Pain.

That is what Harry Potter, resident of Number 4, Privet Drive, felt right at that moment. Nothing more, nothing less, than pain.

This time, like most had not been his fault, but his cousin wanting some fun with "Harry Hunting" as he called it.

Now of course Harry was only six, but he prided himself on his speed, or in other words how fast he could run.

But no matter how much he celebrated it, he knew the actual reason for him being that fast. And that reason was the same sport that he had failed to avoid that very day, that was causing all the pain. He was sitting on the park bench, trying not to cry. He was fairly sure he had a broken arm, and maybe a bruised rib, but was in the process of being taught not to cry, and was being punished severely if he did cry. He was seven, and the Dursleys, while making sure he was punished if he cried before, never actually did anything about it. Now the punishments for crying were more severe with each infraction. And the first one had been no meals for a day. Harry had risen up to being belted, but hadn't cried in weeks, and he sure wouldn't now.

He was also sure that the Dursleys would not bring him to the hospital, they never did. Once again, he would have to hope it would heal, while keeping his feelings inside and dealing with the bones himself. Or at least heal before Dudley got to it. Broken bones were a weakness, and Dudley took advantage of them.

He had been sitting there for quite some time now, maybe a couple hours. And if he hadn't been so caught up in trying not to cry, and nursing his arm and rib, he would have noticed a specific redhead girl looking at him quite peculiarly.

Now, even if he had noticed, he would have thought nothing of it, he was used to being stared at. Neighbors had heard fables of 'that Potter kid', as he was called, none of them being good ones. But this girl was completely ignoring everything else, ignoring the six other redheads she seemed to be with, and they seemed to be ignoring her in turn. They were eating lunch, and the girl had a sandwich that she was taking bites out of occasionally.

Now Ginny Weasley knew herself, and knew she could sense moods. So while Ron was pigging out, the Twins were probably planning their next prank, Percy was reading, and he Mum and Dad were talking about adult stuff, probably politics, she was watching a certain boy that she could practically see pain radiating off of. She was debating what to do, whether to think something of it or not, whether to help or not. But at that moment, they finished and her brothers ran off, and she made the decision. She walked over to him.

Harry was finely aware of someone sitting next to him, and hoped that they would ignore him. That was what he was used to, anyway, people ignoring him. But his hopes proved wrong.

"Are you okay?" Harry heard a girl ask. He turned to her, and saw she was looking at him with concern. He swallowed, and looked at her in fear. He was certain that she was probably just going to make fun of him, for being weak…

But the concern in her eyes was evident. So he shrugged, and turned away, hoping she would leave. This time he was happy, though, when she got up and walked towards her family.

Ginny recognized when someone didn't want to talk, but it was natural for a child to talk to an adult. She knew this after her not wanting to tell on her brothers, but doing it to her parents. She walked up to her mum and dad, and they gave her curious looks.

"There's a boy over there, and he looks like he's in pain," Ginny said, knowing that the good in her parents would get the best of them. Apparently she was right, as her parents stood and allowed her to lead them to the boy.

Harry sighed. He had looked up and noticed the redheaded girl talking to her parents, and they were glancing at him every few seconds. He guessed he just had to prepare his fate, or just walk away. He decided he had seconds to decide as all three started walking to him. He continued to look at his feet.

When the trio reached him, he saw the parents looking at him thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye, and the girl looking at him with concern. Finally the dad got on one knee. He had red hair but was mostly bald.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked.

Harry grunted and shrugged again.

Arthur sighed. He didn't seem like the kind of kid that would say much. Feeling he should lend support to this child (that looked even younger than Ginny), he reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Harry felt the hand, and a flashback of memories came to mind. Dudley punching him until he puked. Uncle Vernon throwing him into the cupboard. Aunt Petunia slapping him. Over and over. So his instinct came into play. He hopped up.

Arthur watched as the boy's eyes widened and he jumped up extremely fast for a kid of his supposed age. Arthur retracted his hand. And the boy ran away. Arthur and Molly called after him, but he just kept running. And Ginny frowned.

Harry ran and ran, away from the trio, ran back to the park off Privet Drive, ran from the memories. And when he sat on the swing, when it squeaked, he barely felt or heard it. And if he couldn't hear the squeaking of a swing, he couldn't hear four or five boys sneaking up behind him. But he could be made aware when they yanked him off the swing. And he could do nothing.

And when they were done, all he could do was lay there. And try not to cry.

And once more not be aware of his surroundings.

And not notice the specific trio he had seen in the park run up to him.

And dimly notice when the girl covered her mouth (probably at seeing the blood I taste, he thought), and the parents knelt beside him.

And notice slightly more when the parents got out two long thin sticks, and hear… reassurances? Yes, it sounded like that. Of the husband. (Author's Note: Arthur is reassuring Molly that Harry needs magic at that moment)

But he could certainly notice the pain stopping suddenly.

And notice being pulled to his feet.

And starting to feel his anything.

And see them watching him.

Finally he was completely aware. He sat on the swing.

And he looked at them in apprehension.

"Are you okay?" Asked the man. "And please don't shrug,"

"As good as I'll ever be," Harry said quietly, but dreading facing Dudley again.

The man seemed to take this as an acceptable answer, as he nodded. "Where is your mother?" He asked.

Harry looked at his feet. "She- Er- died in a car crash when I was one, about six years ago."

The man frowned. "Then where do you live?"

Harry looked up. "With my aunt and uncle and cousin."

"Then let's take you back to them. Where do they live?" The man said, holding out his arm to help Harry to his feet.

Harry didn't take the offered help, and stayed on the swing. He looked at his feet once more. "I'd rather not go back there."

This whole time the woman and the girl Harry guessed to be about his age had just been watching and frowning, most likely at Harry's answers or the state he was in, but the woman spoke for the first time.

"Why don't you want to go back to your relatives?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. He didn't really want them to know the troubles he faced, they would just get involved. And he finally got off the swing.

"Thanks for the help," he said. "But I must get home."

The parents looked at him in evident shock. After all, he had just said that he didn't want to go home. So he turned away, and walked, leaving out that he had no intention of actually going home.

"Wait!" called the girl, speaking for the first time. Harry kept walking but he turned his head around. "What's your last name?" She called once more.

"Oh, it's Potter," he called back. "Harry Potter."

And he was curious when they all started talking furiously at once, but didn't look back.

"Excuse me," Harry said.

And when the red-haired woman looked around and her eyes landed on him, he thought he recognized her.

"How do you get on the plat–" he trailed off, placing the face.

The woman's eyes widened as well, and he looked at the girl, and recognized her as well. Both of their eyes widened at the same time, both placing him as well. The woman recovered first. "Just run through that wall, you'll go through it," She said, slurring her words slightly, and weakly pointing at the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

He nodded at her, wanting slightly to get as far away from her as possible. Because she reminded him of his childhood. And he only associated one emotion with his childhood.

Pain.