Disclaimer: See past disclaimers.

Q&A: This is a reminder that I will always respond to questions, even if I cannot give answers every time. And thank you Akin for answering some of my questions!

...I think you're wasting a lot of my time by replying to reviews at the top of the fic. Please move such extraneous notes to the bottom of each chapter, and try to ensure they don't take up more than some twenty percent of the chapter volume. (It is /really/ annoying to scroll half the chapter just to reach the meat.) I don't think I am. As for annoying, some questions need to be answered beforehand for better understanding, especially if I messed up and left something unclear. Answering them also helps me. I've seen reviews arguing just the opposite of you (to be on top), and so no one is ever really happy. I apologize for anything over 20 percent. With the exception of ch. 2, all of them are close. I will try to keep the responses smaller, though, so there isn't a lot to scroll thru.
...What will Harry do with the rat? He'll do what he thinks is necessary, but he is only eight.
...Will Fawkes find Harry? ;)
...Do you think that Mrs. Newton suspects child abuse or child neglect...? Will she report Harry's imaginary aunt to child services? She definitely suspects neglect, but perhaps not abuse. It's written in her actions towards Harry, even if she doesn't outright say so. She will only report if something extreme occurs. That is not to say it will or will not happen.
...Much better advice is to "do the best with the information and resources you have. If you can change the future, then it is not set in stone. If you can't, then you won't." (obsidian-fox's review)
I like this and I'll keep it in mind. Thank you. Would you mind if I use it if I find a place? The advise I used for Harry was to keep him struggling with the consequences. This would be freeing for him. Also, what Mrs. Newton thinks may not be what another thinks. Mrs. Newton has her own beliefs that Harry will struggle to fit in with his own. The thing is, she is the only adult in his life, at the moment.
...I found it intriguing that, in an earlier review response, you mentioned that Harry had seven books, but not necessarily a complete set. I know you didn't mean this, but wouldn't it be interesting if the books Harry received were 1-5 plus Quidditch Through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts? It would be, but you'll see in a chapter or two what exactly happens with the books. Plus, it leaves room for book six.

Sorry for the wait!

"So, you think you can get away from us again?" The older boy punched Harry in the stomach once more. Harry struggled but couldn't get away because of the two other boys holding him down. They, too, were older than Harry. All three of them were either fourteen or fifteen.

The three laughed as the pain became too much for Harry and he started crying. It seemed like forever had passed before they let him go and began walking away, but not before throwing in a few kicks and rifling thru his bag. The clothes were thrown over their shoulder, either too small for them or too wide. The books and blanket, also, were thrown to the side, having no interest in them.

"Yes!" The ringleader, the one who had thrown the earlier punches, held up Harry's wad of money that equaled roughly sixty pounds. Harry cringed as the three boys left the alley with the money in hand. At the same time, he was glad that that was all they took. It would have been worse if they hadn't taken the time to rifle thru the pack and simply took it with them. Nonetheless, Harry was now left with no money. It meant that if Harry got desperate (which was more than likely), then he would have to steal in order to survive. The problem was, Harry had no idea of how to steal without getting caught. Sneaking for food in the Dursleys kitchen was one thing, but stealing it out of a store or grabbing some woman's purse was far riskier. It also brought up the moral dilemmas that liked to plague Harry's eight year old mind.

Slowly, he sat up and began to gather his belongings and put them back in his pack. His movements were slow and he had to stop on occasion in attempts to block out the pain. He couldn't help but wish to know how to use his magic to heal his cuts, bruises, and broken bones. It would be wonderful if he could. It certainly wouldn't hurt for him to try.

Looking back, he could remember thinking that he could handle street bullies because of Dudley and his 'Harry Hunting'. He was reevaluating his thoughts on that now. Dudley might be big, but he was still only eight, and he was also slow. These bullies were not. Harry now considered himself very lucky that he had been able to get away until now. He was also very unlucky that he had underestimated how dangerous they could be. He knew that one of the boys that had held him down was very liberal with his use of a knife. Harry had no doubt that if the boys caught up with him again, it would be used against him. Quickly, he used his magic to patch up his bag, thankful that he had recently learned how to patch up fabric in such a manner.

Not being able to hold himself up anymore, Harry slid his body down one of the alley walls so he could sit down. Wanting to try and heal himself, he lifted his baggy shirt and put his hand against his obviously cracked ribs. "Heal, heal, heal, heal...HEAL!" Harry's tears grew into full out sobs as his magic would not cooperate and heal his ribs. And they hurt so much!

ooOoo

Fawkes could not help but stare at the eight year old boy that clutched his ribs as he gathered together his meager belongings. It was obvious to the phoenix, who had much more brains than the average bird, that the boy known to the world as Harry Potter was most certainly not alright. Upon closer inspection, he could see the tears flowing down the boy's face. Here, in this back alley of London, was also not a place where Fawkes knew Albus Dumbledore expected or wanted him to be. Yet, despite his determination to bring the boy to Albus if he were in trouble, Fawkes could not help but stay on his perch atop the two story building, along side the alley, and just observe for a short while longer. He watched as Harry used his hands as a conduit for magic to mend the rips in his bag. He watched as the boy sat himself up against one of the walls, hidden from the view of anyone who would be passing by. He then watched as the boy lifted his shirt and put his hand up against his rapidly bruising chest, where cracked ribs, no doubt, resided underneath.

"Heal, heal, heal, heal...HEAL!" The boy broke down into further sobs as his magic failed to grant him his request even a little. Still, the magical bird could see that the boy was using his magic correctly and that, given time and practice, there would be no doubt that he would be able to use the magic to the capabilities that he was trying to stretch them to. Despite the circumstances, if Fawkes could smile, he would. Instead, he let out a soft flutter of harmonic notes. The boy was using the magic that every witch or wizard was capable of, but he knew how! So many (all but a small and very secret sect) never tapped into themselves to allow the real magic to come out, and thus needed to use a wand, but somehow, this boy realized exactly what was necessary to achieve true wizard's magic. Not even Albus could fully do so, though capable of several pieces of wandless magic (a much more roundabout, difficult, and taught way of doing what wizards were truly capable of). It pleased Fawkes to no end. Wands had only been used for those who were near squibs in the beginning, before others began using them because it was quicker and easier to learn with one. Wizards never realized what they were losing before it was lost completely, never really being captured again. There was no one to teach and guide anymore. Now, though, this small, injured, boy managed to accomplish this. Wanting to know more, he could not yet risk going to Harry and helping him. Just as a phoenix would sing to speak their language, a phoenix was also very much in tune with the language in another species' sorrow. Harry's cries told Fawkes of neglect and starvation waiting with his blood, longing for love and family, freedom and danger on the streets, magic at his fingertips, and knowledge of what potentially waited for him in his life if he simply allowed his life to be dictated by adults or allowed himself to be brought back to the Dursleys and oblivated of the past six months, simply for Albus's idea of protection. It was so much that Fawkes could hear. Despite previous resolve, the phoenix found he could not bring himself to take Harry to Albus and unintentionally destroy the potential that the boy could come into. Still...

Harry watched as a red and gold bird swooped down to stand in front of him. It vaguely resembled that of the phoenix drawn on the cover of one of his books, but this one was much more real and much more majestic. Suddenly, he was stricken with fear. What if... what if this was really Fawkes and another wizard was right around the corner waiting to collect him?

Comforting notes swam out of the cords of Fawkes. This was right before the bird tilted his head over Harry's still exposed torso. A few tears dropped onto the pale skin, immediately absorbing and soothing and healing his ribs. The not-quite-formed bruises disappeared as well.

"Thank you!" Harry reached out and pet the top of Fawkes's head. "Y-you're Fawkes, aren't you?"

He got a coo in response.

"Please don't tell Professor Dumbledore. He'll want me to go back to the Dursleys. I can't. You understand, right?"

Fawkes cocked his head to the side. He certainly understood the emotions that he had interpreted earlier.

"Here." Harry grabbed the second book from his bag. "That's supposed to be you on the cover. It's how I know who you are. Professor Dumbledore likes to hide stuff. He will think I'm too young. He says so in the books, and I'm older in the books. I get it, though. I don't want him to think I'm too young. I have to learn to kill Voldemort. If I don't, he's gonna kill me. I don't want to die, Fawkes. If I keep being a kid, then I'm gonna die!"

Fawkes butted his head against Harry's cheek in sympathy. He may be just a bird to some, but that did not mean he did not understand. After all, he had been around for over 1,200 years. Thus, it made a lot of sense to him that an eight year old would rather live than die and that he would want to avoid someone that could potentially hinder him from living. What was amazing, though, was that an eight year old realized all of this and made the connections between life and Albus, though obviously the boy had gotten the idea from his books, wherever they had come from. He knew Albus was not a bad man, but he was a man that looked out more for the greater good than the individual. Looking once again at the cover of the book, Fawkes felt insulted. Surely people didn't think phoenixes looked so ordinary.

"I don't know what to do!"

Fawkes jerked out of his selfish thought and looked straight into the boy's eyes. Harry squirmed under the gaze, but allowed Fawkes to see whatever it was that he was seeking.

The phoenix realized the boy was far too young to accomplish what he wished to do, physically as well as mentally. Gently, he pushed Harry's mind and magic to mature just a bit, allowing Harry to be able to skip about four years of mental and magical development. Fawkes didn't push it any further, and would never do so again, but it would certainly help. Harry had already accomplished much with his magic. Only now, it would be as powerful as it would be if he were twelve, rather than eight. Mentally, Harry would be able to focus more than an eight year old and think more complex thoughts, again, no more than if he were twelve. It would help him to think more independently, something much needed on the streets. Harry would still have to learn how to utilize what Fawkes had just given him, but it was a start.

ooOoo

Roughly a month later, Harry walked up the steps that led to Mrs. Newton's house. He was cold, far colder than he had been in a long time. Some other squatters had taken up residence in the abandoned building that he typically used, so he no longer ventured there, and the other places he had used in the past were not insulated by four walls. This left him with two places that he could go on this night: Mrs. Newton or the Weasleys. Hopping between the two places ensured that he always had a meal for the past month, but his stomach always gnawed at how he used them for food, even though he enjoyed their company just as much. Never, though, had he asked either to spend the night. He had not wanted to clue them in to the true facts of his life. Tonight, though, he was cold, wet, and sick. While it could all be cured in a matter of moments at Ron's house, it held a heavy risk of them seeing his scar if he spent the night, and then realizing who he was. That left Mrs. Newton. He knew she would help him. He was just afraid of what might come after asking for her help. He hoped dearly he could talk her out of telling anyone that he was actually an orphan on the streets, especially child services.

Hesitantly, he knocked on her door. Almost immediately, it swung open.

"Jamie?" As he stood there, she got a closer look. "Oh, love, come inside! You must be freezing!"

He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. He was startled when he felt Mrs. Newton begin to pull off his bag and jacket.

"You're wet dear. It's best we get these things off before you get sick."

Harry sneezed, as though predicting her words.

"Apparently, you already are. Strip down to your undergarments and then come to the bathroom. I'm going to draw you a warm bath, alright?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Newton."

"It's not a problem. I have a feeling we're going to have a long talk tomorrow, though. In the meantime, you can bunk in my guest bedroom. Now, let me go draw that bath."

The older woman hurried off to draw the bath and Harry hesitantly began to strip down, beginning with his soaked sneakers. After he was finished, he left his wet clothing on the tile floor and moved slowly toward the bathroom. He felt very naked and exposed, not because he was only in his Y-fronts, but because for the first time, he was without his hat to cover his scar. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest.

"There you are. It's almost full, and then I'll leave you to your privacy." She stood up from where she was perched on the bathtub and made her way over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I'm glad you feel that you are able to seek help from me. You don't really live with your aunt, do you?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. And you don't really go to Hereward House School, do you?"

He shook his head as he looked to his feet.

"I didn't think that, either. I've never seen you wear a uniform, which I should have." She paused for a moment to think, and then went to shut off the water. "Well, I think I'll stay off the rest of the questions until tomorrow. Go on and take your bath and I'm going to put your things in the guest bedroom." She gave him a smile before leaving him to take his bath.

A.N.: Okay, I know nothing about Hereward School, only that it is somewhere near Regents Park (I know by looking at a map). I looked it up on the internet. It's a boy's school, they wear uniforms, and their age group includes 8 year olds. This is probably the only appearance that the school will make, though it might be in the next chapter too.

Also, with Harry gaining the mentality of a 12 year old isn't quite right. For those of you who have studied child psychology, you know that a child can't really think theoretically until they are eleven or twelve. Until then, they can only think concrete thoughts. That was his mental increase, being able to think that way. It just gives room for Pettigrew dilemas. I do have a reason! As for his magic, he'll only be on par with those who are twelve rather than eight. I thought about this not happening because I am afraid that it's like I'm making him superpowered, but that is not my intention!