Harry Potter blinked and forced his eyes to stay open. His arm felt weirdly heavy, and his sheets smelt strangely clean. Sunlight was streaming in from his usually-blocked window, and...his floor seemed clear of mess. He sat up slowly and looked around at the repaired furniture and glassware. He blinked again, confused. Then he spotted Dumbledore.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter."

He scooted backwards, away from the old man, who was smiling at him benignly. Emerald eyes widened, and loose objects around the room started rattling, shaking. Dumbledore's smile dimmed as he held his hands out imploringly.

"Harry, calm down," Dumbledore murmured. It seemed to have the opposite of his intended effect. Objects began rising around the room as Harry's breath quickened. Dumbledore stood up, and the objects started flying.

"Harry!" he said sharply. Harry screamed. The objects started hurtling towards Dumbledore, who took an alarm clock to the head before he scampered rather ungracefully out of the room, slamming the door shut. He listened, gut clenching, as Harry's screams turned into mournful howls and wails, before being overtaken by sobs.

"Ah, Harry..." he sighed sadly. The poor boy had too much on his shoulders at this age. He faced the door and locked it from the outside with a powerful locking charm before walking downstairs. He wandered into the kitchen.

He looked at the small family huddled in the corner, holding various implements of self-defense. For a while, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the clock ticking. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in thought. Surely something had happened to cause Harry to become so frightened, so...insane...

"What did you do? I was under the impression that this was a nice caring family, but that," he said, pointing upstairs, "is not the result of a decent upbringing. What did you do?"

"We did nothing that the little fr...brat didn't deserve," Vernon said nastily, tripping over the word 'freak'. Even Vernon knew not to use that word in front of this man. Dumbledore absolutely radiated power.

"And what, exactly, did this 'brat' deserve?" asked Dumbledore coldly.

"A lot worse then we gave him!"

"What did you do, Mr. Dursley?" Dumbledore glared at the fat, trembling man in front of him. When there was no response, he let out an explosive sigh. "Stupefy!" he said sharply, his wand suddenly in his hand. Dudley and Petunia both screamed as Vernon fell over, stunned. Dumbledore pulled a vial of clear liquid out of one of his various robe pockets and crouched near the fallen man. He pried his mouth open and carefully tipped three drops into Vernon's mouth. Pressing his wand into Vernon's chest, he murmured 'Enervate', and then stood up, stepping back slightly.

"What did you do?" Petunia cried, looking at her husband's placid face.

"Be silent," Dumbledore said sternly. "Mr. Dursley, I would like you to tell me how you have treated Harry since he has come back from school."

Vernon, still sitting on the floor, staring ahead, took a deep breath. "I made him do everything I told him to do, as is fitting of the little freak." Dumbledore's jaw tightened. "He was made to cook, clean and to go to his room when he wasn't needed. We also took it upon ourselves to remind him of his status as freak of the house – no, the world! – and to make sure he had no delusions of grandeur that his school and headmaster seemed to pile upon him."

"Anything else?" Dumbledore asked, voice calm, face anything but.

"He was beaten when he did something wrong - only way to discipline creatures like him anyway."

"So basically you made him feel like he was worthless?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. He didn't want to think about the possible consequences of putting physical and mental abuse on top of the emotional abuse of Sirius' death and the constant worry of Voldemort.

"You are a filthy excuse for a human, Mr. Dursley, you and your family." Dumbledore gave them all one final glare before heading back up to Harry's room.

He stood outside Harry's room, carefully listening inside. There seemed to be no sound, and Dumbledore wondered if that was good or bad. He opened the scratched door once more and stared around. It looked as if he had one back in time – everything was broken again. He sighed and looked at the bed. Harry was asleep once more, with faint tear tracks evident on his face. Dumbledore walked over to him and took out his wand. Beautiful emerald eyes flashed open and stared sadly up at the old headmaster. His heart broke as he saw the countless emotions roiling through those green orbs – fear and self-recrimination and self-hate and bitter, bitter depression. Sadly he whispered 'Stupefy'.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Molly Weasley pottered around her house, skillfully avoiding her many children. All of them, it seemed, wanted to come home these holidays – Bill, Charlie, everyone...except Percy. The house was very full, and although she sighed continuously about the mess and fuss, Mrs. Weasley loved having her children all together again. She only regretted that they could not be a whole family again. She wondered when Percy would come to his senses.

Earlier that day, she had received a warning from Dumbledore that Harry might unexpectedly need to stay at the Burrow for an unknown period of time. She wondered if she would have enough room for him, even with Percy gone. Bill and Charlie were much bigger then she remembered – and remember she did. Fondly did she recall the days when her two eldest were little babes romping around and about the house. But now she had more important things to think about.

Dumbledore had sounded rather grave when he had departed his message to Mrs. Weasley through the fire. She wondered what the problem was – after all, Dumbledore rarely actually asked Harry if he'd like to go to his best friend's house – he merely gave permission. She sighed thoughtfully and checked into Percy's old room. The two beds she had set up for Ron and Harry in the bigger room were still neatly made, the way she left them. She made her way quickly to the door as she heard a brisk knock.

"Albus!" she greeted the old man cheerily. "Where's --" her question was cut off.

"Quickly, Molly," he said. The kindly woman moved out of the way with a concerned expression on her face. She watched as Dumbledore manouevred a flying bed through the doorway.

"Surely that isn't..." she began, then gasped as she saw Harry's face, looking skeletal and unhealthy. "What on earth has happened to him?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and directed the floating medical bed up the stairs to an empty room – Percy's old one. The door bumped open gently and Dumbledore lifted the young wizard's inert body off the floating bed and onto the soft, stable one. Molly silently walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She hesitantly walked up to the pale boy lying on her bed and look at him critically. His face was sunken, unhealthily white, and his chest was covered with a ripped shirt, a few bruises visible. The rest of his body followed this skeletal pattern. This horrible image brought the saying 'your only skin and bones' to life.

A tear trembled its way along Mrs. Weasley's cheek. It fell onto Harry's hand.

"What...what has happened to him?" she asked again.

"He was ...mistreated, shall we say, at the Dursley's house. They are no where near as sensible or rational as I had thought." He explained, privately wondering how much this mistake would cost him, and the wizarding world. "Where is Ronald?" he asked gently.

"He is out with his brothers and Ginny, playing Quidditch in the field," Molly replied distractedly. Dumbledore nodded and peered out the window absently.

"I assume that you are able to take care of Harry for the remainder of the school holidays?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, certainly!" the good woman replied, almost before Dumbledore had stopped speaking. "You know he is as important to me as Ron or any of my other children are!"

"You are a marvelous woman, Molly," Dumbledore said thankfully, "and I cannot thank you enough for this. I must warn you though, Harry is a little volatile at the moment." He relayed the incident with the Ministry owl, and the official. "When I found him, he had passed out from loss of blood. He had...cut open his own wrists." Molly gasped. "Nothing fatal," Dumbledore hastened to assure her, "but when he finally woke up, he did not appear to recognize me. He has an outburst of magic that usually only happens with young, uncontrolled children." Molly nodded attentively – she knew about children. "This magical outburst caused objects to fly around most harmfully. I am still uncertain of whether it is safe to leave him with anyone, but I am sure of your dedication and practicality." Molly beamed.

"You can leave it to me, Albus. I'm sure you have many other matters to deal with."

"Yes, yes. I must be off now. I will be coming to check up on Harry regularly. Don't hesitate to owl me if necessary," he warned.

"Of course," Molly said, walking the older wizard to the door.

"Goodbye, Albus."

"Goodbye, Molly," he smiled as she shut the door. He sighed and looked up to the window of Percy's room. "Good luck, Harry."

He dissapparated with a small pop.

Author notes:

Well, that certainly took its time. I have forgotten if anyone is even reading this! However, my excuse is...my computer tends to be possessed. I swear! Anyway, hoped you like this new chapter. I plan on making them loooooonger, as 1300 or so words is not really much of a chapter.

Snake