Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, nor do I have any share in the Harry Potter world she has created. This story though, is my property as I have written the dialouge and created the plot situations. Please do not copy or alter this story in any way without my express permission, which you can recieve by requesting it in a review and leaving an email address for me to respond to. This will apply to the entire story, so I am not stuck typing this over and over.

Chapter 1 – On His Way

The locket. The cup. The snake. Something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. The locket. The cup. The snake. Something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. It was the middle of the night and once again Harry Potter had found himself woken up by images of the four items that haunted his future.

He was not annoyed though. It was a rare occasion that he got any sleep at all, and he was thankful for every second he got.

The trauma he had endured just a week ago was still fresh in his mind. The frail body of the most powerful man for a century now lay encased in a white marble tomb. When he did manage to overcome the insomnia it caused, his dreams were either of that horrible night, his last with Dumbledore, or of the four remaining horcruxes he must eradicate and the future in store.

Happiness was not something he had experienced since before that terrible day. The only comforting thoughts he had were of something he knew he could not pursue. Something he knew he should not even ponder, not until he had finished his mission.

He looked around and realized he was at number four Privet Drive and lay there thoroughly depressed by it. He rose from bed, his mussed up black hair gleaming in the moonlight, and walked to the door of his room, wand in hand, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a copy of The Daily Prophet. The same one that he saw every morning. He had never opened it. He didn't need to. He received it the day after he got home and he immediately noticed the front page was covered by a large picture of himself with the caption "Harry Potter Admits to Being The Chosen One, page three." He hated Rufus Scrimgeour for it.

His summer had hardly started, but he knew not to expect too much cheerfulness from it. He had spent the last week wandering the streets of Little Whinging wondering what he could possibly do to get his job done. Where could the horcruxes be? He thought to himself many a time. I'll never find them. Why had Dumbledore been so stupid? Why had he trusted Snape? How could he have left me so stranded?

Harry had seen Dumbledore fight Lord Voldemort and he knew that he was not ready for a duel like that. He may be top in his class in defense but that meant nothing in the real world. He was definitely not prepared to face Voldemort. But every time he found himself at this conclusion he shook his head and reminded himself that this final showdown was not even in the near future. He still had to find the four remaining horcruxes. Four bits of Voldemort's soul left to destroy. He didn't know how he would do it. Dumbledore had nearly died on two occasions trying to destroy them, and the second time had weakened him so much that he did die at the hands of another wizard.

Whenever Harry thought about this hardship he was forced to remember the prophecy. He was forced to remember that he was the one who had the power to kill Voldemort forever. Even though the prophecy didn't necessarily say he would kill him, he knew he had to try. He knew somehow that it would come to one final showdown. The Dark Lord versus the Boy Who Lived, or as he was more commonly known now, The Chosen One. He didn't know how this had become a fact in his mind, but he welcomed it. It let him know he would survive his ordeals in finding the Horcruxes.

"Lumos," he muttered as he reached the door. Harry no longer feared expulsion from Hogwarts. The ministry had sent him an owl announcing his expulsion three days ago for his use of underage magic, but it was of no matter to him. He wasn't going back. As long as they refrained from sending the Magical Law Enforcement Squad to confiscate his wand it was fine by him, and he knew they would not dare.

He made his way down the hall to the bathroom not bothering to keep quiet. His free hand had instinctively gone to his pocket where it tightly clutched the fake horcrux that had cost him so much, when he heard a rustling and a roar of annoyance.

"BOY!" roared Uncle Vernon from his door jam. "HOW DARE YOU WAKE UP MY FAMILY WITH YOUR —"

Harry flicked his wand. "Silencio." Uncle Vernon was instantly silenced, though he did not stop his thrashing and attempts to scream in rage.

Harry entered the bathroom to do his business, leaving Uncle Vernon to his own devices. When he came out of the bathroom he performed the counter-curse on his now calmer uncle.

"Don't talk or I'll hex you again Uncle Vernon, and I won't be so nice this time," Harry said. "Now hear me out. I may not be of age, but I'm using magic anyway, they have already expelled me from Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter since I doubt it will remain open for this year anyway. The world is at war and I have to save it. But don't worry, I won't darken your doorstep much longer. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow for the Burrow and I'm not coming back. You never have to see me again."

Uncle Vernon looked flabbergasted to say the least. He was speechless, but was at least able to shuffle back into his room with a smug grin upon his face.

SP

Harry was unable to sleep any more that night. He had not expected to anyway. Instead he spent the rest of the night thinking about what was to come, while stroking Hedwig and giving her feeding mice he had bought at the local pet store. She had refused to hunt while Harry was so distraught and so Harry had no choice but to buy food for her.

Harry had barely begun to think of some of the terrors that may lie ahead when he noticed the sun beginning to rise. He was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and fall asleep, but he knew he couldn't. It hadn't worked all week and it wasn't going to work now. So instead he went downstairs to have a toaster pastry and head out the door. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he was cut off by Dudley his oversized cousin.

"Is it true? Are you really leaving tomorrow? Forever?" Dudley asked, a nasty smile on his face.

"Yes, Dudley. I'm leaving," Harry responded, his voice showing his exhaustion.

Harry pushed past his jovial cousin and continued into the kitchen where with a swish of his wand, made a pastry pop out of the freezer and into the toaster oven. He turned the toaster on with another small flick. The Dursleys had given up on stopping him using magic and took to the idea of leaving the room whenever he did, pretending that it wasn't happening. While he let his breakfast cook an owl started to tap on the kitchen window. Harry walked over, opened the window and took the copy of The Daily Prophet, putting a knut in the small owls pouch.

As he walked back to the table he heard the toaster buzz. He took out his wand and summoned his food. He was eating it when he got his first proper look at the cover of the Prophet.

He almost gagged on his pastry.

As smile ran across his face as he read those wonderful words. "Death Eater Set Back on the Streets. Read more about Stan Shunpike's release on page seven."

Harry let out a joyful whoop and experienced his first moment of happiness all week. He didn't bother to read the article, it was of no matter. What mattered was that the ministry was finally getting a clue. He thought over some of the reasons they would have suddenly changed their ways as he finished his breakfast and went back upstairs. He put a new pair of jeans, a shirt, and his trainers and made for the front door. He had almost left the room when he realized he left his wand in his pajama pants.

"Can't forget you," he said as he grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket.

As he left the house he made for the park in which he has spent so much time over the past few years. It was a long walk but it didn't matter to him, he had all the time in the world. Once he got there he sat down on his favorite swing and thought over what the ministry was getting at, changing their stance on so-called suspected Death Eaters. He was becoming more and more suspicious, and more and more desperate for solid contact with the wizarding world when it hit him.

"Mrs. Figg!" Harry exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of her before?"

He immediately dashed out of the park in the direction of Mrs. Figg's house. When he reached her house he rang the doorbell with great anticipation. The door opened and he welcomed the terrible smell of old mothballs that reminded him of Mrs. Figg and that old ratty suit Mr. Filch always wore. But something odd happened. The man in the doorway was definitely not Mrs. Figg.

"Can I help you?" said the man in the doorway.

"Maybe," Harry replied. "Is Mrs. Figg here?"

"No I'm sorry young man but she died last week."

He was dumbfounded. "No, no, no. That's impossible I just saw her..." but then it hit him, "wait... never mind, but... thanks for your help," said Harry as he walked off.

"Why didn't I think of that," he said to himself as he went back in the direction of number four Private Drive. She obviously left the muggle world to return to the magical world full time, he thought. Since Dumbledore is gone she doesn't have to be here to watch over me anymore. He felt the frustration build up inside him. He was again disappointed by his seclusion from the wizarding world.

"What now?" he whispered to himself as he was walking. He was suddenly stricken by his exhaustion. "I need sleep," he muttered, "I think its time to pull out one of my old potion books."

When he reached the house he clambered up the stairs and pulled out his cauldron. Just looking at made him think of all those times he mixed amazing potions in the dungeons while using that cursed copy of Advanced Potion Making. He couldn't believe Snape. Harry hated himself for ever trusting that book. Ginny had been right that time in the common room when she asked him why he was listening to what a strange book told him. He should have learned from her ordeal. He had almost died for goodness sakes, why hadn't he just been rational. Hermione warned him so many times and he never bothered to listen. Suddenly he found himself at odds with his emotions. Anger and hate filled him when he thought about what Snape had done, but he pushed that from his mind and lit a small fire beneath he cauldron and got his scales and ingredient box out.

He turned in his book to the index looking for sleeping potions. The only one he could find that would make his sleep dreamless and not cause a never-ending coma was called Ard Pramh Duem. He read through it and it was simple enough. All he needed was some red wine.

He went downstairs and grabbed a bottle from the pantry and poured some out into a plastic container for his potion. He slowly stumbled back upstairs and poured the contents into his cauldron. He then began to finely chop two hydele duems and added them as soon as the wine began to simmer. Following the instructions, he stirred two times clockwise and then let it simmer for five minutes before adding one crushed betony duem. He stirred it four times counterclockwise and three times clockwise and let it simmer for fifteen minutes. In the meantime he carefully prepared the hemlock duem, being very aware that even inhaling the fumes could cause a deadly effect. He put the hemlock in at the required time and stirred exactly how he was supposed to, this bit being more complicated than the rest. He was supposed to stir it counterclockwise until the steam from the mixture became heavy and didn't rise out of the cauldron. When it did he had to immediately remove the heat and stir in the other direction quickly enough to keep the mist from sinking back into the potion, but not so quickly that it started to dissipate. When he completed his required fifty-two stirs, he was to let the potion sit for five hours, allowing the hydele to counteract the poison in the hemlock.

He didn't know what to do for those five hours other than read through the owl post he had received over his week at the Dursley's. He pulled out the three letters and began to read. The first one was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are enjoying your time in Little Whinging. I know its probably not fun, but there is little you can do to prevent that. Dumbledore did ask you to return there for a short while so I believe its best that you do so. I miss you and I wish that I could somehow make you feel a little better about what you know is coming, but I also know I cannot. I won't be going to the Burrow this year, at least not until we receive word from the Headmistress about the condition at Hogwarts. I really wish I could visit you Harry but I must stay here and protect my parents, at least for the time being. Well, I will keep in touch via owl.

From,

Hermione

P.S. Me and Ron are now officially an item!

He smiled as he read the last line. He was truly happy for them, but was slightly irked by the fact that images of them snogging kept traveling through his mind. Even a picture of a future child from Ron and Hermione passed through his string of consciousness. He shivered unexplainably, but took it to be due to his exhaustion. He couldn't imagine a better match than his two best friends, except maybe one, but he had to push that from his mind. It couldn't happen yet. It was much to risky.

The next letter was from Ron. Though very short it was a typical Ron letter and it always made Harry laugh a little to read his best friends ramblings.

Dear Harry,

How are you doing mate? Life over here is good enough. Very tense, but pretty cheery none the less. Me and Hermione are now officially going out and she won't stop sending owls. Sometimes I get two or three a day! She gone bloody bonkers she has.

Speaking of bonkers, when are you leaving you ruddy Uncle's house and coming to the Burrow? All anyone can talk about over here is when you are going to arrive! Fleur is starting to go insane, she thinks we should all be talking about the stupid wedding, but even Bill isn't concerned with that. He just keeps asking for steaks and to know when Mr. Potter will be arriving. Hell, even Charlie is in town! If you don't come soon the house is going to explode, so get your stupid arse over here!

Ron

P.S. Do you think Hermione is going to take me seriously? I'm a bit worried about that.

He let out a tired laugh as he read his favorite line for the third time. He was very right, Hermione had gone bonkers, but not in the way Ron had meant, Harry thought Ron would very much enjoy Hermione's bonkers.

His last letter was his most treasured. He received it at the same time as Ron's. He didn't understand how the Weasleys could still use that sad owl Errol to send their mail. He had trouble enough standing up let alone flying a straight line. But he had delivered the letter none the less. He unfolded the precious paper and saw Ginny's beautiful handwriting blessing the page.

Dear Harry,

I miss you, you noble little prat. Why do you always have to be so brave... stupid wanker. I can't believe you plan on skiving off your seventh year of school to go save the stupid world, but most of all I can even begin to comprehend how to plan on letting Ron and Hermione come with you! You leave me for some brave bleeding reason saying you have to do this alone and then go tell Ron and Hermione they can help? Maybe I would understand allowing Hermione to help you figure some things out while she's at Hogwarts. Maybe help you find You-Know-Who's whereabouts or something like that, but Ron? What use is my brother? He can't even beat me in a duel. And worst of all you are letting them tag along! You hypocritical bastard.

It was here that the page began to be littered with tear stains.

It's not fair. I can't even see you for who knows how long and before I see you again you plan on facing Tom. The next time I see you, you might be like Dumbledore. You might be dead and I won't ever be able to forgive myself for... well... maybe I'll tell you about that another time. Why does life have to be this way, huh? It doesn't make any sense. Ron thinks your going to come here for most of the summer, but I don't know if he's just having wishful thoughts. I don't know if I even want you to come. I don't know if I want to see you. Can I handle it? I don't know, I just don't bloody well know.

I sent a little something in here. It's a necklace that I used to wear all the time, it doesn't quite fit anymore so I thought I might be a good little memento so you don't forget about me. I hope you don't forget...

Love,

Ginny

He wondered what Ginny would not be able to forgive herself for every time he read it, which had become fairly often over the past few days. Each time he also found himself gripping the fake horcrux along with the small ruby necklace Ginny had sent him. Together the two pieces of jewelry reminded him of what he had to do, and why he had to do it.

Harry had replied only to this letter. He had sent Ginny a guarantee that he would be coming to visit for the wedding at the very least, possibly for a long while as he gathered information about where he needed to be next, but Harry also promised that he wouldn't be there all summer since even if he didn't manage to find what he needed soon enough, he was going to leave after his birthday at the very latest to go to Godric's Hollow. As he had finished the letter and tried to think of something he could send her, he had had a revelation. He rummaged through his trunk for an hour looking for it. And there it was lying in shattered pieces, the mirror Sirius had given him. He had repaired it quickly with his wand and had sent Hedwig to go and get the other from Grimmauld Place. Hedwig had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to leave Harry for so long. She had returned late in the day with the other mirror and Harry attached his letter and package to her leg with a short note saying "Don't lose this, I'll explain when I see you next. Harry"

Hedwig had not wanted to leave again and agreed only when Harry directly ordered her. She didn't like to be chastised, but returned in record time the next morning before Harry had woken up. He guessed she must have left the letter on Ginny's desk.

Harry had not received any other letters from his friends and did not expect to because he was leaving the next day.

When he shook himself from his flashbacks and ponderings he noticed that it was almost eight o'clock. He had certainly fulfilled the five hour resting period for the potion, but his grumbling stomach stopped him from immediately taking it. He went downstairs and made himself a roast beef sandwich which he quickly ate. He headed back up to bed and took a look at the deep red-violet potion that was swirling in his cauldron of its own accord. He dipped a flask into it and took a long swig. He barely had time to get to his bed before the world around him went suddenly black.

SP

In what seemed like a split second it was breakfast time at the Dursley's. He woke up pleasantly refreshed and went downstairs to have his last meal with the Dursley family.

"So boy, your leaving forever are you? No visits? No letters?" asked Uncle Vernon, doing a very bad job of hiding his glee.

"Yes. I am," answered Harry. "But to get out of here I had to owl Mr. Weasley to have your fire added to the floo network for the day. The Weasleys don't know I'm coming yet, other than Mr. Weasley that is."

Harry braced himself for the impact of Uncle Vernon's screams for taking such liberties but was astounded by the response he got.

"Well I think it's a wonderful idea!" he said to his wife, Aunt Petunia, who was cooking breakfast. "No more oddities in this house anymore. No more weird occurrences, and best of all, no more bloody owls flying around the house. You know boy the Johnsons called yesterday asking about a large brown bird with an envelope on its foot. And you know, normally I would lock you up for it, but since you are leaving. I'm just to happy to do you any damage!"

"Well Vernon I'm proud of you for not hitting him. It seems those anger management classes are doing some good after all, but they wont reverse the damage you did to the Smith account. How could you have thrown a stapler at the man?" Aunt Petunia asked in a matter of fact fashion.

Harry had to stifle a laugh as he pointed his wand at his bacon to heat it up since Aunt Petunia hadn't bothered to keep his covered while she made the eggs. During this process he saw his cousin Dudley dash from the room in fear. Dudley had avoided him over the past week because of the magic he was using. He imagined that he must still remember all the terrible things he experienced due to misused magic. Harry smiled as he reminisced about that first night he found out he was a wizard, the same night Dudley had gotten a curly pig's tail protruding from his rump for eating Harry's birthday cake. What a good night that was. While he thought about the other times Dudley had gotten what he deserved through magical means he fiddled with his eggs and bacon. He wasn't very hungry. It was then that he was torn from his reverie, hearing the clock in the hall strike ten o'clock.

"Well, I'm off," Harry said.

Harry slowly walked upstairs to get his trunk and Hedwig. He packed what he hadn't already put away and levitated his trunk and Hedwig's cage downstairs, Hedwig on his shoulder the whole way.

"I'll see you there," he said to Hedwig and he let her fly to the nearest open window and get on her way. She wouldn't have traveled by floo if Harry had even asked.

He grabbed his things and dragged them over to the fireplace. He walked up to it and pulled out his wand. Pointing it at the fireplace he removed the boards that had been covering it since the mishap with the Weasleys right before his fourth year.

"Um... you won't have to worry about putting those back on. There won't be any wizards coming by anytime soon," he said while pulling a small velvet bag out of his pocket.

"Incendio." He said as he pointed his wand at the grate. He then turned to the Dursleys. "Er... have a great life... and well... Goodbye then." He threw some of the sparkling green powder into the fire and it instantly grew to an enormous size and glowed a deep forest green. He dragged his trunk into the grate and allowed the tickle of the warm flames lap at his body. "The Burrow!" he shouted and off he went into the spinning abyss of the floo network, with only a last fleeting look at the terrified faces of the Dursleys to remember them by.