Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter books and/or movies is not mine.

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time.

A/N: I'm not in the mood to rant, so on with the story!

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Pretend World

By: xScenex

Chapter Four: Give Me Discomfort

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Molly Weasley stared out of her door, shocked, as a young man and a child fell through her open door, completely unconscious.

It wasn't very often she found herself in such a position, with two children inside her house looking as if they'd been through Hades itself. Her shocked mind suddenly clicked into a defensive mode for the children and she hurried forward towards the girl who was halfway under the boy.

She inspected the girl, then the boy. She knew by instinct that things weren't in any good condition. There was blood, the smell of death, and cold lingering on their features.

She did all she knew to do at this point. She yelled for her husband, who was upstairs getting ready to go to the Ministry. On Christmas, of all days.

Moments later, the wiry form of Arthur Weasley appeared on the staircase as he attempted to tie his tie. "Molly, dear, what's wrong?"

"Arthur, come here and help me!"

"What…" his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the two figures on the floor. "Dear Merlin, what happened? Who are they?"

"I don't know," Molly said in a voice of complete control. "But they need help right now. Contact…"

"We can't contact St. Mungo's. Death Eaters are everywhere these days, and there's no telling what they've been doing in that hospital lately. There's been more patient death's in the past three months then there have been in the past two years."

"I'll call up Dumbledore - see if Madam Pomfrey can come take a look at them. Levitate them into the sitting room."

The next few minutes went by in a flurry of confusion as the floo fire roared with urgent calls and many things were prepared for the strangers as the two Weasley adults tried to make them comfortable on the makeshift pallets.

"Do you think they're muggles?" Molly questioned once she turned back around from the fireplace, having been informed that the Hogwart's nurse would be at their house in mere minutes with the Headmaster.

"I'm not sure. We'll find out once they wake up."

"But what if they see us using magic and they are muggles?"

"We'll have to erase their memories," he told his wife seriously.

Molly scowled. She hated doing such things to children. She was about to snap back at her husband when the fireplace roared brightly with fire and out stepped the medi-witch they had been waiting for.

"Poppy!" Molly cried out in surprise. She hadn't realized the woman would be there so soon. Seconds later, an elderly man came through the fire as well, his sweeping robes scraping across the grate. Albus Dumbledore had arrived.

"Molly, Arthur," he said gravely with a nod. "Where are the children?"

"Over here," Arthur motioned for everyone to follow him.

When they surrounded the pallets, Dumbledore shook his head with sad confusion.

"What is it, Albus?" Molly asked, her tone voicing her confusion.

"I recognize the young lady," he told her gravely. "That is Miss Carey Potter, fourth year student in Hufflepuff House."

"She's a fourth year?" the woman was clearly taken aback. "She looks no older than eleven!"

"She's small for her age," he replied then turned his attention on Poppy. "What are the injuries?"

The medi-witch shot the elderly man an annoyed look, "I haven't inspected them yet, so I have no idea, Albus." She huffed and began to poke and prod the boy with her wand. He seemed to be in the worst condition so it was only natural to start with him first.

Molly watched, alert for any signs of the boy showing any pain. As she continued to stare, she became a bit baffled by the boy's looks. It wasn't often that one would see a teenager with such… features. And something about him seemed to pulse with magic - not 'magic' magic, but… enchantment, really. She found that she couldn't explain what she felt coming from the boy, but she eased up a bit. They were no strangers, obviously. If Dumbledore knew the girl, then he must know who the boy was.

Poppy continued her inspection, nodding and frowning at various intervals. She tapped her wand against his right arm for a moment then shook her head. Her wand moved over to the other, but her reaction was the same. After a thoughtful moment, she slipped the wand up and prodded his shoulder. Without warning, the boy let out a loud cry and sat up completely straight. His voice became a strangled cough as he began to try and push himself away in confused panic.

"Back away," the Headmaster commanded the others as the child pushed himself up into a defensive fighting stance, although his head was bowed with pain. He fell limp against a wall, but kept upright. "Don't try to frighten him."

"He'll hurt himself!" Arthur said frantically. "Albus, we must restrain him. He's bleeding; and look at his leg!

There was silence for a moment before Dumbledore took a few steps towards the boy. He held out a hand slowly, "Child, we are not here to hurt you. You must relax so you don't hurt yourself further."

The boy didn't respond vocally, but his body stiffened and shook noticeably. At first, Molly thought he was about to attack the Headmaster, but she was wrong.

She watched as his head lifted up slowly and nearly gasped at the sight. The eyes - his eyes were so bright; so piercing and alive that they seemed to cut right through the very darkness shadowing his face.

Molly was very sure she was seeing something otherworldly at that moment.

Too bad she didn't even know the half of it.

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The pain was flaring through his body, but it was nothing compared to the despair that filled his heart. He was surrounded by people he once knew and loved. Somewhere in his mind, he knew they weren't the same that he knew. There was something off about them. He wanted to flee, like an animal faced with danger, but he knew he couldn't. He would have had to face it sooner or later.

In whatever place he was in, it had to be much earlier on in life. He vaguely wondered if he had gone back in time, but thought against that because even though it seemed to be years before the last battle, Carey had never been in his life up until just recently.

He inspected each person quietly, trying to think out his position. He was encircled by these armed adults, with Carey behind them still unconscious. He had two wounds, and he was exhausted. If his old Moody saw him like this, he would curse the boy for not having constant vigilance.

He nearly laughed at that thought, seeing a mental image of the old auror pointing his wand at the boy and berating him for his stupidity while his magical eye swiveled in all directions. He'd always found Moody to be amusing after he learned the true feelings of the man.

His amusement must have showed on his face, because Arthur and Molly were staring unsurely at him, and Dumbledore's eyes held less twinkle as they had previously.

Harry knew that none of the adult wizards would harm him unless he proved to be any harm to them, so he just decided to relax. But that was a bad idea.

The moment his muscles relaxed, he slumped forward onto the floor against his will. He groaned in annoyance as he slammed hard against the floor but otherwise he didn't make a noise. He'd definitely had worse.

He felt a pair of hands rest gently against his shoulders and seconds later, he was flipped gently over on his back. He found himself staring into the warm eyes of Arthur Weasley.

"Uhn," he gagged on his emotions and turned his head to the side. He couldn't stare at the man for long without getting choked up and a familiar taste of bile formed in his mouth.

"Poppy, what's wrong with him?" the red haired man intoned towards the nurse. "He seems unable to speak."

"He's in shock," she said stiffly. "It's best to give him a bit of space."

"We can't leave him on the floor," Molly said stubbornly. "Arthur, bring him over here."

Harry felt himself being lifted gently. He didn't like the feeling. He was used to being levitated to places - not carried.

"Le-go," he whispered, embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing him like that. "M'fine…"

"No, you're not," he heard the distinctive voice from Molly scold him. A small chuckle from his right and he had to bite his tongue from voicing his distress. He couldn't believe Dumbledore was there.

He began to struggle against the hold he was in, but Arthur turned out to be surprisingly strong. He didn't like that, and began to feel panicky. After the war had officially been announced, he couldn't stand not having control over himself. Voldemort had used the Imperius Curse too many times on him before he was able to ignore it. He hated the caged feeling.

The air around him seemed to close in and he felt his blood grow warm at the adrenaline in his veins. He struggled more and let out a piercing yell. He wanted to be put down.

The air seemed to grow thicker and his imagination provided a stench - one that Harry was acquainted with - blood. He saw spots in his eyes and his mind rushed him with memories or times when he had been held captive.

During the Triwizard Tournament. At the Ministry building after Sirius' death. Up in the Astronomy Tower before Dumbledore died. When he had been captured that following summer by Lucius Malfoy….

"We might have to restrain him," he heard Madam Pomfrey say.

"No!" he screamed as the images flashed by. He started struggling out of Arthur's grip and eventually pried himself away. The ending result was of him falling flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The impact of solid ground was enough to rip him free from his memories.

His breathing was heavy and he was sweating. Harry closed his eyes tightly, hoping that the burning panic would evaporate.

"Dear boy, are you all right?"

"No," he breathed, "No, it… it wasn't…" he shook his head and opened his eyes again, only to find himself staring into twinkling blue ones. A startled look spread over both faces and Harry scurried backwards a bit. He had forgotten they were there.

"It wasn't…?"

"Nothing… just a dream." Harry trembled a bit, wishing only that that had been a dream.

"I see."

Harry took time to look around. He noted that the Burrow looked quite similar to how it had before.

After a few moments of complete silence, he realized that all eyes were on him. His face flushed gently and he sat up slowly.

"Uhm…" he looked down at his hands, which were shaking. How would anyone react towards people who were supposed to be dead? "W… where am I?" he asked shakily.

"You're at our house," Molly provided kindly. "We call it the Burrow. It's near Ottery St. Catchpole."

Harry nodded slightly and looked at Molly with his unnerving eyes. He decided it was time to get things rolling, whether or not his emotions stopped him. "And who are you?"

"I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my husband Arthur," she provided.

He smiled slightly then looked over to Dumbledore. The elderly wizards eyes twinkled and he said, "I'm Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I am Headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And this here," he motioned towards the nurse. "Is Poppy Pomfrey, school nurse. And may we ask who you are?"

Harry's eyes became slightly dull as he stared at the wizard. So many emotions and memories came to him in mere seconds but he pushed them aside in his mind. No use in letting them get to him. He knew that Dumbledore had a way of knowing things, so he had to play his cards just right.

"I'm still trying to figure that out, Sir." Harry's voice was steady and he stared fully into the twinkling eyes.

"What do you mean, m'boy?"

"I have no idea who my true family is, but I have been trying to find them for a long time."

"I see. And what are you doing with miss Potter, here?"

There was a pause. Harry sent a look over at the girl, "I think she is my sister."

"Sister?"

"Yes."

"And why do you believe that?" there was amusement in Dumbledore's voice. Harry knew he was playing at something.

"Because she is the only other Potter I've ever heard of."

"But Potter is a rather popular name, don't you think?" Arthur cut in.

Harry shot him a blank look, which startled the man. The Weasley's ears began to turn a deep red.

"If it's such a popular name, then why wasn't I able to find anyone else?" he questioned calmly.

Arthur didn't say anything to that, although his ears did turn a rather interesting color. Harry felt bad - he didn't mean to insult the man. He was just so unsure of what to do.

"And what has Miss Potter said about this theory?"

"She thinks I might be her brother," Harry told the Headmaster. "She said that I look like her father, and I have her mother's eyes."

He watched the wizard nod his head slowly, eyes twinkling more behind his spectacles. "I did notice a rather uncanny resemblance to you and James Potter."

"Then why are you questioning me?" Harry found himself asking.

"We must take all precautions, my dear boy. The world is not a safe place anymore…"

Harry knew this was his chance to make himself fit into his act. "What do you mean? Why isn't it safe?"

The adults exchanged looks. Harry knew they were uncertain about something, but what, he wasn't sure. Maybe they didn't know he was a wizard - you couldn't tell just by looking at someone to tell if they were magical or not.

Harry decided to put down some cards. "What's that?" he pointed to the wand sticking out of Arthur's pocket.

Everyone awake in the room looked to where Harry's finger was pointed. Molly cleared her throat uncertainly.

"Is it a wand?" He questioned slowly. He watched as the red-haired man nodded gradually.

"So you're like me?" Harry's voice was of fake awe. "You can do magic as well?"

"You're a wizard?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Well, I think so," Harry gave him a shrug. "Someone from the orphanage said I had the ability and showed me some things up until he died last summer. He showed me how to use.. Magic. I thought it was a joke at first, but when I was able to do my first spell, I realized it was true. But he never told me much else besides what he knew of magic."

"So you don't know anything about our world?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "Your world?"

"There is a whole community of wizards," Dumbledore said, his eyes staring at Harry's intently as if searching for something. Harry felt uneasy for a few seconds. "We call it the Wizarding World."

"There's loads more of you guys?" Harry questioned and mentally slapped himself for how childish he sounded.

"More than most would believe," the wizard intoned with a humorous smile. "I would have thought that your mentor would have spoke about others like you."

Harry shook his head slowly. "He didn't seem to know much, himself."

"May I ask who he was?"

Harry thought desperately for a name. "Si… Simon Outlaw?"

Silence.

Harry felt a red flush creep onto his cheeks but he shook it off. If they didn't want to believe him, then that was their problem.

"I've never heard of that surname before," Arthur said. "Was he muggle-born?"

Harry gave the man a confused stare, although inside, he cursed at how quickly they were asking questions. He hadn't even thought that part up yet - all he'd thought of was getting Sirius free!

"I wouldn't know, sir," he responded. "Like I said, he didn't know much, and only taught me what he knew."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, enough of this. We've wasted enough time on talking - Harry, was it? We need to look at your leg. It looks like you've had a nasty wound."

Harry blinked for a moment, then looked down. Sure enough, his pant leg was dark with blood stains. He reached down, realizing that it didn't hurt much. He pressed his fingertips down gently, seeing if the wound was still tender.

He didn't feel much, except for the feeling of pressure on skin.

He looked around, noting that everyone's eyes were once more on him. Shrugging as if this was a every-day normal thing, he rolled the pants leg up, wondering himself why it didn't hurt like it had before. It was stiff, but that was about it.

Seconds later, incredulous stares were on his leg as they looked, only to see a small scar where he thought the wound had been.

"Eh… heh…" was the only thing that escaped from Harry's lips.

All four adults stared at Harry, all wondering what the blood had come from if he was not injured.

"The young girl isn't hurt," Molly said as she cleared her throat.

"Are you positive?" Arthur asked slowly, his eyes trailing over to Carey.

"Positive," Poppy spoke for her. "She has no injuries."

Harry shook his head, prying his eyes away from his own leg. He had a small feeling that it all had something to do with his newly acquainted body - the one of an angel.

"If that's the case," Dumbledore interrupted, efficiently stopping any and all pondering over Harry's leg. "why, Harry, did you bring Miss Potter here, to the Weasley's home?"

He had no alibi for that. He stared at the floor for a mere second before shaking his head, words coming slowly to his mouth.

"After… the Dursley's," he didn't look at Dumbledore, but the man tensed a bit at the name of their relatives. "told me to take Carey because they weren't going to house two 'freaks', I headed out for someplace… I had no idea where I was going, but I jumped on a bus and let it take us as far as possible - which was just about outside of here, I guess."

He looked up at the ceiling. "We were attacked by something once the bus had left - I don't know what it was. I thought it might have been a hunter, thinking us to maybe be a deer. We ran for it, and I thought I was injured, but maybe I had just sprung my ankle. It was too cold to leave Carey outside for the rest of the morning, so I carried her here - the only place I could find."

There was a bit of silence for a moment, before anyone said anything.

"So you were just outside of Otter St. Catchpole?" Arthur asked. Harry nodded slowly and the woman beside the older man screeched.

"There's someone outside of our house, shooting innocent children!"

Harry twitched slightly. "Not exactly outside of your house, Mrs. Weasley. Just a few miles outside of town."

"Miles? You walked miles in the cold this morning just to find a place to stay? How did you survive?" The school's nurse questioned incredulously. "It's nearly zero below out there and you were walking for miles?"

Harry nodded slowly, eyeing the woman warily. Things were getting way too complicated for his liking.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Harry said, his voice stiff with annoyance.

The others heard it in his voice, and dropped it… for the moment. The next to speak up was Dumbledore, who smiled serenely at the others.

"I believe we should take this conversation and situation to somewhere more appropriate. How about we go to Hogwarts? I believe it would be best for Miss. Potter here, to rest in the hospital wing for a while."

The other adults nodded, and Harry felt his blood heat up with adrenaline. The closer he was to Hogwarts, the closer he would be to the rat that betrayed his parents and Sirius.

"What's Hogwarts?" he intoned for show, hoping to keep his act in check.

"It's a school for young witches and wizards," Dumbledore told him. "Now lets go - I think it would be best to Portkey to Hogsmeade and walk the rest of the way. Now, Harry, don't be alarmed by what we will be doing in a moment - it's nothing harmful."

Harry nearly rolled his eyes at how they were treating him, but something in the Headmasters voice sounded false. Harry had a feeling that he might know that there was something more unnatural going on.

Hopefully he wouldn't question it.

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A/N: Yeah, I've had this part written for a while, but I couldn't figure out how to end it. So I've just ended the chapter, albeit a bit… er… lets just say it's crappy. It doesn't really match the rest of the story, because it doesn't indicate Harry's 'difference' but it was neccesary to get things rolling. Flames are welcome.

Min