This is the part of the story where I acknowledge the fact that JKR owns Harry Potter and that Republic Pictures owns Beauty and the Beast. We write this story as a desire to tell a story and nothing more, making no profit or any coin at all from these few words. Of course, we can only dream.


The small boy huddled down on the roof, aware that his life as he knew it was over.

It had happened as had so many strange things in his life. The Harry Hunt was on and his cousin, along with Piers and the rest of their gang, was closing in. An emotion of fear, a desire to get away any way possible and -CRACK – he was on the school roof. Only he knew that Dudley had seen him seconds later, and he had caught the one word that he hated and feared to hear – "freak!"

He could predict the events that would unfold that evening. First Dudley would ask to speak to Uncle Vernon while Aunt Petunia would adopt the look on her face that he hated so much, one of disgust and cold hatred. Then Uncle Vernon's face would darken and he would begin to turn towards him, calling out "Boy, you've been warned about your freakish ways." Then the hitting would begin followed by opening the cupboard door and him being locked in for a few days. The school wouldn't care: Aunt Petunia was skilled at calling in that her nephew was sick again.

How he was doing it, even he didn't know. All he ever wanted was to be normal and be loved, something that he knew with a sudden flash of insight would never happen here. His "family", his relatives hated him. Not just dislike, but a visceral deep down hatred. And they were quite adept at expressing it.

No, this time, he needed to get away for good. But how could this happen? He was stuck on the roof of the school with no idea of how he got there and soon his cousin would get the school's Headmaster or someone else in authority to get him down. And if they became involved, the results would be worse because he, Harry Potter, had exposed his freakiness to others, other who might think that his relatives were the same way.

The fear was growing inside again and young Harry found himself wishing again for a safe place, a warm place, and a loving place away from beatings, insults, no food and cupboards under the stairs. Better to die than return to what he considered his own private prison. And after a few seconds of closing his eyes and wishing strongly, his prayers were answered. Harry James Potter, a nine year old orphan from 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, vanished never to return to that address again.

Despite hours of searching, first by the Headmaster, then the school caretaker and other teachers, finally by local authorities, Harry was not found. It was late evening when the Headmaster knocked on the door of 4 Privet Drive and was greeted at the door by a large man who could only be Dudley Dursley's father.

"I am sorry, Mr. Dursley, but your nephew was not found either by my staff or by the local constabulary. Are you sure that your son saw him on the rooftop?" he said fatigue evident in his voice.

He could see a flash of something like rage cross Dursley's face, but it was only there for a second. "Headmaster, if my son says he saw my good for nothing nephew on the roof, then he saw him on the roof," Mr. Dursley replied. The Headmaster could smell he had been indulging before coming to the door.

"He probably just ran away," the large man continued. "Never appreciated the love and care we lavished on him, him with his freakish ways and abnormal behavior. But my sister says blood will tell, blood will always tell. Just following the example of his spendthrift, wastrel parents, killed in that car crash for drinking and ending up on our doorstep."

It was obvious to the tired Headmaster that he was touching on some sore nerves tonight, so he made his apologies and, promising to keep an eye out for Harry, bid them goodnight.

In a Scottish castle in the Highlands, an old wizard contemplated the now smoking remnants of his monitoring devices. They had suddenly whined and fallen silent at 11:30 in the morning, just before he was due to enter the Great Hall for lunch. Thus with only a whispered word to his Deputy, the old headmaster left for Privet Drive to find out what in the world had happened to Harry Potter.

He had arrived on the scene, disillusioned and cautious. There was no sign of anything abnormal other than the wards which appeared to have collapsed moments before. Something had happened to young Mr. Potter, but he could not tell what.

But of course, Harry would not have performed any strange magic: the young lad knew nothing about magic. And despite Arabella Figg's warnings about abuse at the Dursley home, Albus knew that it was simply an overreaction on Arabella's part. He yearned for the days of his youth when his father had still been alive, before the incident with Ariana and the muggle boys; when his father had demonstrated his love with a gentle, but firm hand. That was something missing from education and from raising children in this time: discipline and a firm hand.

Still, if Harry had not done anything at home to have set off the wards, what could he have done and where could he have done it? At school perhaps? But he, Albus Dumbledore, would have heard about magical use at school, would he not? No, what must have happened is that the boy must have decided for whatever reason to run away. Probably not appreciating the warmth and love of Lily's sister's home.

Thinking of Lily, Albus lost himself in the memories of a different time. Lily had so much potential and if only she had allowed Albus to guide her into the marriage with the Greengrass family, the wizarding world would have truly benefited. Cyrus Greengrass had demonstrated his willingness to overlook the facts of Lily's birth and status and had been prepared to offer Lily a home and scope for her prodigious talents. A place as the second wife, training as a Charms or Potions Mistress: Lily would have found herself climbing farther than any muggleborn witch could expect to. The small gifts of appreciation that Cyrus would have given Dumbledore would simply have been tokens of appreciation of a grateful husband.

No, Lily had fallen for the irresponsible and disruptive son of Charlus Potter, James. While Albus had always appreciated his relationship with James' father, there was no doubt that the Potter family cared little for pureblood traditions and the stability of society generally. He had thought with the marriage of Charlus to Dorea Black that an element of normalcy would enter the Potter family and yet, once their late born son had gone to Hogwarts, the Potter family was embroiled in yet another scandal, that of turning the future heir of the Black family against the traditions and teachings of his parents. The resulting expulsion of Sirius Black had nearly upset some marriages; had even contributed in part, Albus was sure, to the marriage of Andromeda Black to the muggleborn upstart lawyer, Ted Tonks. And the marriages which should have been a means of uniting the factions of the British Wizarding World after the trauma of Voldemort, instead had lost their meaning.

Now James and Lily were dead, a waste of potential and leadership; Sirius Black was in prison, finally turning back to his family roots by murder and betrayal; and now the last of the Potters had decided to run away from a safe and loving home. Why couldn't people just see the greater good before them? Now he would have to begin a search for young Harry.

A/N: So...what do you think? Hearing your oppinions would be great :D So you guys should all go click that little button that says "Review". We'll always accept constructive critisism and typographicall correcting (cus we all know us authors can't see every mistake XD). However, flames will be used to make s'mores :)