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Harry Potter and the World of Dinosaurs
By: Tellemicus Sundance
Chapter 2—The Outlander

August 14, 1984
Forbidden Forest

Hagrid was having a bit of a busy time recently. This was a busy time for him and Professor Silvanus Kettleburn since it was the latter half of summer and they were once again preparing the school grounds and creatures for the return of the students. As was becoming ever more common in recent years, Kettleburn had called in Hagrid's help to handle the various creatures. While it was partially because of his size, strength, and naturally good instinct towards all creatures he came across, it was mainly because Kettleburn had once again gotten injured (this time losing three fingers of his left hand) and needed the help.

It was somewhere around midmorning and Hagrid had just finished feeding the thestrals. The massive half-giant was taking a small break of his own, seated just outside his hut while drinking a mug of tea as he munched on some of his homemade desserts. They were starting to get a little stale, so he decided to eat them now instead of just letting them go to waste. It was a bright and sunny day so far, warm and just perfect weather.

'It's a shame more days aren't like this one,' he thought morosely.

A familiar scuttling sound creeping out of the woodlands behind him quickly attracted his attention. Turning on his spot, Hagrid's face split into a wide enough smile that it was easily visible even through his massive black beard and mustache. He knew what that was and there was only one creature that would made that sound and would willingly approach him. Hagrid treasured those times when his old friend visited because they were becoming increasingly rare as he aged.

"Aragog!" Hagrid greeted, setting his food and drink aside as he climbed to his feet. Sweeping his arms outwards as though he wanted to gather up his many-legged friend and give him a bone-crushing hug, he moved forward slightly as the ancient giant spider slowly approached the edge of the forest. "It's been too long, my old friend! How's the wife and kids treating you?"

"Heheheh, you never change, old friend," the Acromantula laughed faintly, stopping just shy of leaving the forest and the canopy's shadowy protect of the blinding sunlight. "And my family is much the same as they have always been, whining and complaining about how little food there is and the Centaurs who regularly attack them for leaving our territory."

"Ah, I'm so sorry about that," Hagrid said sincerely, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Indeed, while the Forbidden Forest was quite large, it wasn't nearly large enough to adequately feed the incredibly large colony of Acromantula that had grown up in it these past few decades. Sadly, there was nothing anyone could do about this problem, aside from…removing a few hundred of the spiders from the forest entirely. And Hagrid would never willingly participate in or condone such an act if he could. "I wish there was something I could do about that."

"I know, old friend," Aragog said quietly. "However, I did not come here today to merely complain about my problems. Something happened last night in the forest. There were dark wizards in our territory last night, Hagrid."

"Dark wizards?!" Hagrid gasped, recoiling in surprise. But then his eyes narrowed as they hardened dangerously. When he spoke, gone was the jovial giant who many knew and loved, replaced by a being who was ready and willing to fight to the death if need be. "What happened? What were they doing there? Do you know who they were?"

"Sadly, I know very little of any of those answers," Aragog stated calmly. "All I know is that some of my children had stumbled upon them while searching for food, and you know how they get when they find such…easy meals."

"…Yes," Hagrid admitted, his face falling somewhat. Acromantula, especially the younger ones, tended to think with their stomachs first and their brains…fourth, if that. If they came across humans in their territory, they would never hesitate to ambush them for the easy meat they could get.

"However," Aragog continued. "There is one piece of information that they told me that was most curious indeed. Apparently these wizards had with them a young child, quite likely kidnapped given the apparent state the boy was in."

"Kidnapped?!" Hagrid repeated, disbelief and alarm in his voice. "What happened? How could they tell? What happened to this 'boy'? They didn't eat him, did they?!"

"Thankfully, they did not," Aragog quickly answered. 'Not for lack of trying though.' "They were more focused on the adults, who were also quite drunk. We could taste a high concentration of your beloved alcohol within their blood...afterwards. But as for the boy, he somehow fell into an underground river and was swept downstream."

Hagrid's mind was whirling from all this information. The idea of drunk dark wizards kidnapping a child, likely for a hefty ransom, was far from surprising. Indeed, that was one of several tactics that Death Eaters loved to use and abuse when they were still in power, as a means of coercion or terror-inducing or both. So, Hagrid didn't spend much time trying to analyze that situation at all. Instead, he focused his attention on the boy' fate. But there was one glaring detail in it that caught him by surprise.

"But there are no 'underground rivers' in the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid couldn't help pointing out. "We would've surely found such a thing years ago while we were exploring for where you could nest, Aragog."

"Yes, that caught me by surprise too," the Acromantula stated. "So much so, that I decided to personally go and visit the site for myself. Based on my own observations, I would guess that the child had apparently used a burst of…accidental magic to create a small cave to hide in from my children. Instead, he accidentally revealed an undiscovered river system. I do not know what happened to the child either. None of my children have ventured down the hole and it's too small for me to investigate myself. But even if I could, I wouldn't enter that cave or river."

"Why not?" Hagrid asked, cocking his head slightly in confusion. "Spiders love dark places, don't they? I'd have thought your children would've loved the chance to explore and see where it goes."

"That is normally true," Aragog said. "But this time is different. We can…feel it drifting upwards from…below. There is an ancient and extremely powerful magic that is…somewhere down there. And we dare not provoke its wrath by invading its domain."

"But what of the child?" Hagrid asked, staring in somewhat disgruntled disbelief.

"Chances are high that he's already dead, my old friend," Aragog said grimly. Then, backing up slightly, he said, "That is all I had to say. It was good to see and speak with you again, Hagrid. But now I must return. Farewell."

"Very well," Hagrid said, bowing his head in farewell. "I hope to see you again soon, old friend." By the time he'd raised his head, Aragog was gone. Turning, he quickly finished off his snack and tea before hurrying to the castle. 'Professor Dumbledore will likely want to hear about this.'

Somewhere far below…

Grunting as he pushed himself upright, he rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes with his free hand while yawning. After a moment of this, he stretched out and let a sigh of relief at feeling his joints pop and loosen up. Rolling onto his feet from the leaf and vine hammock he'd made, he headed over to where a poorly-woven burlap bag was hanging from a broken tree branch and dug out a banana. Eyeing the prominent yellow and black spots it had, he decided it was still ripe enough to be edible and quickly dug into it.

Moving about his little treehouse campsite, the old man collected a few odds and ends as he tidied up the place. 'Damn little chirpers, always rummaging through my things when I'm gone.' Sadly, he couldn't do anything about it. He hunted them down and killed them whenever he could, but the damn things bred and spread like weeds when he did. He'd learned long ago that if he killed too many, there'd be a population explosion of them. If he just let them be, they'd quickly exhaust their favorite food supply and many would be forced to leave for greener fields, though several always stayed behind to harass him. He knew and understood this, but it always so annoying to wake up in the morning to find his home a mess because one or two of the damn chirpers would climb up the tree and break-in while he was gone for the day.

Once done, he returned back to his hammock and grabbed at the thick leathers that had been lying discarded on the floor and started pulling them on. Dark leather pants and an overcoat with bits of wood woven into certain areas like his back, sides, chest, and limbs for added protection. Decorating the leather were bits of long woven hair that had beads, teeth, dried flowers and leaves that were stitched into it. Next he pulled on a thick belt that had three pouches and two daggers hanging from it, a large satchel that hung from his shoulder down to his waist, and an even larger backpack that was filled with arrows, a few rocks, and quite a few sticks that would become arrows soon. Finishing up his look, he pulled a large hood from his overcoat up to cover his long black hair that was slowly turning to white these past few years.

Dressed for the day, he headed out of his little tree hut, balancing upon the narrow limb with practiced ease. Crouching low upon the limb, he scanned the surrounded jungle with careful, trained eyes, searching for lurking predators. His little hut was nestled in the upper reaches of a tree that was almost as tall as ten-story building, thus it afforded him an excellent view of the jungle around him. And while most predators were late-risers, preferring to wait until the sun at least partway above the horizon, not all of them were.

Seeing the area clear and safe for the moment, he leapt out into open air, reaching for one of the large vines that was hanging from a nearby tree. Snagging one, he pulled himself up into a slight swing and landed on a new tree limb. Thus, slowly, he made his way down a well-worn trail that he'd used for many years. It was a long trail, almost three kilometers in length, and far from being a straight line. It circled around a large, rocky pit that was infested with monstrous alligators, skirted along the edge of the pack hunters' territory, and passed by a small collection of fruit trees (which he'd always stop to grab an orange or two) before making a beeline straight for the river.

Reaching the cliff that ran down to the river, he stopped in the last tree overlooking the cliff and grabbed the bucket tied to a vine that he'd left there. Once again surveying the land below and finding it clear, he dropped quietly down to the ground and headed over to the cliff. Carefully, he swung himself over the cliff and dropped himself the six-meter distance to the protruding ledge below. Steadying himself, he turned and threw the bucket off over the ledge towards the river below, maintaining his grip on the vine. He watched with an idle smile as the bucket made a small splash before sinking slightly under the water as it started to drift downriver with the current. Pulling back, he started drawing the now-full bucket of water out of the river with slow but steady movements for minimum spillage.

As he was doing this, something caught his eye. A strange speck of color that was horribly out of place and that he knew hadn't been there yesterday down almost directly below him. Frowning deeply as he stopped pulling his bucket up, he lowered himself down into a crouch to try and better examine what he was seeing. 'What is that?' he wondered. 'It looks like…a…child… A boy?'

Gazing even closer now that he'd sharpened his focus, he realized that he was correct. It was indeed a child, and not a child of the tribe! The strange clothes the child worn were nothing like what the tribe would wear. Even from this distance of fifteen meters, he could easily see that those clothes offered next to no protection at all! And that wasn't even bringing up the gaudy, eye-catching colors! Blue pants and red-white checkered shirt?! He might as well be wearing walking around in neon-orange for all the camouflage those colors would give him.

Without needing to consider his next actions, he quickly finished pulling up his bucket of water, setting it aside before turning and jumping lightly upon the cliff. Digging his fingers and feet into the bare rock, he slid quietly down the slide of the cliff towards the child below. Landing heavily upon the wet sand the child had washed up on, he frowned in annoyance. He hated sand. It was always so hard to move around on, especially when he was in a hurry, because of it was always shifting. No traction. Practically a death sentence to anyone foolish enough to get caught in it!

Kneeling down, he rolled the child over onto its back, noting that his guess had been right. The child was a boy alright. The boy was also alive, breathing in the slow breaths of one currently unconscious or sleeping. Thanks to his short hair, the man could easily see the strangely shaped scar on his forehead as he quickly looked over him for any type of injuries. Aside from a few bruises that were probably caused by his chaotic ride down from the surface, the boy seemed in good health, just unconscious from exhaustion. As he was looking the child over, a glint of metal caught his eye in the waters nearby. Pulling the child fully but carefully out of the water, the old man set upright him against the cliff before turning and cautiously approaching the water. Thankfully, the object that he'd noticed was only an arm's reach away but he was still weary of reaching into the water itself. Alligators and other aquatic hunters were masters of concealment after all.

Taking a breath and a chance, he slowly eased his hand into the water and grasped the metal thing. Being careful to pull it his hand and the object out just as slowly so as to not disturb the water too many and attract undue attention, he smiled in relief as he realized that it was a dagger of some kind. 'Well, at least you were lucky enough to not be banished without any type of protection,' he thought, turning to frown at the child in contemplation. 'But those above haven't banished anyone down here in many generations. Why now? And why a child?'

Shaking his head free of unnecessary thoughts and questions, he quickly stuck the lad's dagger into his belt next to his own. Turning, he quickly but gently picked the child up and laid him across his shoulder. Once the lad was secure, he began the slow climb back to the top of the cliff. As he climbed, he let out a sigh of resignation, 'I guess I'll have to visit Modron's Hearth so the lad can get the help he needs to recover… Ugh, the High Matriarchs are not going to be happy about this.'

August 15, 1984

Petunia Dursley was in a particularly odd place to be, emotionally. Her freaky, unnatural nephew had run away from home and had yet to return. She hadn't at first noticed when it happened, too upset with the lad for breaking the plate when she was trying to teach him to become responsible. Once that mess had been handled, she got distracted with her own normal routine of chores inside and out. Those had taken her much of the day to do and put her a relatively bad mood, weeding the garden that she hated having just to fit in with her neighbors was always so painful on her delicate knees and fingers. By the time she'd finished, she had to go and pick up her dear Dudley from preschool and get started on dinner for when Vernon came home.

It wasn't until she was serving dinner that she first noticed that Harry was missing, his plate and tiny serving of food remaining untouched throughout the meal. Or, at least, untouched until Dudley noticed the free food and grabbed the plate. After finishing up dinner and getting started on the dishes again, she'd called for Harry but again he didn't appear. By then, she'd started getting just a little bit worried, but more so annoyed that he'd dare throw such a temper tantrum as to refuse to show up when she called for him. Searching the house and backyard revealed that he was nowhere to found, he was not even hiding in the attic. It was only then that she realized what must've happened.

On the one hand, she was relieved. He and his freaky magic were finally out of the house and gone! Finally, she and her family might have a normal evening all to themselves without any type of freaky magical 'accident' to happen and force her to quickly cover it up from both him and the neighbors. A chance for her and Vernon to truly lower their guards and relax. But on the other hand, however much she was loathed to admit it, she was worried. Harry was still just a child, barely even four-years-old and completely ignorant to the world around him (admittedly through her and Vernon's doing, but that was beside the point). Who knew what type of trouble he was getting into? Who knew what was happening to him now? Had he been picked up by a random stranger and taken to an orphanage? Had he been found and adopted into a Wizarding family and free her from the burden of raising him?

In the end, she decided that it didn't matter. According to Professor Dumbledore's letter, magical enchantments around the house would ensure his and their protections against any evil wizard or magic that wished them harm. She didn't know where Harry was and wasn't going to waste time and energy searching for him anymore than she already had. If Dumbledore wanted the boy to remain in their household, let the old man deal with the boy. After all, he had magic. Finding one small boy should be a cinch for him!

But even with her mind made up, Petunia still felt a nagging feeling of…worry? No, she wasn't worried about the freak! But, nonetheless, she did quietly admit that there was a strong likelihood of Dumbledore or some other Wizard showing up in the near-future to ask about Harry's whereabouts. So, it was with a heavy heart of resignation that she'd started preparing herself for the inevitable to happen. Surprisingly to her, it had taken nearly two days before her unwanted but expected visitor finally appeared.

Moving to answer the door as she hurriedly wiped her hands clean of dirt, Petunia quickly peeked out of the eyehole. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she saw the warped form of an old man wearing garish robes that sparkled and shifted in unnatural patterns. Biting back her initial reaction, she opened the door and irritably asked, "What do you want, Dumbledore?"

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," the old man greeted, attempting to come off as calm, but also having a noticeable undertone of worry in his voice that even she could pick up on. "I apologize for—"

"I know why you're here!" Petunia snapped, eager to get the old man to leave. "I don't know where the boy is, why he left, or when he'll come back! You want him? Go find him yourself!" She promptly slammed the door shut on the wizard.

But rather than walk away, she waited and listened. After several moments of silence, the old man began mumbling gibberish that she couldn't hear or would've understood. Peeking through the eyehole again, she watched as he, with his back turned to the door, waved him little stick about as it emitted sparks and lights of various colors. Biting her cheek to keep herself from slamming the door open and start berating the man for practicing his unholy powers literally on her doorstep, Petunia watched as the lights and sparked began to coalesce around him, flashing a strong green color, whatever that might've meant. What it did mean clearly reassured the old man as he sagged in obvious relief when he saw that. After a few moments, he waved his wand in an idle gesture and the lights instantly vanished.

A following moment, with a soft pop, he did too and Petunia let out a sigh of relief.

August 16, 1984

He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he'd never felt so comfortable before in his life. The bed he lay in didn't feel like any bed he ever felt before. It was circular, dipping inwards like a bowl somewhat, padded by thick layers of heavy and smelly blankets. Cushions around him and the pillow under him were prickly and lumpy, smelling like grass and sweat. While far from being as dreamily soft and comforting as his cousin's bed, it was still a far cry better than the stiff and hard mat he used in the cupboard. He had never felt so well-rested in his life before.

The second thing he became aware of was the songbirds singing outside and the bustling clatter activity of people nearby. Wood smoke hung in the air like a fragrance. There were a series of clangs and bangs of metal striking metal in a rhythmic manner. Childish laughter and the grumbling of adults as they passed by. He could even hear, very faintly, the thwacking sound of wood striking wood. Far off in the distance, he could the calls, bellows, and cries of numerous animals he didn't recognize. For one eternal moment, he was content, the sounds lulling him into a sense of relaxation.

He was lost in a park. "Well, well, what have we got here?" "Silence, whelp! Crucio!" Pain! Agony! "Luck is truly on our side tonight!" A dark, evil forest. "OOoohhhh! Now that's a plan!" "How about one of the boy's fingers?" Giant spiders attacking! Lights and magic everywhere! Must escape! Falling into a cave. Falling into a river! Falling! FALLING!

With a strangled gasping cry, Harry sat bolt upright, eyes wide and he looked everywhere in fright. What he saw wasn't what his panicked mind was expecting. There was no river. There was no cavern. There were no spiders or scary people or weird bolts of light.

Instead, he found himself looking around a brightly sunlit little room. But it was like no room he'd ever seen before. It looked like some kind of primitive hut with mud bricks, a thatched and timber roof, no furniture beyond the bed he was seated in, a pair of chairs by a roughhewn table, and a series of shelves that had a number of stuff he didn't know or recognize stacked on them. Quickly sweeping the room, he found that the door was shut and that he was alone. That revelation both scared and soothed him. Scared because he didn't know where he was. Soothed because it meant that he wasn't in any immediate danger.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. "Where am I?" His questioned remained unanswered of course, but he felt better speaking them aloud.

Pushing his fear down, he swept the heavy leather bedcovers off him as he swung his feet down upon the compact dirt and stone floor. As he did so, he discovered that his clothes were gone and that he'd been sleeping in the nude. Flushing deeply in embarrassment, he reflexively brought the covers back over himself to hide his dignity as he swept the room again for his clothes. Sadly, it would seem that they were missing, earning a pouting frown on his face. But that soon changed when he noticed that one of the bundles upon a nearby shelf within arm's length that seemed to be a set of brown leather pants and a basic green tunic. He wasted no time and grabbing them and pulling them on. The pants he found were quite loose around his waist and somewhat too long for his short legs. Looking around again, he found some long leather straps nearby where the clothes had been. One strap became a belt that he tied on rather tightly, while the other two were tied around his shins to keep the leggings from falling down around his ankles and feet. Looking around, he tried to find some socks, shoes, or even sandals to pull onto his feet but there didn't seem to be any.

"Aunt Petunia would be very upset," Harry muttered, feeling a little exposed as he became all too aware of just how…dirty and dusty the floor was. After a moment though, he was able to push it out of his mind a little bit. He was accustomed to going without some basic necessities and personal comfort from time to time, so going barefoot didn't trouble as much as it probably should've.

That done, he finally climbed to his feet and started looking around the hut, poking at some of the stuff on the other shelves. There seemed to be small, tied bundles of various plants and flowers, the use of which he didn't know. There were clay pots filled with grain, seeds, and nuts of various kinds. There were even some vegetables and fruits in good condition that were hanging in weird nets from hooks on the walls. Seeing a large red apple, he remembered that he handled eaten anything since breakfast…however long ago it'd been. Thus, his hunger getting the better of his manners and caution, Harry immediately grabbed and bit into it with voracious glee. He finished the apple in record time, setting the core down nearby and grabbing another that he quickly started eating.

Halfway through this apple, his hunger abated and he started chewing more thoughtfully. Turning his attention to the large window that was nestled on the opposite side of the hut as the door, he looked out and gasped, the apple falling from his nerveless hands. Rushing to the window, he stared out the perhaps the most beautiful and lush jungle he'd ever seen before. Trees as tall as buildings, massive stone formations and sheer rocky cliffs, patches of vibrant green ferns, dangling vines as thick as ropes, the sun shining blindingly bright since it was still so low to the horizon. It was an incredible image that no artist or camera could possibly capture in its entirety.

But what truly caught his attention were the distinctive line of animals that were slowly but steadily treading along through a small break in the canopy. Animals that had long and very tall neck with stubby little heads atop, making loud but low bellows not unlike what a whale would sound like.

"Dino…saurs…?" he couldn't help uttering in absolute awe as he continued staring at the picturesque image of the passing herd of Apatosaurs as a couple of winged pterosaurs flew by overhead.

Snapping out of his slight daze, Harry immediately spun around and hurried to the door, lifting the basic latch and rushing outside. What he found outside looked like what would imagine a Dark Ages village might've looked like. The buildings were all a mixture of mudbrick, stone, and poorly carved wooden planks with stone chimneys that were softly releasing little smoke trails. Most of the buildings were simple one-room huts. Though as he turned and started hurrying through the village, ignoring the curious stares of the villagers, he did see a couple of larger buildings that were two or three stories in height and had much better construction than the huts. The village itself seemed to be set into a high crevasse between two cliffs that were overlooking the jungle below. Upon the tops of those cliffs on either side, which from his point-of-view seemed little more than steep and rocky hills, he could see a series of buildings and huts as well.

Seeing a large platform ahead of him, Harry rushed to it, skidding to a halt and leaning heavily upon its railing as he gazed out over the jungle in awe. If he thought the view from his hut was beautiful, it had absolutely nothing on what he was seeing now!

But for as enraptured as he was in the sights, he still was able to notice the low murmur of hushed conversations and whispers behind and around him. Turning his attention from the view, he looked around and saw that everyone within eyesight was staring at him, some more discreetly than others.

"Uh…hi?" he called out, hesitantly.

For some reason, when he said that, many of the people threw vicious glares at him, as though he'd just insulted them on a deeply personal level. Naturally, this just confused and hurt Harry. Though, he was more confused than hurt, being used to such treatment from the Dursleys and their neighbors. Regardless, after a moment of glaring, most of the people turned back to what they were doing earlier.

Now that he was looking, Harry studied the village people with avid interest. Each of them, even the children and teenagers, were all suntanned to varying amounts, some more deeply than others. All of them wore leather pants and tunics similar to what Harry now wore. However, each person had gone about decorating their clothing and themselves in different and interesting ways. Most of the men and quite a few women wore necklaces, wreathes, bracelets, tiaras, and/or headdresses with numerous colored beads and animal teeth tied or woven in. All of the women had long hairs, sometimes braided in simple or intricate ways. By contrast, most of the men had short hair or had shaved their heads, usually as a mohawk. On their faces were unique designs of colored face paint, mostly either greens, browns, black, or yellows. Though, Harry could see a few splashes of blue and red elsewhere, though they were few. And all of them walked around completely barefoot.

Curious, Harry started making his way back into and through the village, stopping to stare or even cautiously approach to watch certain people go about their business with innocent interest. At least, that was his intention.

Approaching one young man who was busy weaving long strips of leather together into something that Harry thought might become a net of some kind, the young boy stared with wide-eyed interest. He had never seen anyone sew before like this before. Aunt Petunia had a sewing machine, but it was loud and very fast. What the man was doing was slow but far more intricately done.

"Wow, that's amazing," he said softly as he drew ever nearer.

As he approached, opening his mouth to ask a question, the man suddenly stopped his stitching and threw a fierce warning glare at Harry.

"Wh-What?" he asked, flinching away from the vehemence of the glare. "I-Is something wrong?"

The man's glare only deepened. Shutting his mouth, Harry froze for a moment before he started cautiously backing away. Once he was six paces away, the man returned to his work, but continued throwing glares at Harry in a continued warning.

Confused and somewhat hurt, Harry turned away, quickly seeing something else that caught his attention further down the main street of the village. It was what looked a carpenter, carving up a piece of wood into something. As Harry moved forward, he watched bemused as the man ground a piece of rough sandstone against the wood, pausing every few strokes to blow the wood dust and chip off. This man spotted Harry even quicker than the weaver had, letting out a threatening bellow as he waved his hand at Harry. As he did so, an invisible force slammed into the boy's abdomen, knocking him both breathless and off his feet. Wheezing, Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and fled off between two nearby buildings.

'What was that?!' he asked himself, dumbfounded and scared.

Emerging on the other side, he found himself by a good-sized field. Still fighting to get his breath back, Harry moved forward and leaned heavily against a fence post, looking out at the field where two women and a group of twelve children about his age were busy picking at some of the plants.

Despite all of the glares and hostility directed towards him, Harry felt a spark of hope ignite in him as he spotted the children. Surely, they wouldn't hate him yet! Not like the men seemed to, at least. Why was everyone being so mean to him? Why didn't anyone answer any of his questions? Still, if the men wouldn't, maybe the women or kids would?

Feeling better now that he got his breath back, Harry knelt through the fence and entered the field. Carefully weaving his way through the rows of plants, Harry paused as he watched the children and women continue their picking. They were picking tomatoes, he realized. Looking down near him, he smiled slightly as he found several large red tomatoes hanging from the plants around him. Kneeling down himself, he carefully picked at several of them, breaking the green, prickly stalks from them. Gathering up a good armful of them, he carefully moved forward towards the woman with the basket.

"Thank you, Havel," the woman was saying to young redhaired girl with three stripes of green on her forehead, smiling graciously as she took the girl's three tomatoes. The redhead smiled happily before turning and hurrying off to pick more. Next up was a blonde boy with one whole side of his face painted red, he gave the woman a bored pout as he dropped three of his own tomatoes into the basket. Despite the boy's bad attitude, the woman still smiled, "Thank you, Niko."

Sensing the approach another child behind her, the woman turned to face Harry, and her smile promptly died on her face. Ignoring this, Harry held out his armful of tomatoes towards her with a small, yearning smile, knowing better now than to try and speak to an adult. Rather than take the tomatoes, the woman turned and called out, "Alright, that's enough now, children. We'll come back for the rest later." Harry's hopes were immediately crushed.

The call caught everyone's attentions. And while the other woman at first seemed confused, that quickly changed to an angry glare when she caught sight of Harry. Together, the woman quickly herded the children out of the field while maintaining their glares upon Harry.

"Nugmet, who's that?" one of the children asked as they all moved.

"Ignore him, Dava," Nugmet hissed softly, but Harry still heard it. "He's an Outlander! Outlanders are not to be trusted!"

Upon hearing that, Harry's eyes started watering as he limply dropped his gathered tomatoes to the group. Turning away so that the retreating group couldn't see his tears, Harry dropped down to his knees and started crying. Why was it that no matter where he meant, no one seemed to like him?! Did he do something bad or wrong to deserve this kind of treatment? Did his parents do something and now he was being punished for their sins? Why? Why? WHY?!

He remained there, crying softly on his knees in the middle of the abandoned field, for the better part of ten minutes. Crying until he had no more tears to cry, although the hurt still remained.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, he heard the soft steps of someone approaching him. Glancing behind him, Harry spotted an old woman, hair white and face lined with deep wrinkles, approaching him slowly with deliberation. Despite the soft look on her face, Harry's eyes immediately flew to the gaudy-looking talisman-bearing walking stick she carried, something that would clearly hurt very much if she decided to use it on him. Quickly climbing to his feet, he backed away a few quick steps in fear.

"Now, now, none of that," the old woman said calmly, her voice surprisingly soothing. "Despite the others in the tribe, I'm not here to hurt you, young one."

"Wh-Wh-Who are you?" Harry asked softly, cautiously. "Wh-Where am I? What's going on here?"

A small but resigned smile crossed her face bitterly as Harry asked his questions fearfully. "All good questions, young one. And you shall have your answers, of that I can promise. However, I and my fellow High Matriarch sisters all have questions of our own for you. So, would you be so kind as to follow me?" She turned slightly, beckoning him to move up to and walk alongside her. "As for who I am, my name is High Matriarch Nadara."

"Matrice-arch?" Harry asked out, confused at the strange word. "What's that?"

"Matriarch," Nadara corrected gently, smiling down at the lad as he started slowly approaching her. "It means that I'm one of the old wise women who lead the tribe." Once he finally drew up alongside her, she gently placed her hand upon his shoulder and started guiding him back towards and through the village.

As they walked through the village, heading up towards one of the large buildings atop the cliff overlooking the village, Harry observed the people again. Though they were still shooting him glares and angry mutters between each other, they were noticeably more subdued than earlier. One look at the angry frown on Nadara's wrinkled face was enough to tell Harry that it was she was keeping them from being more forceful.

"Why do they hate me, Mrs. Nadara?" Harry asked softly, looking up at her pleadingly.

Glancing down at Harry's pleading green eyes, Nadara let out a low sigh. "It's because you're an outlander. You are not of the tribe, not one of us. You are something new, something different. And people hate and fear what they don't understand."

"But…why?" Harry asked, not understanding at all. "I haven't done anything to anyone!"

"Don't worry, young one," Nadara reassured him. "You will understand, one day."

The two continued their trip through the village and up a series of steep stairs in silence. As they reached the largest building, nearly the size and shape of a small church, Harry felt his unease rise substantially at the sight of the large, heavy wooden doors that seemed to loom above him threateningly. Despite his rising fear, Nadara continued to gently prod him forward, easing the large doors open with surprising ease for someone who seemed so old and frail.

Taking a deep breath to clamp his fear down, Harry stepped forward over the threshold and into the Matriarch Hall.

(Author's Note) Okay, I'll admit it. I've recently started playing the game 'Horizon: Zero Dawn' and have been thoroughly enamored by it. That being the case, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm going to include a few elements of that game that I liked into this story.

For those of you old reviewers, you can now clearly see some of the more prominent changes that I've put in. Yes, I do intend to cover at least a little bit of Harry's time learning how to survive in the wilds, so don't worry about that.

For anyone curious, the magic that Dumbledore was performing at the Dursley's was just him checking on the status of the blood wards, which were still quite strong at that time, hence his relief since he thought that meant that Harry wasn't in any true danger just yet.