Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property.

Chapter one: lost

And he knew how to deal with freaks.

Grapping his son's arm hard, he threw the terrified child in the cupboard under the stairs and left the house without a word. One minute later, Petunia heard his car leaving.

She knew she had to act quickly, before he returned. The look on her husband's eyes when he stared at their son had been unmistakable. That was the look he usually reserved for Potter. A look of utterly disgust and loathing. A hating glare.

She had nothing against the way Vernon dealt with Harry. The boy was nothing but a nuisance and he got what he deserved. But her son? Her unique child? She couldn't let Vernon hurt her Duddyckins.

So she left. It was an impulsive decision, but she knew it to be a good one. As soon as the car's sound faded away, she stood, made hurriedly her way to her bedroom and began to pack as much as possible, leaving a lost Harry in the kitchen. Then, she packed a few things for Dudley as well, took him, and left without a word.

A few minutes later, changing her mind, she went back to the house and wrote a note for her husband to find. Then, she turned to Harry and said:

"I know I agreed to take care of you but I can't. Dudley and I are leaving because I can't stand Vernon hurting him. If you have any brain at all you won't wait for your uncle to come back and put it all on you. Bye."

Little Harry didn't know what to do. He didn't understand what had just happen. Ten minutes ago, Dudley was just opening presents, and then everything went weird. But it hadn't been his fault at all, this time.

Dudley wanted a computer and a new one just appeared from nowhere. And his uncle got angry. At Dudley. This had never happened before. And Vernon had throw Dudley in his cupboard. Things just didn't make any sense.

The Dursleys had always loved anything Dudley did. Anything he said or did was just perfect for them. Now that Dudley was gone, and Petunia too, perhaps uncle Vernon would love him, Harry? Yes! Now that his cousin was gone surely he could have his bedroom? Perhaps not the first, but how about the second? Uncle Vernon wasn't so bad when he wasn't angry… surely now that he was his only family he would love him like a son?

Holding this thought, he began to tidy up the kitchen (he knew how much his uncle despised the mess). By the time he finished to bring the presents Dudley left because they were too heavy to his second bedroom, he heard a car parking on the alley. The kitchen was clean, and only the computer stayed on the floor (it was too heavy for him to carry).

Proud of his work and sure to receive all his uncle's praise now that he was the only son of the house, he stood still in the middle of the kitchen.

Seconds later, his drunk uncle came in, saw him and froze. Obviously, he didn't expect Harry to be here. Pushing the boy impatiently out of the way, he took notice of the note left by Petunia, explaining she left with Dudley and that he wasn't to see them anymore.

Then, everything went red. Anger blinded him. Anger for Petunia, who dared leave him, anger for the neighbours who were already gossiping about her leaving him, anger at Dudley for being a freak as well, and most of all, anger at his stupid nephew who stood just before him.

Everything was that brat's fault. He was the freak, and this freakiness must be contagious because Dudley caught it.

Nothing would go as planned. Harry understood it as soon as he saw his uncle's eyes glowing with anger, just like the time when his hair had grown overnight. In ten thousands times worse. He barely registered a sharp pain in his arm as his uncle grabbed it and shove him into the wall, then he lost consciousness.

Little Harry awoke some time later. Pain. Pain was everywhere in his body. His head hurt, as did his ribs, his back, and most of all, his right arm. He remembered the fury in his uncle's eyes, and absent-mindedly wondered how he was still alive.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and discovered that last night wasn't one of his nightmares.

The kitchen was a mess. Some chairs lay broken, the table was upside-down… but most of all, there was dark red paint everywhere. Traces on the fridge, and a lot on the floor. Suddenly he coughed and he barely noticed the new trace forming on the floor as his eyes were absorbed by a big snoring form besides him.

His uncle was sleeping. So that was why he didn't kill him. He had been too drunk and collapsed before doing it.

Painfully aware that his uncle was likely to finish his task as soon as he awoke, the boy did his best to hold a cry as he stood up. Slowly, holding his injured ribs tightly, he went to his cupboard and took his old blanket. He didn't dare go upstairs (and frankly, he didn't really want to risk the stairs in his state) where he could have taken something more useful.

A little plan was forming in his mind. He would leave his uncle, just like his aunt has done in the morning. He had no idea where he would go, but anywhere had to be better than here.

And nobody would ever find him. He knew, or rather he feared, that if anyone found him they would send him back here, or with his aunt. Or worse, according to uncle Vernon, to the orphanage. But he wouldn't let anyone find him! He would be on his own and nobody would never ever hurt him again, he swore it to himself.

He would never ever allow himself to hope love or care from the adults again. His uncle, his family, wanted to kill him because of something Dudley and aunt Petunia did. He would never trust anyone with his care anymore. If he wanted to live, he had to take care of himself…

Holding these thoughts, he bravely opened the door and, without looking behind, he walked away in the twilight.

Little Harry was tired. He had half-walked, half-limped all night, without any precise destination in mind. He just wanted to go as far away from Vernon as possible. The numbness that progressively reached him prevented the pain to be unbearable, so he welcomed it gratefully.

He knew that if he didn't want to be found and brought back to Privet Drive or to the orphanage he would have to hide before sunset. He was way too noticeable. He didn't know how he exactly looked like, but he could see some blood on his clothes and he didn't have any others. Besides, he wanted to sleep, or collapse.

Therefore, he almost passed out from relief when he saw the station. He remembered Aunt Petunia saying once that all the no-homers slept there at night because the trains' blankets were nice and they weren't locked.

He was much too small to make it to the door's handle, but there was one open near the end. Relieved he climbed the two stairs and lied on the bottom one. He pulled tightly his blanket around his shoulders and drifted to a healing sleep.

Mrs Arabella Figg was on her way to buy cat's food when she saw a police vehicle parked in the alleyway of number 4, Privet Drive. She usually didn't pay much attention to these things (in fact she didn't pay attention to anything besides her beloved kittens) but she was supposed to keep an eye on the boy who lived there for her old friend Albus Dumbledore. Sighing and thinking that her cats would have to wait their food a little longer, she went there and asked to one of the policemen:

"What happened here?"

" It was really awful, answered the young man. Looks like this man (he pointed a very numb-looking Vernon Dursley who was being taken between two policemen to the car) harmed severely his young nephew because he blamed him of his wife's departure. There was blood everywhere. I'm surprised we didn't found the boy's corpse. Maybe we'll find it lying somewhere near in the next couple of days..."

Figg didn't even wait for the man to finish his ramble sentence. She turned away in a hurry and locked herself in her home, then tossed some strange powder into the hearth and called "Albus Dumbledore's office".

Seconds later, an old man's head could be seen in the hearth, his long beard caressing the floor. He said brightly:

"Arabella! How are you my dear ! It's been an awfully long time since…"

"Albus, stop babbling and come here right now! I didn't call you to talk about sorbet lemons."

Immediately, the man's face turned serious and a minute later he was standing next to her.

"Now Arabella please tell me what happened."

"Albus, there are policemen - muggles Aurors if you want - all over your boy's house. They said his uncle harmed or even killed him, even though they didn't found a body yet. Apparently it all happened because of Petunia's decision to leave her husband. Albus, they said there was blood all over the place! "

"Now calm down Arabella. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Muggles always seem to overestimate the situation. I'm certain Harry is fine. Come with me, we'll go and see by ourselves."

He offered her his arm gallantly and they headed towards number 4.

As it turned out, Harry wasn't fine at all. He had managed to sleep soundly until midday, then the hunger awoke him. He hadn't eaten anything since the earlier day's breakfast and had walked a lot. Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd have to go on for days without food, but his body still wasn't really accustomed to it since it didn't happen that often.

However, his previous injuries seemed less hurtful, as if the rest had somehow helped them heal. His arm and chest still hurt, but not unbearably so.

Sighing, he slowly got up, leaving the train's blanket with reluctance, as he really didn't know where to go next. He obviously had to find something to eat, but where? He didn't have any money, and he really didn't fancy to beg for money on the street. After all, his aunt and uncle who had been supposed to take care of him had made it quite clear that anyone with half a mind wouldn't want to give anything to a freak.

Before leaving the train, he went to the toilets to drink a little water. Then, he grabbed his blanket and left.

As he did, he immediately noticed that he wasn't in Surrey anymore. The train! The train had moved while he was asleep! He could be anywhere. He had to find out where he was. He then noticed that he didn't have his glasses. He was sure he had taken them when he left Privet Drive, so perhaps they were still somewhere near the couch where he slept?

He didn't find them there, so he began to search all the train, thinking they could have moved because of the train's movements. As he searched, he found a forgotten bag. He took it after a little hesitation. He knew it was bad to go through someone else's things, and even worse to steal… but he really needed new clothes or he would be too noticeable. Besides, he couldn't be sure that the bag's owner would return to retrieve his propriety, so he could at least make it of use.

Nervously, he opened it, and found some clothes (much too big for him but not worse that his previous ones), photos and some money. Not much, but enough to get something to eat for some days. He smiled to himself at the idea: he could get whatever he wanted to eat! Even Dudley's favourite sweets!

Packing the whole thing, he put on new clothes, packed his old ones and his blanket in the bag, took it and left.

With his excitement, he had forgotten about his glasses. Anyway, they were broken after his uncle's beating, so there wasn't any point in wearing them. Besides, nobody would recognise him without them!

Dumbledore entered the Dursleys' kitchen after having gently charmed the policemen so that they wouldn't notice them, and immediately understood why they thought the boy had been killed.

So much blood. And Arabella had told him that Harry was quite small for his age… he really should be in a bad shape. Hell. If it wasn't for the prophecy, which stated clearly that only Voldemort could kill Harry, he would have thought him dead himself after seeing this.

He had to find him. Fast. He would obviously need to be healed. And even if it wasn't the case, it still wouldn't do to have the Boy-Who-Lived living on the streets.

If only he had thought twice about leaving him here, as Minerva had advised him. He swore to himself that Harry would never have to stay here anymore. Even if they found his aunt and cousin, who had been stupid enough to leave him there. Stupid woman! The blood protection wouldn't even work if she wasn't in the house. Even if his uncle had accepted him, he would have been much too vulnerable.

Just like now. He shivered at the thought of the little boy left to himself, without any protection. If a Death Eater found him now, prophecy or not…

He had to find him, and fast. He turned to Arabella.

"I want you to keep an eye on the neighbourhood in the next few weeks. It is possible that Harry didn't go very far. In fact, it is almost certain, looking at this… he shouldn't be in any state to go very far. "

"What are you gonna do Albus?"

"Find him, of course. Good day!"

He apparated next to Hogwarts' grounds and walked fast to the castle. There, he hurried in his office. He had letters to write. Before it was too late…

It was the first Order meeting in nearly five years. Then, the secret organization's goal was to stop Voldemort. It was no wonder everyone at the table was looking at Dumbledore in apprehension.

"Albus, what is this meeting for? Does it mean Riddle has come back? Asked Alastor Moody, his magical eye searching the room as if the Dark Lord himself was there, hidden under an invisibly cloak.

"No, no, he isn't."

Everyone sighed, relieved

"Then why this meeting?" Wondered aloud Mr Weasley.

"It's about Harry, isn't it?" asked Remus.

"How do you know?"

"Muggle papers."

"Oh. Already? they're quick. This is bad. If an ex Death Eater came in possession of one…"

"Albus, I do not think we have to worry about Lucius reading Muggle newspapers over breakfast, or any of the others." Answered Severus Snape at his left.

"Right."

"What is this about? What happened to the poor child?" Asked Molly Weasley.

"We don't really know yet. Rumours said his uncle killed him. I do not think it likely. But I've seen the kitchen where it happened, and it didn't look good. The boy was injured when he left, at the very least. That's why I need you all. We need to locate him."

"His uncle? Merlin, Albus, I told you not to let him there! These people are monsters!" Claimed Minerva MacGonagall.

"And I really should have listened to you. I am deeply sorry. But this won't help him."

"Albus, are you saying that your bloody six-year-old saviour is out there totally defenceless, and perhaps even half-dead and alone?"

"Yes, Severus, I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm saying. And I need all of you to help me."

"Albus, as much as I hate to be the one to ask, how can you be so sure he's alive? What if he's dead already?"

"The prophecy, Remus. It can be quite cryptic, but it clearly says "one must die at the hand of the other" and as far as I know, Vernon Dursley doesn't have Voldemort's hands, so he couldn't kill Harry."

"If you say so…"

"I do."

"…"

"Severus, I need you to quiz your old accountancies, see if they know anything and inform me the minute they learn that Harry is missing.

"Remus and Minerva, while the trace is fresh I want you to discreetly try to follow Harry's scent. Minerva, you can also try to ask the neighbour's cat.

"Alastor and Arthur, I want you two to do the same as Severus with the Ministry. Try to know of any mention of magic inside Surrey too. We need to know what they know, when and how.

"Molly, do you still have that knitting club? Good. Then ask the old ladies if they know anything.

"We will all meet again in a week's time, to share any information we'll have managed to gather by then. Good luck!"

With that clear dismissal, the meeting ended, the first of a very long line…

Oblivious to all that, a delighted Harry was staring at the seemingly endless choice of sweets in a little supermarket. Choice. That was new for him. He could choose what to eat, and when, and how often, and how many! Well, as long as he found money anyway…

Suddenly, a voice behind him startled him from his dream-like situation.

"Hello, little one, can I help you?" said a young red-haired woman with a smile.

"I wanna buy sweets!" he cried happily, then quickly hide his mouth with one hand, ashamed as his demand. Uncle Vernon had beaten him for much less. But Vernon was gone, he would never ever see him again, and this woman seemed nice enough.

"Really? She answered, her smile growing wide, showing her white teeth. What kind do you like?"

Then, seeing his somewhat lost expression, she added:

"These are my favourites."

She showed him a kind that he had never seen Dudley eat before. Smiling his thanks, he took one pack of them and paid. Without even waiting to be fully out of the shop, he began eating, and sighed.

This was heaven.