Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that you recognise (but I can always dream)
The New Life
Harry Potter sighed. It was night time and rain was beating fiercely against the closed windows of his London house. It was miserable weather and it matched his mood exactly but it was getting rather annoying. Lazily with his right hand he made a small swishing motion and the curtains around the window closed on their own and the consistent steady beat of the rain colliding with the window seemed to cease, as if he had just entered a sound proof box. He had not given up using magic, but at no point since he left had he used his wand. No, that would allow him to be found by the ministry, something that he wanted to avoid at all costs.
It had been just two years since he left the wizarding world, a place in which he had seen more horrors in several short years than any man should have to see in one lifetime. At the tender age of one year old, both of his parents had been murdered at the hands of Voldemort, the most evil wizard to have lived for centuries. But his parents were not the last to have fallen to the deranged mad man that has proclaimed himself a lord. After thirteen years of living as a mere spirit thanks to those damned horcruxes, Voldemort had been resurrected by his parents betrayer. After that, Harry's life had gone to hell. He had watched almost helplessly as those he loved had fallen to the man that he hated with a passion. Sirius, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and in the final battle that took place in the graveyard where Voldemorts second rise had started, his best friends Ron and Hermione whom were as dear to Harry as a brother and sister, and the love of his life, Ginny Weasley.
Yet sometimes, just sometimes he missed it. There were some good times in the wizarding world too and Harry knew this. But Harry felt that he would be disrespecting the memories and the sacrifices of those who had died if he was happy. He did not deserve to be happy. He had made a vow at the end of his sixth year that nobody else would die for him, that nobody else would have to shield him, give up their life for him. But they had. And Harry hated it.
Life seemed dull beyond comprehension and he had left some people that sorely missed behind. Mr and Mrs Weasley, who had been surrogate parents to him ever since his second year had survived, and so had the last marauder, a werewolf by the name of Remus Lupin. Harry desperately missed them, but going back would mean that he would have to face the wizarding world, the reporters, the general public, and the relatives of those he had failed to save.
Harry knew that this was cowardly and that he shouldn't have spent the past two years friendless but he could not bring himself to put others in danger. He had a job helping rebellious teenagers to come to terms with their problems and this was just perfect for Harry. None of them wanted to gain attachments to him and he rarely saw other people from the agency that he worked with. Although he was acquainted with the entire company which consisted of five people including himself, he had never said more that a few words to them at any one time.
Sighing once more, Harry got up from the comfortable armchair that he had been seated in for the past few hours whilst he mused. 'Was it worth it?' was the thought that echoed in his head. He knew that if no one from his past found him, Harry would never go back. He had closed himself off from all the pain. His mind was constantly surrounded by occlumency barriers and he rarely showed facial expressions. Only when he was sure he was alone did he allow himself to become absorbed in his past and replay some of his memories.
His existence felt meaningless. No friends, no family and the only people who had ever cared were either dead, worse then dead or he had left then behind when he fled from his old life. He had sunk deep into depression but never allowed those on the outside to view his true feelings. He knew that at this rate he may end up committing suicide which he had thought about many times. He had even gone so far to slit his wrists but had healed them on the brink of death as he knew that it would be a betrayal to his friends' sacrifices. But it would release him from all the pain that was stored in his heart. He would be free from all the responsibility that he felt that he felt, despite his absence, he still carried on his shoulders and he would and he would be with his friend and family once again.
The twenty year old Harry Potter stopped his reminiscing, deciding that it would be best for his sanity if he went to sleep to escape the world of consciousness as thanks to his occlumency walls, he no longer suffered with nightmares as he blocked them even from his own mind. It was just falling asleep that was the problem.
Tiredly, Harry climbed the stairs that led to his room. He mentally checked the wards surrounding his house to make sure that they were still solid and nobody who meant him harm could breach them. He lay down in bed, ready for the usual hours wait before he was able to shut off the workings of his mind and sleep.
Just as the arms of sleep began to encircle him, dragging him further and further into the depths of sub-consciousness, he felt somebody enter the wards that started just outside the front door of his property. Knowing that few people ever came to the door, especially at eleven o'clock at night, he got up, put on a house coat and made his way to the front door. Just as he got there, a resounding ding echoed through the house. He opened the door and there staring at him was a very familiar face.