Hermione Granger was not amused when she read about young Harry's life with the Durselys. As she had already read all about him in no less than three "history" books purchased in Diagon Alley, reading what her new teachers insisted was a true account was an unpleasant awakening. Especially as they had books she was not allowed to read yet featuring what would happen over the course of the next twenty six years had they not intervened in the timeline.

Realizing that there is a difference between history and fiction while being confronted by a fictional character about your preconceptions is off putting to say the least. But the Scarecrow was a very sharp intellectual. Not as well read as H.M. Wogglebug T.E. perhaps, but also much more down to earth. She was very unhappy to learn about unreliable narrators, and biased authors, not to mention propagandists. She was firmly of the opinion that if a book was labeled non-fiction that everything in it should be factually true. That it was not the case was something she had not encountered yet.

She, and her Parents had been in the land of Oz for several months now and no time at all had passed back on Earth, nor had she, or they for that matter, shown any signs of aging. Even the partially grown in tooth hadn't budged, a sure sign to her parent's they weren't aging. The Multiverse theory she was being taught along with the extreme differences between observed reality vs. described reality in the surveillance footage they had shown her was a wake-up call. Harry obviously needed a protector, a mentor, and a partner to keep him grounded as he grew into the hero he could become. Hermione knew she wasn't that person. Not yet anyway. She had flaws she was well aware of, and flaws only she could see. The Circle had offered to help her become who she needed to be just as much as they were going to help Harry.

"Why do we spend so much time learning about the History of the Wizarding world?" asked Hermione finally one day. Her parents had been taking the same classes she had and they smiled at her finally questioning the coursework. They had of course discussed it privately with the staff beforehand.

Her history instructor, the little wizard himself Oscar Diggs, who had once styled himself as great and powerful was quick to reply. "Two reasons, first those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it," he said and paused holding up a finger "And second the Wizarding world for the most part does not know it's own history." he raised a second finger.

"Why don't they know history," asked Hermione, not understanding how anyone could be so ignorant, despite complaining about studying history moments ago.

"In Britain at least the history teacher at Hogwarts is a ghost who only teaches about the Goblin Rebellions in the driest manner possible." replied the Wizard of Oz easily. "Most students grow so bored in his classes they fail to pursue learning history on their own."

The Wizard had actually spent far longer covering far fewer important things than he should to get just this reaction from Hermione. They wanted to teach her things she wouldn't learn at Hogwarts, including when to question authority. Her parents had agreed with their assessment and were willing to play along for now.

The ten year old Harry Potter had just gotten used to the new routine now that he was in the final year of Primary. Dudley and his fellows had been bullies all along, but now that they were literally the oldest kids on the playground, things had begun to escalate. But years of turning a blind eye due to Dudley's parents inducements had resulted in a staff that largely ignored behavior that would have other students out on their ears. Harry's only hope was that he wouldn't be sent to the private school his uncle had attended. Dudley was sure to get in even if Uncle Vernon had to pay a larger honorarium than usual to get him in based on his grades.

Harry's grades were just below Dudley's so he definitely wouldn't be getting any scholarships. The one time he had come home with better marks than Dudley taught him the way of the world. He was scrupulously careful to score lower than his corpulent cousin on anything that might make it home to his Aunt and Uncle. This September was shaping up to be like the last one. He just had to try harder to Avoid 'Big D' whenever the students were left to their own devices.

Harry Potter was running down an alley, taking a shortcut and ducking the notice of Dudley's gang. He glanced over his shoulder and then suddenly found himself falling into a warm bath. He could tell it was a bath rather than a pool thanks to the bubbles. He immediately lost his glasses of course. Something supported him in the water and gently deposited him on a seat near the edge of the over-sized tub. Sitting across from him in the otherwise empty room was a little girl in an old fashioned bathing suit. Her dark hair was in twin pigtails and her face was rounded and kind, her eyes though seemed older than her age. Without his glasses Harry was quite able to see them clearly, had they been any closer however she would have been just a blur.

"Hello Harry!" said the girl brightly. Her accent was strange, it wasn't one he was familiar with, but she definitely wasn't from Surrey.

"Hello," muttered Harry in reply, bashfully looking away despite her clearly wearing clothing of some sort.

"Would you like to change into a swimming outfit?" she asked innocently and gestured toward the corner, as much as a round room can have a corner, where a freestanding screen stood next to a rack with an old fashioned boys swimming suit on it. It was similar to things he had seen in old pictures all done up in horizontal stripes.

Harry had a thousand questions, but didn't ask any of them. Questions were bad, questions resulted in getting sent to the cupboard without meals if he was lucky. Instead he meekly got out of the tub and trudged over to the screen and quickly changed. The outfit was slightly stretchy but fit him perfectly. The floor was dry when he came out from behind the screen and his glasses were sitting on the edge of the pool. Embarrassed now that he wasn't enveloped in clothes big enough to hide in he quickly made his way back over to the pool and slipped in. He didn't bother with the glasses as the girl was at just the distance that putting them on would make it harder for him to see her. But what do you expect from glasses from the donation bins?

"I'm sure you have lots of questions," she said, and he nodded his head jerkily. "Why don't I see if I can answer a few of them for you." she smiled.

"You are on a ship called the Dora. It's a private yacht used by the Long family when they travel. My name is Dorothy Gale, and I have been waiting for you. We picked you up while you were running from your cousin's gang."

While her statements had indeed answered some questions he had been thinking, they posed even more, by this time her demeanor and willingness to share made him believe he could get away with asking one or two. "What do you mean you "Picked me up" how did I get from the alley to your bath?" he asked incredulously.

"There was a lot of math involved that is a bit beyond me," she confessed, "but essentially they made the alleyway and the far end of the refresher room the same place for a moment so as you ran you stepped from one to the other in an instant, then they put it back."

"There's no such thing as magic" said Harry, with the firm tone of Uncle Vernon echoing in his mind.

"It wasn't magic, it was math," Dorothy said simply, "but there is magic in the world, as you should well know considering all the things you have caused to happen around you." she held up her slightly chubby water wrinkled hands and counted off on her fingers, "Shrinking the sweater, regrowing your hair in a night, turning the teachers hair blue, teleporting to the top of the school?" each finger was like a knife stabbing into the fragile delusion his Uncle had worked so hard to instill in him.

"But Uncle Vernon..." began Harry.

"Is a bad man and a Liar." said Dorothy with a finality that couldn't be argued against. Harry seemed to know she was telling the truth. Something was prompting him to trust her. Something he hadn't done with anyone in years. Every adult in his life had failed him, every child had been driven away by Dudley, but somehow he didn't think Dudders could do much to Dorothy Gale.

"Why?" the question slipped out unaccompanied. There were far too many why's to elaborate or even decide which was the most important at that moment. Though most of them could probably be reduced to Why me?

"Because you don't deserve to be bullied, because you are worth saving, because you are a good person, because you are important, because none of us liked what would have happened if we hadn't intervened," she replied holding his gaze as if willing him to believe her.

Harry had dreamed of being rescued one day, of his parents perhaps coming round and retrieving him, having been secret agents working for the crown who had faked their deaths. He had dreamed of long lost relatives, of caring Bobby's, even competent social workers. But never in all his ten years had he dreamed of being rescued by a little girl with what he was now quite sure was an American accent.

His Aunt and Uncle had been very careful to prevent him from reading about or seeing certain types of things on the telly or his dreams of rescue would have been much more accurate. After all it's not every day a young man is abducted by people from another planet, beamed into a spaceship that doubles as a time machine, or whisked off by Dorothy Gale to Oz. Sadly Harry had never heard of most of those concepts or he may have had a better idea of what was to happen.

Perhaps there was something in the water, or just the palpable presence of someone who obviously seemed to care for him but Harry at last began to relax, and then to cry, to shed tears for the injustice that had been his life, in relief that he had finally been rescued, and in grief for things he didn't even remember loosing.

Dorothy moved for the first time since Harry had entered the bath, she embraced him and rocked him, her form seeming larger than it could be. It was almost like being in the arms of a mother. When his sobs finally ended and he was once again calm she gently wiped his face with a damp cloth and he looked up at her. She was still obviously Dorothy but now she appeared to be closer in age to his Aunt rather than a girl his own age. She touched his nose with her finger. "Told ya there was magic" she said with a smile and the years began to melt away until she was once more a little girl sitting next to him in the very large bath.

Harry was astonished and a strangled "How?" escaped his lips.

Dorothy smiled and ducked her head. "I've lived in a fairy land for a long time. Once, after I'd been there for many years, I traveled to a world with no magic at-all and I grew up to nearly thirty in a very short time. When I returned to the Fairyland I became young again. Since then I have been able to switch to near any age I like between the two though I decided to remain a little girl long ago. I just felt that you needed a mother's touch just now."

"How long," whispered Harry.

"Time doesn't pass the same in Oz that it does in your world. But it's been at least ninety years by my reckoning." replied the little girl. "Now why don't you and I get dried off and changed into something a bit more appropriate and meet the others?

With that Dorothy gave him another quick but firm hug and clamored out of the tub trailing water and suds as she went. They seemed to disappear into the floor almost instantly. Her footprints vanishing like water poured onto hot pavement. Harry made his way to the screen in the opposite side of the room and found rather than his dirty clothes a smart set of clothes in a slightly old fashioned style. It was all done up in greens that anyone could have told him would set off his eyes, with a patch on the left side of the button down shirt that looked like a color-wheel Blue, Crimson, Yellow, and Purple with an emerald green patch in the middle and the letters O and Z in gold intertwined. Perhaps it was the symbol of this "Oz" Dorothy had mentioned?

Upon coming out from behind the screen the room was transformed, the pool or bath that had been set into the floor was gone and along the formerly bare walls were mirrors and sinks chairs and lounges set into the walls. Dorothy herself was across the room also having just stepped out from behind a screen. She was wearing a long sky-blue gown of thick silks, trimmed with a string of pearls and sapphires. Her satin shoes were also sky blue and their buckles were outlined with pearls and sapphires, and upon her forehead she wore a silver coronet with the same intertwined O and Z. framed by pearls and sapphires.

She smiled kindly at Harry and curtsied "Princess Dorothy of Oz, honored to meet you my good sir," she said and giggled.

Harry was a bit overwhelmed but did remember how to greet a princess. He gave a courtly bow, or at least what he thought might be one based on what he had seen on the telly. "Harry Potter of Surrey, the honor is mine my lady."

Dorothy seemed to glide across the floor her head and shoulders never moving as she advanced. Soon she was at his side and he knew to offer her his arm, her bearing demanded it. Soon she was leading him down the corridor of the ship to a ramp leading out into a pastoral garden where a picnic tea party was just beginning. Harry may have been a physically and mentally abused shut-in, but he knew tea. After all he was British, he had been making tea for the Dursley's for years, even if he never got anything but the cold dregs.

The temperature was perfect for their attire, the weather was sunny but not hot, there was a cool breeze from somewhere and the blankets spread under the colorful trees were quite charming. It was idyllic in fact which made Harry feel as if he were dreaming and would inevitably wake to find himself locked in his cupboard for getting beaten up by the gang. Not allowed to show his face until he healed. Which always happened faster than it should.

As if she could sense his dark thoughts Dorothy squeezed his hand with the hand not resting on his arm and smiled at him brightly. "It's all real Harry. Don't worry so. We all want to help you."

Soon Harry was seated at a nearby blanket the blue and white check pattern matching Dorothy's attire perfectly. Dorothy saw his gaze lingering on the blanket and darting to her dress and laughed, a merry tinkling sound. "When I first came to Oz, I was a farm girl from Kansas and wore a blue and white gingham dress my Aunt Em had sewn. I landed in the Munchkin country. The Munchkin's national color is blue, whereas white was the color worn by good witches in the land of Oz at the time. The Munchkins believed that I was a witch and had worn such to honor them. Some time later, Blue and White were established as my colors, when I was made a Princess of Oz by Ozma."

They were not alone at the blanket, there were two others seated across from them. Each of the colorful checked blankets seemed to have four patrons surrounding it. The young man across from Harry chose that moment to interject. "You've never heard Dorothy's story before?" he questioned. He was an athletic looking young man with the reddest red hair Harry had seen in person. His completion was tanned and showed no propensity for freckles. He appeared to be just a few years older than Harry, but as Harry had recently been shown looks can be deceiving.

"No, should I have?" asked Harry, thinking that if Dorothy's story was known then surely people like his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't try to claim there was no Magic in the world.

"There's books and books about her and her friends in your world," replied the young man "Lots more than the books about you in ours." Harry blinked, hard.

"Books about me?" he asked in a strangled tone.

Dorothy frowned "Now Zane, you know we weren't to bring up the books until after the tea party was finished."

"Sorry princess," the now named Zane said, ducking his head, then he brightened and held his hand out to Harry "Zane Carter-Long at your service Harry!"

Harry woodenly shook the young mans hand. It was rough and smooth all at once, callused like his own, but from doing different work. Harry focused on the feeling as the entire afternoon was beginning to seem unreal again and he was starting to feel light headed.

"Breathe Harry" said the striking girl across from Dorothy, "If you don't breathe you'll pass out." His attention now firmly on her, she breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. He quickly began imitating her rhythm. Once he seemed to have calmed down she said "I'm Thuvia Burroughs-Long, pay no attention to my nephew here. He's completely without tact or any other redeeming features."

The young woman, for she was obviously of an age with the young man next to her, smiled at him and he could only smile back as her 'nephew' took visible offense to her jab. "Here now, don't go bringing out the Aunt card, I'm older than you!"

"Only by a few hours" was her pointed rejoinder. And she began placing the contents of the basket at her side out on the blanket, which had until now only held plates and cups. Slowly they ate, the simple finger foods found at a good tea. There were no biscuits, but many varieties of sandwich on many varieties of bread, The tea seemed to be at the perfect temperature to drink no matter how long he took between sips. It really was magic it would seem.

Full, and much more relaxed than he had been earlier he felt himself drifting again until in ones and twos other diners began circulating from set to set. Everyone that came by introduced themselves to him. He recognized several family names, Burroughs, Carter, and Long seemed to be the most common, and there were several strong family resemblances. The shortest of the adults was obviously related to Thuvia, her forceful presence seemed to keep the others on their toes however. She was like a little Napoleon being attended by his officers in some way. Her name was Hilda.