None of his alarms went off.

He didn't set them. Instead, he woke up to the delicious scent of sizzling bacon.

Someone was in his house. Harry bolted up out of bed in alarm. Grabbing his wand and glasses, he practically flew downstairs, jumping steps three at a time, weapon ready, although enemies probably weren't cooking him breakfast.

"Master Harry, breakfast will be a little late." Kreacher was in the kitchen wearing a fresh hand towel and overseeing several pans making what promised to be an elaborate feast.

"Kreacher! What are you doing here?" Harry tried to get his heart rate to steady but it wouldn't. Now he felt exhausted and like he was having a stroke.

"What do you mean, Master Harry? Today you are going to Hogwarts. You must have breakfast."

I'm not going. "It's… it's already noon. I missed the train."

"You can Disapparate to Hogsmeade. No need to take the train. Would Master Harry like orange juice or tea?"

"Uhhh… orange juice…" he decided, leaning up against the wall, sliding down a few inches. On the kitchen table, he noticed all his new books were bought for him, laying bright and new- a glowing reminder of his obligations and promises. Kreacher was at Hogwarts. McGonagall must have sent him when word got out he missed the train.

Finally looking around the room, everything looked spotless. Even the hall was clear.

"Would Master Harry like to pack? Breakfast is not quite ready."

"Oh… right…"

He trudged back upstairs but did not pack. Piles of clothes and fresh rubbish stared back at him. He sat down on the bed going through a list of terrible options. He could flee. He could… just go out and explore London. Were Bill and Fleur home? Maybe he'll show up at Hogwarts tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. Classes don't start until tomorrow anyway, he'll go then, first thing in the morning. Yeah, that's what he'll do. He looked around, unsure of where any of his school things were. He'd have to summon every single one. …Where was his trunk? Did he still even have a trunk? By the time Kreacher called him for breakfast he didn't bother to find a single thing.

Breakfast was indeed impressive, he felt like he was at Hogwarts already, the food taking up the whole table. "Kreacher… thank you… but I'm …it's only me…" but he was starving and ate a bit of everything. Despite not feeling emotionally hungry, his body betrayed him and he ate and he ate, shoveling food in his mouth, not having a proper meal in days. Kreacher looked happy that his food was being devoured.

"I have washed the clothes downstairs, would you like me to do the ones in your room next? Which ones will you be taking?"

"I'm not going. I'll… I'm going tomorrow. I missed the train, I'll Disapparate tomorrow morning. First thing."

"Master must go today. Start of term is today."

"We'll go tomorrow, you and me. We'll go together," he bargained.

"That won't do, Master Harry. You must go today. And besides, it looks like I'm needed here."

"No! No, Kreacher, I'll clean, I'll do it. I'll do it today, and yeah, Hogwarts tomorrow. That's what I'll do. This is my mess, not yours."

"Master Harry needs to leave so Kreacher can clean. What would you like me to do with your letters?"

"Burn them." His response was automatic. "If you see a letter from... from anyone I know, save it, unless it's a Howler, all the rest, burn."

"As you wish, Master Harry."

After his delicious but very big breakfast he went to his room. He was going to pack... but he also felt very full. Laying down on top of his covers, he blinked up at the busty women on Sirius' walls. They were the only company he had for weeks. He skipped the last two trials altogether; McGonagall knew this was going to happen. She knew he was going to flake today. Instead of packing he closed his eyes.

When he woke up, Harry was in a tornado. Letters, trash, Prophets, and empty containers whirled around him. "What the-"

"Master Harry!" Kreacher yelled over the storm of cleaning. "It's almost time to go, your clothes are folded on the chair, if you please…"

Harry scrambled and escaped to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. He looked sunken and needed to shave again. The clothes he wore were dirty and stained from eating in bed. Sitting on the closed toilet, stunned, he made a checklist of everything he needed to do before leaving. What books did he need again? Only the new ones? And he needed to shave… perhaps cut his hair again. Trunk… did he have one in the attic? Did he need a Sneakoscope this year if no one was trying to kill him? Was anyone trying to kill him?

A large bang on the door made him jump. "Now Master Harry, I need to clean the bathroom next, five minutes, if you please." Harry stood up, unsteady, looking at his reflection. He grabbed his wand and with shaky hands managed to give himself a clean shave. Yes, that looked passable… yeah, he looked normal-ish.

He should have taken a shower but all he did was wash his hands, face, and neck in the sink with a hand towel. Another loud knock made him jump again. The small bathroom made him feel cornered.

"Master Harry, would you like tea before you go? Would you like me to pack sandwiches?"

"Uhhh… just tea, thanks."

Leaving the bathroom and walking defeated back into his room, his jaw dropped. Sirius's old room never looked cleaner. Ever. Absolutely spotless, and with an awful pang, a spare trunk was open on the floor with everything packed inside. Books, extra clothes, his cloak and school robes, including quills, parchment, and some well-chosen personal belongings like The Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak he kept under his pillow, folded, right on top.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said as the elf bustled into the room holding a tray of tea. Harry accepted the tea and was about to sit down when his trunk violently shut itself with a bang and it was whisked away downstairs. Harry barely had time to take a sip when he was pulled and pushed downstairs with tiny hands after the trunk. "Come along Master, it's almost four o' clock, you must be going now. Can't be late."

"Wait… I…. where are my … there's… I have a letter I need to send!"

"To Mr. Dudley Dursley? I have already sent it."

"How?"

"Would you like me to forward your unread friend's letters to Hogwarts?"

"No… no… I'll have already seen them by then, I think."

"Of course, Master Harry," and he was literally shoved outside the door by the weight of his trunk, having to use his wand to steady himself and the trunk on the small doorstep. "Have a great year, Master Harry, I will follow you in a few days when I'm done here," and his front door slammed in his face, Harry still holding his fresh teacup.

He stood on his doorstep with his trunk for over five minutes. The birds chirped on the grey day and the wind was a little stronger than he liked. It was cold and he just got kicked out by his own house-elf. Breathing deeply, he shrunk his trunk and Disapparated.


Hogsmeade. Apparating right at the edge of town in the trees, he was tempted to magnify his trunk and sit for a while as he figured out what to do. Resisting the urge to idle, he peaked through the trees to see if the coast was clear. He was not ready. But at this point, he would never be ready. He purposely started walking down the street in Hogsmeade, praying no one recognized him.

The atmosphere was light and people seemed cheery, perhaps for the start of term. Barely getting by two shops down the path, people started calling out to him excitedly or waving energetically. This was too much. He was able to avoid being the hero of the Wizarding world all summer and now he had to face it. Cringing, he tried to keep his eyes on the path. Three more shops down and way too many friendly yells, Harry saw The Hogs Head and ducked in, pulling out a cloak with a hood and dawning it.

The bar was crowded… he should have foreseen this. Moving towards the bar and the tall man behind the counter, he swallowed, thinking this was not an ideal meeting ether. So much had happened. He needed to say thank you for getting them into Hogwarts, acknowledge his heroics of last year, or something.

Aberforth turned around and noticed the face under the hood, shocked to see him, and even more shocked to see him looking shifty as Mundungus.

"Uhhh… I… a Butterbeer, please. Two." Aberforth stared. ...And then gave him two Butterbeers. "Thanks." Harry paid. And that was it.

He nursed his two Butterbeers and a water until night fell. Aberforth stole a glance over at him every half hour. When it was getting late and knew he could not stay another minute, Harry got up to leave.