Harry panted, running and dodging others in a school hallway was much harder than it sounded. For example, he nearly plowed into a teacher coming out of the teacher's lounge. Lucky for him, Dudley was so big it took him awhile to get by everyone. Harry was fast and thin, so it was easier for him. Unfortunately, the hallways were clearing as the students weren't near the cafeteria during non-operating hours. He looked behind him and saw Dudley and his small gang starting to catch up.

Harry gave a quick look around. He was basically in a dead end, with only the cafeteria and classrooms to run into. Unfortunately, the cafe was locked and the classrooms wouldn't like him bursting in during a lesson. He looked around for an exit door, if he could get outside then he could make his way around the building to get closer to his class, where Dudley couldn't get in. However, there was no door that led outside, but there was an open window, and they were on the first floor.

Hearing Dudley yell from behind him, he quickly made his decision. Harry ran to the window, and as soon as he was on the ledge, prepared to jump off, hoping to land somewhere near the dumpsters that were to the left. However, as soon as his feet left the ledge and he heard Dudley's triumphant yell from behind him, he felt an odd, squeezing sensation, like his body was being pushed through a tube of toothpaste.

Suddenly, he felt his feet make contact with the ground, only it wasn't the ground. Somehow, Harry was standing on the roof of the school! He twirled around, trying to get his bearings and figure out just how he had appeared two stories above where he just was. However, he did realize two things while pondering this intriguing development. One was good, and that was that there was no way Dudley could get up here. The other was rather disconcerting, as he realized he had absolutely no idea on how to get back down.

He looked around, trying to find a maintenance door that he knew they had to use to get to the roof if it ever needed repairs. However, all he could see was the mass amounts of metal around the roof that were the ventilation and plumbing systems. There was no sign of the door. Then he realized that he should be able to see the other rooftops, but when he looked over an edge he realized he was on the cafeteria roof,which meant he was a good 15 feet above the rest of the building. There was no way he could get down to the other roofs, a jump like that could break a leg. So how on Earth could he get down?

It was some time later that Harry found the answer. Apparently, he would get down with the help of the firemen and their tall ladder. Of course, the school had to call his family, even though Harry was unharmed, he still somehow ended up on the school roof. Needless to say, Uncle Vernon was not pleased. He didn't dare say or do anything suspicious in front of the school faculty or firemen, but when he got Harry home, he exploded.

"WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT DOING FREAKY STUFF BOY!" He yelled, his face turning a disturbing color of purple. "YOU'RE JUST LUCKY I DIDN'T GET MY HANDS ON YOU EARLIER!"And with that statement, he viciously grabbed Harry's arm and started dragging him toward the cupboard, and didn't even stop when there was a loud snap. Probably due to malnutrition from years of being starved at the Dursleys and the stress from the day and force of Vernon's grip, Harry's arm suddenly broke. None of the rest of the "family" cared, but Harry was in immense pain. Suddenly, he felt something different.

The something was similar to what he felt, just before he landed on the roof of the school. Not the squeezing sensation, but there was a sudden rush of energy. Harry's pain was dulled, for the moment, and he felt angry at his so called family. Not only that, but the energy started to flow to where Vernon's hand was. Vernon suddenly pulled his hand away as if burned, and turned to look at Harry, ready to yell and hit the boy if needed, but the words died on his lips, his hand fell to his side, and he unconsciously took a step backwards. Simultaneously, there were two gasps heard, one from the kitchen entryway and one from the living room where Petunia and Dudley were watching.

Harry had almost transformed, or so it seemed. Where once a small, emaciated, hunched over boy stood in oversized clothes stood a seemingly taller, more powerful young man, who practically oozed anger, pain, and power. His hair, normally an uncontrollable mop of black was moving, as if in a breeze. His skin, normally unhealthy pasty pale, was almost glowing white. And his eyes, often dulled from pain and lack of happiness, were sharp, cold emeralds staring coldly at his relatives. The Boy-who-lived-but-didn't-know-it, had rediscovered what he had lost, and he felt strong.

Harry started reflection on every miserable minute spent with these "creatures". They didn't deserve to be called human for what they did to him. As he remembered every painful moment, every beating by everyone of them, being forced to work every miserable day of his life, he grew more and more righteously angry. And as he grew more angry, more of the power left him, causing objects to start to float around the room. The lights in the kitchen flickered as places and glasses started to float around, and books and small furniture in the living room started to orbit Harry. Petunia let out a small scream, but Harry kept his cold eyes fixed on Vernon's fear filled ones.

Harry then moved his arm in front of his chest, cradling it with his left to try to ease the pain, and the action seemed to remind Vernon that this was a mere boy he was dealing with. His eyes changed to one of anger and he lunged toward Harry. Harry noticed the movement, and time seemed to slow. He summed up all his rage and will and the power that had been growing within him and made one command of it, "I wish I was anywhere but here!" And when Vernon landed, there was no boy to break his fall. All of the objects in the room fell and broke against the floor, and the Boy-who-lived was gone.

Harry reappeared outside a nice neighborhood, but had no idea where he was or what was going on. The energy that had surged through him a minute ago seemed gone, but he could feel it waiting, just below the surface. He made his way down the dark street, looking for someone to direct him to a hospital or doctor so he could get his broken arm, which he was currently cradling against his chest, checked out, and hopefully get a cast.

He made his way around a corner, but was dismayed by what he saw. All he could see for miles was housing, and in the distance a city. That meant that any doctors would be nearer to the city, and this was a suburban district. Plus, when he looked at the skyline, and the street names, he didn't recognize anything. He was completely lost, with a broken arm, in an unknown neighborhood. What would he do?

Harry just kept walking, hoping to come across someone who could tell him where he was. It never occurred to him to knock on one of the doors and ask someone, he had never really been on his own or had other houses he went to, so he just didn't even think about it. So he kept walking. Eventually, he collapsed on the ground, a soft bed of grass in front of a seemingly nice house, but he was so exhausted he didn't even notice. He barely had enough energy to make sure he didn't land on his bad arm as he collapsed.

About an hour later a girl and her mother were walking home from the library, where she had just spent a few hours pouring over the books and getting her own library card. It was an awesome day for her, and she couldn't wait to start some of the books she had gotten. She was currently absorbed in telling her mother all about a new series that she had wanted to read about the wizard Merlin, and wasn't paying much attention to their surroundings as they walked up the driveway. The mother, however, was looking around, aware that something was amiss on her property. Call it maternal instinct, but something wasn't right. Its that feeling you get when your child is sick in the middle of the night, that sixth sense that they are trying to be sneaky and didn't want to get caught. Not that this mother in particular had that sense usually.

Nonetheless, she knew something was off. As she was looking around, before following her daughter up the drive, a car turned a corner and something glinted near the bushes that separated hers and the neighbors. She knew there shouldn't be anything there that glinted in headlights, so she started walking toward it. Her daughter, realizing that her mother wasn't listening anymore, started to follow, wondering what she was doing. When her mom got close enough, she gasped in shock. There, laying on the ground, was a bloody frail looking child, with raven black hair. The glint she had seen was a pair of broken glasses hanging haphazardly on his nose, which also looked broken. His left arm was holding his right, which was sticking out at an awkward angle, and there were various cuts all over his body, obviously the source of the blood. She shuddered at the thought the boy might be dead, but a breath racked his small frame, and he moaned in pain.

"Hermione, honey, go get the phone and your father, tell him to bring his car keys. Hurry dear!" The woman shooed her daughter toward the house, before she could see the poor boy. Kneeling down, she reached out and put a hand on the child's forehead. He was freezing, and unconsciously leaned in to her warm touch. He stirred, eyes fluttering open, moaning increasing in volume. "Sweetie? Are you there?" She increased the pressure on his forehead slightly, not noticing the black ooze flowing out of a lightning bolt shaped scar beneath her hand. She felt it would be ridiculous to ask if he was okay, as that was obviously not the case.

His eyes opened more, and focused on her face. They were a brilliant shade of green, a deep, forest or emerald, it was hard to tell in the lack of light. "Who- Who are you?" He asked, his voice raspy and horse, and laced with fear and pain. She noticed his light recoil as she moved her hand. "My name's Helen Granger honey, can you tell me what happened?" She thought he might have been hit by a car, which would explain why he was on the ground so close to the road, but looking at some of the cuts and bruises, they didn't seem to match up.

The boy shuddered again, seemingly remembering what happened. "At school, was chased by my cousin and his gang and I did something, my uncle had to come. When we got home, he started hitting me, and then," his eyes narrowed, "something happened. I think I did something again, and I just appeared somewhere, I don't really remember." He closed his eyes again, and laid his head down on the grass, whimpering lightly.

"Sweetie?" she patted his cheek lightly. He flinched and moaned. "Sweetie, stay awake for a minute, I just need to get some information so we can get you to a doctor. Can you tell me your name, and your home address?" He nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "My name's Harry Potter, I've lived at Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey for 7 years."

She rubbed his cheek, letting him know she heard. "Who do you want us to call once we get you to the doctor, your parents?" He shook his head. "They're dead, I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. Please don't call them, please..." he slowly started to nod off, Helen let him this time, knowing the pain would be easier if he was asleep. She would have to find out about his home life, if it was anything close to what he had said, or worse, why he looked like he did, then she would be raising hell in Surrey.

Helen was brought out of her dark thoughts by her husband, Alexander, and their daughter, Hermione, rushing over to see what was the matter. They both drew up short and let out startled gasps when they saw the boy, Alexander pulled his daughter into a tight hug, which she returned, burying her face in his thigh. "What happened Helen?" He asked slowly, eyes scanning the frail body laying in the grass. She shrugged, reaching for the car keys he held out. "I got to talk to him for a minute, it sounds like he was beaten by his uncle, but managed to escape. We have to get him to a doctor, and fast Alex." He nodded, kneeling down to look their daughter in her eye.

"Hermione?" He started softly to get her attention. She stopped crying, but took one look at Harry and drew in a sob. "Hermione, darling, we need to take this boy to a hospital, okay?" She looked back at her dad and nodded, too worried to say anything coherent. "Hermione, since both your mother and I are going, you can either come with us or we can talk to one of the neighbors so you can spend the night with them." Hermione shook her head rapidly at that point. "Okay, honey, you can come with us, but we might be there a long time and you might get bored or sleepy, if you do, make sure we know, okay?" She nodded again, and Alexander stood up. His wife was starting their car and pulling it into the street, stopping once she got near Harry.

Alex looked down at the boy, and reached gently under him, holding the side with the good arm, so he was facing his chest. He was shocked at how light the child was, it was like he wasn't even carrying him. He started walking to the car and got into the back seat. Hermione went to the front and Helen was driving. One they were all secured, Harry still being held in place by Alex, Helen drove as fast as she dared to the hospital.