Twelve year old Harry Potter sat miserably on his huanches in the Dursley’s attic. Uncle Vernon hadn’t been too pleased with the results of his important meeting with the Masons; truth be told Harry wasn’t either. A strange creature had the gall to dump Aunt Petunia’s precious pudding on Mrs. Mason’s head. In hind sight it might have been funny later if the owl from the Ministry of Magic hadn’t turned up... the Dursley’s weren’t the only ones who did not like creatures of the avian type.

Uncle Vernon had been ropable as he closed the door behind the furious Mason’s with ill concealed viciousness. The fat man then turned on Harry quicker that the youngster could scramble into the relative safety of the kitchen. The next thing Harry knew his nose was pressed to the kitchen table and Uncle Vernon’s belt was searing his butt. That was until Aunt Petunia arrived with her hefty genuine rainforest wood hairbrush.

Harry rubbed his bum thoughtfully. Uncle Vernon had been thorough with delivering hearty wallops with Aunt Petunia’s spare hairbrush, which was kept for occasions like these.

In addition to the humiliating smacking, Harry had been locked up in Dudley’s second bedroom at night and during the day locked into rooms while working on his multitude of chores.

Today Harry had been locked in the dusty, dingy attic and was sorting through old things to throw out. Although it was unlikely anything would actually be thrown out. Aunt Petunia was a little bit of a hoarder.

Harry thought that this job might have been a little interesting if his Aunt had left anything remotely non-boring up here to find. He always liked to indulge in a little bit of healthy snooping while doing chores. Snooping of course was done when the Dursley’s were not looking. Last year Harry had found an old copy of a statement Uncle Vernon had given the police. Something about some young yuppies giving Uncle Vernon what sounded like a well earned thrashing. That particular document was an interesting read and it made Harry feel just a little bit better that someone else had thrashed his Uncle.

Sneezing brought Harry out of his reverie and he continued to sort through neatly packed oddments into carefully uniformed cardboard boxes. So far he found Aunt Petunia’s maternity clothes – seemed like Dudley was huge before he was even born and plenty of Dudley baby photos – Harry kept the one of a naked three year old Dudley for later.

Sniffling and wiping his runny nose on his long sleeves Harry moved to a shoebox and settled it onto his lap. He opened the lid not expecting to find anything interesting. And as he supposed all it was bunches of paper. He was about to fling the whole box into the large rubbish bag when he decided against it. He would regret it if he threw out something important… and there still might be something of note...

The first few documents were old bank statements printed on run of the mill muggle paper. But Harry nearly dropped the box in complete surprise when underneath the seemingly dull mugglish documents was a large wad of parchment… stuff that Harry had only seen in the wizarding world.

Harry pulled the wad out and tugged at the twine that held them together. The knot wasn’t very tight and came undone quite easily. The first thing on the pile was an envelope and when Harry turned it over he nearly fainted in surprise. There plain as day was the Hogwarts seal firmly stamped in glittering purple ink.

He had known since last summer that his Aunt was aware of the magical world. But why would someone from Hogwarts write to her of all people?

With trembling hands Harry opened the letter. After all, if it was from the magical world then most likely it was about him. And a little snooping never bothered anyone.

Mr. and Mrs V Dursley,

I regret to inform you of the untimely death of Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I have left their child in your safe keeping. I am sure that you will have no qualms taking him in. The child and your family shall be safe from dark wizards and the like as long as you do so. Even though the youngster is adopted, Lily’s ultimate sacrifice will protect him, your family and your property.

Enclosed are various documents that young Harry may need later in life. Due to the delicacy of the documents please note it is advisable not to share them with Harry before I appoint a time. Bare in mind the consequences if you choose not to heed my warning.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

(Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards.)

Harry’s mouth went dry at the word ‘adopted’. He shook his head several times before his brain could begin to think. Adopted, how could he be adopted? Harry’s heart leapt in his rib cage because that meant Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren’t really his Aunt and Uncle. But why didn’t Dumbledore tell him he was adopted? Why did he look like James? And why did Dumbledore think he was safe in this house? It was nothing extraordinary after all!

Stuffing the letter and the rest of the documents into his jacket Harry grumbled. He’d read them later, he decided, when he wanted to be put in a foul mood.

Harry had the opportunity to read his letters after he had been thrown back into Dudley’s second bedroom. That had been two days ago and he hadn’t seen anyone expect Aunt Petunia’s hand as she pushed through cold soup through the cat flap.

As it was Harry had finished what school work he could and was now lying on the bed on his tummy bored out if his wits. This is what convinced him to bite the bullet and read the rest of the damn documents.

First he smoothed out Dumbledore’s letter and read it through slowly again. Rude and to the point Harry thought. If he had found out a sibling had been cruelly murdered he would like to be told with a little more sympathy. Sighing he set the letter aside.

Harry pulled out the next parchment. At first glance it looked like a business receipt. Along the top was a gaudy ink design of medieval drawing of a hen with outstretched wings. Underneath was the company name: Little Tykes Agency.

Harry blinked incredulously and glanced down the list.

Mr. and Mrs. J Potter to order: one newborn male child to have no recording of biological parents. To be of pureblooded stock. 660 Galleons.

Changing of baby’s features (deluxe potion) 90 Galleons.

Legal/Consultant Fees: 130 Galleons. Baby to have similar features of adopting parents. Additional 135 Galleons.

Documentation: 75 Galleons.

Harry could hardly believe it. It was like a shopping list for a designer baby. And what on earth was the difference between a deluxe potion and a normal potion. Glaring daggers at the parchment Harry continued down at the part underneath the ‘shopping’ list.

Child’s Name: Harry James Potter
Born: 31st July 1980
Delivered to Adopting Parents on the: 1st August 1980

Total: 1090 Galleons (Paid in Full)

Underneath the total of the bill was James’ signature and beside that was the name of the owner of Little Tykes: Sydney Higglesworth.

Harry couldn’t believe it. His adoptive parents had paid a small fortune for him. It was a little ridiculous really. Seeing red, but his brain not really registering much Harry flipped through the rest of the stack of parchment. Nothing else was noteworthy. It was just a bunch of parchment on early medical information including yes, that designer baby came with ten toes and fingers.

Dear Ron,

Having a rotten summer. A strange creature named Dobby ruined the Dursley’s dinner party with an important client. Uncle Vernon is not happy. It’s a long story; but it stars a creamy pudding and official ministry owls. In retrospect it was kinda funny. Dursley’s have virtually locked me up. Uncle Vernon seems to have forgotten Hedwig. Before I forget, Dobby, the funny creature, says I cannot go back to Hogwarts because it isn’t safe – little git.

On a side note what do you know about adoptions in the magical world?

Harry.

Harry re-read his letter three or four times, hoping that he wasn’t sounding completely and utterly desperate. There was one thing Harry hated being and that was sounding desperate. He told himself that he was not upset by the revelation that he was not a ‘real’ Potter and Dumbledore had known all along and had not found it important enough to mention. He was curious… just curious.

Sighing Harry called Hedwig over and the beautiful snowy white owl settled beside him. “Take this to Ron,” he said as he attached the letter to Hedwig’s leg. “Wait for an answer, okay girl.”

Hedwig gave an intelligent hoot, as if to explain that she understood. Then with two great flaps of her wings she lifted herself into the air and out the window.

Kicking the dust off the ground Harry watched miserably as Hedwig disappeared. “There goes the last of my hope of any intelligent conversation around here. I hope Ron answers my letters soon… I hope Dobby isn’t still nicking them the little git.”

There wasn’t much to do for Harry but to wait for Ron’s reply to his letter. He lay on his bed, or rather thin piece of material that might have once passed for a mattress and laid his head down. Harry thought he only closed his eyes for a moment; however he must have dozed because the next thing he noticed was his room was a lot darker.

Harry stretched slowly, one glance at the cat flap told him that Aunt Petunia hadn’t been up with dinner and that he wasn’t likely to be getting any. He crossed the floor to where the cupboard door was open. Even in the darking grey of the room Harry could see the sliver of light from the mirror inside the door.

He opened the door slowly and stared at his face in the mirror. “I’m adopted…” he mumbled. “This isn’t my real face.”

Even as he stood wondering what he really looked like under the deluxe potion, Harry could have sworn that his hair became darker. He stepped closer. Was his nose a different shape?

Harry’s reverie was broken by rather loud clanging on the metal bars Uncle Vernon had attached to his windows after the Masons’ incident. Spinning around on his heal Harry’s eyes darted towards the bars.

“Psst… Harry… this is a break out.”

Peering through the gloom Harry could make out the blurry form of Ron, Fred and George Weasley staring at him from the other side of the window. He felt a sudden rush of warmth towards the Weasley’s as he stumbled towards them.

“How did you…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “Are you crazy?”

The Weasley’s had brought with them a light blue ford, that had the ability to fly, in order to rescue him. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Don’t be stupid,” one of the twins scoffed. “We flew here didn’t we?”

“Will we get into trouble?” Harry said glancing nervously at the car. Things were never as they seemed in the magical world.

“Possibly.”

“Come on, Harry… we’re rescuing you. It ain’t natural for your uncle to keep you under lock and key,” Ron said, watching as Fred and George noisily worked on the iron bars by wrapping a chain around them.

“If the Dursley’s wake up I’m good as dead,” Harry muttered then added after a moment’s thought, “I think I’m dead anyway.”

Predictably there was trouble when the errant boys reached the Burrow. It dimmed the hilarity of watching poor Uncle Vernon, making a wild grab for Harry and tipping out of the window into Aunt Petunia’s Petunias. Harry always knew his uncle was an idiot; and the man had proved him right. Why on earth would one attempt to catch a boy they desperately did not want in the house? Harry would never guess.

“Where have you been?” Mrs. Weasley screeched coming around the corner and brandishing a rather thick looking wooden spoon. Ginny, Ron’s younger sister peered out behind her mother and her eyes wide and shining with anticipation. Harry was about to make a run for it, when the matriarch of the Weasley family turned to him. “Hello, Harry, how are you dear?”

“Er..”

“Lovely dear.” And before Harry could count to three she was back to chewing up her three boys. “Beds empty; car gone... what was I suppose to think?”

This was when Harry decided now would be a good time to tune out.