This chapter contains scenes that I did not create. They are from the Harry Potter books and I do not own them.

Chapter 2

Like all good things, the dark bliss came to an end.

Most of the pain was gone and he could think straight for the first time in what seemed like forever, but he felt . . . different. It was like the time all the bones were removed from his arm, and all he was left with was a rubbery replica. His whole body tingled with the post bone vanishing feeling. It wasn't very pleasant to say the least.

I thought death was supposed to be painless, he thought as his vision started to return to him. Blinking, he stared at the wood that formed a cage around him. Where am I?

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" a voice begged from somewhere close.

Oh God, this couldn't be happening. Had he pissed off God in a former life? What had he done to disserve to watch his mother die again?

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . stand aside now," a voice hissed with dark amusement. A thrill of excitement and fear flashed through him at the sound of that voice. Excitement? Where the hell did that come from?

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-" Now he could see her. She stood in front of his crib with her arms stretched wide, as if she could embrace his awaiting fate for him.

"This is my last warning-"

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything-"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

Moving on shaking limbs, he pulled himself to his feet using the bars in front of him. He stood just as a bright flash of green light and a high pitched curse felled his mother.

His cry of anguish came out as a babyish sob, and without giving it permission, his arm reached for her.

And with a sense of déjà vu he stared into red eyes. Oh God, didn't he just do this? Getting hit with the Killing curse once was bad luck, but twice? In the same day? The red eyes seemed to measure him for several long moments.

"Bad boy!" he accused, pointing a stubby finger at the Dark Lord. A smirk curled the man's face.

As he stood there glaring, at the most powerful dark lord to walk on the Earth in a long time, with the fiercest baby glare he could muster, Voldemort brought his wand up between the toddler's eyes. Knowing what was to come; Harry stood his ground and sneered at the man that would be the death of him.

"Avada Kadavra!"

For the second time in what seemed like minutes, green light flew towards him from the yew wand.

Blinding pain.

He screamed as the curse connected with his forehead. Light blossomed in front of his eyes, and he wasn't the only one screaming. Tom Riddle's pain filled cries joined his and together they made a symphony of horror.

A large whirlwind of magic swept through the room as the Dark Lord crumpled to the ground. The manly cries of the wizard faded, but the high shrieks of the baby did not. Harry had been blasted back in his crib and now screamed on his back as the house shuddered. It's going to collapse, he thought as the floor creaked.

For a moment he felt weightless.

With a loud crash, the floor gave and he fell to the kitchen. The body of his mother fell near him as his magic slowed down his fall. Ceiling beams littered the ground all around him and some started to smoke.

Shouts and cries of a voice interrupted his wails of displeasure. About time someone showed up, he thought snidely. A beam near him caught fire. He quieted for a moment before picking up again with more urgent cries for help. Grabbing the closest thing to him, which happened to be a blanket with Harry printed on it, he waited for Hagrid to come.

He didn't have to wait much longer. The sobbing half-giant pushed rubble out of his way to reach the source of the infant cries. Hagrid had big, fat crocodile tears trailing down his bearded face. Snot soaked his mustache, as he reached for Harry with large hands.

"It's okay, Harry." The hell it was. He had just been sent back in time, and witnessed his parents' murder! Harry was lifted up from under the arms and tucked against a broad chest. Not one to complain, he snuggled against his first friend.

Slowly, Hagrid made the journey back outside. They passed both of his parents, and Hagrid firmly covered Harry's face so he didn't catch a glimpse of their bodies. They had just reached the door when the familiar sound of a motorcycle met Harry's sensitive ears.

Sirius.

Gripping his blanket, Harry wiggled against Hagrid's strong grip, and reached for his godfather as soon as he came into view. A much younger looking Sirius, blinked owlishly at the destroyed house. His pale face was a sharp contrast to the night sky. Harry's cries alerted the man to their presence, and with one more blink the man was brought back from his thoughts.

"Give him here, Hagrid. I'm his godfather," Padfoot said in a husky voice.

But Harry didn't get handed to Sirius, and his screaming reached a new high as the two men talked and the bike exchanged hands. He was ignored for the most part. The only indication that they knew he wanted something was the slow rocking motion Hagrid had started. Confusion swept threw him as he was wrapped tighter in his blanket and carried to the bike. No! Padfoot! Sirius ran into the house and disappeared to get his parents out of there before going after Wormtail.

Harry didn't want to leave his godfather, but there was nothing he could do as they took off. Flying into the sky, his wails were drowned out by the roar of the engine, and Hagrid did little more than pat his bottom as they flew in the cold October air.

Huffing in irritation he succumbed to exhaustion.

They were either crashing or landing, but with Hagrid driving it could be hard to tell sometimes. They landed noisily in the middle of the suburbs, and without having to investigate, Harry knew they were in Privet Drive.

Not wanting them to know he was awake, Harry kept his eyes closed and breathing even. For some reason, part of him was wary of letting them know he was awake.

They were greeted by a grandfatherly voice, "Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said while he gently stepped off the bike. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

They leaned over him and he felt their warm breath on his skin. "Is that where-?" whispered McGonagall.

"Yes, he'll have that scar forever," said the Headmaster softly.

Harry struggled to stay awake as they spoke of scars, and he started to drift until he was placed in different arms and loud sobs erupted from Hagrid. A wet whiskery kiss was placed on his face and part of him wanted to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

They spoke quietly after that about unimportant things, and after another moment of silence Harry felt himself being carried forward. And without another word he was placed on the magically cushioned doorstep and a light warming charm was applied to his blanket.

A small envelope was placed near his hand and he automatically reached to grab it as the old wizard, the witch, and the half giant left Privet Drive.

"Vernon!"

Ah, there was the familiar banshee that he had come to know and hate. "Pickme up, you imbeciles," he tried to yell over her, but it only came out as a cry of his own. This really was annoying. What was he going to do if he wasn't able to speak?

A red face entered his line of vision and Harry couldn't stop the raspberry that slipped past his lips, getting spittle on Vernon's new tie. Nor could he stop the childish giggle that followed.

The red face purpled.

The cupboard looked huge. He had always fit in the small closet, due to malnutrition he had always been a small child, but this was ridiculous. Only he could be sent to his cupboard this fast. He hadn't even had a cheerful hello, or maybe and inquiry as to where he came from. No, it was "take that freak and put him someplace I don't have to see him". Seriously, he was just a baby, a slightly demented one at that, but still a baby none the less.

He had stopped his cries soon after being placed in the closet, but he was going to start up again if they didn't do their job soon. Being a baby had many draw backs, and being wet and hungry wasn't fun.

Screams sounded from somewhere upstairs, and the arguing cut off as Petunia hurried upstairs to attend to their spoiled, whale of a son. Heaving a long suffering sigh, Harry sat against the back wall, his blanket stuffed out of sight so that it wouldn't be taken away.

His baby patience was running real low, and it seemed like a life time later that the door was opened and he was lifted out. He didn't even get to leave the hallway. After being placed on a towel, he was quickly changed and a bottle of regular milk, which had been thrown in the microwave, was pushed into his mouth.

He wasn't given much time to complain about the crappy meal, however, and was soon pushed back into the dark cupboard. You could just kill the stupid muggles, a part of him thought. What the hell? Harry didn't hate muggles. But Lord Voldemort does. Damn, now he was hearing voices in his own head. Maybe he wasn't left as unscathed from the torture festival as he thought.

He had to do something; had to find a way to get out of the Dursley's home. But what was a man to do when he was in an infant's body, and it was dangerous to his core to access his magic? It would be another six years before a normal child became more aware of their magic.

He didn't think he could last that long in this house again. No, he knew the Dursleys were only housing him because they were afraid of Dumbledore. But what if they feared him more? He wasn't a normal child, but he wasn't the most capable wizard either. I am, though, said a separate voice in his head.

Shut up voice, he thought back. Something was wrong. He had never grown up with this voice the first time.

Just leave the scheming to me, Potter. His world went black.

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