As usual, I don't own Harry Potter, just this storyline - you should know the drill by now.

Please let me know what you think.

The Book Thief

The Thrill.

Harry stood outside in the shadows between the van and the house, listening to the sounds coming from within. The burglars inside were going out of their way not to make much noise, otherwise, they would have woken up the entire street by now. With his Power, Harry 'wished' he was unseen and unheard, and he walked slowly into the house, mentally going through what he knew of the property and whoever owned it.

His mental inventory came up with nothing - the house didn't immediately ring any bells, even at this time of night. Still, as he walked inside he cast his eyes curiously around the hall and the doors to the living room. It's interior was not dissimilar to all the houses in Little Whinging, including Number 4, so he had no trouble finding his way through the house even if he disliked it almost right away since it had such a connection with that hated dump.

As Harry walked inside the house, he had to admit he was fascinated with being inside a house which was almost a mirror copy of the one he was forced to exist in because even though the house was structurally a dead ringer for the dump the Dursleys called home because of the different decorative touches.

It was too dark for him to tell, but there were none of the feminine touches in the living room, which the burglars who were in the house had turned over already, and judging from the low thuds he could hear coming from above he guessed they were upstairs, but the decor was simpler, less ostentatious. Along the wall was a long bookshelf which had been cleared out already, with photographs of the family knocked down as the burglars hadn't seen any value.

The furniture had been left behind he noted, but he gave it some thought and realised it was perfectly logical given how heavy some furniture might be, and in any case moving it all would take some time, and they didn't have time even if he didn't know how long they had been here.

Another thumping thud from upstairs. He had to go upstairs in a second, and see what the burglars were doing as this was the perfect chance to see how other burglars did things, although his best guess was they'd broken into the house while it was empty because he hadn't heard or even seen any hint the people who lived here although he had some ideas of what had happened to them if they were here.

But as he walked upstairs, Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the continuing reminder of the Dursleys, and he wondered if the builders had built each and every house in a giant factory and simply placed them on the foundations anchoring them to the ground.

As he silently reached the top of the stairs, Harry paused on the last step and listened. He heard the burglars soon enough, even though they were keeping their voices as low as possible.

"Come on, another few minutes, and we have to go," he heard one low whisper.

"We're almost finished here."

"I don't like leaving the van parked outside without someone guarding it," Harry heard another say worriedly.

"It'll be okay. In any case, its late," the first one said reassuringly.

Harry took a slow step forwards. Three burglars, but he wasn't sure right now. He checked one of the nearer bedrooms. It had been torn apart, trashed. Well, lessons were definitely being learnt. Sure, while he didn't like the thought of being messy, probably a symptom of his time spent in Dursley Broad Moor, Harry remembered the old adage you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs and it looked like the burglars here took it a step further.

Harry saw torch beams in the main bedroom, and he crept closer to the door and he peeked in. Two of the burglars were crowded around a wardrobe, systematically taking everything and carelessly throwing it all into a number of cardboard boxes on the bed. The third burglar was standing watch over them.

"Are you almost finished?" he asked, his voice despite being as low as possible so as not to cause any disturbance next door was loud enough for Harry to tell this burglar was the same one who had told his colleague not to worry about the van. At that moment Harry guessed this one was the most experienced burglar. This one was calmer, controlled…. but he wasn't entirely sure, his knowledge of psychology was limited even though he was swallowing the information found in the books at the library if that was a facade.

"Not yet, there are still a few boxes in here."

Harry stood there watching for a moment before he turned around and walked out, convinced he had seen everything and learnt everything there was to know about burglary. It was long passed the time he needed to get out of here and go back to bed, he had been out for a long time and the Dursleys were incredibly intolerant if he appeared too tired in the morning. Ever since he had begun late-night burglaries, Harry had felt his body clock adapting to it all so there wasn't any trouble for him although he had already been used to not getting much sleep while he was living at Number 4. As he walked back to Number 4, Harry thought more about what he had just witnessed.

He hadn't seen anyone whom he could say were the homeowners of that particular house. They were either on holiday somewhere, but when they got back they'd find a nasty surprise waiting for them. They were destined to add their names to the list of people around here who'd suffered from a burglary. But this burglary would be notably different from the ones Harry had committed. The burglars whom Harry had just witnessed robbing that house had likely forced their way in, leaving signs the police would pick up upon if they compared the house those burglars were robbing with one of the houses Harry had robbed.

Truthfully Harry didn't care if the police came to the conclusion there were two groups of burglars out here in Little Whinging, but after tonight he decided it would be a better idea if he didn't commit many more burglaries around here for a while; he might enjoy the thrill which came from breaking into a house, taking anything that didn't belong to him, but he wasn't a fool. He didn't want anyone to see him, but he imagined he had gotten unlucky tonight. He just didn't know for sure.

As he approached Number 4, Harry wondered what the Dursleys were going to do when they heard about the burglaries that had happened the night before. Like everyone else in the neighbourhood, the Dursleys had begun taking more precautions to keep their houses safe, already Vernon had paid for a dozen different locks to be installed, but none of them was a match for his Power allowing him to come and go as he pleased. As for the recent burglaries tonight, well, Vernon was bound to be paying for more.

Harry idly waved a hand at the door, mentally wishing to be silent as he walked through the hall and closed the door behind him before he took a moment to pause. He listened in to the sounds around him, and he grew alarmed when he heard the sounds of the TV. For a moment he panicked and then he realised what had happened. He quickly relaxed when he heard from the sitting room the typical sounds of the male Dursleys, snoring away like mad. Harry smiled to himself although he mentally kicked himself for forgetting so easily they were still there. Oh well, never mind. They'd wake up in a few hours, and think they'd just been so tired they had fallen asleep watching TV and they'd slept the whole night. No big deal. But the sounds they made…. He had no idea how Petunia coped, and nor did he care. All he was was relieved since with the combined sounds of Vernon and Dudley snoring, he could just sneak inside the cupboard he was forced to live in and the Dursleys wouldn't hear him, but he was going to be silent about it anyway.

As he got in, Harry didn't bother counting the money and other items he had stolen tonight. He was just so tired, and as he settled into the cupboard to make himself more comfortable he could feel drowsiness beginning to set in. Still, he pushed that aside and he hid the loot under his cot. After he was done he turned off the light, much to his relief since it was like his eyeballs were small onions whose layers were being stripped clean off by the abrasiveness of the light. He rested his head on the tatty, smelly pillow and within moments he was asleep.

XXX

Four days later.

The last four days had seen the Dursley's attitude grow worse and worse. The news of the two simultaneous burglaries had sparked a wave of paranoia that Harry hadn't foreseen, and since he had been reading bits and pieces about psychology Harry had been observing and taking notes. He saw their fear and worry every time they left their homes, shaken by the recent break-ins. The police had only made it worse by questioning neighbours and launching their various announcements to the media who had gotten hold of the story.

As he walked back to the Dursleys, Harry wished he could just stay away. The Dursley's worsening attitude was growing with each day, but they hadn't beaten or verbally tortured him for some time because of their preoccupation with the break-ins. And yet….

Harry frowned. The burglary he had committed, the one where he had relaxed his Power had caused more trouble than he had first suspected. It seemed that the homeowners he had woken up had made more noise than he had expected, and someone had poked their head out of the window to see what was going on, and they had told the police he was very small, mystifying the police since this was the first time anyone had seen him.

On top of that, the house he had broken into had been owned by people who had been frightened for their home security and so they had equipped their home with every security measure they would be able to afford. He had gotten in without anyone finding any hint of what he had done. That and how someone had commented the burglar had broken in effortlessly 'like magic' seemed to have had a nasty effect on the Dursleys.

His frown deepened, remembering all of those instances where things happened around him that had made the Dursleys lash out at him senselessly. But the moment the elder Dursleys discovered that quote and that information of how the burglar was able to get inside houses, bypassing the security methods the idiots had placed on their homes to keep people like him out, effortlessly, they had begun looking at him suspiciously. And they had been screaming and shouting at him more than usual, so every night he was more than happy to return to the Cupboard. Anything for some peace.

And they had been paying more attention to the burglaries than they had before. Harry blew out a breath as he looked around himself to see if there were any signs of Dudley and his gang while he also got his bearings. He was only a few streets from Privet Drive. Good, that gave him plenty of time to think about everything.

Dudley had been chasing after him more over the last few days, but thanks to the Power and his local knowledge, Harry had managed to stay one step ahead of his increasingly obese cousin. But he knew the truth. Three nights ago, Harry had overheard Dudley being told by his parents to 'punish him (Harry)' although the Dursleys didn't tell their son why that meant nothing to Dudley who loved taking what opportunities he had to beat him up.

That and the way the Dursleys had been lashing out at him recently and looking at him suspiciously had convinced him to take steps to avoid Dudley.

It was things like this that made Harry more positive the Dursleys knew something about him that they simply did not like. But what could it have been? What justified everything they were doing?

Still, as Harry walked back to Privet Drive, although he would and could never think of the place like home, Harry thought about the fear he had been experiencing for the last few days.

He was being scared for his own skin. And he wasn't being paranoid nor was he exaggerating. He was truly scared for his life, and for good reason and he was now more suspicious than ever. He knew the Dursleys knew something about him, and he wanted to know what it was. He had been eavesdropping on some of Vernon and Petunia's conversations, and he had not liked what he had heard.

Harry put down the book he was reading when he heard the Dursleys. At the mention of his name and 'freaky powers,' he eavesdropped with interest.

"I told you, Petunia," Vernon whispered harshly. "We should never have brought that freak in!"

"What, and brought their anger on to us?" Petunia spat in as harsh a manner as her thickheaded husband.

Harry frowned. Their anger? Who were they?

Unaware of their eavesdropper, the elder Dursleys carried on with their whispered argument. "You're too soft-!" Vernon sneered disdainfully.

"What, and you're not? Vernon, I remember how you threatened the boy's mother when she was pregnant! I thought his father and his friends were going to murder you! They cursed so badly."

"Don't say those words!"

"Vernon, I hate that world as much as you do. But we had to take him in. Lily brought photographs of what those terrorists were doing in our world after I scoffed at her stories about some kind of war taking place. She was furious with me, and then she brought back photographs of what those monsters had done with their powers on normal people. Vernon, I showed some of those pictures to you to show you they should be feared. That's why I brought the boy in because I don't want even one of those sticks aimed at us!" Petunia's voice was rising with each word but somehow she didn't start shouting.

Meanwhile, Harry was confused. Lily? Who on Earth was Lily? Sticks? Curses? Another world? What was going on?

"That letter said he would be sent back to that world when that freak school sends him his letter-," Petunia began, but her husband interrupted fiercely.

"No, he won't. He won't be going to a freak school!" Vernon blustered.

A…school?

"I will beat the freakishness out of him!" Vernon went on. "And the Boy will go straight to Stonewall High, and he will be grateful for it. We'll break him, you'll see!"

"Vernon, you've been saying and doing that for years ever since he was dumped on our doorstep! His power is coming out each time. Why can't you see that? That business with Dudley and his friends was just one event."

"You wanted me to," Vernon pointed out.

"I know, but now…. Vernon, why are you sure he's the burglar?" Harry's eyes widened. What? He'd noticed the elder Dursleys watching him closely recently, but to know…

"Is it just because of the fact someone said the m-word? Vernon, we have no proof. And even if we had any, what then? We can't tell anyone."

"But we can stop him-!"

"How?"

"I'll think of something."

While he hadn't liked what he had heard, Harry was still intrigued by what the Dursleys had been speaking about. They knew what he could do, they had a suspicion of his burglaries but only a suspicion, they had no proof. Apparently, their suspicions had only come about because someone said magic.

Magic. The Dursleys hated that word with a passion that had never made sense to Harry, but now he was won during if there was more to that hatred over one word than met the eye. At first, he had just thought it was because the idea of illusionism and anything that made no sense clashed with the Dursley's simplistic, narrow-minded viewpoint. Now he wasn't so sure, but he was missing something important.

No matter. He would survive. He had a plan.

Harry sighed and he walked up the path to Number 4, wondering idly to himself what was going to await him tonight. He rang the bell, wishing he could use his Power or he had a key. But since the Dursleys didn't trust him that much and if they found him in their home without one, the Dursleys' suspicions would get worse and grow out of hand. Harry didn't want that. He had been given a good motivation for laying low, and the less trouble he had the better.

Still, he sighed and rang the bell and waited patiently.

The door opened. Aunt Petunia was in and she looked down her nose at him, but there was something there in her face Harry did not expect to see. Fear.

Petunia's jaw clenched. "Get in, Boy!"

She knows something, Harry thought to himself as he walked past the woman.

"Get to your Cupboard!" Petunia snapped, and Harry paused for a second and sent the woman a look. Petunia's face lost some of its haughty arrogance and she looked terrified. Harry continued to glare at her. The Cupboard was something he had hated for years. It was a sign of his imprisonment in this shithole of a house. It might have been a sanctuary, but it was cramped and uncomfortable and he was positive the Dursleys had trapped him in there so then his body and skeleton would be as malformed as the hunchback from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Harry felt his anger rise inside of him. The anger which had been burning since the day he had finally understood the Dursleys would never accept him and would continue to use him as a slave or as a beast of burden. He thought of all the horrible things the Dursleys had done to him, using the idiot neighbours and the stupid teachers at the school to help them bring him down. He also remembered the things Vernon had said that night when Harry had eavesdropped on him and his wife, and he felt the anger grow stronger within him.

Petunia was shaking in terror. Items in the hall were beginning to shake as if a minor earthquake were taking place beneath their feet. She looked fearfully at the enraged wizard in front of her, and she realised to her horror and shock the boy was in total control. There was no fear on his face even though she saw his eyes, which were starting to glow inhumanly bright. Suddenly she heard a voice, the Boy's voice, inside her head.

Don't imagine this Cupboard will hold me forever. I know something is up, and I know you and that fat pig you married know it. I'll find out, and then you will pay. Do you understand that, you pathetic bitch? One day I will be free of you, and then you, your son, and your husband, and your bastard sister-in-law will pay the price for what you have done!

Petunia shook as the voice echoed in her mind. She knew, thanks to eavesdropping on Lily and that Snape boy the freaky wizards had the means of reading people's minds and defending their minds. All of her worst fears about the boy were coming true, and there was nothing she could possibly do. It was too late, the boy was one of them. Worse, he was threatening her and her family for everything that they had done to him. And Petunia knew there was nothing they could do about it.

When the boy had been left on their doorstep, Petunia and Vernon had refused to allow the boy to know anything about his freaky magic, and they had both come up with their own plans. Petunia loved her husband, but even she knew Vernon preferred violence to reason. If Vernon had had his way, the boy would have never seen his next birthday after being left here, but Petunia had talked him out of it. She had come up with her own plans for the boy.

He would grow up unloved and she would personally deny the Hogwarts letter when it arrived. Once she did that, he would attend ordinary school and then, when he reached a certain she would kick him out on the streets. Inevitably with a lack of attendance and no money entering the school under his name, the boy would be expelled. He would become a homeless nothing, and as he grew older then he would become a hopeless drunk, and drug addict. He would be the perfect revenge against her perfect sister…

Ah, so that's why you are doing this, is it? How pathetic of you. Did it never once enter your tiny, feeble little mind you were signing your own death warrants when you came up with this?!

Petunia jumped in shock, looking at the boy in terror. Harry was looking at her with loathing.

"Why do you hate my mother? Answer me!" he shouted when his temper flared.

Petunia shivered in terror, babbling madly. She was too terrified to speak as bad memories of Snape raping her mind to show her she could say and do whatever she wanted, he was better than her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Harry saw in her mind she was too terrified to speak, but at the same time, she was broadcasting memories of a pale-faced guy with lank greasy black hair sneering at her in disdain. He was surprised he had gotten this far in reading people's minds, but he had only just started after a kid in school had begun speaking to him after running away in case Dudley tried to beat him up. At first, Harry had ignored him and decided not to play any games with him, but the idiot had persisted. Harry tried using the Power to make the boy ignore him, but something else happened; he must have pushed the Power a bit too much, and suddenly he was able to see into the mind of the kid. The boy wanted to humiliate him and had begged Dudley to let him get close, but the details didn't bother him. It was events like this which made it abundantly clear friendships were a weakness, and he was just better off without them.

Still, being able to able to read minds was an advantage. Harry didn't have a great deal of experience with this part of his Power, but it was proving useful so far.

Harry sent another disgusted look at his aunt, although he wondered why he kept using that title for such a miserable woman, and he opened the cupboard door and got inside. After getting rid of his school things, he rubbed his face. But at the same time, he cursed himself for not using the opportunity to go all the way into Petunia's sorry excuse for a mind, but he had been startled by what she'd planned for him in the long term.

He had no idea what had happened between his mother and the bitch he was forced to live with, and he didn't care. Nothing justified using a child like that.

But then Petunia was a disgusting creature who didn't even deserve to be human.

He had decided it was time for him to leave Privet Drive and Little Whinging. Life was so unpleasant that he didn't see any point being here. He knew it was just going to get worse. Much worse. When he had projected his voice into Petunia's mind, Harry had hoped after he had confronted her about his Power after seeing her fear when he stepped in, she would spill the beans. Inspired by the writings of Machiavelli, the ends justify the means, he had also decided to look through the minds of the Dursleys as well in order to help motivate them into telling him what he wanted to know. He was tired of the secrets the Dursleys had concerning him, and he wanted to know what they were, feeling that he had the right to know and if they didn't like it, tough. But that image of that greasy-haired guy had terrified her.

The confrontation hadn't been part of the plan originally. He had just hoped to either sneak out or something, the threat he had sent her way was harmless really even if he did plan on making the Dursley's charmed lives an absolute misery. But when he had seen what Petunia had in mind…

He had known for a long time his so-called aunt was a petty, despicable human, but to go that far just to get revenge on her sister was sick even by his standards.

As he sat in the Cupboard, Harry knew Vernon was going to be spitting blood after Petunia told him what had happened in the hall, but he found he didn't care. He was leaving tonight, but if he was forced to hurt the Dursleys to do it then fine.

Harry had put the whole incident with Petunia out of his mind by the time Vernon arrived back when Petunia politely asked if he could cook dinner. Harry had sent one look her way, hoping the horse-faced creature would talk, but she didn't.

When Vernon returned, it was clear as day the moment he locked eyes with Harry there would be trouble. But the moment the two made eye contact with each other, Petunia instantly raced in and took her husband away. Harry had waited tensely, waiting for the inevitable eruption and he had prepared to defend himself.

But nothing happened.

When he did see Vernon again that night, the fat man just ignored him. But Harry could see the anger in his face. And the fear. That night, Harry went to bed, deciding to put off leaving until the morning. In the meantime the Dursleys encouraged him to go to the Cupboard, and since he wanted to get ready to leave he left gladly.

XXX

In his Cupboard, Harry made preparations to leave the Dursleys. He left all but the few textbooks from the school in his bags, a rucksack and a sports bag he'd taken from one of the other houses nearby, deciding that the knowledge in them was more important than the exercise books. At the same time, he took out the loot he'd plundered from the houses and put it carefully on the little 'desk' in front of him while he grabbed the books he'd taken from the various houses.

As he worked Harry paid half an ear to the whispering coming from the kitchen. He knew it was from the elder Dursleys talking, but he paid it no heed; he had known from the moment he used the Power on Petunia, she would tell her husband. While he regretted going too far, Harry didn't regret the act.

The original plan was for him to intimidate the woman and show her and her thickheaded husband he was stronger than them, and he would be leaving soon. As Machiavelli said, the ends justify the means, so Harry justified speaking to Petunia by using the Power to broadcast his words straight into her brain. He had begun adopting the axiom as permission to help him survive, and it had worked especially at school. He now only needed to look into their minds to find out what they were thinking, and he had already taken steps to stop himself from being outright humiliated.

He would use it again. If the ends justified it, Harry would even go as far as to hurt the Dursleys, he had no problem with going through the feeble minds. Why should he blink at causing physical harm?

He was putting the books into the bag after sorting through them and was getting into his stride when he heard a bellow of rage and he looked up when he heard the sound of Petunia yelling, "Vernon!" While there was the sound of what sounded like a herd of charging rhinos running through the house before the door to the Cupboard was yanked off.

"BOY!" Vernon Dursley bellowed into the cramped space of the Cupboard, startling Harry at the volume. But he looked into his 'uncle's' face, seeing it more purple than ever. But then Harry watched as Vernon's eyes, already small and piggy and narrowed with rage, widened when he took in what was in front of Harry.

Harry looked at the desk, seeing a small pile of jewellery there.

"You little freak…"