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+[[!meta title="Chapter 2: Rescue"]]
+
+Harry awoke to darkness, discomfort, and impossibility.
+
+He was in the cupboard. Impossible. He and Hermione had personally flattened
+this entire house shortly after the war. The Weasleys had disapproved, saying
+Harry should forgive his relatives, but this was before the love potions had
+kicked in again and removed his free will.
+
+How could he be in the cupboard?
+
+And why was he *small?*
+
+Harry began to hyperventilate. Nothing was making sense, this couldn't be
+happening—
+
+"TIME TO GET UP, FREAK! WHY DON'T I SMELL BREAKFAST COOKING?"
+
+The tiny door was wrenched open, and Harry saw a dead man silhouetted against
+the morning light.
+
+"DON'T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT OF THERE, BOY! GET UP!"
+
+Harry started moving on automatic. Even after nearly 150 years of adult life, he
+would never forget the rules and demands of the Dursley household. He rushed out
+of the cupboard and hurried to begin preparing his captors' meal.
+
+As he slaved away in the kitchen, Harry tried to reason through his situation. A
+stolen glance at his uncle's newspaper confirmed the date — July 31st, 1987.
+Seven years old. How was he seven years old?
+
+He was pretty sure he could still feel his magic, but to be certain he'd need to
+reestablish his Occlumency, and with the damage Snape had done there was no way
+he could manage that in this emotional climate.