In which being kidnapped is viewed as a normal, if annoying, thing.

The first time he'd been kidnapped, Harry had been four. Later, he would learn that they were called Death Eaters. At the time, he had just wanted to get away from the people in the black dresses and scary theatre masks. He had wanted to go back to the quiet comfort of darkness in his cupboard. He was bound hand and foot, and gagged because he was crying so bad.

And then, he wasn't there anymore.

And the Death Eaters had been stuck staring at an empty space, for Harry had accidentally taken the chair with him.

It had taken Harry four months to get back to Privet Drive, and only because Santa came and got him.

Why was Santa wearing purple, anyway?

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After his first kidnapping, Petunia had sat down with the solemn little boy and instructed him to memorize their address and their phone number, in case it happened again. As he worked around the house, Petunia would surprise him with asking the address and the phone number until he knew them better than his own name.

The second time he was kidnapped, the Death Eaters were a bit peeved with him escaping them, and tied him up so much that he looked like a badly done rope mummy. Large green eyes peered out fearfully from between rope layers. Then one of them pulled a knife, and Harry panicked, and the Death Eaters were all blown back. The ropes frayed at Harry's touch, and he was out of there like a shot while the Death Eaters were still recovering.

When Harry found a phone, he searched the ground for a coin to use, eventually found one, and called his Aunt.

"Aunt 'Tunia?" Harry asked smally.

"Oh thank god," Petunia sighed. "Harry, can you tell me where you are? I'll come pick you up."

"I—I dunno," he whimpered. "I want to go home."

"Harry, are there people around?" Petunia coached gently.

"Yeah."

"I want you to ask one of them where you are, alright? Don't hang up the phone, though, okay, Harry?"

"Yes, Aunt 'Tunia," Harry said dutifully, and tugged on a woman's skirt. "Hi my name's Harry it's nice to meet you where am I?"

This was all said in one breath, coming out very fast as the woman looked at him, wide eyed. Harry gulped.

It took a while, but Petunia came and got him.

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When Harry turned six, Petunia enrolled him in self-defense classes. The kidnappings weren't getting any better, and Petunia knew that eventually Harry's kidnappers would seal all of the magical defenses that he kept coming up with. At least four times a year, Harry would disappear, despite the protections on the home. And Harry would keep coming back—sometimes wounded, sometimes laughing so hard he could hardly stand.

"You killed my lord," the Blond (as Harry had taken to calling him—he had seen the Blond almost every time he had been kidnapped since he was six) said lowly, coldly. "I will raise him once more, and I will deliver you to Him, for him to do with you what he wishes."

Harry leaned forward, green eyes meeting grey. "Might I know your lord's name?"

The Blond leaned closer. "No one dares to speak His name."

Harry leaned into the ropes binding his chest. The two were almost touching noses. "It seems that I killed your lord. I want to know who I have bragging rights over." And, taking the lot of Death Eaters by surprise, he leaned even further into the ropes, lifting the chair off the ground and springing into the air—high, higher than he would have been able to do even untied to a chair—flipping, and smashing the chair into kindling on top of the Blond.

The ropes were useless without the support of the chair, and Harry flung them away.

After that incident, Harry had practically danced into the house, declaring that he was some kind of ninja-thing and Petunia just about had a stroke because damnit, she wasn't supposed to be laughing at a person who got bashed with a chair with a child in it.

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"Why was I sent to my relatives?" Harry asked curiously.

"It was the safest place I could put you," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Safe? Wow. I'd hate to see what your definition of dangerous is, then."

He turned to go, and Dumbledore called him back. "Harry, what do you mean?"

Harry looked startled. "Professor, since you put me there, I would have thought that you knew. I've been kidnapped fifty times over. I'm used to dealing with my fame because I am the most kidnapped person in history. There have been bets on when the next person abducts me, how long it will be before I'm back at my Aunt's house, and whether or not myself or my kidnappers have been injured in my escape. A moniker in reference to me is not a new thing. I have different monikers in different worlds, however."

Unflappable Albus Dumbledore stood there, jaw dropped as Harry explained.

Harry shrugged helplessly. "My Aunt has been paid to test security systems before, because I'm kidnapped so often."

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"Albus Dumbledore!" McGonagall hissed. "You never checked on him?!"

"I did not want to interfere with the way Petunia was raising him," Dumbledore said weakly.

"That boy has been kidnapped so many times that he sees it as a game! A GAME! How dare you not check up on him!" McGonagall yelled.

Dumbledore cringed.

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"Hello, Aunt!" Harry said cheerfully in the middle of May. "Don't mind me. Has Hedwig arrived back here?"

Petunia sighed. "Kidnapped again? Yes, she's in your room, snoozing."

"Yep!" Harry said, taking the stairs two at a time.

"How long?"

"Eh, a couple of minutes," Harry hollered down. "Really inept. I didn't even knock them out, I just spun them around until they were too dizzy to get back up."

Less than half an hour later, Minerva McGonagall appeared with a faint pop in the middle of the living room.

"Hi, Professor!" Harry greeted.

"Are you hurt, Potter?" she asked quickly, her eyes scanning him.

"Oh, no, Professor," he assured her. "They were quite inept."

She looked at him, dry. "That was a professionally done portkey that had to have two parts for it to go off and ripped you through Hogwarts's wards like they were tissue paper."

"Exactly!" Harry said. "They didn't knock me out, they didn't tie me up, they didn't have someone waiting to do those things competently when I arrived, and they were so incompetent that I didn't even have to knock them out to escape."

She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and let it out. It was part frustration, part mirth. Harry Potter sounded petulant, like his favorite toy had been broken.

"Take my arm, Potter," she instructed brusquely.

When they appeared at the edge of the wards, she continued. "Your kidnappers have been expelled, by the way."

He looked startled. "Oh. Why?"

"Potter, it is illegal to kidnap someone."

"But it was fun. No one got hurt, and they actually managed to startle me."

"Potter…"

"Professor, don't expel them. Maybe they'll do a better job next time."

"That's my point, Potter."

"You guys are boring here."

McGonagall choked. "Mr. Potter, we are not here for your entertainment."

"Perhaps not, but you just expelled the only form of fun that I've had in months. Flying's cool, but nothing beats breaking out of a heavily secured building."

McGonagall closed her eyes.

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Ruby: Found this little gem on my hard drive while I was bored and had a major writer's block on one of my other stories. Just about broke a rib laughing so hard, because I don't even remember writing this. Enjoy!