"Hey, Spencer?" Harry chimed from the entrance to the office. He really didn't want to waste his time trying to maneuver through the ever-changing mountains of books of Spencer's new shipments.

                "Yeah, 'arry?"

                "Can I, talk, to you for a moment?" Harry called into the room.

"Sure, sure. Wait up a minute, laddy, I gotta find me way outta here." Harry leaned on the doorframe and watched as some of the mountains quivered as an unseen person walked by them. Finally, the aged man came out of one of the canyons nearby and walked over to Harry. "Whatcha got t' say. I gotta git ready. Fourteen new titles to b' release in the morrow. Got to be ready."

                "Of course. Um, how do I put this. I'm becoming very busy, and I would like to change my schedule if that's alright with you." Harry said in the nicest voice he could muster.

                "Sure."

                "Right, um, how often do you need me to work, exactly?"

                "Hones'ly. I don't. But I like havin' you around. Yeh work hard, and yeh work well. I couldn't ask fer more."

                "Really?" Harry sputtered.

                "Abs'lutely."

                "Then could I just come like, four times a week, for the morning OR the afternoon, for one Galleon."

                "Why not? Am I goin' t' know when yer comin'?" Harry was quiet in thought.

                "Probably not." He said in a sigh. Why would any employer agree to that.

                "That's beautiful. Yeh know how much money yeh got from me? Huh? This is perfect. I don't need t' know when yer comin'. I'll just always have a bit o' work always ready for yeh. Don' worry 'bout it. Havin' some fun with th' lasses, are ya?"

                "NO! I mean no, but thanks for the thought, I'd really better be going. I'll see you…in a few days."

                "As yeh wish, Harry. Take care."

                "Yeah, Thanks Spencer. Bye." Harry strode from the doorway, and took the floo home.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                It was an awkward dinner. Usually Harry ate up in his room all alone, and only ate with the rest of the Dursleys when there was an occasion. All three of them eyed Harry warily, with varying amounts of disgust. It wasn't long until they all were done with their steak, and slowly finishing their cherry pie. Harry put down his fork, earning himself the attentive glances of the Dursleys. He made it like he didn't know that they were fearfully looking at him, but was laughing inside. Very slowly, he slipped his hand into his pocket, and noticed Dudley, and Aunt Petunia stopped eating, devoting all of their attention to him. He held a small manila envelope in the palm of his hand, before deliberately putting it in the center of the table. Even Vernon was watching now.

                Harry met each of their gazes, and smiled as they looked away when his eyes focused on each of theirs. He very slowly, reach out his hand, and lay it on the small package. As he pushed it towards Dudley, Petunia gasped. Harry quickly changed direction, pulling his hand off the package while it was situated in front of Uncle Vernon. Vernon sent him a questioning glance, and Harry nodded. Vernon picked up the envelope as Petunia started squeaking.

                Vernon knew Harry wouldn't do anything too horrid. Harry wasn't that type of person, to just go around hurting people. He felt the contents of the package. They seemed hard, like metal, and oddly shaped. As he bent back the two small clasps, Harry whispered a 'boo'. Petunia shrieked and Dudley jumped up. Harry fell back into his chair chuckling. He knew he was driving them mad.

                Finally, with the envelope open, Vernon inserted one of his chubby fingers and pulled out a key, attached by way of a ring, to a metal medallion with 'Cadillac' emblazoned  on it. Vernon saw Harry with a warm, friendly grin on his face. Harry nodded seeing the confusion his uncle's face. Petunia and Dudley looked between them, trying to fathom the meaning, but it was beyond them.

As if on queue, Uncle Vernon and Harry both stood up and casually walked to the door, before exiting the house. Petunia and Dudley exchanged a look, before running after them. They stopped on the front lawn as Vernon was standing next to the driveway, watching as Harry push a very new looking old fashioned automobile out of the garage. Petunia was ready to start screaming about the boy having to push the car out of the garage if it worked, and that if Vernon trusted the stupid boy, it would be best if the car exploded with his fat ass inside.

Vernon circled the vehicle, as if it were a lost fantasy come alive. He had his chubby index finger trace the lines of the aqua and white panels. Finally, he made to the open drivers door, and with a small amount of difficulty got in. The shock absorbers squeaked painfully. Vernon showed Harry a worried glance.

"Don't worry, I'll oil them later." Harry walked to the passenger side and gave Dudley and Petunia a look questioning if they were coming along. Petunia forcefully grabbed Dudley's arm stopping him from going along. Harry shrugged and jumped into the passenger seat beside his uncle.

It all happened in slow motion. He held the key inn his had, fidgeting before gathering the emotional strength to put it in the ignition. How long he'd waited to own a car like this, and now, now he finally had one. He just wished his father was alive to shout 'I told you so!' at the top of his lungs. But that was for later, as his arm automatically placed the key in the ignition. There was no resistance as it slid in ever so easily into the socket, begging to be turned over.

Harry watched with amusement as Uncle Vernon took a deep breathe before turning the key. As if anticipating this rebirth from shambles, the car roared to life, with a throaty growl. Vernon smiled and looked to Harry with infinite gratitude and pride. He actually wiped a tear from his eye. Harry could only smile. He cherished this makeshift father-son bonding, because he rarely ever got any. Vernon let down the roof, and grinned as the sky became the ceiling, an he shifted into gear as if the car was made of glass. The car crept very slowly out of the driveway, without touching any of the pedals. After they turned onto Privet Drive, Vernon touched the brakes and smiled again as the car stopped. Being after dinner, and in a growing darkness, Vernon switched on the headlights, and put on his seatbelt. Seeing the glint in his uncle's eye as he put on his seatbelt, Harry knew what was coming. He was going to finally find out what Yankees so keenly named a muscle car. Harry, in one swift movement grabbed his seatbelt and put it on, a blink before he felt the engine roar. There was a sharp lurch as the car began speeding at illegal speeds down Privet Drive. It was almost as good as riding his motorcycle, the wind whipping through his hair, the vibration reminding him of the life of the automobile.

After the rocket like launch, Harry and Vernon cruised along the highways and suburban roads, enjoying the peace and coolness of the night. When they arrived back at Privet drive, Harry could only feel that the wonderful time was too short, despite being two hours. They sat in the driveway, listening to the steady churning of the engine, letting the night sink in. Finally, with sadness in their eyes, the car was turned off and they exited the vehicle. No words could make up the emotions they were feeling. Harry of pride, a sense of accomplishment, and Vernon a feeling of rapture, of feeling something he dreamed of as a kid. They left the car, oil heard dripping into the oil pan, the smell of the fresh air still lingering in their noses.

Harry made his way up to his room, and lay down to go to sleep. But, as always, when still, thoughts come. It wasn't long until Cedric's ghostly face appeared behind Harry's eyes. In final desperation, Harry let the sequence of events come, and tried to alter the ending. The only thing that happened was Pettigrew curse him instead of Cedric. This brought a smile to his face. Not that death was welcoming, but he figured that in a way, it's inevitability made it wanted in a way. Like a warm cottage at the end of a road. The only wonder was whether the next cottage was yours, or if you had to wait, trudging through the bullshit they called life until you finally found your resting place.

It was the image of him not having to deal with the guilt, the emotional torture of being the cause of Cedric's death. He would not be seeing Cedric's pale face, frozen in horror, if he'd been the one killed. He would be with his parents,  he would be loved, and for once, he would be happy. And Cedric, he would be alive, happily planning his life with Cho, having snog sessions, maybe dreaming of owning a house with little Cedric's tumbling about. Plus, if Pettigrew had killed Harry straight off, Voldemort wouldn't have risen again. He would have found another way, and Cedric probably would have died sooner or later, his mind argued.

A sudden thought came. He wondered if Voldemort knew that he was having his thought. He would probably be laughing at him. Harry saw Voldemort appear before him, laughing the ice cold shrill shriek that Harry knew from his nightmares. All of a sudden he was surrounded by Voldemorts, all laughing at him as green flames rose around them. Their firey red eyes piercing into his mind and tearing him apart. Harry jumped up with his wand in hand, nervously glancing around the scores of Voldemorts, until his eyes found one, just watching him, with an evil smirk. Harry's emotions boiled over in hate and fury, and a need for revenge.

"AVADA KADAVRA" Harry screamed as he pointed his wand at the one smiling Voldemort. There was an abrupt change in setting, as Harry saw that he was in his room, and all was dark. He found himself feeling very lightheaded and dizzy, but he managed to turn on the lamp. He looked around the room, as the smell of something toxic burning caught his senses, and woke him up from his drowsy state. He touched his scar, expecting it to hurt, because he remembered every detail of the dream, but his scar was fully intact, but sore from the night before. He looked around his room. Looking for what he knew not, but his eyes rested on a large black spot on his white wall. It was smoking. He knew what that meant, and walked over to it, as if scared that it would bite him. He reached out a finger and touched the dark feature, expecting it to burn him, but it only collapsed into a very fine dust, revealing the inside of his wall. He began panting heavily, unsure what to do, looking at the plaster of his cousin's wall from the other side. It was black as well. He touched it, and sighed, seeing the it did not go through. It could have been a disaster. Harry decided that he had to make sure Dudley's room was intact anyway, and crept out of his room.

Once in the hallway, Harry knew his silencing charm no longer applied, and avoided the squeaky floorboards as he opened his cousin's door and crept in. He was surprised to see the lights on, and his cousin sitting in bed, his face white and his wobbly chin shaking. Harry followed the gaze to a spot on the wall, where it looked like someone slammed a blunt object into it. The paint was peeling and smoking, and stained greenish. If the wall hadn't held the curse, Dudley, would have been killed. Harry let out a sigh, and silently thanked any non-existent celestial beings. He walked over to the wall, and murmured 'restorus' to it. The bump disappeared and the wall resumed it's original shape. Harry then discarded all the paint nearby, and repainted the entire wall, the same color as before. The dizziness was getting to him, and he leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what to do about the wall in his room. It was at this time he noticed Dudley holding a real bow and arrow, pointed at Harry's head, not ten feet away.

"Y-y-you almost-t k-killed me." He said. It was not a question. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dudley knew it was the truth or was exaggerating his thoughts.

"It was an accident. I was sleeping, and…and I had a bad dream." Dudley didn't seem to believe him.

"You can't do magic when you're s-sleeping." Harry noticed that the bow was drawn, and he realized the danger of the situation.

"Not only can I do magic when I'm sleeping, I can do magic whenever the fuck I want to, and if you don't put that pathetic excuse for a weapon down, I will show you what magic can really do." Dudley froze. He never saw the storms congregate behind Harry's eyes. He never saw small, scrawny Harry ever look so...intimidating. In his fear he let the arrow go. Harry closed his eyes smiling, he would finally had his subconscious wish, to be with his parents, to stop feeling the pain, to find peace………………Harry opened his eyes to see Dudley shaking more then San Francisco in 1906. Dudley dropped his bow, and scampered back into his bed, crying aloud, awaiting Harry's wrath.

Harry thought he was dead, he felt no pain, just a little lightheaded. That was before he saw the arrow a centimeter away from his forehead, hovering in space. Harry reached up and wrapped his fingers around it, before plucking it out of the invisible force that held it there. He sighed aloud, and slid along the wall, slowly to the ground. This had to be the most fucked up situation he'd ever been in. He sent the killing curse at his wall, which turned to ash, he fixed his cousin's wall, was almost murdered, wanted to be murdered, was saved by god knows what, and scarred the shit out of his cousin. He was entitle to sigh. He knew what he had to do, but his energy was drained. Finally, he approached his cousin's bed, and smirked seeing Dudley trying to used his sheets as a shield from him. He could vaguely hear Dudley praying as well. He did not want resistance, but it had to be done, either the hard way or the easy way.

"Dudley, I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to talk to you for a second. Don't you think if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it already, instead of playing around. Come on. I'll explain everything to you. You'll like some of the stories I can tell you." There was only the quiet huffing of the hidden boy. "Many of the stories involve me being maimed in some way, you'll enjoy it. Come on, I don't bite"…"hard" he muttered under his breath. Slowly, Dudley's eye's peeped out from behind the sheets. He was very red in the face, and whimpering softly. Harry sat down on the floor to give the image that he wasn't going to do anything. As soon as Dudley's head was clear of the sheets, Harry pointed his wand at him, focused and said "Obliviate" very clearly. Dudley's eyes unfocused, and refocused on Harry.

"What are you doing in my room!?!?" Dudley said with shocked contempt. Harry jumped up while pocketing his wand.

"Fine, if you want to be mean to me, then I won't help you get laid. Do it on your own." Harry jogged out of the room, and into his own smiling the whole way. He had never accomplished that spell before, and was happy to be able to do so. He let out the air in his lungs, and felt as if his entire being flew out as well. He could feel a change entering his body, modifying his soul. Something was happening. Panic struck, but just as quickly disappeared. What if he died. He collapsed, unconscious, with that thought and a smile on his face.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry awoke to sudden speaking.

                "Poppy, how is our patient doing today?" Harry would have answered for himself but his had a crushing headache. He would have grabbed his head, but his arms were already in that position.

                "Fine Albus, but there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. I want to know what happened. Why there is a hole in the wall? I need to know what he did." He could sense her frustration rising.

                "I would enlighten you, alas, I am not aware myself." Dumbledore was as composed as ever.

                "I cannot believe you won't let me take him to Hogwarts, instead making me stay here with him and these, these muggles!!! Have they told you nothing?"

                "They know of none of Harry's doings, however…" Harry felt himself cringe, "…young Mr. Dursley is having a bit of a memory lapse. I have already tried minimal ways to try to refresh his memory, but I'm afraid if I try too hard there may be damage. Regrettably, that is not a path I wish to take."

                "So I have to wait for Potter to awake is it? I have been waiting for two days, Albus. Two days! Who knows who has gone to the Hospital wing in need of medical attention and I am stuck here."

                "I assure you, Poppy, all is well here. I would alert you if anything that required your attention arose." There was a moment of silence.

                "He's been out for two days since the pulse Albus. What does it mean? I can't help him if I don't know what it means.

                "He alone can inform us of his own doings."

                "Why can't we bring him to Hogwarts, again?"

                "He is safer here Poppy, and unless I am mistaken, he just wiggled his toes." Harry smiled at that. Nothing got by the man. Harry kept his arms wrapped around his head which felt like if he removed them, his head would fall apart. Slowly he sat up and looked around his room. Madame Pomfrey was standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot whilst Dumbledore stood erect as usual, with the twinkle in his eyes. "Good afternoon Harry. We were all very concerned about your health. How are you feeling?" Harry took a moment to put it best.

                "Like acid is slowly eating away at my brain." He groaned, as his eyes got adjusted to the light.

                "Lily had migraines as well. Take this." Harry carefully took a goblet of very water blue potion, and gulped it down slowly. It was a sweet fruity potion, and it made his headache vanish instantly. He opened his eyes all the way and took in his surroundings. The lack of light coming through the window made him aware that it was afternoon. He looked around and notice that the wall was still advertising it's large hole, roughly the size of the kitchen sink.

                "This is what we know, Harry. The magic detector sensed a magical impulse from this address. Do you understand what that means?" Dumbledore said, meeting Harry's gaze.

                "Vaguely."

                "It means that someone's magical energy was built up, then released. A large amount was released. Considering your coma I am right in assuming you performed the impulse?" It really wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway. "I see. Are you ready to shed light on this situation." Harry reflected on what he could remember. It wasn't whether or not to tell Dumbledore, it was…how.

                "I, uh, well…I hallucinated." Judging from the headmaster's expression, this was not the answer he was expecting. Harry ventured to continue. "I saw Voldemort, and I reacted…I, it was a dream, but my scar didn't hurt…I used the killing curse."  Madam Pomfrey had a sharp intake of breathe, but no one said anything. "It hit the wall." Harry nodded towards the hole in the wall.

                "May I ask why you were using such a deadly curse." Despite attempts, the waver in the headmaster's voice was present, and rightly so. The youngest person ever to successfully complete the killing curse was nineteen…Harry was four years younger than that.

                "It was Voldemort, does it matter?" Harry said, venom seeping through. And so they sat, each to their own thoughts, contemplating what to do. Ten minutes later, Harry dared to break the quiet. "I feel fine, you don't need to be here, Madam Pomfrey." She got the message, and eyed him suspiciously before leaving through the door. Dumbledore looked at him pointedly.

                "Harry, you had no training prior to this incident. This makes you very, dangerous and places you in a very pivotal situation."

                "I understand that."

                "Do you?" Dumbledore stated, not lacking amusement.

                "It would not be safe for me to return to Hogwarts. I feel that I am a danger to the students, and I would be better off here." Harry explained. Dumbledore's amusement quickly departed.

                "Harry…"

                "If I did that in the night, I could have hit anyone in the dormitory, Ron included. It is not safe for me to be there."

                "Arrangements can be made for you to sleep in a more comfortable atmosphere."

                "There's more to it than that."

                "I'm listening." The wizened man said. Harry sighed. This was hard to say, but it was the truth, and it needed saying.

                "I don't want to go back. I'm not ready to face Cedric again." His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word seemed to ring inside the room.

                "I can understand your emotions, however, I feel certain that this decision will only be ripe to be made when the start of term is much, much nearer." Harry nodded. He didn't expect Dumbledore to understand, nor did he feel the strength to say it. He never waned to go back.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                He stared at the luster of the steel. It was so hypnotic, the reflective shine, the mechanical preciseness of it. He held it up in the twilight, wishing it to do what he struggled so hard to do. But it only stared back. Lifeless, and cold as ice. An animal shrieking stole his gaze out of the window. Dark clouds which had been gathering started a steady rain, increasing the gloomy thickness of the air. Harry felt his soul suffocating slowly, and it was time to end it. To finally throw away the trash forced upon him, and free himself from the torturous bonds he was restricted by. He nervously fingered the metal, wondering why he had chosen a stainless steel blade, did he not want infection to follow? He would be dead if it went as planned, but nothing went as planned in his life, not even a simple walk to the park. He hardened his resolve. If he ever wanted peace, if he ever wanted to be loved, he had to do this. He had to be strong and do this, or was he just being weak? Did it even matter? He wasn't the same person he used to be. His face looked deathly pale, with sallow eyes that reflected his slow death inside. His body felt shriveled, and his mind tired. He didn't have the motivation any longer, he didn't want to go any further. He just wanted…peace. Peace from the press, peace from the public, peace from his friends, peace from his enemies, peace from…himself. He was the cause of all this. With him gone, all the world's problems would go away, his problems would go away, he would be safe. No more looking over his shoulder, no more worrying about everything. This was it. He had to do it, to save the world.

                He placed the sharp end of the blade against his skin, and pushed down firmly, but shallowly. Nothing happened, he felt the cold hard metal, but it did not pierce. He felt the blood flow to the spot on his wrist, the thick passionate juices trying to get out, helping him to end it. Very slightly, he slid the blade, and felt the sting. It was dull and ironically enjoyable. It tickled in some sense. In his growing excitement, he dug one of the corners of the blade into his flesh, and felt the sudden sharp jolt of pain. It was screaming at him to stop, that his friends needed him. The world needed him. Fuck the world. His mind screamed back, as he watched the blood steadily coat his hand. But Hermione, she reached out to him. She alone felt his troubles, and attempted to reconcile any conflicts of interest. She wanted him alive.

                In fear of his own actions he threw the razor onto his desk. It bounced erratically until it came to a rest on his desk chair. He couldn't look at his arm in shame, but saw the smear of blood on the once clean and lustrous edge. Guilt and shame overflowed his emotional pool. He had to get out, he had to get away. He didn't trust himself with his own welfare any longer. He had gone too far, he had stretched his limits. He needed a break. He needed to break away.

                BANG. He raced out of the house and away from the village. He ran as fast as he could, away from people. He just ran, the rain soaking his body, and fogging his vision, his body screaming  for him to go in every direction. His mind tearing itself apart. Time passed in slow motion, but the scenery changed in a flash. When he stopped, he felt the cramps all over his body; his arms, his legs, his chest contracting fiercely. He was in a small clearing surrounded by trees in the pouring rain, not a sign of humans anywhere. He was leaning on the trunk of a young tree, and slid to the ground. His hand covered in blood and water, he smiled expressionlessly at the world, and slowly seeped into a dreamless sleep. His death would just have to wait.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Something told him to wake up. He just opened his eyes and looked around. He wasn't at all surprised by his placement at the base of a tree. It felt natural to be there. It felt like he should have been there a long time ago. But then there was that feeling that it was time to wake up. The sun. Of course, the sun. No electronic beeping alarm clocks, not relatives banging on the door, the sun, and only the sun. It was still early in the morning, he chose not to check his watch. It would only show him numbers, and numbers didn't mean anything here anyway. He glanced at his left hand and cringed as he saw that it was caked in blood. Reflecting, he was glad he wasn't dead, but at the same time, unsure whether he should be dead or not. He could swear being told that slitting the wrists wouldn't clot, and cause a person to bleed to death. Yet he was very much alive, and admiring the greenery around him. A shuffle in the underbrush alerted him of a fox, that looked into his eyes, before curiously trotting away. Harry couldn't help but feel that this was where he belonged.

                He could see no houses, nor hear any cars. This was what life was intended to be. This was important.

Hey everybody. I'm sorry this took so long, and that it's so short. Finals are coming up in 2 weeks and I have little time. I hope you understand.

That little section of Harry and the razor was kinda dark. A little scary even. I didn't know I had it in me. I suppose that's what listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon will do to you.

2 people have me on their favorite's list. I cannot tell you how touched I am by this. I don't even know who these people are. Identify yourselves!

Paladin Steelbreaker – Thank you for reviewing. It probably would be better for Harry to embrace the idea of bringing Hermione closer, but in my fic, I am trying to build him as being unstable, and he knows he is unstable. He doesn't trust himself to be close to her, so he makes lame excuses to push her away. She is his greatest weakness, while being his greatest strength.

Stoneheart – Nappa is looking over his shoulder at me? Really? I don't mind the short review. It's better than nothing. I would also like to say your fics are enjoyable as well. Everyone here should take a peek.

Thank you to everyone else as well; MythX, Vagrantshadow, Wraith, thefly, Condor5, and makulit. I LOVE YOU ALL!

People, tell me how you want this story to go, and what you think of it so far. It doesn't take long to click that button and say what is on your mind, even if it is something like "This story is crap." I want to hear what you have to say.