The Longest Road

by Southern Hearts

Rewrite of Shadowed Past. AU Harry has lived most of his life between an orphanage and the streets, this all changes when he's almost the victim of a Dementor attack and his past is finally revealed. But can a broken family be put back together after so many years apart?

2. Chapter 2

You've been up and down, down

You've been low, low, low

Troubled seas so deep, troubled home no sleep

You've been flying so high

Avoiding the road

Pretending to not feel alone

- Vagabond by Mister Wives

Our Little Vagabond

The past of one Harry James Potter could be called tragic by some, unfortunate by others and a 'right darn shame' by a more literal few. Of course, the past of Harry Green might be just as bad, especially as the two were one in the same. Harry, being the unfortunate possessor of this terribly unfair past, didn't know the difference. He had grown up quite unaware of the rather nasty fate he and Harry James Potter shared, for it had been twelve years since he had borne the name. To reiterate, if you asked Harry Green who Harry James Potter was, he could quite honestly tell you that he did not know.

But this of course, would not be the truth.

He laid spread out on his bed admiring the picture in his hand, if you could call it a bed that was. The thin mattress, horribly worn and stale smelling, that separated the twelve-year-old from the ground was hardly what one would call a bed, but it was better than most surfaces he had slept on his life. It was snowing outside, but the shelter had central heating, which was why he liked it for this time of year.

The shelter he partly lived in was one he frequented often, leaving anytime he got wind of Child Services poking around. Any place was better than being sent back to the orphanage he had lived in until running away for the first time at the age of ten.

Harry didn't consider himself to be disadvantaged by his predicament either, he worked and he earned money doing odd jobs for people. Sometimes the begging areas were good too and he had made more than a few friends out here that would let him bunk with them. And he was lucky, very lucky.

It was one of the funny things about Harry. He just always seemed to be able to find things when he needed them. Food, money and even clothes. He'd be walking down a back alley, shivering with cold, only to see someone had thrown out a perfectly good winter coat, just lying on top of the bin, still clean. Or he'd find a twenty-pound note in his backpack when he couldn't recall ever putting it there at all. He even remembered sitting at a bus stop, staring hungrily at the brown paper MacDonald's bag someone was carrying. Suddenly, he'd put it down and walked away, leaving the untouched takeaway meal behind. Harry had run after him, but the man seemed utterly perplexed, telling Harry he must be mistaken.

None of these were particularly odd on their own, but they happened to Harry an awful lot. But then, very odd things tended to happen to him regardless.

So there he lay, looking longingly at the photograph in his hand, the only item and personal possession he had ever owned apart from a stuffed deer. It had been his for as long as he could remember.

It was special. Why? Well, it moved.

Harry smiled as the red haired woman in the hospital gown cooed her baby again, brushed a lock of hair from her face and kissed the newborn's forehead, laughing and smiling as she did. Each action was familiar, recognized. Probably because this was the millionth time he had watched this scene, but each time felt like the first. He turned over the picture, running his finger over the neat, looped handwriting in the corner of the back.

Lily and Harry

31st July 1980

Maternity Ward

St. Mungo's Hospital

Harry sighed and looked back at the photograph again, his eyes scanning the face of the young redhead. She had to be Lily. He guessed that he was the baby. He'd been named for it after all, when they found him the picture had been clasped in his little hand, a stuffed deer in the other. The social workers had tried to find this St. Mungo's Hospital, but apparently no record of the place existed. They thought it was a joke.

They'd tried to remove the picture from Harry, but he never let them. As a babe he'd stare at it all day, oddly comforted by the woman he had been told he referred to as 'Ma,' or 'Mama.'

He cried when he couldn't hold the picture, which was why it was so folded and worn. It was the only thing that calmed him down though, the sight of his mother's young face.

He wondered if she was alive, if she had looked for him. He had her eyes, he wondered if he had his dad's hair, since his wasn't red. Was his father's hair also black, messy and uncontrollable? He wondered what his dad looked like, what they were like. Were they dead, or had they abandoned him? Maybe something terrible had happened and they were forced to give him up? If they were alive, had they forgotten him already? Did they miss him?

Thousands of questions had always shot through his mind like a speeding bullet whenever he thought about his parents. Long ago Harry had learned to push them away and bring himself back to reality, but that didn't stop him from dreaming about it. Turning over onto his side, he placed the photograph gently beside him.

It only moved for him, no one else had ever seen it do so and he had learned from a young age never to mention that it did. Smiling, he removed his duct-taped glasses, lay down on his old pillow and closed his eyes. Briefly his hand came up to brush the messy hair from his forehead, pausing on the small lightning bolt-shaped scar there.

Another mystery, he thought as he sank into a restless sleep.

~HP~

Lily Potter's cheeks puffed out as she sighed tiredly and put on her jacket. She wore plain black pants and a white blouse accompanied by sensible heels and light, natural looking make-up. She brushed through her long red hair, trying to look presentable.

Normal.

She glanced at her watch, it was nearly time for her and Ally, her eleven-year-old daughter, to leave. She knew that the visit was possibly pointless, but the message she'd received from her sister had seemed so strange, so-

Unlike Petunia.

She wished she could put on a better pair of shoes or at least wear a more comfortable top. At the age of thirty-six, Lily was convinced there was no reason she should be dressing in anyway like her older sister. Skirts and blouses she loved, petticoats and frills reminded her too much of how her mother would dress in her later years. An old woman's look; which was exactly how Lily felt about her older sister's dress code.

And she thinks I'm abnormal.

She picked up a photograph on her dressing table and smiled, it was of her, James and little Ally as a toddler, sitting in a park and smiling up at the camera. Lily didn't know what would have happened if Ally had never been born.

It had been difficult at first. James had been angry, so angry when they found out.

The healers had confirmed Lily was into her second trimester, which had floored the young woman. She hadn't thought she was that far along! A month, maybe two, she had thought and even then she hadn't been sure she was pregnant.

Her pregnancy was a difficult one, forcing her to stay in St. Mungo's and even then, Ally had been almost eight weeks premature. The blood loss caused by Voldemort's curse and the magic she had poured into protecting Harry had weakened her considerably. It had made even moving a chore for a long time.

All the while, James divided his time between searching for their son, hunting Death Eaters and sitting by her bedside. He tried not to distress her, but arguments inevitably ensued. Sometimes though, he'd come too tired to even speak and just curled into the bed with her, holding her like he was afraid she'd leave him. More often than not neither one of them could speak, too absorbed in their own feelings of grief and guilt.

And then came this tiny, mewling, red-faced little creature with hazel green eyes and no hair to speak of on her little head. For days, neither one of them could even bear to look at her. How could they? How could this small, spindly thing ever replace the child they had lost? It felt like a betrayal. An awful betrayal of their precious son.

Lily cried most of the time, missing Harry and ashamed for being afraid to love her own daughter. James would just stare at nothing, no expression on his pale face, until he'd force himself to go back out and look for Harry again. They could barely look at each other anymore.

All that was keeping them together at that point, was the obligation they each felt to the tiny life they had created together.

Perhaps they would have broken then, it had been such a close thing.

One day, James sat in Lily's hospital room, staring out the window. Lily was looking dejectedly up at the ceiling; too weak and stressed to muster up a word. Then, there was movement. She looked round to see her husband moving over to the cot that held their infant daughter. She tensed, unsure of what he was doing.

He stared down at the baby for a long time. All was still in the hospital ward outside. Then James bent down and picked up the little bundle, holding her gently to his chest and rocking her. Lily watched in wonder as an expression she hadn't seen since the day they'd lost Harry came into his face.

He looked round and spotted her staring. He walked over and sat at her bedside, turning so that the baby was facing her. Lily shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to look down at the tiny face and feel the rush of guilt again.

"She looks like my mum," James said finally, a small, long forgotten grin appearing on his face, "Don't you think?"

Lily finally caved, no longer able to resist. She looked down at her daughter's face and truly studied it for the first time. She was still too small to have any really identifiable features, but Lily thought she had her deceased mother-in-law's narrow face and wide mouth that always seemed ready to smile.

"Yes," she chocked out, now not able to tear her eyes away, "She – she's beautiful, isn't she?"

He stared at her, eyes watery.

"Yes," he sounded as chocked up as she was, "She is."

Lily tried to smile.

"We're not naming her Euphemia," she said, trying to sound light.

James actually laughed.

"No," he agreed, and said soberly, "What – what about Rose?"

Lily hesitated. She wanted to honour her mother for the sacrifice she had made, but she just couldn't imagine dealing with the pain of calling her daughter Rose.

"Middle name," she said finally, "I just can't-"

She didn't have to finish. Holding the baby with one arm, he used his free hand to gently pat hers.

"Okay, Miss Something Rose Potter still needs a name then," he teased.

"Allison," Lily said finally, "Before we knew Harry was – well I always liked it. It means 'noble,' like James."

James stared at her with so much warmth and love in that moment, Lily burst into tears. He moved in beside her, all the time careful with their little girl, and hugged her close.

"Allison Rose Potter," he said, "I like it."

Lily smiled and bent forward to kiss her daughter's tiny forehead and whisper 'I love you.'

They stayed like that for a while, Lily taking Alison into her own arms so that James could get more comfortable.

"She's going to be an awesome little sister," James said, "Harry's going to be so surprised."

Lily nodded.

Very suddenly, Allison became their hope for a future that had a home full of smiles and warmth. She wanted to see it, that day when both her children tore through the house to fetch their brooms, fought over the last piece of pudding, or tackled James as he came home from work.

"Remus can be godfather this time," she said, "So that both he and Sirius get a turn."

"I'm sure he'd like that," James nodded.

The three Potters held onto each other, happy to exist in their own happy bubble, for just a little while.

She smiled, setting the photograph down and picked up the one positioned beside it. Almost identical, except it showed a laughing one year old Harry Potter sitting up on his dad's shoulders. James was smiling and laughing too, his hazel eyes bright. Lily stood next to them, looking up at Harry adoringly and smiling, James' arm wrapped around her waist.

"Harry," she whispered, that dull pain squeezed her heart again as she put it down, "Another Christmas without you, my beautiful boy."

It was still hard. Thinking of that adorable face, remembering those green eyes and the smile that lit with every moment she spent with him. She closed her own pair, willing away the tears. She would never give up searching, not really. She knew that every time she spied a boy with dark hair or green eyes, her heart would just about burst with hope. She also knew that the disappointment would then make her feel like she was dying inside. How many times had whispers promised her son, only to lead to nothing? How many faces had she seen, children had she talked to, before realizing none could be her son?

She remembered those first few years and all the false reports and imposters she and James had had to deal with. The whole search had created such a huge hype that seemed to bring out crazies from all walks of wizarding and even muggle society. Though perhaps, it was their mistake to offer a reward for any information leading to their son. Lily couldn't even remember the amount of toddlers that had been pushed into her face as an excited individual proclaimed it was Harry.

The search had stretched across the magical and non-magical world for two years before everyone seemed to give up. She remembered having to stand up before a muggle news crew and announce that her son was missing. She remembered the frenzy of reporters and well-wishers.

Unfortunately, in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, most of the Ministry and indeed the muggle authorities' attention had been divided with restoring Britain and capturing the remains of the Death Eaters. Even James hadn't been spared.

Families were still being attacked, the Longbottoms only a few days after Halloween. James had always blamed himself for not getting there sooner.

The confusion had not aided in the hunt for her son, Lily believed it had permanently hindered it.

When she had woken up from the hospital she had been terrified and already grieving, sure beyond anything that she had failed Harry. The blood protection hadn't worked; she had still been alive.

Dumbledore had been the first person she talked to. He had explained everything, sending her into a fit of half relieved, half worry filled tears. He also explained his belief of why Harry was alive and asked her about the spell she had used.

It hadn't been a spell, not exactly. There were just some forces, some deeper magics that no one truly understood. She'd found mentions of it, had asked questions about it, but she hadn't known she could actually do it until that night. Its use was rare and even rarer was cases where it had worked. The handful she could find were not even sure what had happened, much of it being completely accidental. Wizards who had tried to replicate the effect ended up losing their lives without success.

It was a blood ward, a very powerful one. She knew that much, but it was something that couldn't be done without will or sacrifice.

But even she hadn't anticipated its effectiveness.

To repel the Killing Curse…She had never even imagined it would do that. It had been her last option; her final choice and she had thought she would never know it had worked.

But it had not taken her life.

Instead, it had taken the life of her mother, Rose Evans. In her final moments, Rose's thoughts and intentions must have been solely on protecting Harry and she had poured herself into that task. Lily's magic had created the ward, but her mother had perished before her, sealing it around Harry.

They'd been stumped in figuring out why she had survived, until her pregnancy became known. Though Lily had been perfectly willing to sacrifice her life for her son, the choice hadn't been hers alone. Another life lived inside her and it was growing and trying desperately to live. It did not want to die that night. It stubbornly held onto Lily, held onto life with all it could. But Lily's magic held true, seeking out another price to take. If Rose Evans had not been there to sacrifice her own life for her grandson, the blood ward would never have sealed and might have even backfired in unimaginable ways.

She still felt a mix of gratefulness and guilt to this day. She had lost her mother, but she was alive, her daughter was alive and her son was still alive and out there. She just couldn't find him, at least, not magically.

Dumbledore had said he'd tried, but there was something blocking any magical attempts to find Harry. He surmised that maybe the blood ward had something to do with it, but without any previous precedent to study, he could not be sure. Thus, their search continued.

James' reaction to finding out his wife had tried to sacrifice her life that night had not been good.

She was lying on her hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling too numb to move. Her eyes stung with unshed tears and she felt like there was a gaping hole in her heart. The healers had managed to heal all the cuts on her body without even a scar, but her sudden loss of blood and magic had left her weakened.

"Lily?"

She turned over at the soft voice by her side. She hadn't even heard him approach. She found herself staring into the tired and hurt eyes of her husband. He had been almost happy a few hours ago when she had first woken up and they had spent a good hour just hugging each other and grieving their loss, before James had been drawn away to help with the search again. They hadn't really spoken, but it seemed like he wanted to do so now.

"Dumbledore told me about the blood ward," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Her stomach seemed to drop. Her husband, for all the charm he could lay on when he wanted to, was notorious for his lack of tact. If something was bothering James, there was no beating around the bush about it.

She didn't have the energy to scold him.

"Why?" she could see tears gathering in his eyes, "You told Dumbledore but you didn't…Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I don't-" she struggled to sit up and he was by her side immediately, helping her into a more comfortable position. She nodded to him gratefully before she continued, "I don't know…It was only meant as a last resort and I didn't want you to worry I would ever use it."

"But you did use it," he shook his head, "You almost died and now I find out you were trying to will it that way? Lily, do you have any idea what I would have done if I had lost both of you?"

"James-" she started, but he cut her off, anger dancing in his eyes.

"No Lily," he said forcefully, "You should have told me. If you were even thinking of using that, even as a last resort, you should have told me. You're my wife, Harry is our son and the decision to resort to-to that kind of magic should have been made together."

"I couldn't," she was sobbing now, "Ever since that awful prophecy was made you've been taking everything on yourself! It's been like you think you're to blame for it all. I couldn't put another burden on you James, I just couldn't…"

She gasped a little when his arms went around her, pulling her tightly against his chest. He was sitting on the bed beside her, wrapped up around her, his chest heaving with suppressed tears. She pulled him in to her too, needing to feel his warmth, needing to know he was beside her.

"Its no burden," James assured her, speaking into her ear so she couldn't see his face, "You're my world Lils, you and Harry. What you did saved his life and I can never be mad at you for that… But you lied to me and I just can't- I just can't get the image of you lying on the ground, covered in all that blood out of my head. I thought you were gone! All I wanted to do was lie down and die right next to you."

She stiffened and started crying, heaving as the heart breaking sobs left her body. All the time James held her. Eventually, her cries died down and he drew back from her, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"No more secrets between us, 'kay?" he murmured, his gaze serious, "And you're not allowed to scare me like that. Ever."

She nodded miserably.

"I'm sorry!"

"For such a smart witch, you sure don't think," he grumbled softly.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, "I'm sorry."

He sighed tiredly, leaning his forehead on hers.

"I know," then, with a spark of the old James Potter in his eyes, he added, "But if you ever do it again, I'm sic'ing Padfoot on you."

She let out a bitter chuckle, which was quickly enveloped by another hiccup. She tried to smile, but there was something missing from James' gaze that made her heart skip a beat. She could see all the love and pain in there, but something very important was missing, something she had taken for granted.

Trust.

She had lost some of her husband's trust that night and she knew it was going to be a long road getting it back again. If she could at all.

A few hours later, the healer came in to tell her she was pregnant.

Memories had a funny way of sneaking up on you and reminding you of all the guilt and pain you felt in that moment. Lily wished she could let it go, but even all these years later, she still felt terrible about it. Eventually, she had regained James' trust, but it had been a hard, uphill struggle for both of them.

Over eleven years were taking their toll, over eleven years of searching and finding nothing.

But how could she ever give up?

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, turning away from the picture and blinking away the growing sting in her eyes.

"Ally!" she called, "Its time to go!"

A skinny, dark haired child with big, hazel green eyes and a narrow face appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a Puddlemere United Quidditch jumper and jeans, her hands buried deep inside her pockets. She watched her mother expectantly, shuffling her feet about.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To see your Aunt Petunia," Lily tried to keep the irritation over the prospect out of her voice, "I don't think you'll remember her, you met her when you very small."

Ally scrounged up her nose in thought.

"Isn't she the one Dad calls the 'Old Nag?'"

Lily closed her eyes in frustration, silently thinking of ways to repay her husband for this later.

"Just grab your coat," she sighed.

~HP~

"Harry! Harry wake up! You need to get going!"

Harry dragged himself from the vestiges of sleep, feeling someone shaking him. It was Robin, an older man with sad drooping eyes who tended to look after the younger strays and runaways. He was usually the one who warned them when Child Services was making a sweep.

Harry didn't pause to argue. He knew the drill. He rushed out of bed, grabbed his backpack and his coat, shoved his cap on his head and ran.

"Thanks!" he called over his shoulder and shoved the window at the end of the corridor open to escape through.

He stumbled through into heavy snow. It was still early morning and everything around him was white. He gasped as the cold suddenly hit him, but didn't stop, darting out into the street and disappearing from sight.

He might as well get an early start to the day. He headed towards one of the local soup kitchens for some breakfast and then caught a bus to Little Whinging, Surrey.

The reason he was headed there was to take a job. Harry tended to travel the suburban neighborhoods, offering to shovel out driveways and finish odd jobs for a tenner or so. He'd even had a paper round in one village for a while, before people started asking questions. Most people were very obliging, but some shut the door in his face and the odd one actually asked to speak to his parents. The third type he quickly avoided.

But one Mrs. Dursley had approached him as he was shoveling snow out from her neighbour's garden, offering him a whole fifty pounds to sort out her garden shed for her. She said they needed somewhere to hide her 'Dudder's' Christmas presents where he couldn't find them and there just wasn't enough room at the moment.

Harry wondered just how many presents this 'Dudders' was getting.

Still, far be for him to judge, money was money after all.

He'd been a little sure of accepting at first; Mrs. Dursley seemed to be staring at him rather intently when she spoke to him. She was a tall, horse faced woman with a sour, disapproving expression on her face. But fifty whole pounds! How could he say no?

He sat in the bus, glad to have avoided a run in this morning. He tried to avoid situations where he felt trapped or afraid, because that was when something else peculiar would sometimes happen.

An Incident.

Incidents were what he called the unexplainable episodes when he was in one place and then very suddenly found himself somewhere else entirely, with no idea how he had gotten there. All he would remember was a funny, dragging sensation in his gut and a feeling like every part of his body was being constricted. He hated it. He'd arrive, gasping for breath and terrified someone had seen him suddenly appearing.

He found that it usually happened when he was scared. Like the time he was running away from a policeman and ended up on the other side of London in a second. All he had wanted was to get away.

And sometimes, it hurt. He'd find a chunk of his hair or a fingernail had been ripped out. He even had a scar on his left arm from where a long, thin piece of his skin had been peeled off. He didn't understand why it happened, or why it only happened sometimes and not others, but it was a very big reason he didn't want another Incident to occur.

As Harry learned from a very early age, these odd things that happened to him meant he was a freak. Enough science fiction movies had told Harry very clearly what happened to people who did things others couldn't explain.

They were imprisoned, studied and experimented on.

Harry wasn't going to let that happen to him, no one was catching him ever again.

When he arrived at Number Four Private Drive, Harry knocked on the door hesitantly. A big, beefy boy answered the door, looking grumpy.

This, Harry thought, must be the infamous 'Dudders.'

Harry forced a smile, introduced himself and asked to see Mrs. Dursley. The beefy boy eyed him suspiciously, and then yelled into the house for his mother. After that, it all seemed to go rather smoothly. Mr. Dursley, of course, came by to warn Harry not to 'muck about' with anything and be careful with his tools.

The garden shed was messy, but definitely not cluttered enough to stop someone from hiding a few presents in there. Once again, Harry wondered just how big these Christmas presents were or how many there were.

"She was probably just exaggerating," he mused to himself, sure that no one was that spoiled.

It was a cold, but fresh day. Harry got to work quickly, eager to finish and find somewhere warm to stay for the rest of the day. At least he'd have a little extra spending money for a hot meal. His mouth watered and he occupied his mind from the tedious task by deciding what he wanted for dinner that night.

~HP~

At half past twelve, Lily and Ally arrived at Petunia's home, stepping briskly through the snow. Ally kept a hold of her mother's hand, seeming unsure about the whole trip. Her mother put on a brave smile as she knocked on the door and they were both led into the house. Ally was introduced to her cousin; an event neither party seemed pleased with and encouraged to go play, leaving the two sisters alone in the sitting room.

Lily took the seat that was offered to her, it was the first time in a long time that the two had spoken face to face. Since their mother's funeral, things had been especially difficult. Lily remembered that day vividly, the sadness and the despair.

"Its your fault they're dead," her sister had screeched, "Just like dad, she died because of your freakishness! Your stupid world!"

Lily bit her lip, watching Petunia carefully; she sat very stiffly, trying to avoid looking at Lily. Finally she sighed and started to speak.

"How has your-your family been?" she started, clearly trying to keep her voice steady.

"Fine," said Lily, clearly surprised by her sister's sudden change in demeanor, "Ally's starting school next year and James just got a new promotion. How are Dudley and Vernon? Does he still work for that drill company?"

"Yes," said Petunia shortly, "He does, worked himself up quite well. Dudley is doing well at school too. He wants to start boxing after Christmas."

"That's good," said Lily, "Its always nice when boys have a sport they enjoy."

"Yes," Petunia agreed stiffly, "He'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

Lily blinked. She knew whom her sister was talking about and she nodded, her throat closing up a little at the mention.

"Twelve," she said softly, biting on her lower lip. Petunia sighed.

"I don't like you," she said slowly, "I don't understand or trust your world. I've never been happy with your choice of husband, I don't agree with what you became when you went to that school-"

"Petunia-"

"Let me finish!" the older woman snapped, "I still blame you, Lily, for mum and dad's deaths, for their favoritism of you and for the fact that they just loved to have something as freakish as a witch in the family."

Lily could feel her anger growing, she started to rise, but Petunia raised a hand to stop her.

"Whatever I think of you, Lily," she said finally, "I would not wish on any mother to lose her child like you did."

Lily stopped in shock, staring at her sister. Surely she had misheard, but did Petunia actually just say something…comforting?

"When I first saw him, I wasn't sure," she said, taking a deep breath, "But – but Lily he has your eyes. He has your eyes and he looks exactly like that man you married. I don't know if its him, but I thought it best you check for yourself."

"What are you talking about?" Lily frowned.

"There's a boy cleaning out my garden shed," Petunia looked distinctly uncomfortable, "I think he's your son."

Lily stared.

"W-what?" she exclaimed.

That was when Vernon started yelling.

~HP~

Harry's peaceful reverie was interrupted by voices.

"But Dad!" it was Dudders, "I don't want to make a snow man. And certainly not with her!"

"Come now Dudley," Mr. Dursley was saying, "It just for a little while. I have an important business call and I can't have any distractions. I'll be right in the house if you need me. And you, behave yourself, I'll have none of that…freakishness on my property."

A younger, female voice responded.

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

There was the sound of the back door closing.

"Well I can see why Dad found him so funny," the girl remarked after a few minutes of silence had passed.

"What do you mean by that?" Dudley said angrily, "You say anything bad about Dad, I'll make you sorry!"

The girl said something else, but her voice was too low for Harry to hear. He ignored it and carried on working, reaching up to shift a box off a shelf. He gave a start and nearly dropped it when a rather large, scruffy looking grey rat crawled out from under it.

It did a very funny thing when it came out. It just looked at him, sitting completely still and just looking at him through beady little eyes. Harry felt an odd sensation in his stomach, like the kind you got when you were alone and didn't feel safe because you thought someone was watching nearby. He'd felt it many times in his life and had learned it was always best to trust his gut feeling.

"Shoo!" he said, waving a hand at the rat, "Off with you! I'm cleaning!"

The rat ignored him though, continuing to stare.

Harry wasn't sure what to do, when he heard a cry from outside.

"Let go of me!"

Harry wanted to ignore it at first. Jumping into things had always gotten him into trouble in the past, but the voice sounded genuinely afraid. He set down the box he had been holding, stared sullenly at the rat and walked out of the shed.

He found Dudley twisting a young, dark haired girl's arm behind her back.

"Oi!" he yelled, "Leave her alone!"

Dudley looked surprised for a long moment, and then sent a glare his way.

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

What was Harry going to do about it? Dudley was at least twice his size and could probably knock him into next week. The last time Harry had tried to stand up to some bully hadn't ended very well for him and he's learned quickly that it was best to runaway, especially if he wanted to avoid anything strange happening around him.

But he looked at the teary faced girl and something hot shot through him, making him remember something important.

He really hated bullies.

"I said, let her go!" he snarled, moving forward to break them apart.

What he didn't expect was for Dudley to let go of the girl and grab him! One of his meaty hands clenched around Harry's arm like a metal vice, squeezing painfully.

"You're gonna pay for-" he started.

But Harry didn't give him a chance.

He kicked Dudley hard in the stomach, knocking the wind from him. The big boy doubled over, wheezing, but didn't release Harry. He looked up, blue eyes bulging with rage. Again, Harry didn't hesitate; he swung a punch at the larger boy's face, his fist coming into contact with his nose. There was a sickening crack and Dudley stumbled backwards, holding his broken nose as blood gushed out.

He stared at Harry, shocked and then started to wail.

Almost immediately, the back door crashed open and Vernon Dursley thundered out, his face turning purple with rage.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" he looked from Dudley to Harry, "YOU! HOW DARE YOU!"

Now Harry was in trouble. Dudley was a big guy, but Mr. Dursley was a giant in comparison and Harry knew there was no chance against that.

He turned and ran, reaching the garden gate and fumbling with the catch, hoping against hope that it wouldn't give the man the opportunity to catch him. He heard a thump and dared to look round.

The girl had dived at her uncle's legs, grabbing him around the left calf and causing him to trip face first into the snow. From somewhere in the house Harry could faintly hear Mrs. Dursley screaming in confusion. The little girl looked up and stared at Harry, frowning at his hesitation.

"Go!" she cried, "What in Merlin's name are you waiting for? Go!"

Not questioning her direction or her odd reference to a mythical wizard, Harry shoved the gate open. As he ran, too caught up in the drive to get away, he didn't hear a woman crying out his name or the shouting match that commenced in the Dursley's back garden.

All he could think really was, so much for that fifty pounds.

~HP~

Peter Pettigrew snuck away as soon as he recognized Lily Potter coming out of the Dursley's home. Having been on the run for close to twelve years, Pettigrew had learned the best places to go. He'd stayed with a wizarding family for a time, until they started to get suspicious by how long their common garden rat was living. Then he'd circulated his time between different locations, always as a rat. The Dursley's garden shed was one of his most frequent haunts in the winter, where he had been able to make himself a very comfortable nest on one of the top shelves. The strain between Lily and Petunia meant it was one of the last places in the world anyone would look for him.

So imagine his surprise when none other than a little boy who looked remarkably like his old friend James Potter had disturbed his rest. A James Potter look alike who stared at him with Lily's very distinctive bright green eyes.

The anger and disappointment of a decade had hit Peter all at once. If it weren't for this boy he would be great right now! Not living off scraps and in garden sheds like nothing.

He hated this boy!

It had been too close, much too close to Lily finding her son. He could only be thankful that oaf of a muggle had caused a disturbance. He wanted the Mudblood bitch to suffer and he wanted his so-called friends to suffer. He wanted all of them to suffer!

He'd deal with Harry himself. Yes, that was it! He'd deal with the runt himself! The stupid boy who had taken his future from him, the boy who had killed his master and set Peter's friends against him.

And maybe if Harry Potter were permanently gone, everything would be okay again! But killing him would be too good for the brat; no he wanted James and Lily to hurt. To have Harry back, but never truly have him. Yes, yes! That was it! And she would help him do it. She had helped him before, after all.

Years of hiding and self-pity had taken their toll on Peter Pettigrew, in the worst way possible.

Realizing it was too difficult to move in the snow as a rat, Peter transformed, no longer caring who saw him. He had plans to make after all and a boy to destroy.

~HP~

"James! James!"

James Potter looked up wearily from his desk, his hazel eyes going squint from the mountain of paper work he had just shifted through. Damn Frank Longbottom and his tactlessness, he had become as bad as Mad Eye in the last few years.

"What is it Sirius?" he asked, fighting back a yawn.

"Message from one of Dumbledore's spies," the dog animagus said hurriedly, "She sighted Pettigrew in Little Whinging!"

"What?!" James roared, rearing to his feet, "When?!"

"Half an hour ago," Sirius had a manic kind of smile on his face, "James, if we hurry-"

"Lily and Ally were going to see Petunia today!" James, yelled, already out from behind his desk, "We're going now!"

Sirius paled, his grey eyes growing wide as he followed his partner out. James barked orders to one of the Aurors as he passed.

"Higgins!" he called over his shoulder, "You're in charge until I get back! Call Longbottom and Burrows back in, tell them to stand by in case we need back up. Wait for my Patronus!"

"Yes Acting Chief!" Higgins saluted.

James bit back a sigh. With Moody threatening to retire yet again, he'd been moved up to temporarily act as Head Auror until things settled down. It should be Frank Longbottom, who had far more seniority that James, but the man had become too unpredictable as of late, often having to be reined in.

Lucky James, he'd been given the most annoying job in history, dealing with Frank Longbottom.

The two old friends, now partners, set out to an Apparition point, their black robes flying out behind them. James was almost running. They'd been after Pettigrew for so long now without success, this was the first bit of news they'd had about him in years.

"Sir! Sir!"

james stopped, seeing one of the secretaries, Sarah he thought her name was, chasing after him.

"Sir! You're wife just sent a message for you! She said it was urgent!"

So maybe Lily had seen Pettigrew too, he mused and nodded.

"Tell her I'm already on it," he said, "And I don't have a moment to lose!"

"But-" she started.

Too late, James was already gone.

~HP~

Harry had finally stopped running, ducking into a service tunnel to find some shelter from the cold. He sat down, panting hard and took off his cap to run a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. What had he been thinking?

So much for a hot meal of his choice tonight.

As though bidden, Harry's stomach gave a growl. He reached over and dug into his backpack for the half bag of crisps he's been saving. Lucky for him, Harry never took off his backpack when he was out, which held his only possessions in it. As he munched on the cheesy flavoured crisps, he thought back to what happened and reminded himself to scratch Little Whinging off his list of okay neighbourhoods.

By the time he had finished, he saw it was snowing again outside the tunnel. With a sigh, he sat back down, huddling up on himself to keep warm. He took out the picture of his mother again, staring at her while he waited for the worst of it to pass. He closed his eyes, summoning his imagination to take him somewhere else entirely, so that just for a little while, he could pretend to not feel so alone.

Harry dint know how much time passed, only that the short winter day was growing dark when he heard someone call his name. His head snapped up and he saw a man walking towards him. He was short, not much taller than Harry, had grubby looking skin, watery eyes and pointed nose. His hair was colourless and balding and his clothes were old a tattered. He was smiling at Harry as he approached.

Harry felt his stomach squirm and rushed to his feet, stuffing his picture back in the brim of his cap and shoving it on his head.

"Harry, Harry," the man's voice was squeaky, like a mouse, "Its okay, I'm a friend."

The already cold air seemed to drop a few degrees as the younger boy realized there were odd-looking figures gliding towards them from one of the tunnel's entrances. They were taller than anyone Harry had ever seemed, dressed in long black cloaks that slithered over the concrete ground as they moved.

"How do you know my name?" Harry asked, backing away.

"I know a lot about you," the man sneered, "Why don't you come closer so I can tell you?"

But the warning bells were ringing in Harry's head. He turned and ran.

"Foolish boy!" he heard the man yell, "After him! Take him! He's yours!"

Harry shivered, feeling a dark cloud moving over him. He looked down the tunnel and saw the figures moving towards him. He reached the stairs when the monsters – for Harry had no other way to describe them – fell upon him. He found he couldn't move, like he had been frozen in place. He heard yells from the other side of the tunnel and a very loud popping sound, followed by an unfamiliar voice letting out a string of swear words. But Harry was only vaguely aware of this, because everything around him was growing darker and colder.

He gasped; it was like ever happy thought he had was being sucked out of him. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Cold, darkness, despair, negative feelings engulfed him, and his ears started ringing. Unwanted memories crashing into him like a sea on the rocks.

Being called a freak. Matron Hilary's sneering face. No one wanted to adopt him. Being teased in school. Freak! Homeless! Unwanted!

"Harry!"

Screaming.

"Leave him alone! He's a child!"

"Avada Kadavra!"

Green light

Nothing.

"Expecto Patronum!" a voice yelled behind him. A silvery mass charged off in front of Harry, chasing the hooded monsters away. Harry blinked. The silvery light engulfed the entire tunnel for a moment and then it was gone. They were all gone.

"You alright kid?" came the voice again, Harry looked up into the strikingly grey eyes of a tall man with long, dark hair and a rather elegant look about him. He offered Harry a hand up, which he accepted gratefully.

"I-I'm fine," Harry said shakily, "W-what were those things? That silver light too, I-"

"Not important," the man said quickly, handing Harry something, "It's chocolate, it will help. Eat."

Harry hesitated, but after seeing the man put a piece into his own mouth, Harry mimicked him and found he immediately felt warmer inside. He gave the man a weak smile.

"That's some chocolate," he said, "Thanks."

The man grinned back gently.

"You're most welcome."

Harry nodded, realizing it was dark already.

"I'd better get going," he said, "I have a bus to catch."

The man frowned.

"I could walk you home?" he offered.

Harry blanched.

"No, no!" he said quickly, "I can take care of myself, thanks."

The man nodded and sighed. He drew up a small stick and pointed it at Harry's head. Harry blinked in surprise, not knowing how to react.

"Sorry about this," said the man sadly, "Oblivi-"

He stopped. A creeping cold had come upon them again, the man's eyes widened and he visibly paled. Harry turned in the direction the man was staring. At least five of those hooded creatures were headed toward them.

"Expecto Patronum!" the man yelled again, sending the silver light bursting from the stick and chasing after the creatures.

"Run!" he cried, grabbing Harry and pulling him with him. But as they turned around they came face to face with yet another one of the monsters. The screams were starting in Harry's ears again, the man raised he stick to send another light, but the monster was too quick. It hit him, sending him against a wall and knocking him unconscious. The thing then turned to Harry. He didn't think he'd ever been more terrified in his life.

He looked for a weapon. Anything he could use to drive it away. He spotted the stick, it was right near him, moving as quickly as he dared he bent down and grabbed it. He pointed it at the monster, nothing happened.

Darkness began to encroach in on his vision. He stumbled back, falling over the man's unconscious form. The monster glided closer to him and he felt like everything was being sucked out of him. All happiness, all joy and hope, all life.

He vaguely heard a groan.

The man was still awake! Strength surged through Harry and he threw himself over him, squeezing his eyes shut. This man had tried to help him and he couldn't leave him! He had to save them both, somehow… If there was ever a time for an Incident to happen, now was it.

We have to escape! He cried in his head, take us away! Take us away! Away! Away! Away!

The monsters were getting closer and closer.

Harry's very being shrunk and expanded all at once. Everything constricted and he couldn't breathe. He kept a tight hold of the man, burying his hands into his robes as he felt the awful dragging sensation take hold. He heard a deafening crack and there was nothing but darkness.

~HP~

A/N: So, I've taken out the whole 'Chamber of Secrets' thing, because the only reason it existed was 1) me inserting too many canon things into an AU and 2) my own teenage assertion that there must be a pairing in everything I write. Since my main character is a prepubescent boy, we're not going to be worrying about that at this point. That being said, given the amount of Ginny-haters I had the first time round, I should probably warn you that I love the Weasleys, all of them, even the ones that are occasionally annoying. So if you are a Weasley-basher of any kind, this story might not be your cup of tea.

I also scrapped Harry performing a Patronus, as many of you pointed out in the original it just wasn't realistic. However, we do know from the canon that Harry once transported himself onto a roof to escape Dudley and could never figure out how he did it. From the onset of this story I have Harry transporting himself to escape danger. Therefore, for the purpose of this AU, we will assume that Harry's bouts of accidental magic mainly presents as a kind of uncontrolled Apparition in times of great stress.

As to shrinking Harry's age down, it was a hard decision, especially because I really liked the dynamic between Ally and Harry in Shadowed Past. But unfortunately, everything else fit with Harry being younger. I could have kept the age difference, but then my explanation for the blood ward wouldn't really work and I wouldn't be able to send her to Hogwarts at the same time as Harry. The relationship will be a bit different, but hopefully you will all still enjoy it.

I think that's it, except I have also changed the seasons from summer to winter, but you'll see why. From the next chapter I pretty much completely diverge from Shadowed Past, so forget everything you think you know.

Well, you tell me dear readers, better? Worse?

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing on this story, I have been floored by the response! You're all wonderful!