What’s the story, Morning Glory?

When you first wake up, do you ever just sit there, breathe deep, and feel the rest of your body come alive? That creeping feeling in your toes, the slight tingle in your back, which itches because of softener used on your sheets.

That is the single most awe inspiring feeling that one can have, and it only occurs once throughout the day, right as you are waking up.  

Then, as you become fully aware, the weight of the rest of the world catches up with you, and forces you down. That teasing, fleeting feeling from before is gone, and is replaced. You realize that your world really is not what it’s cracked up to be. You come back to your identity, your center, who you are, and you realize. You don't want to be this person anymore. Your mind glances back to that fleeting feeling of serenity that you felt before, and you realize that you want more of it.

You're Harry Potter. You just woke up, three weeks after your fifth year just let out, and you realize that you have a job to do. Shit.

--

When Harry first opened his eyes, everything in his room was in soft focus on account of his glasses being on the bedside table. The dark curtains cast a murky glow on the room, with the light escaping around their muted edges hitting his pupils, making them contract and ache. Leaning over his bedside, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Harry put on his glasses. The sudden shift from soft to sharp, again, makes his eyes jolt. Opening the drawer of his bedside, Harry reached in and pulls out a pack of clear, fragile wafers, contained in a small neat paper envelope.

Harry opened his eyes and took in the room around him. The light was muted due to the dark curtains that covered his windows. Light escaped from around the edges, stray beams of light hit him in the eyes, which caused his pupils to expand and contract and twinge in pain. Harry winced, yawned a bit, and leaned over to his bedside table, took his glasses from their resting place, and put them on his face. The shift from soft to light focus caused more pain to his eyes.

Harry then opened his bedside cabinet and took out a neat folded packet. Within in the packet rested opaque wafers that caused Harry to smile. Soon he would have that amazing feeling from before.

Taking a deep breath, Harry places one of the wafers under his tongue. They have to dissolve a bit before they take effect. So, with the dissolving wafer now dissolving under his tongue, Harry gets up and heads for the shower.

Underneath the scalding, beating heat of the shower, Harry thinks back to his previous year at Hogwarts.

"I was such a mess," he thought, "How could I have let Voldemort get to me like that?" His swirling thoughts edged away from that track, consumed by a citrus scent.

The scent of his shampoo seemed sharper this morning, like it had the past few mornings, clearing his sinuses as he breathed it in with the steam of the shower. It was some tangy citrus smell that Aunt Petunia had picked up at the market. He'd have to comment to her later how much he liked it. Although, she might freak if she knew he was using her special bathroom supplies. The bathroom was dark as he finished up his shower. The tangy scent of the shampoo still clouded his nostrils and mind. It was intoxicating really. He laughed a bit as he wrapped a towel around his waist, and pushed the switch that turned the lights on around the vanity. The large mirror surrounded by the lights reflected a muted image of him, clouded up by the steam. Swiping his hand across the glass in a quick fashion, his image was revealed. His visual perception, while sharp with the aid of his glasses, seemed warped this morning. No doubt as a direct result of the hallucinogen still dissolving under his tongue.

Feelings seemed to emanate from his face out, a numbing sensation, pulsing. It was amazing, it was wonderful, it was-- he couldn't give it further thought. His face now composed of a shit eating smile. Today really would be a good day.

His short walk back to his room seemed different. The carpet under his feet was rugged and made the soles of his feet itch. The paint on the walls seemed to shine more than usual, and his doorway seemed to lead to another place. Once he was in his room, everything was still the same, but just more interesting.

While putting his clothes on, he was caught in a flashback.

He was sitting on the train home, Ron and Hermione both sitting opposite of him while he peered at them over the top of his potions book. It was a front really, he only had the book out because he didn't want to talk to anyone. His mind was full of thoughts about Sirius, about Dumbledore, and now about the Prophecy. He could see now why Dumbledore had waited so long. It wouldn't do to shell shock a young child with what surmounted in a do-or-die formula.

The book was a Potions text, it was a bad cover really, for what its purpose was, and the look on Hermione's face seemed to tell him as much. Ron couldn't have cared anymore than usual. He was wrapped up in his own talk of quidditch, as usual, to anyone that would listen, and right now that seemed to be the silent compartment in which the three sat.

His eyes were wandering over the text, just to keep up with appearances and to avoid the semi-glare that Hermione was shooting at him now, while Ron kept rattling on about the Cannons, and just like that, he found something interesting. Shifting a bit in his seat, and adjusting the book so he could read better by the light of the evening sun, Harry read about the seeds of a plant that was discovered when the Spanish ran upon South American tribes during their conquest. Apparently, the few wizards that survived that time reported that the seeds were used by the tribes’ healers.

Further chemical analysis by a Potions master proved that there were hallucinogenic qualities to the seeds once ingested.

The text went on further to describe that those who went under the influence, they experienced moments of euphoria and delirium. It was still in use in modern times, by people around the world now, because it was an additive to a splinching potion. The effects aided in easing the pain that people underwent from having their body parts removed, and all together made the reattachment process a bit more enjoyable. The plant that the seeds came from was pretty common, most people had it in their gardens, and it wasn't like it was exclusive to just wizards. Muggles used it too. Effects were said to last 8 to 12 hours, depending on the concentration and dosage.

"This is what I need," thought Harry, “an escape.”

An escape, that's what he got.

--

He had chores to do today. Uncle Vernon had given him a list he had to complete by the time he got back from work, the first morning back from Hogwarts. And other than that bit of noise then Harry hadn't spoken to his relatives at all since he'd came back. He'd been enjoying his days of quiet. It seemed that the less he talked to them, the fewer problems they caused for him. That, and Dudley was still on his boxing kick, which kept him out of the house for most of the day, so Harry was free to pretty much go about his business in peace.

Harry made his way over to the tool shed to get out the things he needed to tend the garden. It seemed that Aunt Petunia had let the garden get over ran with weeds in his absence. It was almost like she didn't enjoy having a garden, because she liked tending it. But, rather, she liked to reap the benefits of someone else's labor.

All the hens gathered in the house on Sundays for their tea. Aunt Petunia had started doing that as a means to get further into the gossip circles around the lot. It seemed that rubber necking from behind her shades just wasn't enough anymore.

The sun outside was bright. The light was shooting down between the branches of the tree in the garden, and hitting him directly in the eyes. It didn't hurt as much as it did when he'd woken up, but it still spasmed. The potions text had forgotten to mention how the eyes became sensitive to light. At first he'd been intrigued about that, but as he'd stared at himself in the mirror, he'd noticed that his pupils seemed to dilate, even under standard light.

He made a mental note to get some sunglasses later so as to avoid that problem in the future.

While he tended the garden, the smells of nature tickled at his nose. The sharp odor of the compost heap mixed in with the cold smell of the early morning. There were little to no clouds in the sky at the moment, and the few that were there, were involved in a slow dance, compliments of the Earths' rotation.

The rich smell of the earth that came up with the pulled weeds assaulted his nose, while at the same time sending a fine dust cloud up into the air to agitate his nose. His eyes were caught by a young tree, its veined bark and pulsing presence bringing him in. Light seemed to be gathered around it. You could tell that it was soaking it up, living, and surviving. Its limbs were thin and the leaves upon it were all bright and green with life. The breeze blowing about caught the top of it, and it seemed to Harry that the tree was waving at him, so, he gave it a small wave back. He couldn't offend it by not waving back, when it clearly had greeted him. The other living things around it, the bird’s nests, and the narrow shoots of grass all seemed to draw in the light, even the light that seemed to come from himself, and Harry knew this was good.

He didn't really know how he knew this, it was more of a feeling, than anything else, and he paid it no mind that that. Everything was alive, so why should he complain?

So far, everything had gone well. His Aunt Petunia hadn't spoken one word to him since he'd started work, and even this morning on his way outside, he hadn't seen anyone in the house.

He'd gone outside without paying attention to see if the Dursleys were making their usual noise around the dining room table, he figured that meant everyone was gone already. To where, well, who cared? He sure didn't.

Harry went back to work on the garden.

-

After several hours, it was now mid-afternoon, and everything around Harry had grown more intense. The colors, the sights, the smells. Everything. This was his favorite part. As the concentrated drug was released into his system, via the wafer he'd placed under his tongue earlier, things would get more warped, and everything around him would grow shaper or softer, depending on his focus.

What was even more surprising was that last year, Voldemort had been active and mucking about with his head, but now, he hadn't even felt a twinge from his scar -- not even when sleeping.

Harry couldn't help but sigh about that. Why couldn't he have been this quiet last year? Maybe then things wouldn't have progressed as far south as they had already.

Coming out of his thoughts he remembered that he needed to paint the fence around the property. Vernon had made sure to point out on the list that he wanted that done the most. That is, if the exclamation points and verbal threats on the paper were anything to go by.

Walking towards the shed to get the paint and brushes, he spoke quietly to himself. "Busy, busy, busy said the Bee." He laughed a bit at that, the buzzing sound of the word "Busy" making him think of how a Bee would speak.

--

He'd been just about to strike wet paint on dry wood plank when suddenly he heard his name being called from behind.

Turning around with brush in hand, paint dripping down the handle, and a half smile on his glazed eyes, not really understanding who it was that had called his name, Harry asked, "Yes?"

"Harry, it’s me... Remus,” said Remus, stuttering a bit on his name, the smile on Harry's face caught him off guard, but he didn't let that stop him. "I've come to check up on you. Hermione has been owling me daily telling me to come out here--" he paused again. Harry had turned around and started painting the fence.

Remus was near him now, so he took Harry by the shoulder to turn him around. When he turned around, that same goofy smile was on his face. Remus wondered what was so funny, self consciously rubbing the corners of his mouth just in case some of his breakfast had become lodged there.

Harry's eyes blinked, and then it was like a switch was turned on in his brain.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, "When'd you get here?"

"I didn't even hear you come up." He continued on, idly flicking the paint brush and watching the few escaping splatters hit the grass below.

This seemed to startle Remus, he couldn't figure out why, it wasn't like he'd yelled at him or anything, he'd just shown his surprise.

"You turned around on me," said Remus.

Puzzled, Harry asked, "When?"

"Just now," continued Remus, “I called your name, and you turned around, and I started talking to you, and you turned back around like you hadn't even seen me..." He paused, "But, I know that you knew I was there, you even responded to me calling to you-- Is something the matter Harry? You don't seem like you're all there."

Laughing a bit, Harry said, "Nothing is wrong Remus, in fact, everything is fine.”

"Perfect," he said under his breath.

"I guess I was just caught up in my painting." He said, pointing at the dry, untouched fence planks. "Why don't you keep telling me what you were saying earlier?"

Still a bit put off by Harry's strange behavior, Remus tried to remember what he was talking about before Harry had turned around. “Yes... uh... right. So, like I was saying, Hermione has been owling me daily to tell me to come check on you. She seems to think you've fallen into some kind of funk--"

"A funk?" Said, Harry, cutting him off.

"Yes, a funk," said Remus. "I guess not responding to her letters will do that, don't you think?"

"She shouldn't worry," said Harry with a shrug, "I'm fine, really c Just been occupied lately..." He tapered off, again looking at the paint coming off of his paintbrush.

If Remus noticed he didn't mention it. "Yes, well, I got clearance from Dumbledore to take you to Diagon Alley today, he gave me your book list and Owl scores early, as well as Hermione's and the Weasleys’ and they all want to meet up with you after you get your supplies. Also, if there's time for you and your friends to get some Ice cream, I don't think anyone would mind.”

Harry, who had by this time become very involved in watching the paint fly from the brush as he flicked it from coming down the handle, gave a non-committal shrug. "Sure, Remus, this fence can wait until later, anyways, not like it’s important."

His eyes still on the paintbrush, he picked up the can and the rest of his supplies and carried them back to the shed with Remus following closely behind.

Once the tools were up, Harry headed towards the back door to Number 4, "Let me get changed and we can go," Harry said over his shoulder to Remus, opening the door and leaving it open. No need to be overly cordial. Remus could close the door himself when he came into the house, and it wasn't like he needed a verbal invitation.

--

Just as soon as Harry was changed, both he and Remus were en route to Mrs. Figg's house. Harry heard Remus explaining that she had a secure floo connection set up from her place to The Leaky Cauldron, courtesy of Dumbledore.

Harry didn't care about that though. He was caught up in watching the birds fly from tree to tree, and the different smells that were coming from the different lawns, and the play of lights on the finishes of the rest of the neighborhoods houses.

"The Dursleys' house is white,” he thought, "It certainly reflects their attitude about life. Why couldn't they be like Mr. and Mrs. Atticus from Number Six?" Their house was blue."They're such nice people. Always waved at me when I was walking about." The pale eggshell blue of their house seemed to rub his eyes in a soothing manner.

He sighed a bit.

"Blue is a nice color..."

--

Grabbing some powder from Mrs. Figg's floo pot, Harry got in line behind Remus.

"When we get there Harry, everyone will be sitting in a seat in the corner, so it shouldn't be hard to miss us." After that, he threw in his powder and called out "The Leaky Cauldron!" Remus vanished in a flare of emerald flames.

His sudden disappearance startled Harry for as long as it took him to throw his own powder into the fire and call out his destination.

The swirling flames came up around Harry, blinding him in their brilliance. He was whisked away, catching quick glances of other people's fireplaces, and a small image of what was going on inside. Here, within the floo network, where chaos seemed to reign, Harry had control. He didn't experience the usual nauseating swirl that accompanied a trip through the floo, but rather everything moved in slow motion.

His eyes passed one house of an old couple dancing in front of the fireplace, and in the other, of two young children playing with what appeared to be animated toys.

And like with the outside, light had pervaded everything. It was sweeping into the other people’s houses, making trails from one house to another, the interplay between the different paths confusing, but retaining beauty that only mystery could provoke.

And then... Everything seemed to speed up a bit. And Harry was turned around, and flung head long through the fireplace of The Leaky Cauldron. He could see Remus waiting just outside the grate for him.

In a flurry of motion, Harry burst out of the flames, stumbled a bit, and threw his arms out for balance. That had been the most exhilarating thing he'd done since school let out, and his heart pounded a bit. There was a large than usual smile on his face, which Remus asked about.

"What are you smiling for Harry?"

"I wish I could ride the floo more often, Remus. That was amazing... really."

"But I thought you hated the --" Harry cut him off, "Normally, I do, there was just something different about –“ He stopped, and continued with a question. "Have you ever paid any attention to the other fireplaces in there? When you're flashing by them? It’s amazing.

Remus was intrigued by Harry's new sense of happiness. Last year he'd been so brooding, and scathing with everyone. He had expected everything to have grown worse since the death of Sirius, and he even expected to have to give Harry the "It’s not your fault," talk. The fact that he didn't both relieved and worried Remus.

Seeing that Harry was actually expecting an answer, Remus gives a half shrug and a short reply, "I usually keep my eyes closed. I can't stand the spinning." Remus looked expectantly into the corners of the room before letting out a small, "Aha," spotting the others already waiting for them there.

"Let’s go Harry," he said over his shoulder, already walking towards them.

Harry followed, but as he did he took in the few people that were present. The Leaky Cauldron seemed almost empty, in comparison to years past. Not even the hag, who he'd found out came everyday at around this time, wasn't here, and that was unusual. She really did like her liver. She also went so far as to say that Tom had the best service. Rather strange considering that hags usually don't speak, much less have a conversation about their eating habits.

Tut tutting under his breath, Harry turned his attention to Remus and the others in the corner all staring expectantly at him. It suddenly struck him as a bright idea to screw around with them. It looked like Hermione had been coaching everyone in the, 'I Understand' face, because everyone was pulling it off to a fault. Well, except for Luna and her father, who looked like they were having a rather jovial conversation about something.

Making his mind up on what he was going to do, Harry fought the grin off his face, which was no small feat, because everything, including what he was about to do, had given him reason to smile. With his grin sufficiently stifled, he walked up to everyone, scuffed his shoes and kept his head downcast.

Right when Mrs. Weasley was about to do her usual smothering routine, Harry let out a large scream.

"Everyone hit the deck! Spell fire coming towards the window!" said Harry, miming a ducking motion.

There was a brief pause, everyone seemed to tense, and then they all sprung into a flurry of motion and sound. Tables were turned into possible shields, people got below window level, and everyone sitting at the table Harry was standing beside fell to the floor, looks of panic on what had previously been concerned faces.

Harry couldn't help it. While it had been a rather silly and childish thing to do, he just couldn't take the dour mood longer. He needed something more to laugh at, and he got it.

He quickly put everyone’s panicked expressions into a memory vault in his head for possible laughing material later, and let loose his own roaring laugh.

Those witnessing his laughter really thought he'd cracked. The expected spell fire hadn't come and Harry Potter was laughing his head off.

Everyone was understandably confused. The Lovegood's took everything in stride, already they were righting their table and sipping at their butterbeers, which they had kept in their hands, and it looked like they'd started conversing about whatever it was when he'd came upon the table.

The few people that were in the bar had already cleared out into Diagon Alley to sound the alarm, and were coming back with other people to see what damage had been done to the bar.

There were calls of, "Where's the attack," but what had everyone's attention the most was the still laughing Boy-Who-Lived.

Just standing there, laughing.

He wanted to stop really, but, he just couldn't. Everyone’s reactions, good and bad, along with his status at the moment made everything just that much funnier, and just when he had almost convinced himself that it really wasn't all that funny, he would just keep laughing.

A bonus was that the room was full of the light that he'd been noticing all day. It was a new occurrence in his newly developed habit. And anytime before, when he'd taken the drug, he'd not really noticed anything other than sharper senses on the most inane things. The extra flutter of a bird’s wing, the smells of everything magnified tenfold.

The light though, it was everywhere, just like in the floo, and just like it was outside. It was seeping into his pores, consuming him from the inside. Harry felt giddy.

His laughing came to an abrupt stop when Luna called out, "Have the Nargles gotten you Harry?"

Harry seemed to think about that for a moment, and then, with his smile back in place, he said, "Indeed they have, Luna. They're really not all that bad you know, they just want a bit of conversation."

"But they're so grouchy all the time," said Luna, "It really makes it hard to talk to them. Well, that and the whole mind control aspect..." She stopped speaking, twirling her hair around her wand, and looking at Harry with star struck eyes. No one had ever really debated Nargles with her before. “How exciting,” she thought.

"Of course they're grouchy.” said Harry, “They dislike people loitering under their mistletoe. Especially those who kiss. Nargles don't like their sensibilities affronted by people fornicating under their homes... but that’s neither here nor there... Aren't we supposed to go shopping today?" This was said to the group at large. Not everyone had gotten over his laughing spell, yet, and everyone else was just now closing their mouths, which had gaped during Harry and Luna's conversation.

Harry didn't pay too much attention to the rest of the occupants in the room. They each seemed to be developing looks of rage and distaste at the joke Harry had played, and it even looked like one of them was about to say something to the boy-who-lived, when they were quickly silenced.

Out of the rest of the group, Hermione was the first to recover. Upon first glance of Harry, she knew there was something off, but she couldn't quite place it at first, but now that she was closer to him, and could see everything for what it really was, she could hardly contain her outrage.

"Harry," she said,” A word please."

"Octagon." said Harry.

"Harr--” she stopped, "What?"

"You did just ask for a word didn't you? I gave you one. Octagon." said Harry with a smug look on his face.

"No, Harry," said an exasperated Hermione. I meant a word as in a private conversation. "Oh, sure," said Harry, "What’s this all about?"

Secluded from the adults and anyone else that might pry, Hermione asked the question she already knew the answer to. "Are you high, Harry?"

Harry laughed, "What would give you that idea, Hermione? Honestly, do I seem high to you?

"Harry," Hermione said, and from her tone she wasn't taking any nonsense, "Your eyes are dilated, you're laughing like a loon, and you have little control of your situation. Right now you're not even looking at me..." she snapped her fingers in his face to snap him back to her attention. "See, you're just proving my point. You're on something."

Knowing what would get him out of Hermione's dog house, Harry gave her a weak look, and said, “So, what if I am? It’s better than being sad all the time. At least this way, I’m not bringing everyone down.”

Having successfully stymied anything else Hermione might say, Harry again addressed the group at large, so, Are we gonna sit here and hold hands all day, or are we going to shop?”

“Here, here,” said Luna and her Father, both getting up and following Harry to the entrance of Diagon Alley, which remained open from the flood of people coming to check out what had happened in the Cauldron.

Remus and the Weasleys along with Hermione all followed behind Harry in a daze. They didn't know what to really expect from Harry. It honestly wasn't what they had been expecting to start with.

Up front, Harry smiled and thought, “At least they're not bugging me with questions. Well, not as many as I expected...” His thoughts paused when he spotted something that he'd been wanting since the middle of last week when the sun had started hurting his eyes. There on a rack, outside a magical eye shop was a rack of sunglasses.

He thought it funny, really, and when he'd asked the nice lady behind the counter for a pair of large black ones with frames that covered a large part of his face, she had explained why she had them.

“We have them for muggleborns, mainly. You just don't see any pure blooded wizard buying something that a muggle would wear. It hasn't quite caught on amongst their ranks.”

“These are nice, Harry commented, with them on. “They adjust for my eyesight too. Interesting spell work.”

“Yes, yes, the wonders of magic, eh?” laughed the shopkeeper.

“I'll take them,” said Harry, pulling out the required amount of money.

He walked out to the waiting crowd, and asked Remus, “So, where to?”

Remus laid out a pretty quick plan that involved little to no detours. First, they needed to go to Gringotts to make a withdrawal, and then they needed to head to the book shops and potion supply market.

–

Their business went by without much of a fuss, the Goblins had treated Harry's new accessory with the causal paranoia that came with people who worked with money all day. They'd asked him to remove them, and he said that he would once they made it to the lower parts of the tunnels. The lights in the foyer hurt his eyes.

A funny occurrence was that, when they'd asked him to take his glasses off, one goblin had given him a sharp toothed grin, gesturing towards his own mud colored eyes, whose pupils were large.

Harry winked a bit before putting his glasses back on, and they went about their business down in vaults.

The ride down had been just as amazing to Harry as the floo trip to the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed that even down here in the depths of London, the light still existed.

Harry had stood in the cart, his arms out wide, letting the breeze pass over him with his head thrown back, much to the dismay of everyone in the cart with him. He didn't care though, it was great. The rush of the air on his skin, the thrill that he felt because of the danger associated with going around sharp curves with no restraints.

The Goblin steering seemed to enjoy his little stunt, because you could hear him letting out a wheezing laugh, while telling the others that Harry would be alright.

Before leaving, the Goblin that had Harry had met before going down into the vaults slipped Harry a card through a handshake. Harry had mind enough to slip it into his pocket before anyone noticed.

After that, things moved in fast motion. Money was gotten from everyone's vaults, and then there was the ride back up.

After they left Gringotts, they all went to the bookshop, where they bought their things needed for the year. Since everything was being done early, none of their other school mates were out shopping, so it came as a surprise when they finally made it done shopping, and were on their way to get some ice-cream from Fortescue's when Cho Chang came out of a shop that sold specialty quills. She wasn't going to talk to him, she'd made up her mind to just ignore him as he walked past, but something made her call out.

Harry and his group had already walked by her when she called out his name.

Of course, Harry turned around and responded with a “yes” while everyone else was looking around and checking for attackers.

Seeing that it was Cho, Harry said, “So, you and your Grandmother are here for early shopping as well, I see. Smart thinking really, ‘cause you can avoid all the crowds and get the prime ingredients from the Apothecary.

He stopped speaking once he saw the look on Cho's face, thinking to himself, “Oh, damn, what did I say to her wrong this time?” Because at that moment, her face was twisting into one of anguish.

“... Why would you say that, Harry? My grandmother died last week. Didn't you read about it in the Prophet?”

Watching her choke back tears, Harry said, “Dead?” I didn't know she was dead, and she's standing right behind you!”

This seemed to be all that she could take, and so Cho fled from him, because she ran away head down and crying.

Everyone seemed to get onto his case right after that, asking him why he was being so mean to her and all he could say was what he'd said to Cho, He'd seen her grandmother. She'd been right behind her, and when Harry had made eye contact with her, she had even smiled at him.

Shrugging to himself mentally, Harry cracked it up to being stoned, its not like others being upset with him bothered him.

Right after that, they'd all gone back to the Leaky Cauldron, all the female occupants shooting him a sharp look, except for Luna who still had that lovelorn expression from earlier, who gave him puppy eyes every time he looked in her direction.

Harry had talked to her more than he had with everyone else, on the various creatures that fascinated her, she didn't mind that he was high at all either. She liked Harry this way, it was better than the crabby bastard he'd been last year, so this was a plus.

After everyone had flooed back to their homes, Remus had remained and said that he'd check in on Harry again next week, just to see how he was doing, and he told Harry to start writing his friends more, because they were worried. Especially now since the entire time they had spent shopping, Harry had ignored everyone save for Luna. He also said that he couldn't come back with Harry because he needed meet up with the rest of the Order.

Apparently they needed to find a new place of residence after the Malfoy's had assumed ownership after Sirius's death. Harry had thought that Remus was going to talk to him about Sirius. He also figured that since he hadn't brought him up, Remus wasn't going to either, even though it was obvious he wanted to.

Remus vanished in the same emerald flare he'd arrived in, and that left just Harry standing here.

Had he cared more, he would have been curious as to why they hadn't been so uptight about security, when just last year he'd been escorted by a full force of wizards. He shrugged that off too, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, he was sure he'd find out about it later. He usually always did.

–

Harry was now back at Number Four, the Dursleys had been home when he'd arrived back. He didn't get a single remark from Uncle Vernon for the fence not being painted, and Dudley still hadn't come home from his boxing practice. They had been in the living room watching some television show when he'd walked by the door.

He made it back up to his bedroom, and had taken off his sunglasses and rested them along with his normal glasses on the bedside, took of his shoes, and stretched out on his same ratty mattress from before.

Today had been unexpected. Going to Diagon Alley, seeing those people, and then all the feelings that were associated with it had pretty much overwhelmed him.

His high, which had been going pretty much all day, was wearing off and he was starting to feel tired. The narrow focus he had from earlier seemed to be softening along with his actual focus on the world around him.

He let a small yawn escape him as he closed his eyes from the swirling shapes that he could make out in the ceiling spackle. He'd devote time tomorrow to looking at them.

It was late afternoon and Harry was reaching the favorite part of his day again. His body parts shut down bit by bit, his feet and legs first, and then his hands and arms, and then finally, the darkness around his closed eyes seemed to grow even darker as his mind entered oblivion.

Today had been a good day for Harry Potter, because it was the same as the day before, and tomorrow, he knew, would be the same as today.