It hurt, everywhere, it hurt like it never had; but what had brought on the pain had been worth it in the end, very much so.
He had been running from his cousin, an overweight child and his gang, they were trying to 'hunt' him, but he had been faster, he had lost them, for a while.
They had found him behind the kitchens and were about to 'win' their game, but he had teleported to the roof somehow, escaping, however temporarily, from the pain.
He had spent the rest of the day pondering on what had happened and if things like that had happened before. They had.
He had turned a teacher's wig yellow back in first year, he had grown out his hair overnight when his aunt had horribly cut it, he had shrunk a horrible jumper when they wanted him to put it on, he had made a book fly to him.
He had powers, he didn't know how, or why, but he had them.
He had spent the last three hours since the punishment trying to come up with how the powers worked, WHY they existed. His only theory was that he called on them on times of distress, when emotions were running high, but only negative emotions worked.
He could not once recall anything happen on the few time of happiness he remembered.
For now though, he would try to call on them voluntarily.
It was working, yesterday, after two weeks of endless trying; he had finally called upon his powers by choice.
I wasn't anything big, he only levitated a block of wood inside his cupboard, but it was improvement.
He had done it for one hour, and it left him exhausted enough that he didn't dream that night, but would try doing different things.
It was only a matter of time before he could find out how to teleport, and then he would escape his prison.
He had done it, he had teleported out of his cupboard during the night, stole some food, a bit of money, and went back in, with enough 'power' left to practice his others abilities for half an hour.
He only had to stay enough time to gather enough money to live until he got to his 'safe heaven, wherever that would be.
He had decided to escape during his sixth birthday in five months.
His safe heaven would be Spain, Mexico or South-America. They were non-english countries, so no one would think to look there for him.
Five more months of prison, then freedom would be his.
His Spanish was coming along nicely, his trips to the local library, combined with what they teached in school would leave him with a good enough understanding of the language to not look like an illegal immigrant.
Three more months, no more than that, he would escape his relatives soon.
One week left.
He had taken out a book from the library that was entirely on Spanish. He understood most of it, so it was only safe to say that what he hadn't learned when the time came he would learn when he arrived in Mexico.
Seven more days, and then his torture would be over.
He had done it, he had successfully escaped from his relatives and no one would be the wiser until later, by the time he was already on his way out of the continent.
The small kid looked at the house that had been his prison for six year and smiled.
It was cold, but if one were to look directly into his eyes, they would find something that hadn't been there weeks ago: joy.
The day of July thirty first, Harry Potter disappeared from England.
He would then be seen later on board of a luggage bay in a plane on route to Mexico.
He would not be seen again until his reappearance to the Mexican wizarding world and he would remain out of England until his fifteen birthday.