Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!! You make my day and encourage me to write faster!! I hope this chapter is to your satisfaction. It may have a couple of errors because I was only able to give it a quick once-over so…yea… please enjoy!

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What I Learned From Mr. Ollivander

Chapter Two

Nighttime Snacks

It was a little after twelve o'clock at night when young Dudley Dursley woke from his peaceful slumber. He gave a large, shuddering yawn and rolled out of his bed, causing the floorboards to moan and creak in protest. The blond boy squinted carefully around his dark room before he exited it, careful to avoid the many toys scattered around the floor. A loud grumble, originating in the substantial abdominal area of Dudley's body, caused him to grip his stomach and grimace as if he just had the wind knocked out of him. Nothing awakened the small giant at night except for hunger pains. After all, what was the use of getting up to go to the bathroom when you had a pull-up on?

The boy waddled across the hall quickly, intent on reaching the refrigerator, but stopped suddenly, just before his pudgy little toes touched the first stair. His ears easily recognized the whispering tones of his parents. He narrowed his eyes and listened harder, a vein throbbing in his forehead from all the exertion. Dudley enjoyed eavesdropping enormously, because most of the time, his parents were talking about him. When they were talking about him, they were usually also talking about presents… But Dudley grew disappointed when he realized the topic of his parent's clandestine conversation was neither about him, nor presents. It was about the little freak under the stairs.

"…Writhing and screaming like he was possessed…" came Vernon's gruff whisper.

"He's just laying there… sweating and limp… hospital?"

"No!" Vernon said in an increased volume, before whispering again. "Little freak… After everything we've done…costs us money…I won't stand for it!"

Dudley's disappointment transformed into anger as the conversation continued. Why were they so worried about the little runt? He was the one who hadn't had any food since supper. The obese boy frowned and walked down the stairs, becoming even angrier when his parent's failed to notice his presence. He turned toward the cupboard under the stairs and was instantly greeted by his parents' rear ends blocking his view. They were bent over, looking anxiously at Harry Potter.

"I'm hungry!" Dudley announced, smirking when his parents spun around in fear. His attention was diverted, however, when his eyes caught a glimpse of the small boy inside the cupboard.

"Is he dead?" Dudley asked curiously. The freak certainly looked dead. He was as white as a ghost and didn't appear to be breathing.

"No, Diddykins, he's not dead. Why don't you just go upstairs and I'll bring you some-" Petunia started, before Dudley interrupted her.

"Yes he is!" the obese child shouted, face red. "That's what dead people look like on the telly!"

This time, Vernon addressed his son. "Go to your room… Now!"

For a moment Diddykins was speechless, his face turning the color of a grape jolly rancher, his eyes filling with tears. It was silent a few more seconds before--

"YOU HATE ME!!" Dudley screamed, moving his legs back upstairs as fast as his fat would allow. He tripped on the last stair and fell to the ground with the force of an asteroid hitting the Earth. Inside Harry Potter's cupboard, particles of dust and sheet rock scattered around the little boy's head.

Petunia instantly leapt into action, taking the stairs two at a time before reaching Dudley.

"Oh my wittle Duddy is huwt" She cooed, smoothing back his thin blonde hair. "Come on, Mummy will take care of you."

With that Petunia led her son back to his room while Vernon stayed downstairs, watching seven-year old Harry Potter with a furious gleam in his porcine eyes.

--

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was extremely uncomfortable. First off, he had a severe headache and was trembling uncontrollably. The cupboard he was staying in was stiflingly hot. Furthermore, there was something solid and large pressing into his rib cage. Grumbling irritably he reached out a hand and gripped the object that was bruising his side. He was preparing to throw it at the opposite wall when he caught a glimpse of what it was.

A time turner.

Suddenly, he was very confused. It took him a full minute to orient himself enough to remember what he was doing in the cupboard under the stairs, why he was so extraordinarily small, and why he had a time turner in his hand… and then he did remember, and immediately wished he would forget again.

Knowing that Uncle Vernon would take it upon discovery, Harry waved his hand over the time turner and transformed it into a very ordinary pocket-watch, which he quickly hid under a tattered blanket. He yawned afterwards, quite tired once more. His eyelids became heavy.

'Was I really this little when I was eleven?' he thought, closing his eyes once more.

Harry realized that with his mind so foggy, he would never be able to figure anything out at the moment, so he succumbed to darkness once again.

The second time Harry awoke that day, the first thing he saw was Aunt Petunia's horse-like face peering down at him with… concern? Harry shook his head, wondering if the temporal device had somehow addled his brains.

"Oh, good. You're finally awake." She said tartly, resuming her usual look of cool indifference and standing up. "There is a lot of work to be done and I won't allow you to laze about all day."

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry replied automatically, sitting up. He was appalled to find that his arms shook from the effort.

An hour later, Harry was standing on a stool in the kitchen, busy with dishes. As his hands worked at soaping another cup, his viridian eyes wandered out the window and his mind eagerly followed.

He watched the trees outside sway in rhythm to the gusty afternoon. Birds outside chirped merrily as they flittered around the Dursley's yard, their wings haloed in the sun's golden light. Despite the normalcy of the scene, Harry was amazed at the beauty of it. At one point in his life, Harry believed that he would never see the light of day again. Yet here he was, washing dishes in the Dursely's kitchen once more, filled with satisfaction, because he had received a second chance. All thanks to Mr. Ollivander.

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude and affection for the elderly man. During the year of his imprisonment, Mr. Ollivander was the only thing that kept Harry from sinking into the pits of guilt and despair. On the first day of their incarceration, Voldemort's Death Eaters were ordered to bring Harry, Hermione, Luna, Ron, Neville, and Ginny to a large cell where the Dark Lord himself interrogated them, trying to find the location of the Order of the Phoenix and the contents of the prophecy.

"So that we can end it, once and for all." He had explained with a wicked smile.

When no answers were forthcoming, he used the Cruciatus curse on each of them in turn.

"Fine" he stated, after that did not loosen their tongue. "Tell me what I want to know or I will kill Ms. Lovegood."

"Don't you dare tell him!" Luna demanded, looking at all of them fiercely. "He will just kill us all anyway!"

And then Harry remembered watching the spirit disappear from her eyes as Voldemort killed her.

After Harry returned to his cell, he simply laid there on the ground. He was so afraid and so unbearably sad, that he could not even shout or cry. He couldn't do anything.

For a while, everything was silent. Then, Harry heard a voice coming through wall from the adjacent cell, calling his name.

"Whose there?" Harry murmured.

"It's Mr. Ollivander, from the wand shop in Diagon Alley." The voice said.

"What do you want?"

"I want to teach you Occlumency."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. That was certainly not the answer he was expecting.

"…I said--" Mr. Ollivander started to repeat, with slight irritation coloring his tone.

"I know what you said!" Harry interrupted, "But why?"

"Well that is complicated, but I am afraid that Voldemort will extract Order information and the prophecy directly from your mind using Legilimency."

This made Harry sit up, and scoot shakily towards the wall.

"How do you know about the Order and the prophecy?" he asked suspiciously.

"My dear boy, when you are old friends with Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, one learns many things that are not generally well-known."

Harry's brow furrowed, "Why wouldn't Voldemort just use Legilimency to take the information from me now and then kill me? That would be a lot easier."

"Well" the voice said, "He-who-must-not-be-named is nothing if not vindictive and arrogant. I'd assume that he will kill your friends, and then simply get the information from your mind using Legilimency. If only to hurt you."

Harry paled, and then he shook his head.

"No" he choked "I can't let that happen. It's my fault they're here in the first place!"

"Mr. Potter, we do not have enough time for you to have a breakdown! We will learn Occlumency and start wandless magic as soon as possible. It will be imperative to our escape"

"I can't!" Harry sobbed. "Professor Snape tried to teach me Occlumency and I wasn't able to learn it."

"Foolish child" Mr. Ollivander admonished kindly. "There is no use crying over spilled milk. All we can do now is try our very best to set things right."

Wiping sweat off of her forehead, Petunia Dursley glanced at the position of the sun in the sky and then down at her watch.

"Lunchtime!" she chirped, standing up and brushing herself off. The newly planted lilacs smiled up at her from their beds and Petunia was very satisfied with the way they enhanced her garden. She looked over at the neighbor's house with a sneer. They didn't even have a garden. Laughing derisively, she walked inside the house and pulled off her gloves.

She stopped upon reaching the kitchen, and confusion lit her eyes. The boy was standing on the stool, staring out the window with tears streaking across his cheeks, holding a soapy plate in a white-knuckled grip.

"What happened?" Petunia asked, breaking the silence.

Harry gasped and flinched, causing him to fall off the stool and break the plate on the tile floor. Slowly sitting up, the boy took a peek at his hand, which was bleeding where the glass had punctured it.

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry Aunt Petunia" He apologized, when his Aunt didn't say anything.

Petunia's face was deathly pale. "That was my grandmother's china", she whispered.

Harry looked up at her pleadingly but didn't say anything, knowing it wouldn't help.

Abruptly, she looked down at him, fury radiating off her in waves. "Well?" she shrieked, "clean it up and then get in your cupboard! Don't you dare get any blood on the floor!"

"Yes m'am" Harry complied, rising to get the broom. He began to sweep it all up into one pile, expertly ignoring the stinging in his hand. Much worse had happened to him. He wished that she would leave so that he could fix it wandlessly, but she continued to stand there, watching him like a hawk. Scooping up the broken glass and depositing it in the trash can, Harry glanced up at her.

"I promise I didn't mean to." He beseeched.

"That doesn't matter now does it? My china is broken and it cannot be fixed! Go to your cupboard, and don't expect any lunch!"

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry obeyed, walking past her cautiously, expecting a slap. Thankfully none came, and he shut himself inside the dark cupboard.

The cupboard used to be a place where Harry felt like he was safe, but now it just reminded him of his cell in Voldemort's manor. Dark, stifling, and small. It made him extremely uneasy and he began to feel the beginnings of claustrophobia setting in.

Quite suddenly, Harry felt the urge to cry again.

'What is wrong with me? I'm almost sixteen years old in spirit and I feel like I'm five.'

He regarded his hands, which were ridiculously small for an eleven year old. He shook his head 'I can't be eleven yet, Mr. Ollivander must have sent me back too far… But that still doesn't explain why I have the emotions of a younger child. The temporal device must not have completely eradicated my younger spirit, just pushed it aside…'

Frowning pensively, Harry mentally went back through the temporal process. Mr. Ollivander had placed the temporal device directly in front of him and backed away. It started spinning slowly and he had forced it to go faster, until the speed was self-sustaining. The resulting vortex created a rip in time and Harry's natural body disintegrated inside the field, because no living object (like a body) would be able to travel through time alive. His spirit had landed here… but could not remember what happened when the spirits collided. Flashes of panic, pain, and jumbled images were all that Harry could recall.

Harry shrugged and wondered if he could possibly get the information from Nicholas Flamel. He needed to get away from the Dursleys anyway, in all haste. There was nothing for him here. In fact, he could stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days until he could acquire a more permanent residence… There would be plenty of food for him to eat and freedom to do whatever he needed. He could even create a training regiment for himself in order to get stronger and build up stamina. Lord knew he desperately needed it.

A smile lit Harry's face for the first time in a year. His decision was made. He would leave tonight, after the Dursley's fell asleep.