A/N: So sorry this is late! I was uninspired and really couldn't concentrate on anything! (Including the midterm I had coming up!) I do apologize.

A/N 2: Something I think I should note. While I am still going to have Remus and Sirius together (as in slash gentle readers!), I will not go into details. Several reasons: not really crucial to the plot, I am actually in a giving mood and thought that I should be nice to ALL my readers, and I'm not quite sure that I'm that good of writing that sorta thing. It will be mentioned and there may be kissing, but not that much, more like a gentle breeze in the background. Just thought you should know.

Thanks to reviewers:

Freda Potter

Book Master 3000

Ameve-chan

Lizzie24

thewalrus

lizzypadfoot

julie

darkphenix - I didn't think your review was the semi-flame.. Now that I think about it, I really can't remember which one was. It could have just been my frame of mind at the time.

Minerva-Severus-Dumbledor

Mynaulth

CrazyCruciatedDeathEater

Zeva Blackrose

athena kitty

^*^*^

It was eight o'clock the next morning when Remus and Sirius were awoken by a very hyper (blame the latte's, they grow on a person after living in the northwest for six years) designer. It was nine o'clock when they finally arrived at the local home improvement store.

"So, do you want to get everything for the kitchen while we're out and about, or do you want to get the painting finished before we do anything else?" asked James as he finished putting in the order for the paint they would need, not only for the kitchen, but also for several other rooms.

"I would actually like to get as much painting done as soon as possible so Hermione can come over and see the progress. Can we do that? Paint as many rooms as possible before we start putting things in?" asked Sirius.

"We can. I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why not?"

"After doing nothing but painting for five days straight, you get a little sick and tired of it. What we can do, however, is have several rooms being worked on at once." James paused as he was given several gallons of paint for the kitchen. "Or, you could just hire professional painters to paint all the rooms at once. It would save a lot of time."

"No. I don't want strange people trampling though my house. And I want to paint," whined the animagus.

James looked at the silent werewolf in disbelieve.

"Don't look at me! He watched one episode of Changing Rooms and got it in his head that he could do that. But, being Sirius, he had to do it slightly different."

"Oh, you mean with not actually changing rooms, hiring a designer, and doing the entire house?"

Remus smiled. "Exaclty."

"So, do I get to work with power tools?" Sirius innocently asked.

~*~*~*~*~

It was late afternoon when the three weary shoppers made it back to Mutt's Domain. (When James heard that they wanted a sign sitting in their front lawn that said that, he had to step outside to 'view the best place to put the sign.' In reality, he was trying very hard to not burst into laughter. It was all about the way his godfather said it. So, innocent, but with a devil like glint in his eyes.)

The first thing they saw when they stepped inside, arms full of stuff, was a blonde head of hair talking to a red head of hair with a small child of one asleep in the arms of the red head.

"Ron, Draco? What are you guys doing here?" asked Remus as they all set their load down by the front door.

"You know that lead I was telling you about yesterday? Turns out it was true. We now know where Harry disappeared off to and possibly where he is living now," answered Ron.

"Only problem is, if he changed his name or appearance, we're going to have a hell of a time. Especially since we really have no jurisdiction there and have no idea about the area or anything," added Draco.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Where did he go and where is he now?" Sirius practically shouted.

"I was getting there. Seamus and I leave tonight for the states. West coast if I'm not mistaken. I think Seamus was going on about how he could actually have some decent coffee, not quite sure about that one. Not that he needs the damn stuff anyways," Draco answered.

"Draco, if Aubrey wasn't in the room, I would be cursing you to hell and back right now. Where. Exactly. Are. You. Going."

"What about new guy? You would curse me in front of a Muggle?"

At this, James spoke up, "I'm not a Muggle. Actually, I should get going. Do you need any help unloading the rest of the paint?"

"No, we should be fine. Eight tomorrow to start painting?" answered Remus.

"Sounds like a plan. See you then." James then tried to make a quick exit, but was stopped by a godfather on a mission.

"Wait, didn't you say you were from the states?"

"Siri, the states is a big place," the amused werewolf said.

"Yeah, but he said he was from, where was it again?" Sirius asked as he turned to James.

"Portland, Oregon."

"And isn't that on the west coast?"

"Actually, I think that's where Harry is rumored to currently be living. In any case, that's where we're headed," interjected Draco.

"See, you can ask James."

"Portland's pretty big," James said rather quietly.

Draco sighed. There was nothing this man wouldn't do to find his godson. The wizarding world almost felt the same way. Hence why there was currently five people assigned for the past six years to find him. After all, you can't properly celebrate with out your hero. "Fine. James, do you know anyone named Harry Potter? He has black, messy hair, emerald green eyes, and a lighting bolt scar on his forehead. Sound familiar?"

James didn't answer for a second. To those around him, it seemed as though he was thinking, when in reality, he was trying hard not to smile and let out a slight chuckle. "No."

"Are you satisfied, Sirius?"

"I won't be satisfied until he is standing right in front of me," was the answer.

'If you turn a little to your left, I'm sure that can be arranged,' James wanted to say, but because he was also trying desperately not to laugh, didn't. (And also the fact that he didn't really want to be found at that particular second. He still had work to do.)

"I have a meeting with the director this evening. I really do need to get going," said James.

The standard goodbyes were said and James finally was able to escape and let out the laughs that he had been holding in. 'That was just surreal. No other word for it,' he thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After meeting with his boss for a while, he walked across the street to his hotel room. Once there, he started figuring out his schedule. The way he figured, without any delays, he could be back home in three months. And then he remembered that he also had to design his cousin's house. He sighed and allotted another month. 'At least Dudley will probably want to hire professional painters and not make me do all the work by hand,' was the positive thought. Not that he didn't enjoy it. This was something he hadn't done in a while; actually getting involved in a room he designed.

James got everything ready for the next day and crawled into bed and hoped for a dreamless night. But it seemed as though his past still wanted to haunt him. For when he dreamed, he dreamed of the reason he left, the reason why he couldn't face his family, his friends, and his world. He dreamed of when he defeated Voldermort.

~*~*~*~*~

The battle had been going on for hours. Both sides were taking losses. From where he stood, he couldn't tell if they were dying, or just being stunned, or were just falling from exhaustion. Whatever the case, there were more bodies lying on the ground than there were standing.

Harry himself had yet to get involved in the fight. Not because he didn't want to, because he did want to go down there and help his friends, do his part, but because he was trapped on this damned hilltop, waiting.

'If Tom doesn't get here soon, I think I just might take up knitting,' he thought as he saw the number of people standing dwindle still. By now he knew that some were dropping from exhaustion because he had just seen someone fall when there was no one around him. 'Damn it Tom. You've been trying to kill me for the past seven years. And now, when you have the perfect opportunity, you don't show up. How typical.'

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when the person that had made his life a living hell for the past three years finally showed up.

"And here I was, thinking that you wouldn't show up. This is not like you Tom. I would have thought you would have been here hours ago."

"I was a little preoccupied. But I won't keep you waiting from meeting your parents any longer. Avada Kedavra," Voldermort calmly said.

The curse hit Harry square in the chest. He didn't even try to move or block it. He just took it. And he stood standing.

"Tom, you should know by now that you can't kill me that way. You've tried how many times now? I think this would bring the total up to four. You had better hope this one leaves a different scar. I'm getting sick of lightning bolts."

Voldermort was flabbergasted. Granted, this was the fourth time that the Killing Curse had hit the Gryffindor brat by his wand, but it was still surprising. He was so flabbergasted that he never noticed when Harry unsheathed Gryffindor's sword and ran it though his heart, successfully killing him and banishing his soul to hell.

It was probably a good thing that he died almost instantly; for then he didn't have to feel the blade cut though his flesh, again and again. He didn't have to feel when his limbs where almost severed from his body. He didn't have to feel when his head was disconnected from his remains. He didn't have to live with the aftermath of a barely recognizable corpse. For Tom Riddle was dead and gone, his soul currently residing in the depths of hell for all eternity.

But Harry had to live with it. What he couldn't live with was his friends' reactions to what he had done. He couldn't live with the wizarding world thinking he was anything less than a hero, because he had grown used to the idea that everyone needed someone to find hope in, and he was where they found that hope. He couldn't let that many people down. He couldn't let them loose their hope. So he left.

Three months later, Harry Potter was only a memory and James Evans was born from his ashes.

A/N: I know that didn't really seem like a dream, but I think it went rather well. You now know the reason he left (sorry if you think it's a little pitiful). As I was writing this, I just thought of a major plot twist. Its great. I'm undecided as to whether I will actually use it or not. But be warned! (