9

"Thanks for this, Bess. I really appreciate it. When I climb up and then jump, please don't interfere with it. I need this. I'm really sorry to do this to you. Please play for me? The lullaby, please. I'll write it in my final note." Freak said, before leaning forward to give his only friend one last hug and kiss goodbye. Then, he gathered up his coiled rope and began to climb the lightning tree. It was an old, blackened oak, which had been struck by lightning several years ago, and a couple of the local kids had tried to climb on it afterwards. They'd fallen and broken their legs, having stepped on the weakened branches which had taken the worst damage. The council had cordoned it off, but that only served to attract more children to it. It had become a rite-of-passage to climb it when you joined one of the older children's 'gangs' and immortalised it in the local youths' heads as a popular meeting place.

Freak climbed and climbed and climbed as his Queen Bess picked up her violin and began to sing.

Soon, he'd reached a suitable height and prepared; tying the hangman's noose knot, throwing the rope over the branch. He placed the loop around his neck and began to creep forwards along the branch, which he knew to be weak. That's why he was being so careful; it wouldn't do to have it break too early. Pulling out a scrap of paper and the pen he'd managed to borrow, he began to write; noose still wrapped around his neck as he prepared his last notes to the world before he ended his pain forever.

'Dear world, my name is Freak. I lived with the Dursleys in the cupboard under the stairs and I was treated as a slave. Taunted daily, I only knew the rules:

Don't be noticed

Do all my chores before Vernon gets home else he'll get mad and use the

studded belt rather than the normal one.

Never make Dudley seem stupid

Never do anything 'freakish' like turning the teacher's hair blue 'cos she was calling me a liar when I'm not or appearing on the school roof when Dudley and his gang are playing 'Get the Freak'

I am wrong, even if I'm right and there's nothing I can do about it

Never tell anyone about my cupboard or the beatings 'cos then Vernon will have to pay a lot of money to his friends like the headmaster, P.C. Romano, and Mayor Johnson so he won't get in trouble over a freak like me being put in his place

Vernon's word is law. Except for when it comes to Dudley.

These rules are worth more than my life to Vernon, so they must be obeyed. Disobedience of any one of them means another beating with the studded belt, the birch cane, the Cat o' nine tails, and Vernon's fists on top of my daily beating with the willow cane, the thick leather belt, Vernon's fists and feet and Dudley's baseball bat, followed by no meals for the rest of the month. Of course, I only get fed once a week anyway, and then only the left-over scraps on Dudley's plate which is nothing at all most times. The most I've ever had was Dudley's fourth birthday when he got sick from too much candy and cake and I had the leftover slice of cake on his plate! It was so good; I've never had anything like it before. Or since.

So since no-one listens, and even though Petunia thinks Mr Dumb-dore is watching us I've never seen him or know anything about him except he's a freak like me only powerful and scares Vernon and Petunia, I've decided that I'll end my pain and stop being a 'freakish burden on (the Dursley's) our finances' so maybe I'll see that red-headed woman with the eyes like mine who got hit with the green light by the snake-faced man because someone called 'Peter' betrayed them to snake face.

She seemed nice in my nightmare of that. The Dark haired man got hit with the green light as well and he died. Afterwards, the red-haired woman was crying and saying that she'd kill Peter herself if she got out of this alive. I hope I do see her, she seemed so sad, I just want to hug her and never let go. I don't think anyone would want to hug me, though, 'cos I'm an 'unlovable, ungrateful freak with no shred of human decency to leave normal people alone'.

Well, I am leaving you and everyone else who's normal alone Petunia. Maybe you can finally love me after this. That's all I ever wanted – to be loved, give the red-haired woman a hug, have a family and live like a normal person even though I'm a freak.

I chose to hang myself because I couldn't get hold of Vernon's gun to shoot my head with, even though he's shot my legs a couple of times and promises not to be so nice next time and 'blow your (my) freakish head off '

Anyway; I guess now is a goodbye, the world. After I die, I want my toy soldiers I took from Dudley to go back to that Steve Polkiss, the younger brother of Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley's gang members, because they were his before Piers took them and gave them to Dudley for a birthday present. Any other stuff I have will go to the nice lady who looked after the person called Harry (which is me in the dreams) sometimes in the good dreams about the red-haired woman and the dark-haired man called prof'sor Mc-Gone-ah-gull.

I also wish to leave my only friend, Queen Bess (her real name is Hermione Granger, but don't tell THEM that), with a final hug and kiss goodbye – I finally did it, my Queen Bess, I'm joining that bird-girl, Rue, in that film we watched in her meadow. Play for me, one last time? The lullaby, please.

You know I loved that one, and the way you do it on your violin is so much more beautiful than in the film, I want you to play it for me.

Thank you, for being there and playing as I climbed and then jumped. It's going to be hard for you, and I'm sorry I couldn't do much to protect you – only make THEM ignore you and our friendship. THEY would have killed you otherwise. I don't have anything else that you'd appreciate to give you, that isn't something Dudley ruined before I could get it to you, so that's why you don't have anything else from me, except my love, small and inexperienced though it is.

From,

Freak.

He reached the end of the branch, jumped once, and the branch plummeted to the ground, his body following.

The noose tightened, beginning to constrict his airways. 'Good. Now I can get away from it all; the hatred, the bullying, my existence. At least now the Dursleys will get to live in peace without me mooching off their finances, taking up room in their house and food from their table. Maybe now they'll be happy. I'm just a worthless boy called Freak and yet I can do nothing right in their eyes. Oh well, goodbye world and my Queen Bess and hello peaceful oblivion.' Freak thought to himself, as he tossed the long end of the rope up and around the higher boughs of the tree he was standing on the middle branches of.

After he'd written the note, Freak put it on display in his pocket, sticking out so Queen Bess could see it and read it. Then, tightening the noose, he stepped off the branch, plummeting down towards the ground. Abruptly, he came to a halt in mid-air, jerked to a stop by the bough he'd secured the rope around. He felt the rope constrict, painfully choking him to death. Oh well, he was used to pain. It was his only companion most of the time, after all. As his vision faded to black, he closed his eyes and waited for the cool embrace of death. His life flashed before him; a cinema reel against a screen of darkness. And then his Queen Bess picked up the lyrics, rather than the tune she'd been playing for the last however long it had been.

He reached the end of the branch, jumped once, and the branch plummeted to the ground, his body following. A meaty thump, the sound of a lullaby and then blackness.

P.O.V. Change.

Severus Snape was irritated with the headmaster. More so than usual, anyway. 'I wonder what the old fool wants now. It's not like he can get any more annoying, what with placing Gryffindors and my Slytherins with one another in classes and his blasted muggle sweets. At least the numbers of dunderheads are dropping in my class. Then again, I scare it out of them in their first and second years for just that reason.' He thought as he strode his way up to the headmaster's office.

When he reached the stone eagle that guarded Albus' office, he gave the password "Lemon Drops" with a customary sneer of disgust and distaste, before ascending the stairs to the office doors.

"Come in, Severus." Came the old man's voice from behind the door, strong and commanding as it had been in the last couple of wars, first with Grindelwald, and then with the Dark Lord. Nervous, though not showing it, Severus entered the room, mask of consistent blankness firmly in place.

"Severus, I'm glad you came so quickly. The wards around number 4, Privet Drive have fallen and we need to check up on young Harry Potter. I may need your Legilimency skills and knowledge of the muggle world for this, so be prepared for absolutely anything. Whether Death Eaters have broken the wards and killed Harry and the Dursleys, or Harry has simply run away, I do not know. We shall be flooing through Arabella Figg's house in Little Whinging, which is in Surrey. From there we shall walk down the road to Privet Drive and investigate. Now, shall we go through? Arabella is expecting us." The aged man said, voice still strong but a hint of worry lacing through as he spoke.

"Very well, Headmaster. After you." Said Severus, even as an elegantly sardonic eyebrow rose steadily towards his lank hairline betraying Severus' inward (mostly) amusement at seeing the old man so flustered over one boy who probably didn't even know he existed. So typical of him to try and summon up great armies to march upon the fields of battle for the smallest matters, like someone who was oblivious to the magical world going missing in probably the most abnormally normal street in all the world.

'Still, this ought to be good.' thought Severus as he followed the headmaster through the fire's floo connection.

P.O.V. change

If anybody was at the residence of Mrs Arabella Figg, they would have thought themselves delusional or overtired as the flames of the fireplace; which had been non-existent before, suddenly flared a bright emerald green. They would then, if they had been magical or a squib, questioned with the veritas serum Snape always carried around with him, alongside multiple other potions and elixirs which were frequently used in his work as a spy, or, if they weren't magical or a squib, promptly Obliviated of the memory and sent on their merry but confused way.

As it was; there was no-one. Mrs Figg had gone out to do her grocery shopping for her many cats (which were really kneazles, the magical version of the perfect house cat/guard cat mix) and herself.

Dumbledore and Snape each strode through the house in an urgent, rapid pace but somehow Dumbledore had managed to add a sense of surreal bewilderment to that, by wearing distinctly garish robes of a fluorescent orange and lime green, over a gaudy yellow and a bright, metallic Gryffindor red undershirt. He almost looked like a set of moving traffic lights, though that wasn't quite right as his beard slightly ruined the image.

Severus, meanwhile, was dressed in his usual black robes and dark blue jumper underneath that, long black trousers, and perfectly polished black shoes in the elderly gentleman style often seen with the fancier shops in London or any other shopping centre, in contrast with his pale complexion, a result of spending so much time underground in Hogwarts' dungeons brewing potions for the hospital wing, Albus' personal use (like the calming draught he laced his lemon drops with, claiming it enhanced their taste and helped him get through the paperwork on the long, monotonous days spent in his office before term began on September 1st)

After about 15 minutes of jogging, or running, in Severus' case – the old bastard was spry for his age of 115 years; no-one could deny that. Not after this – they came across a macabre scene, made all the more haunting by its painful beauty.

A crowd of children was gathered around a worn, blackened tree, gawping listlessly as they milled around the now grotesque area; the state of the tree and its sole occupant contrasting so heavily with the blue skies, bright children's play-park, and the birds trilling in the background.

As they drew closer, both sprinting now, they could hear one of the children playing a violin and singing in the background.

The child's voice was sweet and clear, though filled with pain and sorrow and a keen sense of loss as she sang. They came to a screeching halt; taken aback by the fact that only they could see her, and hear her, though the other children somehow sensed she was there and went around her, not actually noticing they were doing so. They were too entranced by the corpse swinging in the breeze.

"/Down in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow,

Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise,

Here it's safe, here it's warm, and here with the daisies, I shall guard you against every harm,

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place where I can freely love you

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, a cloak of leaves; a moonbeam ray, forget your woes and let your worries lay,

And when again it's morning, they'll wash away, and so shall the pain of yesterday,

Here it's safe, here it's warm; here the Daisies and I shall guard you against every harm,

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place where I can freely love you.

Here is the place where I love you. /"

The girl then came forward, moving expertly between the children moving about, and climbed up to where she could reach the rope, before sitting down and unpicking the knots. As she did so, she seemed to glare at the children, and appear out of nowhere to them; for they all ran away screaming.

Even Albus and Severus had the sudden urge to be somewhere else, though they managed to fight down the effects.

Still not noticing them, thanks to the notice-me-not charm they had placed on themselves before coming through Arabella's Floo point, the girl began gathering leaves and daisies from all around her, to all effects, weaving a cloak of leaves, just like the song.

That she then pulled a shovel from nowhere confirmed the two watching men's suspicions – the girl was a magical – before she glanced at it, appeared surprised for a moment, then shrugged it off and began the process of burying her friend (which would be the only reason why she'd sent those other children away with a magically-enhanced glare, so she could grieve in peace)

"I'm sorry for what the Dursleys did to you Harry, did to us. You were my only friend, as I was yours. Even my parents couldn't understand how someone as sweet and kind and caring as you could be such a criminal like the Dursleys said you were. Good thing they never believed any of that rubbish. I know they work all the time, but at least they were nice to us. Not like anyone else was. Anyway, whenever I sing or play, I'll think of you, and then I'll sing some more, just for you. I'm sorry I never got to tell you your name, I only found out a few days ago; just before we were meant to start school, me and you together, the new kids."

As she finished speaking, she picked up the shovel she'd cast aside and methodically began to dig a three foot by six foot by three foot hole (length by depth by width). Finally snapping out of their stupor, Albus and Severus removed their notice-me-not charms and stepped out of the now lengthening shadows, startling the girl before she could begin digging; though she'd already managed to scrape the grave boundaries in the soft earth as they'd stared, entranced. Looking up at them, she began to back away, before glancing at her friend and then standing up, shovel still in her hands.

"Who are you? If you're here to defile Harry's body, I won't allow it! Not after I just watched him commit suicide because of some god-awful beings that should be consigned to the depths of Tartarus along with mister Dumb-dore for leaving him with the Dursleys after his parents died in a car crash because they were drunk, according to what the Dursleys yelled at Harry for existing! Go away! Before I'm forced to bury three people rather than the one I expected to be!" and with that shout, she dashed at them, shovel held high and ready to crash down and splatter their cranial matter over the pavement.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, MISSY!" came a bellow from behind the girl. A woman was sprinting towards them, tugging a gun-wielding man behind her. The woman herself had a twin pair of brilliant blades on her back, the crossways pattern on the hilts denoting them as two Katanas or Samurai swords to most people. With a startled look, the girl turned and then dropped the shovel, collapsing into the arms of the swordswoman, while the man aimed a short, stumpy pair of guns at the two men.

"Explain. Now." Said the man; clearly not in the mood for beating around the bush or for any silly excuses. Since Severus was the one with the most experience with muggles out of himself and Albus, he stepped forwards.

"Very well, sir. We have been here for about 20 minutes now while we watched this girl first play the violin and then sing with the talent of a professional maestro in a theatre before driving away a crowd of about fifty children all of whom had noticed neither her, her music, nor us. The fact that she did so with a mere glare indicates that she has at the very least a large potential for magic – which does exist by the way. I shall prove it to you in a few moments after we are done with this discussion.

Anyway, the reason for the shovel is that her friend seems to have committed suicide. Unsuccessfully, I might add. My colleague here is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the most prestigious school for magic in magical Britain, and the third in the world. Due to the small magical population, he also holds two more full-time jobs and holds a magical equivalent of a knighthood.

I am a potions master and a teacher at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a part-time spy for one side of a two-sided war somewhat akin to those of the ancient times here in the non-magical world, which is probably a century ahead of the magical world in technology and advancement, and probably two or three centuries ahead in moral, ethical and societal beliefs.

We recently detected the wards – which are like magical, intangible barriers to specific conditions or things – Albus placed around number 4 privet drive on November 1st, 1981 to protect the magical world's saviour in the form of one-year-old Harry James Potter who is the only survivor of the killing curse – it does what it says on the tin, leaving no non-magical trace, instantaneously with no suffering caused by the spell itself – fall.

Naturally, this worried us and so we rushed to the nearest Floo point – that's a form of magical transport where you throw some Floo powder into a fireplace connected to the Floo network, call out the Floo address of your destination, then step into the flames which will have flared green if it's good to go, or red if your access is denied for some reason. The Floo also acts like a telephone call, except you call out the name of the call's recipient, stick your head into the flame when it turns green, and talk away – only to come across the scene which we just described.

After watching for a while, probably due to shock, we revealed ourselves to the girl who then yelled at us and threatened us with the shovel that she'd used to mark the perimeter for her friend's grave. Then you arrived, and you know the rest.

Now, as for proving magic's existence, I shall cast a spell called the full body bind jinx, followed by a levitation charm and a stunning spell. All magical children that attend Hogwarts shall learn these charms in their Second year at 12 years old, their First year at 11 years old and their Third year at 13 years old respectively. *Petrificus Totalus! Wingardium Leviosa! Stupefy!*"

With that, Freak's arms snapped to his side as his legs drew together and his spine became rigid, his stiffened body then began to float and then a red light hit him but appeared to do nothing.

Severus nodded to himself, before asking "Well, that's that done with, but would you allow us the use of one of your rooms so we may contact Poppy Pomfrey, our healer to examine him?"

"Of course, after seeing what we've just seen, it gives us a small measure of hope. Normally, the poor lad would be dead by now; though I suppose magic is keeping him alive for now. Follow us; keep those sticks of yours out ready to cast spells. This part of the neighbourhood isn't exactly safe – there're all kinds of beasts that would just love to snack on your flesh, and that's not even counting the local thugs; go by the name of Dursley's gang and are led by this large whale of a boy, almost a spitting image of his father; vile, disgusting and adamant that they're not doing any harm.

Thankfully, they are too young to go raping girls and the fathers are kept in line by their wives' frying pans and rolling pins. Most everyone is armed to the teeth around here, we just happen to be the most skilled with blades and guns, our 'mione is stunning with a sturdy war axe, the boy there is almost legendary with that knife of his, alongside his bow and arrow, guns, crossbow, and his stealth.

He's something of a local hero – had to grow up fast with the skills and resources I just mentioned simply to survive. Not much in the way of prey species come out here anymore, not since he started hunting them. I've heard tell he can sneak up on a rat and skin it before you can blink, shoot a deer straight through the brain in pure darkness at a thousand yards and can get into anyplace he wants.

We call him Phantom Death 'cos he's so silent and you'll be dead before you can blink if he takes issue with you. Of course, his relatives; the Dursleys use emotional pain to hurt him since he can beat them all in a trice if he wanted an' they know it ever since he started to chop off Vernon Dursley's limbs and painfully reattach them with magic – you can hear the screams for miles when that happens."

"That's…quite the skill set. But what beasts are you talking about? It's not like Albus would allow the werewolves, Vampires or any Inferi to get anywhere near the area – it's too heavily warded for that and the obsession with uniformity would be enough to drive almost anyone insane after a while." Said Severus, inwardly grimacing at the descriptions the man had given him – he had a similar skill set himself, after having to deal with his mother's complacency and his father's abuse; though the abuse he'd suffered was nowhere near as bad as this young boy's had been.

"Well, there was an outbreak of odd occurrences a while back. All we know is some weird folk dressed in black robes an' white masks chose to experiment on normal animals – exposing 'em to some funny coloured lights to make the poor beasties go crazy. Now we got rats as big as cats munching on people, thousands of biting insects swarming around at night, dogs that appear rabid taking chunks out of anything they can, owls swooping down on people; dropping letters on 'em and then shitting everywhere, we got fish and frogs falling on passersby as they walk past the puddles and lakes – jump out at 'em an' start feasting they do.

Of Course, that young man there has helped keep numbers low – he goes to the sites of the 'attacks' blows everything to kingdom come, fixes the damage with 'is powers an' moves on to the next site. When it comes to the thugs, though, he tortures 'em for information an' then 'e kills them. Thank God for small mercies like that. What we've learned from him is that the weirdoes call themselves 'Death Eaters' of all things, an' they plan to start creating attack animals loyal to them an' unleashing them on unsuspecting towns and villages around Britain.

They're crazy but scary, so that young lad taking the bastards out one by one, an' getting information we can use while he does it? He's a hero, an' now he's lyin' there broken 'cos his life is that bad. An' it's all one person's fault – tha' bloody moron called Dumb-dore or some such thing, he's the one tha' left 'im with the Dursleys, forcin' 'im to grow up quicker 'an most. No doubt about it, that boy is an old soul, seen too much death, violence and hatred too young. On'y grown men should find out such things exist, not boys like him. Unfortunately, with the upbringing he's had – practically havin' to raise himself and with only our 'mione for company – he could never truly be called a child. He's seen and done things most soldiers in wartime fear seeing and doing, an' he's done 'em so that we can all live better lives; there ain't a selfish, mean or evil part of him, I don't reckon. How many people can say that? Can you, Mr Snape? Or you, Mr Albus? I know I can't. Most we can do is try an' save 'im 'fore it's too late an' there's no one left alive to stop the lad from turnin' on the folks that betrayed him in the first place, an' he ends up offing himself to escape the guilt – spend too much time around evil, an' you'll become like them – a monster in a human body. I'd hate to see that happen – I doubt anyone would, so we try an' be kind, and respectful, and try to be good human beings towards him so he gets a positive experience once in a while. The only way he survives is by taking things a day at a time – not knowing if he'll wake up in the morning. Same as all of us here."

"Well, that's a revelation and a half but Poppy should be able to save him. After she's done working on him, all we can do is ask whatever deity we worship for a favour and hope they understand we're on the run from devils and we gotta do whatever it takes to survive. We're candles in the winds of time so we gotta make the best of it and that boy is the only hope for us to do that. He's got a lot riding on his shoulders and a heck of a burden to bear, so least we can do is to try and be there for him, and share the load a little bit, even if our actions are a little evil." Replied Severus in response to the man's revelation "What say you, we go find a place to sit down and discuss this somewhere a little more...secure?"