A/N I'm going to apologize for the last chapter

A/N I'm going to apologize for the last chapter. I know it was not the greatest; it didn't have the emotion of the other chapters. However, I needed to get the story moving. I believe I have done that, however, there have been some questions and question-like comments.

Has this story been abandoned? This story has NOT been abandoned. It always takes me a while once the writer's block hits but if a story is abandoned I will put a note on it.

How will Harry and (presumably) Healer Peverell, leave Saint Mungo's? Well, you shall soon see! Read on, I don't feel like giving it away in a little note.

How does Harry know what the colors of the spells mean? This is actually a very good question. I didn't go into detail (and I'm sorry I didn't) because a) I really wanted to get the chapter out so I only read over it once and b) I can see the answer in my head. What you have to realize is that Harry has always been very magically aware. We are lead to believe that even when he was small, he cried when Voldemort came to kill his parents. This brings me to the conclusion that Harry has always been more aware than some. Next, many of us have learned that when a person looses a sense, in this case sight, they compensate with the enhancement of another sense, many times sense of sound. With Harry, it made much more sense to me that his magic would help him compensate and give him a sense of pseudo-sight. Hence the "seeing" colors. Now that the background is out of the way, I'll move on to the actual question. Harry has been alone in one room for approximately two and a half weeks. He was only unable to walk for a short time and has since begun to explore. He noticed things about the room, tingles I suppose you could say. He was curious, so he set his brain to work. It would not take long to see that locked doors had a different color than unlocked ones. In addition, Harry has learned a bit about "sense magic" in school. It is not completely unfamiliar territory. Is that a good explanation?

Yes, Dumbledore is a bit evil in this story. I thought about going in a billion different directions but I think this is one of the most probable clichés out there. Plus, my Dumbles may be a bit different. wink

WOOOOOOHOOOOOO 10,000 hits!! I would love to respond to every reviewer (as I originally planned) but by the time I do that I don't feel like writing the chapter anymore. I love you reviewers! Thank you very much for your imput

I own nothing. This will probably be an un-beta'd chapter. This chapter is quite a bit longer as I was feeling particularly guilty about not updating for so long.

Last time:

"Healer Peverell, I actually could use your help with something. It's rather important and I wouldn't ask except I fear something dreadful may happen to me if I remain here much longer.

First, I need to know something. Just whose side are you on?" he turned, awaiting her answer with open eyes.

These past few day of darkness had led him to realize that Dumbledore's path was not one of lightness. If she said light, he would ask for a portion of Sleeping Draught. If she answered dark, his answer would be much the same. But if she chose a different path, if she choose the path that was finally becoming clear to him, then he would ask for her help with something much more important.

He would ask for her allegiance.

This time…

Looking after Harry Potter is definitely a full time job. I've only been his caretaker in St. Mungo's for about a week and a half and yet I find myself constantly worried about him.

Seeing the scars on his body and hearing the pain in his voice, is it any wonder that I feel for him? He looks so fragile but through that fragility, I can see a strong, young man.

I know he cannot stand to lie in that bed all day. Madam Pomphrey told me just yesterday that he has been in her infirmary more times then she would care to count. I was told to speak of Harry's condition to no one but I will not let Dumbledore, of all people, order me around. If I were the one to care for Harry for all his school year and I was not the first to be told he was hurt…well, my hospital issued heels would be very far up someone's arse.

"So, Healer Peverell, whose side are you on?" intoned Harry's voice. A silly question if I ever heard one. Then again, the poor man's life had always been about sides. War. Him against the World.

Never again.

"I'm on the side of the innocent Harry. I guess that means I am not on Voldemort or Dumbledoor's side. I'm on yours."

Such a silly boy, how could he ever believe that I would go against him. After all, it wasn't too long ago that I was Lilly's best friend.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place

The owl tapping on the window in an irritating pattern was the first thing I was aware of as I opened my eyes. The second was the pain that accompanied a night of full moon "fun". My entire body ached as I got out of bed and hobbled to the window. The owl was of the most common color, brown. The letter, however, was what drEw my attention. Light blue, a color I had not received since the official notice of Sirius' death.


My hands trembled as I began to undo the letter from the owl. It gave me a sympathetic look. I guess it must have understood what emotions a simple color could evoke.

Mr. Remus Lupin

Unkown Location

London England

As of yet there was no indication as to who the letter was sent by. There were really only three possibilities because of who I am and who I know. The first is the ministry; they always seem to be the bearers of bad news. The third, and slightly scarier possibility, was Dumbledoor. The third, and even more terrifying, possibility was St. Mungos.

It was door number three. Really, could this day get any worse? Reading the first few line of the letter, I wondered why I had to jinx myself.

Harry was in the hospital and had lost his sight. I guess I must be in a bit of shock because my body has gone numb, there is water pouring down my face, and the letter (along with my body) has fallen to the floor.

It appears as though "the light side" failed my cub, yet again. What else is new? Every year Harry gets into anew mess and we say we are going to help him but all that ends up happening is Harry saving himself.

I guess he could not save himself this time.

Blind. The magical world had a cure for many afflictions, but blindness…it just wasn't one of them. If the blindness had been cause by an illness or just by a genetic defect it could have been fixed. However, my cub's blindness came from something more formidable then any disease, it came from hate.

Someone needs to pay. There has to be some way to fix this, there has to be some way for me to help him. My poor Harry, so lost and alone, I can't let him end up like me.

At this moment, I can see the truth that has been sneaking up on me for the last sixteen years.

It's time to get away from Dumbledoor (Don't worry, I'll take care of everything) and make a new alliance.

An alliance that will right all of Dumbledoors' wrongs and even all of mine, an alliance with the most powerful person in the wizarding world.

Saying in your head that you are going to break out of a hospital and doing it are two very different things. It has been two days since I started seriously planning my escape, two days since Healer Peverell's alliance was determined, and I am still sitting in this uncomfortable hospital bed!

The upside of things is that I have finally developed a plan. The best part of this plan is that I don't have to break myself out (let's be honest, that would never work), I'm going to have a bloodsucking demon do it for me.

My lawyer, Dallas Kilian, has decided that he is going to do me a very large favor and get me out of here. Finally, someone is on my side of things about getting out of here. I'm sure the promise of being allowed to take my case had nothing to do with his offer to bust me out.

The wicked grin on my face is abruptly wiped off my face as Healer Peverell enters. If there is one thing I'm actually going to miss about this white, sterile prison, it's that woman.

She's just been so bloody…nice. It's hard to explain but there is just something about her that makes me feel safe and wanted. Even though I can't see, I always know when she is close. It's more than the colors that surround her, it's all the little things she does. Knocking on my door even though she doesn't have to, making sure her footsteps are loud enough so that I can hear what she is doing, talking to me like I'm normal.

I guess that's the root of things really. She treats me like I'm normal. All my life I've been "boy" to my family and "the boy" to the wizarding world, but Healer Peverell doesn't treat me like a boy. She treats me like a man.

There's nothing I can ever do to make her understand how much that means to me. If there's one thing I'm going to miss when all this is over it will be her, but then again…who says I can't take her with me?

Somewhere Mysterious

"Pettigrew, you idiot! You sill haven't found a way into that damn hospital? You told me you would have a plan in two days and it has been four! Crucio!" I raged.

I admit it, when someone doesn't live up to what I expect; I get a little…angry. Of course, by "a little angry" I mean I need a spot of torture and a good screaming fit before I am fit to walk among society again.

Suddenly, a squeak of a voice interrupts my thoughts, "M-m-my Lord, i-i-i-it seems t-that H-Harry P-P-Potter is no longer in t-the h-hospital," the little worm snivels.


Why is it so hard to find good hench-men these days? Pettigrew is fit more for Gardner than an agent of evil. I mean, honetly, Bellatrix is as insane as they come, Lucius is a power hungry sod, Crabbe and Goyle are so imbecilic that they can't tie their own shoes, and Severus is a double spy-who I can't even trust with the smallest amount of information or tasks.

I guess the old saying is true, if you want something done right…you just have to do it yourself.

First Bank of London, South Bank Centre

"Harry, it's not that I don't understand you leaving, but how did you get out, why take me, and where are we going?" Healer Peverell intoned calmly. It seemed that South Bank Centre is about as different to her part of London as Hogwarts is to my Cupboard under the stairs.

Her questions were clever so I felt no harm in answering them.

"We, Ms. Peverell, are in London's cultural hotbed simply named South Bank Centre. We are going to my flat in the Wizarding section of the city known as South Bank Centre W where I am sure you will help me recuperate to my highest level of health. I took you because I like you and I think there is more to you than you let on. Lastly, you must remember Dallas, my lawyer? He developed a wonderful plan in which he planted a Gollum in my bed while I was in the bathroom (the only place without monitoring spells) and then he apparated me out. He went back for you of course, and now we are here." I explained gently but matter-a-factly.

"Oh" she sighed.

"Indeed," I went on, "Now why don't we get to my flat and we can have a wonderful cup of tea and some biscuits." I prodded.

"Harry, that sounds lovely. When did you get a flat? Is it paid for monthly or do you own it? I don't mean to pry but I never expected you o be a planner…"her words rushed out quickly.

"No need to clarify, you are operating under what others have told you, I guess it all stated about two years ago. It really began before then but I started taking action the summer before my fifth year.

I had suspected Dumbledoor of being a fool since the day he sent the first Hogwarts letter to the Dursley's. The Dursleys themselves look nothing like me, speak nothing of my parents except lies of what drunks they were, and they always treated me sub-humanly. At the time I wondered how family could treat family that way. They treated their son like a king, how was I any different? I began to suspect foul play in the form of puppets and plants. I know now, from what I learned before Hogwarts, that "my family" are really just low magic squibs who harbor a grudge against anyone better than them. I also know that Dumbledoor paid them a sum of 1000 pounds a month for my care, or lack thereof, from my own back accounts.

Needless to say, they did not use the money to care for me. Their precious son was given most of my money in the form of toys and an enormous amount of food, all of which he rubbed in my face. The Dursleys always told me that I was an ungrateful brat and they didn't get anything to take me in. For a long time I believed them, but then I wondered why they never let me check the mail.

Anyway, that's another story, the summer before fifth year I asked Gringotts to make me withdrawls of 100 pounds every month and deposit them into a secret account for approximately 2 years. Once I had enough money I bought a large building in South Bank and had it converted into an apartment complex. I always keep the penthouse on the top floor for myself for when I could finally escape from the Dusleys. This allows me to collect income and maintain a home at the same time.

Since then, I have stopped the monthly withdrawls from my accounts and begun to make deposits into my secret account. Every month I put about 12,000 pounds in. During the summer I usually put in a bit more because I get a job. I'm not sure what I'll do now that I've lost my sight, probably get into more realestate, and maybe open my own wizarding hotel." I explained calmly.

Healer Peverell seemed a bit stunned that I had planned for my future so well. Does everyone really think I am incapable of planning? I mean, I'm the tool for defeating war but I can't come up with a simple plan?

As we walked up to the front of my building, I could feel eyes following me. I can't say I'm surprised, I've always felt the eyes. At least here I know it is not just because I'm The Golden Boy, I have real friends here.

Alphard, the door attendant greeted me at the door and politely inquired about my guest. I have always had a fondness for Alphard; you will never meet a more polite 17 year old. I chatted momentarily and then led my new alliance to the elevator. As we waited, I noticed her air of astonishment. I suppose I have done quite well for myself. I suppose it is a good thing I have, being blind and all. I guess being an Auror is out, but having thought about it lately, I wasn't built for the job.

What? The Golden Boy isn't fit to be an Auror? When you think about it, my stealth was practically non-existent which is why I needed dad's cloak. I'm too famous to not be noticed, I'm too small to offer physical strength, my spells are all too powerful to go unnoticed, and the list goes on.

My façade is falling away to reveal who I truly am. I feel like I'm constantly being watched, I must always keep up the "boy wonder" image. In some ways, becoming blind is a blessing. No one will notice my strange behavior as anything other than grief and adjusting to my new lifestyle.

A flash of gold across his permanently darkened vision broke him out his thoughts.


"Hello Charlie, it's wonderful to see you again…well not see you perse, but do you think you could stop stangling me?" I gasped out happily.

Charlie Wesley has secretely been living in my building for nine months, paying rent of course. His family stil thinks he is in Romania on The Dragon Reserve. He left after a rather bad burn convinced him he wanted to do more with his life than help creatures who hated him. He now makes a respectable living as a potions ingredients hunter, finding and collecting some of the rarer and more interesting things for mysterious buyers.

We stepped into the elevator, all three of us, and pushed the buttons 2 and 3.

"Sorry Harry, are you alright? I haven't seen you in months and there have been some Order members spreading some…interesting rumors. Did your aunt really…I know its not really any of my business…"Charlie rambled, clearly he was embarrassed and a little flustered to see that at least one of the rumores was true.

"Charlie, slow down! I'm fine, my aunt…she's going to pay for what she's done to me. I want to talk to you later about some job ideas I have if you've got the time. I'm thinking about a change in careers…maybe starting my own business.

Charlie wasn't as mindless as Ron so I'm hoping my code words got through to him. Based on the flash of gold around him I believe he has. If there's one peson who knows about going against everything your family believes in its Charlie. After all, he is the first Wesley spy in 1,000 years.


"We will talk later Harry, I promise!" Charile called while exiting.

Silence decended upon the elevator as the doors closed and Healer Peverell and I were left along. She glanced at me warmly and her eyes held a bit of a twinkle at seeing Charlie caring for me.


"Come along Ms. Peverell… we have much to discuss. I believe we need to have a chat about what you are willing to offer my side of the war." I said casally, gesturing for her to follow me down the hallway to her new life.

A/N: Finally, the next chapter is out! I hope you guys like it cause it was a struggle for me to put out more than 1,000 words more than I usually do. I hope to get some feedback and I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little to informational but the background needs to be strong for the story to make sense in the coming chapters. In the next chapter, harry will have his first real connection to Voldemort! Stay tuned!