Man, did his head hurt! Natsu sat up slowly, blinking groggily and clutching his head with his right hand. What the hell had happened? He remembered helping Lucy stack some books in the Guilds library. She spent a large amount of her time down there, helping Mirajane, reading through dusty old volumes for inspiration with her own writing, and hoping to come across more mementos of when her teammates were younger. Natsu didn't mind helping either, it had sparked an interest in reading about historical magic battles, and he fervently wished that one day his own fights would also be recorded. They had been chatting about Cana and her recent drinking contests when, being her usual clumsy self, Lucy had knocked against a shelf and an avalanche of books had rained down upon Natsu, one of the books hitting him squarely between the eyes.

He blinked owlishly as he glanced up and down the street he was currently lying in the middle of. Well, he certainly wasn't in the Guild any longer; in fact this didn't even look like Magnolia. The houses were too neat and identical to be from his town where each house was a reflection of the owners' personality. A layer of dust seemed to have settled over everything here and the front gardens, that normally looked like they were kept in pristine shape, looked parched. From where he sat, he could make out a street sign on the corner; it read Magnolia Road1. How ironic, he smiled to himself. Peering closer he spied an odd looking orange cat with flecks of gold running through its coat. Its fur appeared to tuft up around its neck like a mane, and its tail ended in a plume. It was staring at him with intense eyes from underneath the sign.

"Here, kitty," he murmured softly, wiggling his fingers at it gently. The cat made a snorting noise at him, before dashing off to a house across the street and through a cat-flap in the front door. "Strange thing," he muttered, as he started to gently pick himself up off the ground and dust himself off. His head was still pounding, but at least nothing seemed broken and he couldn't see any bruises, which was a bit surprising as some of those books had been really hard and heavy. He frowned. This seemed awfully like the time he, Lucy, Erza and Gray had been sent to the past and relived a day of their childhood. Then again, he was pretty sure that he'd never set foot here in his life. Not only that, but this time his friends weren't here so he couldn't rely on them to get back home. What was he going to do he wondered, anxiously biting the nail of his thumb.

A sudden burst of panicked voices broke through his train of thought. They were quiet, so probably far away, if it hadn't been for his animal like hearing he most likely would have missed it. Spinning around he set off, sandaled feet slapping hard against the dry, cracked road surface as he ran towards the source of the disturbance. He kept his ears pricked, listening hard as he narrowed in on its location.

He rounded a corner and noticed that the lights overhead were flickering and going out. And damn it was getting chilly. Darting into a dark alley he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What the…"

"SHUT UP!"

Harry's wand was pointed at Dudley. His hand was shaking with anger and he wanted nothing more than to hex his cousin. What did know about his nightmares, about Cedric…about Voldemort? Just one spell, then that smug look would be wiped off his face. But he shouldn't. He'd get in trouble with the ministry of magic, and Sirius with would be disappointed with him, or at least pretend to be. But just as he was going to lower his wand he noticed that the temperature was beginning to drop rapidly around them, and the darkness seemed to be pressing in closer from all sides, both as the lights flicked off and unnaturally so. Dementors.

"Point that thing away from me," he heard his cousin bellow.

"Shut up, it isn't me," Harry snapped, straining to see or hear the foul creatures.

WHAM. Dudley hit him hard around his head, sending him crashing to the ground, his wand slipping from his grasp. Blinking through the pain and sudden stars that had popped into his vision, he scrambled about frantically, searching for his fallen wand.

"Lumos," he whispered, grabbing it with relief when it lit up. Glancing up, he saw it. The dementor was tall and heavily robed in black. Disturbingly rotten, skeletal like hands protruded from its billowing sleeves and a rattling noise sounded deep within its hood, as though it was sucking in all the air around it. "Stop, Dudley. You're running straight at it!" he yelled, struggling to his feet.

It was too late though, feeling the effects of the dementors, Dudley sagged to the ground, rolling onto his side and clamping a hand over his mouth at Harry's urging. The sound of a deep rattling breath was all that warned Harry to the presence of a second dementor behind him as it grabbed him by the throat, forcing him against a wall. Gasping for air, he watched as the creature inched closer, the smell of decay and despair surrounding him. His head filled with thoughts of Cedric Diggory's dark and vacant eyes, of Voldemort's cruel high laugh. He was going to die, he knew it. He didn't have enough strength in him to attempt casting a spell. He shut his eyes.

"What the…"

Harry managed to shift his face enough to see who had spoken, as did the dementor, its hooded face turning just enough to take the stench of its breath off Harry's face.

A boy, perhaps the same age as himself, stood at the end of the alley. His brain wasn't quite sure what to process first, the fact the boy could see the dementors when there wasn't meant to be another wizard living in Little Whinging, or the small detail that his hair was a vibrant pink. He didn't have time to get over either of these elements though, as the stranger had begun to do something strange.

As though in slow motion, he struck his fists together, the simple act causing a wave of energy to roll off his body and form into a strange glowing circle with unusual marks appearing both within it and around the edge of it. He brought his hands up to cup around his mouth.

"Karyū no Hōkō!" he yelled, and a wave of writhing, twisting flames erupted from his mouth, missing Dudley by inches and knocking the dementor off him.

The one holding Harry dropped him immediately, and he hugged himself tightly into the wall to avoid the fire that blazed past him; the heat was incredible and he thought that surely he would catch fire. He knew though that although the fire had surprised, and perhaps even frightened the dementors, if such a thing was possible, that it wouldn't be enough to get rid of them. Only a Patronus charm could do that. The sudden absence of light and heat alerted him to the fact that the stranger had stopped breathing fire, and he glanced up to see one of the dementors sweeping towards the boy and grabbing his wrist. To his utter shock the boy shifted backwards onto his heels then threw himself forward, head butting it. A crack reverberating around the dark alleyway.

Never in his entire life had he thought he'd witness someone bodily assault a dementor. Though it tilted backwards from the sudden physical display of strength, it wasn't enough to make it let go, and it slowly straightened up as the second dementor closed in from behind. Even as the boy sent an elbow flying into what Harry presumed to be the dementor's ribs, he could see that the boy was slowly losing energy, the dementors nasty effects finally taking over. The dementors were leaning forward in what could pass as eagerness. They were going to kiss him!

Harry needed to act now. The boy's action had provided him with the distraction he needed, and with his mind clear again he rose to feet, wand pointed before him, steady and strong in his hand.

"EXPECTO PROTRONUM!"

A silver stag burst forth from the tip of his wand, magnificent head swinging wildly before lowering it and cantering towards the dementors. It caught one with its antlers and swung it off into the night before rounding on the second one and chasing it away. The stag turned to look at Harry with its large eyes.

"Thank you, Prongs" he whispered as it slowly faded away. He wished that it could have stayed a bit longer.

Shaking himself back to his senses, he hurried over to his cousin, and incidentally the stranger.

"Are you OK?" he asked the boy as he knelt down beside Dudley.

"I'm fine, thanks," was the reply he got, though Harry could see that he was still dazed from the effects of the dementors. Up close, he saw that the boy was tanned and muscular. He had high cheekbones upon which some of that strange pink hair brushed against, and his eyes were a bright green with oddly narrow pupils. His clothes were peculiar as well, something he'd never seen in the Wizarding or Muggle world. He wore a dark waistcoat and a strange skirt like article, both of which were trimmed with gold. His trousers were white and slightly reminded him of harem trousers though they stopped and tied around his calves with black ribbon. He wore sandals on his feet. Around his neck rested a white scarf, and Harry swore that the material reminded him of his dragon hide gloves.

He'd been staring so hard that he hadn't realised that he was being spoken to.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, sheepishly running a hand through the hair and making it stick up more than usual.

"I asked what those things were," the boy said impatiently.

"They're dementors," Harry answered. "They guard the prison Azkaban. They suck the happiness out of people and sometimes even their souls." He wondered if he should be telling him this much information. He clearly wasn't a muggle, but he didn't appear to be a normal wizard either as he looked puzzled by the explanation he'd been given.

"Dementors? Never heard of them."

The sound of hurrying footsteps caused them to look up as Mrs Figg, Harry's mad, cat-loving neighbour came into view, shopping bags swinging from one hand. He hastened to put his wand away.

"Keep your wand out Harry, there might be more," she said, glancing nervously around them.

Harry was so shocked that he nearly dropped it. Mrs Figg's knew about his wand? And had seen the dementors? It felt like his world was determined to turn upside down in one night.

"Mrs Figg, you're a witch?" he managed to splutter out.

"No, I'm a squib," she frowned at the pink haired lad beside him. "Come on, hurry up. And don't put it away, boy," she snapped, as Harry for the second time tried to put his wand into his pocket so that he could attempt to help the moaning, whimpering Dudley to his feet.

"I've got him," the strange boy muttered, bending down and placing Dudley's arm around his shoulders. He hoisted him to his feet and started dragging him along as though the weight didn't cause him any inconvenience. Harry was thankful that it wasn't him having to slog his cousin's mass beside him.

Keeping his wand by his side, ready for if it was needed, he hurried to Mrs Figg's side. She appeared to be muttering to herself.

"Mundungus! I'm going to kill him, I really am. He knows I can't do magic. Don't know why Dumbledore trusts him."

"Why didn't you tell me you were a squib, Mrs Figg?" he asked her. "All those times I was around at your house?"

"Dumbledore's orders," she replied, eyes continuing to dart around about the street. "I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything. I'm sorry I gave you a miserable time," she said sincerely. "But the Dursleys wouldn't have let you come over if they thought you were enjoying yourself."

"But how did you know where I was?"

"We've been keeping an eye over you during the summer, Harry. I had Mr Tibbles over seeing you, and when Mundungus Fletcher disappeared from his post earlier, he came and warned me. Later, Mr Paws saw a weird looking boy appear in the middle of the street, who suddenly set off running. I presume that's him there," she jerked her head behind her at Dudley and the boy.

He did not miss the fact that Dumbledore had obviously been having him tailed over the holiday, something he did not appreciate, but he decided not to focus on that at the moment.

"You can apparate?" Harry called over his shoulder.

"Appar-what?" the boy scrunched his nose up in confusion. Yet more proof that he was not a normal wizard.

Mrs Figg's was watching him suspiciously. "I'd keep an eye on that one if I were you. Anyway, once Mr Paws told me what had happened I hurried off to find. Oh I will kill him. MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, COME HERE NOW!" she screeched.

There was a cracking noise, and a short man with long, straggly ginger hair appeared before them. He stank of tobacco and seemed slightly unsteady on his feet.

"What's up Figg, why aren't we undercover?" he asked, idly scratching the side of his nose, his eyes lingering over the strange kid behind them.

Mrs Figg's walloped him with her bag. It sounded rather sore. "Dementors attacked and on your watch," she shrieked. She continued to hit him, cursing loudly at him as he tried to fend her off.

"What, dementors here? I'd best go and tell Dumbledore," he raised an arm before Mrs Figg's shopping bag could knock his head off and he disapparated.

They continued down the street together, Mrs Figg's taking the bizarre looking group right up to the front door of number 4 Privet Drive. That brass door number had seen more abnormal events than it probably ever wanted to, Harry mused.

Before returning home Mrs Figg's left Harry with one final piece of advice. "Someone will be in touch soon, stay where you are and wait for instructions." And she left, carpet slippers flopping along the pavement as she made her way across the street, leaving the three boys to deal with any further events that would occur inside the house.

"Diddy, is that you. How was dinner at your friends, did you enjoy yourself?" Aunt Petunia emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands against her apron. She looked up and saw Dudley. There was a pause. Then a scream escaped from her mouth as her darling boy leant over and vomited over the hallway floor.

Vernon, attracted by the noise, came in in time to see a total stranger dropping his son onto the ground in an attempt to jump away from the sick that had threatened to cover his bare toes.

Petunia was helping Dudley into the sparkling clean kitchen, asking whether Mrs Polkiss had given him something foreign to eat whilst Vernon rounded on the other pair.

"What did you do to my son?" he breathed out dangerously, neck and face slowly turning red, his little eyes looking seriously close to popping out of his head.

"Well, obviously we didn't tell him it's rude to puke over other peoples feet," the boy said, carefully examining his own. Harry didn't think he was helping the situation.

Vernon looked close to exploding, the veins in his forehead throbbed and Harry could see the cogs in his head settling on the words 'juvenile delinquent' as his uncle's eyes feel upon the strangers pink hair and exposed chest.

"Vernon," they heard his aunts voice call from the kitchen. "He's says the boy used it, and that the other one tried to roast him."

The 'other one' snorted in amusement.

"Kitchen, now." Vernon placed a hand on both their shoulders to shepherd them through into the next room, but the delinquent shook it off, stalked into the room, threw himself in a chair and started sniffing the air. His eyes fell on a plate of sandwiches on the table.

"Do you mind?" he asked, and helped himself to one before the Dursleys could stop him.

Harry was going to intervene quickly before whatever patience his uncle had left finally snapped just as an owl smacked into the window. Jumping up, he let it in and wrenched a letter from its leg, uncle Vernon yelling something about 'bloody owls' behind him.

It was a note from the Ministry of Magic. His stomach filled with dread, and he lowered himself into a seat as he read its contents. He was being kicked out of Hogwarts, they were coming here soon to destroy his wand. Not if he could help.

"What are you doing?" Vernon yelled as Harry leapt to his feet. "Fix my son."

"No. I'm leaving, get out of my way," Harry threatened, pulling out his wand and pointing it at his uncle.

"You're not allowed to do magic," the man sneered.

"No? Well I've just been expelled," he said, shaking the letter in front of his uncle's face. "So it doesn't matter anymore. Now move, or I'll make you."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think everyone should calm down."

Harry turned to face the pink haired boy who had just finished devouring the plate of cucumber sandwiches.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked incredulously. The boy tossed his crusts onto the plate.

"That woman you called Mrs Figgs, she told to stay put here and wait for further instructions. That means there are people trying to help you. You should put more trust in you nakamas."

"Nakamas?"

"Your friends."

SMACK

Another owl had soared straight into the kitchen window. Hopping in through the open part, it stuck out its leg importantly as Harry eagerly grabbed it and ripped it open ("ENOUGH WITH THE BLOODY OWLS"). It was short and had obviously been scribbled in a rush.

'Harry, do not leave your uncles house! Dumbledore has gone to sort things out at the Ministry of Magic. We know there was another boy involved with you, but the ministry don't yet. Do not let him leave! Mad-Eye wants to question him at some point. Whatever you do, do not let them take your wand. Arthur.'

Disappointed with the limited amount of information he had been given, he sat down again, the boy smiling smugly beside him knowing that he had been right in saying that Harry's friends were trying to help him out. But how did the ministry not know about the other boy, he'd used magic too after all? "I've changed my mind, I'm staying here."

Vernon looked confused about the sudden change of heart but quickly dismissed it. "What about my son then, what did you do to him?"

"I told you, I didn't use my wand against him. Dementors attacked and tried to kiss us. I sent a Patronus charm to drive them away, and he…" he glanced over cautiously at the boy. "He breathed fire at them."

"Breathed fire? Don't be stupid, even I know your kind can't do that sort of thing."

"I'm just that awesome," the boy responded cheekily, grinning up at the large man who loomed over him.

"And who are you exactly?" Just as the boy was about to answer, Vernon cut across him. "Never-mind, that's not important right now. What are dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."

Everyone turned to look at Petunia, as it was her mouth that the words had been uttered from. Realising her mistake, she clamped a hand over her lips.

"You know about the dementors?" Harry asked. He didn't think that this night could contain many more surprises, or if he could handle them.

"Yes, I overheard your mother speaking about them once. Don't ask me anymore though," and she pressed her lips tightly together.

Vernon looked as shocked as Harry did, but he stuttered on. "What do you mean they tried to kiss you both?"

"It's they're final attack, it's when they suck a person's soul out of their mouth," Harry replied numbly.

A sudden look of interest appeared on the stranger's face, and he leant in close to Dudley, examining him and waving a hand in front of his vacant eyes. When there was no response, he poked him sharply in the arm.

"Don't touch my son," Vernon growled, pointing a sausage like finger in the boy's face as Dudley let out a high pitch squeal. The boy growled threateningly, teeth bared like he'd bite Vernon's finger if it lingered there much longer. It was retracted quickly.

A third owl appeared, actually making it through the window first time. Harry was suitably impressed. For the third time that night, his heart was in his throat as he scanned the letter in his hand. He frowned, he wasn't being expelled yet, but it was still a distinct possibility depending on a disciplinary hearing that he had to attend on the twelfth of August. Just as he considered leaving the Dursleys again, a fourth owl flew in, dropped a letter and left. Harry had to agree with uncle Vernon this time, the amount of owls was getting a bit ridiculous. This time it was from Sirius saying to stay in the house. Quite frankly he was getting annoyed with the lack of information or praise.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE WITH THE OWLS!" clearly uncle Vernon was getting infuriated to. "And you, what were these 'dementors' doing here in Little Whinging?"

Harry hesitated. That was a good question, how had they got there? They were meant to be guarding Azkaban, so what were they doing so far away from there? "No idea," he answered truthfully. A sinister thought dawned on him. Perhaps the ministry was losing control over them, maybe they'd never really had any to begin with.

Vernon was breathing ridiculously hard now, as though he'd run a marathon, which would have been completely impossible for him. Half a street at a push, but definitely no more than that. "It's you," he panted. "It has to be, you're like a freak magnet for this kind of thing. Why else would they have been in that alleyway. Yes, it's definitely your fault."

"It's not my fault," Harry snapped hotly. "Voldemort must have sent them," he added softly to himself.

"Voldemort? The one that killed your parents?"

Harry nodded.

There was a pregnant pause. "That's it, get out of my house, you bloody trouble maker," he lunged at Harry, trying to seize his collar. "You're endangering my wife and son, and I've had enough."

Just as his fingers caught a hold of his nephew's shirt, a strong tanned hand latched onto his wrist.

"How dare you," the delinquent child seethed between clenched teeth. His eyes blazed angrily, and a murderous aura seemed to emanate from him. "He is your family, and you'd throw him out to face whatever danger lies there waiting for him by himself? I don't believe it, how can you even call yourself human?"

Vernon stuttered before the boy, trying to prise his wrist from his iron like grip. The last time Harry had seen his uncle this flustered and scared was when he been confronted by Hagrid's giant form before he'd entered his first year at Hogwarts. Not even when Arthur Weasley had blasted apart half his living room the previous year and Dudley had suddenly sprouted a foot long tongue had he been scared, mainly angry and prone to throwing breakable objects.

"L..le…let go of me, a..at once," he finally managed to choke out.

"No," the boy growled, yanking the larger man in closer until their faces were mere centimetres apart. "Not until you apologise to him and let him stay." Vernon's wrist was rapidly changing colour from the pressure being applied.

There was a screech and a bang as an owl dropped out of the chimney, dropping a bright red envelope onto the floor before quickly retreating. It was a smoking gently at the corners and from his position Harry could make out the words Mrs Petunia Dursley scrawled elegantly across it. Who would send his aunt a howler he wondered.

"Open it," he urged his aunt. "It will be worse if you don't."

His aunt squeaked and shook her head, obviously afraid of the smoking paper. It burst into flames.

"REMEMBER YOUR LAST!" A threatening voice resounded around the kitchen, echoing off the highly polished surfaces.

Before it managed to burn itself out, the pink haired boy inhaled deeply, swallowing as the flames whipped towards him and into his mouth. He gulped it down before running a hand guiltily through his hair. "Sorry, force of habit."

Harry was not sure whether it was the threats of the howler or the boys, or if it was perhaps the terrifying scene of the stranger eating fire, but Vernon collapsed suddenly into a chair. "You can stay," he all but whispered in Harry's direction. He turned to face the table, resting his hand against his forehead in a manner that suggested that he was incredibly tired.

The boy nodded in satisfaction. "Thanks for the grub," he said before turning to leave. The boy was almost out the front door when Harry suddenly remembered Arthur telling him to keep him in the house.

"Wait," Harry called after him. He turned, an eyebrow raised in question. Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously. "It's just, you helped me out back there, I'd probably be out on the street if it wasn't for you. And you seem kind of new to the area. I was thinking that, you know, you might want to say here a while, get a feel for the place." He stuttered to a stop, the boy curiously glancing him up and down.

"Really? You wouldn't mind?" he asked.

"Of course not," Harry replied, feeling slightly guilty at his ulterior intentions for wanting to keep him at the house. "Oh," he said suddenly. "I never caught your name."

The boy's face split into a sunshine smile. "Natsu. Natsu Dragneel. I'm a member of Fairy Tail."

1 This is actually a street name mentioned in the first chapter of the book. It amused me greatly.