Harry sat in his room at the Dursleys' and stared at the house across the street through a crack between his curtains. It was two weeks into his four week exile with his relatives and all he wanted was to go home.

He missed his mates and he missed his friends. He was embarrassed by his behavior and wanted a chance to try to make up for it. His only consolation was the house across the street, the house his mates slept in every night. Their presence, even as far away as it was staved off the deep seated fear that they would leave him with the Dursley's forever. They weren't there now, but they would be, as soon as the sun went down.

So far the summer had been quiet. The Dursley's had locked him in his room as soon as they'd returned from the train station. He got two halfway decent meals a day through the cat flap and a visit to the loo after each meal.

Sometimes he read, but mostly he stared at the house across the street.

Something tickled his hand and looking down he saw a spider running back and forth over his palm.

"Well hello there."

The small spider stopped and waved at him.

Harry smiled. The spiders had never left the safety of the cupboard before, as far as he knew, and it warmed something in him that the little creature had made such an effort.

Watching the spider he noticed it kept waving, almost as if it was pointing at something.

Following the little leg's direction he saw five more spiders, each one tapping the window glass. The disturbing thought that they seemed almost frantic floated through his mind, but he shoved it aside.

"Yeah guys, I know how you feel. I really want to leave too!" He chuckled softly but the spiders kept tapping at the glass.

Puzzled by their behavior he opened the window. Two of the window sill spiders began running back and forth over the sill, in and out while the other three kept waving at the outside. The little spider in his hand also kept waving.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a cold splash of fear swept down his spine before his world melted into noise, white, red, dark and pain.

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Dumbledore apparated to the end of Privet Drive in response to the alarm charms in his office only to stumble in shock.

Flames and smoke billowed into the sky and burning debris littered the street. Fearing the worst he ran to number four or more precisely, what was left of number four. The house had exploded – the hole of a basement the only thing indicating that a home had once stood there and it was barely discernable through the smoke, flame and rubble.

"Harry..." he whispered.

In the distance he could here the sirens of the Muggle authorities – he had to find the boy! Pulling out his wand he cast a quick Point Me spell. He had to cast it several times as he moved through the wreckage but he finally found him; found what his wand said was Harry Potter.

Tears filling his eyes, he gathered the charred body in his arms and apparated away.

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Poppy Pomphry gagged at the sight before her, never had she seen such a thing.

"Poppy," Dumbledore called and she snapped back to herself.

"Contact Bruce Meriwether at Saint Mungo's now! Tell him we have a severe burn victim that cannot be moved." Apparating the boy had been bad enough but moving him by floo was out of the question.

"But Poppy..."

"Now Albus!" Her tone brooked no refusal and the Headmaster practically ran to the infirmary's fireplace.

She felt for the boy's pulse at the neck and found it fluttering wildly, the fact that it was there at all was a miracle she realized, once her eyes finally made sense of what she was seeing.

The boy was virtually only bone from the waist down, the flesh completely gone leaving only the thickest masses of muscle still attached. The flesh that remained above the waist was blackened, cracked and bleeding – all of his hair was burned away. The clothes he'd been wearing that hadn't been consumed by the flames had fused to his skin.

Meriwether finally stepped through the floo followed by three nurses carrying wooden trunks of supplies. He was already shooting questions at Dumbledore as he trotted to the bed.

"Not a magical burn then," he asked as his eyes ran over the boy.

"Not that I could tell, the alarms gave no such indication. There was a strange smell in the air but I could not place it."

The Medi-Wizard quirked an eyebrow, leaning down to sniff the boy as the nurses began pulling items quickly from the chests.

"Gas," he muttered. "Poppy, Stasis Charms please." He shot out other instructions to his assistants as Snape came barreling into the room.

Poppy didn't catch the heated exchange between him and the Headmaster as she frantically cast the stasis spell again...and again.

"It's not working!" she cried.

Growling the Wizard cast the spell himself, twice, before shouting out more orders and casting a diagnostic spell.

"Merlin! We've got a distressed fetal heartbeat! Damnit, we're losing them! Poppy, remove the object in his hand, it may be what's disrupting the Stasis spell," he ordered, casting spells rapidly while the three nurses poured potions and salves over the husk of a boy.

Blindly she took Harry's clenched fist into her own hands, numbly wondering who Severus was fire-talking to. The object looked like a crystal ball the size of a snitch, and something was moving inside it. She tugged, but the boy's clenched muscles couldn't release it.

A roar came from the fireplace and she dropped the boy's hand, straightening.

Lucius Malfoy and another man emerged from the floo at a full run. She found herself thrown forcibly away from the boy on the bed by an invisible pulse of magic.

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Dumbledore watched dumbly as a rejuvenated Tom Riddle and Lucius Malfoy took up positions on either side of Harry's bed. He raised his wand and moved forward but was stopped by a hand on his wand arm and a growl from his Potions' Professor.

Riddle placed his hands on Harry's chest and lower abdomen and closed his eyes. Lucius easily removed the ball clutched in the Gryffindor's hand.

"He needs you now," he said before dropping the ball on the boy's forehead where it popped, like a soap bubble and something very small tumbled out.

The blonde mimicked Tom's position and the room went white.