A/N: YES! I'm finally updating!

Changechild: She has a good reason that isn't explained in this story, but will be explained in the one based off of Prisoner of Azkaban. But beyond this reason, she knew no one would believe a five-inch-tall witch with no proof whatsoever. As the story goes on in Prisoner of Azkaban, she is torn between two friendships and two promises. She's conflicted most of the story, which, I think, is a very good suspenseful mood for the readers. Concerning telling Dumbledore, she knew that all the connections that he had in the Ministry would never believe Raven and a man that they believed was crazy and going senile. And, again, they had no proof. Thank you for your concern, I mightn't have thought of that until the third book based story was coming. Thanks.

Chapter 2: Ten Years Later

Raven's POV

It wasn't easy, having to sit back, not aging for ten long years, and watch those horrible Muggles treat Harry the way they did.

I'd settled in under the floor of Harry's cupboard under the stairs. It was as close to him as I could get without being found.

As the years passed, I would indirectly help him.

Countless times, the Dursleys' horrid son Dudley would steal and break Harry's glasses and hide them. He always hid them in the same place each time (He didn't have a very creative mind) so I would take them, tape them, and leave them in Harry's cupboard.

Harry was always surprised by this, but he never did anything about it.

Harry was now ten, almost eleven. I was planning on allowing myself to be seen by him on his birthday in about a month. It happened a little earlier than I planned.

I was in Harry's cupboard killing spiders.

I did this for sport, since the cupboard was filled with them. I'd use my father's long hat pin to stab the nearest spider, then put the dead bodies in my bag to later scatter them in Dudley's room later.

I didn't find out until later that Harry'd accidentally burned the Dursley's lunch, received a beating, a d was sent to his cupboard.

The cupboard door swung open as I stabbed a spider on the middle shelf. I turned, smiling at the black-haired, bespectacled boy ducking into the cupboard and closing the door. I slid the dead spider's carcass off my pin and into my bag.

"Hello, Harry Potter," I greeted, smiling.

He yelped in surprise, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He massaged the spot where he hit.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

He gasped, turning to me. His eyes were wide, almost filling his classes.

"Ho-how do you know my name?" he stammered.

"I've lived here a long time, almost the same time as you." I vaguely explained.

"Who are you?" he inquired.

"Oh, sorry, excuse me. I should've introduced myself. My name's Raven. I'd shake your hand, but look at me," I chuckled, gesturing to all of me.

He smiled faintly, but his eyes were still as wide as dinner plates.

"Erm…not to be rude, but what exactly are you?"

I sat down, letting my legs dangle over the edge of the shelf.

"I'm called a borrower. We borrow we borrow things we need from humans. Normally, I'd be breaking our ancient laws and rules, being seen by you. But this is a special case."

"How special?"

Instead of answering him, I tilted my head. "You look so like your father. All but your eyes; they're your mother's."

Harry leaned forward. "You knew my parents?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes. Good people. Wonderful people. They were my best friends. Well, until…" I stopped there. A lump had formed in my throat. I lowered my head.

"I know," Harry said.

I shot my head up. He knew?

"Until the car crash." He finished.

I was confused until I remembered that was the Dursley's excuse about Harry's parents' deaths and his scar.

I nodded. "Yeah. Car crash,"

What was I supposed to say? "No, they were murdered"? It wasn't the time.

"So," Harry said, trying to change the subject, "do you live in the house?"

"I do, actually," I said, once again smiling. "Directly beneath where you sit to be exact."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He moved to the side, lifting his thin mattress. There was one floorboard with hinges on it. He lifted it, revealing my little bedroom. He gaped in awe.

Closing the board and putting his mattress back he turned to me and asked, "Are there more little people like you living here?"

My smile faded slightly. "No. No, I'm the only one." I said.

"Oh," he said, looking sad and a little disappointed. "Why not?"

"Three reasons," I said, counting on my fingers, "Vernon, Dudley, and Petunia."

Harry laughed, possibly for the first time in years. "Okay, good point. Then why did you stay, knowing there were here?"

"I knew you were here," I answered simply. "James and Lily were my best friends. I couldn't just leave their only son. You're like the family I never had."

He smiled.

I stood, shouldering my bag. "I'm gonna go. I've gotta leave Dudley an early birthday present," I said, smirking mischievously and gesturing toward my bag with my head.

Harry's smile faded. "Oh, yeah. Dudley's birthday. How could I forget?" he looked at me. "What's in the bag?"

"Dead spiders," I grinned.

I tried to avoid coming out the next day. I knew that Vernon and Petunia had gotten Dudley one less present than last year, and I didn't feel like being on a table he flips…again.

I came out once or twice to keep an eye on Harry from the high rafters. I noticed he spent extra time getting around looking behind vases and photos, as if he expected something or someone (A.K.A. me) to be hiding behind them. He'd get barked at by Vernon or Petunia for dawdling.

Harry got the opportunity this year to accompany Dudley and one of his friends on their outing to the zoo. I mentally wished him luck as they drove off.

I sat on the chimney stack, looking out at Privet Drive. It wasn't a very glamorous street. It was really a dull street. The kind you'd pass on the way to a more important place, the kind you notice out of the corner of your eye, but don't pay any attention to.

I jumped in surprise when a small brown owl, not much larger than I was, landed next to me. I stood, smiling.

"Hey, Lightning."

Lightning is the owl that Dumbledore got for me and him to correspond. I walked over, untying the note on his leg and unfolding it. Dumbledore wrote that he was going to send Harry's Hogwarts letter soon and he wanted to know exactly where he stayed.

Dumbledore liked specifics, this I knew.

I pulled out a pencil from my bag, turning the letter over to the back. I waved my wand, and the pencil wrote The Cupboard under The Stairs. I figured that Dumbledore knew the rest. The letter folded itself, and then tied itself to Lightning's leg. He sped off.

Not long after, the Dursley's van pulled up the drive Vernon was already red with rage, so I expected that Harry would be sent to his cupboard within the next two minutes.

I went back inside, racing through the walls to get back to the cupboard. I heard outside the cupboard door open, slam, and lock.

I appeared on Harry's shelf. Looking up at him, I noticed he kind of looked depressed and bewildered at once.

I leaned against the wall. "So I'm guessing the outing didn't go so well?" I said, shooing away a spider.

"Harry looked down at me sadly. "Hi, Raven. It was horrible!"

"You want to talk about it?"

He told me about the snake and the glass disappearing.

"And now Uncle Vernon's locked me in here for who knows how long with no meals," he concluded miserably.

"You know, if it's food you're worried about, I can help with that." I said, shrugging off my bag and dropping it at my feet.

"So I'm going to live off of food that fits in a bag smaller than my thumb?" he asked.

"Well, this bag's different, special…magic, if you will. It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. And I have access to every room in the house. Therefore—"

"You can sneak food from the kitchen in here," he finished.

I smiled, nodded, and re-shouldered my bag.

Harry smiled widely.

He and I spent a month in that cupboard. I would bring him food (the Dursleys had so much, they didn't notice any was missing) and keep him company. I told him more about myself, and I got caught up with him.

Occasionally, I'd humor him by "battling" his action figures with my pin/sword.

Finally, in July, Harry was allowed back outside his cupboard. By then, school had ended and the summer holidays had begun.

I went borrowing while he made breakfast for himself and the Dursleys. I was raiding the Christmas decorations for a new light. Right as I found one, an owl screeched outside. I smiled, quickly unscrewing the bulb and replacing it with the old one. I hurried downstairs, running along the rafters. I dropped down from the rafters and onto a table cluttered with pictures of Dudley. I looked over, seeing Harry's Hogwarts letter among the other letters.

If I'd known what would happen, I would've taken the letter to give to Harry later. But I figured he should find it for himself.

I turned as I heard a human coming. I could even feel him coming.

Borrowers develop a 'feeling' that happens when a human's around. It doesn't hurt, but I've gotten used to it. But I still recognize it every time. Mine goes like this: my ankles and wrists begin to ache, spreading to the joints in my fingers and toes.

Anyway, Harry walked by and I relaxed. He picked up the mail, noticing the one unmistakably addressed to him.

He walked back to the kitchen, handing the other mail to Vernon.

I watched from the rafters as Dudley stole Harry's letter before he could open it all the way, giving it to his father.

Basically, Vernon and Petunia flipped out. They shut themselves in the kitchen after throwing Harry and Dudley out. I, of course, eavesdropped on the conversation.

"Vernon," Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching — spying — might be following us," muttered Vernon wildly.

I laughed to myself. I left, knowing that I would never get the letter back. Knowing Vernon? It'd be burnt immediately.

I felt a little guilty about not telling Harry what was in the letter when he asked, but I wanted that moment when he opened his letter for the first time to be special.

We were talking in the cupboard when Vernon surprised us both and visited him in the cupboard. I quickly dove behind a can, which contained stubs of pencils, peeking to make sure that Vernon didn't hurt Harry.

"Where's my letter? Who's writing to me?" Harry asked almost instantly as Vernon squatted, his fat body barely fitting through the door.

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake. I've burned it."

I knew it.

"It was not a mistake, it had my cupboard on it!" said Harry.

"SILENCE!" Vernon yelled. I covered my ears and a spider fell in front of me from the ceiling. I kicked it away and relaxed my arms.

I looked back and saw a fearful sight. Vernon was forcing a painful smile. Something was up.

"Er—yes, Harry—about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you're really getting big for it…we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

Yes. Dudley has a second bedroom for his broken or misused old things.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Don't ask questions!" Vernon snapped. That was his major rule for Harry: don't ask questions. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

It wouldn't be hard to bring all of Harry's things upstairs in one trip, even with me and my things in a box among them.

When we got upstairs, he set the box that contained my things on the bedside nightstand. I pushed off the top and climbed out. I could hear Dudley whining—or rather, screaming and fake crying—at Petunia to get Harry out of the room. He stretched out on the bed, obviously miserable.

"I'm gonna look around a little, settle in." I informed him.

He rolled onto his side, looking at me. "I thought you knew every room in this house," he said.

"Well, I've never had a reason to come in here."

"True." He removed his glasses, placing them on the nightstand near me, and then rolled over onto his other side, seemingly falling asleep.

I smiled. "Good night, Harry." I jumped down to the floor, and as soon as I did my smile melted. As I moved my things under the floor beneath Harry's bed, I thought about the Dursleys. There was no was no way that they would move Harry up into a bedroom—even the smallest—just to be nice. They were trying to throw us off our guard. They wouldn't. My thoughtful frown twisted into a mischievous smile as I made my way to the roof.

I stood on the shingled roof, raising my wand to the sky. "Accio Lightning!"

While I waited, I took out a pencil and piece of parchment. I wrote: Dursleys moved Harry. Changed to The smallest bedroom. Re-send letter.

The next moment, the small owl whizzed through the air, landing in front of me. I tied the note to his leg, sending him off to Dumbledore.

I could summarize the next week or so in three—wait, no, four—words: Vernon went completely crazy.

The next day, a second letter came for Harry. It came pretty quick, but there was a reason Dumbledore and I named the owl Lightning.

But Vernon got hold of that letter as well.

Later, Harry and I were talking. He told me that he'd come up with a plan. After hearing it, we discussed and came up with a modified version of this plan which we hatched that very morning.

I crept along the rafters, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I dropped down onto the banister, looking down the hall, waiting. The door to the smallest bedroom opened slowly, and a dark, shadowy form slipped out. Harry. He looked at me, and I gave him a signal to wait. He nodded, stopping at the top of the stairs. He plastered himself to the wall.

I turned, sliding down the banister. I came to a halt at the bottom, looking down the hall at the front door. A large lump in a sleeping bag blocked the door. It could only be Crazy Vernon. He snapped to attention as three identical letters addressed to Harry fell into his lap. I quickly unclipped my father's old hook with a long piece of twine attached to it, swung it, and threw it. It attached itself to a lamp hanging from the ceiling. I jumped, swinging up to the landing at Harry's feet.

"Retreat!" I hissed.

"What?" he whispered.

"It's not worth it, get back, quick!"

He went back into his room, and I shook the string in my hand loosening the hook, which fell. I quickly gathered the string, darting through the door which Harry was holding ajar.

"What happened?" he whispered; the walls were paper thin.

"Vernon, the crazy git, was lying in front of the door, waiting for the mail." I explained.

Harry groaned audibly, sitting on his bed with his face in his hands.

My face hardened into an expression of grim determination. I promised myself and Harry that he would get that letter if I had to pry it from Vernon's pudgy hands myself.

Vernon stayed home to drill the mail slot shut. Despite this, many letters came Friday, finding their way into the house somehow. Vernon managed to get to the letters and burning them.

"Hey! Little help?" I knocked on the loose floorboard above me. It was pried up, and Harry's face looking down at me was revealed.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, lowering his hand to my level.

"I wasn't sure it was possible at first, but Vernon's gone even crazier!" I said, getting on his hand, which he lifted and I emerged in his bedroom. "He's boarded up the front and back doors, as you know, and he's found any and every crack and hole and sealed it. All my holes are covered, and now I have no means of getting around."

"He's really determined, isn't he? I mean, what could be in that letter that's so bad?"

"I don't know, Harry, but if this continues, he's going to crack."

And he finally did on Sunday.

I was isolated in my little room under the floor, catching up on my sleep. I was startled awake by a loud commotion downstairs. Instinctively, I shot out of bed and threw on a robe.

Not long after, Harry wrenched up the board. "Quickly, get dressed and pack just a few things. Uncle Vernon says we're going away. And do hurry!" He left before I could respond, frantically throwing a few things into a bag.

I fit nearly everything I owned into my father's bag, then changed into some warm clothes. With my bag shouldered, Harry lifted me out of the floor and slipped me into the pocket of an enormous hand-me-down hooded sweater that used to belong to Dudley.

The car ride was long and tedious, especially for me, for I was concealed in an opaque pocket with nothing to do but think and sleep and wonder where we were going.

Vernon finally stopped at a hotel somewhere. I didn't see the outside, but the inside was a real fixer-upper. That night, while Harry sat awake in the windowsill, I did a little snooping. I found out the full address and owled it to Dumbledore. In the process, I stepped in a stale puddle on the roof. When Harry saw me again, he inquired about the wet mess on my pants leg. I answered honestly that I had no idea what the stains were.

When hundreds of letters arrived the next morning, things took a turn for the worst. All I knew was that we were in the car for a long time. For a period, we were sitting in the parked car in silence besides Dudley's whining.

Vernon dragged them out of the car and outside. Every once in a while, a raindrop found its way into Harry's pocket and made contact with my face or leg. For the longest time, we seemed to be rocking haphazardly as if on rough waters. Finally, Harry managed to find a spare moment alone. The rains had died down, which meant we were inside. He reached into his pocket, pulling me gently out.

We were in the most fancy five-star hotel.

NOT!

It was a HUT on a ROCK in the middle of NOWHERE.

I immediately owled Dumbledore the address and that Vernon was insane and to send help right away.

Since the walls and floor were solid, I had to sleep near Harry out in the open.

I sat cross-legged on the cold floor, shivering in my thin clothes. Even with a blanket that I made a long time ago wrapped around me, the wind found its way to meet my skin.

I looked up at Harry. He was still awake, staring at Dudley's watch. I followed his gaze. Midnight was nearing. I suddenly realized; it would soon be Harry's birthday. I felt a little guilty that I was unable to get him anything. Sure, I had some money in my bag, but I never got the opportunity to actually go out and buy anything.

I looked back up at the watch. Five seconds to go. Three—two—one.

"Happy eleventh, Harry." I whispered, gently stroking a lock of his hair.

BOOM.

Something hit the hut's front door loudly. I shot up to my feet.

BOOM.

I bolted to the empty fireplace, readying my hook. I used it to climb up onto the bare mantle. I gathered the twine, re-clipping the hook to my belt, then ran along the mantle stopping at the end.

Vernon and Petunia came in, Vernon clutching a rifle.

SMASH. The door fell. I bent low into a crouch, readying my long pin.

I stood and relaxed when Hagrid walked in. I breathed a sigh of relief. Not surprisingly, no one shared this relief.