For a long time, Harry merely sat there. He stared dazedly off into the distance as the sun began to set. Somehow, he felt as if when he moved, his new situation would become real.

Harry didn't want to exist.

He didn't want to be here.

He didn't want to be small.

He didn't want this to be real.

The last dregs of daylight were just beginning to fade from the atmosphere when Harry moved.

A twig snapped to the left and Harry found himself turning automatically. It wasn't a conscious movement, but it was a movement all the same. The sight of an aged farmer that Harry had never met before further broke the dam. The view of the faded overalls, straw hat, and white, scraggly beard blurred as tears gathered in Harry's eyes.

"Hello? Little one?" The farmer's rasping voice broke the cicadas' evening song. Harry covered his face with his hands. His emotions bubbled up uncontrollably and Harry let out a sob. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes despite his best efforts. The farmer's voice had finally forced Harry to accept his current reality. Yes, he was very, very far from home and yes, he had somehow shrunk to only a few feet tall.

The situation rested at the fore of Harry's mind like a looming thunderstorm or heavy fog. It tore incessantly at his distressed thoughts with no regard of anything else. Harry felt as though his entire world had crashed down only to be rebuilt into something to alien to be real. And yet, it was. The farmer's voice and presence proved it.

"Hey, shhh… shhh… little one. Hey, there… It's gonna be okay." The farmer's feet crunched across the dry, summer grass as he approached. His form towered over Harry's smaller self. It took a moment, but the elderly farmer slowly lowered himself onto his creaky knees.

"Ooh, boy." The farmer gasped as he managed to contort his fading strength and muscles.

Finally, the farmer rested on his knees before Harry. He looked Harry over, but did not see any physical wounds.

"Hey, little guy. Can you look at ole Kaito now? I promise I'm not that scary." Harry finally gained enough self-control to quiet slightly and sniffed. Hesitantly, he lowered his hands to his lap and looked into the face of the farmer. For a moment, the farmer smiled. Then his face paled in shock. He scrambled to get away a fell onto his back side in his hurry,

"Wh-what? What in the nine levels of hell? You-you're a monster! No, a demon!" The old man gasped out. His eyes were rooted to Harry's face. Harry flinched at the tone and the wording.

Demon?

What just happened? All Harry had done was uncover his face. He hadn't performed any magic or spoken in another language. Why, why was the farmer acting in such a way? Harry hadn't done anything wrong. Harry's eyes went wide in shock to the elderly man's adverse reaction. The hateful words of his relatives reappeared from the deepest recesses of his mind to trample about his head. Unnoticed by Harry, the old farmer's hand rooted about in the grass for something to use as a weapon.

"W-what?" Harry gasped out. His confused countenance changed to fear when the farmer lashed out with his hand. A sharp stone glinted in the twilight. Harry leaned back a split second too late.

"AAAAGGGgghhhh!" Harry screamed.

And ITS ALIVE!... Again. So... my teenage years were angsty, horrible, and high school was the worst experiance like... ever. However, I would like to think I've gained a little maturity. And with that maturity, I think I'm going to take a second look at this fic. The idea itself is good. I just wasn't in a good place then and I think I'm much batter at writing now. Therefore, I've begun the lengthy process of rewriting.

THAT BEING SAID... I'm working two jobs. One has me into overtime within five days, the other possesses my weekends with an iron grip and allows me no fun time. For the duration of this summer at least, my writing is going to be very slow and likely much less wordy than my normal chapters. I WILL write this fic. It just might take a little while longer than expected.