Disclaimer: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction. As you all know, JK ROWLING, owns the Harry Potter universe, and therefore I have no claim to it. I read a lot of fanfiction, and as such have probably been influenced by these stories when writing this, however no 'copying' has happened intentionally. I like to think I have been as original as I can be when writing a style of story that has been done countless times by countless people! Nevertheless, enjoy! Please review, I know I would benefit greatly from the feedback and constructive (hopefully) criticsm. Flame if you must, but that's really just a waste of my time, and your own. It won't stop me from writing this!

Chapter 1:

Harry Potter was exhausted. For the past three nights, he hadn't been able to sleep. This wasn't a result of the terrifying nightmares and visions that had plagued him as a teenager, no; those ones had stopped when he defeated Lord Voldemort during his seventh year at school. What had stopped him sleeping recently however, was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, an idea that perhaps he was supposed to be doing something.

Harry had been living in the muggle world for nearly nineteen years, not staying in any one particular place for more than a year or so. It suited him better that way – after being forced to live at the Dursley's house his whole youth, and then having his life controlled by external forces left Harry loving the freedom that anonymity gave him. He had travelled all over the world, visited all the muggle tourist spots, and was pleased to recognize ancient runes carved into many of the ancient architecture in Greece and Egypt.

Only since leaving the magical world behind, could Harry honestly say that he was enjoying his life. Until now. Harry had a gut feeling that the niggling in his mind was suggesting he return to the United Kingdom, and immerse himself in magic once more. But did he want to do this? HELL NO.

Harry looked at his digital clock, and noting that it was nearly 4am, decided to just get out of bed now. It wasn't as if he was going to fall asleep anytime soon, and anyway, his alarm was set for 6.30am! Throwing back his doona, Harry stretched and swung out of bed, and headed straight for the bathroom. He walked quietly and carefully, trying to avoid the areas of the wooden hallway that creaked when one stepped on them, so as not to wake anyone up.

Flicking the light switch, Harry groaned. Wet towels had been left lying in pools of water on the tiled floor. Picking up the bright pink one, and a lime green one, and hanging them on the rail next to the bath to dry, Harry shook his head and smiled .All part of the job he supposed.

He had a brief shower, but in his hurry used a strawberry scented shower gel and grimaced. Great, he thought. I'm going to smell like a girl today. The air was cold when he stepped outside the steamy confines of the shower, and shivering, he reached for his wand. "Aguaevapro," he muttered, and immediately felt warmer as the water disappeared from his body. Just because he was living in a muggle town, didn't mean he couldn't use magic in the privacy of his own home, for those spells that were entirely necessary! Once a wizard, always a wizard…

As Harry sat at his kitchen bench, devouring his way through peanut butter on toast and a bowl of apricots and yoghurt, he debated in his mind the pros and cons of him returning to the magical world, to seeing his friends, and enemies, once again. The first year or so away from his friends, and those he considered family had been bloody hard, Harry wasn't going to deny that he had missed them, of course he had! But was he prepared to come face to face with them again? That was the question. They probably think I'm dead, Harry reasoned to himself. Well, it's not as if I didn't leave clues behind – if Ron and Hermione searched my hideout that would have given them a hint of my intentions right?

Deciding that it was too early to give any real thought to the issue, Harry went about the rest of his morning routine, moving slower than usual however to kill some time before he had to go to work. By the time he had walked and fed his dog, Paddy, washed the dishes from last night's dinner and made a stack of sandwiches, Harry decided to just go to work early, he had nothing better to do anyway. He scrawled out a quick note on the pad of paper next to the telephone.

Gone to work early – sorry, no ride for you today, why don't you walk (don't hit me!) it'll do you good. Have a good one! What do you think about getting Indian for dinner?

As he stood in the front hall putting on his coat and checking he had all the papers he needed for the day, Harry heard the unmistakable sounds of reluctant person getting out of bed and stumbling towards the bathroom. Then he heard swearing, as the person found the bathroom door locked – it was already taken. Harry tossed up getting involved, and decided against it, and chuckling, he walked out of the front door and got into his Land Rover.

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"Good morning Harry, you're here early today! Ah… Here are your consultation appointments for today, and this fax arrived for you about ten minutes ago."

"Thanks Jane," Harry smiled at his new personal assistant as she fumbled around for a stack of files. She reminded him of someone he once knew, and liked her for this; he was automatically comfortable around this girl who couldn't have been more than 22. This job came with perks. Not only did he get a PA, he had a company car which he didn't have to pay the petrol costs for, free rent on a large house on the outskirts of Melbourne, and a company credit card which he basically had free reign over – expensive dinners, exotic holidays, new suits as often as he wanted….Ah the life. Not that he wasn't rich in his own right though. His parents had left him the entire Potter estate, and let's just say that Harry was a 'little bit' shocked when he was informed of the true extent of his wealth. Then when he turned twenty-one, he had received an owl from Gringotts, notifying him that Sirius had named him as his heir, and only now (by the Black family rules) was he old enough to gain access to their estate. So basically, Harry was rich. Very rich. He worked for a law firm which had branches all over the world for the last 12 years, primarily to add a sense of normalcy to his life. He needed to just be treated normally, which he knew was impossible in the wizarding world.

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Harry reclined in his desk chair and ran his hands through his black floppy hair. He loved his job, but he despised having to deal with his snobbiest clients, the Van de Briggs who, conveniently for Harry, were always in need of legal advice and new contracts for their multi-billion dollar business. They were just plain annoying, not to mention rude, and they always left Harry with a headache and in need of a strong coffee. Harry was just in the motion of removing his frameless glasses when he heard a tapping at the window. Harry froze. He knew that sound, yet hadn't heard it for years. Groaning, he lifted his head and was unsurprised to see a large snowy owl, not dissimilar to his old owl Hedwig perched precariously on the tiny windowsill of the high-rise office building.

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Dear Harry,

How have you been my boy? (At this, Harry snorted. He was, after all, 36 years old.) I apologise for my lack of correspondence over the past decade or so, however after all my letters to you, and those from your other friends returned un-opened, we decided to stop trying, having reached the conclusion that you had, unfortunately, died in the final battle, or have purposefully distanced yourself from us. I now know that the latter is the true explanation, however your reasoning is as always, a mystery to me.

I was made aware of your status by a member of the Order, whose identity I am not currently willing to divulge. Please know, that we recently started to look into many of the 'Harry Potter Sightings' reported in the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, as a dire situation has evolved in Britain, and by fluke, we were able to track you to Australia.

We have much to discuss. I ask you now to consider a conference with me, at whatever time and location is convenient for you, as I have a serious situation to deal with which I would much like to hear your opinion and advice for. Please Harry.

Affectionately,

Albus Dumbledore.

PS: I have said nothing of your location to anyone as of yet, the only person besides myself who is aware we have found you is my informant, who I can assure you, will not tell a soul. Find trust in me again Harry.

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