Harry couldn't tell whether or not Lilia was just either bossy or someone he should should be wary of. It almost reminded him of his old house , in the way that his own actions were to be decided for him. If he was to he be given a new name, shouldn't he make it?

If he should be given a new name, why should *she* be the one to give it to him? Why wouldn't, or why shouldn't and cant, Harry be the one to decide this one thing about him? G He always felt it strange that people would be given a name by others then be held to that name for life. Unless they ran away, of course, and changed everything about them. Like Harry was doing. Which just further enhances why he should be the one to give him his own name instead. Or else risk being dragged back to the Dursleys. Assuming they would do that. assuming they were smart enough to. Assuming they even wanted him back.

Not that it mattered in the first place, after all, he had run away and life wasn't static - no! He did something that would be permanent in the way that growth wad permanent, this was his life now unless he wished to change it again. And then, and only then, would he have a new life. "Ok, Lilia. " He smiled awkwardly at her, then the children. Long-term, earning their trust and agreeableness would be good for him and any plans he would have to make. People that trusted you and liked you often did what you asked of them , even if detrimental to their own self.

Now they all smiled at each other and one of the girls in the back of the cluttered crowd giggled. "Do we wait here or-?" The slam of a door cut him off and the lights turned off in a flash. He shuddered at the sound of it but thankfully no one could see. Lilia might've felt it though, as suggested by her squeezing his arm. Weird.

"Shhh ..." Lillia half whispered it, just loud enough for them to hear, "Remember what they told us, be quiet or else they'll get you." Suddenly Harry didn't think this was a good place to hide out. They were practically waiting for whoever they were to get them, in a trapped environment nonetheless! Harry accepted his fate of death, maybe this would make a new day , the beginning of the day, happen again?

Loud, banging sounds erupted from upstairs, accompanied by furious yelling and human barks of English. Retelling this in the future, Harry would describe it was quite hard to explain but they barked in the way that one might expect of some military man, all gruff and loud and getting out the right syllables and words in one rugged motion - all doglike. Then? Quiet. They waited with baited breathes, huddling and holding on to each other like penguins, trying desperately to be quiet and calm. "Are we g-" Once again cut off, Harry scowled at Lilia, who covered his mouth with her hand. Ew, he didn't know what she did with that beforehand. He giggled mentally at that joke. What was even going on at this point? It was so exhausting and none of it made sense! The slight smile that came from his own joke slipped right back off again and he felt his anger surge at the loss of happiness. Ugh this was so annoying, he almost wished for the intruders to just come and take or kill him already.

Then it was silent. Nothing moved - even the very air itself halted as still. All of a sudden, Harry felt hyper aware of everything around him. Ten children. One him. Possible intruders upstairs and no visible way to escape the basement other than upward - close to their assailants. Were they the same type of people as before? In his... What even was that? In his... premonition? Dream? Vision? Oh dear, is he a prophet now? That'd be hilariously ironic. He just hoped it was for someone - or something, he wasn't one to judge - who would take kindly upon children. Or even just take kindly on Harry himself. If the intruders were the same type of people before , would he be able to escape like before? Lilia interrupted his thought - "No one say a word." She whispered, all slow like. And just like and the peace was broken. Why couldn't she have followed her own word? Shouts hit from above as the ceiling tore open above them and - black. Harry groaned inwardly, not again.

He stared at the dull, greyish ceiling of his room for a few moments. It felt like his heart was racing but at the same time, it was all muted. Jack couldn't understand, was he feeling wrong? He knew he didn't have much practice socializing and feeing the associated appropriate feelings but surely it wasn't normal to feel this calmingly conflicted after getting (probably?) killed. Maybe it actually is reality at this point, Jack hadn't heard of such complex dreams before. Unless someone drugged him? Though that would probably involve a lot more linear time, he thinks as though he's an expert on drugs. The Boy took a deep breath and sat up. Soon Aunt Petunia would come to collect him for morning chores and it may start again. He had to figure out something to do before then because if he really was reliving the day, it would be good to actually not die this time - if he was dying in the first place?

The whole thing was quite confusing, not to mention quite illogical. It just didn't make sense! While there had been some weird happening in life, repeating the same day was just impossible. If it was, surely there would be scientists? Evil overlords? Someone using this to their advantage! Evil business owners consistently and constantly seeing their business profits and different branches of what's best!

The boy grit his teeth , it wouldn't do to overthink this on such limited time. Though was it really limited if his days were the same? Maybe he was like a cat, nine lives and then its all over. How many times has it been now? Four? He didn't want to think about it. His course of action would have to include not losing the rest of his lives and so he began to plan. First, he would have to get his shoes from the front door- something that would only slightly alarm Petunia considering the plan the plan that she had included going outside - then get supplies and put them in his backpack. Something that would for sure tip off Petunia.

Yes, this is starting to go together real well. First he would take his backpack - coincidentally it lay at the foot of his bed. How fortuitous. Then he would grab his shoes and go into the kitchen, this part he knew would be the hardest part. Petunia would open his door and be curious why he held his backpack on a non-school day - what would his lie be? He wanted to go to the library later?

Yeah that would probably work.

He'd tell Petunia that he was going to the library later and then he'd grab his shoes to go outside but time it just right so that way the door would be knocked on and then he'd go into the kitchen to grab a few cans of food and a knife then he'd run out of there - easy peasy. The hardest part would then be outrunning the weird secret state-esque people and getting out of there safely without alerting them - hopefully. Jack held no illusions on what it would take to get out, it was good luck he even got out the first couple of times. If it got too much, he'd have to book out out of there with only a single can and a knife, if he must.

Oh yes, it's all coming together.

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Authors note:

Im sure this makes complete sense and you all enjoy it. To the surprise of no one, I lost my will to write for a good bit there and then Covid hit and while a lot of other authors had the time and coping skills to write, my writing went no where quickly. All of this was made in the time it took from last chapter to today so it probably does not fit together well and I'm willing to admit that. If need be, I'll revise but for now, the show is back on the road. Expect future updates for this fic and the others. 3