Freak awakened cold, and aching in the way his body ached after lying still and cramped too long, but not the ache that normally comes after Dudley's catches him, so he knew that he actually, somehow, got away. There was a breeze playing across his face, fresh and clean, almost sweet in scent. He could feel the harsh grit of dirt under him. The sun warmed his face. Slowly, he managed to force his eyes open, against the crumbed muck sticking them together. The sky above him was deep blue, with wisps of grey clouds stretching from edge to edge. His legs were in shadow from a large stone building in front him. Freak blinked a few times and listened to the cluck of chickens, somewhere above his head. Slowly, he managed to push himself up on to his elbows. The house (castle?) at his feet was a light grey stone, all carefully fitted together in giant blocks, like a jigsaw, lacking any real pattern. It was at least 2 floors, with large arched windows regularly along the wall full of delicate lattice of grey lead and tiny glass panels so thick they were wavy and distorted. A single tower jutted commandingly in one corner above what he could just make out was a deep blue tiled roof. The ground around him was desolately bare brown dirt.
It must be so muddy when it rains, was the only thing Freak's fuzzy mind could think.
Suddenly, the front door opened and out stalked a tall thin old man, older than old. His long, white beard straggled thinly past his waist, his skin resembled old parchment paper, and his hands were gnarled and twisted. He was wearing robes of blackest black and bloody red trimming. He was big blocks of colour, harsh and unrelenting. On top his head sat a tall pointed hat, like a storybook witch.
"Gwydion! What are you doing, boy?" The old man's voice was cutting and angry, which had Freak automatically cringing away. When Vernon used that tone it meant days locked in the cupboard.
"I'm sorry sir, but I think you have the wrong…"
"Shut up boy! I bought you, Slave! I own you, so I can name you! Another word of cheek and cane you until you bleed!"
"You bought me?" Freak whispered, "From who? Uncle? He sold me? Why? I didn't do anything wrong! You're wrong!"
The man stilled like a snake spotting prey. His voice was soft and all the more terrifying for it. "You're awfully thick-headed, aren't you? It seems you need to be taught a lesson or two about OBEYING!" And before Freak could act on the instincts screaming for him to run, the man's hand darted out and Freak found himself hanging upside down in mid air. He gave a startled yell, which turned into a howl when a slash of burning pain sliced across his back. The hits, if that what they were, for the man hasn't moved from the doorway a good ten paces from him, go on and on, until Freak could see a small but steady growing pool of blood and tears form beneath him. Soon, forever later, it stopped and Freak's whimpers eventually dimmed, and whatever was holding him up let go so he fell into his own blood which had turned the dirt into mud.
"I am Manannan, and you will address me as Master. You are Gwydion, a slave. You will cook and clean and tend the Keep. If you fail to do you chores I will punish you. If you show me any disrespect I will punish you. You try and run away I will beat you until you can't walk. If I find you stealing or lying I will kill you. Are we clear, boy?"
"Yes." And because Freak had lived with Vernon for as long as he can remember and knows he adds, "Master."
"Good. Clean up and go to your room on the second floor. I don't want to see you until breakfast." The door slammed close. Freak slowly pulled himself upright. His back was one painful throb, and his shirt stuck and pulled at the wounds. His arms and legs felt like jelly. Later, he couldn't tell how he got inside, nor how he found what is clearly 'his room', it being one of only two rooms on the second floor, the other being lavishly decorated in purple, red and pink while his was much smaller and grey. Freak managed to peel off his shirt and used the small basin of water beside the bed and his own shirt to wash the semi dried blood off his shoulders. He didn't wash his back, the shirt had come away in one piece, and he knew from encounters with Dudley that the best thing to do with open welts was to not get fabric or dirt stuck in them. To his not great surprise there was bandages in the bottom draw, and he wrapped them around his slender torso with the ease of long practice of tending his own wounds. Once done Freak collapsed on the bed (and later he would acknowledge that wasn't that a kicker that a sadistic evil wizard gave him a bed, in his own room, while his family gave him a rickety old camping cot in a cupboard) and fell blissfully into deep sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~That Night~~~~~~~~~~~
In his dreams Freak flew through the sky on a motorbike, the wind rushed against his face, and night sky twinkled above. The man holding him leaned over, old and white and bright blue eyes, and the stars fall down and become trapped in those hard endless eyes. And he smiled with too many teeth and say, "You'll be great my boy," and something echoes, "…terrible, but great." And Freak shrunk, smaller and smaller, as the old man loomed over head, until he fall through the old mans hands, down down into darkness, only to land in his cupboard. Outside he heard loud voices which mean nothing. He peeked though the grate to see a police man standing in the lounge room, face stark and impassive. "I'm very sorry Mrs Dursley, both the school and the police are doing all they can, but without any witnesses it is slow going."
Vernon was red in the face, "That little troublemaker! He's run away! Always causing grief for good folk!"
The policeman face didn't change, but something like anger flickered in his eyes, "Well, if that is the case no doubt when he gets hungry or cold he will hopefully report to a police station or return here. But until we have some evidence that Harry is ok, we will continue to search for him. Now Mrs Dursley, I believe you were going to find some photos of Harry for the police to…" And his voice dimmed until Freak couldn't hear it. A knock sounded on the back of the cupboard and Freak turned to see a door in the back wall. He opened the door and a large brown snake, as big as he is, reared up and hissed at him, but Freak wasn't afraid. Instead Freak leapt forward and grabbed the snake and tied it into a giant knot, and his voice was strange, deeper and as thin as smoke when he said, "Some knots can never be untied, but need to be cut to free them." And black crept in, and Freak's mind fall into deeper dreamless sleep, undisturbed by further thoughts.