Heyo everybody. Fanfiction needs me to put in some AN before the chapter. I'll make it quick.

This is just the first chapter but it will not be actively updated here. If you want to read the following story until it is done you'll need to find me on AO-3. Same writer's name. Sorry about that. But it is just easier for me to upload there...

Enjoy 3

Chapter 1

First Meetings

Nothing seemed out of place in Little Whinging as per usual. Everything was as normal as it gets. The same houses lined up with the same distance with the same backyards with the same flower arrangements. Everything was as it should be if you asked the inhabitants. The kids had been out of school for a couple of weeks at this point and everything was normal. Well, Mrs. Figgs was a special case considering her propensity to have cats but it was almost normal for any neighbourhood to have a crazy cat lady and most of the women living in Little Whinging did so enjoy talking about her. In general, they enjoyed talking about anything that wasn't themselves if only because they only talked about the faults of others, so the less time spent being talked about was a definite victory for anyone on the block.

Mrs. Dursley was the biggest positive talking point considering their tendency to berate and insult each other. They didn't know what she did to make her garden look like that but it was almost like it was magic. Even in the blistering summer heat her garden still looked pristine. Her grass was always greener, and her rosebushes were a little taller. She had managed to win the best garden of the summer six years running now and they honestly didn't know how she did it.

Sure, they had all spotted the black-haired youth working in the garden at times, but he was just a delinquent enrolled in St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. It was only right that he spent time working in the garden instead of doing all that vandalism. They hadn't caught him yet, but they were all sure it was him who had been vandalizing the nearby playground or done the graffiti in the underpass near Magnolia Crescent.

It was that same youth who at this specific moment in the middle of the night was once again tossing and turning in his bed on the second floor.

"No… don't… not Cedric… Don't… Mum? Dad?"

Harry woke up with a gasp of breath. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. Harry Potter - Boy-Who-Lived, Defender of the Philosopher's Stone, Basilisk Slayer and Victim, Godson to an innocent mass murderer and now Surviving Tri-Wizard Champion. He heaved as the images of that night only a month prior still flickered on the inside of his eyelids.

He and Cedric Diggory had been kidnapped after the Third Tri-Wizard Task and sent to a graveyard in Little Hangleton where Cedric was murdered because he was a spare.

"Cedric wasn't a spare," Harry mumbled. "He was the important one, you god damn psychopath."

Harry breathed in deeply. He felt like throwing up. Then again, he felt like throwing up most of the time at this point. It all seemed so pointless to him. His fourth year at Hogwarts had been an eye-opener for him. The year where he really began to see people for who they were and not who they showed they were. Ron had probably been the biggest disappointment and Hermione had been the biggest surprise.

Ron had let his jealousy take over and been a real fucking git this year. Sure, he had half-way apologized after the first task and Harry hadn't had the energy to ask for more than that. The problem with half-way apologies is that you only get half-way forgiveness in return. Ron had helped as much as he himself felt was necessary and he did make a good target for target practice but Harry was wary of him. Hermione however had stuck with him. That had honestly been a surprise. She was always the rule abiding one of the trio and Harry had expected her to be the first to have considered him a cheater. That it had only taken three sentences before she had accepted that him being in that goddamned tournament was an attempt on his life was frankly surprising but welcome.

That's why it stung so much at the moment. Harry had sent a customary letter to Ron. It was filled with honest insincerities and common platitudes and that had been it. Harry didn't even expect or want a reply to it. Hermione's letter however had been something more. Harry had described his nightmares in it. It had been the closest he was ever going to write as a call for help but even she had not replied to him in the past two weeks.

Harry was going spare if this kept up. He had no way of dealing with anything. He couldn't talk to anyone around him about what had happened without risking the Statute and even if he somehow could talk to someone then they would just brush it off as some sort of mental illness or psychosis or general insanity.

He had debated writing to Sirius a couple of times. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Last time he had written to Sirius about his nightmares, Sirius had returned to the country which at the best of times was a bad idea for any escaped convict. He didn't even have an alternative to Hedwig and as much as he loved his owl, she was not really what you would call inconspicuous. Snow-white feathers and amber eyes so deep and loving that they really shouldn't have been on an owl.

At times it felt like she was his only actual friend. Harry reached for his glasses and turned to look at the open cage on the rickety desk. She wasn't there. Then again, he wasn't surprised. It was in the middle of the night and as much as Hedwig was a special owl, she was still nocturnal and hunted during the night.

Harry debated with himself whether he should try to sleep again. It almost didn't seem like it would be worth it to try. His mind wandered to Cedric once more. Their rivalry had turned into a friendship over the last year. Cedric hadn't really believed him in the beginning but after Harry had told him about the first task last year Cedric had more than paid him back for the information.

They had had to keep their friendship secret. Harry had specifically requested that they didn't talk in public but only met at night. Harry could move around the castle unnoticed and Cedric was a prefect. Cedric had offered to teach Harry in the evenings. They would meet almost every night. Harry had even confided in Cedric that he might have noticed Cho Chang from Ravenclaw. That had been an awkward conversation only because Cedric had had to tell Harry that him and Cho had just recently become a couple.

He had asked her out directly after the first task. Harry supposed that a direct face-to-face with a dragon had a motivating factor on making sure that you didn't regret not doing anything. He had been sad that he hadn't had a chance with her but thinking about it they deserved each other at least in Harry's head.

It had made the Yule Ball a bit more difficult but with Cedric's help and guidance it hadn't been all that bad. He had even helped Harry with dance classes. Harry would never had admitted it at the time but of all the dances he had enjoyed during his fourth year at Hogwarts it was the dances with Cedric in his arms or the other way around which Harry had enjoyed the most.

Cedric… Harry wasn't sure what it was about Cedric, but he had come to fill the same position to him as Cho did. It was almost tragically fitting that the two people Harry crushed on ended up together leaving him as the third wheel.

It was all so confusing. He hadn't understood why Cedric dying to a Killing Curse had felt like having his heart ripped out until Cedric's ghost… imprint… whatever it was had talked to him while his and Voldemort's wands had been connected.

That single sentence after Cedric had requested to bring back his body to his parents kept ringing in his head.

"I could have come to love you too…"

Was that what he had felt for Cedric? Did he love him? Harry honestly didn't know what love even was. He had felt some sort of love from Sirius. Even if it had been completely insane for Sirius to sneak back into the country and live in a cave while the tournament happened, it showed that he cared.

They had been the only ones who cared. Sirius and Cedric. Hermione had cared too but it almost felt like she cared because she was supposed to care not because it was him it was happening to. It certainly didn't feel like she cared now.

Two weeks were no one had replied. Two weeks in his own personal hell. That's it. He was writing Sirius. He could not survive with all of his thoughts constantly churning around in his head. He needed someone who would write him back. He needed someone to talk to him. Someone to talk about Cedric with.

He reached for a block of paper and a discarded biro. He still felt that parchment and quills were ridiculous. Maybe he should get a fountain pen next time he was in Diagon Alley. It would do just as well as a quill in Harry's not so humble opinion.

Hey Snuffles

I know I am not supposed to write you, but I am honestly going crazy here. I keep having the same nightmares about that night. I keep seeing that every time I lose my eyes. I need someone. Anyone who I can talk to. Don't come, I want you to keep safe but I'm going insane. Every time I close my eyes I see his smile. I see his ghost looking at me with fondness and I am terrified. I haven't slept properly in weeks. I don't know what I am supposed to do.

I keep going back to thinking what he would have wanted me to do. I just don't know.

H

Harry looked over the letter. He tried to see if there was anything incriminating that would make sense to anyone not in the know. He couldn't see anything, so he just sat back and thought. Like he always did during the nights after he had woken up.

He knew what he would have wanted him to do. He had told him so, so many times he had told him so. He would have wanted Harry to do the best he could have done. So why shouldn't he?

He had all his books. Why shouldn't he do the best he could do? He picked up his first year Charms book from the pile in the broken closet. He was honestly surprised that Vernon hadn't tried to burn them yet, or maybe he had but couldn't. He honestly didn't know; he was just thankful that it was here.

Harry spent the next week reviewing. He had sent the letter off to Sirius as soon as Hedwig had returned for the night. Sirius had sent back a book and a small letter saying that it had helped him with his nightmares from Azkaban. It was a book about meditation and how to sort through his memories. Sirius had suggested that he should meditate before going to bed and after he had woken up from a nightmare.

Harry had already begun to find the techniques helpful. He felt more grounded after he had spent time meditating. His memories seemed clearer but more distanced. He had an easier time recalling the knowledge. He found that he could review faster after a session. He was still reading through his first-year curriculum. Even skimming it helped him retain it faster.

It had taken him four days to read through his first-year charms book and now three days later he was more than halfway through his Transfiguration book. He was surprised how much clearer the material was to him. Whenever he meditated, he imagined a large bookcase where he would store his memories. It was almost like he was standing in front of the bookcase whenever he reached the state of nothingness.

He had also taken to bringing his book with him outside. He had even reached a tentative understanding with his relatives. Something else he would have to thank Sirius for if he ever met him again. Apparently, the threat of a mass murderer visiting if they didn't treat him okay was enough for them to leave him alone. He still worked in the garden. It was an easy way to practice the techniques from his Herbology books. He wasn't ever going to be as good in that subject as Neville Longbottom, but he was more in tune with the plants. It was a funny feeling honestly. It was like he had begun to instinctively understand what they needed. It had been enough for him to gain some amount of good will from Petunia.

She would give him extra food if her roses were the best in Little Whinging. Harry was fine with that. He had earned free access to water and he wasn't being handed the scraps anymore at least while Vernon wasn't around. She had also taken to leaving the backdoor open for him and didn't care if he was out late if he just didn't wake them up at all. Harry was fine with that. The less they cared the more freedom he got. It was a little sad but then again so was his existence at Privet Drive.

He knew he was going to finish up his book on Transfiguration while he was out today, but he had decided to not bring another book this time. He had found a park nearby where he could meditate. He still had to dodge Dudley and his gang but then again he never really looked up, so most of the time Harry would just crawl up into a tree he had found with a big enough branch that he wasn't worried of falling off.

It hadn't taken long for him to finish writing the notes in the margins of his book, so he decided to meditate until he was hungry. He could probably last until late afternoon if he really reached deep. Harry closed his eyes and focused on his breathing and the rustling of leaves all around him. He slowly descended into himself and once more stood in front of his bookcase. The corner of his lips lifted a little when he spotted a copy of his transfiguration book in the bookcase next to the charms book, he had seen there earlier. He looked around and found a smattering of loose paper and parchment strewn around the bookcase. It was the same after he had finished up the charms book. He reasoned that it was every memory he had pertaining to the material, so he slowly began sorting through it memories flashing as he did so. He knew that the end product would be a journal type thing with the memories which he would place in the bookcase. He was just about to be finished sorting those memories when he was pulled out of his meditative state by a voice.

"Hey there."

Harry opened his eyes and looked down. He found a youth he hadn't seen before. Blue eyes and brown hair with a heart shaped face.

"Hey," Harry said a little warily. "Never seen you before."

"I would be surprised if you did," the youth said. "Name's Jack."

"Harry."

"So… what are you doing up there?"

"Meditating," Harry said. "Helps sort out my thoughts and memories."

"And why would you do that?" Jack asked.

"I would probably go insane if I didn't," Harry sighed. "You lost or something?"

"Not really," Jack said. "Just new to the area. You seemed interesting."

"I'm not," Harry said. "Rather boring actually."

"Really?" Jack lifted an eyebrow with a smirk. "Not from what I've heard. You're quite famous."

"Oh?" Harry said. "What have you heard?"

"That you are an incurable criminal, something about some drowned puppies and that you are a good for nothing," Jack said.

"And what do you think?" Harry asked.

"It's a load of crock," Jack said. "If you were you would run around with that group of vandals tearing up the playground."

"Oh, you've met my cousin then," Harry said.

"I see the resemblance," Jack said.

"I very much doubt that," Harry said.

"You're right," Jack laughed.

Nice laugh, Harry thought to himself. Really nice laugh.

"So, you going to stay up there?" Jack asked.

"I thought about it," Harry said. "Nice and breezy up here."

"Then scootch over," Jack said. "I'm coming up."

Harry lifted an eyebrow with incredulity. He wasn't serious, was he? Apparently, he was. Jack had already begun climbing up. Harry took a closer look at him. Jack was frankly what you would call cool. Ripped jeans and a t-shirt with a band logo on it. He even had a leather something jacket. Harry wasn't really sure why Jack was wearing it. It was hot outside. Harry watched as Jack pulled himself up next to him but when he was just about turn and sit down one of his hands slipped and Harry instinctively pulled Jack close to his chest.

"Careful there," Harry whispered. "Wouldn't want such a pretty face getting hurt."

Harry had expected anything but that reaction. He honestly wasn't even sure why he had said it but it had just felt like the right thing to say. Jack had gripped his t-shirt tightly in his hands and was blushing. Harry didn't release his arm around his waist until he was sure that Jack wouldn't fall down from the tree.

"You alright?" Harry asked.

Jack nodded mutely and breathed in deeply. Harry felt a little self-conscious. He had been working earlier in the day in Petunia's garden and while he wasn't dirty there was still a faint hint of sweat clinging to his body. He removed the arm around Jack's waist and leaned back against the trunk of the tree.

"Welcome to Harry's branch," Harry said.

"Nice and thick," Jack said.

Harry stuttered and blushed.

"Sorry," Jack laughed. "I had to get you back for the pretty face comment."

"Sure," Harry said.

"What's this?" Jack asked, picking up Harry's transfiguration book.

"Ah," Harry panicked. "It's nothing…"

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Jack said. "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. You into Dungeons and Dragons or something?"

"Something," Harry said. "Just some ideas for writing I suppose."

"Cool," Jack said.

"How old are you?" Harry asked.

"You know you're not supposed to ask a lady about her age?" Jack said.

"I'm not though," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure I'm asking a bloke about his age."

"Right," Jack said. "Just turned Eighteen. You?"

"I'll be fifteen in a couple of weeks," Harry said. "You not bothered about hanging out with a 'little boy'?"

"If the conversation is good then the conversation is good," Jack said. "Don't really care for your age."

Harry sat back. It was refreshing in a way. Everyone around him treated him like a kid but he hadn't ever felt like a kid. He was funny really. When he was forced to save the day then they didn't treat him like a kid but as soon as the day had been saved the 'adults' around him tried to treat him like a kid again.

Cedric had never treated him like a child. That was part of why Harry had gravitated towards him. He had treated him like an equal in the same situation. It was part of what had made Cedric special.

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asked.

"A friend," Harry said.

"Want to talk about them?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"He's dead," Harry said, opening his eyes.

The past week of meditation might have made it easier to distance himself from the memory, but it still hurt as it was supposed to. Cedric was gone. Harry would never hear his voice again. He would never have another conversation with him. He just didn't exist anymore. He wasn't even sure if he wanted Cedric to return as a ghost just for that one last conversation.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

"Why are you sorry?" Harry asked. "It wasn't your fault he died."

"How did he die?" Jack asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Harry said.

"Try me," Jack said.

"Alright," Harry said. "Cedric was killed in front of me by the same murderer who killed my parents."

"Wow," Jack said. "That's intense."

"So, you believe me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I don't see why you would lie about that," Jack said. "Would be a real shitty thing to lie about."

"It would," Harry nodded.

"How did you get away?"

"I ran," Harry said.

"Good," Jack said.

"What?" Harry opened his eyes and looked at the young man next to him.

"It's good that you ran," Jack said. "What were you supposed to do? A murderer just killed your friend."

"I see your point," Harry said. "Doesn't change the fact that I failed him."

"Could you have done anything to save him?" Jack asked.

"No," Harry said. "It was a real shitty situation."

"Then it isn't your fault," Jack said simply. "You did the best you could in that situation. Did you tell the police?"

"In a way," Harry said. "The murderer hasn't been seen since I was a baby until that night. A real serial killer too. They don't want to believe he's back. Why am I telling you all this?"

"I guess I just have a trustworthy face," Jack teased. "People tell me stuff."

"I see," Harry said.

Harry closed his eyes again and rested his head against the trunk once more. He didn't want to talk about it but he didn't want to not talk about it either. He wasn't even sure why he was talking to this Jack person. It was like he remembered someone from an old memory, but the memory was of pink.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Pink," Harry said absentmindedly.

"Pink?" Jack chuckled.

"I don't even know why," Harry said. "It's like it's an old memory."

"Okaaaaay," Jack said. "And what made you think about that?"

"You," Harry said, opening his eyes.

Green met Grey. Harry held Jack's gaze until Jack broke it, turning his head. Harry chuckled softly. He supposed it might have been rude for him to stare like that.

"I have no idea why I would remind you of pink," Jack said. "You want to grab something to eat?"

"Not hungry," Harry said.

Except he was betrayed by his own stomach rumbling like an untamed heard of hippogriffs. He looks somewhat sheepishly at Jack while he lowers himself down from the branch and drops the last couple of feet to the ground.

"Yeah, sure, whatever kid," Jack said. "Coming?"

"Don't call me that."

Harry's voice had turned a little strained.

"Sorry," Jack said. "Anything else I shouldn't call you?"

"Boy," Harry said. "Freak too I guess. Wouldn't like for you to call me a liar either."

"Wow," Jack said. "Got it. Squirt it is."

"I'm not that small," Harry said. "We are almost the same height and you are like what? Three years older than me?"

"Something like that," Jack said. "Fine. I'll just call you handsome then."

Harry almost lost his balance as he was about to lower himself down to the ground the book tucked neatly between his legs until it wasn't and fell down. Was Jack flirting with him?

"Ow!"

"Sorry," Harry said looking down at Jack who was rubbing his forehead.

"No worries," Jack said. "I should probably have gotten out of the way."

Harry jumped the last bit of the way and landed solidly on his feet. He picked up his book and tilted his head up to look at Jack who was still rubbing his forehead. Harry extended his hand and gently ran his fingers over the slightly red mark.

"Want me to give it a kiss to make the pain go away?" Harry asked cheekily.

"As if," Jack scowled. "Come on. There's got to be some place around here where we can get some grub."

"Lead the way then," Harry said.

"Aren't you supposed to be the expert on the area?" Jack asked. "Remember I'm new around here."

"Right," Harry said. "I know there's a chicken shop around here somewhere."

"Sounds good," Jack said. "I'm buying."

Harry turned to lead Jack out of the park and down a couple of streets. It wasn't a big place, but it would do the trick, he supposed. He had heard Dudley talk to his friends about this place a couple of times. He hadn't ever been there himself, so he honestly didn't know if it was any good.

"Two chicken strip burgers and some wings," Jack said.

"Right away."

Jack took a seat at a nearby booth and gestured for Harry to join him.

"Tell me about yourself," Jack said. "Where'd you go to school?"

"Boarding school up in Scotland," Harry said. "I'll only stay here until the end of the month."

"Why's that?" Jack asked.

"Usually I go visit friends after that," Harry said. "Then in September it's back to school for me until next summer."

"So, you don't see your family until next summer?"

Harry tried to keep the icy look out of his eyes but he must have failed if Jack's face was any indicator.

"Don't like them?" Jack asked.

"They are what they are," Harry said. "We don't usually see eye to eye."

"Okay," Jack said. "But they treat you alright?"

"This summer, sure," Harry said. "What about you?"

"What about me what?" Jack asked.

"What do you do?" Harry asked.

"Oh me?" Jack said. "Law enforcement."

"Aren't you a little young for that?" Harry asked.

"Still in the academy," Jack said. "But it's okay. I got a really good mentor even if he is somewhat of a paranoid psycho sometimes."

"Huh," Harry said. "How psycho?"

"Jumping at shadows level psycho," Jack laughed.

"You alright?" Harry asked.

"Sheesh, Handsome," Jack said. "I'm fine. He's a good teacher."

Harry shrugged his shoulders at that. Jack was an only child and his father was a lawyer while his mother was a doctor. He had wanted to do something to protect people. One of his aunts were in prison for murder, so he felt like he wanted to do something good to make up for it.

The food was nice as well. Harry hadn't ever eaten junk food like this before and the orange soda was a first as well. He even thought about whether he could change some of his galleons into muggle currency the next time he was at Gringotts so he could go out like this again.

Harry turned to the clock on the wall and almost began to panic. He might have gotten free reign to roam around but he was still getting late by the time they'd eaten their food. He quickly apologized to Jack for having to leave and ran for the door.

Harry barely made it back in time before he would have to start cooking for the Dursleys. He just hoped that Vernon hadn't gotten home yet as he quickly but quietly moved into the kitchen through the back door.

"Where have you been?" an angry snarl reached his ear.

"Out," Harry said quickly. "I'll have dinner ready soon."

"You won't get to eat if it isn't ready by the time Vernon gets home," Petunia said before she walked out of the kitchen.

Hope she chokes on a rat, Harry thought to himself as he reached for the pans.

He just barely plated the food by the time Vernon came through the front door. Harry had already begun retreating to his room. He didn't need the credit for the cooking and it was easier to just skimp off with a portion for himself if Vernon didn't spot him.

Petunia would get the credit for cooking and Harry would have some food to eat when he was hungry. It was a win-win situation as far as they were concerned. He quickly closed the door right before he heard Vernon's booming voice downstairs.

"Has he done all his chores, Pet?"

"Yes," Petunia said.

"You know I love your cooking," Vernon said loud enough for Harry to hear him. "But don't you think we are being too lax on him?"

"You don't need to worry about that, Vern," Petunia said. "I don't trust him not to poison our food if I don't cook it myself."

What a load of shit, Harry thought. Then again it sounds like something…

"Right you are, Pet," Vernon said. "Better safe than sorry."

Harry looked through his closet to find another book when it hit him. He had forgotten his book while at the Chicken Shop with Jack.

Shit, is that some sort of breaking the Statute? What if someone finds it? What would Jack think about it? He thought it might be some Dungeons and Dragons thing. Maybe he won't think too much about it. I hope I run into him again. I'll just ask if he has seen it. It'll be fine.

At least that was what Harry told himself as he tried to sit down to meditate before going to sleep.