Hi! Please read and review! The premise of this story, is me answering a question I had about Harry Potter. What if a strong muggle character made a lasting impression and difference on Harry, would anything be different?

Here is my attempt to answer this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter…who'd a thunk it?

Former military Colonel Laurence "Wren" Crown frowned as he saw the Potter boy. It wasn't that he held a personal grudge against the child, but there was something off about him…a strange wariness that should not be present in a child of 13. Laurence was new to the neighborhood, and therefore had not truly believed the rumors about the boy. He hardly looked as though he were a miscreant, and his clothes proved nothing other than the fact that he wore hand me downs, most likely from his morbidly over weight cousin, Dudley Dursley. There was just something off…

Maybe it had to do with the fact that the Dursley family was fairly well off, and should therefore be able to provide the Potter boy with acceptable clothes, but they had clearly failed to do so. Or maybe it was the child's physique, which was reminiscent of a starved adolescent rather than the morbid obesity that was present in the Dursley men. With a hard and mean look to his face that was found only in those who had had far to little for far to long, the Potter boy was hardly of an appropriate weight for one of his age.

The fact of the matter was, that Laurence did not believe the Potter to be as trouble making as he was made out to be. In the months that he had known of the Potter child, Laurence had yet to see anything even reminiscent of his supposed behavior. As a firm believer in not judging before having all the facts, Laurence didn't care what preconceived notions he was supposed to have. Harry Potter, despite public opinion, was not a bad boy. He was wary, yes, and maybe he had reason to be.

Laurence hadn't appreciated Vernon Dursley mocking his house and the fact that his wife had left him (never mind the fact that his wife had died, not left him, as the whale had alluded to), and had also not appreciated Petunia Dursley sniffing down her nose at him and his messy lawn (he didn't know why, it wasn't as if she had spent a day in her own lawn, she just ordered her nephew about like a slave), and the wretched whelp, Dudley…

It was quite obvious to Laurence that the people on this street were judging the wrong member(s) of the Dursley/Potter family. The boy, whom he only knew as "Potter" had mown his lawn without having been asked or prompted to, had helped him bring his groceries in, with a quiet, but congenial enough air. It was by far, more pleasant than any of his encounters with the Dursley's had been. At 79, Laurence had put up with more than enough bull shit than he truly wanted to, and the treatment of Potter was just the icing on the cake. What did he care if he was considered a crotchety old man by the rest of the neighborhood? If Potter had had half the life he suspected him to have had, Laurence would gladly become the second pariah of Privet Drive to give Potter even a fraction of the happiness a child should have. Laurence would know. His alcoholic father, Harold, had been abusive and unpleasant all around, and no one had stepped up for him. So Laurence would do what he wished some one had done for him. He would be there for Potter.

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"Oi! Potter!"

Harry looked up in surprise. It was the new man on the street, Mr. Crown. He was a tall man, stooped slightly with age, his hair steel gray with silver mixed liberally throughout, and his eyes were a piercing hazel, only slightly clouded with age. He had a gruff exterior, from what Harry had seen, and a lonely and wonderful personality hidden beneath (Harry had seen him picking up an injured bird, and weeks later, he had seen Mr. Crown release the very same bird back into the wild, with a wistful smile upon his face.)

"Yes, Mr. Crown?"

"What's your name?"

"My name?" 'What? Was someone actually trying to get to know him?' thought Harry, incredulous at the thought.

"Yes, your name, boy. What is it?"

"…Harry, sir."

A strange look was in Mr. Crown's eyes when he said the following.

"Short for Harold, I'd expect?"

"Uh, yes…"

"Got a middle name, do you?"
This was getting stranger by the minute…

"James, sir…"

"I'll be calling you, Jay, then."

"Wait, what?"

"Deaf as well, then? I'll be calling you Jay, from here on out."

"…Why?"

"Nasty drunkard of a father was named Harold…nothing against your name, just the name brings about several unpleasant memories that I'd rather forget. James is far to formal, in my opinion, but still a good strong name. I'd give you another reason to call you Jay, but in truth, old age has made me slightly lazy."

Harry couldn't help but stare at the old man. Was Mr. Crown being serious? As far as Harry could tell, he was. "Jay?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Yes, Jay, I'm calling you Jay."

"…alright, then."

"My name's Laurence Crown, as I suspect you know. Call me Wren."

"Wren?"

"Yes, Jay, Wren. You might want to want to get your hearing checked out, the way you keep needed me to repeat everything, by the way."

As Harry spluttered, Wren hid a smile behind his hand while he cleared his throat.

"Well, then. Jay, you best not be telling the turds that you have the unfortunate luck to call relatives about this. I would think they wouldn't appreciate you talking to me, what with your miscreant ways, and all that." Wren smiled openly now.

"My doors always open for tea and sandwiches, if you'd like. By the by, I'm not some creepy old man (or so I'd like to think)…I'm just a wee bit lonely. You understand, right?"

Harry didn't really know how to feel. The one thing he'd wished for around here was coming true. A friendly face was in the neighborhood, other than Ms. Fig, who with her multitude of cats and cabbage smelling house was more than a little bit creepy and annoying. Wren…was an amazing discovery on this normally dismal part of his year. Away from school and friends, this crotchety old man probably didn't understand the full depth of what he was offering…or maybe he did?

"Jay. Don't think to hard. You don't have to analyze everything that happens. Good things do happen occasionally, rare though they may be. " a gruff cough punctuated Wren's sentence, and a bit of red on Wren's cheeks signified his embarrassment at actually coming close to talking about emotions. "Just go with the flow, and remember that even if it's a decrepit old man, you can always talk to some one."

"Well…must get going, lots to do, and all that…have a good day, Jay."

With that, Wren took off, leaning heavily on his crutch, whistling a happy tune.

"You, too…Wren…" whispered Harry, bemusedly. "Did that actually happen, or was it all a hallucination from working out side all day?"

"Ah well…guess I'll see."

A small smile was on Harry's face through the rest of the day, even when Petunia yelled at him for not completing all of his chores before sunset.

'I could be Jay', decided Harry, 'I could be some one new…'

The thought was tantalizing. No expectations, perhaps some tea and food, and best of all…company of someone with absolutely no ulterior motives. It sounded perfect.

"What do you think, Hedwig? Could I be Jay?"

Hedwig looked at him imperiously, hooting in what he perceived as affirmation. Mr. Crown, no, Wren, was maybe the instigator of a new feeling in Harry, one that he had not felt on Privet Drive ever before. It was acceptance. And it felt good.

Maybe he couldn't do magic until he went back to Hogwarts, but for the first time since the school year ended, Harry felt Happy.

\(*^*)/

Thank you for reading! This is my first Harry Potter story, and I would greatly appreciate constructive responses towards my story.

Thanks,

Quinn.