Authors Note:

Congratulations to *drum roll* TheSilverBoar and Water623! They successfully guessed who was mentioned in the last chapter! Both of them get a virtual cookie, which can be found at: ( . )

The person was Dumbledore.

Harry was still in shock when the wolves found him the next day. All through the morning Harry had cried and hated himself. He had had freedom and now the Dursleys still found a way to call him a freak. When the wolves came back to the meeting place and there was no one there they were just about to leave when they heard the pitiful yowls of a young one.

This infuriated them, if there was one thing that was worse than killing it was abuse and abandonment. With killing it was just a well-aimed bite to the throat and the soul could leave. There was no suffering, clean and simple.

Abuse was the opposite. It was almost worst than torture, since it was someone in your own pack that had hurt you so badly. The people that were supposed to protect you had turned around and done the opposite. They had drawn out the pain to scar you for life. So for the wolves, such a betrayal was disgusting. But to do that to a pup, never.

They ran to where they heard the cries. Harry was curled up under a thick bush and not quite aware of his surroundings. The oldest wolf motioned with his head to one of his daughters. She carefully padded over to the curled up form under the bush and nosed his head.

Harry's lips opened so he could wet his chapped lips. There were scratches on his cheeks from the branches that swooped down above him like claws. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days and his mouth tasted fowl. The hair on his head was an off-brown color from days of living like an animal. His bloodshot eyes focused to see the thing that had disturbed his stupor.

All he saw was a mass of brown fur and two dull yellow eyes. He lurched backwards and hit the stalk of the bush. In an instant there was a snarling black wolf. The bush was uprooted and dirt exploded everywhere. Ears slid back and black fur bristled. The pack of wolves backed away.

Their faces showed all of the fear that was bubbling up inside. Wolves aspired to be loyal and brave but in the face of those piercing eyes you couldn't help but be terrified.

Harry growled down at them, a deep rumbling in his chest that shook his whole body. His gums slid back and gave a full view of terrifying teeth. He saw the fear in their eyes and thought back to his nightmare. All he could remember was the taste of blood, the anger and the fear, and two pairs of eyes looking up at him. He could remember that he was a monster.

The looks of horror he was receiving now only established what he already knew.

All of this came rushing to Harry and he did the only thing he could think of, he turned tail and ran.

Everything was a blur for a couple minutes. All Harry knew in those few moments was the wolf he was and the wind. It was so simple, dodge a tree, jump over a log, run run run. That's it. He knew it couldn't go on but he didn't want to stop.

He held everything back for as long as he could but soon, the dam broke. He collapsed in a clearing when he couldn't go on anymore. All of his emotional walls collapsed. His coarse fur was gone and replaced with fragile skin. His claws turned back into feeble nails. He went from apex predator to a little boy.

The ground was cool and the air was muggy. The dew on the leaves clung to his skin and the cold seemed to seep though to his bones. His fragile, nine-year-old human bones. All of the strength that flowed through him was gone. The animal protector was locked inside. He could no longer hunt for his food or protect himself. He was just a human.

All he could hear was his own pitiful sounds he gasped and yelped and cried. The years of abuse that was piled onto his back gush out of him in little bursts. He let himself cry.

The scars were still there but some of the weight was gone. A new weight settled in its place. His monsters were gone but now he was a monster, a real life monster that was made to kill.

Harry's sobs wrenched at his chest. The tears on his face were hot and the cold in him dissipated. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't kill anyone. So he vowed right then and there, never would he hurt a single human being.

He drifted off to sleep with that in mind and dreamt of a world where he could be normal.

Dumbledore didn't know what to do.

Three weeks and Harry Potter had yet to be found. The press had found out and he had been swamped with mail that either threatened him or reported false sighting of Harry. No one had found any worthwhile leads and the trail was as cold as it had been from the start.

All of his informants said Harry wasn't with Vodemort, dead, or kidnapped. The only ones that hadn't lost at least a little faith in Dumbledore were the order members. Even they where losing hope that Harry would ever be found. Everyone was starting to think that the great Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of You-Know-Who was dead.

Even Dumbledore's spirit was starting to fade. He looked in the book where all the students who will be attending Hogwarts are listed. Harry's name was still there, which meant that he was still alive. At least when the time came for Harry to come to Hogwarts, Dumbledore would know where to find him.

And Dumbledore would most definitely find him.

I'm really sorry about how long this update took. I'll make it a shorter wait for a longer chapter next time. I hope you like it!

P.S.- Reviews are to writers as chocolate is to Remus Lupin.