A/N: New chapter up! Hope you enjoy

Chapter 2: A new home

A small fox wandered down a quiet lane, enjoying the silence and keeping an eye out for the strange creatures he often sees in this area. He paused and looked up at the large house, the only one for miles around, when a small pop nearby startled him. He rushed away to the nearest bush and looked for the cause of the sound. There was suddenly a human standing right in front of the large iron gates which were intricately made with two huge beasts standing proudly on pillars either side of the gate.

The human looked up at the house and waited. The fox was curious as to why the human wasn't moving and stayed to observe him. His shoulders were slumped forward, in one hand he held a folder full of papers and in his other a small piece of paper and what looked like a stick. After a few long minutes the fox saw the human take a deep breath and slowly walk towards the gate. He reached out with one hand with a large ring on it and laid it on the middle of the gate. The fox was surprised to see the gate disappear and the human walk slowly through. Once the human was inside the grounds the gate quickly reappeared. The fox watched the human walk slowly up the long gravel driveway that had trees lining it on either side. The human didn't take his eyes off the front door and as he approached, he repeated the process at the gate, reaching out with his ring hand and vanished from view as the door opened and then closed behind him. With that the fox turned and scampered away in search of a hare for dinner.

Harry found the main door swing open to his touch and he entered his family home. The smell of stale air and the taste of dust where the first two things Harry remembers. The entire house was blanketed in darkness, but Harry could feel the dust in the air.

'Lumos' Harry whispered, the light showing that he was standing in what once would have been a grand entrance hall. Everything was caked in dust. It was clear that this house hadn't been lived in for many years.

'Who goes there?' a female voice called from Harry's left, startling him.

'My name is Harry Potter; I believe this is my home. Who are you?' Harry called into the darkness, trying to find the source of the voice.

'Harry? Little Harry! Is that you? Have you returned to us? Phillip! Wake up, it's little Harry come home at last! Harry my dear, we thought you died! We mourned your loss all those years ago'

'Harry!' suddenly came a male voice filled with hope, presumably the aforementioned Philip. 'Where are you? We can only see the light of your wand. Come closer.'

'Who are you? And, where are you?' Harry replied cautiously.

'On the wall dear' came the kind female voice. It was at this statement that Harry realised that it must be portraits of some of his ancestors. He walked over to the closest wall on his left and saw two dirty paintings hanging above a dresser.

'Oh my!' Exclaimed the female portrait. 'How you have grown! You look just like…'

'Yes, I know. And my eyes I know' Harry cut in dropping his head. A few awkward moments passed as the portraits sized Harry up and he kept his head bent.

'I am sorry Harry, I didn't…' began the feminine voice.

'I know. I'm sorry.' muttered Harry lifting his head to look at the portraits again, this time taking them in properly.

One the left-hand side was a tall beautiful woman with long blonde hair that was tied back in a plait. She was wearing beautiful green and black robes with the Potter Crest on the left breast. She had incredibly fine jewelry on her hands and neck, but the lower half of her portrait was covered in dust and obscured the rest of the portrait. She had wonderfully soft features, a small pointed nose and bright blue eyes and when he looked at her ears, he saw the same ones he saw every day on his own head.

His face softened ever so slightly at seeing a resemblance to someone other than his parents. He had never seen a picture of any other relatives and it was a small comfort to finally see this. He turned to observe the man on the right and saw the same unruly black hair that it seemed all Potter men were cursed to endure. He had dark brown eyes and a sharp jaw. He too was quite tall and broad across the shoulders. He was clearly a physically powerful man, but the dark eyes showed kindness. His portrait was even worse than the females but the green and black robes could still be made out, as well as the Potter Crest on the left breast.

'We are your great, great, great grandparents Harry.' Philip explained gently, aware that whatever happened all those years ago had taken a great toll on the man in front of him, 'I am Philip Potter, and this is my wife Cassandra. We are so glad that you have made it back to us alive. We thought you were dead. Where are your parents?' Philip asked this question softly, already guessing the response.

'Dead' whispered Harry. '17 years ago.'

Philip and Cassandra both sighed heavily. 'We feared as much' replied Cassandra, 'We knew something was wrong when the house elves told us they couldn't feel the Potter magic anymore. We guessed that Voldemort had found you and Peter had betrayed you all. We thought that since the Potter magic couldn't be felt by Filius and Frater that you had died as well. We are so sorry to hear about your parents, but we are glad to have you back home. You were the sweetest young thing.'

Harry looked up at his ancestors and saw the warmth in their eyes and smiles, even with the heavy layer of dust. Harry put down his things, climbed up onto the dresser and used his sleeve to try and clear some of the dust away.

'Thank you, Harry, but why not use your wand? You are a wizard I assume? You showed such amazing magic abilities even as a baby!' Philip responded.

Harry sighed and replied, 'It just didn't feel right.' Philip and Cassandra seemed to sense Harry's mood and let it slide.

'Harry, can we ask you a question? Why didn't Sirius ever bring you here? I know it was your parent's intention that if they didn't survive Sirius was to raise you here and keep you safe.' Cassandra asked gently, but with a hint of frustration at the jokester young man she once knew, Harry investigated each portrait, sighed and slowly climbed off the dresser.

He turned his back to the portraits and with a slow and heavy voice said.

'Sirius is dead. So is Remus. So is Peter. They are all dead. I am all that is left.' Silence hung in the air for a few moments until Harry broke it. 'Is there somewhere to sleep? I know you will have more questions and I promise to give them to you, but not right now. It has been a long trying day and I just need to sleep.'

'We understand Harry. We will send word to the other portraits about who you are and to leave you alone for tonight. We can talk when you are ready. Your old nursery and the family suite is up the stairs and to the right.' Cassandra spoke while Philip left his portrait, clearly on his way to the others in the house to do as Cassandra had said.

Harry turned back to his great, great, great grandmother and asked 'Are there any other rooms? I'm not sure I am ready to see their rooms yet.'

'Of course, dear' Cassandra smiled a sad smile at him. 'Up the stairs and follow the corridor to your left, you will find four bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms. Have a good sleep, my dear and we will be here when you are willing and able to talk.'

'Thank you' Harry thanked her, grabbed the papers from Gringotts and made his way up the stairs.

The dust was thick around him and he could feel the oppressive nature of the decay of the house. He found the guest wing easily enough and chose the first bedroom he found. He sighed when he saw what was in front of him, a big four poster bed but everything was decayed and dirty. Reluctantly he pulled out his wand and cleaned the room as best he could. He conjured some pillows and a blanket and sunk down into bed. It had been another trying day in a lifetime of trying days and Harry drifted off to sleep quite quickly despite the many thoughts rolling around in his head, unaware of the furious conversations that were taking place in the study of Potter Manor as the ancestors' portraits who remained met and discussed the return of the Potter heir. All concerned about the poor young lad who had turned up with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Harry spent the next two months getting used to his new surroundings. He met a number of his ancestors, the lucky ones whose portraits hadn't completely decayed over the last 18 years. It seemed that the Potter family were renowned for their fighting abilities with many of these ancestors being involved in conflicts throughout the ages. Some, however, were potions masters who had invented many helpful potions which had added to the Potter fortune, as well as curse breakers, knights and many more.

He would spend various amounts of time talking to his different ancestors but Philip and Cassandra always got more of his attention. They had been his first family contact since the Dursleys and Harry had appreciated their kind words on his first night.

The day after his arrival Harry had met his Grandfather, Winston Potter. His portrait was located behind the desk of the large study on the lower floor. Being the closest relative to him, Harry spent the most amount of time with him and found his grandfather to be a kind yet serious man. Someone who Harry only a few years ago had wished was around, but now, so used to loss, Harry merely chalked it up to another experience he had missed out on.

He had eventually told the Weasleys and Hermione where he was. He had sent two identical letters to them saying he was staying at his family home, that he was fine and that he just needed some space and would visit them soon or have them over. He had no real intention of having any visitors or going anywhere, but he knew that putting it in the letter would satisfy them for now. Most had been supportive, however Hermione and Molly had both responded in their usual overbearing manner, wishing him to reconsider and talk to someone. Molly had offered to come up and cook for him while Hermione had offered to come and help him get prepared for school. He had politely declined Molly's request but she never gave up and so he just stopped replying to her letters. He had explained in a letter to Hermione that he wasn't going to Hogwarts. He had tried to express why to her but she had always trusted authority too much and couldn't understand his reasons. Again, he had taken a view of silence towards her as well. He couldn't handle the continued pressuring to talk, to be out and about and to move past what had happened. Molly had clearly gotten so frustrated that a few weeks ago she had sent him a Howler. It was immediately followed by an apology letter from her but Harry didn't care either way. He shrugged both off and stayed resolute in his silence with her.

Beyond his minimal communication with his friends, one of the first things Harry did after moving into Potter Manor was sorting out his food situation. He wasn't going to call Kreacher away from Grimmauld place, especially now that Andromeda needed all the help she could get raising Teddy, especially as he was unwelcome in the Tonks' home. He knew it was just the pain speaking but when Harry had come over to see Teddy and Andromeda she had slammed the door in his face. Clearly she had needed someone to blame for all her loss and Harry was going to be that outlet. He didn't blame her and he didn't fight her. If she ever changed her mind he would be a part of his godson's life, but he didn't see that happening anytime soon.

He definitely didn't want to rely on Molly's charity and couldn't face going back to the Burrow just yet. He had initially felt some guilt for leaving without saying a word but it faded quickly enough. Isolation was what he needed. He was determined to be self-sufficient in his new home and with the help of different ancestors he had put many plans into action. Philip pointed him to a small muggle town only a few miles away that had all sorts of shops. Using the money from the bottomless pouch Ragnok had gifted him as a final apology, he had gone into the muggle town and bought all sorts of items needed for his continued existence and comfort.

He had bought a whole range of things for the house, cleaning equipment, new pillows and bedspread, basic food items and a set of new clothes. With his ancestors prompting Harry had also bought four chickens, a rooster, some wire, wood for a hen house and seeds. Winston told Harry that there was a garden shed in the backyard with all the tools he would need to create a nice veggie garden that would sustain him.

He was also directed to the large basement which not only had a large wine collection and a large room clearly used for spell practice, complete with dummies and a portrait of one of the best Potter duelists, but held a medium sized room full of hunting gear. Bows and arrows, traps, knives and some old pelts along with all that would be necessary to clean and prepare food for eating. It had some steps that led straight out into the backyard therefore avoiding any unnecessary blood carried throughout the main house.

After initially resisting the idea of hunting Harry had been brought around to the idea in one of his conversations with Winston. Winston had also directed Harry to a book in the library that explained how to use every part of an animal that was killed and the ethics of hunting for food. Harry had found it an interesting read and decided that he would give it a shot. If he could grow his own vegetables and hunt his own meat then there would be no need to leave the grounds of Potter Manor and that suited him just fine.

His entire life had been one trauma after another and despite some good times Harry had finally had enough of people. In his experience precious few cared enough about him to truly stick by his side. He had been lied to by the man he saw as a grandfather, a man he had trusted to his own death. The magic world had consistently turned their back on him during his school years and the muggle world had abused him and forgotten about him. He had defied death more times than he could count and was finally in a place where he could leave all of that behind and he wasn't going to give it up easily.

So he had built his hen coop, cleared out the weeds in the garden and planted a variety of vegetables. He spent most mornings practicing with the bow and arrow and found that he had a knack for it. He had managed to kill a few rabbits with traps around the grounds but it wasn't until a month into his new life that he managed to kill a dear. He had felt remorse and guilt when he stood over the body but was determined to honour the animal by using everything it had to offer. Under the instruction of Winston, Harry prepared the meat and stored it for the next week or so. He stored the skin and bones until he learnt how to turn them into something useful.

The other job Harry had set his mind to was cleaning the house. He couldn't stand to see his family home so diminished and at times it was hard to breathe due to the stale air and dust covering everything. He had started on the bottom floor where he spent most of his time. The kitchen, library and study were all now in much better condition and the various portraits still around were grateful for his efforts. He had been warned by Philip that he may find the bodies of the two family House Elves around the house as they had not been seen in many years. He had explained to Harry that House Elves relied on the magic of their masters to sustain them and without it they would have died.

Whatever charm Dumbledore had put over the Dursleys' house had stopped his magical signature being felt by Filius and Frater. Harry burned with anger at this. Once again Dumbledore had cost people their lives, all for his own purposes. It was a sorrowful Harry who ended up finding two small skeletons in his parents bedroom. Clearly they had gone to the place in the house that had reminded them most of their masters and laid down to die. Harry gently buried their bones in a grave outside and honoured them with some large tombstones. He hadn't used magic since the first night but had decided he needed it to ensure their tombstones would last and would have a proper engraving on them.

Cleaning his parents room and his nursery had taken an emotional toll on him. He had to throw out all the clothes and other perishable items as they had succumbed to decay over the years, but his mother's jewelry and a few other items remained. A small picture in a frame of a baby Harry bouncing in his mother's arms while a proud James looked on also managed to survive. He had stared at the picture for a little while but before he could let himself dream of what could have been he turned away.

It would do no good to think on what he had lost any longer. The nursery, even in its diminished state, proved to Harry that he had been well loved. The room was bigger than the one he had been reluctantly given at the Dursleys and filled with toys and magical items. The promise of a different life hung heavy in these rooms and after he had cleaned them, Harry promised himself that he wouldn't go back in. He would leave them as a shrine to the life he and his parents should have had, the only thing he took was the photo he had found on the desk. He placed a magical charm that he learnt from Cassandra that would keep the items in pristine condition over both rooms and closed the doors. Maybe one day he would be able to stand seeing those rooms but until that day he would leave them be. After finishing his task he threw his wand into the bottom drawer in his bedroom and there it had remained.