A/N: Since I've lost much of the original motivation I had to write this story, I'm sorry to say that these next few chapters may not be of the best quality. Please forgive me, especially since these next few chapters will be this story's last.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The town that the two men lived in was a strange little thing. Magical creatures inhabited every other household, but no one seemed to care. Magic was freely used and people used it to do the silliest little things, like entertaining the urchins on the streets or creating copies of another person and then using them in a short skit.
Although there was magic on every street corner (and Harry couldn't deny that there was any shortage of street corners), the town seemed to move in slow motion. Days stretched on for much more than twenty four hours and no one every seemed motivated to do anything. Food could always be bought later on; chores could always be completed four hours after they had been assigned. There were no office buildings or banks, just the commonplace trading of items and gardens that flourished in people's yards.
It was nothing like any town Harry had encountered before. The Muggle cities always moved too fast, with their cars and their constant demand for money and fame. The Wizarding World was always frantic over the next Dark Lord and their precious children.
In short, Harry was thoroughly confused.
No one seemed to be able to see him. Everyone appeared as if they had just taken a shower; even the urchins had clean clothes and hands. A dirty man such as himself should have stuck out like a sore thumb- there was no reason he was being ignored.
Perhaps it had something to do with the town's strange sort of magic, but maybe it was just the fact that Harry appeared too undesirable to associate with. Who know? Harry didn't.
It was surprising that no one even noticed when he ran into them or when he stole their plates from underneath their noses. They would fall backwards or wonder where their food went, but never turned their attention towards Harry. He would have understood their blatant ignorance of his existence if he was wearing his invisibility cloak, but that was still lost in a desert far away.
Invisibility noted, Harry went on with his life, jumping from garden to alley, where he would sleep for the night and then emerge from to find some food for the day.
One sunny afternoon, when Harry was huddled away in the corner of the pink haired man's garden, the family had rushed out of their home and left the door open. Harry had always liked watching the pink haired man's antics and had vowed not to take advantage of him, but it was so tempting to just go inside. It was sweltering out and not even the shade of the plants helped Harry cool down; he wanted something cool, right away.
Harry bolted inside, leaving small, muddy footprints on the ground. He had never managed to find enough water to clean himself off; he didn't want to break into someone's bathroom and cleanse himself. But in the last month, Harry's mind had become focused purely on survival. It had slowly devolved from a respectful entity into a single minded beast which didn't care about the needs of others. It was Harry that was important and Harry alone.
Harry collapsed to the hardwood floor with a satisfied groan. He lay there for a while before getting back up and figuring out what his next plan of action was.
Bath, the selfish part of his brain demanded.
Out, the other half argued.
Bath.
Out.
Bath.
Out.
Bath.
Bath, Harry thought and reasonable Harry gave up.
With a huff of annoyance, Harry pulled himself off the floor and opened the first door he laid eyes on. There was a small sitting room with two large windows overlooking the garden. Harry could see the small ditch where he slept last night and his muddy footprints leading to the door from the garden. Of course this wasn't the restroom.
He opened door number two, which was right across the hallway from door number one. A glorious bathtub beckoned him from inside.
Harry walked in, slowly shut the door behind himself, and stripped down. The caked dirt on his clothes made it a difficult task to undress. It kept turning into dust and Harry kept breathing that dust in. The mirror that so innocently hung on the wall was attacked by dust. The sink turned into a miniature mud bath. Everything in the room became dirty, and Harry didn't care one bit.
The more dirt in the room, the less on him.
The pain slowly melted away as he washed the grit out of every pore of his body. He never thought it would leave; it had become a certainty of Harry's life. It wasn't logical, but magic never was. That was one thing Harry also knew as a truth.
Harry moved from limb to torso to neck to limb, leaving his arms for last. They were the least painful; least painful goes last. Simple logic.
He moved down his arm, starting at his shoulder and slowly lathering that up before sliding downwards towards the ground.
A small piece of shimmering cloth was embedded in his arm.
Harry could do nothing but faint.