I'mgoing to putthe rating down to T, but it might go back up to M later in the story.
Sorry to anyone who wanted it, but Harry will not be leaving the Dursley's anytime soon. There is going to be more on this subject in later chapters, so you'll just have to wait.
Harry's experiences throughout his adult life are not going to be on here for two reasons. #1. It would be a TON of trouble, and I want to get things done in this chapter. #2. I need it for later chapters.
Thanks to: ryota is evil, Frog1, Vellouette, jessika black, witowsmp, and Aryes for reviewing! I love you all! Go have a cookie, chocolate, cake, or ice cream! Whichever you prefer! (No, I'm not providing them, it's just a suggestion.
Disclaimer: No.
Chapter Two: Wanted and Unwanted
Harry sat up slowly, groaning. His eyes widened, as he realized he had made a sound, and clapped a hand to his mouth. A second later, however, he thought: Why would I worry about Uncle Vernon? Wait a second… Where am I?
He shot up, remembering how he had been about to go out and face Voldemort, so he expected to be restrained somehow. Surely if he had been knocked out it was because Voldemort had captured him… That was one weird dream he'd had while he had been unconscious… However, when he met no barrier, he overbalanced and nearly smashed into a small, crusty mirror leaning against where he had been lying down.
'Mirror? But… I don't have any mirrors anymore…' Trying to find out what was going on, and if he was injured when whatever had happened, happened, he looked into the mirror, trying to discern the figure reflected back at him, but the image was blurry.
Why would it be blurry? I got my eyesight fixed a while back… He saw a pair of glasses on the moldy shelf next to where he had been sleeping, and decided to try them on. What the Hell?
Instead of a normal height man, skinny but not anorexic-looking, and scars crisscrossing his abdomen and a broken nose, obviously someone who had his fair share of a war, he saw what appeared to be small enough to be a six-year-old boy, but the features themselves looked a little more like seven or eight-year-old.
A few scars, probably from glass shards or something like that judging by the way it was sliced rather than torn, a distinctive lightning-bolt scar and shining emerald eyes. Definitely not a twenty-seven-year-old man who had seen more battles than he wanted to, more like a seven or eight-year-old child who was neglected and abused. Hey, I've got that finger back too… Harry thought idly. He had lost his middle finger when he had "angered" the Dark Lord by making a rather sharp hand gesture. Maybe it wasn't a dream… But this is crazy! Then again, I've already decided that I'm completely insane…
He started checking his Occlumency shields, a habit he had picked up when he was recovering from a friend's death. It helped him concentrate and calm down, seeing as how similar to meditating it was. What he found did anything but calm him.
Harry had become well accustomed to the feel of his Occlumency walls, for sometimes he spent hours, even days, sitting and feelings his mental wards, basically massaging his mind.
Occlumency is one of the magics of the mind, and, as such, must be compatible with the mind using it. That would mind would go insane from trying to encompass the endless swirling vortex that was completely stationary and smaller than a dust particle, from which the mind was… born, for lack of a better word.
Therefore, most people see a field in front of something like a wall standing guard in front of a castle, fortress, or sometimes library. One person was renown for having what appeared to be a three-hundred-yard thick wall of gelatin, inside of which was a large pomegranate. It was assumed that each seed in the pomegranate held one aspect of the mind.
Harry himself was used to a three-inch wall of steel, about thirty-five feet high. While not considered a bad wall, when it came to Voldemort it was barely able to keep out dreams.
Now, however, Harry saw a towering wall of black stone, with some random jagged spikes. The stone reminded Harry a little bit of obsidian, but it was obviously a completely different thing all together. Harry wasn't even sure whether it was stone or not.
It extended at least seventy feet into the air, and, judging from a hard flick, was over four feet thick, unless sound just didn't carry on this material.
Nursing a now throbbing finger, Harry walked along the side of the wall, noting that it curved slightly, but not nearly as much as it had originally. This made him think that for some reason his mind had gotten bigger. Oh well, this was just another reason for Snape to say his head had inflated. He continued on for about thirty-five more paces before coming across another huge difference.
There, maybe fifteen feet ahead, was a new barrier. The black stone got shorter and thinner, and then there were gaps as the black began to have slivers of red-brown, probably some kind of wood. Soon it was more wood than stone, and finally all wood, making a new, but shabbily made, fence.
He went back to the wall and walked up to it, wondering if it would respond as his old wall had. Yes, it surged and seemed to melt and move outwards, away from his hand, leaving a small hole directly in front of his hand. Smiling, he took a step forward and pressed himself against it, and waited for it to finish melting, moving, reforming, and hardening.
When it was done there was a rectangular entrance to the wall, about the height and twice the width of Harry. It was seamless; appearing as if it had always been that way, and had not just rearranged itself. Then he took another step and let it repeat the process, and another.
At four paces in, the small pathway began to close in at the end that led back outside. It left him completely blind, senseless, and directionless, as it took the last of the twilight away. Unfortunately, seeing as how he wasn't completely inside his own mind yet, he couldn't call up any light into existence, or anything to point him the right way.
His chest began constricting as suddenly claustrophobia set in, and he realized he had no idea which way went where, he could very well wander sideways along this wall forever, continually getting turned around by whatever traps this foreign defense had. Not exactly a comforting thought.
He panicked, and began taking steps forward to quickly in his fear-driven haste, and bumped his nose numerous times on the unforgiving stone.
It took thirty-five more paces, sixteen nose bumps, and eleven well-deserved curses, but Harry finally burst into what appeared to be an air pocket, with another dark black wall impeding his path about two paces ahead. The wall seemed to have randomly placed microscopic holes dotting it.
Harry felt both hope jump up into his chest and fear settle in his stomach. He had read in one of Dumbledore's books that thicker walls had this kind of pocket just before the exit. However, the mind was well known for pulling pranks on the body, pranks much worse than anything the Weasley twins could pull off, and even more often.
The pinpricks of light could very well just be his brain rejecting the idea of such complete blackness, and while the ground beneath his feet seemed a shade lighter black, not quite gray, there wasn't enough of a contrast to be sure.
As he tried to shake those doubts out of his head, he closed the last of the distance, and stuck out his hand, stopping just in front of the wall of darkness.
Sunlight, warm and pure, shone through, bright enough to force him to squint. He sprinted through the wall as quickly as he could, and fell onto the ground, all of the fears of his life soundly vanquished by the glorious light surrounding him. It felt as if the sunlight itself was caressing him, holding him tight and telling him not worry.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and took in the sight around him. His first thought was: Holy crap. which was then followed quickly by: What the hell? and finally: This isn't the same.
He was on the edge of a field, a field of green, luscious, soft grass, and ahead, in the middle of the field, was a large book, an enormous tome, easily big enough to hold every scrap of book he'd ever seen, and then some. He got up and walked towards it, relishing the tranquility, the peacefulness that he felt for the first time in his life.
When he was in front of the tome, he reached out and attempted to open the cover. Bloody hell, this is heavy. He braced himself and used both hands to tug sharply on the cover. It fell open with a sharp Crack! when it hit the stone table on which it was resting.
Looking inside, Harry saw thousands, millions of columns. One line said: Thoughts of the Thirteenth of July, Nineteen-Ninety-Three; Transfiguration. The one beneath it stated: Thoughts of the Thirteenth of July, Nineteen-Ninety-Three; Walking to Potions.
What the Hell? Harry thought. God, there've been way to many times that I've thought that phrase lately…Good thing Hermione doesn't know. Harry pushed away that painful thought with a wince, and thought about the title in front of him for a second, wondering what it could possibly mean, then gasped as the inky scrawl in front of him was suddenly wiped out, and quickly written in was: "Bloody Hell, I'm never going to get that essay for McGonagall. Snape's going to kill me, I barely started his essay…"
Harry had seen this before, but he couldn't remember where… If only Dumbledore was there… Dumbledore… Dumbledore! That was it! Onceafter one of his Occlumency lessons, he had accidentally broken into Dumbledore's mind. The old headmaster immediately realized this, and took down his own shields, allowing Harry full access to his mind. But when Harry looked in, all he saw was a large book, which he couldn't open, except to a few pages…
When Harry had asked what it was, Dumbledore replied that it was "In effect, a mental table of contents," meaning that each title was a series of thoughts. You concentrate on one title, and you then see those thoughts. However, this only happened with the most spectacular, busiest minds, with the largest amount of information stored away. Certainly Harry did not have such a large mind… last time he had checked his mind, he had a book about the size of two advanced potions making books, but it held all of his thoughts without anything hidden.
The he remembered the next thing the old wizard had said. "In chronological order…"
Struck by sudden inspiration, Harry tried to open the pages closest to the end. It didn't even budge. Surprised, Harry attempted to dig his nails in between the pages, but they ran like water, reforming around his nails, not letting him get a grip. It reminded him of a book he had read once, the first book in a series called The Keys to the Kingdom. Something about a thing called The Compleat Atlas to Houses, or something like that.
He shook the thought out of his head and gave up, there was nothing he could do, and if there was anything he had learned throughout his life, it was to not waste any resource you had, and that included time. He stepped back through his self-appointed mental barrier, and began walking back, this time more confident, although he had no reason to be. He was just as likely to get lost this time as the last.
Sure enough, it took him an extra ten steps before he hit the other side. He jogged back to the fence, hoping to notice something new. He did see something new, but it wasn't what he had even begun to expect. The fence had become slightly darker, but it was such a small difference that Harry wasn't sure he had actually seen it. The fence also seemed to be a little firmer, as if it was taking on the aspects of the huge barrier it was connected to.
Shrugging, Harry decided that he didn't have anything better to do, and sat down. After ten minutes of staring, he was sure that the shade had gotten darker, although if he hadn't been watching so closely, he was sure he wouldn't have noticed. Another twenty minutes, and he had no doubt that the fence was indeed changing.
Content with this information, and at all sure of what to do about it, Harry concentrated on feeling, hearing, seeing… slowly, he felt a pressure on his rump, and, opening his eyes, he realized the pressure was himself, sitting on the hard floor of the small cupboard. If this is a dream, then it isn't bad yet. If, in this dream, I can make things right, then I'm sure as Hell going to make sure that at least my fantasies are better than my real life.
The he heard someone screech, "For the last time, get up! I'm going to get your Uncle down there if you don't start making Dudley's breakfast! It has to be ready before he gets UP!" The voice made his blood run cold. Maybe I haven't gone o the past… I'm not dreaming now, I'm sure of that… Maybe I just dreamt the last however many years up…
No, to dream of something, you had to have an idea of what the thing was like, and there were things in there Harry had never dreamt were possible. Okay, to save my sanity… sort of… I'm going to just believe that I really did meet Destiny… or Christine…God... man this is confusing…
With a stifled groan, he stood up, stretching knotted muscles that were protesting with every nerve cell they had. Oh god, I forgot how horrible this cupboard is… The walls had smears of blood on them, though there was more than last time… Things are different. When did I get a mirror? I thought Destiny… Christine said I would go back to the same Universe, just back in time.
Harry's nose twitched, as he smelt something out of place. Then his eyes widened. Holy shit! There are loosegases in here! This place is poisonous, not to mention prone to the slightly hazardous act of exploding! Even at a time like this, Harry's cynical way of thinking, born of too many years in a losing war as a small child, was still going strong.
Harry burst out of the cupboard, gasping for fresh air.
"Freak! What are you doing?"
Harry whirled around, to face someone he had wished to never see again. He thought he had gotten his wish when they had been killed by Death Eaters two days after he left the horrid house, but there she was.
"There aregases in there that are poisonous, and might blow up, Aunt Petunia," Harry spat, not even attempting to hide the venom in his voice.
Petunia gaped like a fish for a few seconds, before hauling herself up to full height (in other words, lifting her giraffe-like neck), and glared at the half-naked child in front of her. "Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that? I let you live under my roof, and this is how you repay me? I should-"
But Harry interrupted her. "You should get everyone out of this house and call an emergency center before we all go boom. Got it? I start fire in stove,gases hit it, bye bye house, bye bye us, and bye bye Diddykins. Get it? Now get dear old Uncle and the Great White Whale Mobey Dudley out!"
She stared at him for a second, but seeing the determination and confidence in his eyes, decided to see if what he said was true. "You stay here and watch the house. I'm getting Dudley and your Uncle, and we, that is, Dudley, your Uncle and I, are going two houses down to the Hinkes's to call the gas company. When we get back, your Uncle is going to talk to you." With that, she rushed upstairs, calling for "Honey, Diddy-Darling" to get up.
Hell no, I'm not staying here. He watched as the three rushed outside, Dudley's already strained pajamas threatening to rip as he ran. As soon as they were out of sight, Harry opened the back door and sprinted out, cursing his younger body's low stamina. He ran around the house to the side, where there was a hole from when Dudley had tried to set off a small Roman Candle when Harry was six.
But the hole wasn't there. Even better, though, was a fence door, that had either been put in after the hole this time, or Dudley hadn't blown it up in the first place. Harry doubted that it was the latter.
He opened the small gate and slowed to a jog, already slightly out of breath. His muscles were in absolute revolt against him now, but Harry blocked it out; he had had much worse than sore muscles before. Like blown up muscles.
Okay, let's see… Nothing with a fire should be on… Wait, what was that humming noise I heard? Oh shit! The pilot light! Once, again, Harry sprinted as quickly as his short, scrawny legs could take him, burst through the back door, and rushed into the kitchen. He reached over and turned out the small flame burning in the stove, and ran, well, more like jogged, outside for the last time.
When he had finally gotten a house down, he heard a siren blaring. He started to head back, but thought better of it. Instead, he crossed the street and watched as a few people in some kind of weird looking suits, rather like biohazard suits, rushed in, carrying instruments that would presumably measure the amount of dangerous chemicals in the air.
Harry watched dutifully, as more and more of the nosy inhabitants of Privet Drive pooled onto the street, a murmuring starting up about what was happening to the most well esteemed neighbors in the neighborhood.
About half an hour after they had entered, the emergency-specialists came out. They immediately walked briskly to the ambulance, or ambulance-like vehicle, and recorded their finds as another reported to the head officer. Harry watched as the people climbed out of the suits and were sprayed down, and then he walked up to them.
"How bad is it?" he said once he reached them, after carefully evading a few diligent police officers.
The person he had spoken to, apparently some kind of nurse, jumped and spun around. "What are you doing back here? How did you get past the guards?"
"Oh, please don't report them, it wasn't their fault they didn't see me. I'm here because I live there, and I'm the only reason me and my family are not in bits and pieces around the wreckage of that house that you just walked out of. So, can you tell me how bad it is?"
The nurse seemed very flustered at this announcement, especially coming from a child who looked to be no older than seven, maybe eight if he didn't get quite the right amount of food. Obviously, the nurse picked up on that little detail, as she was a nurse, and had most likely had worked with children sometime in the past.
"Er, well, I'm not really supposed to disclose these details, but I guess it won't hurt to tell you. Basically, the gases used to heat the house, which are both toxic and combustible, were leaking out of cracks in the pipes in a cupboard beneath the stairs.
"It seems that someone, with very quick thinking, turned off the pilot light, and it was just in time too. The gases have just moved over to the kitchen area, where they had been confined to the cupboard and the immediate area before now. However, we found some… interesting things in the cupboard, and we'll need to talk about that with your Mom and Dad, okay?"
"They're my Uncle and Aunt, and how long will it be 'til we can move back in?"
It was evident that the nurse was completely baffled by the way the small child in front of her had not only seemed to listen to everything she had said, but had understood it as well. "Well, I'm not to sure when you'll be able to come back. It's not so severe that the neighborhood needs evacuation, but we will have to have the house for a while to clean it up. It seems that the gases have been building up for a period of time, so we'll have to be careful about this. It's really astounding that nobody noticed it until now."
"I noticed it."
"What?"
"I noticed it, and I turned off the pilot light."
"Hmmm. How?"
Oh crap. I'm acting way to old. She's getting suspicious. I better play it down a little. "Well, I was walking past the cupboard, and I smelled something really weird. It burned my eyes, too. I heard a hissing, and I remembered one safety commercial I saw once that said something about gases and that kind of thing.
"Then I told my aunt to what I thought, and that I heard a hissing coming from under the stairs, and she got up Dudley and Uncle Vernon. Then I remembered that there was a flame that we never turn off from cooking lessons with my aunt. I asked Aunt Petunia about it, and she went and turned it off, so I guess I didn't turn it off, but I helped."
She sensed the sudden change in the child's demeanor, but kids were weird little things anyway. However, she didn't doubt this little kid's story. Anybody else, including some adults she knew, would have embellished their part in a rescue, even if it was on accident, but this boy was completely blunt, and the sharp green eyes seemed to tell her in no uncertain terms: "I'm not lying. Believe me."
"Okay. Well, I need to talk to your Uncle and Aunt. Do you know where they are?"
"Yeah. They should be over at the Hinkes's down that way," he said, pointing. "It two houses down and across the street. See it?"
"Yes, thank you. Well, I might see you again. Bye."
"Thank you. Bye." Harry turned away and started walking.
She shook her head, and tried to get back to work, but couldn't get the thought of one Harry Potter completely out of her head.
If you had been watching very closely, you might have noticed her eyes change from blue to blue-green, and her dark red hair become even darker after she made a twisting face.
I'm horribly sorry, but I will not be updating for a LONG time! About a month, maybe longer. I'm going to camp on tomorrow, and I wasn't even able to get this to my beta (sorry ryota is evil), or even double check this!
That means that I'm sorry if there is an abnormally large amount of uh-ohs and whoopsies or even a few "huh?"'s in this chapter, but just try to be happy a got it out! I barely managed to! I'm going to be writing in a notebook while I'm at camp, so hopefully I will get the next chappie out a little bit after the twenty-ninth, but no guarantees. Bye, toodles, love ya all, have fun, and stay in trouble!
Also, I was going to have this chapter be longer and end differnently, but I had no time, so sorry!
