All you should fall on the ground and worship me for editing and putting this stupid, horrible fic back up…it is to some degree re-vamped…I cut a lot out, and I haven't even gotten started on the rest of it, but I'll finish it later and it should be up soon…I haven't decided whether or not I'll finish it, but for now it'll just sit here, and all of you can delete your copies and enjoy this one…/smiles maliciously/ please /strokes knife/

This is such, utter, complete crap…but if you like it—hey knock yourselves out

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter...then everyone would wish I didn't.


Chapter One: It's an Introduction of Sorts.

Harry sat with his hands on the rusty chains, every so often adjusting his weight just enough for the swing he had claimed earlier that afternoon, to begin lazily moving. Harry leaned back as an older girl blocked his view of the man who was drawing something. The man stilled his pencil and glanced up at Harry, who beamed at him causing the man to smile and start drawing again.

Harry began swinging full force after this happened. The man seemed very nice though Harry had only been watching him draw for a couple of hours.

The church bells began ringing the hour, and Harry halted his swing, counting.

One... Two... Three...

Four... Harry sighed and got off his swing, it was time for him to go back to his house... not home...never home... He spared one last glace over at the man. He was looking skyward and had his hand clenched around his pencil. Harry grinned at him; he was funny.

As Harry walked by the bench on the way to his house the man was lighting a cigarette, then he promptly put it out. Harry was reminded of his aunt Petunia's words 'Nasty habit, smoking is. Haven't they ever heard of lung cancer? Or second hand smoke statistics?'

Harry just prayed they would try to quit before any of that happened—whatever a statistic was, anyway.

As he walked by the man flipped the page of the sketchbook he had been drawing in, and Harry froze. The sketch was of him.

Harry watched as he picked out a new person to draw, he wanted to—no, he had to get back.

Harry ran off to the park, school had just gotten out, and there was no way he was going to miss his chance to play.

Harry stopped when he saw the artist man from yesterday sitting on a different bench with a man with dark hair, and they appeared to be arguing. Harry watched as the artist guy pulled out a cigarette and was about to light it—only to have it ripped away by the dark haired pale man. That action sent them both into a rage.

Suddenly the artist guy stood and said, "...Not worth it... away." Then he waved his hand at the dark haired man to accentuate the 'away'.

Then the dark haired man stood up and glanced around then park before disappearing—just like that! Harry stood there gaping at the place where the man had disappeared.

Seconds later a pair of honey colored eyes settled in front of his.

"I think it'd be best if you told me how much you saw." The artist man said softly, but he wasn't angry—Harry saw this as a good sign.

Then the two eyes widened and the pupils dilated, and then the man breathed, "Holy shit."

Then the eyes wandered to Harry's forehead.

"Damn!" the man exclaimed, angry, he also received a look from a mother with a young child. Then calmer, "What's your name?"


Then the man covered his eyes with his hands, and drew himself up to his normal height mumbling, "Dumbledore's going to maul me."

Harry looked up at the man hesitantly—he wasn't supposed to ask questions—and asked, "Who's Bumble—?"

"Dumbledore." The man corrected automatically, still cursing quietly, but now Harry couldn't hear him—nor could the disapproving moms walking by.

Harry blinked and then asked quietly, disheartened by being corrected so quickly, "Who are you?"

The man promptly stopped his almost inaudible ravings and looked down at Harry, "Me?" He asked, "I'm Remus Lupin."

"Who was the man that disappeared?" Harry asked beginning to warm up to the man, he for some reason immediately trusted him with everything.

"I knew it, I knew you saw." Remus exclaimed looking really upset with himself.

"Why do you draw?" Harry asked.

"Because kids are the weirdest things on the planet, and I like to draw them being kids." Remus replied. Harry gave him a funny look.

"I'm an artist." Remus clarified, grinning.

"Oh." Harry said.

"So Harry what brings you here? Shouldn't you be at school?" Remus asked glancing at his watch curiously.

"School's out." Harry replied with a smile, "I wanted to play before I went home."

Remus nodded and said, "That's understandable. Where's your school?"

"Thataway," Harry replied pointing in the direction of his school.

Remus nodded; there was a primary school, brand new, not even a block away. Harry must walk to school.

"Can I see it?" Harry asked suddenly.

Remus blinked and stared at Harry and demanded, "See what?"

Harry smiled and said, "You were drawing me yesterday."

"Oh." Remus looked extremely relieved, for some reason—Harry couldn't fathom why—and shrugged, nodding, "Sure."

Harry followed Remus to his car the model was a couple of years old—probably as old as Harry—and was silver (funny mix that is, ne? a werewolf with a silver car). Remus opened the back door and pulled out the sketchbook. The drawing was of Harry leaning back on the swing and grinning, he had done so several times the other day because he was curious. Harry couldn't tell though, but the detail was excellent and had the drawing been colored in it would look like it was real.

Harry looked at the picture curiously. Then smiled and said, "Neat."

Remus smiled and shook his head at Harry's childish innocence. Remus suddenly remembered something and said, "Well, why don't you get back to the park and play before you go home?" He then gave Harry a gentle push back in that direction.

"But who was that guy?" Harry demanded.

Remus mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Persistent aren't you. He was an old friend of mine, but now he and I don't really like each other anymore."

"Why?" Harry asked in a childish singsong voice.

Remus glanced down at him and asked, "How old are you?"

"Six." Harry replied.

"That's what I thought. We just don't get along anymore." Remus replied, once again giving Harry a gentle nudge back to the park.

This time Harry went, slowly though.

"Hey, do you happen to live on Privet Drive?" Remus asked looking worried and gnawing his lower lip.

Harry began fidgeting uncomfortably and then took off running as the church bell chimed four times.

Remus though got the message and began rubbing his temples mumbling about 'I'm going to be killed' and 'I should have known, it was such a good deal on a house'.

Harry's aunt and uncle were going out of town and he was supposed to stay with Ms. Figg. Harry did not like Ms. Figg; she smelled really bad and had too many cats. Now don't misunderstand, Harry did like cats but there were just too many of them in her house.

Harry already felt like sneezing.

He softly padded back into his cupboard were he was supposed to have been locked in, but Harry had never had any problems with locks, ever. He was the kid all the kids on the block went to ask for help when locked out.

He went in the cupboard and softly shut the door and then held his hand up to the lock and with a soft cling it fell into place.

"You behave, boy! And no talk about your cupboard you understand?"

Harry nodded at his aunt not hearing a word she said but not that it mattered it was probably the same thing she always said... whatever that was.

"Good now come on, let's go, I can't miss my plane."

"Uh huh." Harry muttered softly.

She yanked Harry's wrist sharply and pulled to Ms. Figg's door. Harry following silently, not fighting her pull, it would be worse if he did... much worse. His aunt rapped on the door and it slowly opened, his aunt pursed her lips and squeezed Harry's wrist tighter, if she didn't stop it would bruise. Harry twisted his arm slightly to become more comfortable, not that it helped any his aunt only held him tighter then.

Then Harry was saved for the door opened and Harry was released. Ms. Figg kicked several cats away from the door and invited Harry in.

Harry smiled as he saw his favorite cat, Shadow, come over and he scooped the small kitten out of the mad fray to get to the door, and went straight into the living room.

Ms. Figg came in after a couple of minutes and looked at him. Harry looked back and they started their week off the way they always did.

"So... I'll go make dinner?" Ms. Figg asked.

"It's five-thirty, that's early even for me." Harry replied softly while staring pointedly at Ms. Figg because she was staring at him.

"Oh, well..." Ms. Figg looked around the room, she always seemed so uncomfortable around him, and that was a welcome change from the loathing he was used to. In this relationship he held the power over another person, and it was defiantly better than being hated.

Unfortunately when Ms. Figg stopped liking him then he would be sent to another baby-sitter and then all of the power he had would be gone. Not that he really wanted it.

"A friend of mine will be coming over later just so you know, actually a couple of friends of mine. So I figured you could maybe go to the park?" Ms. Figg said, it was a suggestion.

"I guess I could," Harry replied softly, he would wait one minute before running out the door—sixty, fifty-nine...

The two of them stared at each other in silence for a moment then...

"Bye Ms. Figg." And Harry was gone.

The park wasn't empty just yet; there were still the kids who came without mothers and the mothers who came without kids and the kids whose parents could care less. It was the last ones Harry went to.

"Hi, Harry," a girl that Harry was friends with said, she was poised at the top of the slide keeping all the other kids from going down. She was one of those mean kids who hung out with kids who couldn't defend themselves. She did it until they could defend themselves and then they became partners in crime.

Harry was getting there.

"Hey, Alley," Harry called up to her, "What're you doing?"

She went down the slide and grinned at Harry when she landed daintily, "I'm ensuring my place on the slide."

Harry snorted.

"You know that guy, the one who was drawing you the other day," Ally said grabbing his arm and pulling him over to the swings, "he lives up the street from you. Where Tabby used to live?"

Harry took a swing and asked, "Really?"

"Yes, oh and um..." Alley blushed, "I'm locked out of my house."

Harry laughed and stood up again saying, "Well, let's go."

"To where?" Alley asked grinning, "My house or to spy on the artist?"

Harry stuck out his tongue and replied, "Your house."

Alley grinned and the two of them walked off, Alley began talking about how leprechauns could open locks the way he could and how he's certainly short enough to be one.

They arrived at Alley's and Harry held his hand over the lock and it unlocked itself, Harry stood back and Alley opened the door looking awestruck. Harry knew for a fact she forgot her key on purpose to see Harry do that.

"That is too cool." Alley said as she walked in, "way too cool."

Harry grinned and said, "You're buying me lunch tomorrow, and if you don't you'll find that your house will begin locking you out even with a key."

Alley grinned and said, "I've taught you well, but I buy you lunch anyway."

"Then don't worry about it... can I borrow your bike?"

"Well I owe you something, come on." Alley pulled him into the house and she and Harry went back outside and to the side of her house. Her bike was chained up to her fence. Harry grinned at her and held his hand over the lock of the chain and it fell open.

"Soooo cool!" Alley gushed looking absolutely amazed.

"I'll be going then, See you tomorrow Alley." Harry called to her as he rode off, not looking back; he wanted to get back to Ms. Figg's before her friend left so he could see who it was. He rounded the corner and the first thing Harry noticed was that there wasn't a car in the driveway.

Harry carefully put the bike down on the side of the lawn and the softly padded up to the doorway, he checked it, and it was locked. Not that he hadn't expected anything less, and Harry for the third time that day held his hand over a lock and it unlocked itself. Harry then opened the door slowly.

I spy with my little eye something red... hair, red hair. It belonged to a man and he had a kid with him, the young boy was six also.

Harry eased open the door and walked in shutting the door behind him, not locking it—it would help his story if the door was unlocked; he needed and excuse in case he was caught.

Several cats became aware he was there and he signaled to them not to come, and they all sat down there in the middle of the hallway. Harry stifled a giggle at the way they looked.

The redheaded man was talking about him and his bad conduct grade—like it was his fault he was forced to defend himself from bullies...oh...he knew about that? Now that just struck Harry as odd, he had never seen that man before and yet he knew about Harry.

Harry gave the cats their signal and they rushed at him and Harry yelled, "Ms. Figg, I'm back!"

"Come into the living room, I want you to meet someone." Ms. Figg yelled back.

"I bet she does," Harry muttered to the cats that followed him in.

Harry walked in and leaned against the doorframe, all the cats surrounding him and asked coolly, "Yes?"

"This is Arthur Weasley and this is his son Ron, he's your age." Ms. Fig said kindly.

'Someone's acting a bit,' Harry thought and then he turned to Ron who was openly gaping at him.

Harry turned to Ms. Figg and asked slowly, unsure of how to word it, "Is he... sound?" Harry tapped his head.

The cats sat down and looked inquiringly at Ms. Figg. Harry giggled a bit at the cats' behavior. Arthur Weasley stared at the cats; there was no noticeable change in Ron.

The cats tilted their heads as though asking for an answer and Harry leaned against the doorframe, his small body wracked with laughter.

"Yes, Ron is sound." Ms. Figg replied and the cats stood up, Harry fell onto his side laughing. The cats converged around him trying to see of he was all right.

"You're really Harry Potter?" Ron asked awe filling his voice.

"I'm really that notorious?" Harry asked right back.

Ron blinked, for he had no idea what notorious meant.

Harry grinned and pulled himself off the ground saying, "I need to use your phone Ms. Figg." Then he walked out of the room.

Harry called Alley and told her about what happened and the two of them decided to check it out as soon as possible, which meant Harry would play the innocent pickpocket. He had to get some evidence before Arthur Weasley left.

"What about Ron?" Alley asked from the other end of the phone.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Harry asked himself.

"Hop to it Potter, we don't have much time to waste if you don't want to leave this a mystery."

"You're right, Alley, so bye."


Harry hung up and walked back into the living room. Ron was still to cozy up to him...

Ron stared dazedly at Harry as soon as he appeared again.

Harry smiled shyly—Arthur Weasley's presence was beginning to have its effect on him, Harry was extremely shy around adults he didn't know—and said, "Hi."

Ron stood up, he had a bossy air about him Harry did not like bossy kids, and asked if he wanted to go play in the back yard.

All of the cats came up into the living room and surrounded Harry. Harry had no idea why they did that every time he stayed here, it was really weird.

Harry and Ron went outside and Harry began talking to him, asking about his family, friends, and his hobbies. The last one got him a good lead—Quidditch.

"What's Quidditch?" Harry asked him.

Ron stared at Harry shocked and explained the entire game to him. The entire game was played on flying broomsticks. Harry found that a bit odd and asked Ron how they flew.

What was even more curious was his answer—magic.