Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but the plot.

Wayward Son

Chapter 1:

The weather on Number Four Privet Drive matched that of its inhabitants. Dark, dreary, and a little coldness. It alsoreflected the mood of most of England as well. However, it wasn't the weather that affected the Dursley's. It was the fact that their nephew, Harry Potter was about to turn Seventeen. Discarding how "weird" it was to dread an upcoming birthday of a supposed loved, as the Dursley's detested anything weird, it was also the fact that the boy's friend's had visited him everyday since he left school. Having been constantly been thrown thinly veiled threats behind the boy's back by a bunch of teenagers weren't enough, their nephew would be able to practice that which they hated most: magic.

Dudley Dursley could be seen squattling, because he managed to waddle and squat at the same time with his massive girth, grabbing his rear in some attempt that looked like he was trying to stop from soiling himself. For Dudley never really had a good experience with magic, whether sprouting a pig tail or growing a massive four-foot tongue, one could say it was his worst fear. Which, in fact, was quite true. Having the ideals of his parents pounded into his head since he was but eleven will do that to a child, especially one as pampered as Dudley. Harry knew of his cousin's great fear, due to a bittersweet inheritance.

Harry received quite the excellent haul, one could say. If that one wasn't Harry Potter. Thanks to his kind nature, and his impulsiveness, he gave the last year of an extremely old man the greatest time of his life. He gave the love he had never experienced, that of a child to a parent to the old man, one of which had collected one of the most rare and extremely valuable antiquities collection in existence. How could someone not when they live to be more than a century and a half young.

Harry though only received three things from the old man, three things that left a bitter taste in every way he could think of. Reminding him of the death of the old man he witnessed first hand; and reminding him of the man who murdered the old man. He was left a Pensieve, something extremely rare and valuable, and two books. One on the art of Legilimency, an act Harry could only call the raping of an other's mind. The other was a book on Metamorphmagi.

Harry occasionally flipped through the book on Legilimency, glancing here and there on various subjects the book covered. He wasn't really interested in the subject himself, but he was starting to smarten up and realize that on his upcoming quest, it could mean life or death if he knew the subject extensively. He now was getting the basics, watching scenes pass by his mind's eye whenever Dudley looked at him of a pig tail and a gigantic tongue, and scenes of his best friends in each other's eye whenever they weren't paying attention to Harry himself. Though he didn't like the subject, he wanted to master it for one singularly purpose: give Snape what he has coming. Harry would enjoy punishing the Half-Blood Prince.

Harry could only understand one reason why he had the Metamorphmagi book. He also thought it was a smashing idea. He would need a disguise while journeying through England and possibly the Continent. He also didn't want to be recognized when and if he had to go to the Ministry. He could do just enough to grow his hair and change the color. He wouldn't let Rufus Scrimgeour sucker him into helping the ministry. He may be naïve at times, but was smart enough to realize that when he goes to get his Apparating license, that the Minister would possibly kidnap him. He was a bold fellow, bolder than Fudge at any length.

That was in a day, when he would journey to the Ministry for, hopefully the last time. While some will know of his presence, he hoped his network of friends in high places would cover his trail until he'd be long gone. He had been dreading it since Ron told him that he had to go to the Ministry for the test since he wasn't in school anymore. Poor Ron had to take the test three times before he could come over to Harry's.

Hermione had had hers since school and on her visits, would twirl her wand in front of the Dursley's while talking about the most muggle of things. Harry found himself out of the room as much in it trying to control his laughter at the look on their faces. She enjoyed it most, he could tell, by the image of a skinny Harry appearing on the school train his First Year, under-fed and looking sickly. His heart swelled with pride at seeing that, but he was ashamed that he ever looked like that.

During one of her daily visits, Hermione brought Ginny along once, Harry's ex-girlfriend. He still got butterflies when he saw her, but not like before they went out. He had other things on his mind than a relationship right now. He knew Ginny could protect herself, but she was a lovely distraction from almost everything, save a giant basilisk and part of the soul of the most evil wizard of their time. Plus, the fact that when she visited him, she wouldn't look at him in the eye, and whenever he did, he would catch a flash of a dark room, and a feeling of guilt and slight shame. He didn't quite understand it, but assumed Hermione told her about his practicing of Legilimency, giving the reason why she avoided his eyes, besides the the shame he would feel during those split seconds he caught her eye. Harry would solve one problem at a time though.

Hermione and Ron had left for the day, both going to Ron's house. Harry wished he could go, but from what Ron was telling him of how the Twins took his and Ginny's relationship and subsequent break-up didn't bode well for him and he decided he would put it out of his mind until he crossed that particular bridge. It was times like those that Harry truly loved his friends. He believed, almost, that they were soul mates. Even the love of his life would never replace those two. How could he not believe that, when they trusted him so explicitly that they willingly allowed Harry to practice Legilimency on them. He also had to train them in the art, and also in Occulmency. Harry felt he had no need to learn that particular subject, but, grudgingly, learned the basics quite on accident. While he was half-way through the Legilimency book, it had given a crash course of sorts in Occulmency that Harry didn't pick up until he realized what each particular exercise was for, and also allowing the rudimentary skills of slightly blocking his mind and knowing when someone was sorting through his thoughts.

Harry was leaning back in a chair, granting himself a reprieve of sorts from his learning, twirling his wand and stroking an irritated Hedwig because she had no mail to carry and it was too wet to fly when his door was kicked in. There, in the doorway, stood the raging bull known as Vernon Dursley. He was red in the face, more so than normal and huffing like elephant who just got done mating. Harry merely looked on with a quirked eyebrow, guessing this was the boiling point for a greedy Dursley, having seen flashes of last summer's "conversation" with Dumbledore in his head.

"Alright boy, now I've been waiting for that supposed goodness I've heard about from that ruddy headmaster of yours to kick in and offer me my family's share of that wretched inheritance of yours for a month now, and you haven't even mentioned our share," he huffed again. Harry gave a slightly amused smile, relishing the fact Sirius could still cause trouble in death, infuriating Vernon more.

"I haven't mentioned it before because you haven't any share to speak of," Harry explained, "you weren't in the will, that money was for me!"

"Why, I never!" Vernon shouted back as if Harry called him some foul thing, "After what me and my family has been put through just to take care of you."

"Well, be that as it may, I'm not feeling as generous as you and your family. No, I think I'll keep it." Harry said nonchalantly.

"You sure about that boy? You know you can't do your hocus pocus for another couple of hours, I could always let Dudley replace his broken down punching bag for a few hours."

Harry had not thought about that. However, he wouldn't lose this argument. "See this," Harry pointed at his watch, "one press on this will let them know that I'm in trouble, and a couple of them shoot first and ask questions later," he made up. He watched as Vernon's color drain, but return quickly as well as an almost visible light-bulb going off over his head.

"Then I'll take you to court, and we'll see who wins!" he pumped his fist victoriously.

Harry grinned, out thinking his uncle once more, though it was not that hard, "And what will you say, 'the boy has that wizard gold! Make him give it to me!' I bet that goes over smashingly," he gave his snarky reply as Vernon gave an inaudible yelp as he slammed the door shut.

Harry thanked his family for times like that, cheering him up by being their lovely selves. Harry laughed alone as he continued stroking Hedwig. It was times like this, that Harry had to watch out for. He couldn't really stop them though. The times when he would start to think about Sirius and Dumbledore. He didn't even realize what he was thinking about until he was done on his reflections. It wasn't sadness that would take hold of him, but hopelessness. He always assumed Dumbledore would be there at the end, telling him how exactly to go about destroying the one once known as Tom Riddle. Harry could only think of a few scarce things he had learned about the Dark Wizard to help him along. He mostly thought up slurs against him, that which would surely guarantee a death of his, whether painless or horrifyingly slow, depended on how well Harry succeeded in mocking the Dark Lord.

Harry only had a few inklings on how to go about finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes. They would most likely infuriate Hermione, who was too much hands on for her own good. Great friend, but she had a little too much characteristics of a feminist and more of a 'saving-the world' thing than Harry. She would just have to bite the bullet, Harry felt, because this was his journey and he was the boss whether her and Ron like it or not.

Harry decided on taking a quick nap before going off and Apparating to the Burrow, since time would fly by a little more quickly if he did. Harry was almost positive that Death Eaters wouldn't attack him here after the protection of his mother wore off. They would most likely try and ambush him going to the Burrow or walking to the Burrow. Harry was afraid of the junior Death Eaters, like Malfoy, trying to score some points with Voldemort rushing his house. He wouldn't be able to handle them all, but Harry had some booby traps for anyone of magical origin that entered this house he discreetly had set up by Ron and Hermione, and few more he was going to do just to make sure his generous family wouldn't be harmed in the future.

Harry's alarm woke him up at a minute after midnight. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and finished packing his things, or did it by magic as he walked around the house, placing charms and hexes here and there, and the occasional one for the Dursley's. He felt that the protection was no longer there. He felt almost unwanted at the house. He walked back to his room and shrunk his trunk down and put in his pocket and did the same thing with Hedwig's cage. Hedwig perched herself on Harry's shoulder, gripping somewhat tightly. Harry, in one last spurt of inspiration, sneaked into the Dursley's bedroom and spun around, leaving the loudest crack he could, faintly hearing the yells of his uncle and shrieks of his aunt as he appeared at the bottom of the hill towards the Burrow, and chuckled to himself as he walked into a Mrs. Weasley hug.

AN: And here it is, y'all. Title is inspired by one of the greatest songs ever , Carry on my Wayward Son, by Kansas. If you've never heard of it, download it. It just really reminded me of ol' HP. I hope you all enjoy the story! Jimmy Coin