Plans of a Madman

Prologue--Resolutions and Sandwiches

The ride back from his last year at school was a very silent affair. No games of Exploding Snap, no butt-whooping games of chess with Ron, just a deafening silence as he sat in his compartment, utterly alone. But that was exactly as it had to be. There was no need to break his friends' hearts when he died, now, was there? Of course not. He had subjected them to too much pain as it was; they did not need any more burdens.

He sat, contemplating exactly what he was about to do with his life. Yes, it was dangerous and risky. Yes, it was more likely he would die than live. And yes, it was all for the best. He could save millions of lives this way, and wouldn't it be worth it? Of course it would be. He had analyzed every point in his reasoning, ironed out every problem that came his way. He had been going through training for two years straight now, under the tutelage of every professor in the school, especially with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore. The one man he could not sever all ties with, the one he just could not make despise him. It seemed that, no matter what he did, he could not make Dumbledore even dislike him. He could not understand it, and after time, he decided it just could not make sense. And he had done some things that simply are not accepted in the wizarding world, no matter what age you happened to be born in.

Ginny was the first of his closest friends to turn away from him when she found out he was a homosexual. Or at least, he "let it slip" that he was gay. They never did figure out his "partner in crime," as they never were supposed to; it is somewhat hard to find an imaginary figure.

He and Ron had had a "falling in" one day due to an argument over Ron's lack of and Harry's abundance of fame and its positive and negative outlooks. In other words, Harry began to brag about his fame, putting Ron down, and Ron reached right out for the bait and started one of the fiercest arguments Hogwarts had ever seen. A never-ending silence between them ensued.

Well, that was one reason. And the fact that Harry disapproved of Ron's marriage to Hermione finished off the relationship. That's what turned Hermione from his side to Ron's. Soon, everyone avoided him, as the rumors began to spread of what he had done to his three closest friends, only coming in contact with him when it was dire or about the war, which was dire in itself.

And now he was alone, as it had to be. There was no other way, no other path that could be taken. Fate had been sealed tightly shut against the winds of possibilities and choice.

As he sat in thought, the train had made its way through the land, nearing King's Cross. He alighted from his compartment, cloaked from head to foot, indistinguishable underneath the hood. He alighted from the train and strolled away to find a home of his own before his mind could be overtaken by his emotions. He couldn't let that happen, now could he? No; not an option on this one. He had to be strong, to block out all emotions. He could not let his feelings free, for that would spoil it all.

He walked away from there and stepped into a cab, in need of some more quiet and some rooms to rent. He enjoyed the silence, the sound of nothingness ringing in his ear, covering his sorrows and misgivings. No turning back; the potion was made, the bank account was emptied, the loose ends were all tied off or cut off. This was it. The beginning of the end. And he had never felt more joyously nervous about it.

*** *** ***

He sat comfortably in his chair with his eyes closed, soaking in the sunshine streaming through the windows of his small home in the country. The room was warm and cozy, wood on all sides and even the ceiling, a beautiful medley of mahogany and ash. The couch and chairs were all overstuffed, the rugs on the floor thick and soft.

He opened his eyes slowly, almost unwilling to arouse himself from this indolence. He stood and stretched, yawning slightly. He should probably be getting dressed now; he could not stay in his pajamas all day, though the thought was very tempting.

He was about to go into his room to change when there was a knock at the door. That was odd. Now who could that be? He had estranged himself from all human contact when not related to the War. Only a few months had gone by since he had graduated from Hogwarts; he had just turned eighteen. Then who could it be?

He decided to take a chance and open the door, waiting for but a moment to make himself look as if he had just gotten out of bed. What he saw was definitely not what he had expected.

On his doorstep stood a small child, no bigger than five, his little face showing the fear and terror in them. " 'Scuse me, mister. I'm lost. I can' find my Mummy, an' could you help me, mister?" The little blue eyes began to well with unshed tears. He brushed them away with the back of his little hand, dirtying the little face slightly with a smudge of brown dirt.

Poor little kid...must have been separated from his mother. He smiled at the little boy and held out his hand to him. "Sure I'll help you find your mother. We just need to get you better first, though, don't we? Won't be able to see your mum through teary eyes!" The little boy smiled a quaking smile and took his hand as they stepped into the house.

The little boy looked in wonder as he stepped into the room. In the eyes of the little boy, it was a beautiful place, a little paradise of sorts, something he had never seen before. He was used to the clean freshness of his house, but the rich beauty here that was so completely masculine was truly an amazing experience to him. He yearned to take off his shoes and socks and feel the beautiful carpets beneath his feet, but he dared not, having been raised by a very upstanding mother, of course.

The young man smiled at the little boy and gestured towards a chair. "Go ahead; take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable. Don't worry about a thing; the furniture will not bite you." He smiled and waited for the little boy to take a seat. Reluctantly, but eventually, the little boy did sit down. The young man sat down on a chair across from the little boy's and made himself comfortable as well. "Hello; let me introduce myself. My name's Harry. And you're...?"

"I'm James, James Boyd, mister," said the little boy, growing somewhat in confidence. "I'm five years old." The little boy held out his hand, fingers splayed to emphasize.

"Well, James, it is a pleasure to meet you." They shook hands in very grave solemnity, the small one fitting comfortably in the large one. Harry had to stifle a laugh very carefully. "Can you tell me where you were when you realized your mother wasn't with you any longer?"

James shifted in his seat a little, his eyes averted to the carpet. "Well, I was sitting, playing, for a looong time, but no Mummy comes to get me. So, I go to find her, and she not there! Not anywhere! So I goes up to your house and asks for help." He finally looked up at Harry. "That good? No get punished?"

Harry smiled slightly. "You'll have to ask your Mum about that when you see her next. But could you tell me where you were when you were playing?"

The little boy's face brightened up slightly. "We was at the shops a ways down the road, Mister Harry."

"Just call me Harry." He smiled at James, his eyes somewhat distant as he thought. Mrs. Boyd was probably out somewhere having a donkey trying to find her little boy. If James had really come from that far away, his mother would never find him any time soon...oh dear; James was in for it.

James' stomach rumbled mightily for a little kid, waking Harry from his thoughts. Harry couldn't help but grin. "Why don't we have a snack before we leave to find your Mum? I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He winked over at James, and James couldn't help but smile. They stood from their seats and Harry led them to the kitchen.

Immediately upon entry, the nose was bombarded with fresh scents of warm cooking, of well-prepared meals and delicious, savory foods being eaten here. James' stomach immediately began to protest even louder.

Harry chuckled slightly. "Seems that stomach of yours is pretty insistent, is it not? We'd better get some food in there quickly. Have you had any lunch yet?" The little boy shook his head. "Well, then, time to make some lunch! I remember what I liked when I was your age..." A blatant lie, but it works for the moment.

Soon, Harry was busy at work, whipping up peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches with the crust cut off. Soon, there was a nice large stack for the both of them to finish off. They began to chow down, with Harry providing some glasses of milk. Unfortunately, he somehow conjured a cow as well. James giggled in delight as Harry slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead and quickly attempted to make the cow vanish, but to no avail, for soon, there were three cows standing there, all with yellow bonnets on their heads, their small horns sticking out from under them.

Harry smiled as he watched James' happiness spread through him. If only everything could be solved with a few misplaced cows and yellow bonnets. Soon, the cows were gone, and they were left with the job of finishing those sandwiches.

But before they could finish their last ones (James' third and Harry's fifth), a loud and exasperated knock came at the door. Harry quickly made his way towards it; he could feel an angry presence on the other side, and did not wish to take any chances. James immediately was torn between finishing his sandwich and watching the action, but decided the sandwich would always be there when he came back, and the action simply wouldn't wait for him.

He watched in awe as the man he now knew as Harry crept oh-so-quietly towards the door and opened it slightly. James couldn't see who it was, but that tone of voice was very familiar, and also the tone that was being used for that voice; he was in some very big trouble.

"Madam, may I help you?" asked Harry politely to the woman who silently raged as she stood at his front door.

"Yes, there is something you could help me with." She flipped a brown curl out of her face and stared right back at him, daring him to stop her. "I'm looking for my son. It seems that his magical presence is here. Do you know where he is? For so help me, if you do, I will get it out of you any way I..."

"Mummy, don' worry; Harry is really nice. He makes good san'wiches." James stood away from the shadows, eyes filled with determination, though slightly shaking in fear of punishment and rejection.

"Oh, James!" Mrs. Boyd came rushing into the room, engulfing her son in a tremendous hug. Harry silently wondered if James could breathe at all.

"Mummy, you're hurting me..."

She pulled back immediately. "Oh, Jamesie, I'm so sorry! Never do that to Mummy again, understood? I was worried sick! If you're somewhere and can't find me, stay where you are so I can find you more readily! Okay, darling?"

He nodded his head solemnly as he looked into his mother's eyes. "I's really sorreeeey."

"Just don't do that again...never do that again..." She cradled her child in her arms, but James was getting a little sick of it. He pulled away and walked towards Harry.

"Mummy, this's Harry. Harry, this's Mummy." He dragged Harry towards his mother and smiled up at both of them. All Mrs. Boyd could do was blush, and all Harry could do was smile amiably.

"Sir, I'm so sorry about all of this, but you know how it is when a mother can't find her little child...I was worried sick that something had happened to him, especially with the world as it is nowadays..." She focused on a spot somewhere to the right of his head, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"That's quite all right, Mrs. Boyd; I understand. Now, to introduce myself, because you are probably wondering who I am. I'm Harry, as James has stated, and James came to my door to ask me to help him find you, for in his eyes, you were the one that was lost." He smiled slightly. "His stomach decided on lunch before we left on this quest, however, and so here we are, guilty of dilly-dallying over peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches."

"Thank you so much, Harry..." She finally let herself look into his face, and she gasped. "Harry Potter?"

He sighed slightly to himself. Would this always happen? Most likely, yes. At least this would soon pass. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I believe I've been had, James; I've been discovered."

James' eyes widened to donut size. "You're Harry Potter? Wow...hi, mister."

Harry sighed. Would this ever end? Nope. Not yet, at least. "It's Harry, remember, James? Unless you want me to call you squirt the rest of your existence..."

"Okay, then, Harry!" said James, smiling happily. "Mummy, can I finish my mahshmellol and peanu' butter san'wich?"

Mrs. Boyd immediately grabbed James. "No, James; I'm sure Mr. Potter has much to do, don't you, sir?"

"Oh, no, really; I'm free for the day..."

"Well, Mr. Potter, thank you so much for your kind hospitality, but I must, I mean James and...we must be going..." She looked at him one last time in awe and mortified horror, then left the house, dragging a rather put-down James behind her. Harry managed to wink at James one last time, at which James smiled in spite of himself, as the door was shut in his face and he was left alone once more.

The door now closed, Harry slid back into the chair he had been sitting in before, his mind drifting over the odd events that had just happened. Well, what were the chances? Slim, indeed, they were, but they were wonderful when they happened. He'd never have another one of these moments as Harry Potter, now would he? No; Harry was soon going to be gone. And all for the best interest of the world, of course; he never seemed to think in any other way, being the Savior of the World and all. It was simply what he did, what he would always do, and what he would always be. Well, at least until death. And maybe even in death he still could be...

He let his mind wander on these thoughts as he let himself drift off into sleep once more. There was much to do tomorrow. Tomorrow was to be the end of Harry Potter, and Harry definitely wanted to be in top shape for such an event.