A/N: So while I was editing this chapter for posting, I noticed some very weird paragraphs I must have written at some point while very drunk. It took awhile to fix and I'm still not happy with this chapter, but... eh. Feel free to point out anything weird, I'm open to constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my two left feet

Pull the Other One (it's got bells on)

Chapter Two

It was cooler when he awoke next. He had rolled under a tree at some point in his sleep, and the shade was quite pleasing.

Harry yawned, stretched, and was happy to find he felt much better.

His head was still throbbing, naturally, and his mouth tasted like something had died in it, but a bit of water would fix that up right quick.

A place like this, overgrown and wild and all untouched nature - there was bound to be drinkable water around somewhere.

So for a bit, he wandered aimlessly, still half-asleep; now that he was a bit less hungover, he could actually appreciate how pretty it was.

This little patch of nature he got landed in was very lovely: beautiful and fierce in a way he'd only ever seen in the Forbidden Forest – only this forest was a lot less, well, forbidding.

Most would think 'fierce' to be an odd word choice; but to Harry, a magic user, the choice was obvious.

He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

It was impossible to miss the strong zest for life echoing out of every crevice, every overgrown shrub, every beast of ground and air. Harry could feel the cohesive hum of natural energy vibrating within him with every breath. The leylines here were thick and heavy with power, and when he stretched out his senses, he could feel a welcoming thrum in reaction to his own power.

Magic had many forms, but nature was one of its greatest.

(He would forever be thankful for his friendship with Firenze: the Centaur had taught him many things during his short tenure as Divination professor, but what had saved Harry from accidentally killing himself were his lessons on leylines.

"The power in leylines," Firenze lectured fiercely one day, after Harry was foolish enough to question whether he could use that power somehow, "Is not something made to be harnessed by mortal hands; it is not a beast of burden, to be muzzled and beaten into submission. Leylines are magic in their purest form: like lightning, should you lack the proper conduit, the power will burn you from the inside out. Do not let yourself fall into temptation; many great men have, to their folly."

Appropriately chastised, Harry solemnly gave his promise and swiftly buried away any thoughts of the power he knows not.)

Eyes still closed, Harry chose a thin, wiggly sort of leyline that headed in the direction of what he vaguely thought to be East, and let his feet take him down the wandering path of golden light. While accessing the power in that light was beyond him, there was nothing stopping him taking advantage of a pre-made path.

Of course, as he wasn't using his eyes so much as his sight to see the path, there was a limit to how long he could continue before his eyes started to burn and the path started to take on a wavy, blurry sort of consistency.

Blinking rapidly, Harry regretfully let go of his sight and focused on his eyes, to find -

- trees.

He looked around, blinking some more just to be sure he wasn't imagining things. Oh, yes, those were, were trees. Lots of trees. In fact, there were so many trees, the game trail he had been following prior to the leyline had all but disappeared.

He was about to panic, when he realized-

-he didn't actually have a pressing need to go anywhere. Other than the water issue, and the fact he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, no one would be looking for him for a few days, at the least.

(He ignored the possibility they might not be looking at all)

He had plenty of time to find his way back and kill Kreacher at his leisure. He had his wand and he had his wits; when had he ever needed anything else?

And besides, he couldn't remember the last time he'd breathed air this sweet and fresh. It was night and day in comparison to the air in London, and Harry didn't see any reason not to take advantage of it.

So he walked. And walked. And walked some more. And failed to see anything other than trees, trees, a squirrel, some purple mushrooms, and more trees.

It took his wand poking awkwardly against his right butt-cheek to remind Harry that, hey, he was wizard yeah?

He was also an idiot, but thankfully one who now knew what to do.

So, two options, he thought, taking a welcome break under the shade of a giant oak.

Option one: he didn't have his broom, but there was nothing stopping him from climbing one of those trees – well, the height was a bit daunting, but he could probably manage it – and being able to see the end to this never-ending gathering of trees. And It would hopefully help him find a way out and into civilization.

Second option: he could use the point me spell and try to find water, the lack of which was becoming very painful. Finding civilization might be hard, as he doubted the spell would work if he didn't know where he was, but where there was water there were probably people. Ergo, two owls with one knut.

(Harry briefly considered the augmenti spell, but as he had no idea what source of water his magic would be drawing it from, it was too big a risk)

Immediate satisfaction vs. the possibility of continuous satisfaction. Decisions, decisions.

In the end, the pounding headache and his achy limbs convinced him that the Point Me spell was the much better choice.

Decided, Harry cleared his throat and intoned dramatically: "Point Me: Water."

(It was his first spell in this unknown place, he couldn't help playing around a bit.)

His wand swivelled in his open palm, and-wait a second.

Did his voice just-

Harry cancelled the spell, and tried again. "Point Me: Water!"

There it was again. His voice sounded... It sounded..

Dropping his wand in shock, he reached up with one shaking hand to touch his face. He felt around his cheeks, his jaw, down one shoulder, down his left hip, further down to cup his-

"Merlin's bloody ballsack!" Harry bellowed, in a high, young-sounding voice. "My bleeding knob's shrunk!"

Suffice it say, after a few frantic minutes of tugging and stretching and jumping about frantically, Harry was very relieved to discover that the family jewels weren't the only thing to have shrunk.

It appeared, in fact, that his entire body had shrunk, and by quite a few years, too. Harry conjured a mirror and took a good look at his face. Yep, somewhere between eleven and twelve. He was relieved to see that the eye-correcting (and not at all illegal, really) ritual he'd stumbled across last year was still showing its effects, so no need for those clunky glasses. It was still quite strange to see his body so small again, especially in the smaller version of the dark red robes he had been wearing prior to this shrinking business.

Harry vanished the mirror, and sat down to think.

This had to be Kreacher's fault.

Harry was quite puzzled. What could the little tosser possibly have hoped to accomplish? Had Kreacher assumed that Harry being younger would make him any weaker, any less dangerous?

As if.

By this young body's age, Harry had already suffered through one attempt on his life—two, if he was twelve instead of eleven. And just because he'd dropped a foot in height didn't mean any of the spells rattling around in his head had been lost. Kreacher was obviously completely off his rocker.

After a moment of consideration, Harry shrugged and thought carelessly, but who cares?

Sure, he was bothered by the change; anyone would be. But all he had to do was find his way home (at his leisure) and kill Kreacher (at his leisure), and everything would be back to normal.

At least this explained why his equilibrium was so off.

So it wasn't only the drinking! Harry thought, feeling pointlessly vindicated.

He tugged off his shoes and wiggled his toes. So tiny! He placed his hands in front of him and wiggled his fingers too, marveling at how small they'd become. This could be fun, if he worked it right.

If he was small, he wouldn't even have to rely on magic to get what he needed. Harry didn't know what sort of people he'd run into, but being a harmless looking kid was always helpful.

Harry could feel nostalgia for his small limbs beginning to pull at memories best left forgotten, so he hurriedly put his shoes back on and stood.

Now knowing what to expect, he placed his wand flat on his palm and cast the spell with confidence: "Point-Me: Water."

The wand obediently spun in his hand and swiveled to point-

-right back the way he'd come.

Naturally.

Scowling, Harry turned sharply on his heel and stomped back the way he came.

By the time he reached the stream, his throat was drier than a desert.

Silently praying his magic would take care of any parasites or other gross shit in the water, he scooped a handful and gulped it down.

Ah, sweet relief.

Harry was really not sure how he'd managed to miss the trickling stream, considering it was a mere ten or so yards from where he'd come to. He blamed it on the hangover, and drank some more.

When he was finally sated, he plopped himself down on the grass and just took a moment to bask.

He was still a bit pissed, sure. Being small was weird, even if he'd gotten over it fast, and getting tossed out here was great and everything, but not having the choice sucked a lot. A lot of that anger would be sated once he ended Kreacher, however, and this green country he'd been tossed unceremoniously into was turning out to be pretty great.

No old, depressing house with screaming bitch; no psychotic fans and press and endless letters; no responsibilities, no people.

No... people. Not even Kreacher. No one at all.

The no people thing is quite lovely, Harry thought. It was lovely. He'd been living a pretty secluded life outside of work for a while now, and while it had taken some getting used to, he was really quite happy about it. That hollow feeling in his chest was simply a by-product of not eating enough, and the fact that he'd been feeling it for well on eight months now had nothing to do with anything.

Really.

In fact, being alone was pretty freaking awesome. Maybe he should become a true hermit, spend the rest of his life isolated from the hum and drum of Magic Society and all the issues it brought, isolated from people altogether.

What a pleasing idea (really).

But thoughts of potential hermet-hood would have to wait. His friends would come for him (they would), so he would just have to enjoy the solitude while it lasted.

So Harry brushed aside a feeling that felt like loneliness and maybe something else, and allowed his stomach to remind him why being isolated wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"Foooooood," Harry crooned, out loud because, why not. He patted his stomach, packed his thoughts away in a nice, tight corner, and stood.

It was time to find civilization.

The spell did work. Eventually.

Harry did have to cycle through a few tries of 'Point Me: Ministry of Magic' and other such variations, before hitting gold at, 'Point Me: People'.

Not the most original or intelligent of phrases, but it worked, which is what counted.

His wand started out pointing south-east, and was slowly but surely moving in the direction of south. The lack of hay-wire swiveling was a bit unnerving. If this were London, his wand would be going mad right about now.

So that rules out... wow, not that many places at all. Harry tapped his chin absently, and concluded that the Highlands was a good enough guess with what he had to go on. Or New Zealand. Maybe he should try, "Point Me: Sheep."

In any case, signs of life, few though they seemed to be, was better than being completely alone, if only for the possibility of shutting up his damn stomach. Magic was all great and well, until you landed yourself in a situation where, guess what, you needed the one thing magic couldn't actually provide.

He really wasn't desperate enough to go slaughtering innocent animals, or go scrounging around for dubious-but-possibly-edible plant life. The last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of his time in this place having a re-run of his Horcrux hunting days.

Harry felt a sharp, unexpected twinge at the reminder of those days and the friends that were with him.

...Yeah, no thanks.

Now was not the time for a trip down memory lane. In fact, he was perfectly happy not to take that trip again, ever.

Harry instead concentrated on the path he was traversing through the slowly thinning woods.

It was definitely a game trail, or at least had been, at the start. As he walked, however, the trail started to look a bit more trodden, in a flattened-by-human-feet sort of way. It was very heartening, and Harry weaved his way happily through another couple hundred feet of foliage (in a skip, which he'll never admit to anyone) before the forest abruptly gave way to an open clearing, and-

Harry threw both arms up in the air and shouted shamelessly: "Yeeeessss! FREEEEDOM!"

There was a clearly man-made/trodden path a couple hundred feet in front of him, large enough to fit a decent-sized vehicle. It went in a wavy sort of line as far as he could see in one direction, while it did an abrupt zig-zag and went down a slope in the other.

Success! Just a road, so far, but, success!

If he followed this path, he would find nourishment, Harry reassured himself. The headache and other such unfortunate hangover symptoms had returned with a vengeance due to all the walking, and the hunger was becoming a serious concern, but Harry was sure his good mood would tide him over long enough.

(Later, Harry would tell himself that he had an excuse: he was tired, he was hungry, he was hungover, and most importantly, he was terribly distracted by enticing thoughts of a hot meal and a place to rest.)

So happy doing excited little twirls and spins, Harry failed to notice his wand suddenly spinning to point straight at him; he also failed to notice the tall body suddenly within his personal space, until he came out of a spin and ran right into it.

Um, what?

Harry suffered through a bit of confused flailing before two strong arms grasped his own and stopped his momentum.

He looked up, and saw-

"Mae g'ovannen," a melodic voice said. It sounded amused, almost indulgent.

Harry stared up into sharp, intelligent blue eyes in a strikingly beautiful face, and could only think, say what?

A dark eyebrow rose, and the man - was it a man? - said something in what was obviously another and even stranger language. It was all Harry could do to identify the strange words as a question, because what?

After a moment of blank silence, the stranger let go and stepped back, looking confused, and Harry belatedly noticed an identical stranger! standing behind him. The other one was holding reigns attached to two horses in his hands, and wow Harry was a dunce, how did he not notice the horses?

The strangers (no, creatures, maybe dryads? Harry thought, they're gorgeous and've got pointy ears and whatnot, so maybe-) exchanged a short, silent conversation before the other one handed over the reigns and stepped towards Harry.

The ma-dryad then dropped to one knee in front of Harry.

Harry leaned back a bit, belatedly remembering to be cautious. From what he could recall of dryads (which wasn't much), they were known for their ethereal beauty, their asexuality, and their very predatory natures (dryads would also explain the very real looking weapons and their frankly odd clothing). If they deemed Harry a threat to their home, they wouldn't hesitate to strike him where he stood.

His wariness must have been obvious, because the creature's face softened, and it calmly raised both hands, palms outward, and spoke soothingly.

This didn't help Harry much, as it was still in that damn language.

The creature's brows tightened, but its tone didn't change as it continued to speak.

With a start, Harry realized what this must look like: here was a kid, obviously too young to be wandering around by himself (and a bit beat up from all that walking around and sleeping on the ground), and with no bags or obvious mode of transportation.

They probably thought he was lost (which he kind of was), and that he was harmless.

Well then, Harry thought, and let himself relax, let himself look vulnerable. This he could do. While his friends insisted he still couldn't lie worth shit, if these two were coming to their own conclusions, he wouldn't have to.

"I. Am. Lost," he said slowly, trying to look pathetic. "Very Lost. Want Food And Rest."

The dryad tilted its head, and gave him a politely confused look.

Harry tried again: "I am lost. Lost, as in, don't know where I am. Can. You. Help?"

...Nope, still looking confused. So much confusion all around, how delightful.

Frustrated at the lack of communication, Harry made a small mistake; a completely accidental, very stupid mistake.

He pulled out his wand, and cast a translation spell.

It wasn't that he hadn't been thinking, no—only, the thought that briefly fluttered through his mind went something like: 'Obviously magical creatures: ergo, Magic is a Go.'

In retrospect, he should have thought a bit harder.

One of the dryads gasped loudly as he completed the incantation. Spell completed, Harry looked up to see the two creatures gaping in shock, hands clasping around the hilts of their very-real looking sword and bow, respectively (they were definitely real weapons).

It took him a moment to put it together. When he did, Harry swore (loudly) and slid his wand (subtly, sort of) back into his pocket. Then he raised his hands (slowly, so slowly).

He could feel the spell working, so he smiled as innocently as he could and, with the new language shaping slowly in his mind, said:

"That... let's pretend that didn't happen, okay? No magic, no nothing, you saw nothing. I swear I come in peace?"

If anything, the two creatures – oh good Merlin, could he really have broken the Statue of Secrecy? - looked even more tense, and their eyes had hardened considerably.

So much for that.