Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.

Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones

Chapter 6: Fear and Doubt

Magic.

Shaking his head disbelievingly, Harry scrambled to his feet, oblivious to the sound of his chair clattering to the floor as he pushed back from the kitchen table, fear palpable in his stance.

His shoulder pulled painfully, but he swung around away from the worried looks Mrs Weasley had been sending in his direction, his eyes closed tightly. Vaguely, he could hear someone speaking to him, but even this didn't completely register after what Mrs Weasley had just revealed, and the words seemed as if they were coming from far away.

She was wrong; she must be. How could she mock him like this?

He couldn't be a wizard.

Anger began to rise up within him, pushing down any doubts that sat at the back of his mind. If he could really do magic, did she honestly really think that he would have spent the last few years of his life barely surviving? As a wizard, he could have simply made some food appear out of thin air when he was hungry. He wouldn't be starving, barely surviving from day to day as he had spent so much of his life.

He'd spent his life before the streets being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard?

If he was magical, why hadn't he ever made Uncle Vernon simply disappear...?

"No!" Harry shouted, shaking his head violently as he tried to suppress the painful memories he had tried so hard to forget. They were messing with him, Ron and his mum. They were making fun of him, they must be.

Because it couldn't be true.

There was no such thing as magic.

As his eyes snapped open, Harry turned to face Mrs Weasley, absently noting her widened eyes and pale face. His mind was suddenly blissfully blank, as if someone had simply muted his thoughts. In fact, there was only one thought on his mind now.

"You're wrong," he told her desperately, his tone much calmer now, although his pale, sweating face gave his true emotions away, and his eyes failed to hide his hurt and anger. "I'm...I'm sorry. I have to go..."

Before either Molly or Ron could react, Harry flew out of the kitchen door and into the garden, his eyes squinting slightly as the light hit him. Clouds loomed overhead, though, and Harry sensed the beginnings of a storm coming. He would have to find somewhere to hide, somewhere inside. Soon.

Blinking quickly, Harry assessed his surroundings, his disbelief mounting by the second.

He wasn't in London any more.

Fields surrounded the lone house, and as he gazed up at the place where he had just escaped from, his disbelief grew to epic proportions. The house, if you could call it that, looked as if it shouldn't even have been standing. Harry had seen pictures of the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy, but even with his blurred vision, Harry could tell that this feat was even more impressive. There were extensions added onto the original walls that looked as if they were being held on by...

No, Harry told himself desperately. There is no such thing as magic.

Shaking himself as he clung desperately to that belief, Harry turned from the house and began to run down the only path he could see; an old rough track. He hoped desperately that it led to a town, or a city. Anywhere that he could disappear. Anywhere he could become lost.

Hit feet stung against the gravel, but he ran on undeterred down the track. He had left his shoes at the old abandoned pub, but he didn't mind as much as most people would. In fact, when on the run, he would actually be better off without them.

It was one of the reasons he had risked leaving them behind when he had gone to try and help Ron. The trainers he had been wearing recently had been taken from a charity box at a local church, and not only were they in terrible condition, but they were also far too big for him, and felt loose and clunky on his feet. He would be better off without, and definitely quicker.

Spinning round the corner, his feet skidding on the gravel, Harry raised his uninjured arm and swiped angrily at the tears that were falling down his face uninhibited.

This is why he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

He had thought that they were a kind family. He had thought that he had found his first true friend in Ron. He had thought that they had truly wished to help him.

And all this time, they had been stringing him along, all one big joke.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that there was nothing special about him.

Rain began to fall heavily, and Harry shivered slightly as the clothes he had been given began to soak completely through to the skin. Searching the area quickly, as his feet splashed through the newly forming puddles on the rough path, Harry tried to find shelter. Rain was an inconvenience to most people, but to him, it could be disastrous, especially if he couldn't find anywhere indoors to sleep. In fact, the last time that he had slept outdoors during a deluge, he had become so sick in the aftermath that he had nearly died...

But even so, it was a risk he had to take now.

He couldn't go back to Ron's house; it was stupid of him to stay there in the first place. He was better off alone, so that no one could hurt him with fairytales that wouldn't come true.

His life was not meant to have a fairytale ending.

As a young child Harry had actually dreamed of a fairy godmother rescuing him from his life at the Dursleys. But years had passed and Harry had grown up now. Saviours weren't meant to save people like him. He had accepted that a long time ago.

He had allowed himself to forget that in the last few hours, and he cursed himself as he dove under the protection of a tree at the end of the road, pausing momentarily to catch his breath. One kind word and it was as if all his experiences of the last two years meant nothing.

Stupid idiot, Harry thought, chastising himself angrily. You know better than to let your guard down like that.

He had been fooled into thinking that Ron and his mum might actually...care about him, when all along they were messing him around. Like some sick joke.

He was angry, yes, but it was mostly directed at himself. They were sick - or insane, he reminded himself - but it was he who had the bigger problem.

Strange things had happened around Harry, and as much as he wanted to call it coincidence, he had never been truly able to explain why they had happened with so much consistency.

In all honesty that was why Harry was running. His mind was in turmoil, not because of the anger he felt towards the Weasleys, nor because of the disbelief he felt at the revelation, but because he was scared.

He was terrified that magic was real, and that he was a wizard, and that the struggle that he had been through to even be alive today could have been avoided.

He was terrified by the idea that he could have saved himself.

Harry let out a primal scream, as thunder rang out above him, his fists clenched painfully by his side, as he sat on the sodden grass, emotion almost overwhelming him. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

"Harry?"

Harry's sprung to his feet, turning to face the voice, poised and ready to run if necessary. He was out of breath still, and the rain had made his clothes heavy on his back, but he knew that he would still be fast.

"Harry?" the voice asked again, this time with a bit more fear added to the tone. Vaguely, Harry wondered what he was scared of. Rising his eyes to meet those of Ron, who was stood on the dirt path, unprotected as the rain lashed against his body, Harry was struck by how relieved Ron looked to have found him.

Ron was unmoving though, and seemed oblivious to the weather at all. In fact, all his attention was focused on Harry.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, only feeling vaguely guilty when Ron flinched at the tone. He looked miserable and pathetic, his red hair plastered to his face as drop after drop of water fell from his chin.

"Why did you run off?" Ron asked, stepping closer to Harry as he too took shelter under the trees that stood at the side of the road.

"Just leave me alone!" Harry cried as he tried to push past Ron. Ron was bigger though, and much stronger than Harry, who was weak through long term malnourishment, as well as the injuries he still felt from the fight.

"Why?" Ron asked again, and Harry didn't fail to notice the brief flicker of hurt that crossed the redhead's face.

"You've had your fun now!" Harry yelled, his voice muffled against the sound of the heavily falling rain. "The poor little street boy almost thought you might care, but don't worry, you can go back to your stupid lives now!"

"Harry," Ron said desperately, his arms almost wrapped around the struggling boy now. "We do care!"

"If you cared, why would you spout all that rubbish about magic?" Harry snapped. "Was it some sort of twisted game to you? Let's see how much we can get him to believe? Well, I'm not falling for it! Magic...doesn't...exist."

Harry yanked himself free and tried to run, but he was off balance. He fell heavily to the floor, crying out as his shoulder twisted painfully.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry looked up, and was surprised to see only concern on Ron's face.

"Why would you care?" Harry asked bitterly, as he clenched against the pain. "You've just been lying to me the entire time!"

"I'm not lying, Harry, neither is my mum," Ron said desperately. "I know magic is real. I'm a wizard too! I can prove it! Watch..."

Ron pulled a small wooden stick out of his pocket and closed his eyes. After a moment or two, Harry felt his anger rising again in his chest, but was struck dumb by what was happening to the rock that Ron was currently pointing the stick at.

It was changing shape.

Where once sat a rock, now sat an ornate tea set, one that vaguely reminded Harry of one his Aunt Petunia used to own.

Shock reigned over Harry, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. He couldn't believe what he had seen. But there was no coincidence this time. Ron hadn't got lucky. He had made it happen, with that weird stick of his.

Magic.

Harry shook his head desperately as he turned his face away from Ron. "I'm not a...a wizard. Even if m-...even if it was real, I can't be a wizard. I'm just Harry..."

"Why is it so hard to believe?" Ron continued bravely. "Why, when I've shown you what I can do, what you can do too. You can do magic. You heard what my mum said, about the strange things that have happened to you. You must be magical, there's no other explanation! Why can't you see that -?"

"Because I could have saved myself!" Harry yelled, his voice breaking with pent up emotion.

Ron was stunned into silence, and chose the moment to join Harry on the floor, sitting heavily on the wet surface as Harry struggled to control his breathing.

"Do you think I like living like this!? Harry continued, his breathing heavy, oblivious to Ron's state of shock as he continued to talk. "Do you think I want to live on the streets?! I HAVE NO CHOICE! If I was a wizard, I would have been able to save myself!"

"Harry, mate," Ron said slowly, his eyes wide in realisation. "Magic doesn't work like that."

"Stop saying that word!" Harry shouted on reflex.

"Why?" Ron said as he stared into Harry's angry eyes. Ron held the gaze, his expression firm and unmoving.

Because Uncle Vernon had always forbidden it.

"Because..." Harry began, but he trailed off. He lowered his gaze to the grass he was sitting on; he might have been wrong about Ron and his mum, but it didn't mean he was ready to spill his life story.

"Are you scared of it?" Ron asked, but his tone wasn't cruel. In fact, he seemed apologetic if anything. "Are you scared of a simple word?"

Harry closed his eyes, almost as if he was trying to pretend that he was somewhere else. Ron carried on regardless though.

"Magic," Ron said, ignoring the flinch it caused in Harry. "Magic, magic, MAGIC!"

Harry stilled, his eyes shut tight as if he was trying to block out Ron's presence completely.

"It isn't something to be scared of, I promise," Ron said softly, as he placed a hand gently onto Harry's shoulder. Ron let out a huge sigh of relief when Harry didn't immediately shrug it off. "Magic is wonderful and amazing and jaw dropping, but it isn't perfect. People still die in our world. We still have disease, war, famine..."

Harry looked up, tears leaking from his eyes, as emotion escaped from every pore of his body. His mind was telling him that it was rubbish, that the redhead was still stringing him along, but something in his heart was telling him that Ron wasn't lying.

"Magic can't fix everything," Ron continued gently. "It's like my mum always says; spells and potions can get you out of a spot, but it's your brain that'll save you more often than not."

Harry's gaze rose to meet that of Ron's, and the dark haired, skinny boy had to take a deep breath at what he saw. The eyes of the boy in front of him were so kind, so understanding, and honestly, Harry knew he had been wrong. They weren't making fun of him.

He hadn't had a lot of reasons to trust anyone in the last few years, but something about Ron, something in his eyes, told Harry that the redhead boy was different.

Harry, although it went against all his instincts, knew he could trust Ron.

"Are you..." Harry began, gulping loudly as his thoughts and feelings battled each other within him. Harry pushed down the vulnerability he felt, and held Ron's gaze. "Are you really...a wizard?"

Relief was palpable in Ron's expression.

"Yeah, I am," Ron said with a smile. "Well, I'm not fully trained yet. I still go to school."

"School?" Harry asked quietly, shock clear in his tone. "Magic school? Do you think...well, do you think I could go there? Or is it private or something?"

School had been something he had had to sacrifice in the last few years, but honestly, being allowed to go to a magic school...it was something he had only dreamt about in his most private moments.

"You must be magical, so I don't see why not?" Ron answered with a small smile at Harry's excitement. It was as if a different boy was sat next to him. There was still a wariness there, and he knew Harry wasn't saying everything he was thinking, but he had accepted magic and that was a huge step forward. Maybe he hadn't lost his new friend after all.

"But what about money?" Harry asked, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I don't exactly have a lot of savings..."

"Erm, well I'm not sure," began Ron unsurely, as he dragged himself off the ground, "but I think they have some sort of scholarship thing. Dumbledore's sure to let you in though. I heard he let a Werewolf go to the school once."

"Werewolf..." Harry began, shock evident in his every movement. He was moving almost on auto-pilot as he shakily pulled himself off the ground. As he stood there awkwardly, he couldn't prevent a shiver from wracking his body, a fact that Ron apparently did not miss.

"Hey, erm, how about I tell you more about it at our house?" Ron suggested, looking towards Harry with no small amount of concern. "This rain doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon."

Harry stilled warily, but eventually his bravery won out over his survival instincts. He could trust Ron, he knew, but this was all a bit much to take. In fact, it had barely sunk in.

He was a wizard.

Magic was real.

"O-okay," Harry answered uneasily, and he set off immediately lest he change his mind. Ron caught up with him quickly, and they sped up as they dashed through the rain.

In no time at all, Harry and Ron burst through the kitchen door, water spraying everywhere as they shook their hair out of their eyes.

"Harry, dear," Molly said desperately. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't think...I'm sorry I scared you –"

"Erm, Mrs Weasley," Harry interrupted unsurely, hugging his arms tightly around his chest. "I'm sorry I ran off. It was a surprise...I panicked, I suppose, and I thought...well, it doesn't matter..."

Harry looked up and met concerned brown eyes. She was smiling at him, clearly relieved that he had come back, and once again Harry chastised himself for thinking badly of them. He was just so unused to the company of other people, and was just so shocked at what they had told him, that he had panicked.

He had been scared.

"Anyway, I'm sorry..." Harry finished lamely. Had he ruined everything with his stupid reaction? What must they think of him?

"Oh, don't be silly dear," she said kindly, as she moved over to pull an unresisting Harry gently into one of the kitchen chairs. "It's my fault."

Harry nodded absently, and shivered, barely able to prevent a groan as it pulled at his shoulder.

"Here, let me," she said unsurely, clearly wary of his reaction, but Harry was too emotionally drained to protest as she raised her stick – wand – in his direction. Too much had happened in the last few minutes; it felt as if his whole life had changed.

Even though he felt no different physically, it felt as if something within him had changed, as if he had unlocked something. He had an explanation now; he had a reason for everything that had happened in his life that had seemed too strange to be true.

He wasn't a freak.

Dragged from his thoughts, Harry absently noted that the shivers were receding as warmth spread through his body as quickly as if he had just been placed next to a warm fire. His hair, clothes and body was bone dry in seconds, and he had to fight the urge to raise a hand to feel the effects himself.

"Is that better, Harry dear?" she asked quietly, clearly expecting him to react much in the way he had earlier when she had revealed her suspicions.

Instead though, shocking both Ron and his mother, Harry smiled, a small, but warm and true smile.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "It's much better."

Harry's smile grew wider, making him look much more his age, much more like the child he still was.

Magic.

A/N- Thank you so much for all the reviews and all the kind words that people have taken the time out to give me! I appreciate it so much, and it's basically the reason this chapter has been written and posted so quickly. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading!