A/N: Chapter 2, still all characters belong to the talented JK Rowling, Instructive critics only! :)

"Kreacher! I'm going out to a muggle pub. If anyone else comes by tell them what you told Hermione. Hopefully they'll accept it like she did." He said as he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack.

"Yes Master." He nodded then apparated out of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry ended up in a small alley way somewhere in the middle of London. As he walked down the street he felt as though someone was watching him. He shook off the feeling as he reached the pub. Maybe some random witch or wizard who happens to be in muggle London, he thought to himself, yet what's the chance of that. He entered the pub and sat down at the bar.

"Hello what can I do for you?" asked the pudgy, brown haired bartender.

"Anything that's strong and can get you to stop feeling like garbage."

"Alright, just one minute." The bartender replied, turning around to find the perfect booze. In about two minutes the bartender returned with Harry's drink. Harry drank it down in a few large gulps and asked for a second one. Then again and again and again, booze kept disappearing and glasses kept getting refilled. Soon enough, Harry was just flat out drunk with all his feeling gone. Harry left the pub and walked down the street. The night sky was lighter than it had been when Voldemort was alive. Thank goodness. And the commoners on the street seemed more relaxed than before. Which wasn't a bad thing and made him feel even more at ease.

Right when Harry was about to turn down the alley way he apparated from just two hours ago, a bright red sign caught his vision. The words spelled out 'CONVIENIENCE STORE'. And before Harry knew it, he was in the store looking around. As he walked around the store nothing special caught his eye. Until he reached the counter. Behind the counter were different brands of cigarettes. Ones with bright red letters, ones with yellow packages, and more. Without thinking of the consequences Harry bought one. He didn't care what brand, he just needed something to take his pain away. He gave the cashier a subtle nod then returned to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The next day he woke up with an excruciating pain in his head. Then soon the memories of the pub and the store arrived. If this is how every morning was going to feel than maybe he should cut down. Yet when he was drunk he felt nothing so maybe the morning was worth it. As he walked down the stairwell, he remembered the small package of cigarettes he bought just last night. Maybe they'll take the pain away. He reached the kitchen where Kreacher was preparing breakfast and tea. His eyes traveled across the room to the small package sitting on the table. Worth a try he thought to himself as he grabbed the package and made his way out to the back porch.

He quickly opened the package and took one out. He knew how to smoke. He saw his Uncle Vernon do it all the time when he was younger. He lit the cigarette with his wand and started to smoke. Every puff became better than the last. Until a bright white light flashed before his eyes. It only lasted a second but he knew it happened. He looked around and saw nothing. Just the normal outside that anyone else would see. It must have been nothing. The day went relatively fast; he smoked the last of the pack, he went to sleep only being disturbed for meals, then returned to the pub and got drunk again. After he came home he started up the stairs to go to bed. Yet when he laid there in his bed something kept distracting him. It was a brown book that sat on top of his dresser. Harry got up and made his way towards it. When he opened the book he saw a picture of him. It wasn't just a picture, it was a picture of him with two people. The very same people he was avoiding, Ron and Hermione. They were there. Standing next to him. Laughing with him, he looked happy. The picture was taken at the end of his first year. He was so young, so innocent and so unaware of what he was going to do in his future. Harry slammed the book closed with disgust. If that little boy saw who he was now, a drunken prat, what would he do? It didn't matter to him any more. The path he chose was the path he chose. He was in a hole and digging himself in deeper. And there was nothing he could do about it.

The next morning Harry woke up with yet, another hangover. But he didn't care, because he had bought another pack of cigarettes and was planning on repeating everything he did yesterday. Once he made it downstairs and in the kitchen, he noticed the Daily Prophet on the table. This time something felt wrong about it.


Drowning in Excitement or Guilt?

We all know about what happened a little under a week ago. The Chosen One vanquished the Dark Lord. Yet is he celebrating? Little does young Harry Potter know, we have reporters watching him everywhere he goes. "Yesterday I found Harry Potter in muggle London, walking the streets alone. I decided something juicy must be happening in his life right now," reported a new rookie reporter, "As I followed him down the street, I notice there was something rather odd about his behavior and appearance. He looked not put together and seemed very down. His shoulders were slumped and he was wearing a very unreadable expression. Then he arrived at a little pub. I went in after him, of course, to see what he was going to be doing in there. He sat himself at the bar and ordered a drink. Yet he didn't have a name of what he wanted but, a description. 'Something strong and stops you from feeling like garbage.' Is what he ordered. Many will think he ordered just one. But I counted around eleven drinks were sold to him. After that he left the pub and entered a little drug store at the end of the street. And again I went in after him. He bought one pack of cigarettes (something to smoke with) and returned home." With this report in we waited around young Potter's house to see if we can find out why he bought those specific items. At around twelve pm, Harry Pottercame out onto his back porch. He smoked the entire pack of cigarettes! He seemed a little depressed and moody so we took a quick picture and left. Picture attached above. So is the Savior of The Wizarding World happy or depressed? You judge. More reports soon.


He wondered his eyes up the paper to see the alleged photo of him smoking. And there he was leaning over his back porch railing smoking his cigarette. Now I got another reason that the Weasleys will be on my backside, he thought to himself.