Altered Paces
Summary: The Final Battle ended three years ago, and everything changed. Voldemort is gone forever, but Harry paid a price he wasn't sure he was ready to pay. For three years, he was out of the country trying to put his life back together, but now he's ready to return. What he didn't put into consideration was the fact that his past wasn't ready for him.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, of course. Must I even say it?
Chapter 1The wind whipped the hem of the midnight blue robes around the wizards feet, but he paid no mind. The clouds above were so thick that the moon was completely obscured, as were the many stars that usually lit the night in the small town of Godric's Hollow. It was almost as dark as the last time his footsteps graced the ground he was now standing so rigidly on.
Not a soul had dared try to renovate the quaint village after that fateful night of August 11th, 1998. Only a few even entered to locate the nameless bodies of the victims of war. Ron Weasley was one of those bodies, but nameless he was not. Many made sure of that.
In war, everyone's a hero. Every single witch or wizard who died died in the glory of utter defeat, but one always goes above and beyond. One alone is considered worthy of keeping his or her name after death, and this was the case in this certain battle. The name of the person who would go down in history books for ages was Ronald Bilius Weasley, and he deserved every letter.
The thought of the man who stood by his side from day one struck Harry with the same force he had become so accustomed to. He only felt a dull ache now, because a person's heart can only tear so many times before it hardens.
Harry turned quickly on his heel, looking away from where it all started and where it all ended. His parents home was left untouched after the first downfall of Voldemort so many years prior, but it was completely changed now. The debris had been blown away, and the remains were blasted to oblivion in the Final Battle. Nothing was left but a patch of dead grass, gray in color even in the light of Harry's illuminated wand. This was where he was to start his life. It all happened here, and no matter how much it hurt him to be in such a place, he knew he could never spend his life anywhere else. Leaving any relic of his past intact wasn't a salutation. It was simply a reminder, and all reminders were slowly being disposed of. To move on, you must move away, otherwise you'll only be stretching to reach a higher place, but your feet will keep you attached to the past and will always pull you back down.
None were aware of Harry Potter's sudden return to civilization. In fact, no one knew what had happened to him after Ron's funeral back in August of the same year. He didn't speak a word, but he was the first to arrive and the last to leave the grave site of the closest friend he ever had. Many had tried to talk to him, but he graciously denied conversation, though that was probably the biggest mistake of his life.
The clouds had parted in the early hours of the morning to reveal a glimmering sun residing over the dewy grasses of Godric's Hollow. It was this factor that awoke the sleeping Potter from his troubled slumber. His cloak was draped over him as if it would actually keep him warm, but he was soaked through and through. A quick drying charm solved this problem, but no number of spells could solve his next troubles.
He knew what he had to do, and he knew he was going to follow through on it. He wouldn't raise a family anywhere but Godric's Hollow, the place he should have known as a child. But to raise a family, you must have a house, and there was a major lack in this category when it came to Harry.
Building a home is much easier wizarding-style, and he knew he could complete it in one hard days work, so he instantly got started. He had all the materials he needed around him. The houses, protected from rot by the magical spells their previous occupants cast on them, were ready to be torn down, bit by bit to build the mansion that Harry held in his head.
I would tell you of the long, difficult work building this house was, and I could go into detail of every thought that travelled through the man's head, but I fear I would bore you. All you need to know is that by the time the Spring sun set behind the distant horizon, a house worthy of the richest man alive stood before Harry Potter. Yet it was completely empty.
Harry didn't plan on filling this house quite yet. He still had a few things to check up on before he decided what belonged and what didn't. But he had a place to return to, should he need to, and the first stepping stone to Harry's great plan was in place. Now he just had to place a few more and the rest would be history. Of course, it wasn't as easy as he thought.