Chapter 14 – Platform 9 ¾ revisited

Standard disclaimer – don't own any of JK Rowling's works, nor am I profiting from them.

A/N: Thank you so much for your continued patronage of this little story of mine. I know a lot of you were hoping for some indication as to where the romantic/relationship aspects of this story are going, and truthfully the plot is woven quite tightly with how those develop. I would hate to broadcast such a spoiler to everyone, however, if it is a deal breaker to continue with this story please PM me, and I will lay out the particulars there (though the story might be significantly less interesting). Thank you all for the reviews and encouragement of the story and my writing, it means a great deal to me.

Her small soft hand snapped him out of his thoughts as it rested on his. "Harry" her voice was soft having lost her anger and sounded vulnerable. She wanted and needed to say something, something that scared her to know the answer. Harry could see her gathering courage and braced himself.

"Did you mean it … what you said … in the Alley?" Her eyes were bright as stars and Harry saw her hands shaking slightly. All of those devastating things she said, all of the apologies they both had to make, all of it faded and Harry was left with a swell in his chest and the answer slipped easily from his lips.

"Yes, Ginny. Every word."

She awoke with the bright sunlight pouring in through the small window to highlight the fiery corona of hair on the stark white pillows. Alone. She knew Harry couldn't stay, the risks were astronomical for him to fall asleep here with Aurors posted everywhere and Ministry officials taking statements throughout the night. It still hurt to not have him here. She could still smell the ash from his cloak as well as something distinctly him. Sandalwood and something so unique, Ginny imagined it had to be the scent of his raw magic. It wasn't all together unpleasant thought she hated what the smell meant.

She closed her eyes against the warm morning sun and remembered feeling his hands and warm body. Harry was so caring, so gentle, just a slow sensual kiss and then he held her. Held her like a loving husband would for his wife, as if by cradling and embracing her, he could ease all her fears and shield her with love. It soothed her very soul and contented her in a way that she thought impossible given her last year. Harry was a maelstrom of compassion, nobility, and love and Ginny felt privileged that she was the recipient of it, which was why she was grateful for any chance to provide that for him in turn.

She would not have believed it without his memory of returning to kill Voldemort or the insight provided by his Healer. And as the memory urged a bittersweet smile to bloom, she rolled over to his side of the bed and felt a heavy pillow. It looked rather deformed and Ginny's smile erupted into a wide grin. She reached out and eventually found the soft fabric she was looking for and pulled slightly. Harry's invisibility cloak slid quietly from him and she had a few precious moments of just watching him.

He looked so peaceful when he slept and Ginny felt a certain sense of pride knowing that he could sleep this deeply with only her and his cloak as protection from the dangers outside. Her love wouldn't be denied; she couldn't stay her hands as her delicate fingers slid through his now longer raven hair. Even with her careful touch, his eyes flitted suddenly and opened with a hard edge, hands instinctively reaching for his hidden wand. Upon seeing her and feeling her hands, Ginny felt the tension bleed from him and a contented sigh slip past his lips.

He murmured incoherently for a few moments and then ventured in a scratchy low voice, "Every morning, I wish for this." His eyes were shimmering in the sun and glow of raw emotion. There was also a keen sadness, knowing this moment would be fleeting. Ginny felt that moment arriving soon, and curled into his side much like she did at Grimmauld Place, and much like then felt at home.

"Harry? You know … you know I feel the same way." Ginny could not say the words and keep from crying in front of him and she needed him to see her happy before he left. He nodded and held her tighter, placing a gentle kiss on her lips then her forehead.

It was mid-morning when Harry finally left and shortly thereafter her family came to see her back to the Burrow as she was being discharged that afternoon. No one but George seemed to notice her repressed joy and contentment, and certainly no one noticed the slender key in her right hand, a gift from Harry for her birthday.

Harry swept from St. Mungo's under the cloak and out to Gringotts to secure a new property here in Diagon Alley and place in writing the official request if, indeed, Lavender wanted to become a ward of his House. He was strangely optimistic despite the circumstances, being with Ginny always gave his morale and mood a boost. He made straight for one of the tellers, and slipped a bit of parchment onto the counter, not wanting to reveal himself to the other customers.

As he was ushered into the Assistant Director's office, he apologized for the frequent visits over the last few days and the brusque nature of his last one. The goblins did not care one moment for any of the pleasantries, instead inquiring as to his visit. Harry surprised them by wanting to purchase one of the burned out storefronts and renovate it, but would not describe the business that he wished to start. The second reason was to set forth the preliminary paperwork for Lavender to enjoy the protections of House Potter. Lastly, was the important matter of Ginny Weasley, her upcoming birthday, and establishing her new vault.

Harry was a bit disheartened to see all of the lengthy paperwork that would be required for Lavender; it seemed his promise was a bit more extravagant than first expected. He hated to return empty handed, so he took a crest from a worn robe in his Potter vault as a pledge but it looked different than he remembered.

He noticed that the Potter crest had been changed with his father's lordship and only recently before his death. It incorporated a similar theme as the sohei crest. He never saw the Peverell crest, but he knew his father would have used parts of it as well for he had traveled much further with them than he.

He thumbed across the intricate design, searching for some sign of his father, or answers of what he knew, of what he had learned from the sohei. The crest design, itself, was balanced with a thestral and a phoenix twisting around a silver spire with the motto, In balance, strength. In strength, life. Harry smiled at his father's words as he heard them in his mind. A sign.

Lavender had only screeched mutely the first time Kreacher arrived with a whispered hush instead of the loud crack she associated with apparition. Harry was right; he was a different sort of elf, handsome and regal as elves go without the grotesque features or servility. He also must have heard from his master about her condition because he brought rare steaks and a mild tonic form of the Wolfsbane potion that took the constant joint pain away. He tidied up around her room and kept a respectful distance but looked regularly at the foot of her bed as if expecting something. Or someone, as was the case when Harry appeared giving her a warm smile.

"Lavender! I trust Kreacher has been good company, I hope the steaks weren't overcooked?" Harry sent his elf a warning glance to stay Kreacher's hand as it surreptitiously palmed a bed pan. Harry fought back a smirk at Kreacher's replacement cast iron pot; Lavender must have understood because her gaunt face cracked a similar smile. As Harry rolled his eyes at his elf, he was happy to see Lavender's smile persist.

"I made some inquiries at Gringotts about becoming a ward of the Potter house, and it can be done, but it will take more time and paperwork than I first expected." At seeing her face fall slightly, Harry shook his head. "Lavender, the offer still stands, and as proof" he placed the remade crest on the hospital sheets. Her eyes welled with tears and he saw the doubt creep in. She's afraid, afraid of what the cost is for my protection. Her arms wrapped protectively around her still thin frame and trembled slightly.

Staying calm took all of his newly found resolve, but he swore he would hunt down and kill Amycus as soon as could for so thoroughly destroying her.

"Lavender, you are well aware of the Potter name? Of what it, of what I as the last Potter, stand for? Loyalty. Family. Honor." His face was severe and she knew that these were not just talking points or dinner conversation, they were his tenets for living. He held the crest close to her eyes and let her absorb the words that Harry found so poignant under the intricate design. She glanced up at his fierce look and instead of fear at that hard look upon any other man's face, found herself strangely comforted and drawn to it. This must be that Harry Potter effect that the other Gryffindors always talked about.

Harry noticed Lavender thinking and mulling something over with a bit of effort. "I know the staff here at St. Mungo's isn't the friendliest for your condition, but they are some of the best at regaining your strength. And once you do that, the papers should be ready. After that, you will be released to the care of my House, but keep it secret. The enemies of an Ancient and Noble House are few but powerful, but the Chosen One's enemies are both numerous and powerful. Until we properly train you, that is." Harry's feral smile was matched by Lavender's own; it was clear she wanted revenge and the ability to protect herself and Harry was more than happy to provide both.

As Harry made his way back to the foot of the bed, he placed the crest next to her hand, "It belongs with you." He winked conspiratorially at her and then whispered to his elf loud enough for her to hear, "Next time though, for the steaks, a bit rarer." Kreacher's involuntary snatch for the bed pan was thwarted by Harry's Seeker reflexes before he shifted out of the room without a sound.

Having traveled to Gringotts, Harry was reminded of the corporations he purchased not even a day ago. Still rankled by Gabrielle's strange behavior, he decided to visit his French property. It would keep him from the purview of the Ministry and he knew Kenji was being attended by his father, so returning to the temple would be fruitless. She mentioned that the Veela knew of his changing, and that they would wait… Gabrielle knew he was there at St. Mungo's, she mentioned that she could sense him, which made him wary about his magical signature.

Harry knew the Ministry could, in theory, trace him based on his uniquely changing magical core. If a twelve year old Veela could sense the difference, the Unspeakables eventually would be able to as well. It meant he would need assistance sooner rather than later, and most likely French help because of Gabrielle and her father. Hopefully this visit to his company would secure their help on his own merits instead of having Gabrielle foisted upon him like some dowry or bargaining chip.

He had been reading the doctors' research to have some semblance of what they did and how he could use it to help his own situation. He dressed in a well-pressed expensive charcoal grey suit and shifted to the executive's office. He looked like a business man, but he also knew he was incredibly young. As he stepped out of the office and met his doctors, he was pleased to see them only react to his age for a few moments before being surprised at his fluency in their actual work.

The research coming from this particular experimental clinic was something that Harry knew had ramifications especially in the magical world; his main job was to keep these Muggle doctors blissfully unaware that such a world even existed. If Harry's intuition held up to the crucible of practicality, his new standing within the French magical community both politically and socially would be nothing short of revolutionary. It was with this faint hope that he rolled up his dress shirt sleeve and watched as the doctors drew his blood.

Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour flooed to the family manor from the Burrow; they had stayed until both Ginny and Ron were discharged that day from St. Mungo's. It was easy for them to escape Molly's questioning as she doted heavily on her two youngest children. Gabrielle and Fleur did need some motherly advice, but it was only something another Veela could answer. Apolline watched her daughters arrive into the kitchen and sit at the table to their steaming cups of coffee.

"Flower, what is it?" She ignored the pointed look Fleur gave her sister and waited.

"Gabrielle threw herself at Harry, literally over Ginny's recovering body. It was disgust…" Fleur was still angry at her sister.

"Fleur you would do well to remember your station …" Apolline's warning voice cut across her eldest daughter's rant. "We are Delacours and hold a certain place in French politics. It is not by accident. We, Veela, have tried to insert ourselves into places of standing and once there, try to remain." Those words struck Fleur cold, Gabrielle's anger at her and Bill became clearer, the Weasleys were a fine light family but were neither politically nor socially powerful. They wouldn't care about the inability to bear a male heir to carry the House line. They had no real money to speak of. Securing all of that for her family and the Veela fell to Gabrielle. The responsibility to marry for status fell to her little sister. Because I chose love instead of duty.

"Insert ourselves? That is barbaric." Fleur's face was flushed in anger at the custom, and also at the unintended consequences of her own marriage.

"Better it be our choice than be a slave or a conquest of war." Apolline snapped hotly, "A bound concubine living in the shadows can help ensure the safety of the coven. The Honored Mothers decided on this course long ago, when the treatment of Veela was not so … kind." She never had tried to explain this particular custom to Fleur because Gabrielle was always planned, promised to the Honored Mother's. But Fleur needed to hear how much her choices affected her sister.

She turned to Gabrielle, "the Mothers would like to know what happened, between you and Harry. Were you successful?"

Gabrielle's eyes showed her disappointment even as she shook her head no. Her shoulders slumped and Apolline reached out and placed a hand on her daughter's arm.

"Do not worry, Gabrielle. The Mothers did not expect you to be successful, this time." She finished with a pointed look. "They only wanted you to show Harry you were no longer just Fleur's little sister."

Fleur snorted , "Do not worry ma mere, Gabrielle acted like no little girl yesterday."

Gabrielle's eyes burned holes in Fleur's. Apolline waved her hand dismissively at both to diffuse their anger. "You are not ready to be bound to him, this was just the first step in the process."

Her youngest daughter was still lost in thought, "But why, maman, why is Harry still so important? Voldemort is already dead. Isn't he?" Her eyes were wide in concern about the Dark Lord, and Harry.

"Yes, Gabrielle. The Dark Lord is dead, but Harry's importance is only enhanced by vanquishing him. He is the Lord of two Ancient and Noble Houses, with House Black as the most powerful. He is a half-blood, raised in the Muggle world, with none of the prejudices of typical wizards. Harry is fiercely opposed to dark creature legislation and is a revolutionary figurehead. He could be a transformative force, if just pointed in the right direction by a patient and loving hand." Apolline's eyes were fervent in hope but immensely sad as she heaped the weighty expectations upon her daughter.

She closed her eyes and added one more final weight upon her beautiful daughter's willowy frame. "You, Gabrielle, were chosen just as he was, because you know him, through the TriWizard tournament and through your sister. The Mothers believe, rightly so, that he would never let you be sold or parlayed away, even if he refused you as a concubine. His nobility and compassion would allow you to remain in his house, even as a ward to spare your fate. Once you are within his circle, nature will take its course. You are after all, a Veela."

Apolline gave a pained, knowing grimace at the admission, but took solace in her daughter's fierce gaze. "You have much to give him, I know your feelings for him, and he will need you … at your sister's wedding I sensed his anguish and deep emptiness." She gazed with pride and love at her youngest daughter, how much she had grown and how much Gabrielle reminded her of her own choices, her own role with her father.

The subject of the Delacour's concern was still within France contemplating the very same issue. He had left the laboratory long ago and should have been pleased with their confidence in his idea, but the joy seemed hollow. Ever since speaking with Lavender about his abuse, his mind had become restless, disturbed, not at peace. He felt as if he was lying to her, he was not much further along in accepting his real worth, to shed his own self-loathing. There was so much more he had to confront, if he was going to help her and himself, to become whole and free.

He knew what must be done to exorcise those demons, but confronting the Dursleys filled him with both fear and rage. He despised the power they held over him; they infiltrated his spirit like Tom had. Like a horcrux, their voices were always there. He always felt their judgment, was always found to be lacking. He thumbed the crest in his pocket searching for some solace, some answer. In balance, strength. In strength, life. He heard his father's voice echoing in his mind with a harsh edge. It all started with the Dursleys…

A few days after the Diagon Alley attack, normalcy found another foothold in Britain. Kreacher had gathered them at Grimmauld Place to share concerns he had with them about the upcoming school year. While waiting for them to arrive, he awkwardly held Harry Potter's final letter for Hogwarts in his hand unsure of where or if to deliver it. His master had charged him with protecting his friends and he was unprepared for the cruelty of the Death Eaters' attack in Diagon Alley. He would not fail again and needed to know who and when his friends would be leaving for school supplies and Hogwarts itself.

As Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville seated themselves around the dining table, they all looked at each other and their letters. Ginny and Hermione's seemed thicker than the others. Ginny squealed in delight and was engulfed in a hug from Ron as she collected the Quidditch captain's badge within her letter. Ron was off and hugging Hermione moments later as she pulled the Head Girl's badge from her envelope.

Hermione read out Filius Flitwick's, the next deputy headmaster's, note, about school supplies, as well as McGonagall's option for those in Ron's year to accept Ministry posts without N.E.W.T.s or to return to further their schooling, those returning would have an automatic "Acceptable" in classes. Any better marks would have to be earned through classwork. Finally, the Headmistress was officially endorsing both a return of the DA and dueling club, as well as the Yuletide Ball.

Hermione already knew Ron's mind, he would be moving on to become an Auror. It was what he and Harry had planned since their O.W.L. year. He would also need the freedom from classes to pursue his minority stake in the Chudley Cannons. She knew in part, Ron wanted to help secure and promote his sister's Chaser Quidditch prospects as well as make his own salary. He didn't dare discuss it with Ginny unless he wanted to be hexed for interfering.

Ron knew Hermione was returning to Hogwarts to further her education to eventually become an active member of the DMLE to work as a prosecutor. He knew she would be Head Girl with certainty, and her new responsibilities and his job requirements it would be hard to see much of each other. Hermione thought she might have a bit of a talk with McGonagall about allowing Ron some allowances to stay at Hogwarts. With me, in my special dormitory. Her slight grin while watching Ron was met with a long eye roll from Ginny as if she could guess her intentions.

Neville and Luna spent their time chatting with each other, giving Hermione and the Weasleys a wide berth. Neville had been planning to join the Auror corp with Ron and Harry, but with the miraculous recovery of Frank and Alice, Neville had lost a lot of that furious need for revenge. His parents were also not keen for their son to risk what they had, especially now that they could try and become a whole family for the first time.

His true passion for Herbology made becoming an understudy to Professor Sprout and dropping most of the extraneous classes an obvious choice. The extra free periods gave him more time to spend with his parents, and not having Potions was just an added bonus.

Luna would return for her regular seventh year with Ginny so the options given by the Headmistress were moot, however, they were both ecstatic to see the return of the DA and reintroduction of the dueling club to better prepare their self-defense in response to the random attacks of Death Eaters. They were both excited to see Neville and Hermione work together, but it was really Harry that provided the driving force for teaching and had the ability to bring them all together.

All of them, including Ron would require supplies for the upcoming year, books, training manuals and such. The supplies would normally be purchased in London, but owl post shopping seemed to be more safe considering. Kreacher, however, had an alternative. He could purchase all of the books and tools using his master's gold and they could repay him. By doing so, Kreacher could immediately send it to the Potter vault and distribute it from there.

Hermione looked at the faery and saw his guilt over the last few days and agreed quickly to his plan. What she didn't know, was that this was the same plan his master had implemented for the Gryffindor laying in the quarantine ward at St. Mungo's. However, Lavender would not be returning to Hogwarts, she would need similar supplies as Ron for her training in the Legion would start as soon as she was fit.

They enjoyed a quick lunch and as they said their goodbyes, Kreacher motioned to Ginny to stay for a moment. "Mistress Weasley, are you still considering Master Harry's offer?"

Ginny's quizzical look told the elf all he needed to know, "The offer to stay here in London … I cannot guarantee anything, but if Master ever comes back to England, he will stay here. It would mean a great deal to find you here."

The fiery witch shook her head mournfully, "Not now Kreacher, I am still recovering, and Mum is watching me like a hawk. I cannot justify getting away, perhaps after my birthday she would be more … reasonable." She and Kreacher shared a knowing sardonic smile, Molly Weasley was rarely mistaken for reasonable when her children or injuries were concerned. But Ginny's birthday would have her come of age, and Molly would have no real say in what she could and couldn't do anymore.

"As you wish, and for your birthday, I was told to remind you when the time comes, please visit Gringotts with your key. Master Harry has left you quite a surprise."

The first thing Harry had noticed when arriving at 4 Privet Drive was the blood wards, while not functional still exuded a latent magic. The bright white tendrils of his familial protections were ebbing, but still shone like a beacon to Harry's eyes. He saw other layered protections around the quaint house, some recent, but the overgrown yard spoke of another truth. The Dursleys hadn't returned after going into hiding, Petunia would never allow such untidiness. Which meant the wards around the house were designed to fool Death Eaters … Harry's eyes raked across the streets until he found the wizard keeping vigil, laying in wait. An Auror stakeout, no doubt, with the subsequent ambush no more than a Patronus away. Harry's frustration roared in his ears, the Dursleys could be anywhere in Britain, his only lead was that the DMLE knew where they were, the Auror involvement proved it. He knew it was time to do some surveillance of his own.

It had taken two days of gathering information under his ancestor's cloak from various pubs where Aurors had visited and through the rumors circulating around the Leaky Cauldron. Harry Potter was certainly still a popular topic, and after his appearance in the Alley that was sensationalized by the Daily Prophet, people alternately wondered if he was being hunted by Death Eaters, or if he was fighting them to become the next Dark Lord himself. Apparently Arthur could not convince Kingsley to go public and clear my name.

It was this last assumption about turning evil that led him to listen to a muted conversation between two Aurors about moving and then placing some key witnesses under the Fidelius charm. Keenly aware of the risk he was taking, Harry leaned in closer to their table. Close enough to smell the cinnamon spice of Ogden's finest and after the first few words of conversation, quickly left the pub, and shifted back to his old home. The grizzled Auror's words ricocheted around Harry's mind. Dursleys, Surrey, Little Whinging.

Disregarding the surveillance paid to the property, Harry stood at the threshold of the abandoned home and began to analyze the blood wards. It was the only thing that tied Harry to them and he hoped it would be a signature he could trace back to his Aunt.

As dawn crept through the inviting darkness, he traced the last sigil and sat down and contemplated his next move. If the DMLE were planning an ambush at 4 Privet Drive, it was likely that the new Dursley home had no wards around it to make this home the obvious choice. That meant discovering another magical signature in the Muggle county of Surrey based on the protective wards was not an option. He would have to use Muggle means to find them and use the blood signature to make sure.

The Unspeakables didn't know about tracing through a blood signature because they would have tracked him with that instead of his wand, which meant they didn't know how to, but it didn't mean they couldn't learn. He sighed heavily, dismantling these wards would take time and caution, he didn't want to alert the Aurors before they fell.

It was around noon as Harry collapsed against a tree, wiping the sweat cascading from his brow. Albus really was a tremendous wizard. Dumbledore had strengthened and layered the wards more than Harry even thought possible, but his anger towards the former Headmaster fueled his determination. He was too tired to shift through all of Surrey, but he was so close … He thought back to those Muggle detective shows that Dudley watched and tried to recall what they did to find someone. His mouth turned to a tight grin as he knew of the one place where Vernon may have let on something, especially because no magical would ever want to be there. Vernon Dudley's pride and joy, his safe haven.

Grunnings Inc.

It was half past two when the young blond receptionist at Grunnings noticed a very young but extremely well dressed man step into the lobby on the first floor. He exuded such a seriousness and determination that was startling in someone so young that she tensed as he opened his mouth to speak.

Instead a smooth and soothing voice poured forth, "Excuse me miss, is the director, a Vernon Dursley here?" His green eyes were warm and she found herself gazing at him, barely noticing the faint twinkle in his eyes.

She hated to disappoint this young man, "Vernon Dursley is no longer working here, I believe he was transferred to another branch of Grunnings."

"Is that so?" pondered the dark haired young man in front of her, they couldn't have been more than a few years difference in age, but she felt so small compared to him. "Can you tell me where I can find him? I owe him a great deal in getting me where I am today." He flashed a winning smile and leaned in over her desk. She smelled a raw intoxicating scent that was so unique that she would forever associate it with this young man. "Excuse me, but I didn't catch your name?"

"It's Harry, Harry Evans. You wouldn't happen to have his address on hand?" She shook her head too vigorously and Harry knew she was lying. His eyes narrowed as he imagined why an attractive receptionist would lie about having her boss's address. "Are you sure, he didn't leave a new contact address when he moved on to the new branch?"

He wanted those memories at the forefront of his mind so this wouldn't be as painful as it was when Kenji did it to him in training. She lowered her eyes and refused his gaze. He slipped his hand into hers with a thin stack of fifty pound notes. She startled and after a quick glance to her hand, she glanced into his eyes. Perfect. In that gaze, he slipped into her mind, quickly sifting through her attraction and surprise at his boldness, and found the address he looked for. He also made quick note of the shame and restrained excitement at the memory.

Harry's eyes pinched shut at Vernon's audacity. With his receptionist, no less. Harry smiled viciously, with how much Vernon craved his normalcy and keeping up appearances. What a fucking hypocrite.

The young lady smiled back at Harry, trying to share in the moment. She remembered herself and the bribe in her hand and reached her hand with the notes back to him. He placed his finger to his lips, "I won't tell if you won't, consider it a gift, for helping me find my friend, Vernon." His conspiratorial whisper caused a slight flush to appear on her face as he kissed her hand and swept from the building. The best five hundred pounds I ever spent.

His body began to betray him just outside the drill company. With shifting throughout London, dismantling the wards, the Legilimency, and still recovering from the firefight in Diagon Alley, Harry was quickly being overwhelmed with exhaustion. He found a back alleyway and called for his faithful companion, "Kreacher." His whisper was answered with an equally silent rustling and the elated face of his elf appeared before him.

"Master!" Kreacher gleefully responded, his genuine excitement touched Harry, it seemed this elf was the only real family he had left and he was grateful for it.

"Is Grimmauld Place safe for me? Anyone else there, right now?" Harry couldn't keep the hope from his voice, nor the disappointment at his elf's eyes lowering. "No one, Master Harry, I … I tried."

"It is alright Kreacher, truly." He knew his elf would have done anything to make his hope, a reality. "Come, let's go back home."

Before the stillness of sunrise was interrupted by songs of birds and the delivery of owl post, Harry had already packed his Invisibility cloak and eaten a king's breakfast. Kreacher had been all too willing to cook and make himself useful to his true Master. It wasn't that the other tasks Harry had delegated to him weren't of great importance, but Kreacher felt complete when Harry was here at Grimmauld Place. Helping Mistress Brown at St. Mungo's, knowing her to become part of House Potter, also gave him great satisfaction, but assisting his Lord in unchaining his spirit from those Muggle abusers was most fulfilling. He even had a few suggestions as to their punishments for their cruelty.

Harry had readily agreed, though in the recesses of his mind, he had no idea what today would bring. He desperately wanted to strike back at the Dursleys to make them suffer as he had, but truthfully he was afraid of them, afraid of the power they held over him. Especially his uncle, though Harry was a Lord of two Houses, Vernon was still the towering giant wielding the fire poker, and he was still six years old hiding in the broom closet. Kreacher's cool hand quelled Harry's trembling fists at his side and offered his assistance with a knowing look.

Harry shook his head and smiled grimly, "Thank you Kreacher, you honor me and our House, but this is a demon I have to confront myself." His elf did not seem surprised and gave a curt nod in understanding. Harry felt a bag being looped over his shoulder and the hand resting on his shoulder give a squeeze before Kreacher shifted them to the location they discussed earlier.

Even as dawn began to lay flames to the darkness and birds erupted in song, Harry's heart clenched painfully in his chest. There was never this feeling of … panic when he lived with them before; it had to be with Riddle gone, with his imminent death and prophecy complete he now had to keep moving forward, living his life, whatever that meant. Living my life, what does that even mean … free from one evil, only to be replaced with an older one.

Practical preparations finally interrupted his thoughts and under his cloak, he traced the perimeter of the house, being careful not to leave tracks or disturb the yard. It was slow painstaking work, but he had to make sure his assumption about this house not having wards was true. He grimly remembered the blackened, dead hand of Albus Dumbledore to know what wards could do when disturbed.

He found not one, but two Aurors assigned to surveillance of the house, which would complicate his original plans, but any time for planning was ruined when Vernon and Petunia emerged from the house. Vernon was on his way to work, presumably, with the suit he was wearing, and his wife was dutifully following, already presentable with even a fashionable hat at even this hour, to show off to the neighbors. Harry's legs were moving of their own volition, carrying him towards a confrontation with them at their car. He heard … nothing at all, the blood flow causing a dull roar to echo around his senses.

He was about ten yards from the car and leveling his wand at his uncle when he saw something that stopped him short. It was his aunt, Petunia, her slender frame was ever so slightly shrinking away from her husband, cowed by his presence, but still doing her best to maintain her sense of propriety. It couldn't be that she knew about his receptionist …

He stood there in slow confusion as his adopted parents went through the practiced motions born from years of marriage but with this new almost imperceptible tension. Had he not suffered under them and received his recent training about body positioning and learning to leverage people both physically and emotionally, from his sempai, he would not have noticed anything amiss.

Petunia waited until the car had disappeared around the bend before slowly making her way back towards the unremarkable front porch. The clack of her low heels along the walkway stirred Harry from his thoughts and galvanized him to action. He quickly crossed the lawn and silently followed his aunt back into her house, his furious gaze piercing her back as she shuffled towards the kitchen. He allowed himself a quick look into the house, and found it similar to the home at Privet Drive. Harry gave a quick derisive shake of his head; the Dursleys were given a clean start to change their lives, and chose to remain the same, when obviously Vernon at the very least had not wanted the same.

Petunia had poured a large glass of red wine and taken a long pull before refilling it and collapsing into a chaise lounge. Her body seemed to disappear into the chair and Harry couldn't help but notice how frail his aunt had become. Harry's anger ebbed as he watched his aunt's face fall into her hands and began sobbing. Her proper hat bobbing in rhythm with her body's heaving, he was struck by how routine this scene was. How often had Petunia resorted to this naked weeping? Certainly never around me ... she had to know about Vernon.

But truthfully part of him secretly hoped that her suffering was due to his absence and destiny, and he hated that want, that need to be loved by even his abusers. His heart's betrayal desperate for that acknowledgement reinforced his self-loathing. Even after everything … it enraged him with how unfair and twisted it was.

All of that conscious thought evaporated as his aunt carefully placed her hat on a table and gingerly dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Harry barely had time to notice the almost resigned steel in her eyes, to carry on with her day like a good wife, before his eyes traveled across her face and time hurtled to a stop.

He didn't know what he noticed first, the split lip, the heavy bruising around her jaw, or the darkened fingerprints around her neck, but what Harry remembered most were his aunt's eyes, one blackened and slightly swollen, the other clear and haunted. They widened in shock and abject fear as Harry unconsciously pulled off his cloak and regarded his adopted mother.

A/N: Sorry to end there, but the pacing of the next few scenes do not fit well within this chapter, and it seems I have a gift for ending on cliffhangers.