Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I have any cunning plots to do so. Nope, not me.

Chapter 1: Rescue

Pop!

Harry Potter felt like he had just been pulled through a very, very small hole. While spinning. He convulsed, trying to throw up, but his stomach had nothing left in it. He was in the arms of a very, very scary woman wearing a bathrobe. He had just met her.

"Harry!" she cried out as his eyes started to close. "Harry, you must stay awake!"

Harry was back on the floor of his aunt and uncle's kitchen. It was a few weeks before his eleventh birthday. "You miserable freak!" his uncle Vernon screamed between kicks. "What part of 'no magic' don't you understand!"

There was a flash of light, and the door to the garden exploded inwards, glass shards flying everywhere. A tall, grey haired woman stood in it like an avenging angel only… wearing a bathrobe and waving a stick?

"Get away from him!" she cried out in a strong Scottish accent, and she slashed her stick like a sword. Ropes snapped around Vernon, who fell to the ground with a thud. Dudley started shrieking, dropping his ice cream on the ground. Petunia just turned white. Ropes sprang around them as well.

"Oh Albus..." she said, kneeling down next to Harry and swishing her stick. "What have we done?"

-ervate! Levicorpus!

Harry's eyes snapped open. For a moment he felt alright, but then all his pains came back to him. He tried to curl back up into a ball, but couldn't. He was immobilized, stretched straight out like a plank, staring at the bright blue sky. Every once in a while a concerned face would appear above him.

"Minerva, who is that?" another woman's voice cried out. "What happened?"

"Pomona, get to Poppy and tell her to prepare for an emergency!"

A stone ceiling replaced Harry's nice view of sky. Where were they? He began to move faster. Much faster. The ceiling whipped by and suddenly he was flying upwards, in the center of a spiral staircase. Down another hallway and he heard doors bang open.

"Accio!" a new woman called out and Harry found himself falling onto what must be a bed. Another stick pointed at his mouth, which opened. The foulest liquid he had ever tasted was soon pouring over his tongue, and Harry Potter knew no more.

He was back in his cousin's spare room. It was well past midnight, but he had brought a torch and a blanket from the linen closet to hide under. In his hands was a maths book that he had stolen from school.

Harry remembered now. He was nine years old and had just begun a new school year. And his teacher… she had smiled at him. He had answered a question right, and she had smiled. He wanted that again, so, so much! So he took the math book and studied it every night that his cupboard wasn't locked. His cousin would never notice one more book among his untouched collection.

Harry looked at the book in his hands, and kept reading it. He liked this. This was a good memory. Unlike when –

Harry's world shifted and spun. He was in the kitchen again. His Uncle was lighting a paper on fire and gloating. It was one of Harry's exams, the one where his teacher had told him that she was proud of him. Harry had felt something snap inside of him, just before the paper flew out of Vernon's hand and back to Harry.

Again the world spun. Harry immediately recognized his surroundings. This was his oldest dream, the one he always woke up after. He was lying in a crib in a softly lit nursery. A beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes was stroking his cheek.

"I love you Harry. I love you more than anything." In the background was shouting and banging. A flash of green light shone under the door and there was no more sound, save for slow footsteps coming up the stairs.

"I love you!" The woman had started crying, but still raised the knife in her hand to Harry's forehead and began to cut.

And Harry woke up. He sighed. He always woke up, though sometimes he wished that he wouldn't. It was another morning and he would lie in his cupboard until –

Harry suddenly gave an almighty start. This was not his cupboard! Instead he was lying in a bed! And there was the soft light of the sunrise coming through the windows and painting the curtains around him the most wonderful color. He was warm, and comfortable.

Harry didn't know what was going on, but maybe he was still dreaming. He tried to keep his mind still, so it wouldn't go away. He liked this dream.

A door opened somewhere, and Harry heard footsteps.

"How is he?" a man's voice softly asked. It was a nice voice, smooth with age and reassuring.

"He will recover, eventually." A woman's voice. "His injuries were extensive. Two ribs were broken, along with bone bruises on the spine and skull. He was also severely dehydrated, and one of his kidneys was damaged beyond repair. Luckily he responded well to Squick-Grow. If what Minerva overheard was correct, it seems he had been doing labor in the sun without water. Albus, I do not doubt he would have died if your wards hadn't alerted Minerva."

Silence filled the room for a few moments. "I see." The man's voice sounded very, very tired. "Poppy, I must thank you yet again. May I see Harry for a moment?"

"Of course Albus, but do not wake him."

The curtains around Harry drew back and he squinted at the sudden brightness.

" Ah! Awake already?" The man was tall, with a long grey beard tucked into his purple gown and sparkling blue eyes over a crooked nose. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

Harry didn't say anything, but eyed the cross dresser warily. Albus frowned just a bit, and looked Harry directly in the eyes. He chortled softly.

"Do not worry Harry, I do not wish you, or any other child, any ill. Far from it; I am the Headmaster at the school here, and I look out for all of my students. Now I see you are tired, so I will let you sleep. But we will speak again Harry, for I have many important things to tell you, things you should have heard years ago. Sleep well, Harry."

Harry squinted to try and see Albus better. The man looked downright silly in his sparkling dress, but not threatening like his Uncle.

"Thanks." Harry croaked out.

"You are very welcome, my boy. And for future reference, this is a robe, not a dress." With a wink, Albus drew back the curtains and quietly left.

Three days later Harry left the hospital wing, as he know knew was called, with strict instructions from his caretaker, Madam Pomfrey, to "stay out of trouble! And absolutely no flying, young man!" Dumbledore was leading him outside to have a talk by the lake.

Harry had no idea what was going on. From his bed he had seen what could only be magic. Well, the little bottles of horrible tasting liquid that made him feel better could be normal medicine. Very strangely colored medicine. That occasionally fizzed. And once tried to climb out of its own bottle.

Ok, Harry admitted to himself, that one was either magical, or very past its expiry date.

Those aside, he has seen Madam Pomfrey point her stick – wait, they were wands, not sticks. She had been a bit picky about that. Anyhow, he had seen her point her wand and float things! Just like he could! The first time he had seen her he had almost warned her not to do magic in case his uncle saw, but clamped his mouth shut before the first words came out. His uncle wasn't near Harry anymore, and hopefully never would be again.

Harry and Dumbledore exited from the castle through a very impressive set of double doors and walked towards the lake. There was a light, sweet smelling breeze coming from the north, carrying with it the first hints of the fall chill to come. Harry didn't mind however. He was dressed in a robe of his own, and while he felt a bit silly wearing it, it was quite warm.

In just a few minutes they reached the long sloping lawn leading to the lake. As they neared the edge of the water Dumbledore waved his wand and a stone bench slid smoothly out of the ground.

"Sit Harry, and let us have our very long overdue talk."

Harry sat on the bench next to Dumbledore, facing the lake.

"Tell me Harry, has anything strange ever happened around you? Anything you could not understand? Perhaps when you are angry or scared?"

"You mean when I use magic?"

Dumbledore gave Harry an appraising look. "I'm surprised Harry. Most children from non-magical backgrounds I talk to are very hesitant to admit that they can use magic, or even that magic exists. Sometimes even going to preposterous lengths to claim otherwise. I guess I can skip the usual introduction then and get right to the point. Harry, you are a wizard!"

Harry had known, more or less, that he could do magic for about four years. But no one had ever talked about magic like it was a good thing before. It was always Petunia lecturing him about how his freakishness would disgust the neighbors like it did her, or his Uncle shaking him while threatening to beat it out of his system. When he had been little he had wished for something like this, for someone like himself to talk to. Harry's throat tightened.

"D- does that mean I'm allowed to do magic?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes Harry. You can do as much magic as you like. We even encourage it to some extent."

Harry felt something burst inside and found himself sobbing. Dumbledore put an arm around his shoulders and drew him to his side.

"There there my boy" Dumbledore murmured "that's right, let it out. Everything is going to be better now."

Harry sobbed for a minute more before turning his face, eyes red and wet with tears, up to look at Dumbledore. "Promise?" he said weakly.

For just a moment, almost too fast for Harry to see, Dumbledore looked very old and very sad. "I promise to do everything in my power to make things better. For everyone."

Harry and Dumbledore sat side by side for a long time watching the lake. Harry felt better than he had in a long time. His magic had always been his secret comfort. It was something special that only he could do, something he could feel to his very center. He would spend hours when locked in his cupboard making folded airplanes chase each other. He had drawn a stick figure on the underside of a stair and willed it to wave hello to him. It was his secret friend.

Then he had done magic in front of his aunt and uncle by accident, pulling the burning test out of Vernon's hand. Petunia had turned white as a sheet, Dudley had screamed, and Vernon just slowly turned red. Then the screaming started. He was a freak. He was worthless. He was a burden and a waste and he was never to do magic, ever!

And now that was over. He let himself relax the iron grip he had kept his magic under and felt it flow out of him. The grass around Harry and Dumbledore whipped back and forth as if in a breeze, then settled.

The sun had reached its peak and was starting to lower itself over the lake. Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately Harry, there are some more things I need to share with you, some not very pleasant. But first, there are some formalities to cover. You are on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest magical school in Britain. This is where your parents went to school and where your father's family has been educated for hundreds of years. I now extend that offer to you."

Dumbledore handed Harry a letter, addressed in green ink to "Harry Potter, Hospital Wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". Harry turned it over and stared at the wax seal on the back bearing a quartered shield with a lion, snake, badger, and raven.

"The Hogwarts seal, unchanged for over a thousand years." Dumbledore explained, seeing that Harry had paused to look at it. "It bears the animals of each of our scholastic houses. The lion is for Gryffindor, whose students charge bravely to meet their foes. The badger is for Hufflepuff. They are peaceful and loyal, but fierce in protecting those they love. The snake is for Slytherin. Students in that house make plans and wait patiently to accomplish their goals. And the raven is for Ravenclaw, where the gathering of knowledge is prized above all else. Go on and open the letter, Harry. There will be time enough for you to think over the houses later."

He broke the seal reluctantly and pulled out a letter informing him of his acceptance and his required school supplies. Compared to the fantastical seal it was rather ordinary.

"What does it mean, it awaits my owl?" Harry asked.

"Ah, the magical community uses owl's to deliver letters. Messy, yes, but far more reliable than you would think." Harry stared at Dumbledore. "In this case I will accept a verbal answer, as we do not have time to go to the forest and catch an owl. Will you accept?"

"Y-Yes!" Harry exclaimed. He felt a subtle shift in the air around him, as if something in the grounds had started watching him. "But headmaster, how am I supposed to get all these things?" Harry pointed to the list of books, robes, and other supplies. "I don't have any money."

"Actually Harry, you have quite a bit that your parents left to you. Its time you heard their tale. It begins long ago, with one very gifted student of Hogwarts being seduced by dark, dark magic…"

Dumbledore told Harry of Voldemort and evil wizards. He told him of the desperate struggles of the past generation, though not in too graphic detail, and of how brave his parents had been. Finally he told Harry of the night that his parents had died and Voldemort had disappeared. About how he was famous and how everyone in the wizarding world knew his name and his scar. He told Harry that he was the Boy Who Lived.

By the end of the story Harry was crying again. He had never heard anything about his parents and to hear about how they had died was too much for him. He desperately wanted to know more about them, but not today. He had had enough shocks today.

Dumbledore seemed to understand. "We will talk more about the past another day, but for now we should head inside. It is growing late, and the house elves will soon be serving dinner."

Harry wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. He and Dumbledore stood and walked back to Hogwarts.

Author's Note: This is my first fic, so I would appreciate any reviews and advice on how to make it better. I'l get to more interesting things soon, I promise, but I tried to throw one or two important details into this chapter. I decided against writing out Dumbledore's story of the war and James/Lily's deaths because we all know it already. And he doesn't know what I've changed, now does he?

Next Chapter: A hat!