A/N: WOO HOO! Chapter 2, so soon. Don't expect this to be my regular publish rate. I do have school. What do you think? Leave a review.

Harry wept in his cupboard, and tears weren't the only liquid staining his cot. He ached all over. He was accused of frightening his cousin with his "freak friends". He did not have any friends. No one wanted to be friends with him. Well, there were a couple people– one person– who tried. But then there was Dudley.

Dudley terrified everyone. He was the big man in school. Harry would have found that funny if he wasn't crying. The one person who thought they were brave enough to stand up to Dudley. That didn't last long. They got so beaten up by Dudley, that they were forced by their parents to another school. Harry didn't want to think about them. He was sure that they would have continued standing up against Dudley – for him if they were still here. It was better for them to not to be here, not to be his friend.

He wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Nobody deserved that fate. Nobody should be his friend.

An almighty crash shook the very foundations of the house. A furious voice reverberated throughout the heads of all four residents.

"PETUNIA!"

Petunia was scared out of her wits. She had heard this voice before, a long time ago, but it was never like this, never this angry. She now knew why this man was hailed as the most powerful wizard of the twentieth century. His fury manifested itself in the form of magic swirling around the figure, creating a fearsome silhouette, with Dumbledore's long grey hair being lifted by the magic, his robes billowing in the magically induced wind.

Albus did not like to emulate Voldemort, but some of his ideas were brilliant. He used the already swirling magic to lift himself off the ground. He was glad he had practiced, as it is not as easy as it sounds, to keep yourself balanced while lifting yourself up, today especially, he was experiencing some pushback, as if there was some strong wind. Then he practically ripped off a window, and entered the master bedroom of the house.

"SHOW ME WHERE HARRY POTTER IS!"

Next to the jiggling pile of blubber that was Vernon Dursley, Petunia was unable not to do what the most powerful person in the room said. While she was getting out of bed, Dumbledore searched through the memories of Vernon Dursley. It intrigued and shocked Dumbledore that although the man had no mental defenses, he was nearly unable to find any mentions of Harry. It wasn't until in a slight corner he found what was labelled within the man's head as "freaks". When he went down that path, flashes images of every encounter with a wizard the man had, and another subsection, labeled "boy".

Albus was almost too scared to go down that path, but did anyway. A flurry of frightening images, but the most disturbing and recent was of a beating that happened not hours before. This had to be what set off his alarm. Vernon was yelling at the boy, about beating the "freakishness" out of him, so his "freak friends" will not come visiting in the dead of night. Albus felt extremely guilty, but no act should have resulted in violent punishment. He saw Vernon whacking a wooden ruler against the boy's head, and all over the freak's body.

Wait, did he just think that?

It was hard to keep yourself sane when within someone else's head, as you are subject to their thought patterns. He wanted to immediately eject himself from this vile mind, but decided to press on a little further. He skipped through the rest of the beating, shuddering at such atrocities.

Ah, here we go, right after the beating. Vernon was standing proudly, as if he was a conquering hero over a vanquished foe. And that foe was on all fours, upon the kitchen floor, wiping his own blood and tears, while still adding to the pool.

Albus was enraged, how could they do this to a child?! This was inhumane! They needed to take to court, or Azkaban!

He left the man's mind, disgusted. The legilimency had taken less than ten seconds, so he followed Petunia downstairs, hoping to save Harry form these horrible, horrible people that Albus was ashamed that he left him with them all those years ago.

Harry felt a twinge in gut, similar to the one he felt earlier that night, but different. This one was a lot clearer, and there was a definite emotion to it. Anger. He was too exhausted to shut it down, but stretched out, in the same way, searching for this freakishness, trying to push it away. Then something strange happened. It was as if he was looking out of another set of eyes. He say the freakishness. It was swirling around a figure.

Through this set of eyes, light wasn't working, the world appeared to be dark, and Harry struggled to make out the details of the houses around him. The street lights still produced light, but it didn't seem like it hit anything. In fact it appeared to not leave the lamps themselves. Harry could see that they were sources of light, but nothing more. Harry then focused in on the freakishness.

In the dark, almost undefined, world, this was the source of attention. It was white, almost silver, and it appeared to be revolving around a focal point, but it wasn't calm, not, it was moving around irritably, as if it wanted to be let loose, but was being held back by a greater force. From the glimpses he could get beyond the freakishness, he caught sight of the focal point, a dark shape. A person.

Long hair danced in a halo behind the intimidating head with the long pointed hat. The clothes looked strange, long and flowing, much like a dress, but as they danced about in the freakishness' wind, they created a fearsome picture, a picture of power. In his hand he brandished a long thin object, Harry strained to see the details, it looked like a stick, but he wielded like a weapon. But what was most frightening, were the glimpses of the eyes in between the tendrils of freakishness. The eyes were cold, hard, and full of anger. They look like they could a melt a steel beam, and freeze a bonfire in the same look. (If Harry had been more versed in magical creatures, he may have described them as a basilisk's) Harry shuddered, he did not ever want to be under those deadly eyes.

Suddenly, without warning, Harry recoiled back into his own head, much like an elastic band stretched too far. He was pretty sure that some scabbed over wounds began to bleed again, or at least he was aware of his wounds again. The light sounds of Aunt Petunia' feet came above him, and then another's, to light to be Dudley, much less Uncle Vernon, but why was there another person upstairs?

Albus did not know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't Petunia unlocking – as in he could not get out – the cupboard under the stairs. There, lying was a nine year old, staring at him through wide green eyes, congealed blood in his jet black hair, wearing clothes that were evidently too large for him. There was fear in his eyes, as if he expected punishment.

Harry looked into those sparkling blue eyes, that were trying to be grandfatherly, but he knew he had seen them before. Only moments before. He wondered what was truly glistening, steel, or ice?


Harry knew this was a chance. A chance he never had before. A chance to get away. He saw how his aunt was acting. She was scared, this man is able to frighten his tormentors. This man could be friend or enemy, but Harry wasn't going to try his luck, he had a chance, he was going to take it. He did not know what he was going to do when he got away, but he knew he needed to. Every person in this house had the ability to seriously harm him. He climbed out of the cupboard, slowly, so as to not give any idea to his plan.

Dumbledore reached out his hand, and in his most kindly, and caring voice, he said, "Harry, you can call me Professor Dumbledore. You are safe now. I can help you." Harry nodded, and stood up straight.

And then he ran.

Straight for the door. Harry Potter may be wearing oversized clothes, may be injured, but he was fast. Petunia did not know how to react, but Dumbledore was quick, pointing his wand at the door, and let fire a simple locking charm. It wouldn't keep out anyone who knew alaharma, but it would stop untrained magic users and muggles.

Harry felt it, the stream of the stuff he called freakishness fly past him. He shut it down, like he did so many other times. It never made it to the door. Harry reached the door, scrambled for the lock, making sure not to forget a single one, as that could cost him, either time or his entire escape.

Dumbledore watched him fiddling with the locks. Had the muggles really ruined him that much as to not trust someone being genuinely nice to him? He knew that Harry would find the door unable to open.

The door opened.

"Harry?" he tentatively called out, as the boy preformed a swift egress from the building.

"Harry?" he repeated just in case the boy had not heard him the first time.

"Harry!" this cry was in desperation.


Harry ran. He had practice doing this. Dudley and his friends were strong, but if they couldn't catch him, he couldn't get hurt. The same principles were in play here. He thought quickly. Harry knew that he couldn't run forever, more likely for another ten minutes. He needed a place to hide immediately, it didn't have to be impossible to find, but it needed to throw off the preliminary search parties. When the all clear was given, he needed a more permanent solution. He'll figure that bit out later.

Dumbledore needed to find Harry. Also he needed to figure out why the locking charm failed. He was sure of his aim, it was a large target no more than ten meters away. How? Why? Albus shook his head. Not now. The course of action that was necessary at the moment was finding the boy. He decided to try a simple tracking spell – the simplest, in fact. "Point me Harry Potter", Albus Dumbledore intoned, wand on palm. The wand began spinning.

Harry felt the all too familiar twinge that indicated something was amiss. He searched for the cause, not searching in a physical sense, rather trying to figure out what part of his body was the closest to the source. He was trying to figure out what shape this one took. It was gentle, almost too gentle to feel, but it appeared to be a string attached to his abdomen. He mentally forced it away, wanting no part of its implications.

The wand continued to spin, slower now, it slowed to a stop, this was unusual. It should stop abruptly or point in a general direction then sway. It shouldn't stop spinning. Was his wand failing? The last two spells he had cast with it had not succeeded. Now that he thought about it, neither did his disillusionment nor his conjuring. Curious. He needed a control variable. Muggle science could teach you so much. He levitated a lamp up and down. That seemed to work.

Vernon and Dudley had finally made their way downstairs, and all three Dursleys were standing there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed in shock. They were watching a strange man do impossible things within their house, while he was murmuring about science. They had always prized themselves on a normal lifestyle, but this most definitely was not one.

Harry vaulted over the fence. This was a common shortcut to the park, he usually went there, but unless they sent Dudley after him, they wouldn't know where he was going. If they did, they would still have a hard time finding him, because Dudley's gang had not found this hiding spot yet. Along the borders of the park were clusters of trees, quite close together, and Harry started to climb one of them.

Testing completed, Dumbledore had proof that his wand worked, so he tried a more complex tracking spell, it should give an arrow and tell him exactly how far away the target was. He performed the intricate wand motions, and carefully annunciated the syllables, making sure to feel the magic leaving him. He was sure the spell was completed.

As he was climbing the tree, he realized the next assault was coming – and it was a big one. It wasn't here yet, but the shockwaves projected its approximate location. Harry tried to detect where it was, with every pore of his skin, and wanted to get as close as possible to the source, to prevent it from reaching him. That's when he slipped back into the other set of eyes. The park was black, the shapes of the trees almost indeterminable against the ground. He saw it. It was black too, but the details were emphasized in dark blue.

Where the last attack had been a string, no thicker than a spider's web, these were ropes, three of them and reaching out to get him. On the end of each rope were wicked looking barbs. Harry felt that they would not let go once they took hold of him.

He focused himself feeling the specific wavelengths of one of the ropes, and he's not quite sure how he did it, but he sent out a corresponding signal that negated the rope. There were still two more, and they were closer than ever, and Harry didn't have time to do it again. He was still in the dark set of eyes, so he couldn't move his body, but maybe he could run interference here?

Harry tried to move. He couldn't without being in his body, he has no physical contact with the outside world, and that means he cannot push off things, and therefore move. What if he looked at it from a different angle? He can't see them in the real world, but he can see them in this one. They only exist in this form in this world. If they were ropes, couldn't he cut them in this world?

Now how world he get a tool into this world though, just by imagining the ropes would be cut? No he would need a sharp object. What's a sharp object? A sword! He quickly imagined a sword cutting the ropes, but nothing happened. His gut told him this would work, and he wasn't one to disagree with his gut. So he concentrated, on every detail the sword had. The bejeweled hilt, to the long shining blade, imagined its weight, exactly where to cut and the effort it required to cut.

The whiplash of returning to his head occurred again. He was pretty sure he did it, but it took a lot out of him. He was tired. He climbed up into the tree, got comfortable between three branches and fell asleep.

Like it? Let me know. Leave a review. Oh, and I set a limit for myself. there is going to be no chapter less than 2,000 words. Do you guys like that?