He was with that strange boy again, Harry. He looked younger and less troubled. He was sitting up on the bed polishing a…broom?

"Harry dear! Could you come here a second?" the older red haired woman, Mrs. Weasley yelled from the bottom floor.

"I'll be there in a second Mrs. Weasley," the boy, Harry, yelled back. He quickly, but lovingly, placed the broom on his cot and let his fingers linger on the handle as he walked out the room.

The moment his feet touched the first floor landing, he knew that something was wrong.

"What is it Mrs. Weasley? Did something happen?" Harry asked starting to worry.

"No, no. Nothing is wrong, dear," she said shaking her head softly. Mr. Weasley was next to her. He could see their children sitting in the front yard outside. It looked like they were talking about him from the way they kept glancing at him.

He could tell from her voice that, that was a lie. He let that slide and gave her his full attention.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know how to say this but don't get us wrong, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley started to say.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid that you'll have to find a new place. It's not safe here," She said. It was half-lying, half-truth, but mostly half-lying.

"Oh," was all he could say. The two older adults exchanged a look. This wasn't how they thought he'd react.

"Do you understand, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Yes, I do understand. My hearing is fine, but why?" He asked dumbfounded.

"We said it's not safe."

"I know that, but I can take care of myself, away from your family, if that is what you want," Harry said angrily. The house seemed to rattle slightly.

"Harry that's not what we mean. We mean only the best for you," Mrs. Weasley said. She sounded like she was about to cry.

Harry sighed, frustrated at himself. 'Things are not going as they had hoped,' he thought. "Mrs. Weasley save your tears for someone who you really care about."

"Harry, dear -," Mrs. Weasley started to say before getting interrupted by Harry.

"Don't! Just don't. Just forget I was ever here. I'll be gone before lunch starts. I'll be out of your lives. You know what? I really believed that you guys cared. What an idiot I am," he turned to go up the stairs. He whispered, "Just like my relatives. I must be bad and worthless. I don't belong here or anywhere. Hush you."

He darted up the long, uneven steps until he reached the last room on the top. He could hear them coming up the steps before he could close the door with a glow.

"Harry!" they cried out.

He didn't answer them, but instead he flicked the stick, a wand. He mumbled something and everything that belonged to him shrank and disappeared into a trunk. Someone hurriedly pounded on the door, shouting his name. He looked around the room one last time trying to find anything that might have been his, but found nothing.

He opened the window and looked behind him. He flicked the wand again and the trunk shrunk, he placed it in one of his pockets. The door rattled and glowed just as he grabbed his broom. Was he going to fly?

"Harry! Open the door! We need to explain ourselves!"

He waved the wand once more before the whole door broke open. The whole family was there breathing heavily. He started to back away from them.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley tried to coax him.

"You will always remember that this will be the day that you almost made me believe that I was apart of your family and - " before he could finish, a discarded shirt, most likely one of Ron's, made him slip right out through the open window.

"Harry!" they yelled and someone screamed.

He was reaching the ground fast. Just a few feet away from his untimely death, he remembered the broom and that he can apparate. He quickly scrunched up his face, concentrating hard on where he was going.

With a 'pop' he was gone from the Weasley home and fell on the cold wooden floors of his unused room in Number Four, Private Drive in Little Whigning, Surrey.

"What was that ruckus?" he heard the large man yell. "That brat better of not had done something!"

He was winded from the impact. As his uncle drew closer, he staggered up and leaned against the vacant bedpost.

"What are you doing here again? I thought we were through with you and your kind," his uncles' fuming scarlet face bellowed in front of the door when he opened it.

"Sorry Uncle Vernon," Harry said automatically. "I needed a place to stay for a day or two." He looked around the room and noticed the blue and white pinstripe wallpaper that came with the white crib full of stuffed animals.

"Humph. I bet your freaks kicked you out," Uncle Vernon said crossing his arms. "I knew you'd crawl back to us."

"You're partially right, Uncle Vernon. I know we left on neutral terms, but I really need to stay here at least for a week," Harry pleaded. He hated how pitiful he sounded.

"We put the clothes on your back, a roof over your head, and we gave you our food. Now you come back to us expecting that it will be handed to you freely. No, not this time boy! You will work for it if you want to stay here. It's either chores or you're out of here. Well what do you say boy?" Uncle Vernon asked gruffly.

Harry was awestruck at his uncle for actually letting him stay. Work sure, but to stay? What has overcome the world? Has he somehow stumbled into a parallel universe?

"I'm not going to wait forever boy!"

"All right. I'll work for you in exchange for a room in your household. Thank you" Harry said trying to sound not to pleased.

"You better be grateful boy! Put your stuff back in the cupboard. You start your chores in five minutes! Go to the kitchen," his uncle said turning around.

"What made you let me stay?" Harry asked tentative.

"I could change my mind and kick you out in the streets where you belong," Uncle Vernon huffed out.

"Never mind," Harry said. He waited until his uncle had left to tell his family of their visitor before he enlarged his trunk. He changed into a long sleeved shirt and muggle jeans before he checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable enough in front of his relatives.

'What are we doing here now Harry? And why a cupboard?' a slithering voice asked mused.

"You saw what the Weasleys' did. I needed to go to the last place they'd find me," Harry said trying to smother his hair down.

"Your hair is too stubborn, so what's the point? Anyways, Harry, we could still sneak back to Salazar's renovated castle that I personally created. Or we could go to my muggle father's home. Only say the word and we're there in a snap," the slithering voice said. There was no visible person in the room with him, but he could feel the man was still with him.

"No. I need time to think," Harry said waving off the voice.

"Whatever happened to the life of fun and adventure you promised me?" the voice asked.

"It has been delayed, but get back here. No more leaving, it drains me and don't think of overshadowing me," Harry said.

"As you wish, after all I follow by your rules now. What you say is law," the voice said before it disappeared.

"Laws can be broken," Harry mumbled.

Harry went to the kitchen and got the list of chores he was suppose to finish. He found out that there was a new addition to the Dursley household by the name of Bruno Dursley, the poor babe. It was awkward, but that was erased as he went to do the task at hand. He fixed them their lunch before rushing to the lawn to trim the hedges, mow the lawn, weed the flowerbeds, fix the flowerbeds, water the flowerbeds, put new bricks along the flowerbeds, and the list just kept going on and on with the flowerbeds until it ended with dinner.

Whereas the morning was cool with dew in the air, the afternoon was hot and humid. Sweat dripped off his brow and it made the clothing on his back cling to him like a second skin. Frustrated, he stabbed the spade on the ground and peeled the shirt off. He threw that on the ground just as it started to rain. The rain gave him a slight comfort as it pelted his back with small drops of rainwater.

He kept on working despite the fact that it kept on raining harder and harder. He had to work or else the Dursleys will kick him out. The wind was whipping leaves and twigs at him. Was that a newspaper?

"Get a grip Potter. You can handle some wind and rain, it's not like you'll get struck by lightning, right?" he asked himself out loud. "I mean they wouldn't leave me out here expecting me to do all these choirs while they stay inside at the comfort of their home…with their family."

"Boy! You're still out here? Get in here now!" Aunt Petunia screeched as she tried to keep the door from blowing away.

Did he just hear her right? He's not going insane right? They actually wanted him inside? 'It is official folks, I have somehow stumbled into a parallel universe where the Weasleys hate me and the Dursleys care about me,' Harry thought as he grabbed his soaked shirt and headed inside.

"Just stand there and shut the door boy! I don't want you ruining my beautiful floor again," Aunt Petunia said.

Harry did as he was told, but when he turned around to close the door he heard his aunt gasp. He looked at her and found that she was pointing at him. He thought there was a stray bug or something on him and he tried to swat whatever it was away. "Is there something on me?"

"What happened to your back?" he heard her whisper.

"Oh, it's nothing too serious," Harry said. He shrugged his soaked shirt on with difficulty.

"Wait! Let me see and tell me what happened," his aunt said coming towards him. In all his years with living with the Dursleys he has not ever saw them show him kindness and compassion as they are now. What has changed?

"You remember the man who killed my parents?"

Jack woke up and found himself back in a bed naked, where he does not remember getting into.

"Scarlet? Giselle?" Jack whispered hoarsely.

He used his arms to feel for a body that would normally be there for him when he stopped in Tortuga. When he found no such body, he remembered that he was in Port Royal.

"I'm still here?" he mumbled back into the pillow.

His back was starting to feel really itchy. As he went to scratch it, there was something muffling the effects it normally had. He turned his head and found that there was fresh linen cloth serving as his bandage.

"Elizabeth it is not safe for Jack out there," Jack heard whispering to Elizabeth. It sounded like they were on the other side of the door.

"I know, Will, I know," Elizabeth said wearily. "He's a pirate and the East India Trading Company are still hunting after pirates. I just think…"

"You think that he'd be better out there than in here?" Will finished for her.

"Yes, but…"

"But what, Elizabeth?" Will asked making sure he kept his voice low as to not wake up their guest.

Jack heard enough from them. First, his crew and now the two people whom he has regarded almost close to kin, with the exception that he will use them for the opportune moment.

"This is wrong. I don't want to see him die," tears were shimmering in her eyes but they did not fall.

"We've watched him die before," Will said.

"Yes, but last time it was from a distance and it was quick. Last time, I was the one who caused Jack to die. I was the one who chained him to the Black Pearl. I was the one who kissed him to distract him so that all, excluding him, could live. I wasn't sorry back then, but I am now."

Will gasped. This is something that he wanted to know why she kissed him in the first place and now he knew. "But you only did what was best."

"For you. For us. A chance to have a life together. But I think I've caused enough problems for Jack," Elizabeth said hugging Will as he hugged her back.

"I think we each have had our share of causing pain to each other Elizabeth," Will said trying to comfort her.

"But did you see his back when Mary bandaged him? I knew he was branded as a pirate, but I think Lord Beckett went too far with flogging him," Elizabeth said looking into Will's eyes.

"I don't think it was Beckett that did it. Someone called Voldemort carved his or her name or something onto his back. And those weren't any sword lesions I've seen; it looked more like a whip and a blade."

"Why would anyone do that? I mean Jack has done some things in the past, but nothing too bold. Right?"

"Only Jack has the answer to that," Will said. He thought he heard something moving in the room. "Jack? Is that you?"

"Will what is it?"

"I thought I heard movement in there."

"Well he's probably awake now from all this talking," Elizabeth said letting go of Will.

He opened the door to find that the room was empty and that the window was wide open. There was a bed sheet hanging out of it.

"Jack."