As Harry tumbled toward the floor, he felt some kind of invisible force move him upright. Harry landed on his feet in a crouch. He took a brief half-second to celebrate being alive, fixed his glasses (which had been knocked askew in the landing) then looked up at the human bean, which was holding and inspecting his thumb and occasionally sucking on it.

"Ow. That was really rude!" The human began looking around for Harry. Coming back to his senses, Harry began running for his life. There was a mouse hole on the far wall. Leaping over a shoe, Harry suddenly found himself there. Shocked for a short second, he turned and ran all the way home.

Leaping into bed and pulling the covers over his head, Harry resolved not to do that ever again.

For the next week, Harry didn't leave home. Skyla would be gone for ten-minute intervals, but she spent most of her time at home. She had brought a spool of sewing thread and two short pins from her room into the sitting room and had begun knitting a scar (winter was approaching). This was an attempt to seem calm, but the fact that it was nearly 18 inches long after a week showed her nervousness.

Nights were frightening for Harry now. You know how when you were little, in bed on a stormy night? Remember when branches would hit the roof over your bedroom and your wild imagination makes you think it's a monster? Well, it was worse for Harry, because when he heard heavy footfalls overhead he knew it was a monster. A human bean. Now, he had grown up with this noise and normally he'd hardly notice it at all, but now that he had been seen it was terrifying.

Event-wise, the week was simple. Harry didn't tell his mother about being seen by the human and vice-versa.

But by the end of the week, they had run out of food, and Skyla, distracted as always of late, only noticed at breakfast time. She'd have to chance a quick trip for something. She took a bag made from a plastic grocery bag, told Harry to stay in his room, and left to the kitchen.

She had learned from a three days of watching the Doctor that he was impossible to predict. He went wherever he pleased, didn't seem to have a job that would cause him to leave, and never seemed tired at all. So she had stayed inside the remainder of the week. She just hoped that he wouldn't be in the kitchen right then.

He wasn't. But a skillet had been left on the stove with half an omelet on it. She went right over and began borrowing some of the food.

The Doctor had been leaving out some food until the last second in case any more tiny people came about for a snack. He hadn't seen any, and it had been a week already and he was about to lose hope. Until, that is, he spotted one using a small teaspoon to scoop out bits of egg, onion, and mushroom out of the pan.

Delighted, the Doctor skipped into the nearest empty room and took out his screwdriver. He began to scan, following the signal to one particular floorboard.

Meanwhile, Harry was rearranging the buttons hanging on his wall. They were each hanging on a tiny needle by one of their sewing needle holes, so they were easy to take down and replace. Harry did this every now and then. He had just taken down a particularly large button and was deciding where to put it when he noticed the sound of footfalls getting louder. They approached quickly and stopped right above Harry, He dropped the button and stood perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling with wide, scared eyes. A faint buzzing sound suddenly became loud, echoing through the boy's room and making a few things vibrate. The boy covered his ears, uttering a frightened cry.

As quickly as the noise came, it stopped.

Harry slowly lowered his hands and eyed the ceiling.

There was a sound of something rubbing up against something else, but Harry couldn't see what was making it. He began to move around in circles, searching the ceiling.

Seconds later, a folded slip of paper fell from the ceiling and landed on Harry's bed. Harry gave another startled cry. His heart skipped a beat skittishly as the footsteps started again, but leaving this time.

Harry stood, unmoving and silent, staring at the folded paper atop his bed for a long time. He'd just decided to unfold it when he heard his mother return home. He rushed forward and took hold of the paper. He shoved it under his mattress and hurried to greet his mother and eat his breakfast.

It wasn't until his mother had retired to her room for her afternoon nap that Harry pulled out the paper sat cross-legged on his bed and unfolded it with trembling hands. His heart was racing madly. After unfolding it twice, he read the small, rather neat handwriting:

Dear Harry Potter—Harry's insides ran cold at these words—I'm the Doctor, and I'm the new lodger in this house. Sorry for frightening you the other night, but I thought I should tell you that I don't intend to harm you. I just want to talk, get to know you, and you me.
So, if you like, meet me tonight in my room, 1 o'clock. Hope to see you there.

The Doctor

Harry stared into space for a while, and then re-read the note. He knew it would be very dangerous for him to go. He knew he shouldn't and that his mum would strangle him with her bare hands if she found out.

But Harry couldn't help but feel like this human could be trusted. Somehow, Harry knew that the man was sincere—didn't know why, he just knew.

And so, keeping the time with a wristwatch in his lap, Harry promptly crept out of his room, carrying no weapon this time.

The Doctor was sitting on his bed when Harry slowly ducked through a mouse-hole in the corner.

"H-hello," said Harry as he looked up at the man. His voice was very quiet, but the man saw him immediately. He came right over and knelt down on one knee

"Hello, there," said the Doctor with a wide grin. Harry made an instinctive back-step, but stopped himself from running away like his brain was screaming at him to do.

"Rather troublesome, talking at this angle, isn't it? Here." The Doctor laid down his upturned hand to Harry.

Harry gasped and his insides churned uncomfortably. This broke so many of his mother's rules and was downright idiotic. But one glance up at the Doctor's reassuring face and Harry's feet lunged forward. He landed on one knee atop the Doctor's palm.

"There we go," said the Doctor with an encouraging smile. Harry caught his breath when the Doctor's fingers curled upward and he used his other hand to shield Harry. The boy's stomach turned to ice when the Doctor stood.

The Doctor walked carefully, minding the tiny boy in his hand. Sitting down on his bed, he lowered his hand to the nightstand. Harry stood and stepped off, turning to face the Doctor.

"Well then, introductions! I'm the Doctor, and you, young man, must be Harry Potter!" The Doctor beamed excitedly and hopped up; he dropped onto the bed on his side. The sudden movement startled Harry and he took two steps back. Swallowing hard in an attempt to moisten his cotton-dry throat, Harry spoke up.

"H-how do you know my name?" he stammered.

"I'm very clever." Before the boy could ask what he meant, the Doctor said, "Really, that's all I know, and you absolutely fascinate me! So c'mon! You, me, let's talk, just us boys." He maintained a childish grin.

Harry wrung his hands nervously. He tore his eyes from the Doctor and aimed them at his feet.

"I…I can't," he answered finally.

The Doctor's eyebrows lowered a bit and his smile became less prominent.

"Why not?" he asked gently.

"I shouldn't even be here." Harry's voice was stronger now, anxious.

"Why?" the Doctor repeated.

Harry turned his face to look up at the Doctor. "My mum warned me about humans."

"Your mum?"

"She told me to stay away!" the boy continued, ignoring the Doctor. "She told me they were dangerous. Monsters!" He took two paces forward, his eyes locked onto the Doctor's. "So why are you stalling? Why this game? Why am I still alive?" Harry spread his arms wide. "Tell me! Why?"

There was a pause between them in which Harry glared up at the Doctor confused and afraid, and the Doctor looked at Harry with sad, contemplating eyes.

"Because," answered the Doctor, "you're very special."

Harry lowered his arms and his gaze softened.

"My mother tells me that. All the time." His eyes watered a bit.

The Doctor's smile returned. "Tell me about your mum. What's she like?"

Harry bit his lip, eyeing the Doctor. He truly wasn't going to kill him. Harry stepped forward to the edge of the nightstand and sat down with his legs hanging over the edge.

"Not much to tell, she's just my mum."

"Well, what does she look like?"

"She's, erm, about an inch taller than me. She's got long black hair, light blue-ish—light green-ish eyes."

"Is she nice to you?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "Why wouldn't she be?"

The Doctor shrugged. "No reason. So! Why does she hate humans?"

"We all do," the boy answered simply.

"We? There are more of you, then?"

Harry bit his lip and was quiet a beat before answering truthfully: "No, it's just us."

The Doctor nodded. "But in theory, there are more of you in the world, right?"

"Yes, of course." The more this conversation continued, the more confused Harry got.

"So!" the Doctor began again, "Your…kind; do they have a name? What do you call yourselves?"

Harry hesitated. "I really don't think I can tell you that," he said pointedly.

This didn't seem to be the answer the Doctor expected or wanted to hear, but he took the opportunity to turn the conversation back.

"Because your mum told you not to."

"Because I love her and I believe in her." Harry's voice was firm.

The Doctor propped his head on his elbow, his expression unchanged.

"Was she the one who told you all those things about humans?"

Harry was taken aback, not prepared for a question like this.

"Well—I—yes…She did. But she doesn't mean anything by it, and I think she has the right to hate humans. No offense to you or anything, but they did kill her dad."

"Really?" The Doctor's face showed concern. "How?"

Harry paused and realized that he didn't even know.

"I…She never talks about it," he managed.

"What about your father?"

Harry thought hard. A minute passed before he answered, "She never talks about him either." What did happen to his father? He had no memory of him, only his mother. Why did he never come up in conversation?

"I see…" the Doctor nodded. He suddenly sat up and was filled with newfound energy Harry was startled out of his own thoughts.

"Well! You'd better get along to bed. Best not to cross your mum if you're not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning." He helped Harry back to the mouse hole; before ducking in, Harry turned back to the Doctor.

"You won't…tell anyone, right?" he asked timidly.

The Doctor grinned. "Cross my hearts," he replied, crossing both sides of his chest with his index fingers.

A grin flickered on and off Harry's face as he took one last glance over his shoulder at the Doctor. He disappeared into the darkness of the wall.

'Humans have more than one heart?' Harry shuddered at the thought.

Having snuck back into his bedroom, Harry couldn't sleep a wink. He began to realize how one-sided that conversation had been. The Doctor now knew a lot about Harry, but the same couldn't be said vice-versa. How could Harry have not noticed this until now? He contemplated this for a while until, miraculously, he fall asleep.

A few days later, Harry was following his mother through the dimly lit passages within the walls. She had told him that she wanted to show him something, something he hadn't seen in a long time. Harry almost couldn't imagine what it could be; he'd seen nearly every bit of the house.

So they walked through the dark for a while, and then began to scale a seemingly endless ladder of staples. Finally, the boy called up to his mother ahead of him:

"Mum? Are we nearly there?"

"Nope," she replied, stopping her climb. "We are there."

There was a rough obstruction ahead of her, like black sandpaper, and she inserted her fingers into a groove above her head. With a grunt of effort, she pushed it away from her. It swiveled and a sliver of light appeared. Skyla opened it further and the brightness that poured in glared in Harry's dark-accustomed vision.

When the glare faded, Harry realized that his mother was already on the other side reaching out a hand to him. He took it and allowed himself to be pulled up.

Harry had never been there, but he realized this place was the roof. Balancing on the rough, sandpaper-like shingles, Harry took in all the details of the outside world, his mouth agape. The cold winter air blew through his already messy hair, filled his lungs, and sent goose bumps up his bare arms; the pine trees lining the distant dirt road appeared incredibly majestic against the pale blue sky; the green ocean of grass extended nearly as far as the eye could see. Harry could do nothing but stare.

The touch of his mother's hands on his shoulders made him jump. She affectionately rubbed them, warming them. It made him realize his cold the rest of him was.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?" she asked. "I brought coats." Harry could only nod.

Skyla un-shouldered her large bag, releasing Harry's shoulders. From it, she pulled out two coats fitted to their exact sizes. She wrapped Harry in his and put her own on.

"Better?"

Harry nodded again.

The woman smiled, then took the boys hand.

"Come. Let's go farther down. Watch out, though, there's frost.

Harry looked down as he followed her. Indeed, the shingles were patched with thin sprinklings of ice.

The two of then descended the sloped roof until they were nearly to the rain-gutter at the edge. Skyla motioned for him to sit down, and they both just sat admiring the quiet winter beauty.

"Amazing, isn't it? I love this season. It's just so quiet, so…muffled. It gives you room think, to feel." Skyla closed her eyes and leaned her back as the few rays of light peeking out of the clouds kissed her cheeks.

"I suppose," said Harry. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself quite as much.

His mother sensed his tone and lolled her head toward him. "How does it make you feel?" she asked, opening her eyes.

Harry hesitated before hugging his knees tight and replying;

"Tiny." And rightfully so. All seemed so huge and faraway to him.

"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised at this. "I feel like a giant."

Harry's head whirled around quickly.

"Really?" he asked, sounding confused. "How?"

"Well, just look around." She gestured to everything around her. 'The ground has never been so far away from me. The trees aren't quite as tall. And the sky is so close, I can almost touch it."

This newfound perspective suddenly hit harry, and a bubble of warmth rose in his chest.

"The world's at our feet," said Skyla, slipping her hand into her son's. This little bit of comfort put a smile on Harry's face.

"Is that why you brought me here?" he asked. "To see things differently or something?"

"Well, if I'm honest, I brought you up here because I was worried about you." She paused a moment to let that sink in and then continued. "Harry, you haven't been acting…yourself the last few days. You've been more quiet than usual, saying you're too tired to do anything but eat, which you barely do. I thought maybe some fresh air and a brilliant view might make you feel better. But remember, you can always tell me if something's wrong." She said all this gently, not accusingly.

Harry's thoughts whirled. He couldn't tell her about the Doctor. He just couldn't. So he did the most difficult thing he could do to her: he lied.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a grin. "I mean, I was ill for a bit, but I'm pretty sure it's passed."

So she could be sure, Skyla scooted closer to the boy and tenderly pulled his head to her shoulder. She felt his forehead for abnormal head. It was difficult to tell, what with her hands being a bit cold, so she pressed her lips to the boy's brow (unknowingly on his lightning scar). His temperature was indeed normal.

"Hmm." She frowned thoughtfully and pulled back. Harry felt a twinge of worry. Did she not believe him?

"You're right, you're definitely back to normal," she said after a pause. Harry sighed subtly in relief. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

The boy looked down at his shoes, shifting as though he were ashamed. "I didn't want to take medicine."

This part was a half-truth Harry really didn't enjoy medicine. His mother would pull apart an antihistamine capsule and he'd have to take one of the tiny particles inside with a cup of juice. The juice was meant to stifle the medicinal taste, but it didn't always do that well and Harry would get a little aftertaste in his mouth that lasted a while.

Skyla chuckled, her turquoise eyes twinkling. "You're just like me," she said softly.

Harry turned to smile up at her. For a moment, he seemed to catch a sort of sad glint to her eyes and smile, but it went away so he ignored it.

Just then, two stories down, the front door opened and the two could hear the indistinct voices of humans. They both shot to their feet, but Skyla was quicker to move. Her hand still clasped in Harry's, she carefully but swiftly navigated around the patches of frost to the rain gutter on the edge of the roof. She crouched but peeked over the edge and Harry followed.

The old man and woman were loading their trunk with suitcases, with the Doctor's help. They were having a rushed conversation that neither one of the tiny people could hear.

"What're they doing?" Harry whispered hoarsely.

"It's their anniversary," his mother replied. She looked at him. "Didn't you remember?"

"I knew that, but I thought they'd go to dinner, and then Bridge at the Henderson house. Why all the suitcases?"

"Didn't I mention it?"

"Mention what?" Harry met his mother's gaze.

"Well," she began, "The Doctor—that's the new bean's name—gave them a load of rent money on the first day. I overheard them last Thursday talking about going on a Senior Mediterranean Cruise. Should last about two weeks, counting the stops they'll make."

"And the Doctor's house-sitting?"

"Basically, yes."

The old pickup truck rode down the gravel driveway and along the long dirt road into the distance. The Doctor waved them off, and then turned on his heel, straightening his bow-tie, toward the field out back. Harry eyed him, wondering where he was going. As far as he knew, there was nothing back there, just open fields and a forest about half a mile down.

"Looks like he'll be gone a while," said Skyla, standing and adjusting her coat. "Might as well find something special for dinner. And before you ask, it'll be a surprise," she added with a teasing, devilish grin. "Come on, let's go."

"Actually," Harry stood, "Could I stay out here? It's just too beautiful to go to waste."

Skyla nodded. "As long as you can get back okay."

"I promise I will, mum."

With a smile, Skyla disappeared through the loose shingle.

The second she was out of sight, Harry began to scale the slanted roof. The Doctor knew too much about him, and it wasn't fair. If Harry was going to find out who this Doctor was, now was the time.