NOTE!!!:              I'm REALLY sorry.  I meant to have this up yesterday, going so far as to posting it before it was beta-ed, but for some reason FF.net wouldn't let me upload anything.  SORRY!!!

Disclaimer:          I don't own, nor do I want to own, Harry Potter.  J.K. Rowling owns them.  I've no intention of making any profit off of this, it's mere used to satisfy my desire to write and possibly to amuse you, the reader, though you can pay me if you want.  Lyrics to The General belong to Dispatch.  I love that song!

Warning:                This will be R and will contain *SLASH*  You don't like it, don't read.

Summary:             Harry returned to Hogwarts after six years of self-exile into the Muggle World and the defeat of Voldemort.

AN:                         Answer to the third question this time was a definite go ahead for a few OCs as long as they weren't Mary Sue/Gary Stu.  Have no fear about that. 

Sara Wolfe-           Sorry for the distinct lack of appearances from Snape, but there will be more next chapter.

Viscountess-         Thanks for the praise, but you'd better watch out, it might go to my head.

Kaze-                 I remember him sell.

Someone-              No, he doesn't live in a wizarding village.

Lord R-                   I do write original, but I don't post it.  I've been called a review whore and it's true.  I want reviews to keep me writing.  You don't get as many writing original as in fanfiction… *sighs*

Rachel-                   I'm not going to say anything about what's going to happen but I understand what you're saying.

                                Of course, I'm sorry about the cliffhangers, but that's normally the point where I get lazy and decided the chapters long enough.  I think there's one at the end of this as well… kinda.

Thanks as usual to Diagonalist for being such a wonderful beta and putting up with me.  You should thank her too.  She's the one who stopped me from scrapping this chapter.

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Chapter IX

Flashback (for lack of a better title)

There was a decorated General with a heart of gold
That likened him to all the stories he told,
Of past battles won and lost
And legends of old
A seasoned veteran in his own time

On the battlefield he gained respectful fame
With many medals of bravery and stripes to his name
He grew a beard as soon as he could to cover the scars on his face
And always urged his men on

But on the eve of great battle with the infantry in dream
The Old General tossed in his sleep and wrestled with its meaning
He awoke from the night to tell what he had seen
And walked slowly out of his tent

All the men held tall with their chests in the air
With courage in their blood and a fire in their stare
It was a gray morning and they were all wondering how they would fare
Till the old general told them to go home

He said: I have seen the others
And I have discovered
That this fight is not worth fighting
And I have seen their mothers
And I will no other, to follow me where I'm going
So

Take a shower, shine your shoes
You got no time to lose
You are young men, you must be living so
Take a shower, shine your shoes
You got no time to lose
You are young men, you must be living
Go now you are forgiven

But the men stood fast with their guns on their shoulders
Not knowing what to do with the contradicting orders
The General said he would do his own duty but he would extend it no further
The men can go as they please

Not a man moved their eyes gazed straight ahead,
Till one by one they stepped back and not a word was said
And the old general was left with his own words echoing in his head
He then prepared to fight

He said: I have seen the others
And I have discovered
That this fight is not worth fighting
No, and I see their mothers
and I will no other
to follow me where I'm going
So
Take a shower shine your shoes
You got no time to lose
You are young men you must be living

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                I left the courthouse at the age of eighteen, no longer the person I'd been when I'd entered, at least in name.  I'd been a very different person for the past month.  After the things I'd seen and done, there was no way I could remain the same person.

                No longer was I Harry Potter, however.  That was the first step to forgetting everything I never wanted to remember.  Now I was officially, and legally,  Ethan James.  I thought it was a nice tribute to my parents.  The last name was obvious to anyone who paid attention, using my father's name.  The first name was a little subtler.  By all means, I could have used Evan, but that was a little too obvious.  Ethan was close enough to Evans in my opinion.  So I used my mother's maiden name for my first.

                As I stepped out into the cold sunlight that afternoon, I unfortunately had a rather large epiphany.  I had absolutely no employable skills. 

All records would state I had dropped out of school at the age of eleven; or rather I'd disappeared.  I had no credible education to speak of.  Nor did I have any references in order to get even a dead end job.  Somehow, even if I had wanted to use it, I don't think ''The-Boy-Who-Lived' would be taken very seriously.  Putting 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' on paper would land me in a Muggle Mental Institute, undoubtedly.

While I did have Muggle currency, I strongly doubted it was going to last me nearly long enough, and I didn't want to return to Diagon Alley.

I walked, unseeing, down the street until I eventually I managed to register an old cathedral seemingly deserted at the present hour.

Looking like a good enough place to spend some time thinking over my dilemma, I slipped inside.

To say the architecture and décor was breathtaking would definitely have been an understatement.  It was obviously extremely old, probably dating back to the late eighteenth century.  The ceiling was domed, and the paintings on it captured the light perfectly, letting one really see the image.

The marble columns, and the masonry that went into the walls had an amazing affect of its own as well that I couldn't put into words.

The newer additions to the church, such as the well maintained pipe organ and the stained glass windows depicting the different stages of Christ's life only seemed to add to the overall effects.

It was for this brief moment that I wished the Dursley's had taken me with them to church in my childhood.  I certainly wouldn't have been bored in a place like this.  There was something about it that simply seemed… surreal.

It almost reminded me of the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.  It was amazing that simple human effort and skill could produce something to rival the greatest supernatural feats elsewhere.

I at first thought the church was empty, but I then noticed a young woman with two, small children sitting in one of the front pews. 

I watched them in fascination.  They were dressed in ragged clothing, and the two children were extremely well behaved.  It wasn't a life altering experience.  I wasn't suddenly going to admit how much better off I was and make the most of my life.  Nor was I going to donate what money I had to charity and devote my life to helping others.  I just felt sorry for them.

I was going to get up and leave when I felt a hand come down on my shoulder.

I spun around, half jumping, a reaction partly from reflex and partly from habit.

"Calm down, young man," a stranger said gently, but firmly.  His stared at me, taking in my own ragged appearance with piercing eyes.  He was obviously a minister at this church.

"I'm sorry sir," I began, "I was just about to leave."

"Nonsense, young man," he said good-naturedly.  "You obviously came here for a reason."

I looked out onto the street through the window.  There would be an obvious, and partially true answer.  "I came in to get out of the cold," I said softly.  "I don't really have anywhere else to go."

He looked closely at the bandaged eye from where he stood.  "Problems in your… family?"

I was a little startled.  He thought I was part of a gang?  The idea was almost laughable.

"No," I said shaking my head.  "That was my own fault."

He nodded, and though it was true, I knew he wouldn't believe me.

"I decided I wanted my life to take a different direction," I explained.  "I just never took into account the difficulties of finding a job."

I have no idea why I was telling this man my personal problems, but if forced to guess, I would have to say I missed having someone to confide in.  Those last months of the war were difficult.

The minister was about to respond when a young man entered the church, practically panting.

"You'll never guess what happened…!" the man exclaimed, but stopped suddenly when he saw me.  "Oh," he said stupidly.  "Sorry."

"That's okay," I replied, taking the opportunity to leave quietly.  "I was just about to go."

"Nonsense," the minister said again before turning to the young man.  "Kestor, you may wait quietly in my rooms while I talk to this young man."

The man, Kestor, nodded once, and walked further into the church.

The minister turned back to me.  "Now, I'm certain your situation isn't as dire as you imagine."

I had to refrain from laughing there.  It might not be dire, but again, I had no credible education.  The only job I might get would be flipping burgers or bussing tables.  That certainly wasn't going to pay the rent.

I told the minister as much, to which he didn't have an immediate reply.

"I see your dilemma," he answered, "and you have my permission to stay here for the night.  I will show you to the back after I speak with my nephew."

So… Kestor is his nephew, I thought stupidly.

The minister went to the small room where Kestor was waiting, and I went back to studying the elaborate stain glass windows.  They really were beautiful.  I could see at the bottom of each sill a brief dedication to so and so who donated money, or in memory of a beloved someone.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  As it was, I spun around yet again.  I didn't do well with people sneaking up on me.

It was the ministers nephew, Kestor.  I got a much better look at him this time.  His looks weren't anything extraordinary, but he did have very nice eyes.  They were a golden brown approaching gold as they neared the pupil.

His hair was dark brown in a buzz cut, and while well built he was a few inches shorter than myself.

He extended his hand to me.  "Hi," he said cheerfully.  "I'm Kestor Smith.  My uncle told me I should come talk to you."

I looked at him for a moment and then figured I should give him my name, since we might be going somewhere with this.  It was also the first time I'd ever given my new name to anyone, and I had to make a conscious effort not to say Harry. 

"I'm Ethan," I managed to say without faltering, accepting his hand.  "What did you need to talk to me about?"

The shorter man shrugged his shoulders.  "He told me a little of your problem, and how it could help me solve mine.  You see, I want this apartment, but I can't rent it unless I have a roommate with a steady job…"

I cut him off.  "I don't think your uncle told you, but I have no way of getting a job."

"Not a problem," the man said with a wave of his hand.  "I know a lot of people who would be willing to hire.  Now…"

I cut him off again.  "Then why don't you have a steady job?"

"Because I don't want one.  I'm a musician.  I make my money playing gigs." He sneered a little.  "According to the landlord, though it isn't an employment at all.  Needless to say musicians are some of the highest paid people in the world.  But as I was saying, I could get you a job, and you could pay half of the rent and…"

"I don't even know you!" I exclaimed.  This felt too much like having  my life manipulated.  Here this complete stranger was trying to get me to live with him.  I saw the minister at the alter, and I glared at him.  I felt my magic roiling and had to suppress it.  Ever since the final battle, it had been hard to control.

The nerve of that man!  He just smiled at me and said, "We can fix that anytime."

There was an odd look in his eyes, almost as though he were… hitting on me…

That was impossible.  I had a bandaged eye, I hadn't cut my hair in months and I generally look scruffy.  The fact that I got the impression he was gay didn't bother me, but that he was possibly hitting on me made me think he was a sleaze that would sleep with anyone.

And inside a church!

It got to be too much and I stormed out of the church back into the cold, march air, the large oak panel door slamming behind me.

I was stalking down the street, well aware that Kestor had left the church as well and was now jogging up behind me, to catch up.

"Wait!" he exclaimed.  "I'm sorry!"

I wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for.  I don't think he knew either.

He cut in front of me and put both hands on my shoulders, half to stop me, and half to catch his breath.  Either he was really out of shape or he was a smoker.

"Look," I said staring into his eyes piercingly.  "I'm not going to agree to move in with a complete stranger.  For all you know I could be a murderer, so bugger off!"

I think he was a little shocked that I'd said 'I' there instead of 'you' because he looked at me as though that might be a possibility

But then he smiled infuriatingly.  "Will you at least agree to have coffee with me?"

I looked at him like he was from outer space.

"I promise I won't bite."

Okay, he's good at dealing with reclusive people, I realize.  Maybe I should at least have coffee with him.  As long as I'm on guard, what's the worst that could happen?

"Fine," I agree.  "I'll have coffee with you, but I'm not promising anything."

Still smiling, Kestor answered.  "No problem.  I'm just hoping to remedy that not-knowing-each-other thing. Follow me."

He turned around with a wink and then started walking away.  I glared at his backside and started to follow him.  That man was infuriating.

…and so started a rather… interesting friendship.

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I opened my eye slowly, feeling nauseous.  I had no idea where I was, but I knew it was going to hurt when the light hit my eye.

I had to blink several times before I managed to become accustomed to the light.  It was obvious I hadn't had it open for a while.

To my right I heard hushed voices, and I tried to turn my head, but I found my neck was being restrained by something.

My vision was blurry, but suddenly I saw a familiar face.  "Hey Ethan," Kestor said quietly.  "You gave us quite a scare.  Do you remember what happened?"

I tried to nod, but I couldn't, so instead I rasped out a weak yes.  Stupid Muggle drivers, I thought angrily.

Kestor smiled, obviously happy I wasn't suffering from amnesia.  The news he gave me wasn't happy, however.  "The doctor said you had a concussion, whiplash and a broken calf.  You'll be able to leave in a few days, but you'll need crutches."

I swallowed a few times so that I would be able to speak.  The first words out of my mouth were, "Bugger!"

"I would have called your work for you, but you never gave any of us your number," Kestor explained hastily, assuming that was what I was worried about.

"Bugger!" I said more forcefully.  I hadn't even thought about that.  While I was sure Albus would know what had happened, it didn't go a long way to gain the trust of my co-workers.  Trying to change the subject, I asked, "Who's the person in the corner?"

I'd noticed them there, but out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't make out who.

"That's my girlfriend, Julie," he replied.

Girlfriend… Really…?  Will wonders never cease.

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                AN:                Sorry again for ending the chapter badly.  Love the food people sent me.  Love the reviews.  They keep me writing.  Will honestly try to get the next chapter up before Sunday this time.

See the box in the corner that says go.  You want to press that to feed me.  Yes you do.  You really do. 

*Tries to hypnotize readers into reviewing even if only to bitch at the author for a crappy chapter.*

REVIEW!!!  REVIEW!!! REVIEW!!!