Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the world and characters therein
AN: Now Beta-ed!
Chapter 1: Runaway
Harry Potter was not normal. His family knew it from the moment they found on their doorstep. Harry, however, was only realizing it now as a swarm of hornets that seemed to have taken up residence in the garbage can his cousin Dudley was trying to shove him into flew right past him to attack his cousin. While this was a strange, what made Harry sure he was different was the fact he knew it would happen. He knew from the moment his cousin lifted the lid and heard the buzzing that it would turn out this way.
Why? Because he wanted it to.
It had been like that for awhile for the five year old Harry Potter. When he wanted something to happen, it usually did. And every time, he felt a vague vibration. Not through his body, but... deeper, like a tremor going through his mind or soul...
These instances happened as long as Harry could remember. At first they were accidents. But as they kept happening, as the feeling grew, Harry learned he could control them. Whenever his larger cousin and his friends would bully him, Harry made sure something bad happened to them.
Their bikes broke, their games crashed, they slipped in mud when it wasn't raining, their tongues froze to poles when it wasn't nearly cold enough. The effects were always different, but the meaning was the same: Every one who upset Harry Potter suffered the worst luck.
The other children in the neighborhood originally avoided Harry because Dudley would bully them if they didn't. Now they did it because they were afraid if they upset Harry, bad things would happen to them. Harry rarely chose what befell his tormentors, but he found he could control the severity of it. For instance, when his cousin tried to shove him in a hornet filled garbage can, all the hornets flew past Harry, and stung Dudley.
Things like this are what made the other kids call Harry, 'Hex Harry'. Harry found he didn't really mind the nickname, even if the other kids treated him as if he were a bully himself. At least he usually got left alone. Unfortunately, the two people whose Harry's power didn't make leave him alone were his Aunt and Uncle. They had locked him in his cupboard every time they even heard the whisper of a rumor of Harry's actions. And the more he used them, the longer, and longer he stayed locked in.
As Harry stood there, a small smile on his face as the his cousin cried in pain from the numerous stings he tried to inflict upon Harry, Vernon Dursley arrived home from work. He saw what was happening as soon as he got out of his car, and went pale. With a strangle cry he ran to his son, picked him up, and ran inside. Harry sighed as he watched his uncle, and knowing what was coming next, walked inside himself, went to his cupboard, and locked himself in.
Harry tried to fall asleep, but the noise of a shower running upstairs, along with the numerous screams and cries coming from both Dudley and Petunia Dursley kept him awake. Then to make matters worse, a siren came to the house with a deafening racket. But finally, after what seemed like hours, the house fell silent, and Harry started to doze off; for five whole minutes.
The door to his cupboard was torn open, and the large meaty hand of Vernon Dursley reached in a grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him out into the living room. Harry was about to ask what was happening when a fist impacted harshly into his stomach.
"Think it funny do you! Trying to kill my son is some sort of game to you, isn't it boy!", Vernon yelled as he slapped Harry as hard across the face as he could, sending the small boy to the ground.
Harry didn't get to respond as his uncle started to kick him in the face and ribs while muttering to himself. Harry could only hear something about 'beating it out of the freak' before the ringing in his ears grew too great for him to hear even his own thoughts. Even still, Harry was starting to become angry. He was afraid as well, his uncle had never hit him before, and he didn't seem inclined to stop, but mostly Harry Potter was angry.
What right did Vernon have to blame Harry? It was Dudley who opened the garbage can, Dudley who angered the hornets, why should Harry suffer for it? His anger grew with the beating, and as he felt his physical strength waning, the strange power in Harry grew. He began see things, a somehow, he understood what he saw. The strange line and swirls flowing around everything. He knew what they were: Possibilities.
He started to pull at the possibilities surrounding his uncle, assuring his punishment, even as the last blow fell. With a grunted, "Maybe now, you'll learn to act right Freak.", Vernon grabbed Harry's limp and bloody body, and threw it in the cupboard.
Harry lay there struggling to breathe, and read the possibilities around him. He could die, he saw. His injuries were bad enough where it was a decently strong possibility. But wasn't an absolute. And with that in mind, Harry started grabbing at his own possibilities, he found the ones where his wounds healed, not only healed but healed correctly and quickly, and drew them toward himself. With that last bit of effort, Hex Harry Potter passed out.
Harry woke up the next night. Immediately he felt something was wrong. It took him a while to notice he couldn't see the flow of possibilities around any more. It took him a moment longer to notice that he could move.
His face hurt, one of his arms was most likely broken, and so were several ribs, but he could move. And his good arm had enough strength to open the cupboard door. It took him awhile, but he could do it.
Harry limped from the cupboard to the kitchen, and pulled out the first aid kit his Aunt always kept hidden in the counter. He couldn't really think straight, but he remember what he had to do from before he passed out. Carefully, Harry applied the antiseptic and bandages. The difficult part was making the splint for his arm using a wooden spoon. It took awhile, but Harry did it.
All bandaged up, Harry looked around. Seeing his blood on the carpet of the living room, not touched from Vernon's beating convinced Harry no one was home. Petunia would never put up with such a mess. Harry knew he couldn't stay here any longer. Things had escalated to a point he couldn't put up with any more. And after what he had done to Vernon, he very much doubted he'd be welcome. So instead of giving the Dursley's the opportunity to come back and finish the job, Harry decided to leave.
Unlocking the front door, Harry limped off into the night, the only witness was Mr. Tibels, a kneazel breed cat belonging to Mrs. Figg who, as luck would have it, was locked out of the house and wouldn't be able to inform anyone something was wrong until morning.
Albus Dumbledore was an old man. He was so old in fact, that he wouldn't be upset by being called ancient. And in his many years, Albus Dumbledore had experienced many, many things. Which made having a new one very difficult. And that was why having a squib run into is office screaming bloody murder at five in morning interesting, rather than upsetting. After all, it wasn't very common, now was it?
Seeing Mrs. Figg in such a state also had Dumbledore very worried however, which prompted the immediate response of, "Whatever is the matter Arabella?"
For the first time, Arabella Doreen Figg managed to say something Dumbledore could understand. Normally this would be a good thing. It was not, however, when the words were, "Harry Potter!"
Dumbledore stood up straighter and the last vestiges of sleep fell away, "What happened." he said in manner that could only be called commanding.
"He's left home!" Mrs. Figg wailed, "And whats worse, Mr Tibbles said he was injured!"
Dumbledore instantly turned to a series of silver devices along his wall. After a few minutes of prodding and muttering his face drained of all color, "They're gone." he said simply.
"What. What are gone?"
Dumbledore turned to his long time friend and said in a voice of quite despair and horror, "The wards, the blood wards protecting Harry are completely gone."
"What do we do Albus, what do we do?" Mrs. Figg sobbed, quite clearly nearing the edge of panic.
Dumbledore's face snapped to attention as he said quickly, "First we must go the Dursley residence. Hopefully there will be some clues there."
Finally having something solid to do once more, Mrs. Figg nodded and said, "We'll floo to my house, it'll be the quickest way."
Albus Dumbledore surveyed the living room of Number Four Privet Drive with dismay. There was a sizable amount of blood soaked into the carpet, a little dried onto the walls, and a trail leading to a small cupboard where Harry slept, away from said cupboard into the kitchen, and then trickled away on it's way the door. Dismay quickly gave way to mounting rage. They would do this to a child! A mere five year old boy! The only thing stopping Albus from tracking down the Dursleys and turning the lot of them into the bloody animals they were was the fact he had something much, much more important to do first; finding Harry Potter.
"Which way did Mr. Tibbles say he went?" Dumbledore asked with fake calm.
"Toward London Albus. Oh, we must find he quickly!" Mrs. Figg wailed.
Dumbledore nodded, "Arabella, I need you to start asking around. Ask if any of the neighbors saw him. Show them this if you must to enlist their help. Also, contact the muggle Authorities to help. I'll go to the Ministry and gather a task force. With luck, we'll find Harry Potter by the end of the day."
Arabella Figg nodded and set off to start her part of the search. The poor dear boy needed to be found soon.
"Petunia Dursley?" Asked a police officer walking into the hospital room.
"Did you find him!" Mrs. Dursley shrieked, "Did you find the man the hit my husband?"
The officer was momentarily stunned before responding, "No Mam, I had no idea there were any other incidents. I'm here because of your nephew."
"Harry? You're here about Harry?" She shrieked as she stoop up and turned on the officer, "He should be at the neighbor's, so why are you wasting your time on that when there's some drunk out there that's killed my husband!"
The officer was stunned before responding in a very quite voice, "I'm sorry to say this Ma'am, but your nephew is missing. He was reported missing this morning by a neighbor, on Arabella Figg. Apparently your front door was open and nobody was home. On top of that, there was a large amount of blood all over the residence. Lab reports confirm it belonged to your nephew, and with the amount there, we're not entirely sure he'll survive."
You could watch the emotions on Petunia Dursley's face. Anger gave way to shock, which gave way to horror, which gave way to sorrow. That all she could do was wail, "Why Vernon? Why would you do this?" proved unnerving for the young officer.
He tried to get Mrs. Dursley to talk more, but her distress was such that a nurse had to come in shortly afterward and sedate the poor women. All in all, a useless trip, except that Mrs. Dursley somehow felt her dead husband somehow responsible...
Arthur Weasley was very tired. He had volunteered to to join the task force to help find Harry Potter. He had even been given leadership of one of the many, many groups of searchers. The problem came from the fact that it seemed that only his group seemed to care about the Statute of Secrecy. Because of this not only was he pulling overtime in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, but he had also been drafted to help the Obliviators.
This would be the reason why Arthur Weasley Got home to his beloved family at eleven o'clock at night. "Arthur dear, is that you?"
'Thank Merlin for that woman' Arthur thought as he replied, "Yes Dear."
And with those magic words, out came his wonderful wife with a tray filled with a much needed supper. Molly Weasley waited until her husband had finished before asking, "So, did you find him?"
Arthur shook his head sadly, "Not a clue I'm afraid. It's like he's vanished from the face of the earth. At this rate we'll have to tell Ginny."
Mrs. Weasely sighed sadly, "This will break her poor little heart. You know how much she loves those stories. It'll be like hearing Santa went missing for her."
Mr Weasley could only nod, "The closest thing we have to new information about Harry's whereabouts is that Sirius Black is making a big ruckus now, demanding to see Madam Bones."
The conversation went on for a little while, with neither of the wary parents noticing the crying little girl running back up to her room, the only thoughts in her head; 'Harry Potters gone missing!'
Amelia Bones was sitting across from one of the wizarding world's most notorious criminals. Normally this would mean she would be either angry or disgusted. Perplexed was not a state she was used to being in in this sort of situation. From the moment that Black entered the room and barked out the question, "Did you find him yet?" with what sounded like equal parts hope and fear, this interview hadn't gone any where the way she had expected.
The fact that when told that they hadn't, Black had instantly demanded to help made things more confusing. When asked how he could help that other couldn't, willfully volunteering that he was an unregistered animagus was the last thing Madam Bones expected. Finally, her curiosity could be restrained no more and she asked, "Why, why do want to help find him so bad?"
Sirius Black slumped in his chair and looked more forlorn then he had when surrounded by a pair of dementors, "Because its all my fault." was all he said.
Madam Bones could hardly disagree with him, from what she knew, and yet this didn't add up to her, "How." was all she asked.
Without looking up, Black only muttered, "I shouldn't have trusted him. I shouldn't have convinced them to switch. I shouldn't have doubted Remus. So many things I shouldn't have done."
What Black was saying made no sense to Madam Bones. His words, his actions, everything he was doing didn't add up for what he did. And every law enforcement agent knew: Inconsistency is were where the best clues were always found. Taking a gamble she sincerely hoped she wouldn't regret, Madam Bones said, "Mr. Black, you can help search for Harry Potter. But first you must promise to let either me or a ministry appointed representative both search your mind and question you under venirsirum.
"Have any one you?" Black asked with what sounded disturbingly like hope.
A hour later Sirius Black was freed, all charges dropped, and a large sum paid in restitution for his wrongful imprisonment. He immediately set off to find his Godson, and the wizarding world was now looking desperately for one Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater, Traitor, Rat animagus, and suspected of kidnapping Harry Potter.
Sirius and his best friend and search partner Remus Lupin, neither knew which they'd prefer to find first.
Harry had been surviving on the street for four months now. He slept in the Undergound, eating with money he'd 'picked up' from people that got on his nerves, with no rules, no one to tell him what to do and no one to have any expectations of him. He lived freely, and he loved it.
He was currently eating a hot dog from a street vendor he'd bought with money he found, in a wallet on the ground that appeared just after a very rude man pushed him out of his way in a rush to reach a cab, when he over heard a pair of very strange men talking. "I tell you Remus, he's around here somewhere!"
The other man shook his head sadly, "Sirius, you've said the same thing for weeks. I'm sure you're nose is still good Padfoot old pal, but in this city, you can hardly smell that he was here, let alone if he still is , or where he is."
"We have to find Harry Remus, we have to. Malfoy, Grabbe, Goyle, and Merlin knows how many other escaped Death Eaters are looking for him too! Do you know what they'd to him if they found The Harry Potter first? The best would be to turn him into a Dark Wizard! The Best!"
The other man, looked around nervously, "Keep it down would you. I know all that. I never said we'd quite searching, I was merely suggesting we change our methodology Padfoot. I want to find him as much as you do."
At this point, Harry ducked into an alley before the pair could find him. 'So people are looking for me eh? People who seem to think they're wizards to!' before Harry could start laughing at the idea, he remembered his own strange power. Would it really be a twist to call what he did magic? Every one else seemed to...
Lost in thought, Harry didn't realize he had walked into a not so nice part of town. His attention was caught by a woman's scream. His feet automatically began running to the source only to find a boy about fifteen holding a woman against a wall and pawing at her chest. With out realizing what he was doing, Harry called out, "What do you think you're doing?"
The teen turned and screamed, "Shoo runt!"
Harry embraced his power and took a step forward, "Or what?"
The teen let go of the girl he was holding and walked up to Harry. He grabbed him by the collar and said, "Or I hurt you. Now Are you gonna leave?"
Harry just grinned and said, "No, I don't think a pussy like you would have the bollocks to."
The teen went red in the face and slammed Harry into the wall. Pulling a knife to Harry's throat he said, "That's it, any last words?"
Harry's grin grew larger as he said, "Yep, get him Tiny!"
The teen started turn to face an imagined foe as Harry kicked his foot as hard as he could into the teen's crouch. The pain made him release his grip and Harry dived, tackling the girl to the ground just as out on the street, a reckless driver swiped a parking sign with enough force to snap it off, and send it spinning right into the would be rapist.
Harry quickly whipped himself off and walked over to the teen on the ground. Realizing that he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, if ever, he took all the cash and the knife he had. As he started to walk away he heard the girl say, "Wa-wait!"
Harry turned to look at her and asked, "Yes?"
"Thank you." she said, much calmer now.
Harry just shook his head, "No problem." and start turned to walk away.
"What's your name?" She asked quickly.
"H-", Harry began, before remembering the strange men looking for him. Not wanting to surrender his new found freedom, especially not if it meant going back to Petunia for her revenge, he recovered by remembering his nickname, "Hex. Just call me Hex."
Before the confused girl could say anything else, Hex Harry Potter printed to the street and got lost among the crowd. But from then on. The street Urchins of London began hearing more and more of the mysterious boy known only as 'Hex'
AN: Okay, first shot. Didn't start too bad I think, but please leave some reviews with your opinions. Not flames, those are as useless as the people who write them, but constructive criticism is okay.
Thanks for reading, I'll have more up as soon as I can.