Harry's POV

Bloody hell. My head is absolutely killing me. Where am I? How did I get here? Whose clothes am I wearing? Ugh, it's all a blur. I'm surprised I don't feel worse. Besides a headache, my body doesn't really feel hungover. I got back to London yesterday, and my "family" was really unenthused about it. Honestly, I think they were under the assumption that I had left for good after graduation. I needed a place to crash since Ron and Hermione aren't really speaking to me. We haven't really fought, but I blew them off enough times, I'm sure they're over me. Uncle Vernon was absolutely obnoxious. He kept asking me when I planned on leaving, and that it would look bad if I hung around too long. I couldn't bear the nagging from Aunt Petunia either. She kept telling me that I needed to get a job and move on with my life. Believe me, bitch, I would if I could.

After school I was scouted by several quidditch teams, as they all hoped I would be as brilliant as my father. He was recruited while he was still at school, and played professionally for about 3 years before he and mum died. He was an international sensation, and seeing as quidditch is the most popular wizarding sport, I became the talk of the town the moment I was born. Even at school I was an absolute legend, even though I had not done anything yet. I was put on the quidditch team in my first year, because I got special permission. I didn't ask for it, it just happened. Hell, at 11 years old, I was just so excited to be popular. The thing is, I don't think I want to be a quidditch player. Sure, I'm fairly good, but I would be known as James Potter's son, and not Harry. I'm utterly sick of that. I love my father, and know he would want me to follow my own passions, but the world seems to think it knows better. I want to be an auror. I truly believe that is my calling. If I become and auror, I'll let millions of people down. If I become a quidditch player, I will let myself down. I wish someone would just tell me what to do.

Fuck, I'm spiraling again. I need a drink to clear my head and to get rid of this headache.

As I got up from the bed, my mind continued to reel. Where am I? Okay, what do I remember? Well, my aunt and uncle were being ridiculous, so I decided to drink a glass or two of fire whiskey. That helps me relax even when they are nagging. Uncle Vernon got angry with me, cause I started arguing back. The liquor had kicked in and I didn't care anymore. He told me to get out, so I did. I decided to bewitch his car and go find someone to talk to. I don't technically know how to drive a muggle car, but figured I could enchant it enough to get me where I wanted to go. This also prevented me from drinking and driving. I'm brilliant, I know. Who did I want to see, though? I remember getting out of downtown London, and into another superb, but after that it's a bit hazy. Ugh, my body hurts so bad. Feel like I fell 500 feet from my broomstick.

I made it down the stairs, and was rummaging through the cabinets. I didn't see or hear anyone around, so I assume no one is home. This house has to have some liquor somewhere. I just need a bit to help the headache subside. I accidentally dropped a tea cup and it smashed on the ground. I tried to repair it, but my wand is gone. Whoever has me here took my wand. Well shit.

"Well well, Mr. Potter." I heard the familiar voice right behind me, and I froze. I'm with Snape? I went to see fucking Snape? I must have really been drunk.

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