Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Watch where you're going, freak!" Dudley said, shoving Harry from behind.

Harry had been expecting the shove, but he hadn't expected Piers' leg to be kicked into his shins at the same time, so he fell forward heavily.

"Let me help you up, freak," Piers said, grabbing Harry by the hair. It hurt, but Harry was used to that pain too, and he allowed his head to rise with his hair. Of course, that made his face a prime target for Dudley, who kicked him.

Harry had just enough warning to close his eyes before he felt and heard Dudley's trainer crunch into his nose, and tasted dirt that was kicked into his mouth. A moment later Piers let go and Harry's face dropped back to the ground with a painful 'whack!'

The boys around him scattered, and a moment later a teacher grabbed his arm and hauled Harry to his feet. "You are so clumsy," he muttered, dragging Harry away.

Harry had learned long ago not to protest being called clumsy — no one believed Dudley was at fault, and even if they did, Uncle Vernon would just punish Harry later.

The teacher wasn't Harry's, but one for the older formers. Still, he led Harry to the office of the nurse and left him there. "Come in," a voice called. It wasn't the voice of the usual nurse, and Harry frowned. He immediately regretted the move, as it made his nose hurt and his eyes fill with tears.

A new nurse could be trouble. The regular one knew him, and aside from calling him clumsy, she did bandage him nicely whenever he was brought to her. Harry didn't like the idea of some new nurse who might be rougher, or think that he had been fighting and report him to the Headmaster.

Abruptly the door opened. "I said to come in, ch—" She stopped talking when she saw him, and Harry tensed, waiting for her to get mad at him for fighting.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but finally she said, "I'm Nurse Joyce; please come in. Can you tell me your name?"

Harry entered the office, careful to keep his eyes down. "Harry Potter."

"Well Harry, would you like to tell me what happened?" she asked.

At least here Harry was on familiar ground. "I fell down. I'm very clumsy."

"I see. Well let's have you sit in the chair over here and I'll take a look at you."

Harry did as she asked, relieved that she wasn't going to press him further about what happened.

Nurse Joyce's hands were gentle as she put antiseptic and plasters on the scrapes on his hands and knees. Then she looked at his nose, touching it gently and asking how much it hurt. Finally she handed him an ice pack and sat back on her stool. "This doesn't look broken, but I'll need to look at it tomorrow, when the swelling has gone down a little," Nurse Joyce said.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Harry asked. He was used to Nurse Collins, though he had to admit that Nurse Joyce had been nice.

"Yes," she said. "Nurse Collins is dealing with some family issues, so I will be here for at least a week. Now, do you need a ride home?"

Harry looked at the clock on the wall behind her. He still had time to get home if he walked quickly. Uncle Vernon would be mad if he got a ride from someone. "No, I can make it home in time for dinner," he assured the Nurse.

"Do you have dinner with your family every night?" she asked.

Harry analyzed her tone of voice, but she sounded like she was just concerned about him getting a ride, not anything else. "Sure," he replied, trying to sound like Dudley did when he was bragging about something. No need to make her question him.

"Alright then, I'll let you go. But be sure to keep that ice handy. I want you to keep it on for 20 minutes at a time every hour!"

"I will," Harry replied, again trying to make it sound like he wasn't lying. He would have to get rid of the ice pack before he got home, but he would use it for the whole walk to make up for that. "May I go now?"

"Of course, dear. And be sure to come see me as soon as you get to school tomorrow." Nurse Joyce got up and Harry followed suit, leaving her office quickly. Once outside, he began to walk as quickly as he was able. Running would just make his nose hurt worse, he knew, but if he walked fast he should still be home in time to cook dinner.

Joyce watched through her window as the boy hurried away and then turned back to the desk. She quickly wrote up her impressions and diagnosis of the meeting. Then she looked in Nurse Collins' file cabinet.

Even if she hadn't known his name, Harry's file was twice as fat as any other student in the I-Q drawer. Scanning through it confirmed everything that she had suspected as soon as she saw his fading bruises and skittish reactions. If that boy wasn't abused she'd eat her stethoscope.

Noticing that Collins had annotated every incident with some variation of "student fell due to own clumsiness," Joyce felt bile rise in her throat. It was unthinkable that another medical professional had missed the signs that this boy was abused, and unconscionable to think that she had let it go on for… Joyce leafed back to the oldest record in the file. Three years!

Joyce normally worked at a shelter for abused women and children, and she quickly flipped through her mental list of the social workers at the shelter. Emmy had a lower than usual load right now, and she did well with children in Harry's age range. With luck she would be free to come by the school tomorrow morning.

Emmy had arranged to come in late to the shelter with minimal grumbling and had met Joyce at the school an hour before school started. Joyce had no idea when Harry would arrive, but she wanted Emmy there before him. With fresh, if bland, coffee from the faculty lounge, they waited together.

Joyce had waited to share Harry's file or other details until he arrived. She had her opinion, but she wanted Emmy to talk to Harry and form her own opinion without being influenced by Joyce's.

Though children began to arrive in droves at half past, Harry didn't show up until there were less than ten minutes before classes. Joyce wasn't sure if this was done because he was dropped off late, or in an effort to avoid her inspection, but she greeted him warmly when he tentatively knocked on the office door.

"Come in, Harry, please." Harry started to obey, but froze when he saw Emmy. "This is my colleague, Miss Waters," Joyce explained. "I wanted a second opinion on your nose and your other injuries."

Harry appeared reluctant, just as he had with her yesterday, but he still took his place on the patient chair.

"So, did you make it home in time for dinner last night, Harry?" Joyce asked as she examined his nose. It was still swollen, and there were dark bruises spreading beneath his eyes, but it appeared that Harry had been lucky enough to avoid an actual break.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"What did you have?" Emmy asked. Harry's nose was warm to the touch, and Joyce suspected that he had lost or gotten rid of the ice pack at some point. She rolled over to the fridge to obtain another one.

"There was roast beef and scalloped potatoes," Harry all but whispered.

Trained to notice such things, Joyce realized that Harry hadn't acknowledged eating those things. She caught Emmy's eyes over his head and knew that she had picked up on his wording as well. "I love scalloped potatoes!" she said cheerfully. "What kind of cheese was it?"

"Cheddar and Muenster," Harry replied quickly.

"Munster!" Emmy declared as Joyce returned with the ice pack and pressed it to Harry's nose. "That's quite sharp tasting! Most children don't like cheese that sharp."

Harry smiled a little beneath the pack, but it didn't reach his eyes. "My cousin doesn't like it, but my aunt does."

"Did your aunt fix something else for your cousin, then?" Emmy asked as Joyce removed the plasters on his hands and checked the scrapes for infection.

Harry immediately shuttered his expression as he whispered "baked potatoes."

"So which do you prefer, Harry? The scalloped or the baked?" Emmy asked.

Harry's eyes darted around the room and finally settled on the clock. "I'm late for class," he pointed out.

"Don't worry, I already wrote a note for your teacher," Joyce assured him. His hands didn't appear infected, so she applied more disinfectant and healing ointment before putting on fresh plasters.

"Do your aunt and cousin live with your family, Harry?" Emmy asked as Joyce switched to Harry's knees. With his trousers rolled up she saw a new large bruise on his upper thigh, but she didn't comment on it.

Harry was silent for a long moment before answering, "I live with my aunt and uncle. My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joyce said. She had noticed that the emergency contact in his file didn't have the same last name as him and had wondered if his mother had remarried. An aunt and uncle, however, explained the difference.

"How old were you when it happened?" Emmy asked.

"One." Harry replied. Joyce bit her lip, hiding it by looking down at his knees. If the abuse was coming from within the household, and the presence of a fresh bruise supported that, then it was possible that he had been experiencing this since he was one!

"So you've pretty much always lived with your aunt and uncle?" Emmy asked.

"Yes."

"And you have a cousin! Is he- or she..." Emmy paused.

"He."

"Ah, is he around your age?"

"Yes."

Joyce finished with Harry's knees and pushed back on her stool in the direction of the desk. His devolution to one word answers was a sure sign that he was on guard now, despite the innocuous nature of Emmy's questions.

"It can be nice to have someone your age at home," Emmy said. "They can be like a built in friend."

Harry didn't reply, so Joyce opened his file and looked at the medical contact form again. Contacts: Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Joyce opened the top drawer of the file cabinet and quickly thumbed through the files before finding one for a Dursley, Dudley. She knew that Emmy was still talking to Harry, but Joyce tuned them out as she read through his file.

Dudley had been pulled into the nurse's office a handful of times for care; each time with injuries that indicated he had been fighting. There were plenty of bruised and scraped hands, a bite to the finger, and some bruises to his shins. Apparently Dudley was quite the brawler.

But Joyce suspected there was more to Harry's attitude than just a bullying cousin. There had to be something about the adults, either they encouraged or ignored the bullying. There was no other likely explanation for Harry's reactions.

Joyce tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Joyce ask, "so do you walk home with your cousin after school?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Do you have separate friends whom you each walk home with?" Emmy asked.

"No," came the quiet answer.

"Well how do you each get home, then?" Emmy asked, teasing gently.

Harry paused, as though he was calculating a way to answer her with just one word, but finally he sighed. "Aunt Petunia picks up Dudley."

Joyce flashed back to the evening before when Harry had left on his own, apparently walking home. "Do you usually walk home like last night?" she asked.

Harry jerked slightly, as though he had forgotten that she was still there. "Yes."

"Do you wish your aunt would drive you too?" Emmy asked.

Harry's eyes darted again. "I really should get to class."

Emmy caught Joyce's eyes and nodded gently. She had seen what Joyce had, and was of the same opinion about his probable abuse. Harry, ever alert, caught the gesture, and was now glancing rapidly between the two women.

"Harry, I want to tell you something," Joyce began. "You know that I'm not the regular nurse here?"

Harry nodded.

"I usually work at a shelter for women and children. Miss Waters works there too, though not as a nurse. Many of the children who come to the shelter are there because they aren't happy at home. Some of them aren't safe at home."

Harry was refusing to meet their eyes, instead looking down at his bandaged hands.

"Some of them aren't safe because someone hits them at home," Emmy picked up the explanation. "Sometimes they are ignored, or not fed. Sometimes they are yelled at and called bad names. Sometimes something even worse has happened."

Harry blanched, and Emmy and Joyce took advantage of his averted eyes to share another glance. Could he have been sexually abused on top of the obvious physical abuse and probable neglect?

"At the shelter, we try to heal them, give them food, and love, and support. They aren't in trouble when they come there." Joyce said. "Harry, do you know anyone at this school who might need the help of a shelter like that?"

Harry ducked his head, then fidgeted with his hands, and then finally nodded.

"Many times we try to find other family for these children to stay with," Emmy spoke up. "Do you have any other family that you know of, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are there any neighbors who you have stayed with? Or friends?" Emmy pressed.

Harry began to fidget again, but finally he whispered, "Ms. Figg."

"Harry, would you mind if I talked to Ms. Figg?" Emmy asked.

More fidgeting, but finally Harry nodded.

"Harry, would you like to go to the shelter?" Joyce offered. She knew there was at least one free bed at the shelter right now.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at her with cautious hope. Just as suddenly, it was replaced with fear. "No, thank you."

Taking a chance, Joyce scooted back over to his side. He tensed when she took one of his hands, but when she tugged on it gently he finally looked back up at her. "Harry, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that if you don't go home tonight, you'll be in trouble." His hand in her's began to tremble lightly.

"I know you don't want to be in trouble. But I'm here to tell you that you could come to the shelter and leave your aunt and uncle's house."

"Forever?" Harry finally asked, biting his lip hopefully.

This was the moment, Joyce knew, when kids either accepted help or retreated. "Almost definitely," she said. Harry tensed again. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you Harry. Not everyone stays at the shelter. Some go back to their homes, even knowing they'll get hurt. I understand why they do, even though it makes me sad on their behalf. Some kids leave the shelter and go somewhere else, like the streets, or to jail. Some find other family they didn't know they had and go live with them. But, truthfully, some go back home. Only you will decide if leaving now is really leaving forever, Harry."

Slowly, Harry lifted his head and met her gaze. "Okay."

Harry's head was spinning.

Miss Waters had taken him from school in her car. He had been a little worried that Nurse Joyce wasn't coming too, but she told him that she had to speak to the Headmaster for a little bit, and she couldn't leave the school without a nurse, but she promised that she would see him soon.

The drive had mostly been silent, though a few times Miss Waters told him how brave he was. Harry didn't feel particularly brave right now — terrified was probably a better word — but he came to like her saying it.

They didn't drive far, and soon they pulled up in front of the shelter. It was smaller than his school, but larger than Aunt Petunia's house. The front windows had bars across them, which worried Harry for a moment.

"We've had people try to break in," Miss Waters said, as though she too could read his mind. "I know the bars make it look a little like we're trying to keep you in, but I promise they are only there to keep the bad people out."

As she looked for a parking spot, Harry wondered if those bars would be enough to keep Uncle Vernon out. They just might be, and he cheered a bit at the thought.

Miss Waters finally parked and led Harry up to the door. She opened it, and cheerfully greeted the large man inside. "Harry, this is Tom. He's also here to keep the bad people out."

Tom smiled at Harry and Harry nodded back. Tom was tall, and big, but Uncle Vernon was bigger. Harry fervently hoped that the bars on the windows were strong.

They walked down a long hallway past many doors, and Harry wondered what was behind each one. Finally, Miss Waters stopped at one and knocked. Nothing happened, and she quickly opened the door and peeked her head in. "We're in luck, Harry!" she told him, beckoning him in. "Exam one is empty! It has the comfiest pillows."

Inside, Harry found a room much like the one he had just been in at school. It had an exam table, a desk and chair, and two other chairs against the wall. There was even a sink on one wall with cupboards beneath and above it. Unlike the Nurse's office at school, this room also had a large potted tree in one corner, fluffy colorful pillows and a bright green blanket on the exam table, and brightly colored paintings on the walls.

"Grab a chair, Harry, and a pillow if you'd like." Miss Waters said. She sat at the desk herself, and Harry felt a bit relieved not to be asked to sit on the bed. He eyed the pillows, and then the chairs, before finally selecting a bright red pillow and taking it over to his seat.

"So, Harry, I need to check in and let my boss know I'm back," Miss Waters said. "Will you be alright on your own for just a minute?"

Harry didn't think he would be, but he nodded anyway.

"Great. While I'm out, do you want anything to eat or drink? I skipped breakfast myself this morning, so I'm ravenous!"

Harry hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast either, but he wasn't sure about taking food from this woman, as nice as she had been. Unfortunately, the mere thought of food made his stomach rumble. Embarrassed, he clasped his hands across it, hoping it hadn't been loud enough for her to hear.

Miss Waters laughed kindly. "Alright, breakfast for both of us it is!" She got up, "I'll be right back!"

While she was gone, Harry looked more closely at the pictures on the wall. They were children's drawings, he realized, done in crayon and marker. In each one with some kind of person in it, they had a large smile across their face.

Harry was craning to see the one above his head when the door opened, and he immediately sat up straight. Miss Waters had indeed been quick, though he was a little disappointed to see that she didn't actually have any food with her.

"They're just finishing up breakfast in the dining hall here," She said, "so I asked Mark to bring us a little of everything!"

Oh, someone else was bringing it. That made sense to Harry.

"So, Harry, I have something to ask you," Miss Waters said. Though her tone was still cheerful, Harry immediately tensed.

"There's a doctor here; Doctor Abraham. He's worked with the children here for years."

She paused, and Harry wasn't sure how he was expected to respond. Finally he shrugged.

Miss Waters continued. "I know Nurse Joyce looked at your nose and your scrapes, but it would be a good idea for Doctor Abraham to look too. And he could look at anything that hurts beside your nose and hands."

Harry considered that. On the one hand, he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to look at him. On the other hand, his shoulder and leg did hurt. Maybe getting them looked at might not be bad. And if Uncle Vernon didn't know about it, he wouldn't be able to complain about how much a doctor's visit cost. A sudden thought occurred to Harry.

"I don't have any money to pay him," he admitted quietly.

Miss Waters smiled. "Oh Harry, you don't have to pay Doctor Abraham! He'll check you out for free, just like a school nurse."

"The school nurse costs money," Harry protested. His uncle had said so, just last night.

"Well, the school does pay them, but you don't have to. Doctor Abraham is paid for by the shelter, so you don't have to pay anything."

Harry frowned, ignoring the way the action tugged at his hurting nose. If she was telling the truth, then maybe he should let the Doctor here take a look at him. But also if she was telling the truth, it meant that Uncle Vernon hadn't had to pay anything all the times Harry had been sent to the nurse. Could that be possible?

Harry was pulled from his dilemma by a brisk knock on the door. "Come on in, Mark!" Miss Waters called.

A man entered, carrying two large trays full of food. There were plates of pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, and toast. Bowls of porridge and cereal flakes, and glasses of milk and orange juice were carefully balanced alongside them.

Harry's mouth immediately began to water.

"Harry," Miss Waters' voice broke through his hunger. "I want you to know that your answer won't affect you getting breakfast in the least. Do you understand that?"

Harry nodded.

"Should I have Mark here send Doctor Abraham to us when he is free?"

Harry thought about the food, the cost, and the pain in his shoulder. Finally he nodded. "Yes please."

It wasn't until much later in the evening that Joyce was able to actually sit and talk with Emmy and Abraham. She had stopped at the shelter during her lunch break and reassured Harry before going back to the school, but she hadn't had a chance to speak with the others.

They gathered in Abraham's office at half past four, each with a calming cup of tea and their own notes on Harry.

"What did the Headmaster say?" Emmy asked to start.

Joyce snorted. "Nothing. He didn't even remember Harry. Nurse Collins never reported any suspicions of abuse. The cousin has been brought before the Headmaster, however, for bullying."

"Bullying Harry?" Emmy asked.

"They didn't bother to note the victims," Joyce growled. "But he did say that the parents refused to believe that their son had done anything wrong. The father got right up in his face about it."

"He's likely the additional source of physical abuse," Abraham said.

"Then there was more?" Joyce asked. She had suspected it herself, but it still hurt to think of Harry being abused in that way.

Abraham consulted his notes. "Signs of recent trauma to the upper thigh and abdomen, as well as a strained shoulder. It looks like he was jerked by the arm and slammed into something. I'd guess that's the Uncle, given the angle his shoulder was contorted into."

"The nose and scrapes had to be the cousin or another student," Joyce said. "The teacher who brought him to me said that there were no adults around, though he couldn't identify the students involved as he doesn't teach their year."

"There's also evidence of past abuse," Abraham continued. "There are scars on his back consistent with whipping with a belt. He's had numerous broken fingers that have healed crooked, and I'd wager there are more breaks we just can't see without an in-depth scan."

"Anything else?" Emmy asked tentatively.

"No conclusive sign of sexual abuse," Abraham said. "It doesn't mean that there hasn't been, but he would need to confirm it."

"Well that's a small hope, at least," Joyce said. She knew as well as the others that sexual abuse could be done without leaving a mark, but at least there was still the hope that it hadn't happened to Harry.

"He's still skittish, but he connected with a few of the other children at play time after lunch," Emmy reported. "I called Jennifer at the Station, and she's looking into the aunt and uncle. There haven't been any suspicious hospitalizations, or Harry would have popped up on our radar before. She's also looking into the Ms. Figg he mentioned. The phone book has an Arabella Figg living a few streets away from the address in the cousin's school file; I called and left her a message."

"Anything on the parents?" Abraham asked.

Emmy shook her head. "Jennifer's looking for a death notice based on the time frame he gave us, but nothing yet. He gave a little more detail during the exam - said they died in a car crash - so I passed that on. If that's true, there should be police reports on the accident and probably even newspaper articles. Of course, since Harry was only one at the time, and all his information comes from the aunt and uncle, we're not leaving anything off the table just yet."

"They won't likely report him missing until tonight," Joyce said, thinking back to the day before. "He didn't leave my office until just shy of four, and wouldn't have gotten home until about quarter to half past. While he was hurrying to get home 'before dinner' he wasn't racing, as though it was unusually late."

"Probably staying at school as long as possible to avoid the home life," Abraham mused. It was something they had all seen often enough in their other children.

"If they report him missing Jennifer will have to tell them upfront what happened. If not, we've got three days to alert them." Emmy said. "We'll need to get all of our ducks in a row before then." She looked at Joyce. "Care to stay to dinner?"

Joyce smiled. "Of course!" She wanted to spend as much time here with Harry as possible as he settled in.

Chapter Text

After two days of research, Jennifer felt prepared to talk to both Harry's family and his neighbor. Emmy and Joyce hadn't gotten any new information from the boy, but they were running out of time. Jennifer hadn't been able to find a car crash with any victims named "Potter," nor any with two unknown fatalities around the time that Harry had indicated.

Moreover, she couldn't find a death certificate for the Potters, or any paperwork relating to young Harry before he started school. No doctor's visits, no inoculations, nothing! The boy shouldn't even have been at school without first having gotten his shots! If nothing else stuck she could at least get the aunt and uncle on neglect for that count.

Jennifer was hoping that talking with the aunt and uncle would clear up a few things, and hopefully they could point her towards the proper documents, if they weren't local. They hadn't reported the boy missing yet, but the police only had three days to report his removal, and her time would be up tomorrow morning. She wanted to get it out of the way, tonight, when it was likely neither adult would be at work. It would also give her an opportunity to observe them with their own child, and see if he needed to be withdrawn from the house too.

Joyce, who had watched the boy at school today, doubted it, but it was Jennifer and Emmy's call. Jennifer's partner, George, drove them to Little Whinging and quickly found number four, Privet Drive. It was one of a tract of cookie cutter houses, with nothing obvious to distinguish it from its neighbors. The lights were on, however, and through the lacy curtains Jennifer could see the shadows of the occupants moving about.

She and George pulled out their badges and approached the door, while Emmy hung back. George quickly knocked, and a minute later a large boy opened the door. "Mister Dursley?" Jennifer asked.

"Daaaaadddd!" the boy yelled before disappearing around the corner.

A moment later a larger version of the boy came into view down the hallway, huffing and muttering about being interrupted. As soon as he saw George and Jennifer's badges, his eyes lit up. "Caught the boy, have you?" he declared. "What'd he do?"

"I believe this is a matter better discussed inside," George said.

"Oh yes, of course, come in!" Dursley unlocked the screen and held the door open, allowing the three to precede him. Jennifer looked around quickly, noting that the boy had returned to the living room and was watching the telly. The aunt was washing dishes in the kitchen, and from the paper spread out on the dining table, the uncle had been near her. Jennifer, George, and Emmy quickly took the remaining three seats at the table.

"So, you caught the boy, eh?" Dursley declared again, with no small measure of glee. He took his seat. "Was he doing something illegal?"

"I presume you're speaking about your nephew?" Jennifer began.

Dursley ignored her and focused on George. "I always knew he'd get into trouble. You throw the book at him, you hear!"

"Your nephew?" George repeated. Usually, as she was the lead on Harry's case, Jennifer would do the questioning while her partner took the notes. However, they had dealt with Dursley's kind before, the kind who ignored female officers, and George knew he would need to do most of the talking. Jennifer quietly slipped him her folder full of files and questions and prepared herself to take the notes.

"Of course my nephew! Though only by marriage, you understand. None of his delinquency in my boy!" Dursley boasted.

"So Harry is related to you?" George turned to the wife. "Your brother or sister?"

"Her sister!" Dursley spoke again. "Married some no-good, unemployed drunk. He's the one the boy took after, of course. Nothing like my lovely Petunia here."

Jennifer quickly noted that, as George continued. "And do you know their full names?"

Dursley opened his mouth, frowned, and then turned to his wife. "Pet?"

"Lily Anne Evans, and James Charlus Potter," she said quietly. Jennifer noticed from the corner of her eye the way that Emmy was visually examining the woman for signs of abuse.

"That's a great help, thank you," George said. "Now, what makes you think your nephew was doing something illegal?"

As Dursley went off on a rant about the boy's various sins, Jennifer tried to keep pace. Finally, after the tale of how he had traumatized a relative's pitbull, the man wound down.

"I understand, from your attitude, that you would rather not see Harry returned to your home," George said carefully. "Is that correct?"

Jennifer noticed Petunia frown, but Dursley chortled. "I'd love to be done with the boy! Eating me out of house and home, he is! Doesn't lift a finger around here! I'd be glad to stop having to support him!"

"You seem to feel differently," Jennifer said to Petunia before her partner could continue.

Petunia flinched, glanced at her husband, and finally said, "He's supposed to stay here."

Jennifer noted that, while George jumped on it. "Supposed to? Do you have a contract for his care?"

Dursley became even more gleeful yet simultaneously upset. "No contract! The boy was left on our doorstep without so much as a please and thank you! Some folderol letter about keeping him safe here! Why, if my Pet hadn't been sent a photo of the boy, and if he didn't look so much like his father, we'd've thrown him back out!" The man was shouting now, clearly hitting his stride. "Why, that letter and photo might have been fakes, come to think of it! You find that boy's true guardians and let them take care of him! And tell them we expect to be paid for taking care of him these past seven years! We should be well compensated for that!"

"We'll note all of that, Mister Dursley," George said soothingly. "Now, do you have the picture and the note? Or anything else about his parents? It could be very helpful in tracking down any other relatives he might have."

Dursley grunted and Petunia quickly scurried out of the kitchen.

"Anything on your sister or her husband would be helpful too," Jennifer called after her. "Photos, documents, and the like."

"Does the boy have any things we should collect?" George asked Vernon. "As evidence?"

"Of course!" With an air of martyrdom, Dursley led them back to the hall, and gestured grandly at the cupboard under the stairs. "Had to keep his bad influence away from my poor Dudders!" he declared.

Emmy pulled the camera from her bag and handed it to Jennifer. "We'll be taking some photos, for our report," George explained.

"Of course! Of course!" Dursley said.

Jennifer quickly got a photo of the outside of the cupboard before George opened it. Then she ducked inside and snapped pictures of the interior. It was a broom cupboard, with a small camping cot shoved inside. It barely fit, and Jennifer could see brooms and mops tucked beneath it. The shelves on the back wall contained cleaning supplies, but also a few items of children's clothing and a couple of stubby crayons. There was a thin blanket on the cot and what appeared to be a crayoned sketch tucked behind a bucket. Jennifer took pictures of it all.

She could hear George asking questions about the space, if the boy had anything else in the house, and the like, but Jennifer could barely hear him over the blood pounding in her ears. It took several deep breaths before she could school her expression enough to consider stepping back out in the hallway. "I see a few articles of clothing, some crayons, and a picture," she reported calmly. "To the best of your knowledge these are your nephews?"

"We gave him everything, even the clothes on his back!" Dursley exclaimed. "Unless he stole them-"

"So do you have any objection to us gathering those items?" George cut him off. "We'll show you each item as we remove it from the cupboard."

Dursley had no objection, so Emmy ducked inside and brought the pieces out. Jennifer pulled an evidence bag out of her belt pouch and held it open, ready. Dursley allowed the crayons and the drawings, and also a handful of shirts and a pair of trousers. When asked about pants and socks, he said he had no idea where the boy kept such things. Emmy eventually found them beneath the cot and they were added to the bag.

By then, Petunia had returned with the documents they asked for, and she took a look inside the cupboard to confirm that all of her nephew's items had been removed. With Dursley's injunction to take all the documents and find out who the boy truly belonged to, for the purposes of compensating him, of course, the trio was ushered from the house.

Once safely back in their car, Jennifer let loose with the growl she'd been holding in all evening. "Those bloody bastards!"

"That cupboard!" Emmy sounded on the verge of tears. "He couldn't have fit, and all those chemicals…"

"It all goes in the report," Jennifer spat. "We'll get him for this."

"Thank god the idiot just handed it all to us!" George added. "We'll be able to nail his arse to the wall for sure!"

After a few minutes, they calmed enough for George to start the car and drive around the corner. From there, it was very simple to find the residence of the Ms. Figg they had found in the phone book.

Arabella took stock of the three muggles who had come to see her. She made tea and prattled about her cats while her mind whirled with the possibilities.

They wanted to know about poor Harry Potter, of course. Part of her had been waiting for this day to come. She had seen the bruises, and the fights with Dudley out on the lawn. She had heard the stories from Harry himself when he was younger, and noticed the way he had changed over the years. Arabella was no fool.

But, Dumbledore had been kind to her. When her own family had thrown her out, Dumbledore had gotten her a home in the Muggle world. He had even gotten her a job, for a while, at his brother's pub. When she had finally quit, unable to continue living in a world she was shunned from, he had been understanding. He had gotten her a house, and enough money to never have to work a muggle job. And his only request in return was that she hide Harry Potter from the wizarding world. He had given her so much, and yet asked for so little in return.

He would be angry, Arabella knew, if he found out that Harry had left his relatives. He would get the boy back from the police with magic and place him back at Privet Drive. She shouldn't interfere with that.

On the other hand, Arabella didn't like to see the boy hurt, and not just because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Part of her didn't want to see him returned to the Dursleys' care. But should she tell these police officers the whole truth about the boy? Should she tell them Dumbledore's name, and warn them about the boy's accidental magic? Should she tell them the real way that James and Lily had died?

Arabella wanted to. She wanted the world of magic flung open for all Muggles to see, and have those pompous fools be wiped out by Her Majesty's forces. That would teach them not to abandon their own children.

But, at the same time, those ten years before her letter didn't come were the best of Arabella's life. She had spent years cherishing that secret. Could she give it up now?

"Ma'am!" the female officer finally interrupted Arabella's thoughts and her tale about how Mr. Tibbles had once caught a mouse. Arabella paused, staring at the woman dumbly. "Ma'am, we have questions about a little boy you might know. Harry Potter."

"Oh yes, young Harry. He lives up the street with his family," Arabella said.

"Do you know anything about his parents?" the female officer asked.

"They died when he was just a babe, the poor dear. I met them once or twice; Lily brought the baby around, of course, to see her sister."

"Do you know where they lived?"

Nowhere a Muggle could find, Arabella thought. "No."

"Do you know how they died?"

Of course Arabella did, but she couldn't tell them that without telling every other secret she held so tightly. Dumbledore would be so upset with her if she told these people the truth. "No."

"We've spoken to Lily's sister, but she didn't have much information about James' family, or any other Potters," the officer said. "Obviously, that family name is popular enough that we'll have a bit of trouble narrowing down young Harry's next of kin. Do you know of any family members he might have?"

"Let's see now…" Of course Arabella could recite every Lord and Lady Potter back four hundred years, thanks to her lessons as a child, but she couldn't tell Muggles that. Although, if Harry was already going to be taken away from his aunt and uncle, then nothing she said would change that. Perhaps if she just pointed them in the right direction, Dumbledore would be so busy keeping them off the trail of the magical world that he wouldn't have the time to be upset with her for letting Harry escape. Yes, that was a good plan.

"Well I believe Lily mentioned something about James being with his father Charlus, once," Arabella pretended to recall. "She was pushing young Harry in the pram, and I asked where the father was. She said something about family business with Grandpa Charlus."

"Grandpa?" the male officer asked. "Could she have meant her own grandfather?"

Arabella hid a smile. Sharp as a tack, these muggles were! "Well she said it to the baby, you know the way that people do? 'Daddy's with Grandpa Charlus!' Though I suppose, now that you mention it, she could have been referring to James' grandfather, or her own."

And with that, Arabella knew, the kneezle was out of the bag. She easily rebuffed the rest of the questions, but she knew it would now only be a matter of time before they found the truth about the Potters. She just hoped Dumbledore was ready for them.

Alexander Macmillan, solicitor and barrister of law, had become rather used to his morning routine. All owls were directed to leave mail in a special receptacle within the firm's owlery, so he wouldn't be disturbed at work. His secretaries knew better than to interrupt him during his morning tea, and at the moment he had no pressing cases.

Thus, he was entirely surprised when his office door burst open just as he was having a second biscuit. He fully intended to chide the secretary - undoubtedly one of the new, younger ones - but to his shock it was his niece, Rachel. She handled the muggle side of his firm, and was one of the highest ranked employees there.

"Uncle Mac, there's a Muggle police inquiry into the Potters!" she blurted out.

"What?"

She handed him a thin stack of papers. "The Muggle police are enquiring of all precincts and law offices for information about a family; son Harry Potter, father James Charlus Potter, mother Lily Anne Potter nee Evans, and possible grandfather or great-grandfather Charlus Potter or Charlus Evans."

"Why on earth would they do that?" Alexander asked, even as he leafed through the papers. They were photocopies; one stating the parties being investigated, with a crude family tree drawn out for the Potters, one stating who to contact with information, and one offering more information about the Evans family. None of them explained why more information was needed.

"Should we contact them?" Rachel asked.

"If the Muggles are looking into things, they might be able to lead us to young Harry," Alexander mused. "Call them immediately, and inform them that our firm is on retainer to the Potters, and has been for several generations. Let them know that we are vitally interested in their questions about the Potter family."

"Should I mention Harry Potter?"

"Not individually. Let's get more information out of them first. I can't see this being a magical ploy, but you can never be too careful."

Rachel took the papers back and then hurried from the office, while Alexander finished sipping his tea. If the police wanted to speak on the phone, they would do so immediately. However, Alexander suspected that they would want to talk to him in person. The precinct listed on the forms was in Surrey, only an hour's ride on the tube from his offices in Kensington. Alexander glanced at his calendar, but his day was unusually free. Still, he should move his three o'clock, just in case.

He pushed the button on the magical intercom. "Miss Greengrass, please reschedule my meeting with the ICW representative. Also, have someone fetch all of the Muggle files for the Potters." He would go over the files while he waited for Rachel to return.

"Jen, we've got a lead," George said, poking his head into the shelter's conference room. "Family barrister on retainer."

"What?" Joyce blurted as she and Emmy looked up in shock.

"Retainer means either legal troubles or big money," Emmy continued.

"He's in Kensington," George said, raising an eyebrow.

Joyce whistled. "Money."

"He coming here?" Jennifer asked.

George shook his head. "He said it would take him a while to find the files. Asked that we attend to his offices, as that would be faster."

"Let's go!" Jennifer grabbed Harry's file. "Emmy, as his social worker, you should come too. Joyce-"

"I'll hold down the fort," she teased.

The other three were ready to go within five minutes and even without the siren George made excellent time to Kensington. Soon they were entering the very impressive offices of Macmillan, Chang, and Fawcett.

Jennifer was floored when they were immediately shown into the offices of Lord Macmillan himself. There were several file folders on his desk, and a secretary sat at a side table with a stenotype machine.

After welcoming them cordially, Lord Macmillan sat back behind his desk. "Now, I'm sure you understand that there are some confidentiality issues, but I will do everything I can to help. So what can I do for you officers?" he asked.

"We're looking for more information about James and Lily Potter," Jennifer began.

"I went to school with James and Lily," Lord Macmillan immediately said. "And my father with Charlus and Dorea; James's parents."

"Would you say you were friends?" George asked.

"We were not close friends, but we were more than acquaintances. As my niece mentioned on the phone, we Macmillans have been the barristers for the Potter family for over five generations. As James and I were both heirs to our family titles, we were trained in certain things. We saw each other at balls and functions, and I drafted the legal paperwork for his marriage to Lily, as well as the wills for both Potters. I also attended their wedding, and they mine."

"You have their wills?" George asked, just as Emmy squeaked, "heirs?"

Lord Macmillan smiled. "Upon the death of his father, James became Earl Potter. Upon the death of James, which was, I'm sad to say, only a few years later, the title passed to his son, Harry. And yes, this office retained copies of the wills of Lord and Lady Potter."

Once again, Jennifer found herself floored by what she was hearing. However, she had a job to do, so she stopped gaping and asked, "And do you know their son, Harry?"

"I never personally met the boy," Lord Macmillan said with a frown. "However, our firm has been searching for him since the death of James and Lily. He was taken from their home immediately after their deaths and we have been unable to locate him since."

"Do you know anything about Lily Potter's family?" George asked.

"I know she had a sister, but they were estranged. It came up during the creation of the wills. We endeavored to contact them for several years, but all of our mail was returned unopened."

"Do you have proof of this?" George asked. Lord Macmillan immediately picked up one of the files and handed it over. "I can't show you the contents of every letter, but you can see the records of attempts."

While her partner flipped through it, Jennifer asked, "Why have you been searching for Harry?" she asked.

"The first reason was that the will specified who young Harry was to be placed with after his parent's death. As the executors charged with enforcing the will, we were attempting to place Harry with his godmother, godfather, or other family on the list. Additionally, due to the rank of Lord Potter, it was rather imperative that the child be placed with someone who, as James wrote, would care for the child, rather than his political capital or wealth."

"And the second reason?" Jennifer asked.

"The second reason was that the Potters died in a home invasion by a terrorist group; a violent affair. We were concerned for the emotional well-being of young Harry after witnessing that event, and wanted to ensure that his needs in that respect were also being taken care of. It was also possible that the attackers had targeted Lord or Lady Potter for a reason. As their son and heir, Harry might also be in danger from the same group."

"Did you file a missing person's report when you couldn't find him?" George asked, looking up from the file on the Dursleys.

"I attempted to, but never heard back from the precinct involved." Lord Macmillan said sourly. "When pressed, I was told that he was 'somewhere safe.' Further legal action left me with 'cease and desist' orders."

He handed over another file, which George took. Jennifer pulled the first from his hand and flipped through it. Almost a dozen envelopes marked 'undeliverable' and 'return to sender' were inside, as well as photocopies of what she assumed were the envelope's contents. The envelopes were all addressed to Number 4, Privet Drive, where Harry's aunt and uncle lived.

Lord Macmillan cleared his throat. "Now, may I ask… it appears from your line of questioning that you have found young Lord Potter?"

Jennifer and George exchanged a glance. "We might have," George said.

A flicker of relief crossed the Lord's face. "Is he safe?" he asked.

Jennifer and Emmy exchanged a glance this time. It was reassuring to hear that kind of question, especially given the news that their Harry was possibly — probably — a Peer of the realm and richer than Midas. "He is currently staying somewhere safe," Jennifer allowed. "However, we will need proof that he is indeed the same Harry Potter."

"I have access to all of the Potter's legal information, including young Harry's birth certificate. The Potters also had his fingerprints, blood, and hair taken as part of a child abduction kit. A blood test and or fingerprint test could be performed on the boy you have. Additionally, I have photos of the Potters, and can obtain photos of young Harry that were given to his godmother."

Lord Macmillan paused, and Jennifer had to keep herself from leaning forward eagerly. He knew something else; she could tell. Finally he said, "There is another matter of some delicacy. In my quest for young Harry, before the records were sealed, I obtained a copy of his medical report from the night his parents were killed. It was reported that he had a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead as a result of the attack. It is, of course, entirely possible that the scar later faded away, or was removed with subsequent surgery, but if it remains…"

Emmy let out a little gasp, and Jennifer knew why. She had seen Harry's medical records herself, and of course she had seen the scar with her own eyes. It was seeming more and more likely that they had found the truth about their Harry, but one thing was still bothering her. She didn't put much stock in the words of a child abuser, but the uncle had been quite sure that Harry's father was an unemployed degenerate. If he had been a Peer, and as wealthy as Lord Macmillan implied, surely the uncle would have attempted to get his hands on the boy's fortune?

George seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he asked, "Do you have any documents on Lily Potter's relation to her family? Specifically the sister and her husband?"

Lord Macmillan rifled through the folders on his desk for a minute. "Here it is; Lily's will. She stated that everything she had was left to Harry. If Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, wanted to purchase her share of their childhood home in Spinner's End at a later time, she could do so at a reasonable price. Nothing was to go to her husband, Vernon Dursley. Her son, Dudley Dursley, would be given the same option for purchase of the Spinner's End property when he came of age, if Petunia passed before then."

He flipped a few pages. "Then, under guardianship of Harry, it states that Vernon and Petunia Dursley are under no circumstances to become the guardians of young Harry. Vernon hated James Potter, and Petunia's jealousy of Lily would lead, she feared, to an unsafe home environment for Harry if he were placed with them. After the long list of acceptable replacement guardians, she lists an orphanage and foster care as preferable alternatives before the Dursleys are considered."

George whistled.

"Do you know more about the details behind the estrangement?" Jennifer quickly asked.

Lord Macmillan thought a moment. "The school that James, Lily, and myself attended was quite exclusive. Lily came on a scholarship, but her sister was denied. Not academically qualified, if I recall. Her sister — Petunia — was quite jealous. They barely spoke to each other after that. The rest, I believe, stems from a misunderstanding, or possibly a misleading of Vernon. I do recall, at the Potter wedding, Mr. Dursley making some comment about James not being able to afford a better location, or some such. It was nonsense, of course, but later, when Lily and James were drawing up their wills, I was reminded about it and asked."

"Because of his station, James did not need to work for a living. He intended to, of course, because that was the way Uncle Charlus raised him. Apparently Mr. Dursley, around the time he married Petunia, got it into his head that James was poor because he didn't have a job. I'm not sure either James or Lily wanted to correct him, as he was very greedy and social conscious. They didn't want him trying to claim the Potter fortune through Petunia or some such. Lily said something along the lines of it being better for all parties involved if they just pretended that she and Petunia weren't related."

"Hence them being blacklisted for taking in young Harry," George said.

"That's what I surmised," Lord Macmillan said. "If those stories were true, then the Dursleys were certainly the kind to take in young Harry simply to get their hands on his wealth, without caring for the child himself."

That certainly fit with the impression Jennifer had gotten of the man, and it explained his comments about the Potters being unemployed. "We'll need copies of all this paperwork before we move forward."

"Of course." Lord Macmillan pressed the button on his intercom. "Miss Greengrass, see to it that photocopies are made of all the Potter's non-confidential files." He released the button and turned back to Jennifer and George. "Are you able to wait? It should only take about ten minutes."

"Sure," George said, as a young paralegal entered. Lord Macmillan gathered the files remaining on his desk and Jennifer and George handed over the ones they had. She quickly left.

"Now, I understand that you are also bound from disclosing certain things," Lord Macmillan said, "but I must say now that there are several people who, like myself, have been looking for Harry Potter since his disappearance. Namely, the families who were to have guardianship of him. May I contact them and arrange a meeting with you, and perhaps young Harry?"

"We will certainly want to meet with these people," Jennifer said. "But I think we should hold off on bringing Harry into things until we've confirmed who he is."

"We have a friend at the lab, so it shouldn't take more than a week to get the blood tests back," George added.

"And after that, we'll see about getting him into an appropriate home." Jennifer concluded.

"Very good." Lord Macmillan consulted his desk calendar. "Are you free at this same time the day after tomorrow? I think that will be suitable notice for the others to make arrangements and get off work."

Jennifer glanced back at Emmy, who nodded. "We'll see you then, Lord Macmillan."

Chapter Text

As soon as the muggle police officers were gone, Alexander Macmillan immediately called for Rachel. "Floo call Madam Bones, Madam Longbottom, and Gringotts. Get me Grimfang. We need to meet immediately. Get me Andromeda Tonks as well, I suppose. Oh and your mother. And the Bells. Have them wait until after lunch, however. Actually, no, have the Bells scheduled for tomorrow morning. And clear the rest of my calendar for the week. If it isn't one of those parties or the muggles who just came in, I'm not available."

"Right away, Uncle Mac," Rachel said before scurrying away.

Once she was gone, Alexander sat back in his chair. He needed to compose himself before the others arrived. But Harry Potter had been found!

Remembering, he waved his wand and the stenographer in the corner whom the police had seen faded away, revealing the dicta-quill and parchment that had been behind the glamour. He summoned the parchment and read over it for anything he might have missed, while waiting for the others.

Though she hadn't given her title, the magic of the quill had noted that the third woman was not a police officer, but a social worker. She was probably Harry's case worker, he realised, and he made a note to investigate her further as soon as possible.

A moment later, his secretary, the young Miss Greengrass, entered. "Will you be wanting lunch?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, in the meeting room, please." She left to arrange it, and Alexander followed her to the meeting room down the hall. It was a wizarding meeting room, with portraits of previous heads of the firm, and a pair of dicta-quills in the corner. The muggle version was down the opposite hall, and there he would be having the meeting with the muggle police later that week.

Augusta Longbottom was the first to arrive, followed closely by Alexander's sister-in-law Rebecca. Grimfang and Andromeda Tonks were each ushered in a few moments later. Finally Amelia Bones rushed in, and Rachel closed the door behind her. The privacy wards immediately sprang to life.

"Thank you for coming," Alexander said. "I realize this was very short notice, but what I have to say is of great importance. Andromeda, you are here in proxy for your cousin, Sirius Black. Madam Longbottom, you are here in proxy for Frank and Alice Longbottom. Amelia, you are here in proxy for Edgar and Emmaline Bones, while Rebecca, you are here in proxy for Marlene McKinnon. Potter Account Manager Grimfang, thank you for coming."

The goblin nodded regally while the others looked a little startled. With those proxies named and the Potter Account Manager present, it was becoming clear to them why they were called.

"Now," Alexander continued. "I have reason to believe that young Harry Potter has been found."

The others gaped, and Alexander hurried to explain the meeting he had just had. Then he pulled forth his own copy of the will. "In order, James and Lily Potter listed the following preferred guardians for Harry. Harry's godmother, Alice Longbottom nee Fawcett, and her husband Frank Longbottom. Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Emmaline Bones nee Abbott, and her husband Edgar Bones. Marlene McKinnon."

"Obviously, with Alice and Frank… in the condition they are in, Augusta has taken up guardianship of their son, and would have done the same with Harry, had he been in their care at the time. The same is true of Amelia and young Susan. Now, any in the wizarding world would recognize the right to claim Harry of any of your four, based on your family ties. However, we are dealing with muggle officials. It is possible they will find all of you unsuitable guardians.

Before the others could complain, he continued. "What we need are muggle documents stating your right to this claim. I know, and the Wizarding world knows, why Neville would immediately go to Augusta. But the muggles need what is known as a paperwork trail. Something stating that you are to claim any children or wards of your next of kin, and then stating that you have done so, in the case of Neville and Susan. Rebecca, you will need the same kind of statement, indicating that you would have taken charge of any child or ward of your sister Marlene. Andromeda, yours will be trickier. We need a will, if Sirius had one, and any documents pertaining to his arrest and trial. Again, we all know what happened, but the Muggles need proof."

"Amelia, we also need reports about the various attacks. The DMLE has their own reports, of course, but we need the muggle versions. It will look quite suspicious already that all of Harry's potential guardians are dead or otherwise detained, and we simply can't tell the Muggles about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Some form of timeline for the attacks is necessary. At the time, we wrote up the Potter deaths as a home invasion. However, that will affect the documentation for Sirius Black's crime. How can we explain his relation to the home invasions? How do we explain the severity of his punishment? Gran Augusta, we need medical paperwork for Alice and Frank. The healers should have some forms already, but they will need to include a diagnosis that appears logical to the Muggles."

Finally, Alexander turned to the goblin. "Account Manager Grimfang, I have given the muggles something that Lady Lily prepared, so that they can perform their own blood tests on the child they believe in Harry. While I am aware that Gringotts has the ability to magically determine the blood relations of a child it is, again, something that cannot be shared with Muggles. Once they have satisfied themselves as to who he is, we will need to have a meeting with the Muggles and Harry introducing him to his position as the Muggle Lord Potter."

"After that, and after we have been able to introduce him to the wizarding world—"

"Introduce him?" Augusta demanded.

"Yes. Given the fact that the muggles have found him, and since I have been unable to reach young Harry through magical means these last seven years, I believe he has been living with muggles all this time. It is highly probable that he knows nothing of the magical world."

Alexander turned back to Grimfang. "After we have been able to introduce him to the wizarding world, then he will be able to magically claim his position as Lord Potter. I know your leaders are aware of the means of doing these things. We have roughly a week to put those means into place."

"Understood," Grimfang said. Then he whispered something in gobbledegook and was portkeyed away.

"The rest of you have until the day after tomorrow," Alexander said. "That is when I've arranged for you to meet with the Muggle law enforcement who have Harry."

"Why don't we just take him and obliviate them?" Augusta asked.

"Do you know the headache that would cause me?" Amelia asked. "Unauthorized obliviating of Muggles is a crime!"

"More importantly, it would not be effective," Alexander said. "Muggles have devices called computers that operate much like magically self-updating files. The technology is still in its infancy, but nevertheless Harry is already in their system. If we remove him and obliviate the Muggles, the computers will remind them, and they will come after him again. Also, we do not know how many Muggles are aware of his presence. We could miss one, and then have to do the whole thing over. No, we will need to do this the Muggle way, for now."

Harry was feeling overwhelmed. He'd gone from his life at the Dursleys to a shelter in what felt like an instant, and now they were saying that it was possible he had a family out there. Family, and godparents, and people who wanted him. People who had been looking for him for years, even! It was hard to believe, after what he had been told all his life by the Dursleys, but it was exactly what Harry had dreamed about. A family who had been looking for him all along.

When he confessed those feelings to Miss Waters, she told him that many orphans and abused children wished for the same thing. The fact that his wish might actually come true was something of a minor miracle.

It took almost two weeks for the paperwork and blood tests and Harry didn't know what all else to be finished, and finally it was the day he was going to meet his barrister. Geeze! Two weeks ago he had been stuck at the Dursleys. He was just getting used to the shelter and the other kids and Miss Waters and Doctor Abraham and now he had a barrister and a family!

Harry had taken to pinching himself on the inside of his elbow where no one would see, afraid that he would wake up and find it all a dream. But when he woke up that morning he was still at the shelter, and there was a note on his cubby from Miss Waters telling him to dress nicely, so Harry had to believe that it was still happening. He put on his new jeans and long sleeved shirt, which weren't new, strictly speaking, as they had been donated to the shelter. But they were new to him and they fit him ever so much better than Dudley's cast-offs. He even had actually new pants and socks, and trainers with no holes in them.

When he was done dressing, Harry took a moment to look himself over in the washroom mirror. He had never really cared about his appearance before, other than knowing that if he was too scruffy it would upset Uncle Vernon, but now Harry wanted to dress up. He wanted to impress these people who said they were his family, so they would want to keep him.

Of course, part of Harry feared that the new people would be just as bad as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, but Miss Waters had assured him that she wouldn't let them take him if that was the case. And, she said, if they ever acted like that, Harry was to come right back here and tell her so. Harry found that very reassuring.

And so, dressed in his nice, clean, fitting clothes, Harry found himself and Miss Waters in a bus to his barrister's office. The ride was long, and Harry could tell from his surroundings that they were going to a very posh part of the city.

The barrister's building itself was also posh, especially on the inside. A secretary escorted them to the conference room, which had a polished wooden table and leather chairs. Harry was almost afraid to sit in them, but he remembered that he wasn't wearing Dudley's dirty cast-offs anymore, and his new clothes were all clean. Gingerly, he sat.

Miss Waters seemed to notice his reluctance, or guess at his fears, because she gave him a reassuring smile once he was seated. Harry smiled back. "You can do this," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

Harry nodded. Yes he could.

A moment later, three people entered the room. One was a younger woman who looked much like the secretary who had shown them to the conference room. Then there was a man who looked about the same age as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Lastly was a much older woman. All three were dressed in fine looking clothes. Harry thought they were probably expensive clothes, but having so little experience with such things he wasn't sure.

"Miss Waters, nice to see you again," the man said politely. "And young Harry, I presume. I am Lord Alexander Macmillan. I went to school with your parents, and I was both their barrister and yours." Lord Macmillan stuck out his hand and Harry shook it timidly. "You may call me Uncle Mac, as my nieces and nephews do," he continued. "This woman," he indicated the younger woman, "is one of my nieces, and a paralegal here at the office."

"Rachel Macmillan" she said, shaking hands with both Miss Waters and Harry.

"And this," Lord Macmillan - Uncle Mac - continued, "is Madam Augusta Longbottom. She is the mother-in-law of your godmother, Alice Longbottom. She has a grandson your age, and your mother was his godmother. That makes you, in a sense, godbrothers. As such, you and young Neville should have been raised together."

Harry politely shook her hand as well, though he was beginning to feel overwhelmed again. Fortunately, the other three took seats on the opposite side of the table, giving him a little space. "Now," Uncle Mac said, once they had settled and Rachel had passed him a file, "We are here to discuss the situation of young Harry. As blood tests have confirmed that he is the child of my clients James and Lily Potter, and thus of the family Potter for whom I am hired on retainer, I am now his barrister."

Uncle Mac looked at Harry directly. "What that means, son, is that I work for you. If you need anything legal done, I will help you. I will also keep your confidence, as part of my confidentiality oath. There are some things that I might need to share with the police in order to keep you safe, but I promise that I will take care of you first and foremost. Do you understand that?"

Harry mostly understood it, so he nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good." Uncle Mac smiled broadly. "That's the official business out of the way. Now I can tell you, son, how glad I am to have found you at last. We've been looking for you for seven years, since the death of your parents."

He paused, but Harry wasn't sure what he was expected to say. "Thank you, Sir." He guessed.

"As Harry's social worker," Miss Waters spoke up, "I believe that the first thing that needs to be discussed is Harry's future living and schooling situation. He has currently been pulled from his school and former residence and is living at one of our shelters."

Madam Longbottom frowned a little at that, but Harry couldn't tell why. Rachel looked sad for him, though.

"Ah yes!" Uncle Mac said. He pulled another paper from the file in front of him. "In their will, Lily and James listed four people whom they wanted to have guardianship of young Harry. These four are, in order, his godmother, Alice Longbottom nee Fawcett, and her husband Frank Longbottom. Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Family friend Emmaline Bones nee Abbott, and her husband Edgar Bones. And finally family friend Marlene McKinnon."

Uncle Mac put down the paper and clasped his hands together before looking seriously at Harry and Miss Waters. "Now, this is where things get complicated. First, the Longbottoms. Alice and Frank are, at the moment, in a long term care ward at the hospital, due to a similar attack shortly after the one that killed the Potters. Harry should have been placed with them immediately upon the deaths of his parents, meaning that he would have been with his godbrother Neville at Madam Longbottom's when they were attacked. He would then have grown up there with Neville."

"Now, for his godfather. Sirius Black is, at the moment, in jail. Had Harry been taken to him after the death of the Potters, he would then have gone, as per Sirius's directive, to his close cousin, Andromeda Tonks. She has a daughter a few years older than Harry and Neville, by the way. Andromeda is a doctor, and her husband owns his own small business."

Uncle Mac glanced down at his papers and then back at Harry and Miss Waters. "Emmaline and Edgar Bones have also, unfortunately, passed on, and their daughter, who is the same age as Harry, is being raised by her Aunt. Madam Bones is a high ranking special forces officer and a stickler for the rules, but a very fair and loving guardian to young Susan. She has assisted me as much as she can over the years with my search for young Harry."

"Lastly Marlene McKinnon. She died without children, but her will stated that any children she had guardianship of, including Harry and her goddaughter, were to be passed to her sister, Rebecca. Rebecca is my sister-in-law, and Rachel's mother. They have several children, of whom Rachel is the oldest, as do I. My oldest son is also the same age as Harry and Neville Longbottom."

Harry took a moment to accept all of that information. He had four potential guardians, but they were all dead or unable to take him. But from the sound of it, each of them had a second person who would have taken him in. He would have been around children his own age, and surely they wouldn't all be bullies like Dudley. There might even be one who liked him! Still, though, it was staggering that all of his guardians were gone. Maybe he was cursed! "Is it strange, that everyone who was supposed to take me in is dead or something?" he asked.

"It is a bit unusual, but easily explained," Uncle Mac said. "You are, of course, too young to remember, but I dare say Miss Waters isn't. About fifteen, twenty, years ago, a group began launching terrorist attacks around the country. I don't know all the details of what they wanted, but they engaged in various activities, such as home invasions, blowing up businesses, attacking the tube and bus stations, and the like. Sometimes it almost seemed like there was more than one group, as things were so scattered and seemingly random. They faded away about a decade later, but during the height of their reign it was quite chaotic."

"Now, it is true that both the Potters and the Longbottoms were attacked directly by this group. However, the Longbottoms are the only of your guardians who were. Sirius was arrested on unrelated charges, but I think he, for want of a better term, cracked, after the loss of the Potters." Uncle Mac cleared his throat. "James was like a brother to Sirius, and your grandparents took him in when his family disowned him. After James and Lily were killed, he was never the same. I believe his grief is what led to the poor decisions he made that lead to his incarceration."

"The Boneses were soldiers, and died in the line of duty. And Marlene McKinnon was a bystander who was killed in one of the random attacks on a tube station. It is a bit of an unfortunate coincidence for you that all five of these incidents happened within a year or so, but it is not due to any sinister conspiracy or some such. It is certainly not a reflection on you, Harry, or on their desire to take care of you."

"The truly unfortunate part is simply that, with all four of your potential guardians 'out of commission,' as they say, it greatly restricted my ability to fight the department who was blocking my access to you. Had one of your guardians been available to lay claim to you, it would have aided my efforts. Their proxies, however, such as Madam Longbottom here, hold far less sway in the courts."

That reassured Harry slightly; it was easier to believe in horrible coincidences than in him being cursed. And the idea that these people had still been trying to find him, despite the courts blocking them, made him feel better about having been stuck at the Dursleys for the last seven years. But now that they had found him, and since he had no obvious guardian, only, as Uncle Mac had called them, proxies, what did that mean for him? "So now what?"

Uncle Mac smiled broadly. "Now, we find you a home. As I have explained, Madam Longbottom, Madam Bones, Missus Tonks, and my brother's family would all be willing to take you in. All of them have children around your age or slightly older. You have your pick of families. I dare say, however, though I can only speak for the Macmillan clan, that even if you are not living with one family, you will still be considered a part of it."

Harry was blown away. His entire life the Dursleys had told him that no one wanted him. How he had been forced upon them. And now four families were willing to take him in? And more than that they wanted him? He had no idea what to say.

Fortunately Miss Waters spoke up for him. "That is very reassuring, Lord Macmillan," she said. "And I think Harry should spend some time with each of your families to see which place he fits in the best. Now, I have a few other questions. As you know, Harry has been out of school for the past two weeks, and we would like to re-enroll him as soon as possible. I believe that sharing a school with your children would be an excellent start."

"Well Andromeda's daughter and Rachel's younger sisters all are in secondary school now," Uncle Mac began. "The younger children are all homeschooled with tutors. It is something of a tradition for those of… a certain station."

Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but Miss Waters seemed to, as she was now frowning. "I see. I certainly understand that, but I'm not sure that would be the best course of action for Harry at the moment. Socializing with his peers is an important part of his recovery."

"Yes, yes, I can see where Harry would be an exception to the usual way," Uncle Mac said thoughtfully. "I would recommend a Prep school, then. He's old enough to be a boarder or a day student, and that kind of school would prepare him for his future as Lord Potter. Additionally, a boarding school would give him a… a home base, as it were, while the legalities of his guardianship are being sorted."

Harry carefully watched Miss Waters think about that. "The cost-" she began.

Uncle Mac pulled out another paper from his file. "The Potters set up a trust fund for Harry. He or his guardians are allowed to withdraw up to 25,000 pounds a year from the age of four until the age of eleven, for the purposes of school tuition, books, uniforms, and the like. At eleven, as secondary school often costs more, he is allowed to withdraw up to 100,000 pounds a year. At seventeen, when he is ready to enter tertiary education, he will have reached his majority and be able to pull from the main Potter accounts. Any amount remaining in his trust fund will be reincorporated into the main accounts at that time."

It sounded like a lot of money to Harry, but then he didn't really have a good reference point for that sort of thing. Instead, he glanced back at Miss Waters, who looked like someone had just hit her with a lorry. Uncle Mac chuckled. "As I said before, the Potters, like the Macmillans and Longbottoms, are of a certain station in life. Prep school expenses are a mere doodle. That is why most of our children are schooled with private tutors who can tailor the education to their interests and speed. If Harry is to continue to attend school, I believe I speak for all of his guardians when I say that he shall attend the best!"

Harry was overwhelmed by that, and a quick peek at Miss Waters showed that she felt the same. "Did the Dursleys take out money to pay for school and the nurse?" he asked the first thing that came into his mind. Uncle Vernon had always called him a burden, and complained about how much money Harry cost them.

Uncle Mac looked through his papers. "In addition to the money allotted for schooling, your guardians were entitled to withdraw up to 25,000 pounds a year for your care. If unexpected hardships occur, such as a major illness, your guardian is entitled to meet with a representative of the bank. If they can prove valid need, then they may withdraw additional funds. According to the bank, there have been regular withdrawals every month, resulting in the maximum being withdrawn every year. Your first two years with the Dursleys, that was the 25,000 pounds for care. Once you turned four, they also began to withdraw the school funds, resulting in them receiving 50,000 pounds a year."

"They were getting paid?" Harry whispered. Another glance at Miss Waters showed her to be angry. She probably thought she was hiding it, but Harry was very good at telling when someone was mad. "I wasn't a burden?"

Uncle Mac also looked mad, but he hid it much better than Miss Waters. "No, Harry, you were not a burden on the Dursleys. And in fact, if they were not spending all of that money on your care and schooling, then they were in fact stealing from you."

"Oh," Harry considered that for a long moment. Each of Uncle Vernon's rants about money — the cost of Harry's school, his trips to the nurse and the hospital, when Harry needed to get glasses, how much Harry was allowed to eat — each lecture raced through his mind. Before Harry could think of something to say, Miss Waters spoke up.

"I think Harry has a lot to consider now, so we should be going," she said. "If you will provide a list of schools for him to look at, we will make plans to meet his other potential guardians in the near future."

"Of course," said Uncle Mac. "In the meantime, Harry, would you like me to have the bank stop the automatic withdrawals by the Dursleys?"

Harry nodded. Part of him hoped that there was still an explanation for why Uncle Vernon had always called him a burden, but in the meantime, if he wasn't living with them, there was no reason for them to still be paid. "Can I have the money go to the shelter instead?"

"Harry, that's very sweet, but you need to save your money," Miss Waters said.

Uncle Mac gave Harry a long look. "Harry, I understand why you want to help, and while I know any of our families would be happy to help you if you need money, Miss Waters is correct. If we are going to transfer you to a boarding school, you will need your school allotment for that. However, if you want to give your care allotment for the last month to the shelter, then I can help you with that."

"Yes," Harry nodded firmly. Miss Waters and the others at the shelter had done so much for him and he wanted to help them.

"Very well Harry, consider it done," Uncle Mac said. Rachel and Mrs. Longbottom both smiled at him as well as Miss Waters ushered him out the door.

Chapter Text

Slowly, Alexander found his life being overrun by Harry Potter. He had thought that looking for the boy was time consuming, but introducing him to magic and slowly drawing him out of the muggle system was even more taxing. After the initial spurt of meetings with Harry's potential guardians and the rush of converting wizarding documents to their muggle counterparts, one might expect things to settle down.

Instead, Mac was helping Harry apply for an elite prep school, greasing a few wheels to get him admitted despite the fact that the year had started. Then thoroughly preparing his sons before taking Harry shopping in the Muggle world. Fortunately, almost everything they needed could be found in one place; Harrods was truly amazing. He had to arrange for a Muggle eye-healer for Harry, though thankfully the shelter had taken care of a general healer and the various records and inoculations he needed in the Muggle world.

Then Alexander had to hire a tutor, and find a mind healer who understood muggles — Healer Entwhistle was a treasure. Then it was arranging for the children to write to Harry, and checking all of their letters for things that would reveal the magical world prematurely. Calling and visiting Harry regularly was easy, especially as Rachel would often do the same. The Bells, as familiar with the Muggle world as they were, had been invaluable to Alexander to help him figure out the intricacies of the Muggle school system.

Alexander was meeting weekly with those he thought of as Harry's Muggle Team — the detectives assigned to his case and Harry's social worker, Miss Waters. He was also meeting weekly with the Magical Guardian Team — Gran Augusta, Andromeda Tonks, Rebecca, and Amelia Bones. Then there were the meetings with just Andromeda and Amelia, as they tried to work through the utter mess surrounding Sirius Black's incarceration and lack of trial. He even had several meetings with various goblins at Gringotts as he endeavored to straighten out Harry's finances and Sirius' will.

Then there were the plans Alexander was making for the future. Harry would need to visit St. Mungo's to get his magical inoculations. He would need to visit Diagon Alley the way he had Harrods to get basic wizarding supplies. One of the families would need to apply for guardianship of Harry in the Muggle world; once he met them all in person and knew the truth about magic, he would ask the opinion of both Harry and his Miss Waters as to his preferences and to who would have the best claim in Muggle courts.

They would need to plan for the summer holidays, finding a way to make sure that Harry was able to spend time with each of the families while not overwhelming him. And of course, everything Alexander did for Harry in the magical world had to fly under the radar of the Wizengamot. Even once Harry picked a magical guardian, his residence would need to remain Muggle — his school would be best — lest Dumbledore discover from the Hogwarts' attendance rolls that he had been located.

It was a fine web Alexander needed to weave to keep the balance between Muggle and Magical, legal yet hidden, and informative yet not overwhelming to young Harry.

It was a delicate business, and every other case he had was shunted off to the others in the office, but Alexander wouldn't have it any other way. Harry Potter had been found!

Harry looked around his room excitedly. It wasn't a full room; more like a partitioned off part of a large dorm, but it felt like a room. And it was far more than he had ever had at the Dursleys. Miss Waters and Nurse Joyce had helped Harry pour over the brochures for schools that Uncle Mac had sent, and they had all agreed with his choice of Bishops Stortford. It was just North of London, in Hertfordshire, and it took students from the age of seven into its Prep School. Uncle Mac said that it would be a fine school to introduce him to the kind of senior school his parents had gone to. Miss Waters and Nurse Joyce had said that there would be many children his own age, it would give him a place to live, and it was far away enough from Surry that his relatives were unlikely to ever find him, even if they did manage to stay out of jail.

Harry had fallen in love with the glossy pictures in the brochure; the aged brick buildings and the children smiling cheerfully at him. The others' approval only sealed the deal. And now, here he was!

He had taken the entrance exams, and because he had done so badly in school before now, he was behind a year. His Uncle Vernon would punish Harry if he got better grades than Dudley, and since Dudley was apparently allergic to studying or doing homework, that didn't give Harry a lot of wiggle room. There was no way he would be able to keep up with the Year 4 work, but with the tutor, who Uncle Mac had quickly hired, they hoped Harry would be able to catch up to the Year 3 work. If not, Harry would have to leave Bishop's Shortford, as Year 3 was the lowest year they went.

And, despite having been here for all of a day, Harry didn't want to leave. He had a school where people cared about him, and a room practically all to himself. While many of the rooms were trios, Harry only had to share it with one other boy; Aram Jones, who had introduced himself as Jonesy. Jonesy had been going to Bishops Stortford College for a year already, and was in Shell Year 4; the year above Harry. They were the two odd men out in their years, so they were paired together. Jonesy was excited to have a roommate again and promised to show Harry the ropes around the school.

But right now, Jonesy was with some friends, and with no classes on Sunday, Harry was alone in his new room. Harry just couldn't get over that! New room; new school; new life; new everything.

Even the clothes Harry was wearing were all new, which was a first for Harry. He had on his uniform grey trousers and socks, white button down shirt, and navy jumper, and the rest of his new clothes were tucked away in his half of the room. He also had new books and school supplies on his desk, and a few personal items (all new) on his bedside table.

A few months ago, Harry would never have believed that he would even own such things! But Uncle Mac had taken Harry shopping, with Cousin Rachel and his sons Ernie and Morgan. They had bought him piles of clothes – far more than he was allowed to bring to school – and promised to keep them at their house for the holidays. Harry had new glasses with a better prescription, a spare set, and two sets of sunglasses to match! He had comfortable sheets and blankets on his bed, with a few extra pillows and an extra warm down blanket tucked into the back of his wardrobe for the winter. A small dragon stuffed animal and a black dog stuffed animal he had picked out completed the look. Cousin Rachel had said that everyone should have a few stuffed animals, and those two had appealed to Harry; though he couldn't say why.

He even had a basket under his bed full of books to read for fun, most of which Cousin Rachel had picked out. He had his choice of Roald Dahl, Dr. Seuss, Buccaneers, Meg and Mog, Church Mice, Flambards, and the Guardians. There was another basket full of cassettes and a Walkman. Harry hadn't known how to answer when they asked him what kind of music he liked, since he had never been able to choose such things before, so they had gotten a little of everything. Cousin Rachel had promised that once he figured out what he liked she would get him more of the same and send it in a care package.

And the toys! Ernie and Morgan had dragged him up and down the toy section of Harrods! He had been given a football and a rugby ball; dozens of plastic figures he recognized from Dudley's cartoons like He-Man, Transformers, Star Wars, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; board games like battleship, connect four, cluedo, guess who, and ghost castle; an etch-a-sketch, play-dough, stickle bricks, lego, simon says, a light bright, and a dozen other things he couldn't remember the names of. Again, most of these couldn't be taken to school, but he had a few of the smaller ones in a basket under his bed.

Uncle Mac had assured Harry that he would be busy with his classes, but made him promise to spend a little time on fun things every day. As there were also books and games in Harry's school House and sport teams to play on, he didn't think he would have trouble keeping that promise.

Harry had now completely unpacked, been introduced to Jonesy, and was going to start his classes on Monday. Part of Harry wanted to pinch his inner elbow again to make sure that this really was happening to him, but his life had been turned upside down so many times in the last two months that he was almost starting to get used to the chaos!

Uncle Mac had also promised to return the next weekend, and to bring with him a doctor for Harry to talk to. This wasn't a body doctor like Doctor Abraham from the shelter, but a mind doctor. Miss Waters and Nurse Joyce had both agreed that Harry should talk to such a person, and made him promise to do his best. Harry didn't want to let either of them down; not after they had saved him from the Dursleys! Just as he didn't want to let Uncle Mac or Gran Augusta down! He would do his best at school!

Andromeda carefully sorted through the photos and documents she had from Sirius. After he had been placed in Azkaban, she had been allowed to gather only a few personal effects from his flat before the Ministry came in and confiscated the bulk of his possessions as "evidence." Usually such things eventually found their way into the Ministry's own coffers, but there was a chance that everything was still packed up in a box, deep in the subsections of the DMLE.

Still, Andromeda had succeeded in rescuing a few items, and these she now sorted through for Harry. Rebecca MacMillan had suggested putting together a few photo albums of the Potters for Harry, and Andromeda remembered gathering several frames from the walls, as well as an album or two.

She would need to duplicate them in such a way that they didn't move, and appeared to be Muggle photos, and she couldn't send any that had wands or magical objects or the like, but she was still sure there would be a few that were suitable to pass on.

And then, once Alexander determined that Harry was ready to be let in on the secret of Magic, she could pass on the rest.

Come to think of it, there were a few photos in her own collection that Andromeda could pull out. For one, she knew she had a few photos from Hogwarts that included her cousin and his gang. And Sirius had of course attended her wedding. There were also a few pictures of Lily and baby Harry with herself and Nymphadora, from the ceremony where Sirius and Alice were named godparents.

And, if Andromeda did end up taking young Harry in, then photos of her own family would not be out of place. Andromeda resolved herself to an afternoon of searching through photo albums.

Not that she minded, as she had nothing else to do today, and no potions to check on. In the month after the attack on the Potters, and the arrest of Sirius, Andromeda had prepared herself to take in young Harry. Sirius had discussed that with her when he was named the Godfather.

At the time, Andromeda had enjoyed the idea of having another child. She and Ted both wanted more children, and Nym had gone through her own 'sibling fever' phase as so many families she knew had babies. However, a curse from her sister Bellatrix had made it impossible for Andromeda to have another child of her own. Unlike the Muggle world, as Ted explained, adoption was quite rare among Wizards - orphans were just automatically given to the care of their godparents or closest relatives. And while she wouldn't mind adopting a Muggle child, they would essentially be a squib, rejected by the wizarding world she brought them into.

So, taking in Harry then would have been a blessing, rather than a burden. However, now many years had passed. Nym was already at Hogwarts, and Andromeda felt that her child-rearing years had passed her by. She would take Harry in, of course, if Alexander asked her to, but she would much prefer the role of fond Aunt. It would be better for Harry to go with Alexander or Augusta - someone who still had children at home Harry's age.

Either way, though, Andromeda was going to do her best to make Harry a part of her family, just as she had promised Sirius and Lily. Starting by picking out photos to share with him.

Harry quickly settled into his new routine at Bishop's Shortford. He had classes all morning and during the afternoon, followed by time to study. Luckily, the teachers had been informed that Harry had been out of school for the last four weeks, so they were very willing to help him catch up. In some classes, Harry was even further behind, having tuned them out in an effort to not get higher grades than Dudley. But between his teachers and the tutor that Uncle Mac had hired, Harry was doing his best to catch up on those classes too.

Now that he was being encouraged to pay attention and do well in his classes, Harry was starting to discover which ones he liked. Science was great, because it was very hands-on. Harry really enjoyed their experiments and labwork. Math was less fun, but as it tied into science, Harry was determined to do well in it. Geography was also exciting for Harry; they were currently working on a mapping project that involved them running all over the grounds.

History was interesting, just as it had been at his old school, and Harry had little trouble catching up there. He had always enjoyed learning about history; he now just had to get into the habit of actually doing the work that went along with that learning.

Art was another class that Harry found himself liking, again for the hands-on aspect. He had no artistic skill, but Harry still enjoyed trying his best in the class.

His other favorite classes were physical education, where he was currently learning dance and gymnastics, and the swimming lessons. Harry was still on the scrawny side, but as he ate regularly and was more active, he was growing stronger. The chance to get physically mobile was addictive to him. Drama class provided that too, as it often consisted of getting out of their seats and running around. He was also learning to play a bunch of different instruments in music, trying to catch up to the other students, and though the strings had so far not been his forte, they were supposed to start on the flute next, which Harry was looking forward to.

So far, the only classes that Harry wasn't as excited about were English and Religious Studies. The former just didn't grab his attention, while the latter reminded him a little too much of the Dursleys, who attended Church every Sunday. However, Harry had been informed that as a freak, was already destined for Hell, so Uncle Vernon saw no point in bringing him to Church as well. The teacher had assured Harry that they would move on to other religions as the year progressed, which Harry might enjoy studying more. And his tutor, Mister Andrews, had told Harry that it was perfectly acceptable not to enjoy every class. There would always be classes that students liked or disliked more than the others. The important thing was to continue to do his best. Harry tried to take his advice to heart.

As his first week of classes drew to a close, Harry considered the weekend. Uncle Mac and Rachel had called him every night, to check on how he was settling in, but now they were actually coming to visit him. On the one hand, Harry was looking forward to seeing them again, and he could proudly report to have started reading one of his new books during his free time. On the other hand, Harry knew that Uncle Mac was responsible for him being at this school and having a tutor. Harry needed to prove that supporting him hadn't been a mistake. He needed to prove that Uncle Mac had been right to search for him all these years, and to prove that he should continue to stand by Harry.

As wonderful as his life now was, Harry couldn't get rid of the fear in the back of his mind that it was all going to come crashing back down. And with Uncle Mac and Rachel bringing his new mind doctor with them, there seemed to be a lot of different ways for it to crash.

Once Harry had finished packing his duffel, he flopped down on his bed and looked back over his letters. Uncle Mac had visited or called every weekend, but the rest of his potential guardians had written letters instead. He got mail almost every day, now. Over November and December, Harry had exchanged frequent mail with Neville and his Gran; Cousin Tonks and her parents; the Macmillan Cousins Rachel, Anna, Evelyn, and their mother Aunt Rebecca; Ernie and Morgan; and Susan and her Aunt Amelia. Even Ernie and Morgan's little sisters would sometimes add crayon stick figures and such to the boys' letters.

After a few weeks, Harry no longer felt quite so surprised to get mail from people, but he still found himself wondering how they could possibly like him! True, the adults had all known his parents, and they had promised to take care of him, but they still seemed to actually like him, if their letters were any indication. Him! Harry had spent years listening to his Uncle Vernon bellow that no one cared for him, and Dudley had made sure that was true at school. But these people didn't seem to mind that he was a freak, or that he had lived in a cupboard and then a shelter, or that he had no family.

And the children were the same! Tonks, Anna, and Evelyn were all in senior school, so they didn't have a lot of time, but they still managed to write him at least every other week. They said that senior school was hard, and that some of the teachers were mean, but some were just brilliant. They were all looking forward to meeting Harry in person over the holidays. Rachel's sisters Anna and Evelyn wanted to show him a bunch of movies they promised he would love. Tonks even promised to show him the crazy color she had dyed her hair! Again, Harry found himself amazed that these older form girls had the time for him.

At least the younger kids weren't kept busy with formal classes, so their frequent letters made more sense. Neville talked about how he liked to garden, and how he knew how Harry felt, growing up without parents. Harry had spent his fair share of time working in his aunt's garden, so he began happily talking shop with Neville. Harry had met Ernie and Morgan while shopping, and they continued several conversations from that day. Ernie talked about studying for his tutors and asked Harry all about his school and what it was like to have classes with so many other children. While Morgan mostly talked about practicing sport and which team was doing well or poorly. Harry didn't follow any teams yet, though between Morgan and Jonesy he was getting a fast education.

Rachel asked which music Harry had ended up liking, and if he had read this or that book yet, and dozens of other questions about himself. Gran Longbottom, Aunt Rebecca, and Aunt Andromeda also asked Harry about himself, but told him stories about his parents when he asked. They had even sent him an album full of photos of his parents, which he looked through daily! Uncle Mac and Aunt Amelia mostly wrote him about how his legal cases were progressing, or what the bank had said, or what form he needed to fill out now, or the like. Though each of them did always include at least a few personal sentences in each letter.

And now, it was time for the Winter Hols, and Harry couldn't stay at the school where he had been so happy for the last few months. Now he was going to Neville's home for two weeks; though visits to and from the others had all been promised. Most of Harry was excited, but part of him was positive that his life couldn't keep going in this upward direction. Things had never gone this well in Harry's life before; never! Something had to make it all come crashing down, and he was fairly certain that that something was going to happen over the holiday.

He shuffled through his letters again. Uncle Mac was supposed to pick him up from school and take him out for a nice dinner with the Longbottoms before they took him home. His stomach was already churning in both anticipation and fear.

Neville couldn't believe how much his life had changed over the last year. Neville was considered a squib by most wizards and witches, even among his own family. He rarely had bursts of accidental magic, even when he was four and five, which was generally when children had their most wild magical outbursts. In fact, if Uncle Algie hadn't dropped him last year, making him bounce all the way down the drive, they would still be convinced that he had no magic at all. Despite that one outburst proving that he did at least have some magic, his older relatives were divided on whether he would have enough magic to get a Hogwarts letter.

Having no siblings, and just living with his Gran, Neville didn't often socialize with others his age. There were the obligatory holiday and summer balls, and the yearly get together with his closer cousins; the Macmillan clan, the Abbotts, and the Fawcetts, but that was it. Despite a few of them being his age, Neville had never really "clicked" with them. They certainly never exchanged owls or contact outside of the formal. Even his godbrother Harry Potter didn't want any contact with him – not that Neville blamed him.

Neville didn't even really have much contact with people of any age, outside of his family and a select group of healers at St. Mungo's, who he had met frequently over the years while visiting his parents. Most of Neville's tutoring was done by his own family, all of his Gran's generation. Uncle Algie – his Gran's brother – taught him about spells and charms, Aunt Helena Abbott – his grandfather's sister – taught him about herbology and creatures, and Gran taught him about history, politics, and society. He had learned a bit about potions and healing from talking to his parents' healers, but that was it. All in all, Neville had been very lonely for many years.

But a few months ago, everything had changed for him. A few months ago, his Gran had come home from a meeting with his Uncle Mac and she was shaking. As Missy rushed to prepare her tea, Gran had explained that Harry Potter had been found, living with Muggles. He knew nothing about the magical world, nevermind any of his family there. She was going to be gone often over the next few days as they sorted everything out.

Neville had spent most of that time in the garden, thinking. He had always assumed that Harry Potter knew about their relationship, but wanted nothing to do with Neville. Not that Neville blamed him for that; no one else seemed to want to spend time with him. Neville wouldn't want to spend time with himself, as pathetic as he was.

The idea that, rather than disliking or hating him, Harry Potter knew nothing about him, was revolutionary to Neville. And if he had been living with the Muggles, then Harry wouldn't know that Neville was probably a squib. Neville would have a chance to make a good impression before Harry found that out.

Thus decided, Neville launched himself into the project to bring Harry Potter into the wizarding world. When Uncle Mac said they should write letters to Harry, but that they couldn't contain anything magical, Neville went at it with gusto. At first he just introduced himself, and asked Harry about his own life. He didn't understand most of the references Harry made, and Uncle Mac could only explain some of them, but Neville persevered. He mentioned working in the garden and greenhouse – one thing Neville objectively knew that he wasn't horrible at – and Harry talked about his own experience gardening.

That opened a whole dialogue as they spoke of weeding, pruning, favorite plants, the smell of damp earth, and eating food you've just picked. Harry mentioned a history class, and though Neville's own history lessons were more wizarding-based, there were some things, if one went back to before the Statute of Secrecy was introduced, where the worlds overlapped. Neville was able to truthfully say that he had enjoyed studying about Merlin and King Arthur, and the ancient Celts and Egyptians. He just didn't have to mention that the "legends" Harry thought he was studying were actually real magicals.

When Harry mentioned a team that Morgan supported, and asked Neville his own preferences, Neville was truthfully able to say that he didn't really follow sport, so he would be as new to it as Harry was. He also said that his Gran didn't allow a telly in the house (once Uncle Mac explained what that was), so he didn't follow any shows. Harry seemed excited to see a movie with him, and once Neville learned what those were, he was eager for it too.

Harry also mentioned the others he was writing to, and though Neville had never met the Tonks family, he was able to fill in some blanks about the Macmillans. He was also acquainted with Susan Bones, as she was best friends with his cousin Hannah Abbott, and able to tell Harry that. Harry passed on what he learned of the others in return, and Neville found himself familiar with his peers on an informal level for the first time.

Finally, the day came when they would meet. It had been decided that, as big of a shock as magic was going to be for Harry, it might be better for him to spend the holidays in the quiet of Longbottom Hall, instead of the rambunctious chaos that the Macmillan clan would bring. They were going to go out to dinner tonight, and afterwards Uncle Mac and Gran would tell Harry about magic. Then he would come stay with Neville for the next three weeks.

Uncle Mac had taken Neville shopping for Muggle clothes, as it was expected that he would accompany Harry into the Muggle world sometimes now. Also, their first dinner with Harry would be at a Muggle restaurant. Many wizarding families had started wearing Muggle-style clothes at home, or under their robes, but Gran was more traditional than that. It took Neville a little while to get used to the clothes – they were so form-fitting compared to his robes! However, it was much easier to garden in them, which Neville greatly appreciated.

Neville fretted all afternoon, changing his selected outfit three times before dinner. Finally it was time to go, and he was dressed in his black trousers and a dark, mustard colored button-down shirt. He had picked out a matching golden tie, but was going to need Uncle Mac to tie it for him. His socks and shoes, at least, were familiar. Neville spent a little time on his hair, though Gran still sniffed disapprovingly when she saw him. Though, on second thought, that might have been because of his Muggle clothes. She did, much to Neville's surprise, know a spell to tie his tie, since Uncle Mac was going to meet them at the restaurant with Harry.

As he waited for Uncle Mac and Harry to arrive, Neville warred between excitement and terror. On the one hand, he was finally going to meet Harry in person. On the other hand, this was the moment that would change everything. What if Harry rejected him? What if Harry rejected magic and called them all crazy? What if he wanted nothing to do with them?

Despite his best efforts, over the weeks of letter writing, Neville had begun to hope that Harry would want to be his godbrother. Neville wasn't sure how he would cope if Harry rejected him.

Chapter Text

Midway through the desert course, Gran Longbottom put down her spoon and turned to look at Harry. Right then, he knew that this was the moment when everything good about the last few months imploded. Harry mentally began to prepare himself to go back to the shelter. It hadn't been so bad there, after all.

"Harry, we have something to tell you," Gran- Madam Longbottom said.

Harry tried to school his expression not to show his disappointment. He had expected this for weeks, after all.

Suddenly, Neville grabbed his hand, seeming to have seen through his mask. "It isn't that! We still want you!"

Harry was so shocked and relieved he forgot to keep his neutral expression up. "You do?" he whispered.

"Of course we do!" Uncle Mac agreed. "I'm sorry if you thought differently, son! That isn't what tonight is about at all!" Harry barely refrained from letting out a giant sigh of relief. "No," Uncle Mac continued, "we have something amazing to tell you."

"Harry—" Madam Longbottom began.

"You're a wizard!" Neville butted in, bursting with excitement.

Harry frowned. That was a very bad joke to make; Uncle Mac knew what his Uncle Vernon had said about Harry's freakish ways. If they were trying to tease him about that now… but Neville kept talking, eyes shining, completely oblivious to Harry's darkening mood.

"Your mum and dad were wizards too — well your mum was a witch, but that's the same thing, essentially. And so were mine, and they went to school at Hogwarts together. I don't know how the girls managed to write to you all these months without telling you that they go to a magic school! Uncle Mac had to read over everyone's letters to make sure we didn't slip. But I know Morgan was complaining that you thought he meant football instead of quidditch. We wanted to tell you as soon as we could, though, that magic is real. And you're a wizard, Harry!" Neville concluded, beaming.

Harry looked uncertainly between the two adults. Uncle Mac was also smiling cheerfully, while Madam— Gran Longbottom looked torn between smiling reassuringly and frowning at Neville. It came out something like a half-grimace. "Magic is real?" he repeated. "Can you show me?"

Neville's face fell slightly, but Uncle Mac quickly pulled a stick out of his pocket. "Ask for any object. Anything football sized or smaller," he said.

Harry thought for a moment, but his brain seemed to have stalled out. "Ummm... a football?"

Uncle Mac chuckled, then waved his stick — magic wand, probably. Suddenly, out of thin air, a football appeared on the table. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Make it a plant!" Neville begged.

Uncle Mac looked back at Harry and raised an eyebrow. "Er, a rosebush," Harry suggested. "One of the miniature kinds." He thought that was random enough to stump them if this was a pre-planned trick.

Another wave of the magic wand and the football became a potted miniature rose plant. The blossoms were a gorgeous yellow-pink mixture, and the pot was in his school colors; the same tartan as the girls' skirts.

"I know this sounds unbelievable, Son," Uncle Mac said, "but I promise it is not. Now, are you ready to visit Longbottom Manor?"

Harry wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway. They quickly left the restaurant and walked into a nearby alley.

"Now put your hand on this and…" Uncle Mac pulled a clean red sock from his pocket, which the Longbottoms immediately took hold of. As soon as Harry touched the sock, Uncle Mac tapped it with his wand, and Harry felt as though his body had been frozen. His hand was glued to the sock, but his stomach was churning, and everything was spinning until he closed his eyes.

They landed with a thud, and Harry sprawled onto his back on the floor. Still, though, he refused to open his eyes, afraid he might be sick. "It takes some getting used to!" Uncle Mac said reassuringly. "Not surprising you two ended up on the floor!"

Harry risked a peek from one eye and saw Neville on his hands and knees a few feet away. Oddly reassured by that, Harry risked opening his other eye. Uncle Mac was offering him a hand up, and Harry accepted it. A moment later, a small creature popped into the room. It had huge buggy eyes, green skin, and floppy pointed ears. Harry promptly fell back onto his butt.

"Welcome home Madam and Young Master," it said, accepting Gran Longbottom's coat and hat. "Welcome Madam's guests," it added, moving over to Uncle Mac and taking his things.

"That's Missy, one of the House elves," Neville said from beside Harry, offering him another hand up. "They're magical servants," he explained.

"Just like a butler or maid, but able to do magic," Uncle Mac agreed. "You'll find most of the older wizarding families have them, just as our non-magical counterparts have their own hired help. You have several at the various Potter properties, of course."

"I've got servants? How were they paid all these years?" Harry wondered. His aunt had often watched shows where rich people had butlers and maids; Harry sometimes took a peek while he did the cleaning.

"House Elves aren't paid in money," Uncle Mac assured him. "Though if they were, Gringotts — the Wizarding bank — would have taken care of them while you were with the muggles — non-magicals. House Elves are paid, for want of a better term, in the magic of the property and their wizarding family. It keeps them alive. While you were gone, your elves drew on the wards and other ambient magic to stay alive. They would occasionally pop into magically strong areas to 'top off' so to speak. Now that you know about magic, though, you can visit them and help them charge up to full strength."

"So they're like symbiotes?" Harry asked, having just learned about those and parasites in science class the week before. However, the other four didn't seem to know what the word meant. "I help them and they help me and everyone benefits?" he clarified.

Uncle Mac's face brightened. "Exactly! You might find that your elves haven't kept the properties quite as spotless as usual, with their diminished magic input, but just an hour exploring the place and you'll have them back to full strength. Then they'll have everything spotless again in a jiffy!"

As he contemplated that, Harry realized that he had completely forgotten to be scared or freaked out or convinced that this was an elaborate hoax and that magic was not real. For probably almost ten whole minutes! And that might mean that magic could actually be real. Harry found himself desperately hoping that this wasn't a hoax. Although, if it wasn't, his shrink would have a field day when he told her. If he could tell her.

"Can I talk about this with Doctor Entwhistle?" he asked.

"Of course," Uncle Mac assured him. "Doctor Entwhistle went to Hogwarts too. She's what we call a muggleborn; her parents were not magical, but she was. She studied both magical mind healing and muggle medicine, and inherited her parents' psychiatry practice when they retired. She knows all about magic. However, your friends from the shelter, Nurse Joyce and Miss Waters, do not know about magic. You are forbidden from telling them, or their memories will have to be erased. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded quickly. He had spent his whole life keeping secrets, like how the Dursleys treated him. He could keep this from everyone at the shelter. "Did the Dursleys know?" he asked quietly. "Is that why they called me a freak?"

Ever perceptive, Harry noticed Uncle Mac and Gran Longbottom exchanging a look. It was the kind of look adults got when they didn't want to answer a question, or wanted the children to leave the room. The look told him everything he needed to know, and he slumped down. "They did. They were right all along."

Uncle Mac knelt down beside Harry and put his hand on his shoulder. Harry was dimly aware of Gran Longbottom bustling Neville away. "The Dursleys were wrong, Harry. Yes, you were and are magical, and yes they knew that. But they were the freaks. There are plenty of magical children born every year to muggle parents, and they don't need to have the 'freakishness' beaten out of them. Not that you could. Your Aunt Petunia couldn't change that you and your mother were magical any more than she could change the fact that she wasn't. And it was that fact that probably spurred her cruelty towards you. Her own anger about her own lack of magic was the problem; not anything that you did."

To his shame, Harry felt tears gathering in his eyes. "Then why was I left with her?"

Uncle Mac sighed heavily. "Honestly, I'm not sure. And that is one of the things I've been trying to figure out for the last seven years. I think I have figured out the 'who,' but none of us, from Gran Augusta to Aunt Amelia can figure out the 'why.'"

Harry considered that for a long moment. "But it wasn't because they didn't want me?" They had said so in their letters, and Miss Waters and Officer Jennifer had told him that, but he had to be sure.

To his surprise, Uncle Mac hugged him. "Never think that we didn't want you. We have been looking for you for seven years, and we weren't going to stop until we found you. The Dursleys may have blocked us by refusing my mail and not getting you the proper parchmentwork so that I could legally track you, and the Hea— the wizard behind this might have put up magical barriers and legally blocked me in the wizarding courts, but I wouldn't have stopped."

"As your barrister, I work for you. As such, it was my duty to find you. By the laws of the wizarding world, I had fulfilled that duty by the January after you were orphaned. In the Muggle courts I was legally allowed to quit looking for you before your second birthday. I could have just stopped after that and gone about my business. So could have your other guardians. But we wouldn't do that."

"Gran Augusta knew you were supposed to be raised with Neville; she's asked me about you often. My sister-in-law Rebecca, Rachel's mother, has done the same. I was so pleased when I found out that muggles were developing databases on their computers — I thought maybe I could finally find you on one of those — surely a wizard wouldn't know to hide that information yet. And in fact, that is exactly what happened. Your police officer friend—"

"Officer Jennifer." Harry supplied.

"Yes. She and her partner put your parents' names out in a search, and it immediately tripped our search wards."

"It did?" Harry asked.

"It did." He could feel Uncle Mac nodding against the top of his head. "Your cousin Rachel was so excited she interrupted my morning tea to tell me. The last person to do that was fired!" he chuckled weakly. "I was so excited to find you that I didn't even reprimand her!"

"And not just because I'm rich?" It hurt, but Harry had to ask. Jonesy had said something, when Harry mentioned his old school, about being on scholarship. He had been surprised that Harry could afford Bishop's Shortford without one, since he had been at a county school before. Miss Waters and Officer Jennifer had also been shocked by how rich Harry was, when they didn't think he could hear them.

Uncle Mac's chuckle was much stronger than the one before. "Harry, I'm just as rich as you are. Aunt Amelia is the same. Gran Augusta could buy and sell all of us five times over. So could your godfather, if he were here. We don't need your money. But we loved your parents, and those of us who knew you as a baby loved you too."

At that, to Harry's great shame, the tears began to fall. Suddenly, another body slammed into theirs. "I've always wanted a brother," Neville's whisper was hot on Harry's neck. "Gran always told me it should have been you; but I thought you weren't around because the great Harry Potter wouldn't want to hang out with a squib like me," he confessed. "When Gran told me you were with the Muggles; that you didn't even know who we were, I was so relieved. Not because you were hurt, of course, but because it meant you didn't hate me."

Now there were tears on Harry's front and back, and Uncle Mac was squeezing both boys tightly together. Harry had no idea how to react, other than to keep crying, and squeeze back for all he was worth. Until a question occurred to him. "What's a squib?" he whispered.

Uncle Mac's laugh sounded just a little choked up this time. "A squib is someone born to magical parents but who can't do magic themselves," he explained. "Some children call Neville a squib, though he is not officially marked as one, because he has so rarely had bursts of accidental magic."

Harry sniffled. "I'd trade you any day, Neville," he said. "My uncle always beat me when I did something freakish. Maybe he would've left me alone if I was a squib."

Both sets of arms around Harry tightened. "I doubt that would have helped," Uncle Mac said. "Your uncle was the kind of man who took his aggression out on others. If you hadn't had magical outbursts, he would have found another reason."

That made perfect sense to Harry. "Like when I didn't clean properly or missed a weed or got better grades than Dudley? Or got hurt or dirty?"

Neville just about cut off Harry's circulation, he squeezed so tightly. "Yes, like those things, Harry," Uncle Mac said. "So you can see, your being magic had nothing to do with it. And I doubt you were the only one on whom he took out his anger. Perhaps a secretary or other underling at work. He couldn't beat them, but I'm sure he was a verbal bully."

Harry nodded. His uncle had shared stories with Dudley about 'putting others in their place' at work, to encourage him in abusing Harry. "And teachers," he added, thinking of his first teacher, who had been concerned about how small Harry was. Uncle Vernon had exploded at the parent conference about how it wasn't his fault that the Potters' had inferior genetics to the Dursleys, and how she had better look to her own expanding waistline, rather than Dudley's. She'd gotten the shakes every time she looked at Dudley for the rest of the year.

"Now, I think that's enough of that topic for tonight," Uncle Mac said after a long moment. "Neville, why don't you show Harry to his room? Maybe a tour of the Manor?"

Neville nodded fiercely, finally releasing Harry only to firmly grab his hand. "You'll love the gallery!" he declared. "There are generations of Longbottoms there!"

Before he knew what was happening, Harry was being dragged off down a hallway, with Uncle Mac's soft chuckle following him. But despite the drying tears on his face and the back of his neck, Harry felt better than he could ever remember feeling.

Just when Harry's life had fallen into a routine, something changed again. Classes finished for the year, and Harry was off to spend the entire summer in the wizarding world. He had promised Jonesy and some of the others that he would write, but Harry had no idea what to write to them about. He couldn't very well mention house elves and magic wands and flying broomsticks!

Still, the fact that they liked him enough to want to exchange letters pleased Harry, just as the continued letters he got from his many "cousins" did. After meeting everyone in person at Christmas, and discovering that Tonks hadn't dyed but in fact could magically change her hair color from minute to minute, their letters had gotten much more detailed.

Now that Harry was "in" on the secret of magic, the others didn't have to hide it from him, as long as he didn't share his letters with anyone at school. Since he had never done so before, no one noticed a change. Tonks and Anna were in Year four at Hogwarts, while Evelyn was in year three. They told him all about their magical classes in charms, astronomy, and transfiguration. Anna played quidditch, and she and Morgan showered him with information about the sport, promising that he would love it. From the brief amount of flying he had been able to do over the Winter holidays, he wouldn't take much convincing.

Ernie was finally able to reveal that his family had spent years bridging the gap between the magical and muggle worlds. It was something that his so many times great grandfather had realized with Harry's so many times great grandfather. The Macmillans had taken on the legal side of the battle, while the Potters had fronted the political side of things.

Most wizards were criminally ignorant of the muggle world, and muggleborns struggled to fit in with their wizarding peers due to a similar lack of knowledge. Plus, whenever a wizarding family had a squib, that child was banished to the muggle world, but they couldn't just appear out of nowhere. The Macmillans and Potters worked together to fix those problems by being the bridge between the two worlds. This seemed only logical to Harry, and also explained why Uncle Mac and his family seemed to know so much about the muggle world, while the Longbottoms and Boneses didn't have much of a clue.

The holidays had been full of moments when he and Neville had to explain one thing or another that the other was totally clueless about. It had been fun, and both had learned a lot, but Harry was beginning to worry about the state of the wizarding education system that something as basic as the telly or an auto completely baffled them. Uncle Mac had explained that wizards simply isolated themselves from the muggle world and didn't bother to learn anything about it.

Harry thought that was a bit dense, but he didn't want to insult his newfound family. Fortunately, Uncle Mac had read it in his expression and just laughed. "And that's why the Macmillans and Potters act as the go betweens!" he explained. "Because we realize just how silly the others are being!"

That had been during the winter holiday, and Harry had taken his words to heart. Just as the others were all educating him about the wizarding world, Harry endeavored to educate them about the muggle world at the same time. He introduced Morgan and Anna to football magazines, and intended to introduce all of them to a telly this summer. He had usually only been able to listen through the door of his cupboard, but even Harry knew how wonderful of an invention it was.

Another thing that Harry had to get used to was someone caring about his grades. He had been warned before he started at Bishop's Shortford that he had to do well to stay, but he hadn't really realized what that would mean. With the Dursleys, Harry had been forbidden from doing better than Dudley at school. The first time he had brought home a report card, he had received a beating while Vernon shouted that he must have cheated. The message was clear.

Since Dudley never paid attention in class, and forced other students to write his reports for him, it was almost impossible for Harry to put in any effort without showing up his whale of a cousin. Instead, he had all but given up; doing just the bare minimum so as to not be held back a year. It was a fine line to walk, but he had managed it.

Now, he was expected to pay attention in class, to raise his hand, and to contribute to discussions. He had homework and research to do, and study periods when he was able to work in the library.

When the winter hols had started, Harry was still struggling, but his tutor Mister Andrews didn't give up on him. He helped Harry to learn good study habits, like how to organize his notes and how to structure essays. He learned about the library's catalogue system and methods of studying for tests. And soon Harry's grades began to improve. Now, instead of being at the bottom of the class, he was approaching the middle of the pack. For Harry it was hard to unlearn his old protective habits, but it was a joy to actually learn things! By Easter Hols, he was proudly catching up to the top quarter of the students. When Uncle Mac got that report, he called Harry a "true Ravenclaw!" Tonks had to explain that one to him later.

Now, with his final grades for the year announced, Harry knew that he had done the best he could. He might not be in the top ten percent, but he was close. And he fully intended to hit that mark next year. Of course, his summer promised to be busy, especially with learning about magic, but Harry still intended to study ahead a bit when he could. Harry enjoyed the smiles of his teachers, the encouragement of his tutor, and the praise of his new family when he got good grades!

With grades announced, most of the other students had already left, but Harry had to wait. Miss Waters was going to pick him up from school and take him in for a meeting before he went home. Apparently there had been social worker visits to both the Longbottom and Macmillan houses, though Harry had no idea how they had hid the presence of magic during those. Harry had a meeting with the officers in his case before he could go live with them for the next two months.

Harry had been worried about that, but Uncle Mac had been very reassuring. The home visits had gone well, he promised, and the courts had approved Harry's passport so that he could go on the planned summer trips. His contact with his newfound cousins and their plans were also a point in the Macmillans favor, and all the meetings with Miss Waters had gone quite well. There should be no reason for them to keep Harry at the shelter instead of allowing him to go home with Neville and Gran tonight. The fact that Harry had been allowed to spend all of the winter and Easter holidays with them was proof of Uncle Mac's statement.

Still, Harry couldn't help but worry. When he had first heard that he was going to be meeting these strange people who claimed to be his family, he had been reassured that he could always run away and return to the shelter where he had been so welcomed. But now that he had actually met Uncle Mac and Neville and Tonks — now that he knew about magic — he dreaded being ripped from their world and sent back to the shelter. He would never go back to the Dursleys — their upcoming trial assured that, Uncle Mac said — but to go back to being just another abused orphan instead of living with his cousins was unthinkable.

His mind doctor said that his fears were perfectly understandable, and that it was certainly her recommendation that he stay with either the Longbottoms or the Macmillans, but that worrying about it would do no good. The decision would be made, and nothing Harry could do would change it. He just needed to be honest with the judge (except about magic) and everything would work out.

Harry wanted to believe her, but as the clock at his bedside ticked away and Miss Waters still hadn't appeared, he couldn't help the "what if"s that plagued his mind or the knot that formed in his stomach.

"Welcome home Bro!" Neville declared as Harry landed on the carpet with an oomph. He had still not gotten the hang of the stomach-churning portkey travel, though he was no longer quite so nauseous upon arrival.

"Hey bro," Harry replied with a grin. "We're official!" After talking with Uncle Mac, the Dursley's solicitor, and Harry, the judge had decided to place him with his godbrother, Neville, and Gran. Uncle Mac had assured Harry that he was still welcome at their home anytime, though, and if he thought he was wiggling out of seeing a game with Morgan by choosing the Longbottoms he was dead wrong. Even the Dursley's solicitor had laughed at that joke.

The only negative point at the hearing came when Officer Jennifer explained about talking to the Dursleys' neighbor Ms. Figg to get the information about his grandfather. For some reason, Uncle Mac's face had become cloudy then, though he quickly wiped the expression away. Harry wondered about it, but eventually decided that it could keep for a few days. Maybe he'd be happier once Harry told him that Ms. Figg had been relatively nice to him when he was left with her, cabbage-smell and cat-obsession notwithstanding. Harry was certainly glad that she had remembered the name of his grandfather, or Uncle Mac might not have found him!

Still, Harry resolved not to let it bother him tonight. Tonight he moved in with his godbrother and Gran! Tonight he officially, legally, gained a family in the muggle world! That they were already his legal family in the magical world was just the icing on the cake!

When you added in trips to the ancestral Black Family Chateau in France, the Macmillan summer cottage in Scotland, and the Potter vacation house in Greece, the latter of which included a few football matches and something called the Quidditch World Cup, Harry felt like he was floating, his current position on the floor notwithstanding.

Neville's grin matched Harry's own for size as he offered him a hand up. Together they bounded towards their rooms (side-by-side, despite the size of the manor) and a late night of chatting before their summer adventure started the next day.

Chapter Text

Tonks found herself, for the first time, a little melancholy on the train back to Hogwarts. As much as she enjoyed school, and was excited to see her friends again, and get away from her mother's insistent labeling of her as Nymphadora, this time Tonks wasn't as happy as usual.

This summer, Tonks had spent huge chunks of time with young Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, both in the company of her parents and of other families. Tonks had only been a child when her Uncle Sirius was locked up, but she had several memories of him. She had never understood, after seeing him with the Potters, how he could betray that family. But once Sirius was gone, Tonks had understood that Harry Potter might come live with her family. She had been ecstatic at the idea of getting a little brother; she had wanted one for years. It wasn't until many years later that her mother explained why she would not be getting one the old fashioned way.

But for some reason that none of the Tonks' understood, Harry Potter never came.

It wasn't until Hogwarts, and her second year, really, that Tonks was able to take someone younger under her wing. Such things were especially encouraged in Hufflepuff, and there was always some lonely firstie without an older sibling who would appreciate having a pseudo-sister in her. It wasn't as good as having a sibling of her own, but it was something.

Then, Tonks had learned, Harry Potter had been found, and, though he would still not be living with the Tonks family, she would finally have a chance to be his big sister. She wrote him letters initially, with subtle questions to her muggleborn friends to help her hide the magic in them at first. Finally, it was the winter hols, and she was able to meet him in person. Harry was shyer than she had imagined, even after the letters. For some reason she had always pictured him as some kind of combination of her Uncle Sirius and Uncle James. They were always loud, the center of attention, and Tonks always assumed Harry would behave the same.

Instead, he shied away from attention, skulking around the walls of the rooms with Neville Longbottom. That would never do, in Tonks' mind, and she immediately made it her mission to un-wallflower both boys.

It took hard work over the hols, and a few months of letter writing (to both boys) but by summer, she had them right where she wanted them. Despite never having had any contact with Neville before, Tonks found it incredibly easy to connect with him, and he withstood both her mothering and her teasing with good grace. They even spent entire letters not once mentioning Harry, as their relationship blossomed in its own way.

Then came the summer, and Harry blasted back into Tonks' life. He was better now, according to her mother, though it would take a while for him to be completely healed. Tonks wasn't positive what that meant, though she had enough hints from things Harry said and overhearing the adults to guess. Still, he was less of a wallflower, and more willing to joke with her, and as the summer progressed they grew even closer.

From hours lounging around the pool, to days spent exploring abandoned Potter properties, to teaching both boys to fly, going shopping, eating out… Tonks spent weeks with Harry and Neville.

By the end of the summer, she considered both of them her little brothers, more so than anyone in Hufflepuff she had previously mentored. And to her great delight, both boys felt the same about her. Their family might be a little unconventional, but for a metamorphmagus, that was nothing new. All Tonks did know was that this had been the best summer of her life, and for once, Hogwarts could not compare.

Returning to school at the end of summer; Harry felt better than he ever had. There had been a few less-than-perfect moments; like when he discovered that Mrs. Figg had known the truth about magic his whole life and had lied to him, or when he spoke to a snake in Neville's greenhouse and scared the daylights out of Susan and Ernie. Neville had said that being a parseltongue wasn't a sign of an evil wizard, but Ernie had insisted that it was, and Harry was a bit torn on who to believe. Especially when Susan and her friend Hannah seemed to agree with Ernie. Uncle Mac, however, had confirmed that there were plenty of examples of wizards who could talk to snakes who weren't evil, especially several noted healers. That made Harry feel slightly better, but he still resolved to keep that particular ability under wraps as much as possible.

But other than those minor blips, the summer had been fun, filled with both muggle and magical adventures. But most importantly of all, Harry had had those adventures with those he now considered family. Whether it was hanging out in the Longbottom greenhouses and gardens, or swimming in the Macmillans' pool, or exploring his own ancestral estate, his family was always by his side. He even got to introduce them to the wonder that was a muggle theme park, and it was as amazing as Dudley had always made it sound! Of course, part of the fun was the gobsmacked looks of the muggle-ignorant wizards as they saw their first roller coaster, but part of it was the chance for Harry to do the same thing he had heard and seen other muggle children do. He was able to just have fun with his family and friends.

Now, though, it was time for Harry to return to his school and go back to being a normal muggle boy for most of the time. As fun as his summer had been, it had also been overwhelming, and part of Harry was looking forward to the peace and quiet of school. He had done a bit of studying ahead, so felt prepared for his classes, and he had exchanged letters and a few phone calls over the summer with Jonesy and his other friends.

He was looking forward to sharing what he could about his summer with them and hearing their own adventures.

The most thought-provoking thing, of course, was one he couldn't share. He had been introduced to the Bells — friends of Uncle Mac and his parents. Mrs. Bell was a muggleborn, while Mr. Bell was a halfblood from an old wizarding family. Both of them had struggled with prejudices against them because of their muggle parents, and with integrating their childhood into their magical adult life. Thus, with the help of Uncle Mac's father and Harry's grandfather, they had started a school for muggleborns. They were often discriminated against when they graduated from Hogwarts; something he had been told that even his mother faced. Many muggleborns decided to return to the muggle world because of that. However, they were seven years behind in their studies. So the Bells' taught them a quick catch-up course of the basic things they needed to know to pass their muggle A-levels.

They had been running the school for almost fifteen years now, and were quite successful. There was something of an underground muggleborn community outside of the wizarding world, whose main points of contact were the Bells, Macmillans, and in the past, the Potters. It amazed Harry in its scope. The only thing he questioned was the fact that there was nothing for muggleborns before they started at Hogwarts. Just thinking about all the things Harry had learned since he had been told that magic was real blew him away. And there were so many little things that his cousins and godbrother took for granted. It wasn't until three weeks into his summer, when he ran out of toothpaste, that he learned that there were a whole family of spells called hygiene spells. This included everything from cleaning charms to a charm that brushed his teeth! Harry had been amazed at seeing the toothbrush foam all by itself, while the wizards had been amazed that muggles even brushed their teeth. Apparently they had no idea how it could be done without a spelled toothbrush. And his box of floss absolutely baffled them!

It was those kinds of things, Harry pointed out to the Bells, that incoming Muggleborns should know. The kind of things that wizarding children took for granted so that no one would think to tell a muggleborn about it, because they didn't even think about it. Why couldn't they have a prep school, like the one Harry currently went to, which prepped muggleborns for Hogwarts while still finishing up their regular schooling?

The Bells had been intrigued, and Amy Bell admitted that she had had similar thoughts in the past. However, there was no way for them to get the list of incoming muggleborns from Hogwarts until they had started at the school. It was far easier to trace the graduates, as they were well known in the community by then. It would take someone of high standing in the government to change that.

Harry had left, pondering her words. From what he gathered from the others; James Potter would have been that person, had his parents lived. The Macmillans were well respected by the purebloods because they dealt with the muggle things that the bigoted elite wouldn't be caught dead understanding. As the main line was free of muggleborn spouses, they were still considered acceptable purebloods, though they couldn't be allowed to have any real political influence. They were seen as a neutral family, however, and the one that all purebloods went to when they needed to deal with a squib or something related to the muggle world.

As a halfblood and a muggleborn, in an old but not elite family, the Bells had no standing amongst the old pureblood set. The Potters, however, were one of the oldest British wizarding families, from what Gran Longbottom had told him. Though they married half-bloods somewhat frequently and muggleborns occasionally, they were still powerful and influential. The influence of past Potters was directly responsible for Uncle Mac's law firm and the Bells' school.

Harry knew he had a huge legacy to live up to, and he was so thankful for Uncle Mac, Gran, Aunt Amelia, and the others for preparing him for it. Harry could only imagine if he started Hogwarts as ignorant as any muggleborn. Why, who knows what faux pas he would make just because he didn't know any better! Even now he made mistakes often, but thankfully his cousins didn't mind and gently corrected him. Rachel had assured Harry that he would be ready by the time he started Hogwarts, and he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

Fortunately, Uncle Mac and the others had indeed found him, and Harry was determined not to let them down. Nor all of the Potters who had come before himself. He was going to live up to the family name. He was going to start a school for muggleborns before they went to Hogwarts, and he was going to fight for their rights after they graduated. He wasn't sure how he was going to do those things just yet, but as a Potter, Harry knew that he had to try.

As Harry waved out the train window, on his way back to his muggle school, Neville thought that this must be how younger siblings felt when they watched the others go to Hogwarts. Neville's status as the older by one day notwithstanding, Neville found himself on the platform while Harry disappeared off to school without him. He had lived most of his life without Harry, but after just one short summer, Neville couldn't imagine his life without his Godbrother.

What would he do now with his days, without Harry to talk to? Without questions about magic to answer, and questions about muggles to ask, and different Potter properties to explore? Neville had spent more time with other wizards and witches this summer than the entire rest of his life!

And Neville had, much to his own surprise, made friends beyond Harry. Hannah Abbott and the Macmillan children had gone from people that he nodded at across a ballroom once a year to people he actually considered friends. Why, Tonks had even adopted him alongside Harry, declaring them both her honorary younger brothers! With her off to Hogwarts again, Neville would really be alone!

Now, Neville was going to be on his own again for almost four whole months until Harry came home for his winter hols. He would write, of course, but that wouldn't be the same as living together. Letters couldn't stay up late with you at night, or help in your greenhouse, or talk you into climbing a tree, or tell you about the strange things muggles did to cope without magic, or any of those things that the real Harry had done with Neville this summer.

Though he had spent eight years as an only child, Neville was finding that just three short months had completely changed him. Neville didn't want to go back to his old, lonely life.

Chapter Text

Harry calmly strode down Diagon Alley with Neville, Susan, and Gran. Aunt Amelia had to work, so Gran had volunteered to take all three to get their school supplies. The letters had come in last week, and finally, at long last, they were starting at Hogwarts!

Fortunately, Gran had officially adopted Harry in the muggle world the year before, so they didn't have to worry about any social workers inspecting his new school. Harry had no idea how Uncle Mac would have handled that. But that was a worry off of his mind, and today was for shopping!

While not as excited about that topic as one of the girls, Harry was very excited to be getting his first real wizarding school supplies. And he was finally getting his wand! He was finally going to be able to do magic of his own! This was the moment Harry had dreamed about almost since the first day he had learned that magic was real.

Of course, Olivander's was going to be their last stop, in a move Harry felt was done deliberately to see if he would crack. But Gran was right in that getting trunks first was more practical, as they would have some place to put the rest of their supplies. Although, knowing that the House Elves were just going to whisk everything away anyway made Harry wonder if that consideration was entirely necessary.

Soon all three were outfitted with nice trunks; a little above the standard ones, with a second locking compartment for private Family matters. As the heads or soon-to-be-heads of their families, all three were likely to have to deal with official family business while at school.

After trunks came the robes. Harry already had a few casual robes, but his recent growth spurt had rendered them far too short. Neville was in a similar situation, and all three needed their school robes. Again, Harry was ready to take the standard robes when Gran corrected him. As the Head of House Potter, she explained, he had an image to maintain. Thus, Harry got fitted robes in silk. Neville and Susan got the same, and soon the trio was ready for their next stop.

Flourish and Blotts was fun for all three, as they picked up their basic texts as well as several other books according to their interests. Neville got several Herbology texts, as well as a book about using plants in potions. Harry got a few potions texts, having enjoyed those lessons with his Aunt Andromeda, and also an introductory guide to runes. He had discovered runes on a trip to Denmark the summer before, and found them fascinating. Harry was quite disappointed that he couldn't take the Runes class until his third year.

Susan had found some defense and charms texts to her liking, as well as a book about recent history. Tonks had warned them that the Hogwarts history class was a joke, and if they wanted to pass that OWL they would need to self study. After a little thought, Harry got some history and political texts as well. After all, if he intended to live up to the family name, he really should pay attention to what the Potter family had done, and the current political situation. He already had several history texts, as it was one of his favorite subjects, but he found a few interesting titles that he didn't already own.

Their next stop was Scrivenshafts, where all three picked up parchment, ink, and quills. Harry had also turned the others on to the brilliance of pens and notebooks, which they had gotten at Harrods the day before. While their homework assignments had to be on parchment, there was no such rule about their notes and drafts.

Next was the apothecary for their potions supplies, and several other shops for odds and ends. Finally, there were only two stops left. As the others waited, Harry ducked into the Owl Emporium. He had gotten used to writing letters to his family over the last few years, and he wanted to get his own owl so that he could continue to do so at Hogwarts. He was also determined to get an owl for Neville as an early birthday present. He knew that Neville had a pet toad, and that he was allowed to bring Trevor to Hogwarts, but Ernie had already teased Neville about that. Apparently no one brought toads to Hogwarts anymore. Harry didn't want anyone to tease his godbrother, and intended to nip that in the bud by providing Neville a much more elegant and functional pet.

To the others' surprise, he walked out of the shop with two owl cages and two bags full of supplies. Keeping the snowy white owl for himself, Harry handed the majestic Barn Owl over to Neville. "Happy Birthday," he declared as Neville stuttered out his thanks. Susan, who already had a cat, cooed and petted both birds while Gran looked at Harry approvingly.

Harry basked in the results of his brainstorm for a moment before reorienting his priorities. He was finally going to get his wand! Once a House Elf had taken the owls back to the manor, the quartet made their way to Ollivander's. Susan, smirking at Harry, quickly declared "ladies first," once they were inside, and stepped up to Mister Ollivander.

Fortunately for Harry, the search for her wand only took twenty minutes. Almost an hour later, Harry was beginning to despair that he would never find a wand of his own. Finally, Mister Ollivander returned with a dusty box and a small frown on his face. Without being told, Harry took the wand, but this time, unlike the last hundred times, the wand felt warm in his hands. As he lifted it, red and gold sparks shot from the end.

"Curious," Mister Ollivander said, before proceeding to explain that Harry now held the brother wand to Voldemort's own. Creeped out, but still excited, Harry turned expectantly to Neville.

Instead of stepping forward to be measured, however, Neville turned pink and refused to meet Harry's eye. "Neville already has a wand," Gran said.

"Oh!" Harry couldn't believe that they'd gone wand shopping without him. It had to have been while he was at school, as Neville hadn't had one before. "Let's see it then!"

Neville's blush deepened, but he pulled a rather worn wand out of his pocket.

"That looks old!" Harry burst out. "How long have you had that?" He was sure Neville wouldn't have lied to him about not having a wand all those times they had talked in the past.

"It isn't mine," Neville mumbled.

"It was his father's," Gran said tightly. "Neville has chosen to honor his father by using his wand."

Harry's annoyance that Neville already had a wand vanished. Clearly, this was important to Neville, so Harry wanted to be sportive. "Well, let's see what color sparks it makes!" he said. Susan's had been silver and pink, and Harry was eager to see what colors Neville had.

Hesitantly, Neville gave the wand a modest wave, but nothing happened. Just then, Mister Ollivander returned with Harry's receipt. "No no, that will never do!" He said, snatching the wand from Neville's hand. "This wand is in no way suited to you, my boy. Here, try this one!" He almost instantly had another wand in Neville's hand.

Gran was beginning to look furious, but Mister Ollivander continued to prattle. "The wand chooses the wizard, you know; not the other way around. This wand certainly hasn't chosen you, young man. I dare say you'd struggle to do anything with it fighting you like that. No, something in a fruiting wood; a cherry or apple," he mumbled, shuffling through boxes.

Harry snuck a glance at Gran, to see that she had bitten back the tirade he had been sure was coming. Soon, Neville had his own wand, Cherry and Unicorn Tail, which had showered green sparks all over the room, and his father's Birch and dragon heartstring "horrible match, birch," Ollivander had muttered, was tucked into Gran's purse. She quickly ushered the children from the shop, shooting disparaging looks at Ollivander the entire time. As they popped back to Longbottom manor, the trio decided to make themselves scarce for the afternoon until her temper cooled.

The day after his birthday, Harry was surprised in the library by a visit from Uncle Mac and Aunt Amelia. Before they could speak, however, the fireplace flared to life and Aunt Andromeda rushed out.

"Have you told him yet?" she asked.

"We were just about to," Aunt Amelia said.

"Sit down, Harry," Uncle Mac said. "This is going to take a little while." Harry did as instructed, his stomach churning. "You know, of course, that when we discovered that you were with the Muggles, I had to make Muggle paperwork to explain your guardianship options, yes?"

Harry recalled several conversations with Miss Waters along those lines. "You mean how Gran would take me in instead of Aunt Alice?"

"Yes, exactly. Because I had to come up with the Muggle equivalent of the Wizarding papers, I had to do a little digging." Uncle Mac shifted in his seat. "Your Muggle judge asked for your godfather's trial transcripts, and I realized that I didn't have a copy of them in your file. I began to search at the Ministry, but they didn't have copies, either."

"Is that unusual?" Harry asked. Though he had learned a lot about the Wizarding world, there was still a lot about the Ministerial side of things that he didn't understand.

"Very unusual," Aunt Amelia said. "Especially for me. As the head of the DMLE I should have unrestricted access to any criminal's file and any trial transcript. I couldn't get ahold of either for your Godfather. I looked into a few other random trials from the time, to test the system, and I had no problems."

"So something was wrong with my Godfather's files?" Harry asked.

"We've been looking into that ever since we discovered the first discrepancies," Uncle Mac said. "Unfortunately, we've encountered stonewalling at every level of our quest. Someone very high up in the Ministry food chain doesn't want us to know the truth about your Godfather."

"The truth?" Harry's jaw dropped. "What truth?"

"Since we were being stonewalled at the Ministry, I used my connections," Aunt Amelia picked up the tale. "I spoke to a few Aurors I knew who just happened to be scheduled at Azkaban prison. When a grieving family member visited a low-security prisoner, they would look the other way if that person happened to be escorted to a different cell."

Harry was no slouch. "You took Aunt Andromeda to visit Sirius Black?"

"I spoke to him," Aunt Andromeda agreed. "And he was shockingly lucid. He said he didn't kill your parents, or Peter Pettigrew and the Muggles."

"And you believe him?" Harry wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, he had often dreamed about having a family, and despite the way that the Macmillans and others had made him feel welcome, they weren't his family. His real family — the people his parents had wanted to take care of him — were all dead, insane, or locked up. Since finding out about the Wizarding world, Harry had had occasional, fleeting dreams about Sirius being exonerated or Aunt Alice waking up and taking care of him. To have them now suggest that one of those things could actually happen… Harry didn't know what to think.

"He took Veritaserum — truth serum" Andromeda said. "In front of Amelia. He swore that your parents switched to Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper. Sirius was supposed to be the decoy. He said that Pettigrew killed the Muggles and changed into his animagus — animal — form."

"And you believe him?" Harry repeated.

"We do," Aunt Amelia said. "He gave us very specific details, and it was all while under truth serum. We have to believe him. We think whoever has been blocking our search for his files knows that Sirius is innocent. For some reason this witch or wizard wants to keep Sirius in jail."

"You have to get him out!" Harry shouted. "Susan said that place sucks the happiness from you! He's suffering there! He could be here with me!" Andromeda grabbed him in a hug as Harry began to sob into her shoulder.

"We're doing everything we can," Aunt Amelia assured him. "It took us two years to get in to see Sirius, but we've not been idle since then. This past year we've been working on getting around this blockade in the Wizengamot."

"Unfortunately," Uncle Mac took over, "since Andromeda was disowned by her and Sirius's grandfather Arcturus, she has no legal standing to look into his case on behalf of the Black family. We need a Black family member in good standing to make the claim. That leaves Bellatrix Lestrange—"

"Who we can't approach for obvious reasons," Aunt Amelia interjected.

"Narcissa Malfoy, whose husband is one of the ones stonewalling us in the Ministry;" Uncle Mac continued, "Draco Malfoy her son, who has no reason to help us either; Neville; and you, Harry.

"Me?" Harry managed to ask through his sniffles. "Neville?"

"Your grandmother Potter, Dorea, was a Black." Uncle Mac explained. "Neville's great-grandmother Callista Longbottom was also born a Black. Sirius' father Orion was Dorea's cousin, and Callista was their aunt. Actually, Sirius' mother, Walburga, was Dorea's sister as well. This makes you and Neville just as much a Black as Draco is."

"Now that you have both turned eleven, you are eligible to take up your position as heirs of the Black family. Your claim is stronger because Sirius actually named you as his heir in his will. As he is the presumptive Lord Black now, that makes you the primary heir. However, Neville's position will help to support yours. Now that you are eleven, you have the power to make claims on the Lord Black's behalf, provided he does not object."

"So we would claim to be the Black heirs and then what?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly, Harry." Aunt Amelia said. "You don't claim to be a Black, as in deceit. You claim your place in the Black family, as in, stake your claim. Then you will have the political capital to demand an inquiry into Sirius's case. You couldn't do that until you were eleven, but we have been preparing for your birthday for most of the past year. We have all of the parchmentwork composed and ready for you. It will be a tight squeeze to get it all done before you two start at Hogwarts, but we had to wait until after your birthdays."

"So I can get him back?" Harry asked. "I can have my godfather?" He was still finding this hard to believe, but at the same time he desperately wanted it to be true. Harry would fight any battle he had to to get back one of his original family members.

If she was the kind of person to do so, Amelia would have been rubbing her hands in glee. Amelia had always lived her life with a sense of honor, of following the rules. It was what drove her into law enforcement in the first place. Amelia had loved being an Auror, and she was one half of the best field team in her year. The best auror teams were always siblings or couples, and those few who didn't start that way usually ended that way. The proof was there, if one looked at each class of cadets. She and Fabian had easily topped their year, and their engagement after the academy came as a surprise to no one. Two years later it was the twins Marlene and Marcus McKinnon who bested their classmates, and two years later the couple Alice and Frank Longbottom had done the same. Then Sirius Black and James Potter the next year, as close as brothers, despite only being cousins.

And then, in two horrible years of battle, they had each been taken. The McKinnons were ambushed at their parents' house, Fabian taken from her, along with their unborn child and his twin Gideon, when their flat was razed. Alice, Frank, and James all attacked in their own homes and Sirius thrown in jail. There were others, of course. The aurors and other figureheads of the Light were decimated by Voldemort. Benjy Fenwick and his partner Mandy Thistletoft, Dorcas Meadowes and her family, Charlus and Dorea Potter, Earl Longbottom, Auggie MacMillan, the Bell sisters — Kat and Kara…

The list went on, until finally it ended, for Amelia at least, with her brother Edgar, his wife Emmaline, and two of their children. Eddy, at six, was quite the terror, and little Lanie had just celebrated her second month. Susan, at almost two, had caught Dragon Pox while playing with her Abbott cousins, and had been forced to remain with them, as the Pox was fatal to those under one year old. Amelia and Edgar's mother, Marrian, had been spending the last three weeks with her newest grandchild, leaving her husband at home with the House Elves. Amelia would later look on it as a miracle, that Susan had been out of the house that night, when the Death Eaters claimed her mother and her brother's family.

When Amelia herself was released from St. Mungo's, and the Abbott clan plus Susan were over their Pox, Amelia collected her niece and moved back into the Bones family manor with her ailing father. Jonathan Bones outlasted his wife and heir by almost two years; just long enough to train his daughter in taking on the mantle of Lady Bones.

As a single parent, and as the prospective Lady Bones, Amelia found herself suddenly relegated to desk duty, instead of working as a field auror. Instead of camping outside a dingy storefront at the far end of Knockturn Alley, her nights were spent filling out reports, figuring out budgets, and calming nightmares.

Of course Amelia had been willing to take in young Harry Potter, when James and Lily were killed. A part of her, though, hoped that the boy would go to someone else — one of the other alternates on Alexander's list. It was one thing to think that she and Fabian had eight months to get used to the idea of becoming parents, and to picture how badly her husband would handle his first nappie. It was another thing to have that baby, and most of the rest of her family ripped away, and then, in her grief, to suddenly become a single parent and then a Lady on the Wizengamot. Amelia wasn't sure she could handle being the foster mother of the Boy-Who-Lived on top of all that.

As the years passed, however, and Amelia became more comfortable with the new direction her life had taken, she became more concerned over young Harry Potter. Alexander MacMillan had voiced his concerns to her more than once, and as the years went by with no word on the boy, Amelia's own concerns grew.

Coming from a long family of Hufflepuffs, Amelia was no stranger to hard work, which was one of the reasons she hadn't given up her job completely when she became Susan's guardian. A side effect of this was that she continued to climb through the ranks of the desk-bound in the DMLE. And every time her clearance raised, Amelia began a new round of discrete inquiries into anything regarding the Potter case.

When Alexander suddenly called for her and told her that Harry had been found, Amelia's first instinct was to question all of her contacts, to figure out how the information had come to him before her. Finding out that Harry was in the Muggle world explained a good deal of her difficulties in tracking him down. It also raised several new questions, and she and Alexander started meeting weekly to work on these.

Now, far from eyeing the stacks of parchmentwork on her desk with dread, Amelia was looking at them with glee. It had taken her two years to figure out why she couldn't access a trial transcript for Sirius Black (there hadn't been one) and to get Andromeda close enough to him to get the truth. Amelia had spent her free time for the next year conspiring with Alexander to block every legal maneuver that Dumbledore or Malfoy could think to throw at them. The stack of parchment on her desk had been signed by all the relevant parties including, today, Harry Potter. As soon as the goblins sent her the confirmation that Harry had indeed taken up his place in the Black family, she could place that notice on top and file the entire bundle with the appropriate departments.

Since Augusta had planned to take Harry to the bank this morning, Amelia was sure that the owl from Gringotts would be reaching her before the hour was out. And then, this stack of parchment was going to become the problem of several deserving parties.

Oh yes, if Amelia was the kind, she would have rubbed her hands together with glee. The law had been broken in several ways pertaining to Sirius Black and Harry Potter, and Amelia was going to see justice done on their behalf. The sound of pecking at her window made Amelia's smile widen fit to split her face in half as she waved her wand to open it for the owl. Yes, today was going to be a good day.

Chapter Text

Harry and Neville quickly found an empty compartment and claimed it. Together they put their trunks up on the racks, and then hung Hedwig and Demosthenes in their cages from the hooks for just that purpose. Settling in by the window, their feet meeting in the middle, the two brothers took the time to look around. As Susan had decided to sit with her friend Hannah, and Ernie was hiding from his female cousins, Harry and Neville were on their own.

"We should put up a sign or something," Harry said, continuing a conversation they had been having off and on for the last few months.

"Muggleborns welcome?" Neville suggested. "It would also open them up to teasing from the wrong crowd. Anyone who wanted to could poke their head in here and insult them all."

"True," Harry conceded.

When Harry's Hogwarts letter arrived, he had asked tons of questions about the process. Discovering that Muggleborns got a visit from the Assistant Headmistress had left him wondering why he wasn't getting the same. After all, Harry had been left to live with muggles. As far as anyone knew, he was basically a muggleborn. Shouldn't he also get the muggleborn version of the Hogwarts visit?

Uncle Mac hadn't been able to answer him about that, but he had acknowledged that there was a reason that Harry's official address was still at Bishop's Shortford. They didn't want the wizarding world to know that he was living with the Longbottoms until the last possible second. Like, right now, on the train. Maybe even not until the sorting, if they could get away with it.

Harry had thought often throughout the years about how lucky he was to have been introduced to the wizarding world by his family. He had had many a long conversation with the Bells on how muggleborns were treated, and how Mrs Bell, as a muggleborn, had dealt with the culture shock. While Harry could now pass for a wizarding-raised child, he still had his muggle-raised roots. He had determined that he should find the muggleborns on the train and offer to help them acclimate. Neville had agreed in principle, but it was the practice that they disagreed on.

Neville was all for waiting until they got to school and asking their new classmates who was a muggleborn, then offering to help them. Harry, on the other hand, wanted to talk to them as soon as possible. He had also heard about the different school Houses from his older cousins, and knew that if he was in a different House than the other students, then he would have almost no chance to talk to them. At least until the third year electives mixed up the House lines slightly in class.

No, Harry was determined to start early with the others, before they were separated by House lines. As with most of Harry's crazy schemes, such as climbing onto the Manor roof, going on the stomach-dropper roller coaster, and going to a topless beach in France, Neville was willing to be dragged along for the ride.

"Maybe if we pose it as a riddle?" Harry suggested. "Like, put up a sign; if you know what the tube is, you're welcome here. The Purebloods won't know what it means, but also won't immediately know that it's a muggle thing."

"That could work," Neville agreed. "But I'd go for something a bit more obscure. After all, as a noun, tube is a word that Purebloods would know. More like Pence or something."

"Ooh!" Harry grabbed his notebook and a pen from his rucksack. "1p Entrance fee."

"Perfect!" Neville chortled.

A bit of spellotape and their sign was now proudly displayed on the door. Within moments, a girl with bushy brown hair had spied their sign, done a double take, and knocked on the door. "Hello?" she asked.

"Come in!" Harry declared. "As long as you've got the fee! Muggleborn, I assume?"

"Hermione Granger," she declared stiffly.

"Great!" Harry patted the seat beside himself. "Welcome, Hermione. Hey, is that from Shakespeare?"

Hermione stopped short, her trunk bumping into her ankles. "It is, actually! A Winter's Tale! I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet another muggleborn! The first compartment the girls looked at me like I was an alien when I introduced myself. They said they didn't know of a wizarding family named Granger, so I must be a mudblood."

"I hate that term," Harry growled. "Neville, remind me to punch anyone using it."

Neville rolled his eyes, well used to his Godbrother's crusade against verbal bullying. It had taken Harry the better part of the last few years working with his mind healer, but Harry had gotten past many of his issues from his life with the Dursleys. He had no tolerance, however, for bullies.

"Please don't punch anyone on my account!" Hermione gasped.

"It isn't on your account," Neville reassured her. "Harry here just likes showing off in front of pretty girls." Hermione blushed and ducked her head, while Harry kicked his brother in the shin. When he had first met Neville, the boy could barely string a sentence together in Susan or Hannah's presence, but now after spending the last few years with Harry and Tonks, he could give as good as he got.

"Anyway, Hermione, welcome." Harry said, grabbing her trunk and hoisting it into the overhead. "I'm Harry, and the comedian over there is my brother, Neville."

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione said. "So are you both muggleborns too?"

"Not exactly," Harry shrugged. "I'm muggle-raised though, and discovered my family and about the wizarding world three years ago, when Neville's family adopted me. I wanted to grab the other muggle-raised kids before we got to Hogwarts and offer to help with getting acclimated to everything, just like Neville helped me."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Harry. "I read everything I could, including Hogwarts, A History, but there are so many things it doesn't mention."

Before Harry could reply, there was another tentative knock and the door cracked open. "Hello?" asked a brunet boy and a girl with long blonde hair.

"Muggleborns?" Harry asked. They both nodded. "Come on in! We're Harry, Neville, and Hermione. And you are?"

"Terry Boot," the boy answered.

"Sally-Anne Perks," said the girl.

"Welcome!" Before they could finish putting their luggage away, a black boy named Dean Thomas and another girl named Sophie Roper had joined them. Harry was thankful for the magical expanding charms the compartments had, and the hidden rune sequence to activate them that Tonks had told him about, as Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, Lavender Brown, and Lisa Turpin soon followed.

After about twenty minutes without the door opening, and as the rush of passing footsteps outside had tapered off, Harry figured that he had gotten most of the Muggleborns on this trip. So, Harry jotted a quick note, and concentrating on the simple spell that Rachel had taught him, tapped his wand to the paper. Immediately, it folded itself into a paper airplane, impatiently waiting for him to open the door. Once he did, it quickly took off. Grinning, Harry pulled down his sign and shut the compartment door.

Once everyone was all tucked in cozily together and Harry had reclaimed his window seat, Harry again recounted the short version of his path to the wizarding world, and his desire to prep other muggleborn and muggle-raised kids the way he had been. Neville made a few jokes about being the token pureblood, but Harry knew his brother fully supported his agenda. And as one of the few purebloods who knew what muggles were really capable of, he fully believed in teaching the muggleborn how to acclimate without forcing them to completely suppress their heritage.

Harry and the others made a pact to continue to help each other, regardless of which House they were in after the sorting. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, as no muggleborn had been sorted into Slytherin in living memory, and the other Houses generally got along. However, Harry had a suspicion that things would not be so easy for him. The others soon had out notebooks and pens and several were taking notes as Harry and Neville launched into their semi-prepared lecture.

First, Neville briefed the others on the proper way to introduce oneself in the wizarding world. Handshakes had never really caught on, except for sealing alliances, and the moment a muggleborn held out their hand in greeting, it immediately identified them. Instead, a head nod was the typical greeting amongst strangers and mere acquaintances. Just knowing that small trick would keep muggleborns from being identified and mocked by purebloods at their first meeting.

After learning that only Hermione and Lisa had read Hogwarts, A History,, Harry gave a brief overview of the sorting process, calming many of them down considerably, and then mentioned the four Houses.

"Having been in a House system at my prep-school, I can tell you that the Hogwarts one sounds bonkers," Harry started. "At Bishops Shortford, students were randomly assigned to Houses, other than all of the boarders, who were lumped together. At Hogwarts, you are sorted based on your personality, and instead of your House being a fun extracurricular system for points and games, it becomes your definition for life."

"You must be joking," Justin said. Some of the others looked quite shocked.

"Nope," Harry shook his head, searching for a relevant example. "How many of you follow a footie team?" he tossed out. "Not just, oh, hey, if they're playing I'll root for them over someone else, but really follow one team."

Dean, Wayne, and Sophie raised their hands. "Right, well the rest of you imagine it," Harry instructed. "Now picture that everywhere you go until you're 17, your team association is pretty much emblazoned on your forehead. It dictates who you can be friends with and how people view you. When you graduate, it will determine what jobs you can get. No supporter of Man U will hire a Hammer, and if they find out you're an Arsenal fan they'll literally try to kill you. If your whole family are Hammers and you end up with Arsenal, you can be disowned, disinherited, and called a blood traitor. That's basically what the Houses are like, and only slightly less arbitrary in how you're assigned."

Everyone but Neville was gaping at him now. "But you said a Hat just decides where you go…" Lavender said quietly.

Nodding, Harry elaborated. "Yeah, based on your current personality. For example, how many of you like to study?" Hermione, Lisa, Justin, Terry, and Harry put their hands up. "Right, you are now Ravenclaws," Harry declared. "Now, how many of you would say that fair play and friendliness are your deal?"

Dean, Sally, Lavender, Wayne, and again Harry raised their hands. Seeing Harry with his hand up again prompted Justin to follow suit. "Congrats, you're a Hufflepuff," Harry said. "Those who are bold, active, or adventurous?" Only Dean, Sophie, and Harry raised their hands. "Gryffindors all," Harry declared.

"And finally, who is ambitious? Clever? Aimed higher than people told you you could go?" Hermione, Justin, Dean, and Harry all quickly raised their hands. "Then you're a Slytherin."

"But many of us raised our hands more than once!" Hermione protested. "And you raised your hand for all four!"

"Right, because humans are more complicated than a simple personality graph," Harry replied. "And eleven year olds are not necessarily good indicators of what their seventeen or seventy year old selves will be like. But wizards don't see it that way. Whichever of these traits is picked as being 'dominant' by the Sorting Hat, that's where you'll go. And you'll be branded for life. Nev?"

Neville sighed. "In the wizarding world, there are basically two— well, three, kinds of wizards. Dark, Light, and Neutral. My family is considered light, as is Harry's. To those on the light side, Gryffindors are courageous warriors, Ravenclaws are smart, Hufflepuffs are loyal, and Slytherins are evil."

The others gasped, and Neville continued. "To the dark families, Gryffindors are impetuous idiots, Ravenclaws are either valuable researchers or unrealistic academics, depending on their side of the divide, Hufflepuffs are easily manipulated duffers, and Slytherins are the only kind of people worth knowing."

"But that makes no sense!" Lisa declared.

"Nor does labeling us that way at eleven!" Justin added.

"Yet one example of the backward ways of the wizarding world," Harry declared, "like quills." The others nodded, while Neville just shrugged. He had heard this kind of thing from Harry often over the last few years, and for the most part, agreed.

"From what I understand from my cousins," Harry continued," you will be sorted, and you will spend the next seven years pretty much only interacting with your own House, except in some classes, or competitions. Clubs are just about non-existent. You'll be indoctrinated into that mindset, and you'll leave Hogwarts believing in it just as much as the purebloods. Or you'll be disillusioned and return to the muggle world, by way of a muggle catch up school run by the Bell family."

"That doesn't sound at all like what Professor McGonagall said," Wayne said doubtfully.

"She's a pureblood," Harry said with a shrug. "She's lived her entire life in the wizarding world and she's spent the last fifty years living and teaching at Hogwarts. She has no idea what the muggle world is like, or what really happens to you after you graduate. Why would she? Pureblood wizards essentially pride themselves in knowing nothing about the Muggle world. If you were to mention the Shuttle Atlantis flight, or the recent war in the Middle East, they would have no idea what you were talking about."

"I don't believe this!" Justin snapped. "I was going to go to Eton!"

"I understand, mate," Harry said, clapping him on the back. "Part of me wanted to stay at Bishops Shortford. Especially after some of the things my cousins told me about Hogwarts. But here's the thing. I said I was ambitious and I am. When I discovered my family were wizards, I looked into their background. And it turns out that I have a family tradition to uphold: bridging the gap between the muggle and wizarding worlds. And I intend to do that. You lot are my test case."

Several of them looked doubtful, but Hermione, Sophie, and Dean were leaning forward eagerly.

Harry took a deep breath and then launched into what Neville teasingly called his vision, honed over the last three years. "Look, back in the day, and I mean the witch-burning days, it made sense for wizards to isolate themselves from muggles. Up until that time they had pretty much developed together, but at that point it became too dangerous. And you'll basically find that that is the point at which British wizarding culture generally stopped growing."

Ignoring the shocked looks he was getting, Harry ploughed on. "I mean, sure, a few things have wiggled their way in, like the phonograph and the radio, the Express, and oh, all of one bus, but those are about it, in terms of general culture. Certain families might know more, particularly if they often have muggleborns marry in, or make it a point to study muggles, but other than that, nope!"

"Study muggles!" Hermione screeched.

"Like we used to study indigenous tribes," Harry agreed sadly. "Look how much these backwards, disadvantaged people have managed to accomplish! Like babes in the woods! It's a miracle they survive without us!"

Neville looked ready to protest, but having heard the same things his whole life before Harry, he knew his brother was right. "Now I'm not saying every wizard is like this," Harry acknowledged. "The Macmillans and Bells, for example, make a point of interacting with muggles and muggleborns. And my family, like Neville here, have certainly had their eyes opened since I was adopted. But there are far more of the other kind."

"But that's barbaric!" Hermione protested.

"I should call my father," Justin agreed.

"Good luck with that," Harry snorted. "Phones have not caught on. Though you could borrow Hedwig, I suppose." He gestured at his owl in her cage, and she gave a calm hoot in reply. "But I'd rather you didn't. Because here's my plan. We're going to infiltrate the wizarding world. There are far more muggleborns and muggle-raised half-bloods than true purebloods, nowadays. Our class is on the low end, because we're the ones born during the tail end of a war where the bad guys specifically targeted muggleborn families, but believe me, there's going to be a boom in the next few years."

"So here's the plan. Neville and I will teach you everything you need to know to not stick out too much to the purebloods. Your jobs are to succeed and become the very best witches and wizards you can, while helping me with every year group that comes after us. By the time we graduate, I intend to start a prep-school for muggleborns before Hogwarts, to do what we're doing for you. Because if they can't tell you're not a pureblood at first glance, then why should they ever know?"

"But our names," Hermione protested. "Those girls knew I had a muggle name."

"Actually, you have a squib name," Harry corrected, waving a negligent hand. "Or your mother did. Someone in your family. Look, have you all had basic genetics in science yet?"

The others all nodded. "Right, well wizards don't learn about it, of course, but basically magic is a recessive gene. It isn't exactly that simple, as there are multiple genes involved and whatnot, but for the point of this explanation it works. When wizards have children who can't perform magic, we know that's because their kid got a dominant gene for not doing magic. But they call the child a squib and dump them out in the muggle world with nothing. They grow up, have kids, and eventually those kids marry and somewhere down the line you end up with a child with a double recessive in magic. Boom! Muggleborn!"

"That actually makes sense," Dean said, as Wayne nodded beside him.

"I know," Harry smirked. "But wizards have no clue. We could easily trace your families back and find the wizarding family — or families, more likely, since you've got to have it on both sides — that you come from. Then, instead of introducing yourself as Hermione Granger and holding out your hand to shake, you introduce yourself as Hermione, of the wizarding Whoevers, and nod your head. Boom! pureblood manners right back in their snooty faces."

"We're not all like that, to clarify," Neville said. "This is mostly for the Draco Malfoys of the world, rather than myself, or Harry's cousins."

"Yes, that's true," Harry acknowledged. "The ones who will discriminate against you right to your face are a minority. But the entrenched bias in the culture is what I want to tackle when we've graduated! Too many muggleborns can't get a good job because they don't have pureblood relatives willing to vouch for them or pull a few strings. They become disillusioned and return to the muggle world. Well I'm not going to let that happen anymore. We're going to get rid of the inherent cultural bias and drag the wizarding world into the nineteenth century. Maybe even the twentieth."

Wayne whistled, and Lisa whispered, "Wow. That is ambitious."

"Not the twenty-first century?" Justin teased.

"Now that's too ambitious, even for me," Harry teased back.

After a moment to let them all absorb his words, Harry smirked. "So, are you in?"

Hermione, Justin, Dean, Terry, and Sophie quickly agreed, with Wayne, Lisa, Lavender, and Sally-Anne joining in after seeing the others were on-board.

"Great!" Harry grabbed a folder from his rucksack and pulled a sheaf of papers from it, which he promptly handed out. "Now here's the deal. These are all the pureblood families who have kids in our year at Hogwarts, and the names of the kids, as best as we could scope. There are a few half-bloods from minor arms, and we aren't positive on their first names, but the last name is definitely correct. Every pureblood is expected to know every other wizard family; at least the big names, and those of a certain social station have to know the family tree of everyone and their cousin."

"The half-bloods and lesser pureblood families won't care about you," Neville added, "and those purebloods of a lighter persuasion will care but won't bother you. But the names with a star are the ones you have to watch out for."

"Draco Malfoy — likely to be their ringleader because of his father's position," Harry began, reading down the list. "The Malfoy family currently has the ear of the Minister, so be wary around him. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are, from what we can gather, his henchmen. They'll do his dirty work, but probably won't come after you on their own."

"Pansy Parkinson; oldest child of Lord Parkinson," Neville continued. "And Millicent Bulstrode of the Bulstrode family. Both definitely blood supremacists. Theodore Nott and Morag MacDougal, of the Nott and MacDougal families, respectively, round out the worst of the pack. Both have older siblings at Hogwarts."

"Daphne Greengrass and Lillian Moon are each from a pureblood family, but they've been largely neutral in the last few generations, as has the Zabini family," Harry said. "Blaise is the heir there. Those three will probably look down on you for being a muggleborn, but aren't likely to do anything about it."

"Tracey Davis, Su Li, Michael Connor, Mister Runcorn, and Zacharias and Miss Smith — cousins, by the way — are from Pureblood families, but are half-bloods themselves, and unlikely to attack you, though they'll expect you to be deferential to them. Those are the big ones," Neville finished.

"There are other purebloods here, but from light or light-neutral families, so you don't have to worry about them," Harry said. "Neville, of course, falls into that category, as do my cousins Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. Ronald Weasley, the Patil girls, Amanda Brocklehurst, Anthony Goldstein, and Mister Rivers are also light purebloods and should be fine."

"Light half-bloods we know are fine include Hannah Abbot, Kevin Entwhistle, and Megan Jones," Neville finished. "The ones that should be fine are Seamus Finnigan and the Dunbar girl. But as we don't know them personally, we can't vouch for them."

"We're expected to know all of this?" Sally-Anne whispered.

"No, of course not," Harry took pity on her. "We're just trying to give you the lay of the land. And if you do memorize it, you'll come across as less of an outsider. Like we said, the pureblood and half-blood children will have had this drilled into their heads since they were tots, so it all comes second nature to them. I've done my best to catch up in the last three years, and I for one think that it isn't fair how Hogwarts gets sprung on you with so little notice like this. But since I had no way of reaching you until you saw my sign out there, I had no way of helping you before this."

"Look, you can ignore this, and just go back to being a typical muggleborn," Harry offered. "Sit wherever you like, talk to whoever you like. Make friends in your new House and ignore the pureblood politics until you've graduated and are in the adult world. That's totally a fine option. I'm just offering to help you out with all of that now, if you want it."

Sally-Anne nodded. "I understand. Thank you."

"It's a bit overwhelming, is all," Lavender Brown said.

"I get that," Harry agreed. "I totally do! That's exactly how I felt when they first sprung magic on me!"

Before he could continue, someone pushed the door open. "What is this, the steerage compartment?" an arrogant blonde boy demanded.

"Malfoy," Neville nodded.

"Crabbe, Goyle," Harry nodded at his flanking henchmen.

"Squib," Malfoy sneered at Neville. He did a double take at Harry, though, clearly unable to place him.

"Surely you are aware of the testing requirements for Hogwarts," Harry said casually, but with a steel edge to his voice. "I mean, as a Malfoy I'm sure you would be."

"So?" Malfoy's reply was a little petulant sounding.

"So how can you justify calling the Heir Longbottom a squib if he has been accepted to Hogwarts?" Harry pointed out evenly.

"Everyone knows he can barely do magic," Malfoy scoffed. "Maybe he bribed his way into the school."

"Your family would know all about bribes, wouldn't it, Malfoy?" Harry shot back. "Of course, you also know all about squibs, too, don't you?"

Malfoy froze, his cheeks flushing angrily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, do you not often visit your uncle Meraclus?" Harry said with fake concern. "I hear he's doing quite well for himself in the Muggle world. Rich, too. I thought, with all the bribes your father has paid to Minister Fudge, and with keeping your mother in the lifestyle she would expect as a Black, surely your father would have had to borrow a bit from his younger brother every now and then."

The color drained from Malfoy's face and he immediately turned and stomped away. After a moment his henchmen followed. After another long moment Lavender, who was closest to the door, slid it back closed.

"And that's the advantage to knowing pureblood politics!" Harry said cheerfully, while the others looked at him as though he had a second head. Harry himself was a bit put out that the confrontation had happened on the train; he had been hoping for a bigger audience. Too bad Malfoy wouldn't come at him again in public any time soon.

"That was a little scary, mate," Wayne said.

Harry waved him off. "That was the first salvo in my anti-bullying campaign. I don't like bullies, and I won't tolerate it around me at Hogwarts."

Before anyone could comment, A soft tap came from the door. All heads swiveled that way again, and Harry said, "Would someone mind opening that?"

Lavender opened the door, and a paper airplane soared in, landing in Harry's lap. Stunned, she closed the door again. Harry quickly opened the paper. "Alright! So, I've mentioned my cousins to you. One of them is a seventh year Prefect in Ravenclaw. I sent her a list of your last names, and she looked them up for me. This is just a rough list, because obviously your family trees have plenty of people who don't have your last names, but this is what she found."

"There's a Dagworth-Granger family that is believed to have died out a few generations back, when they squibbed out. Hermione, you're likely related to them. The Rookwood family had a halfblood branch named Turpin that died out. Lisa, you're likely related. Finch is a common wizarding name, so Justin you're likely to get it from that side of your family. The Hopkins family is also believed to have been squibbed out a century or so back. Wayne, you're likely related. She doesn't have anything on the rest of you, but it's still a start."

Harry looked up from Anna's note and saw the others gaping at him. "What?"

"You mean we all have magical family?" Lisa asked.

"Sure! I mean, like I said, it is a recessive gene thing. And wizards tend not to follow up on muggleborns who leave or squibs who are tossed out. There are plenty of ways to trace magic through your family trees. I'm just impressed that she recognized four of your names. That's almost half!"

"So what does that do for us?" Hermione wanted to know.

"At the moment, not much," Neville said. "You can go to Gringotts over the holidays and take a heritage test if you'd like. That would tell you for sure where your family tree diverged from the wizarding world. If there were any properties or accounts left the Ministry likely would have already found a way to claim them, but it is possible that something might exist. In fact that applies to all of you, not just the ones Anna recognized."

"But most importantly, it gives you a connection into the pureblood world," Harry said. "So when someone like Malfoy comes along, you aren't just Hermione Granger, muggleborn. You're Hermione Granger, of the wizarding Dagworth-Granger family. You have a certain amount of status and protection because of that. Sure, it won't stop someone like Malfoy from shooting off his mouth at you, but someone who's neutral, like Smith or Patil, are more likely to accept you as more of their equal."

"Oh." Hermione went back to studying the list

"Anyway, if you can sketch out your family trees for me, back to grandparents, with maiden names for the women, I can pass it on to my Uncle and he'll have your wizarding connections sussed out in a day."

"That quickly?" Justin wanted to know.

Harry smirked. "Magic. And also he's very familiar with the wizarding-muggle divide. He's the one who told me about Malfoy's uncle being a squib—"

"And a huge mark of shame for the family," Neville added. He was still a little touchy about being called a squib himself, but his Hogwarts letter and his working wand had done wonders for his fears. That and Harry's instant acceptance of him as a brother. "Most purebloods see squibs as something to be ashamed of, when they aren't blaming muggleborns for stealing their magic."

"What! That's preposterous!" Dean scoffed.

"Hey, you and I know about recessive genes, but most wizards don't," Harry reminded him. "I know they seem like idiots to us now, but consider that regular people thought that way too until not too long ago. Wizards have no such thing as science, so they really don't get any of those advances. You know the thing that still baffles Nev the most?"

"What?" Lavender asked eagerly.

"CPR."

"If you're dead, you're dead," Neville replied, having gone over this with Harry numerous times. "End of story."

Lisa opened her mouth to protest, but Harry waved her off. "Don't bother. I've tried for two years. I figure that's the kind of thing that will take a while to sink in, but we've got decades. Plus Nev's really very good about the other stuff. And he's addicted to telly."

Neville was about to defend himself when Hermione interrupted. "Wait a minute!" She waved the list of names that Harry had provided. "You don't have Harry Potter on here! I read all about him in The Boy Who Lived and Who's Who of the Wizarding World; he's supposed to be coming to Hogwarts this year. You said you have all but the Muggleborns on this list, but you don't have him."

Harry calmly stared at her.

"Wait— you're not— you can't—" Hermione stuttered.

"So what if Harry's last name is Potter?" Dean asked cluelessly.

"But he's in books?" Lavender said. "He's famous?"

"But you said you were muggle-raised!" Wayne pointed out.

Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face. "Okay, here's the short version. My parents were wizards; mum a muggleborn and dad from an old pureblood family. But when I was one, they were killed. I survived. Because of that, wizarding idiots decided that I was some kind of messiah and started making up all this boy-who-lived nonsense. Because I didn't die. That's really it. How stupid is that? Your parents are dead, but you're not, so let's—"

Neville nudged Harry's foot, and with a small huff he continued. "Some wizards decided to play god with my life and dumped me with my mum's muggle relatives, who hated magic and didn't tell me anything about the wizarding world. Suffice to say that it didn't work out. My wizarding family finally found me when I was eight, and brought me into the wizarding world in a very hush-hush way, so as to not tip off the ones that booted me out in the first place. I still went to school in the muggle world, and was raised a muggle, but I've got a small leg up on the average muggleborn."

Again the others in the compartment just stared at him. Finally Sally-Anne broke the silence. "So you're an orphan?"

Harry nodded.

"Me too," she whispered. Harry offered her a half-smile.

"My dad left before I was born," Dean offered. "My mum didn't even know his last name. I've got her's."

"I'm… normal," Sophie offered with a grin. "Sorry. We can't all have tragic backstories!"

That effectively broke the tension as everyone laughed.

Once they calmed down again, Harry continued. "So, as best as I can understand it, here's what would normally happen tonight. You get sorted, and shown to your dorms. Then the next morning, when you get your timetable, your Head of House would also give you a little pamphlet that Uncle Mac made. Of course, he's a pureblood, and though he does try his best, this thing is woefully incomplete. But it basically gives you some handy phrases to use in writing home to your parents, offers some official Hogwarts stationary, and suggests writing two letters home; one describing your actual life for your parents, and one with the more generic details and code phrases for them to show to extended family and neighbors and such. Those not in the know about the wizarding world. And that's about it."

"That's it?" Lisa asked, her nose wrinkling.

"That's it," Harry confirmed. "Of course, before Uncle Mac made those pamphlets and Hogwarts stationary, no one gave the muggleborns any kind of help about those things, so this is much better than it was. Anyway, so you'll get that. But I also need your help. I'm a little more insulated from the muggle/magical divide, as I've been living in both worlds for the last three years. I need your help to point out the things that purebloods don't realize. The things that all muggleborns need to know. Then we can re-write the pamphlet."

"You know what would be helpful," Dean suggested, "was if McGonagall could bring that pamphlet with her when she visited us."

"Oh, yes!" Sophie quickly agreed. "She did answer some of my parents' questions, but then she whisked us off to Diagon Alley and it was just information overload. It wasn't until we were back home, without a way to contact her, that we thought of dozens of questions."

"Good point; she did the same thing with us," Justin added. "I've got a whole list from my father. Being unable to contact anyone except by owl and having no way to get back to the magical alley makes it quite impossible for us to contact anyone."

Harry quickly jotted down these notes.

"And having the pamphlet earlier would give us more time to memorize these kinds of things," Hermione added, waving her list of students that Harry had provided. "It would give us the chance to prepare in advance, instead of trying to play catch up."

"All excellent ideas," Harry said, scribbling in his notebook. "Now, what did she tell you about magical culture?"

As the muggleborns shared their first impressions and questions about the magical world, Harry filled his notebook with thoughts. He and Neville did their best to answer the others' questions, and to catch them up on the basic things that every magical-raised child already knew. Harry was the best at translating things between the two worlds, but Neville had his fair share of references from the past three years.

Their discussion was only interrupted by the sweets trolley and a Prefect patrol, giving Harry the opportunity to introduce them all to his cousin Anna Macmillan.

As the afternoon wore on, the conversation shifted from introducing the group to the wizarding world to general chatter. They shared their pasts, the accidental magic they had performed as a child, and their feelings upon learning that Hogwarts was real. Chocolate Frog cards were traded, Exploding Snap was played, and a muggle fashion magazine was passed around courtesy of Lavender.

By the time the train pulled up to the Hogsmeade station, the group had begun to form fast friendships. They all promised that, no matter what House they were sorted into, they would continue to be friends and help each other out. They also refused to let the wizarding world erase their muggle heritage. Magicals might not know about space travel, or the pending dissolution of the USSR, or what a walkman or telly was, but they did. And they weren't going to forget those things any time soon.