Authors Note: Here we go again ladies and germs, The Rotten Writer here again with another fun filled drama of chaos and mayhe… wait… sorry, wrong story.

Anyway, I wanted to point out a coupe of minor things here before moving onto the story itself. This particular chapter is a bit of a departure for me in some ways. First events that take place in this chapter do not do so in a linear manner. There are events set on the day after they get back from Hogwarts. There are events that take place on July 31st, Harry's birthday. And there are events that take place the next day.

However these are not written in chronological order. There a bit of bouncing back and forth between past and present events. I tried to have it all make sense without having to add dates to the different sections, so hopefully I managed that and it won't be too confusing. I'm leading up to a bit of fun and some minor crazy before we dive into Seond Year at Hogwarts, I'm thinking the next chapter should probably be the last one for their summer, chapter after that they'll be back at school.

In other news… in other news… OH! Jeez, almost forgot what I was gonna say. I've decided to temporarily forgo my planned update every Tuesday schedule that I've been doing. I'll still try to have a chapter every week at the very least, but if I finish early I'll post early. If I finish a little later, well, that's what happens sometimes. We'll see how that all works out for a few weeks and I'll revisit but I just wanted to give you all a heads up on the posting plan.

Disclaimer: I still own no portion of the Harry Potter franchise. I'm just playing dress up with Rowlings' creations.

And now, Chapter Sixteen of Sould Scars

Soul Scars Part Two

Darkness Within

By,

Rtnwriter

Twelve-year-old Harry Potter groaned and rolled on the small crib mattress that took up the vast majority of the space inside the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive. His battered ribs protested the movement quite vehemently, signaling his brain with pain to tell him that moving was a bad idea. Once he had finally turned enough, he spat a mouth full of blood onto the floor and settled onto his back again, too pained to even think about moving.

In fact, he was really in too much pain to think at all.

How could you have been so sodding stupid, Potter? he admonished himself, staring up into the darkness. Just sneak away from the Boneyard, just for a couple of hours, to collect your mum's things. Nothing could possibly go wrong. You can legally do magic out of school. Bleedin' idiot.

Just because he could legally perform magic outside of school, that hadn't meant anything when his enraged whale of a cousin blindsided him the second he was in the door. Harry had stood outside the door to Number 4 for some time, considering if he should really do what he intended to do. Maybe he should have asked someone to come with him?

He'd shoved his concerns aside and knocked on the door after checking for the reassuring presence of his wand in his back pocket. When Aunt Petunia answered the door he'd barely had time to take in the expression on her face morphing from shock to rage so fast it left his head spinning. She'd yanked him into the house by a fistful of his shirt and before he could reach for his wand a fist the size of a chevy hubcap crashed into the side of his face and the blackness overcame him.

He cringed and bit back a pained groan. Even that slight motion had sent spasms of pain through his body. He laid as still as he possibly could for some time, thinking of the events that led up to his current predicament before he eventually fell into a fitful doze just before dawn.

#####

Harry plucked, somewhat nervously, at the front of his robes. It was a new experience still for him, actually having clothes that fit and were new. At s hook, the novelty had worn off quickly since that was school uniforms. For the first time in his life he was able to dress in casual clothes that were all his of both the muggle and magical variety. It had been unanimously decided, by the various women in his life, that dark tones were definitely best for him. He didn't understand what that meant, really, other than that the clothes he bought last Christmas with his girls leading the charge were all in darker colors. Dark reds, blues, greens, and plenty of black.

The black he could live with. He liked wearing black. That's why, on their first day back after leaving Hogwarts for the summer, he was dressed in a pair of black slacks with black dragon hide boots, a black long sleeved dress shirt and over that a set of black wizarding robes with a dark red inner lining that gave a splash of color when he walked. Overall, he had to admit, he liked the effect.

"Mister Potter?"

He started out of his thoughts, looking up at the Goblin that had approached him where he stood waiting in the lobby at Gringotts.

"Griphook," he greeted the creature warmly with a closed lipped smile on his lips. "It's nice to see you again." He bowed slightly toward the goblin. "I pray your enemies have all learned to curse your name and fear your blades."

"And may your enemies gold line your pockets, Mister Potter," Griphook returned, mirroring Harry's bow. "Sharpshard will see you now, and he thanks you for your speedy response to his letter."

"Well, when I received it this morning, everything just fell into place. Madam Bones is my new guardian, temporarily at least, and she had the next week off of work already so was easily able to escort me."

"How have you been adjusting to life in the magical world?" Griphook asked politely as they walked and Harry considered that for a moment before he answered.

"Well, it definitely has been an adjustment. I'm not certain I'm entirely comfortable with it, to be honest, but I'm learning and getting better with things. I think I am at least."

"Understandable," Griphook said with a nod.

"And thank you, Griphook," he added, "for not calling me 'Lord Potter' out there where someone might have heard."

"You expressed a desire to keep that information private. We take our clients privacy very seriously," Griphook said with a nod of his head. By that point they'd reached the office and Griphook opened the door, ushering Harry in ahead of him before closing the door and taking up a position behind Sharpshard who was seated at his desk.

"Ah, Lord Potter," Sharpshard said. "Thank you for meeting me so quickly."

"It was no problem at all, Sharpshard," Harry assured him. "Your letter sounded urgent."

They exchanged the usual greetings and Sharpshard frowned, gesturing with one hand as a teapot and a carafe of coffee appeared on his desk. They prepared their own cups, Harry, once again, noting a lack of cream or sugar but for some reason there was a small salt shaker on the tray and he grinned before adding a bit to his coffee.

"I wouldn't say the situation is urgent, specifically," Sharpshard said after a moment where they sipped their drinks in silence. "It has sat for over ten years already, after all, but one of the services offered when a new Lord takes up his Head of House status is a complete audit of all vaults belonging to the family. This way we can give a accurate listing of all items, heirlooms, and so on that may be in the various vaults."

"Makes sense," Harry said, nodding to show that he understood. "Am I to understand that you found something noteworthy in one of my families vaults?"

"We did indeed. Your father, Lord James Potter, kept a desk in the family vault. The desk contains several packages of documents and files for the head of house which we, of course, did not read through in any way. Several of the drawers are locked and blood keyed so only a direct family member of the Potter line can open them. But sitting in the center of the desk, right on top of the blotter, we found this." He reached into a drawer in his own desk and withdrew a large envelope. The parchment was faded and yellowed and sealed with a large wax seal imprinted with the Potter crest. On the front were the words 'To Harry', written in an elegant, flowing script.

Harry carefully set down his cup and reached out with a shaking hand to accept the letter.

"I believe, that your mother left that for you," Sharpshard informed him in a quiet murmur. "Like I said, it's kept for this long, so I did not feel it was urgent, per se, but I also know how little there is of your parents and I felt it would be a great disservice not to inform you of this as quickly as was expedient."

Harry was quiet for some time, simply staring at the worn envelope in his hands before finally glancing up at the aged goblin on the other side of the desk. "Thank you, Sharpshard. I really appreciate you bringing this to my attention."

Sharpshard simply nodded and moved on. "There were a small number of other items that have come up that I wanted to speak to you about eventually, since you're here, would now be an acceptable time?"

"Of course," Harry said and straightened up, reluctantly tucking the letter into his robes. "What was it you needed to discuss with me?"

They spent the next half an hour going over some of the business ventures that were bringing a continued profit into the Potter vaults as well as a few that had tapered off to the point where Sharpshard recommended selling off the shares Harry owned and moving the funds into other companies. With his limited knowledge Harry decided that the knowledgeable goblin was far better suited to making such decisions and drafted a letter giving Sharpshard greater autonomy over the family investments so that he wouldn't need to check in with Harry for such items like completely selling out shares in one company or another.

Eventually, with their business concluded, Sharpshard handed Harry a folder with the complete list of heirlooms and items stored within the Potter family vault for him to look through at his leisure and Harry thanked them both and left the office.

After several quiet moments Sharpshard rubbed his chin and mused thoughtfully, "I wonder why Lord Potter hasn't brought up looking for information on the bond he shares with his ladies. With how inquisitive he appears to be and how willing to search for information pertinent to him, I would have thought he'd be asking everywhere he could."

"I think I may be able to answer that, actually, Accounts Manager," Griphook offered, hesitantly.

"Oh?" The old goblin turned his attention to the teller, a single bushy eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Yes. When he arrived here during the holidays, he commented that he had questions regarding his families finances and such and when I asked if he had sought information from any wizards he commented why would he ask a wizard about something that is controlled by the goblins. I believe, given that mindset, that he would be unlikely to ask us since there are no stories of goblin soul mates. It seems he might see it as something strictly limited to humans so would limit his search to that area."

"Hmmm… Not an incorrect assumption, but it does show a blind spot in his awareness."

"That may simply be because of his age."

"True enough."

"Would you like me to send him the information that we have on Soul Bonds and soul mates?" Griphook asked.

"Not yet. I want to give him some more time to see if he comes to the conclusion on his own."

"Understood, Sir."

#####

"Is everything okay, Harry?"

Harry looked up from the sundae sitting on the table in front of him. The ice cream was melting and he'd been staring blankly at it for several minutes. Hermione was spending the day with her parents getting ready for their annual vacation, something they apparently did every summer. She had been less than thrilled for the first time in her life since she'd wanted to spend more time with Harry, Susan, and Daphne over the summer, but the other three had encouraged her, loudly, to spend time with her parents. She hadn't seen them for most of the year except over the Christmas Holiday and Harry, more than anyone, understood the importance of family.

"I'm not honestly sure, Daphne," he admitted.

Susan slid her seat closer to his offering her silent support.

The four of them, Harry, Susan, Daphne, and Amelia had spent a few hours after his meeting at Gringotts shopping around the Alley. The girls had dragged Harry to Madam Malkins again since, with the potions he'd taken the previous school year, he'd grown considerably and most of the clothes he'd bought over the Christmas Holidays no longer fit quite right. After, they'd found themselves at Fortiscue's, enjoying a rest and a cool treat in the warm summer afternoon.

"Sharpshard had an audit done of my family's vaults," he said. "Apparently it's something they do when a new heir takes over the family accounts…" he trailed off and hesitantly reached into his robes, removing the faded yellow envelope from where he'd tucked it securely into an inside pocket. "I think… I think it's from my mum," he muttered and Susan pushed her seat even closer, wrapping one arm around Harry's shoulders.

After several quiet minutes had passed Amelia cleared her throat and stood up, drawing the three children's attention to her. "Why don't we head home?" she suggested. "I think you should read that, Harry, and I think it might be best to do it someplace less public, but in the end it's entirely your decision." She offered the young wizard a warm smile and he nodded, his lips twitching but not quite approaching a smile himself.

In moments they were gone, a few gold and silver coins resting on the table as their sundaes sat forgotten, melting under the heat of the sun.

#####

When they arrived back at the Boneyard Harry walked away without a word and Susan and Daphne cast worried glances in his direction.

"Just leave him be," Amelia offered and led the girls into the sitting room. A tray with a full tea set was already waiting for them and they sat and helped themselves to some biscuits while her aunt poured the tea. "You can't help him with every little thing, you know," she told them. "Sometimes you just need to let him deal with things on his own."

Susan sighed. "I know, but after last week… I don't know I'm just having trouble letting him out of my sight. That idiot… he downed that potion and just ran ahead, he left us behind."

"He did, but you understand why he did it, don't you?"

"Because he didn't trust us to help him," she grumbled and Amelia shook her head, her red hair swishing back and forth with the motion.

"No, Susan, it isn't that he didn't trust you. It's not about trusting you, it's that he didn't want you to get hurt. I know to you that sounds like he didn't trust you and your abilities but you've got to remember what Harry has been through so far in his life. He's never had anyone. No one close to him, no one he could trust. You girls, you've gotten closer to him than anyone in his life has ever managed and he's terrified to lose that. You mentioned how he'd make excuses for his Uncle over the years. What were those excuses that he made?"

Susan frowned as she tried to think back. She had only heard part of that conversation on Christmas day along with Hermione. Harry had been talking to Daphne when they'd approached and he'd been further down the hall than they were.

"He said it was his fault. That he'd messed something up or ruined something or made a mistake," Daphne cut in. "Every excuse he made put all of the blame squarely on himself."

"And that's how Harry views the world. When things go wrong, when people close to him get hurt, he's going to blame himself. So it isn't that he didn't trust you, it seems to me it's more that he was just so desperate to protect you, and to protect himself that he just couldn't risk you coming with him."

Susan and Daphne considered that for a moment before they nodded, somewhat reluctantly, in agreement.

"Finish your tea, and go find something fun to do," Amelia said, giving them a warm smile.

Daphne looked up. "Actually, Madam Bones?"

Amelia glared at the blond for several moments before Daphne suddenly blushed and corrected herself, "I mean, Amelia."

"Yes, Daphne?" Amelia said, a pleased smirk twisting her lips as both girls rolled their eyes.

"We wanted to go swimming, but we were wondering if you could teach us a spell first?"

Amelia arched a brow at them, her curiosity piqued. "If it's one I know and not dangerous I might be convinced. What spell and why?"

"We wanted to learn some glamours," Susan told her.

"With the scars… Harry still doesn't know," Daphne added in a near whisper, as if the young man might pop up at any moment and hear their discussion.

"We want to teach Harry how to swim, but we don't want to show him the scars so we were hoping you could teach us some glamours to hide them."

At that, Amelia frowned. "You haven't told him about the scars yet? After finding out about the bond I would have thought the scars would be the very next thing you explained to him."

"We wanted to, honestly. But the sorting hat… when we were sorted, and the hat told us all about the bond and that the four of us were all together in it, it talked to us for a bit afterward. It asked Harry to leave, actually, so it could speak to the three of us alone."

"And?"

"And it told us that we really, really, needed to hide the scars from Harry. At least for a while."

"Why?"

Daphne quirked a sad smile at the older witch. "You said it yourself, Amelia. He blames himself for everything. Right now… we're better, our relationship with him is stronger than it's ever been. But we have a lot of growing to do, and he has a lot of healing to do, still. Can you honestly say that if he found out right now that he'd be okay with it? That he'd listen to reason and understand that it's really not his fault?"

Susan shook her head while her aunt pondered that. "You know he wouldn't be able to, auntie," she said. "He'd blame himself, and he'd distance himself from us. He'd be trying to avoid hurting us like the noble prat he is, but it'd just hurt all of us more in the long run."

"We still don't like it, but he's just not ready for it."

"You realize that even if you were to apply a glamour to the scars that they're still there," Amelia pointed out and both girls blinked at her. "Even if they can't be seen he'd still be able to feel them. I said the same thing to him about his Head of House ring for his family. I knew you girls would be able to feel that ring on his finger even if you couldn't see it so I encouraged him to tell you three about it. Same thing here."

They frowned at that but couldn't really think of anything.

"Let me think about it," Amelia offered. "I might know a few people I could ask a couple of discreet questions as well. Maybe someone knows of a way to hide them so he wouldn't be able to feel them even if he touched your arms or your back. In the meantime, go relax, maybe start on some of your summer work?" she added the last with a hopeful tilt to her voice but after the girls hugged her in thanks and scurried off she didn't hold out much hope that they would immediately start on their homework.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair for a moment before she called for Binky and requested he bring her some writing supplies and parchment. She apparently had a few letters to write.

#####

Harry felt like his mind was in a haze, somewhat confused, and slightly bemused by the whirlwind of activity that had taken place around him. After a night filled with horrific terrors in his dreams, sometimes of the old dream he'd started having the previous Christmas, and sometimes with new images of the fight over the Stone, he'd been woken from his fitful slumber by three loudly screaming girls who'd bounded into his room crying 'happy birthday' at the top of their lungs.

He was glad he'd replaced the glamours at one point in the middle of the night and it would be hours yet before he'd need to recast them.

Despite half-hearted protests he was dragged from his room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where he found himself seated at the head of the table with a pile of wrapped gifts placed in front of him.

He looked at the pile now, unwrapped and open to his inspection as the girls puttered around in the kitchen, helping to prepare a birthday breakfast despite Binky's loud protests that it was his job to cook and the mistresses should sit and let him do it. At one point, Harry glanced over and burst out laughing at the sight of Hermione engaged in a game of tug-of-war with the tiny elf over a spatula.

"No!" the little creature squeaked, yanking the spatula from her grip and ignoring her protests all the way. "Lady Grangy warned Binky. Missy Mione is not allowed anywhere near cooking if Binky doesn't want house burned down!"

Hermione huffed at that, but dropped into a seat near a still chuckling Harry, grumbling under her breath. He caught only a few random words, 'wasn't that bad' and 'small fire' being chief amongst them, which only made him laugh harder while Binky set about chasing Daphne and Susan away from his stoves.

Eventually, much later than intended, Binky was able to serve breakfast to the group while Hermione continued to sulk, Daphne and Susan smirked ant her behavior and Amelia just watched the proceedings with more than a little amusement while Harry examined his gifts. He'd received a book of Seeker Quidditch plays from Neville, a beautiful winter cloak in black with a scarlet trim from the girls as well as a small gift from each individually like sweets and some new quills and inks. Tracey Davis and Hannah sent him small gifts as well and he'd yet to open the large box that had arrived from the Weasley twins. Honestly, he was scare to, who knew what would happen?

One of his favorite gifts though, was the dragon hide wand holster he received from Amelia.

"This is just a step below an Auror grade holster," she explained as she helped show him how to strap it to his right forearm, everyone ignoring the flush that stained his cheeks when she pushed up his sleeve, showing the scars there. She said nothing and just helped him with the straps and buckles that secured the holster to the inside of his forearm. "The Auror grade holster has a quick release that requires a bit more skill," she added.

The rest of breakfast he spent eating with his left hand while he practiced holstering and releasing his wand. With a flick of his wrist the holster would propel the wand out and the magic in it stopped the wand at the perfect distance for him to simply wrap his fingers around the handle. The true Auror grade holsters didn't have that stopping effect, meaning that, once a person was skilled in the use of it, they made for a faster draw but required more skill to avoid having the wand just shoot out of your hand before you could grip it. Releasing the wand, with another accompanying twitch of his wrist, would send it shooting back into the holster with a loud click.

It was just as the were finishing their meal when a large brown owl swooped in the open window and landed on the table in front of Amelia, a small pouch tied to one ankle and a rolled up newspaper clutched in it's talons. It dropped the morning issue of the Daily Prophet and she wordlessly handed the paper over to Harry as she dug out a few knuts to place in the pouch.

The girls stood and crowded around behind Harry, reading over his shoulder as he straightened out the paper and look at the large headline on the front page.

Boy-Who-Lived ward of the Ministry

By, Barnaby Cuffe, Senior Editor

Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the wizarding world, the headline above is true. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has been announced as a ward of the Ministry. For those that may not understand what this means, I shall explain. A ward of the Ministry is an underage witch or wizard that is in need of a home, and a family to raise and care for them. The usual process for this, is any family, wishing to become the guardian of the child in question would petition the Department of Child Services at the Ministry. The various petitions would be examined and a family would be awarded custody by the Wizengamont. That's not happening in this case, however. The process is still to send the petition to the DCS, but they will pass along the information to Mister Potter directly and he will decide for himself what offer of family and guardianship to accept.

How is this possible, you ask? The Boy-Who-Lived is a minor, he shouldn't be expected to make such adult decisions for himself. Right? In our world a childs magical Guardian is responsible from such decisions, and Harry Potter, as with many children attending Hogwarts, is the magical ward of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, isn't he? Well, through my investigation I found that in the case of the Boy-Who-Live, this is no longer true. A search through the Ministry's public records uncovered that Mister Potter should, in fact, be addressed as Lord Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.

Yes, dear readers. Lord Potter accepted his status as head of house during the Christmas Holidays last year and as such is an emancipated minor in the eyes of magic and wizarding law. This allows him more freedom to make choices for himself, as well as the ability to use magic freely outside of school without coming afoul of the reasonable restriction of underage sorcery. How this has happened is unclear. I petitioned Gringotts for the answer, since they were the ones to supply the young Lord with his House Ring, but they stated, 'Gringotts holds the privacy of our clients in the highest regard and without Lord Potters express permission we will not be releasing any information regarding him, his family, or his business within our walls.'

I was then, politely, escorted from the premises by a dozen heavily armored and armed goblin warriors.

Well, that's it, readers. Lord Potter is in need of a new legal guardian and is seen as fit to choose for himself where he will go. Better get those petitions sent out soon, who know's where the young Lord will end up?

Harry frowned at the paper as he finished the article and Hermione slipped it from his grasp, unnoticed by him as he was lost in his musings.

"There's additional articles in here outlining how the petitions are supposed to be organized and where they're to be sent," she said as she flipped through the rest of the paper. "There's even an article talking about your Lordship and questioning… oh that's ridiculous!" she snapped in sudden irritation and tossed the paper aside.

"What?" he asked, focusing his attention back onto her as Daphne and Susan looked over the page that had caused Hermione's ire.

"Some Skeeter woman suggesting all kinds of outrageous explanations for how you could have accepted your head of house status as an eleven-year-old," she practically growled, glowering at the paper in Susan's hands.

"Well, Skeeter is getting more creative as time goes on," Susan spoke up, laughter easily audible in her voice. "We've got everything from Harry being trapped into a magically binding betrothal, to dabbling in dark rituals. There's even some accurate information in here. She mentions how powerful Harry is and that's her basis for considering rituals to increase his magical strength."

"Rita Skeeter is a bottom feeder and a blight on society," Amelia said, firmly. "Pay no attention to her or anything she writes. I'm fairly certain that woman wouldn't recognize the truth if it jumped up and bit her on the arse."

"So everyone knows I'm Lord Potter now," Harry remarked, idly spinning the house ring on his hand with his thumb, the large ruby glittering in the light as it rotated around his finger.

"It was going to come out eventually, harry," Amelia reminded him gently and he heaved out a sigh.

"I know. I was just hoping to be 'just Harry' for a while longer."

"You've never been 'just Harry'," Daphne pointed out. "And you never will be." He looked upset at that revelation but she pressed on before he could protest. "We know better, and you friends know better Harry. The vast majority of people in the world look at you and all they'll see, all they'll ever see, is the Boy-Who-Lived. Neville, Hannah, Tracey, and the rest of us, we all see you, Harry. But even to us you're not 'just Harry'. 'Just Harry' wouldn't have survived what you've been through over the years. 'Just Harry' wouldn't have faced Quirrell and You-Know-Who last year. 'Just Harry' wouldn't have saved Susan from a fall off a broom or saved me from a troll.

"You're more than 'just Harry'. And that's not a bad thing." She reached across the table and took one of his hands in hers, squeezing gently. "You're a powerful and remarkable wizard, Harry. You're brave… no… you're courageous," she amended herself with a grin as they all thought of the story Harry had told Neville deep beneath the school in their fight through the security measures around the Stone. "And you are more important to us than you know."

He nodded slowly, his expression guarded and squeezed her hand before taking his back and leaning back in his seat.

"Well, I think that's enough of the heavy conversations," Amelia broke in, pushing herself to her feet with her hands flat on the table. "Come on, kids. Go get dressed for an outing. We have plans to get to for today." She flashed them a bright grin as the girls eagerly stood and Harry almost groaned, looking rather hesitant to move.

"But aren't we going to get mobbed if we go out?" he asked. "I'd really rather not have to put up with that right now."

"If we were going to the Wizarding world, yes, but we're going out muggle style today so the odds of anyone recognizing you are rather slim." Amelia made a shooing motion with both hands. "Go on, change into something nice but we're not doing anything fancy so comfortable is a good choice."

Feeling a bit better about the proposed outing Harry ran up to the guest room, his room, he reminded himself, and quickly changed into a comfortable pair of black jeans and threw on his black trainers before turning his attention to a shirt. A month spent in a home that he didn't feel afraid to be in had changed many aspects of his thinking and he briefly remembered a conversation he'd had with Susan right at the end of the school year. His stomach clenched at the thought but he forced back the fear and changed quickly before glancing at himself in the full length mirror on the back of the walk in closet door.

Before he had a chance to change his mind he hurried out of his room and down the stairs to find Amelia and the girls already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, talking quietly until Susan, in mid sentence, glanced in his direction and fell suddenly silent causing everyone else to turn in his direction.

He stopped on the bottom step, self consciously fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt, firmly keeping his hands down. He was wearing a black long sleeved button down shirt that had an intricate celtic knot work design in silver on the left side of the chest. The shirt was unbuttoned and untucked and beneath it he wore a simple, white, wife beater shirt. The low neckline of the shirt revealed a single scar, a dark slash of a line that started just beneath the hollow of his throat and diagonally up, over his collar bone toward his right shoulder.

"Harry?" Susan asked hesitantly as she approached him. Her eyes were firmly on his, but he could tell she was working to not look down at the visible scar. "Are you sure? You said…"

"I know what I said," he muttered nervously. Unable to resist temptation anymore his right hand came up and traced the scar on his chest. "I hate them. But they're here. They're part of me… right?" He dropped his hand and shrugged. "I don't know I just thought… since we're going into the muggle world, and no one will know me… maybe I don't have to completely hide?"

She leaned in and gave him a firm hug. "You don't have to hide at all," she whispered before she stood back and gave him a smirk. "Besides, weren't you the one that said 'chicks dig scars'?"

Daphne and Hermione snorted with laughter and Harry blushed brightly as Amelia looked on in confusion for a moment before she sent the girls on to the Floo. She directed Harry along behind them, ready to side-along Apparate him to their destination and made a mental note to ask for an explanation to that line just before they vanished from the house with a quiet crack.

#####

Later that evening, Harry laid in bed thinking of the day he'd just had. It had been far more fun than he'd honestly expected. Simple and to the point. They'd arrived at the Granger household and Hermione had happily given them all a tour of her home. Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at the thought of her bedroom. It had simply been so… Hermione. A simply decorated room with a large bed, linens in soft pastel colors and two walls completely dominated by bookshelves filled to overflowing.

They had appeared in the guest bedroom where a fireplace had been magically added to allow the muggle home access to the Floo network, something he learned was normally not allowed but Amelia had been able to swing a special dispensation in Hermione's case. He wasn't sure how, but he wasn't going to question it.

From there the group had piled into two vehicles with Dan driving one and Emma driving the other and within the hour they found themselves at a mall, of all places. More specifically though, as he discovered, their destination had been the movie theater located at the mall. The next several hours was spent introducing Daphne, the least experienced witch there, to the joys of the muggle world including some shopping and a movie. The entire trip back home after the movie had been filled with the blonds' voice as she asked question after question, marveling at the sights and sounds she'd been exposed to.

While the shopping hadn't exactly been his favorite part of the day, Harry found that he'd still enjoyed himself, especially in light of the naked wonder on Daphne's face. She'd been even more astounded by the movie they'd seen though Harry couldn't remember many details of the film itself after the fact. His attention had been taken up by the witches surrounding him with Hermione on his right and Susan and Daphne sitting to his left, he found himself feeling more content than he could remember feeling in a long time.

He sighed and picked up the letter that he'd already read so many times he'd practically committed it to memory.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered to himself.

But if you don't check, you'll never know.

"I should ask for help. They keep telling me they want to help, as you pointed out last night."

True enough. But some things you've got to do for yourself.

He sighed again and set down the letter before climbing out of bed. He was still dressed in the same outfit he'd worn out that day and considered changing for a moment but decided not to bother. He wouldn't be long, with any luck.

Leaving the letter on his bed, he slipped from the room, quietly closing the door behind him and making his way down the stairs to the Floo Access. Careful questioning in the guise of curiosity over the last several weeks had increased Harry's understanding of the Floo and how it worked. In particular the chime the would ring throughout the Manor whenever it was used.

Tapping a rune etched into the fireplaces mantle, he deactivated that chime and, grabbing a small pinch of Floo powder, he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and tossed it into the fire as he called out, "The Leaky Cauldron." An instant later he vanished in a flash of emerald flames.

Elsewhere in the Manor, Amelia Bones looked up from the parchment work spread out across her desk in her private office. A tingling at the back of her mind told her the ward she'd added to Harry's room had been tripped, letting her know that he'd left the room. A glance at her watch, however, had her dismiss the warning. It was still relatively early in the evening, he was more than likely getting himself a drink or a snack even.

Since she'd keyed Harry to the Manors wards, there was no further warning when he fired up the Floo and left the Boneyard behind.

#####

"You little SHIT!"

Harry jerked, startled when the door to the cupboard burst open with a loud bang and the loud, obnoxious voice voiced him from the fitful sleep he'd fallen into. A large hand grabbed the front of his shirt and he found himself being hauled painfully from the cupboard and thrown to the floor. He struck hard, his shoulder flaring in pain and he bounced and rolled into the entryway wall.

Head ringing, vision blurred without his glasses he could just make out three shapes above him. His aunt and cousin were relatively easy to discern but the third form escaped him for a moment until it spoke again.

"To think, lying to the police about my dear brother," it screeched and he groaned when Marge Dursley reared back and drove the toe of her boot into his ribs. "You should be grateful for the loving care and affection this family has showered you with, you worthless little mongrel!" she shouted and kicked him again.

"It's like I've always said, Petunia, dear," Marge went on in a pleasantly conversational tone as Harry curled up into a ball on the floor, "when the bitch is no good the offspring will be just as rotten. It's not really his fault, you see, but he just can't help it, it's in his nature."

Harry tried. He tried to reach for his magic, he tried to focus, he tried to use his anger, but he was in too much pain. Too scared. Too frightened of the figures surrounding him. If he'd been more lucid he would have snorted at the insanity of it all. He'd faced Voldemort himself less than two weeks ago and stood his own, despite the fear. But Marge Dursley terrified him so much he couldn't even move. The only thing he could do, was keep pushing down on the link, keep suppressing his connection to the girls. This was his fault, his mistake, they didn't need to feel his pain, they didn't need to suffer for his act-

Wait…

A new thought sprang into existence, filling his mind, whirling chaotically as Marge and the others continued to chat above him. No one knew what their link was capable of. Maybe he could use it?

He hesitated, and paid for it with another blow to his side from the bitch's boot. Cringing away from the blow, and without another moments thought, Harry opened the link that connected him to the girls more than he'd ever done before, pushed it wider than he'd ever been willing to allow and as something sharp bit into his skin he pushed with all the force he could muster, projecting every thought, every feeling that he could through the connection and prayed.