The rocky terrain covered the area for miles, with the occasional group of palm trees here and there in fragments. The left side of the terrain faded into the sandy beach overlooking the ocean. On the vast terrain, stood a couple of caves, with smoke coming out of one- thick, grayish smoke slowly dissipating out of it.

A sudden crack resounded, the noise reverberating in the coastal breeze, and two people appeared out of nowhere. An old man with a white beard, dressed in robes of aquiline blue, accompanied with a stern looking witch in jet-black robes and a long pointy hat—stood on the surface. The man held a long queer looking stick-a wand, one very different from the usual wands these people had. Holding it in front, he uttered a string of obscure words and the front-end of the wand glowed blue as a sudden jet of light shot out of it and fell on the walls of the cave in front.

"I think this is it, Professor Mcgonagall."

The old witch looked oddly at the man, her eyes filled with curiosity, disbelief and to a certain extent—anger. "Are you sure this is the right place? Why in the world would he be here?"

"I have no idea. We have searched everything and everywhere we could. This ritual was simply the last card on the stack. I have every hope that we have succeeded this time."

Mcgonagall scoffed. "I had warned you multiple times not to place him with those despicable muggle relatives, but you did not listen. Look where it got us. Five years Albus- the boy has been living out on his own for five years. I do not even want to imagine what he has been through."

"I know, and no one despises me more than myself for that. Let's go in."

The woman nodded and the pair walked into the cave, shooting in two balls of light out of their wands, illuminating the path inside the depths of the dark cave. They crossed a couple of bends, passed a couple of adders and rattlesnakes lying on the sandy floor underneath, in the direction of the smoke emanating out from within.

"How can a boy live here? Are you sure this is the correct place?"

"I am hopeful, yes."

Mcgonagall frowned, and whipped her wand out. "Homenum revelio." A red sheen filled the area in front of her, casting a thermal projection of a small boy in front of them. "I found him, but I can't see him. Do you think he is-?"

"Who are you?" A disembodied voice resounded all around him, the dead rocky bends all around resonating the voice to eerie levels. Mcgonagall twitched her wand, but Dumbledore touched her shoulder. "Please come forward. We are here to talk."

"Who are you?" The eerie voice repeated.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the-"

"Headmaster of Hogwarts. I know about you."

"Interesting." Dumbledore's moustache quivered. "Please come forward. We do not mean to hurt you."

"How can I trust you?"

Dumbledore took out his wand. "You know of me, correct? Here this is my wand-you do know what it is right? It is how I do magic..." He raised it in front of him. "I am going to put it on the floor for you. Please come forward. I am not going to hurt you. I swear."

The air in front of them fluttered like a cloak as a figure materialized in front of them. The two elders looked in astonishment as the perfectly cast disillusionment faded and a young scrawny looking boy materialized in front of their eyes. He did not really look like what the couple expected. The young face was marred with two long scars, one running down his left cheek, and the other-a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. His hairs—for some reason, they were different from what they had thought. Instead of the rough, untamable mass of hair, protruding out—there was a tousled wind-blown hair falling in two locks on either side of the head. His eyes were still the brightly lit emerald green, almost pulsing with a leashed power.

"How do you know who I am?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled. "I have seen you many times, my boy. Long back when you were a toddler. Your name is Harry. Harry Potter."

"Harry... Potter", the boy murmured, his hands automatically rising to his temples as pain shot across his scar, his magical aura flaring dangerously as he did. An old memory...he did not know whose it was, or what it meant, but for some reason, it felt strangely familiar to him. The old man did nothing but wait and watch as a poisonous green aura hung around the boy, as if ready to strike them down at a single command...

"Harry..." the woman cried out, her hands raising towards him. The boy's eyes snapped open, the green eyes suddenly turning jet black for a moment, hurling the woman away by five feet. A quick reflex and a cushioning charm prevented her backbone from being crushed.

"Don't come near me." The boy hissed, "I don't want to hurt you. I told them too... I told them not to hurt me." His voice sounded nearly hysterical.

The old man walked slowly towards him. "There is no need to fear, my boy. You are among friends."

"Friends... I do not have friends." The boy countered vehemently.

"Now you do. You see, we are just like you." Dumbledore tried to convince him.

"Prove it. Prove it." He hissed. The ringing voice, the commanding tone- it was eerily reminiscent of someone... someone who had been just like this boy, fifty years ago. Someone who had grown up to become a destroyer.

Dumbledore flicked his fist, as the fallen wand rose back to his hand. With another flick, a huge wall of flames manifested near them.

"Do you believe me, now?"

The boy-Harry, did not answer.

"We have come to take you back. Back into our world—your world."

"My... World?"

"Yes. You are a wizard, Harry. A wizard. Just like I am. A world of witches and wizards, a world of magic. I have come to take you back."

The boy's eyes narrowed and Dumbledore felt he saw a tinge of red somewhere in them. "If you knew me...from before", he yelled, "Why did you leave me there?"

"It was..." he hesitated, "it was because they were your relatives, Harry. We thought they would love you."

The boy laughed. A bitter, emotionless laughter. "Loved? They beat me...they hurt me... They... they..." his eyes burned with power, "I am not going back to them."

Dumbledore looked at him and replied softly. "They are dead, Harry. There is nowhere to go back. Will you come with us?"

Dead...A memory rose in his mind... Hurt, tears, anger...a light...shouting...yelling...

A loud explosion.

"Yes, I will go with you."


The whitewashed room that was used as the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts was the most orderly room in the castle. Despite the fact that the school housed over three hundred teenagers all year, the Hospital wing looked just as immaculate as wizardly possible. The matron and mediwitch—Poppy Pomfrey was busy shifting from one closet to another, making sure her potions and draughts were ready for the arriving guest. The air around the room fluttered, if a bit violently as a loud crack pervaded the air, as three figures materialized out of nowhere. The Headmaster and his deputy were there as expected, and the tiny boy among them was the one she was anticipating.

"You must be Harry?"

The boy stared.

"I am Madam Pomfrey. This is the Hospital wing."

The boy still stared.

"You must be hungry or tired...?" she anticipated the boy to say something, but he did not. Dumbledore cleared his voice. "I am sure young Harry is tired and wants some rest. Professor Mcgonagall-" he turned to the other woman, "—please open some of the guest rooms near my office. I will usher young Harry there myself."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the boy again. He just kept on staring.

Why are you staring?

"I am trying to understand." Came the reply. The problem was, the boy's lips did not move.

You are speaking to me in my mind.

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"That man calls me Harry Potter."

"Why did you come with him?"

Harry's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Poppy suddenly felt an intrusion in her mind. It was the image of a little, fat boy and his group of friends, and they were all kicking Harry, who lay on the floor—beaten and bruised.

He has been abused.

One of the boys took out a small story book and waved it in front of them..."Franke—Frankenstein's – the monster- that's what you are!" the fat boy yelled.

No!

The memory suddenly faded off, returning her sight to face the brightly lit emerald eyes. He took out a small book from within his trousers. It had a purple cover over it.

"They told me I am Frankenstein's monster. I came here looking for my creator."


###AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys, I was working on the next chapter of Resurgence when this new idea came to me, and I couldn't help but give it a try. This is not going to be a new story-well, it can be, but depending upon the reviews, really. I wish to know what you think of this first chapter, and depending upon them, I will continue this story, though Resurgence remains of the greater priority.

So reviews please.