bad."

Harry shoved the rest of his whiskey down his throat and felt himself becoming more anxious, which was escalating after the high he was feeling. He couldn't focus on the game anymore.

"I don't know how to explain it to you, Jackson. I really don't. They remind me of my parents, and the insane man who killed them. I've endangered them so many times. One of them have died. I am NOT going back!"

Harry refused to look at the man's face, but he could feel the shock and disbelief. He almost wanted the man to hit him, he felt as though he deserved it. Instead, Jackson appeared to be thinking with an incredibly determined face. "So..your family, and your friends' family...they were both involved with the man who murdered your parents? The guy who tried to kill you?"

Harry felt hot tears begin to escape down his face, and he wiped them away immediately. "We made it, that's the end of it. I don't want to talk to them anymore."

Jackson finished the last of the cocaine and tossed the winning cards down onto the pile. There was a definite awkward pause.

"I don't know who you're running from anymore, Harry. Your relatives, your friends, or yourself?"

He didn't have an answer.

The party ended officially around 2am. After the turn of events that occurred in his room, Jackson had left, almost appearing disappointed. Harry couldn't sleep, or face either of his friends if he left the room. Following a quick run to the loo he shoved on a jacket with his cigarettes, stepped over three sleeping bodies, and opened the front door.

"Hey, Harry!" Jackson whispered. "Why you leaving?"

He didn't bother to lower his voice. "I need to get out of here."

Harry wasn't sure where he was going. All he knew was he was still on an aggressive high that was muddled with a heavy feeling in his chest from the alcohol. Why did he have to be so enraged with the fact that he wanted his friends as far away from him as possible? He repeatedly told himself if was for their own good. Ginny deserved better. The Wizarding world had their hero, and now he was just Harry. "Just Harry, just Harry," he muttered over and over. He desperately pulled a cigarette from his jacket and lit it quickly. After reaching farther down a few blocks he found himself at a small park. He continued to smoke and sulk angrily. Yes, he wanted to see his friends. Of course he did. A whisper came from his lips. "I just need to find me without them." The thought hurt his chest. They had always done things together. Every fight, every victory, was done with each other, no matter how he wanted to do it alone. He almost didn't want to fight it alone. He had to reach out to someone.

Harry pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "Kreacher!"

And with a POP, the elf appeared, clearly surprised by the call.

"OH, MASTER POTTER! YOU IS ALIVE!"

"Shhh! Quiet down, Kreacher."

Kreacher was trying ever so hard to do so, and instead broke down into sobs. "Oh, Master, Kreacher is so lonely! Kreacher tries hard to make sure the home is spotless for when Master Harry returns!"

"Kreacher, look,"

But the House Elf became distracted, he peered through the dim light of the park at his master's face and began to wail. "MASTER IS ILL! MASTER DOES NOT LOOK HIMSELF!"

Harry panicked. He could imagine what he might look like—eyes dilated from the drugs and swollen from crying. Not to mention days of insomnia. He had to get his elf under control before he woke the whole neighborhood.

"Kreacher! Stop it." The elf immediately became still, using his pouty eyes as a means to communicate his discomfort.

"Why has Master Harry called Kreacher?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know...just...tell them I'm okay. Tell them I miss them all, but I can't come home." Kreacher made a movement suggesting he was going to wail. "Don't say a word!" He froze as if a stopper was placed into his mouth. "I also need you to go into my vault tomorrow and bring me back 2,000 Galleons in Muggle money. Okay? Meet me at noon here. And do NOT tell them where I am."

Kreacher bowed. "Of course, Master Harry. It will be done."

Harry listened as the elf disappeared into the night. He realized how quiet it was, and it became soothing as his thoughts settled. They were going to hear that he was fine. He was going to tell them that he was still thinking of them. It was enough to force him to stand a few minutes later and head back home. He almost gotten himself lost, but he recognized the small shop down the road. He glanced up at the moon and thought of Remus Lupin. His son would be sleeping soundly in his crib, not even knowing that his father died a hero. The memories of Remus mad Harry smile slightly, and he forced himself to turn in. It was still silent inside the flat...the three bodies remained sleeping on the floor. It was the voice that startled him.

"Go to bed, Harry." Jackson said softly, sitting at the dining room table. "Just making sure you came home safe."

"Thanks..." he muttered quietly. "And, er, sorry about all that." Jackson said nothing as he himself returned to his room. Harry fell into bed, exhausted at this point, but still unable to sleep. His mind raced through all 6 years of Hogwarts and would not fade away. Finally, around half past five, his eyes drifted off and the world became a dream.

A rather odd pop sounded around the Burrow just before breakfast. Arthur Weasley became curious and turned to his wife, who had been setting magic to grade the cheese for the scrambled eggs. "Molly, dear, why has Percy decided to Apparate here? He knows the fireplace is open."

Molly turned to peer through the window to see her son's head, but did not see the familiar red hair. "I think you might've heard a garden gnome, perhaps? Haven't had the time to take care of them."

"Odd.." he shrugged and began making the coffee. Percy coming weekly definitely improved the mood of the family, and even Ron had embraced the idea after the older brother's ego had visibly faltered. Percy was now perfectly happy to be an average Ministry employee, and the only matter he gloated on was his mother's pot pie recipe that turned heads at his department's pot luck. Come to think of it...Percy was planning to come in two days...couldn't have been him.

George yawned loudly and brought Arthur out of his stupor. He glanced at his son briefly, who was now squinting to peer past the other side of the curtains. "Blimey, Dad, what is that ugly thing coming to the door? It looks familiar."

"What do you mean," asked Molly. "Is it a gnome?"

Arthur met up with George and immediately his eyes bulged open. "Kreacher! Molly, open the door!"

The poor woman gasped and abandoned everything in the kitchen. Before the little elf could raise his knobbly knuckles to the door, she threw it open. It appeared the elf suddenly felt exposed.

"Kreacher, what on earth are you doing here?"

Kreacher shuffled his feet humbly and refused to look at them. "Master Harry sent Kreacher to the red haired family to give a message."

Arthur rushed the meek elf into the home and bellowed loudly up the stairs for Ginny and Ron. It took less than two minutes to get them to the kitchen, where they both froze at the sight of the woeful creature.

Ron managed to get a word out. "What's he doing here? He doesn't just come over for the fun of it."

"Kreacher has a message from Master Harry." He could not have said it any more depressingly.

George gave a pitiful look. "From what I see it's not a good message."

Mrs. Weasley glared at her son and attempted to encourage the elf. "Now, go on darling. You can tell us."

"Master Harry says he misses the Wheezy family terribly, and hopes that all is well."

There was a drop of silence.

"Er..is that it?" asked George incredulously. Ron shrugged helplessly as their eyes met.

Ginny had enough of the 'news'. It was beginning to become very ridiculous."Kreacher, where is he? We have been waiting for months!"

The house elf squealed. "Kreacher cannot say! It was a dark place...a grassy dark place. Stunk of the bad river!"

"What is he talking about?" Ron asked, but no one said a word because the elf suddenly got on his knees and pleaded the family with his whole tiny heart.

"Please, Wheezy family! Master Harry does not look well, he's not the same master! You must find him!"

Immediately the entire family began speaking at once, asking questions, and ordering the elf around.

"Kreacher, tell us where he is!"

"What does that mean?"

"Spit it out!"

Arthur attempted his best to calm the storm that was erupting in their kitchen, and when he finally restored some peace, he himself rounded upon the poor elf.

"Look, Kreacher, Harry is trying to ask us for help. He is using you to make that connection. You have to tell us where he is so we can help!"

The creature covered his eyes. "It was forbidden!"

Ron couldn't believe it. "What sort of trick is this? You come to us to tell us he misses us, then explains he's not looking good? You have to give us more than that!"

Ginny rounded on him. "He's only doing this because he was ordered to. Blame Harry on this, he is the only one being an arse!"

"Ginny!" her mother exclaimed. She was trying her best to ignore the wailing the elf was carrying on. "Harry is trying to reach out, that is obvious, but he is certainly in a position where he cannot do it."

Ginny turned to the elf, who was crying deeply. "Kreacher, what do you mean he's not the same? What is different?"

Kreacher stopped to think a moment, then upon realizing that he was not forbidden to make mention of what he had seen, responded to her softly. "Master is saddened by something Kreacher knows not. Master's eyes are not the same...as if he cannot sleep. Something is wrong and Kreacher does not know what!"

As the elf cried Arthur pried deeper. They were getting closer. "What river smells bad? Is he still in London?"

Kreacher seemed to have hit a stumbling block. He hit at his mouth, wanting to get the words out. "Smelled dizzy drinks and fire sticks! Air stunk of bad water!"

George sighed. "The elf's gone nuts."

"Kreacher must leave! Home needs tending to!" At once the house elf snapped his fingers and left the home with another pop, and left the Weasley family with their mouths open.

Ginny was the first one to speak. "I'm done with this! We need to start looking again. He's obviously near water!"

"That could be any river in the world!" Ron retorted. "Good luck with that task!"

Molly interrupted before either could fight back. "Enough, the both of you. We are closing to getting Harry back already. This is the first time he has seeked us out personally. We will take this information and go on about our day, starting with breakfast!"

"Yes, and I will inform Kinglsey in the morning"

Ron paused after his Dad spoke and asked, "What on earth is a dizzy drink and a fire stick?"

Ginny huffed, remembering the night Harry stood her up. "Alcohol. I have no idea what he meant by a fire stick."

Mrs. Weasley's heart melted, which was very visible, and to press on through the silence, she instantly ordered the family to the table. "Everyone eat everything off their plate! We will take care of all of this after a good meal!" There was a resounding sigh, but as they placed themselves at the table, there appeared to be a stronger force in the back of their minds. Harry was alive, waiting and wanting to be found, but he was not leaving any clues to do so. It was definitely a challenge to accept.