"Shit," he swore under his breath as his robe snagged onto bare branches a third time, prompting him to shrug it off in a hurry before resuming his frantic race through the thick forest. The trees were too close together. He could hardly see where he was going. He was whipped in the face with leaves and his palms were skinned from the numerous times he had stumbled into rough bark. He made a quick cut to the right, barely slowing down as he switched direction. He ran like the devil was after him.

The Dementors were faster.

His breath fogged up, marring his vision and causing his heart to jump to his throat. He wasn't going to outrun them. How much farther?

His foot caught on a root and he stumbled forward, flailing to grab onto something, anything.

He fell hard instead, banging his knees on the forest floor.

He scampered around, in time to see a horde of hungry Dementors descend on him, shutting away what little moonlight filtered through the thick canopy. His will seeped out of him. His mother screams, growing in volume and intensity as a dozen other voices joined in and echoed with her. He sank to the ground. Violent scenes from the war started playing in his head, images he had shut out years ago. Those scenes erased everything else. There was only despair and pain. He had never imagined dying this way. It was such a cruel way to go…

"Not yet."

A blue police box.

He could only stare at the nonsensical object floating over him for a moment before he was yanked up and thrown sideways.

He shielded his eyes from blinding white light, falling back in a daze. But he didn't end up on the forest floor as he had expected. He felt cold metal under him instead, a smooth gangway. And it was loud. So loud. Louder than the screaming in his ears. His muddled brain couldn't figure it out. He wasn't cold anymore. He wasn't scared…

He peeked out from between his fingers.

He wasn't in the forest.

He blinked at the multitude of brass pipes of different shapes and sizes running over his head. This was definitely not the forest. He scrambled over onto his side, then his front, holding himself up on his scraped hands and knees. "What the hell…?"

"Just my luck!" the Doctor exclaimed as he rapidly typed into a keyboard on the centre console while simultaneously fiddling with dials and knobs in a seemingly random order. "Oh, if they could see me now." He glanced at the bewildered wizard, exhilaration making him a little too excited. "Just my wonderful luck!" He pulled the monitor towards him, peering into the screen to scan the mess of information. "No time to lose!" He let out a triumphant laugh and skidded towards a rather important looking lever. "You better hang on, Mr. Potter." He winked at his guest. "You're in for a ride."

Harry's eyes went wide. "N-no, no, no, no-"

The Doctor cranked the lever down.

The TARDIS lurched, sending Harry flying into a railing. "Oh Merlin," he groaned as he latched onto it for dear life. He squeezed his eyes shut, his brain rattled in his skull when he was jolted this way and that, both with and against gravity, until his ears buzzed and his teeth chattered, echoes of grinding gears, hissing steam, beeping, whirring, clanking, squawking, all around him, chaos-

Just as suddenly as it had all started, it all stopped.

He didn't waste a second.

Unwinding his arms from the cold railing, he crawled to the bright blue door and shoved it open. He barely even noticed that he was perched on a jagged cliff by some unknown sea. He dragged himself out onto damp stone so he could hurl what little food he had left in his stomach. Never again. He was never doing that again.

After he was done, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the grey sky. He was alive. He should be getting his soul sucked dry right now. He probably wouldn't have been found for a couple of days even. Against all odds, he was alive.

Maybe.

He sat up.

A blue police box.

"What?"

Confused, he struggled up to his unsteady feet and staggered forward, resting his hands on the worn wood. He peered around the corner. Four feet deep. He stepped back. Four feet wide. He frowned. Eight feet tall.

He pulled the door open.

"Uh…"

He pushed it shut.

Then opened it again.

"… Okay then…" Maybe he had died after all.

He took a sluggish step to the side to avoid getting bulldozed by the lanky madman that had flown this odd blue box like a maniac.

The Doctor hopped to a halt. "I thought you had run off!" He quickly smoothed his jacket and brushed his hair back, his wide grin hardly wavering. "Harry Potter! What a marvelous honor!"

"Right…"

"You've lost your wand!"

Harry arched a brow. "How did you…?"

"Why else would you run away from Dementors?" With that, the Doctor shoved him right back inside the TARDIS and shut the door behind them. "You never run." He waltzed his way to the centre console. "I've read all your books." He picked up a worn, old copy and showed it off proudly. "I would ask for an autograph, but you don't look too keen at the moment. Maybe later." He tossed the book aside.

"It's… a lot bigger in here, isn't it?" Harry interjected weakly. He waved his hands at the alien machinery before him. "Rather… big…"

"Of course it is. How else would we fit?"

He rubbed his aching head. "Of course," he mumbled to himself. "How else would we fit?"

"Now, Harry Potter." The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Where to?"

"Huh?"

"Where to?"

"What do you mean?"

"All of time and space laid out before you. Everything to explore. Where to?"

"Er… Home?"

"Home?!" The Doctor stepped back in shock and offense. "Home?! Of all the… You could be… I just asked you to… Why would you… All of time and… Home?!"

Harry realized that 'home' was a long way away if this conversation was any indication of things to come.