I'm back! Being stuck without Wi-Fi sucks. There's my excuse for not updating. My computer is also virus free.

Thanks for the reviews. Here are some answers to some people:

To: Fallen-Ryu: He sure is, and he'll make a show about it.

To: god of all, a constant reviewer: Thanks, you guys give me the motivation for this.

To: Penny is wise: One step ahead of you. Nathan's going to be Harry's "source" of the main stuff going on in the Wizarding World.

Thumbs up to ramen-luver101 who guessed why I named the bully Richard. Richard, for those of you who don't get it, means dick. (To all of those Richards out there, blame our stereotypical society, not me).

Should I combine my first two hapters, since they were so short? Give me some feedback guys, I appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I'm just playing with J.K Rowling's toys in the Fanfiction sandbox. She and Warner Bros and all affliated companies own it. I do not make any profit off of this. Don't sue me.

In another world, where Harry was normal, in this situation, he wiuld gave screamed his head off. But, fortunately, this Harry wasn't normal.

"Woohoo! Yeah!" Harry yelled as he kept bouncing. Harry felt a sense of thrill he'd never had before, and he could feel the intense adrenaline pumping through his veins. All of the other students just stared. Richard was just fuming. He was enjoying his torture! It looked like he needed to be taught the extreme lesson.

"Pull him up boys. Looks like we're going to enjoy beating him to a pulp," Richard commanded. They started pulling the rope, having a pulley system to make the task easier. By the time Harry was pulled up, they were sweating repulsively, and Harry took note of it, he needed to know his assailants, after all.

Since Harry was just a five year old boy, he didn't have the manpower to beat his opponents. So he settled for technique.

Richard started untying Harry's leg, but he beat him to the punch. Figuratively and literally.

Harry's right hook to the family jewels left Richard yelling on the ground trying to recover. Meanwhile, Harry tried to salvage a weapon off of Richard's pain-filled body while Dumb and Stupid advanced. He found a wallet, which he decided to keep for later, and a switchblade. That would have to do.

Harry started towards Dumb and stupid. Dumb was carrying an old fashioned cricket bat, while Stupid had a kitchen knife. Not good.

Dumb had far more reach than Harry with the bat, and Harry's switch blade was a fun sized version of Stupid's knife. Harry observed his opponents a little more while they approached slowly, and Harry backed away until he felt the edge of the roof. Fuck. He'd gotten himself cornered.

Harry had had a rough experience in the art of violence. He'd learned a few tricks of the trade with Dudley, usually learning by experience.

Deciding to use Dudley's favorite, he ran at Dumb, who clumsily swung the bat at Harry's head. At the last second, he ducked, and sent a right hook under Dumb's exposed ribs. Harry felt his fist connect with the right organ, Dumb's liver. Dumb froze up and screamed, falling face first on the roof. Stupid didn't look so sure anymore, but still came at Harry.

Quickly without thinking, Harry grabbed Dumb's bat, and spun around, building up speed as to hit harder with the bat, and sent it flying at Stupid's face, which hit home.

Harry winced as he heard a cracking noise, followed by Stupid falling silently to the ground clutching his nose. By the looks of it, it was broken.

Harry suddenly felt his leg explode in pain. He fell, holding his leg, which had been hit behind the kneecap, successfully injuring it. Harry looked up to see a furious Richard.

"Boy, you're going to pay. I like to follow our traditional laws from the really old days. I find them satisfying. Ever heard of an eye for a eye? A tooth for a tooth?" Richard asked calmly. Harry nodded weakly. "I think that applies in our situation," Richard proceeded to kick Harry in the child-maker, and then punch him in the liver, and Harry was hard-pressed not to scream.

Finally, Richard landed a solid punch on Harry's nose, effectively breaking it. Harry told himself he would not scream. He would not show weakness. Ever.

Telling himself this, Harry, with the switchblade, made an attempt to free himself. He stabbed the older boy behind the kneecap, just like he had kicked Harry there. Harry took a moment to think, with Richard's blood barely starting to drip on the blade, about how ironic the situation was. Richard, for the second time that night, howled in displeasure. Harry tried to pick himself up, but his efforts were in vain when he felt Richard's body topple on top of him. He grunted slightly, not used to such weight oppressing him.

Harry looked up to find Nathan in front of him. He looked at him expectantly, and Nathan just gave him a dirty look, muttering something about 'saving his ass' or something like that. Rolling Richard, who was still in pain, off of Harry, he offered his hand to him. Harry accepted it without hesitation.

"Look what we got here. Harry Potter accepting help from little old me. Wicked," Nathan smiled. Harry just grunted in response.

"Do you want me to get you to the nurse?" Nathan asked.

"No, I'll be fine," Harry lied smoothly. He didn't need Nathan finding out about his freaky healing abilities. He'd already figured out that e had them. How else would he have healed Isabelle? Or himself, over the summer in his cupboard?

"Ok, if you say so mate," Nathan knew Harry was lying, but didn't bother to ask why. He knew the Boy-Who-Lived held secrets much darker than his own.

"Could you help me to my dorm? Kind of hard to walk like this," Harry speculated on his damaged knee.

"Yeah, but sleep in my room, a least for tonight. We don't need Trent over there beating you up in your sleep," Nathan offered.

"Thanks Nate. Want to see what I got from Richard?" Harry spoke with mirth in his eyes.

"Hell yes. What'd you get?" Nathan inquired.

"His wallet. And from what's in here, I think his dad's credit card," Nathan could only shake his head.

"Damn Potter, you're good."

"I know."

Isabelle let out a sigh of frustration. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Not only did she not find Harry's transfer documents, she didn't find any documents pertaining Harry at all! According to the school archives, there had never existed a student named Harry Potter. Setting the files back in the cabinet, she cursed under her breath. She'd have to take it to the extreme. Closing the cabinet, she crept out of the Archive room, closing the door slowly, satisfied to not even hear it click shut.

Introducing her new to plan to her original schemes, she sneaked to Harry's ex-teacher's room. Taking a hair clip from her hair, she inserted it into to the lock, slowly twisting and turning it the way Harry had shown her to. After all, being friends with someone who had a near delinquent cousin had its perks.

Hearing the lock retract, she slowly opened the door, and flinched when the door creaked a bit too loud for Isabelle's taste.

She snuck in, and immediately ran over to the big, important desk that Isabelle was certain belonged to Harry's teacher.

Starting to search the cabinets, Isabelle didn't notice the shadow that was slowly getting bigger, indicating it's owner was getting nearer.

Isabelle finally turned around to meet Harry's teacher.

"Ms. Andrews, would you please care to explain why you're filing through my archives?" She asked with a bit of a smirk on her face, like the cat who caught the canary.

Isabelle observed the teacher's dark, ebony hair, which in the near or far future, would start turning an ugly ash gray. Her thin, bony, but aristocratic face made Isabelle wonder about her bloodline. Sky blue eyes met midnight black ones, and Isabelle was compelled to say something.

"No, Professor Lestrange. I'd rather not," Isabelle spoke, frightened by the professor's smug grin.

"That's too bad, Ms. Andrews," Professor Lestrange grinned. Isabelle saw as she withdrew something that looked like a stick from her sleeve, and she fell into oblivion.