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Jason was getting really sick of dying. At least this time he died in a cooler way than being beaten to death with a crowbar. Hah, yeah right. Because drowning in blood from an arrow through your lung is such a cool way to die.

So, with his aforementioned deadness, Jason was extremely confused when he woke up…again. He tried to sit up, but his arms and legs were swaddled to his sides. A short inventory of his condition had Jason even more confused. Why was he a toddler?

'De-aging? Re-animation via the Lazarus pit had the by-product of enhanced reflexes, senses, and strength, but the only negative side effect was the "pit madness", characterized by bursts of disproportionate anger and an increase in homicidal intent. Maybe I died and someone didn't bring me back properly? What if-'

Jason's deductions were interrupted by a scream. Toddler instincts took over and Jason began to cry. 'This is so demeaning.'

The woman, who had screamed, was cradling Jason and cooing to him. Jason's wails quieted to hiccuping sobs.

The woman fiddled with a paper of some sort before carrying Jason inside.

"Petunia, dear, what happened?" A large man inquired of the woman.

"She's dead, Vernon. Lily's dead. Those freaks killed my sister and leave me with the whelp." The woman, Petunia, hissed. The sheer rage coming from the woman set Jason's crying instinct off.

"Hush, Sweetheart. Harry, dear. Everything's alright. Auntie Petunia won't let those nasty people hurt you." Petunia crooned. Jason calmed his breathing.

'I swear, if I start crying every time something like this happens, I'm going to kill something.' Jason stewed. 'But why did she call me Harry? Theory one: I've been de-aged-negated. Everyone I have seen or interacted with at this current time acknowledges me as a child with no questions or concessions made for the addition or retraction of memories. Theory two: reincarnation-acceptable. The time gap would be explained by the inability to remember the time I spent as an infant. I have retained most, if not all, of my memories from my past life, but have the body and instincts of my current form. Theory three: body-mind swap-bit of a stretch, but a definite possibility. I have swapped bodies with a toddler-one "Harry"- the toddler's mind is in my body and vice versa. Theory four: botched reanimation-acceptable. A ritual/spell/science experiment/Lazarus pit/some combination thereof brought a flawed version of my toddler self back from the dead. Theory five: time travel-acceptable, but by God I hope not. Sent backwards or forwards within either my personal timeline or the collectivity of time- or both. Theory six: dimension travel-acceptable, but unlikely. Temporal resonance shock-waves opened a breach in space-time sending me careening into an alternate past or future.'

Jason stopped theorizing as a husky toddler walked unsteadily into the room and demanded food. 'If I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to go crazy.'

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"Aunt Petunia, what's wrong?," Jason spoke into the frightened silence. 'If I can get them to let me have the letter, I can track down whoever sent it. Tracing the letter might be difficult without the bat-computer, though. Oh well, cross the bridge when I get there.'

"Aunt Petunia?" Jason asked again, allowing a quiver to creep into his voice. Petunia smiled hastily.

"Nothing's wrong, dear." Petunia lied. Jason nibbled his lip to make himself seem more uneasy. 'They won't keep this a secret forever. When they realize that me and Dudley know something is wrong they'll try to break the bad news as gently as possible. When that happens, I can request to see the letter, a request Petunia is likely to grant.' Jason nodded an affirmative and sauntered back upstairs to dress.

Dressed in jeans, a Beatles T shirt and having his hiking boots on his feet, Jason dragged a comb through his longish hair and gelled it back, making him look more like Robin. 'Robin. Now there's something I hadn't thought of in awhile.' Jason sighed. ' If I was in my dimension I could use my status as a former Robin to-'

"Oh, my God. I am such an idiot." ' I could just use my mad ninja skills to ste- confiscate the letter.' Jason hummed to himself as he glanced at his calendar. 'School starts in less than a month… I hate my life… And death... And subsequent revival… Twice. At least grade school is more or less the same. Thank God for small mercies.'

Jason walked down the banister on his hands. He hadn't brought his physical strength, speed, flexibility, stamina, and most importantly agility up to their former levels, but it was still enough to give Petunia a heart attack every time Jason pulled off a stunt.

"Harry! Walk down the stairs, not the banister! You're going to fall!" Petunia fretted.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Petunia went to answer it, Jason tailing behind her out of curiosity. There, on the porch of his house was Gandalf. 'Or at least a cosplayer of him. Seriously though, why the hell would someone come here of all places to cosplay? What if he's drunk or insane or high or some combination of all three… That'd be a try-hard right there.'

Gandalf glanced at Petunia and smiled at Jason.

"Harry, my boy! You have grown up nicely." Jason bristled. 'Who does this clown think he is waltzing in here like that?! His "boy"? Yeah, sure, when Hell freezes over! Perv.'

"Who are you?," Jason demanded.

"Shall we enter the sitting room? I find the doorstep is no place to discuss the ins and outs of a new world." Gandalf phrased his command as a question.

The trio walked to the living room, where Jason quickly did a handspring to perch in a large, cushy armchair. Jason sat sideways in the chair, head lolling on one armrest and legs dangling over the other. Petunia sat on the couch as Gandalf claimed the other chair.

"Greetings," Gandalf began, "My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. I have come to explain that magic-" Jason tuned out as a splitting headache began, pounding louder and louder in time with his heartbeat.

'Please not here, not now' Jason met Dumbledore's eyes. Jason briefly recognized that the man smiled. Then he was lost in a tidal wave of memory and rage.

The Justice League mind controlled, Nightwing reluctantly authorizing lethal force, shoving his replacement out of the way of Green Arrow's attack, only to be caught within it himself~

Donning a red helmet and leather, calling himself by the Joker's former alias, attacking the Replacement and the Batman with intent to kill~

Gasping, shoving himself upwards, choking on and spitting out the glowing green water of the Lazarus pit~

Being hit with a crowbar over and over and over, the never ending psychotic laughter surrounding him~

Lurking in the stairwell as Batman and Nightwing shouted at each other~

Racing down alleyways and side streets trying to outrun a gang~

Running into his mother's room to find her lying there, cold and still~

Hiding from his father as the man raged at him~

He screamed. The toxic cocktail of Lazarus syndrome and unhealed trauma had him clutching his head, nearly tearing the hair from his head.

He lashed out, not sure of what he was fighting off, but attacking all the same.

"Somnium," someone shouted. He fell into darkness.

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The tinkling of bells greeted Jason's entrance. A sense of foreboding filled his chest. Jason glanced around. 'Something's not right here. It's almost like a… I don't know…taint? In the air.'

"Good Afternoon." A soft voice said. Jason slipped his hands into his pockets, nearer to his knife, as he turned to face the speaker, an old man.

"Hi." Jason said. 'How the hell did he sneak up on me!'

"I thought I'd be seeing you here soon, Harry Potter." Mr. Ollivander (at least, Jason thought, that was probably his name) said, his eyes flicking up to Jason's forehead. Jason grabbed the hilt of his knife. Ollivander was about to say more when Jason cut off.

"How do you know my name?" Jason demanded. Ollivander seemed unbothered.

"Which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked. Jason eyed the old man edgily, then reluctantly pulled his right hand out of his pocket. Ollivander smiled faintly.

"Hold your arm out. There you go." A measuring tape, pulled from Ollivander's pocket, took on a life of its own and began measuring Jason in almost every conceivable way.

"You aren't one for idle prattle, are you, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander asked, rooting around in one of the many shelves of boxes. 'Can we just get this over with?'

"What was your first clue?" Jason asked testily. Ollivander handed Jason a wand.

"Try this one, maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy." Jason took the wand, unimpressed. 'What am I supposed to- right, bippity boppity boo.'

Jason waved the glorified twig around like a conductor's baton. Ollivander snatched the wand away.

"No. The phoenix feather suits you, but maple…" Ollivander trailed off, searching once more among the boxes for a long while before presenting Jason with another wand.

"Here, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Jason raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and took it.

He had barely grasped the wand before a chill overtook his body. Jason felt as though his blood had turned to ice water that bit and snapped at his veins. Jason traced a circle in the air. White-blue lightning arced around the tip of his wand. Jason gasped at the sensation. 'It's the opposite of what the pit felt like.'

"Was that supposed to happen?" Jason asked.

"Curious…. Curious…." Ollivander kept repeating. 'What the hell is wrong with this guy?'

"What's wrong?" Jason snapped. 'I'm getting sick of this.'

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather-just one. It is very curious indeed how things like this happen. The wand chooses the wizard, after all. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar." Ollivander said.

Jason frowned. 'Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?"

"I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things too- terrible, yes, but great."

Jason paid for his wand and, careful not to turn his back to the man, left the store. 'This He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named guy, who is he? And why did Ollivander suggest that he was the one to give me my scar? I got it in the car wreck that killed my parents.'

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Jason fingered his wand as he sat cross-legged on his bed. The feeling of unease that had overtaken him at the wand shop hadn't faded when he left the store, in fact, it had only gotten stronger. Even as Jason sat in his room, he felt more paranoid than ever. 'Something about this thing doesn't feel right.'

"Harry?" Petunia called. Jason slunk down downstairs. 'Now's as good a time as any to ask.'

"Aunt Petunia, someone mentioned something to me today. And it doesn't make sense."

"Mentioned what?" Petunia said faking casualness.

"He said that I got my scar from a wand, and mentioned someone as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Is that true?" Jason challenged. Petunia paled.

"Harry… I told you they died in a car wreck because…I didn't want you to know that- "

"My parents were murdered when I was a child?" Jason deadpanned.

"Harry- "Petunia started.

"You lied to me!" Jason shouted. His head was pounding. 'No! Not again.' Jason ran up to his room. The closer he got to it the faster the barely suppressed rage grew.

He had just closed the door to his room when he lost control. Flurries of memories rushed past, Flashes of crimson and screamingPAINdEaTh.

A blast of energy washed through the room.

When Jason awoke he was surrounded by destruction. His room had been torn apart. Nothing was untouched, the bed had been overturned, the desk was little more than kindling, not even Jason's new wand- the only thing of his school supplies he had brought to his room- had been spared. 'Oddly enough, I feel…better. What happened? What triggered it this time?'

Jason tried to stand, but topped back to his knees.

"Harry Potter." A woman's voice said.

"Huh?" was Jason's eloquent response. He pushed himself up, stumbling to brace himself against the wall. 'Why does everyone keep catching me off guard?' Jason focused on the woman. She looked at him through her monocle. Jason crossed his arms against her scrutiny.

"Care to explain why the Aurors picked up heavy amounts of dark magic?" The woman ordered.

"Black magic's a thing?" Jason asked as innocently as he could manage. The woman raised an eyebrow.

'Damn, I guess that's a British thing, not an Alfred thing.'

"I don't know what happened." Jason answered honestly, "I only learned about magic yesterday. And I went to diagonal alley-"

"Diagon Alley" The woman corrected.

"Earlier today, to pick up my school supplies and stuff. Only, after I went into the magic wand store, I was feeling weird. But the weird feeling is gone now." Jason continued, purposefully rambling. 'No need to make the cops suspicious. Even if they are magic cops.' The woman seemed concerned now.

"What did this weird feeling feel like?"

"Like- Like something bad was going to happen." Jason said," Like there was this… taint... in the air. It felt like danger." The woman seemed almost panicked.

"Come with me. It isn't safe for you here."

"I'm not going with a stranger. What's going to happen to my family?" Jason demanded. 'I have to make sure they're alright. That I didn't hurt them.'

"My name is Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." The woman replied.

Jason followed Bones out of the house, a hand on his knife. Bones grabbed Jason's arm, turned on her heel, and with a loud crack and a sensation of squeezing.

Jason coughed, tears slipping from his eyes. Bones released his arm and Jason collapsed to his knees, gasping.

"Next time, a little warning would be nice." Jason wheezed, noting the change of scenery.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter. We have a lot to discuss." Bones said, indicating the chair opposite her desk.

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Jason walked numbly behind Bones as she and a small detail of Aurors, escorted him back to the wand shop. This time when he entered, the entire place just felt like a library. 'Why do these things happen? This Voldemort… I swear on my grave, he'll have one of his own. Justice falls with a heavy hand.'

"Mr. Ollivander." Bones called out. The man appeared.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I must confess, I didn't think I'd see you again for many years." Jason barely acknowledged the old man. Something about Bones put Jason on edge and he just figured it out. 'She acts like… Like Babs.'

"Mr. Potter bought a holly and phoenix feather wand here, earlier today, yes?" Bones asked.

"Yes, a very curious thing, that." Ollivander replied.

"Something was wrong with it." Jason spoke up suddenly.

"The wand chooses the wizard. That wand chose you, Mr. Potter. It- "

"Mr. Potter's residence was attacked with large amounts of dark magic that emanated both from the wand you sold him and Mr. Potter himself. A very curious thing, indeed. Especially considering, Potter lives with muggle relatives and found out he was a wizard yesterday." Bones interrupted. 'Yup. Exactly like Barbra.'

"I believe I may know what is going on here." A new voice cut in. 'Gandalf. Why does he keep showing up? What does he have to do with this?'

"I have reason to believe Voldemort created a number of Horcruxes. I believe that Mr. Potter was one of these Horcruxes." Dumbledore continued. 'Was?'

"Wait." Jason snapped, "What the hell is a Horcrux? And why am I just now being told that I'm one?"

"Harry, my boy, don't trouble yourself over adult matters." Dumbledore said.

"Horcruxes are soul fragments incased in objects. That would account for an untrained child having such dark magic around him." Bones spoke.

"Is it possible that the wand recognized the soul fragment and chose me because of that, but because the soul fragment was just a fragment the wand and my magic clashed?" Jason asked Bones, tilting his head. Bones looked impressed.

"That would be my guess. You're quite the detective, Potter." She said.

"So, now it's just a matter of finding, Mr. Potter the correct wand. This one will be free of charge. Never in my life have I matched an unfitting wand to anyone." Ollivander spoke.

Dumbledore and Bones moved outside the shop for more privacy as they continued speaking. Jason eyed Ollivander warily. Ollivander was rummaging in the boxes.

"You showed a remarkable affinity for phoenix feather," Ollivander said still poking around, "Perhaps spruce… no, laurel." Ollivander handed Jason a wand. A wave of the wand. It was snatched away. After the first four or so wands they hit a pattern: Ollivander handed Jason a wand, Jason waved it, Ollivander took it away. About twenty wands in, Ollivander presented Jason with a hawthorn wand. Jason took it with the same bored resignation he had with the others.

There weren't sparks or any other visible signs, but Jason knew.

"Hmm. Hawthorne and phoenix feather. Not many people your age bond with a hawthorn wand." Ollivander said.

"Why's that?" Jason asked.

"Hawthorn wands tend to bond with those with internal conflict or going through an upheaval." Jason slipped the wand into the same pocket as his knife. 'It fits me.'

Bones had escorted Jason home, where his family was waiting. Petunia was fixing dinner, Vernon was watching the news, and Dudley was playing computer games. Jason breathed a sigh of relief. 'Good. I didn't hurt them.'

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The days passed in a haze until Jason stood at platform nine and three-quarters about to board the train to Hogwarts.

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Jason replied again, rolling his eyes. With one last hug, Jason hooped on the train. He quickly found an empty compartment and settled down. Jason pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them.

It wasn't long before a red-haired boy poked his head in.

"Hey, mate. Is it alright if I sit here?" Jason eyed the boy, sizing him up. The ginger looked uncomfortable and scurried off.

'Jeez. I was going to ask if he wanted to play blackjack with me. Guess the kid is smart.' Jason went back to shuffling. 'Still, I'm glad it's quiet.'

Just then, two boys knocked. 'Spoke too soon.'

"What is it now?" Jason asked, mildly exasperated.

"Mind if we join you?" One of them asked. Jason shrugged.

"Ever play blackjack?" Both answered in the negative. Jason sighed.

"I'm Blaise." The first boy said, "And this is Theodore." Jason nodded, still focused on his cards.

"I'm Harry. How about poker?" Again, a negative response. 'Do wizards not play cards? I'm going to have to fix that.'

"What do you know how to play?" Jason asked.

"I know how to play Bridge" Theodore volunteered. Jason leveled an unimpressed look at the boy.

"Do I look like your grandma?" Blaise opened his mouth to answer, but Jason cut him off.

"Don't answer that. We're going to play Go Fish." Jason said, beginning to deal the cards.

Six rounds in, Jason was getting bored. He had won every hand except one, which had gone to Blaise. A blond boy barged into the compartment as Jason was dealing another hand.

"Blaise, Theo. I was under the impression you were going to sit with Pansy and I." The boy said to the pair.

"Well, we found a place to sit and then got dragged into a card game." Theodore said, bored.

"You're welcome to join us." Jason offered.

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Who are you?" the boy said haughtily. 'This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.'

"Bond. James Bond." Jason said offering a hand. Draco shook it as Theodore burst into laughter and Blaise cracked a smile.

"Theo? I thought your name was Theodore?" Jason said, feigning confusion.

"I prefer Theo." Jason nodded.

"Well, as long as we're giving out nicknames; I'd prefer if you called me Jay." Jason wasn't sure why he said that. 'Maybe it's because I'm lonely. Maybe it's because I need minions. Maybe it's because Draco reminds me of Damian. I will never admit that last one out loud.'

"Like the letter?" Blaise asked doubtfully.

"Like the bird" Jason corrected.

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Jason narrowly avoided tripping as he perched himself on the prow of the small boat. Theo, Blaise, and Draco piled into the craft after him. The fleet slid silently away from the dock. Jason grinned.'Let's see what magic school has to offer.'

The giant man left them in the entry hall with a stern woman, who gave some speech that Jason half-heard. Then the children (and Jason) were left to their own devices.

"What do you suppose this test is?" Theo asked Blaise. The dark-skinned boy shrugged. The woman- 'Professor McGonagall' Jason reminded himself- returned asking them to follow her in a line. Jason ended up close to the front, solely because he wasn't as shy as the kids around him.

McGonagall led the through the large dining hall, stopping at the front. She set a stool with a filthy hat on it in front of the line. 'Do we have to pull a rabbit out of it?' The hat twitched and then burst into song. 'Why am I not surprised?' Jason sighed. Whispers broke out among the first years as the hat finished. Jason snickered slightly as he clearly heard the ginger from the train talking about wrestling a troll to decide.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." McGonagall said. 'Awh, hell no. I'm not putting that thing on my head. Maybe we can compromise, I'll wrestle the troll and Ginger can get lice. Hmm, trolls are usually grunts for the magic, evil sorcerer, right? So, it would just be a matter of outsmarting it, maybe like bullfighting? Get it to run into a wall? Maybe I could get its weapon away from it and- '

"Harry Potter?" McGonagall repeated once more. Jason blinked wildly. 'Oh, right. Have to wear the lice hat.' Jason walked to the stool with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to his execution. He closed his eyes as the hat was placed on his head.

"Hmm" a tiny voice said in Jason's ear.

"You're quite interesting. Plenty of courage. A fierce loyalty." Jason snarled at those words. 'I belong to no one!' The voice was unflustered.

"A fiery temper. A desire to prove yourself. Not a bad mind either. So, where shall I put you?" Jason clenched his fists. 'I don't care. Just get this over with!'

"I see now…"

The hat shouted a word to the hall.

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Jason didn't sleep that night. Morning saw him sitting on the couch in the common room, still focused entirely on the dying flames. Cedric was one of the first to enter the common room. He instantly focused in on Jason.

"Harry! Were you sitting here all night? You'll catch your death sitting out in the cold." Cedric put a hand on Jason's forehead, brushed the hair from Jason's face,and wrapped his large jacket around the shivering boy.

"Come on, let's get some food in you, baby." the older boy said, half-dragging Jason behind him. Jason didn't have the heart to pull away, to tell the boy 'no', to leave him.

'Not when he acts so much like Dick.' The thought of his older brother sent a pang through Jason's heart. Dick had never left Jason alone, not even when Jason wanted him to.

'I'm alone now.'

With that realization, tears began to well up in Jason's eyes, hastily scraped away with the back of his hand. Not fast enough, it seemed, as Cedric noticed, and, after forcing Jason to sit and fixing him a plate of toast and sausage, sitting next to him and beginning to cut Jason's sausage into bite-sized pieces, he spoke.

"Did you have a bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?" Cedric asked.

"It's like my life is one nightmare after another." Jason whispered. Cedric looked at Jason with pity and understanding. He put his hand on Jason's arm. Jason looked up at Cedric.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'm not going to force you to tell me."

"Why?" Jason whispered huskily.

"Why..would I...not force you into things?"

"Why..are you being so..nice?" Cedric smiled sadly at Jason.

"Are you going to eat your food or should I feed you?" He asked instead of answering. Jason picked up his silverware.

"I can feed myself, Mother." Jason quipped.

"I'm just taking care of my baby." Cedric said, ruffling Jason's hair, tousling the dark locks.

Professor Sprout took this moment to approach. She gave both Jason and Cedric their schedules and took Jason aside.

"The Headmaster has approved your request for alternate lodgings. Your new room is across the hall from the common room behind the painting of the girl in the garden. The current password is 'Lemon Drop', but you can change it, if you want. You will have to tell me the new password, in case you forget it."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jason replied easily.

"Go get ready for class, Mr. Potter." Sprout said, smiling fondly at Jason.

Jason ran down to where the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was. He looked across the hall. There was a picture, a mid-sized frame, that didn't look like it could hide a door behind it, but, nevertheless, Jason approached the picture. The girl smiled at him cheerily.

"...Lemon.. Drop?" Jason said haltingly. The picture swung outwards, opening to a small tunnel that slanted upwards.

'That's...new.' Jason forayed into the tunnel. It got more spacious as he walked along until it reached a plain wooden door. Jason opened the door. His room was small, more like his apartment back in Gotham than his room at Wayne Manor. A four-poster bed sat flush with the wall and a small desk and wardrobe covered another. Jason's trunk sat at the foot of the bed. Upon further exploration, the door beside the one he'd entered from led to a bathroom. Jason dressed in his uniform, but out of habit born from hatred of the Gotham Academy uniform, he left off the tie and kept his collar unbuttoned. Jason glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked wrong. Jason pulled out his hair gel and slicked his hair back the way Tim had always done whenever the Replacement decide that Jason needed to look 'nice'. He washed the gel from his hands.

Jason's first class was potions. Honest-to-God, cauldron-stirring, eye-of-newt-wing-of-bat-using potions. The teacher, a grim man, kept surreptitiously glancing at Jason. Jason, with his slicked back hair and unbuttoned, tieless collar, Jason, with his bright green eyes boring into the professor's own, not blinking or looking away, not backing down in the face of authority.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class." Professor Snape began. Jason raised his chin challengingly. Snape lowered his own head, looking, for all intents and purposes, like a snake poised to strike. Jason smirked as the dour man looked away and began calling roll. Snape paused as he got to Jason's name.

"Ah… Harry Potter, our newest...celebrity." The word celebrity was carefully emphasized.

"I'd prefer if you'd call me Jay." Jason said quickly. Snape seemed taken aback.

"Like the letter?" He queried blankly. Jason smiled tolerantly.

"Like the bird."

"The bird?"

"Yep. The bird." At this point the entire class was watching the exchange with bated breath, fearful of what the intimidating professor would do to the lippy brat who corrected him.

"Very well, Mr. Potter." Snape said dryly. Jason huffed. Snape finished calling roll and began to introduce the young magicians to the concepts of potion-making:Cutting vs Chopping vs Shredding, Clockwise stirring vs Counterclockwise stirring, and the basic properties of the most common potion ingredients. The children filed out of the room at the end of class with an essay to write about what they had learned. Jason smiled at the simplicity of the task.

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Harry is a strange child, Petunia thinks. As a toddler he rarely cries, but he never smiles. And his eyes. His eyes are dark and flinty, like an old soldier's. He stays carefully out of arm's reach. Petunia's heart breaks a little every time he flinches because has someone hurt Lily's boy? As he grows, he seems more normal, but his eyes stay the same: jaded and cold. He isn't as distant with Petunia as he is with others, she is his stability, the thing that draws him back to reality when the smallest things steal his focus.

Petunia remembers one such time when the two were going shopping for Harry's school clothes.

They had traveled to one of the busiest streets in London, when Harry's hand had slipped out of Petunia's. Glancing around furiously, Petunia caught sight of the wayward boy.

Harry stood, shock still, in front of a poster, an advertisement for a circus. The poster showed a pair of trapeze artists mid-flight. It was brightly coloured, but the passerby payed it little attention. Petunia rushed back over to Harry.

His green eyes were simultaneously fixed on the acrobats and a million miles away, glazed over. Silent tears trickled down his face.

"Harry..?" Petunia asked softly. He didn't move.

"Why are you crying..?" Harry's hand slowly reached up to touch his cheeks. They came away wet. Harry looked confused and lost.

"I... I want to go home," he whispered.

Petunia had rushed him back to number four, Privet Drive. She knew then, on some fundamental level, he hadn't wanted to go there.

Harry never plays with other children. He favors high places. He jumps and flips and gambols about, alone. He forgets to answer to his name. He loves his family with a ferocity that is all his own, keeping them at arms length, but keeping them safe. Petunia pretends not to see the silver gleam of a knife that slips into his sleeve whenever someone he doesn't know comes near him. She bites her tongue and smiles as real as she can manage. Lily's boy. And her sister's eyes shine with a dull glint in the face of the man who had stolen her away, but he smiles back, only half meant. It's something, though.

Harry never raises a fuss. He is content with the smallest bedroom, with second hand furniture and clothes, as if they're better than anything he had before.

When he leaves for Hogwarts, Petunia breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe, she hopes, Just maybe, he'll be able to connect with someone. Petunia doesn't admit her fear of her nephew. She never will. Not Lily's boy, with his old eyes and young face, with his knife and his flips. She lets Harry do as he wants. He doesn't bother her family. Lily's boy. Petunia isn't eager to have him home. Let the wizards keep him, she prays, Lily's boy. She'll always take him back, regardless of her fear. Because, after everything, Harry is Lily's boy, and Petunia loves her sister.

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