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Once again Harry Potter was sitting on the only swing Dudley's gang had not broken. It was weird how they always left this swing alone and yet every other thing in the park had been vandalised by them at one time or another. He had only been back in Privet Drive a week and already the Dursleys were getting on his nerves. Yet aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had been very kind, at least for them. Uncle Vernon had not shouted at him once so far although Harry could some times see his face going purple, moustache twitching and ruffling, loud sighs escaping from him in huge gusts as he looked over at Harry and opened his mouth to shout only to find aunt Petunia's beady eye on him which made him let out another huge sigh but retreat behind a newspaper or magazine on different types of drills and articles on golf. Aunt Petunia had been almost nice and quite solicitous, offering him second helpings of puddings along with Dudley. But unlike the summer after his third year when he would have been glad for any sort of food, Harry could hardly finish his first helping let alone accept a second. Yes, aunt Petunia had changed a lot. However, the person most changed was Dudley. It seemed the dementor attack the previous year had left him insecure and given him nightmares for months afterwards. Even now he some times still had the nightmare of something unseen bending over him, blocking out the light, the coldness unbearable. On the first night when Harry had returned he had awoken at about three o'clock in the morning to hear ear-splitting screams, which for once were not coming from him. Hastily Harry had scrambled out of bed, taken his wand from under his pillow where he had lately come to put it just in case and attempted to grab for his glasses on the bedside table, knocking over a lamp in the attempt. He had jammed on his glasses, thinking Voldermort must be in the house, momentarily forgetting that the dark lord couldn't get into Privet drive. He had hastily opened the door and peered out to see aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon rushing to Dudley's room, as they opened the door to enter, the screams got louder.

"Don't cry Diddy darling, mummy's here now, Diddy, wake up, it's only another nightmare, wake up!" Harry edged closer to Dudley's door and peered in. Aunt Petunia was sitting on the bed, Dudley half on her lap, half on Uncle Vernon's lap (one buttock on each).

"I-I saw them again." Sobbed Dudley.

"I felt the cold, the air smelt so bad, like-like the sewage plant we drove past yesterday. Only much worse. And-and I remembered when they were all laughing at me in the playground because I could never catch the ball, the teacher shouting at me for coming at the bottom of all my classes. And I saw Jane laughing at me when I asked her out saying she wouldn't go out with me if it was a choice between me and a t-toad. And I saw you and daddy dead and me made to live in a cup-cupboard, l-like Harry used to."

"Don't worry darling, that will never happen, we will always be here, forget it, it was only a nightmare."

"But-but they-dementors exist, they aren't just imaginary mo-monsters!"

"The boy coming here must have brought up the memories, Dudders," said uncle Vernon, shooting an angry glance at his nephew standing at the doorway.

"If it wasn't for your mother's wishes I would have thrown him out before you could say . . ."

"Vernon, the only place he is safe is here and-and that school of his, he is family after all, much as we would it were otherwise. I don't want his death on my conscience."

Harry had left them after that and gone back to his room fuming, the last place he wanted to be was privet drive. To his slight shame he was glad the dementors had left a mark on Dudley. Fancy him being bullied, who would have thought it?

"You have been here for a very long time, I have been watching you gaze at that tree for the last half an hour." Said a voice near his left shoulder, making Harry jump slightly. Harry looked around uncaring. He knew the guards from the order would intervene if it were anyone dangerous. Pity they couldn't have intervened when it would have been of some help, when Sirius had . . . don't think about that. Don't think about that. He told himself again.

"Hi," he said morosely.

"And I thought I had problems," said the man, the corners of his mouth lifting up in a sardonic smile.

"What do you want?" said Harry rather rudely, but after all he had come to the park to get away from people.

"Just wanted to talk," said the man, he was tall and slim with dark hair and blue eyes that to Harry seemed like pools of pain, bared for the world to see.

"Okay," said Harry rather reluctantly getting off the swing. The pain in the man's eyes had touched a part of Harry buried deep in him, the part which contained Lily and James, the parents he hardly remembered but whom he longed to know, the part which had grown so considerably after Sirius' death only two weeks earlier.

"Let's sit over there," said the man pointing to a couple of very battered looking picnic benches between an equally shabby table under a tall tree whose leafy branches were hanging above the plastic table like a live green umbrella. When they had sat down, or rather Harry had sat on the edge of the broken bench whilst the man perched opposite him, the picnic table between them, the man opened a carrier bag, took out two ice creams and offered one to Harry.

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"It's not poisoned you know, look it's still wrapped," said the man waving the ice cream at him.

"Ah, thanks, it's just that after last year I am a bit wary of people offering me anything to eat." Said Harry at last taking the ice cream.

"What happened?"

"Let's just say, a lot of people including myself would have been in deep trouble if I had drank that cup of tea," said Harry remembering Umbridge's hungry look as she had questioned him on the whereabouts of Dumbledore and Sirius, waiting for him to spill the beans with unnatural fervour. Well, Snape had given Umbridge false veritaserum but Harry hadn't known that. At least I can look after myself. I don't need people protecting me all the time. Apart from the time it really mattered. Don't think about that. Don't think about that, he said to himself again, resolutely burying the guilty thought but knowing that it would be back again.

"Well, you wanted to talk, so talk," said Harry a minute or so later as they sat in companionable silence, munching their way threw the enormous ice creams.

"Now that I have some one to talk to I am not sure where to start. Have you watched a television program called the 'Truman Show?'"

"Well, I go to boarding school and we're not allowed to . . . I mean it is not possible to watch TV there." Said Harry, wondering how much to tell this man about his life and then wondering why he was bothering anyway.

"Well, it was a live television show that has been going on for about the last thirty years and . . . I was the main star. But I didn't know I was being filmed! My entire world was just a film set. Every minute of my day and night was being screened out to thousands, perhaps millions of people around the world. Even my most private moments were laid out bare for the world to see, the day when I was eight and cheated on a test, when I ate, when I slept, when I went to the bathroom or had a shower. Everything going on in my life was being watched, watched by the world, even . . . when I made love to my wife! I say wife, in fact she was nothing of the sort, she was only a hired actress, looking to get famous at my expense. Even my marriage was not real, they were trying to have a baby conceived live on screen. I felt violated, raped and I could not imagine how my mother could have sold me to the cooperation. I would rather she had killed me before I was born than subject me to-to all that." Truman stopped talking and was looking at a spot over Harry's right shoulder, Harry could see the telltale signs of tears which Truman was unsuccessfully trying to blink away. Harry could also feel the prickle of tears behind his own glasses. He had thought his life sucked and here was a man who had gone through things ten times worse.

"I-I'm sorry," said Harry rather lamely but he couldn't think what else to say.

"I don't know why I just told you all this, I think I could see that you have gone through a lot as well, you have very expressive eyes you know. For six months I have been going from country to country, city to city, trying to run away from my self and the horrible thing that was my life, my world. And you know so far the attempt has been an utter failure! At first I just ran, I just wanted to get away, I didn't much care where I went just as long as I wasn't there. Of course people recognised me and waved and called and rang the show to tell them where I was. I got fed up and stole some clothes from a washing line, a wig and pair of sunglasses from a shop, until I realised that some hair die would do a much better job. I didn't have to work for I had taken out all the money I had before I had tried to escape." Truman stopped again.

After Truman's outburst Harry desperately wanted to tell him some thing of his own life, he had not wanted to talk with any one, not even Hermione or Ron but the urge now to do so was strong. After all that Truman had gone through he would surely understand Harry's feelings of betrayal and anger at all those around him and most particularly at himself. It couldn't be a plot from the daily prophet or Voldermort could it? But no, reporters from the prophet lacked the imagination and Voldermort would want much more than a little chat with Harry potter, the bane of his existence, the boy who had single handedly halted his aim of total domination and control of the wizarding world for almost thirteen years. I am also the boy who let him back again, stronger than before, Harry thought angrily.

"Have you tried to find her, your mother I mean?" Harry asked. Truman laughed harshly

"No, I am not interested in the old story of a mother who gave up a child because she thought it was the best thing for him, the child growing up and finding her, and the tragic story ending with every one living happily ever after, lots of tissues and tears as the long lost family finally meet after long years of separation and it all ends with hugs, kisses and heart felt embraces. No, she did not send me to a better life, she sold me for money, there is no other way to put it. Yes, you could say I had a good life, my every wish was fulfilled, apart from leaving to explore the world for obvious reasons. A prison is still a prison, however comfortable." Harry knew the last statement to be true from personal experience. Although the last summer he had not been locked in his room or starved of food but had in fact been able to go to the shops and park, it had almost felt like a prison. He remembered how he had felt after just a month of that life and smiled to remember how angry he had been at Ron and Hermione and how startled both had been at his outburst on seeing them. If he was so angry after just a month how much more would Truman be, had the right to be after having thirty years of such treatment, after finding out his whole world was a lie, that every one he had known from his wife to his best friend were actors paid to be with him or talk with him. As if reading Harry's last thought Truman burst out

"When I found out they had all lied to me I got so angry, I felt I could have killed some one. I shouted at the actress posing as my wife. She got really scared and shouted that she needed help, I asked who she was calling, we were in our house at the time you see, the doors shut. Almost immediately there was loud banging on the door and my best friend came in. Even he was a fraud! We all know of rats and monkeys being manipulated in the lab to find out how they will react to different stimuli, however, I was the real thin, a human rat in the lab of the film set."

"I am so sorry Truman," said Harry sincerely.

"Last year I felt I too was a puppet being pulled this way and that by the head master at my school, professor Dumbledore. You see, I am . . . a wizard." Said Harry wondering how Truman would take this.

"I am not supposed to tell you, wizards' secrecy act and all that but as you have been so honest I feel that I, where are you going?"

"I should have known, I should have known that you would be like the rest!" Said Truman angrily rising to his feet, indignation visible in every muscle, his eyes were as cold and hard as icicles.

"Thought you'd have a great laugh at my expense did you? Well I should have realised, but I so much wanted to talk to some one, someone who I thought would understand, your just like the rest of the world."

"But I am not lying, it is true, I am a wizard, there is a whole hidden society of us comprising hundreds and thousands of people living amongst the 'normal' people." as Truman carried on walking away, his shoulders set firmly, his head up, his expression a solid mask of anger Harry desperately searched for a way to prove his claim. He could show him but did not dare to go up against the ministry again, not just after Fudge had been convinced to join them in their fight against Voldermort. There must be another way, there has to be another way.

"Hay, wait, come back, I'll prove what I have just said is the truth." Truman carried on walking, he was nearly out of the park now.

"Please," shouted Harry in desperation. Reluctantly, Truman turned and walked slowly back to the bench.

"Look!" said Harry with a grin as he pulled out his parents' wedding photo from his pocket.

"So." Said Truman looking down at the black and white picture in the boy's hands "Wow! He moved!" he yelled jumping back in surprised.

"Yeah, that's how you can tell it's a wizard photo, and here, have a wizard sweet," said Harry handing over a chocolate frog. As Truman unwrapped the sweet, with a slightly stunned expression on his face a card fell out, onto the grass.

"It's a Dumbledore, he was on my first ever chocolate frog card too. You can eat the frog, it won't bite." Said Harry as he pulled out another chocolate frog from his pocket and took a bite.

"So, it is true, you, you are a wizard." Said Truman flopping down on the bench, still gazing at the furiously waving people in the photo, a dazed expression on his face.

"Not just any wizard, I am very famous in the magical world, I am the boy who lived you know," said Harry in a rather sarcastic tone.

"I defeated lord Voldermort, one of the most evil wizards to ever exist when I was barely fifteen months old."

"Really, how?"

"That is the million dollar question, no one knows how, some say my mother dying to save me was the reason but others argue that many parents sacrificed their lives to try and save those of their children. I don't really know." What was the reason though, thought Harry to himself. Why did he survive? Was it the prophecy? He had to survive so Voldermort could mark him and so that they would be able to have the fight, which would finally decide who would be the murderer and who, the victim. But I don't want to kill any one thought Harry desperately, Voldermort had killed hundreds though, perhaps thousands and had ordered his death eaters to torture and kill many more, is killing him the same as killing an ordinary, law abiding person? Wouldn't killing lord Voldermort or at least removing him as a threat of the world be the moral duty of every citizen? I am not a philosopher or an ethicist thought Harry running a hand through his messy, windswept hair in agitation as he once again grappled with the questions that had plagued him ever since he had heard the prophecy.

"Are you okay?" Asked Truman with concern.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, just thinking. Anyway to cut a long story short. For the next ten years of my life I lived with my aunt and uncle who did every thing they could think of to squish the magic out of me from making me sleep in a cupboard to giving harsh punishments for anything weird that occurred around me. On my eleventh birthday a giant called Hagrid came during a storm half way out to sea to tell me that I was a wizard and that I had a place at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I was shocked, I can tell you. So I went and it was exciting and terrifying. I had some wonderful times, especially quidditch, that's a sport played on broomsticks, rather like basketball. I had two great friends. I had some terrifying adventures though," said Harry with a reminiscing smile.

"At the end of my first year I found out that one of the professors had been possessed by lord Voldermort and that the dark lord had been at the school all that year. My friends and I stopped him from taking something that would have meant he was virtually immortal and almost indestructible. In our second year I found out that I could talk to snakes, a side affect of the curse that rebounded and which destroyed Voldermort. Again we stopped a form of the dark lord from regaining power. In our third year again some one was trying to kill me, though it eventually turned out that actually he was trying to protect me. In my fourth year a lot of strange things were happening, from unexplained disappearances to me being entered into a dangerous competition though I was underage. At the end of the year I discovered that it was all a set-up to bring the dark lord back. My blood was used to bring him back from a bodiless existence."

"You have had a very eventful few years, haven't you?" Said Truman looking stunned with all this information that was pouring out of the rather slight figure, seemingly almost against his will, like a Reservoir which had burst its dam.

"Well go on then, what happened this year, I'm sure some thing must have, you sound like a person to whom stories happen." Harry gave a wry smile.

"You could say that! Well, this, last year was the worst of them all. At least before I had managed to come out of all my 'adventures' relatively unharmed, apart from the fact of Cedric who also took part in the competition getting killed by Voldermort. This year, my godfather, the man who risked everything to help me, got killed. And what really gets to me," exclaimed Harry, his hands clenched into tight fists

"Is that it was needless! Completely unnecessary! Just an unfortunate accident. And-and it was all my fault, my need to play the hero led directly to his death. I thought I was saving him from a painful death and instead I lead him into a trap, I led all of them to a trap and it was a miracle that more of my friends were not killed but only received relatively minor injuries that healed up quite quickly. And I know I should be grateful for this but all I can think of is that it was my fault, all my fault that Sirius is dead at all. I can't look at myself in the mirror without cringing with shame. I feel that I am bloodstained even though I did not actually fire the fatal spell." For a moment Truman looked totally nonplussed, he had talked to this sad stranger on an impulse to try and lay aside some of his own ghosts, instead he was getting lumbered with numerous others that he did not want or need. What could he do, what could he say to help this boy, for from experience he knew that this boy certainly needed someone's help. I am not the one to give that help though, sheesh, I can hardly help myself, and yet he has opened up to me, I get the feeling that, that does not happen often.

"Um, have you talked to any one about these thoughts?"

Harry grinned humourlessly

"I'm talking to you aren't I?"

"I mean some one professional, who has had experience of this kind of stuff."

"I've never thought of that and anyway I don't want some one poking in my mind with legilimens, had enough of Voldermort and Snape doing that to last a life time." At Truman's blank expression Harry went on to explain about legilimens and Snape's halfhearted attempt to teach him occlumency.

"Can you imagine if a heeler who supports Voldermort got hold of me, knowing my luck it would happen, that's why no one's probably suggested it yet, we don't know who is on our side, who can be trusted and who must be avoided."

"Well, why don't you go to a normal councillor?"

"It would be difficult because I'm only here for another month before school starts again. I don't want to ask Dumbledore to make arrangements in terms of getting a defence squad to see a muggle therapist, I don't want every one to think I am losing my nerve and going mental. I can just imagine what the daily prophet, that's a wizarding news paper would make of that."

After that Harry and Truman met nearly everyday for several hours, they generally went to the park or the swimming pool. Truman even dragged Harry to do some clothes shopping as he said Dudley's overlarge, handed down clothes would make any one depressed. Harry thought the order would not allow this but they seemed to be leaving Harry to it and were very discrete, staying out of sight. Harry was anxious about people overhearing his conversations with Truman. Several days after his first talk with Truman, he was delighted to receive a charmed chain from Dumbledore enclosed in his usual letter from the order, which when worn would muffle any talk from everyone but the intended listener.