Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I own...my shoelaces and the piece of gum I'm chewing, just to name a few. But you know what? They're PRETTY shoelaces and it's a TASTY piece of gum, so THERE!

Chapter Two

"Ron? Ron, where are you?"

Harry looked around through the trees. The voice sounded like a little girl's, probably no older than he was. Why would there be kids out in the woods in the middle of the night?

Oh, yeah—he was a kid, too.

As soon as the voice let out the call, the cat scurried away. "Oh," said Harry, "good-bye, then."

"Ron? Is that you?"

The girl's footsteps crunched through the dead leaves and branches in the dirt, racing towards him. "Ron?" she repeated. "Ron…this isn't funny…" she wailed. Finally she reached the clearing. She saw Harry and screamed.

Harry gaped at her. "What's your problem?" he tried to say, but he couldn't be made audible over her scream. "Shut up! They're gonna find us!"

Her eyes grew wide. "You mean the prisoners of Azkaban?"

"No—what? I meant the police," Harry said, frowning.

"Police? What's that?"

"What's Azkaban?"

The girl frowned back at him, her hazel eyes furrowed in confusion. Harry took a good look at her, squinting in the dark. She was a little bit shorter than he was, with long red hair that was tangled all around her face with leaves and twigs stuck in it. She wore overalls and a lavender shirt, which seemed normal enough, but on top of it was a rather used-looking purple robe.

"Why are you wearing that thing?" Harry asked, seeing that the girl wasn't going to answer him.

"Oh, shoot," she realized, her eyes growing wide. "You're a muggle!"

"I'm a what? I don't—"

"Um, I, just—I didn't say anything," she said, looking frightened of him. She took a step back.

"Who's Ron?" asked Harry.

She hesitated. "My older brother," she answered after a moment. "I have five older brothers—"

"Lucky," Harry said under his breath.

"—and Fred and George, the twins, dared us to come into these woods because of Azkaban, the wi—the, um, prison. But you're a muggle, right? So you don't know what that is. So I didn't tell you. I think I wasn't supposed to, so just pretend I didn't say that." She bit her lip. "Oops."

"What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," she said. "My brothers are Bill, Percy, Fred and George, and Ron. My brother Bill goes to Hog—um, school."

"You mean you don't go to school? How old are you?"

"Five."

"Then you should at least be in kindergarten, right?"

"Wow," she said, "you really are a Muggle. I've never met one of you guys before."

"What are you, an alien?" Harry demanded.

She giggled. "No, silly, I'm a witch. Duh!" She paused again. "Oops. I really need to stop saying…Hey, what's your name?"

"Harry."

"That's a weird name."

"Yeah, well, so is Ginny."

She huffed at him. "So, what are you doing in these woods if you're a muggle? Don't you know that there's a prison here, full of dementors?"

"Demen—huh?"

"You muggles really don't know much," she commented.

"Hey! I'm not a muggle or whatever you call them. Could you quit calling me that?"

"Fine. Why are you here?"

"Because I am, that's why," Harry answered.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Right." She bit her lip again. "I gotta find Ron…we were separated. Fred and George got us two different portkeys to get here, and somehow he ended up in a different place than me…" Her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't know it was so dark out! I thought we could go back!" She started bawling again.

"I'll help you look for him," Harry offered.

Ginny nodded gratefully. They started walking for a little while in the woods and Harry finally managed to ask, "What's a portkey?"

Ginny burst out laughing. "You're random."

Harry didn't ask again.

"Ron?" they both called. "Ron? Ron, are you here?"

After about fifteen minutes of shouting his name, they heard a strained voice call back, "Ginny? Is that you?"

"Ron!" she shrieked. Another red-head emerged from the trees and Ginny threw her arms around him, sobbing. "Ron, I thought we were going to die, I thought the dementors got you…"

"It's okay, Ginny, the dementors only hurt the prisoners." He gulped, looking a bit uncertain of this, then diverted his attention to Harry.

"Thanks for helping Ginny," he said. "I'm Ron."

"Harry. It was no problem. I hope you can get back—"

There was a loud crack. Ginny yelped; Harry covered his ears. A woman appeared out of thin air, also with flaming red hair. "Ron! Ginny!" she screamed, running towards them and embracing them. "Oh, thank goodness…Whatever made you two…? Oh, I'm going to murder the two of them…but you're all right." She breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry stared, mouth hanging open in shock. How'd she pop out of nowhere? It was like…like magic! But there was no such thing as magic. His aunt and uncle had been sure since day one to beat that into his skull. But…was there any other explanation?

"Mommy!" Ginny cried. "I'm sorry, Mommy, we won't do it again—"

"We thought we could just get back on the portkeys," Ron interrupted, "we didn't know they were one way—"

"Where did the twins go?" asked Ginny.

"Back to The Burrow. Only about five minutes ago did they admit what had happened after you two had been missing for about an hour!" She was clearly furious. Harry was just a little bit scared of her.

"Mommy, Harry helped me find Ron," said Ginny, pointing to Harry. She lowered her voice (although Harry still heard loud and clear), "He's a muggle, though."

"Would you quit calling me that?"

"Dear, where are your parents?"

"Not here right now," he said uncomfortably.

"Do you need help looking for them, dear? My goodness…lots of lost children tonight…don't worry, we'll help you."

"N-no, thank you," Harry said hurriedly, "they're, um, dead."

There was a stony silence. "How very terrible," said Mrs. Weasley, looking genuinely concerned.

"I didn't know them," said Harry, not knowing quite how to respond to her reaction. "Doesn't matter."

"Where are you supposed to be? Who takes care of you?"

"I don't need any help, I'm fine," said Harry. "But thank you."

Mrs. Weasley kept insisting. "I can't leave you here. You're all alone…in this kind of a place…there's no telling what could…"

"So there really is a prison here?"

"Of course not," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry could see she was lying, but didn't press the matter. He just wanted to get away from this woman. Didn't she know that by trying to put him where he was "supposed to be," all she would be doing is making it worse? He shuddered, imagining facing the Dursleys. He might as well just jump off of a cliff now and get it over with.

"I live with my aunt and uncle," he admitted. He looked up at her pleadingly. "But I can't go back. I can't. They'll kill me."

"They won't kill you, dear, they're probably worried sick."

Harry laughed. "No, they'll be glad I'm gone."

Mrs. Weasley gawked at him. Harry ceased his laughter, embarrassed.

"Come closer, I can hardly see you in the dark," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry walked over to the three of them, knowing it was alright to trust this woman. Even if she was totally trying to screw his escape plan, she seemed like she was nice. It was the first time he'd felt like someone actually cared about him.

"Who did this to you?" she asked softly.

"Did what?"

"All those cuts and bruises," she said, staring at him worriedly.

"My cousin and his friends. And my uncle," he added, feeling his head throb again from being thrown in the cupboard. "I can't go back there, I'm sick of them. I'll be fine. You guys better go to the…Burrow? Is that what you called it?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "But you're coming with us. I can't let you stay here, it's much too dangerous."

"But I—"

"I promise you, I won't take back to your uncle and aunt. Just come with us."

"Yeah, you can come home with us and sleep in our room," said Ron enthusiastically. "We have an extra bed downstairs."

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say. "Thank you," he finally said, giving up. "Thank you a lot."

"Oh, dear, it's no trouble. Don't worry. We'll get this all sorted out. Those people won't be able to lay a…" She stopped mid-sentence, staring at Harry's forehead. "That scar…" she mumbled, lifting up his hair so she could see it clearly.

"Oh, that? I've had it since I was a baby. My aunt said I got it in the car crash my parents died in."

"Car crash?" she asked faintly. "What--? Oh, yes, dear, a car crash…What's your last name? I don't think Ginny said."

"I didn't know," she said, "he didn't say."

"Potter," he said. "Harry Potter."

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