I don't own Harry Potter and I can't say I'm thrilled with the woman who does at the moment

Sorry for the delayed update. I had some stuff come up and then I honestly was stuck on figuring out what day and time an event in this chapter takes place and I've decided events may not be written strictly chronologically (POVs won't be out of order but some events in a different POV may occur before or later than the order in which the appear.

Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 4 September 1991

After returning to his dorm that night Harry was dying to take a shower. Once the Dursleys had allowed to take showers whenever he wanted, showers had become part of his ritual to de-stress. If he focused on the pressure of the water hitting the back of his head he was able to drive out his other thoughts. Whick, come to think of it, must have been a rudimentary way to practice Occlumency. The water pressure at Hogwarts could be adjusted to a near bruising force and Harry was eager to try to forget about his embarrassment with the Weasley situation and the likelihood that his letter to Madam Bones was likely to result in an uncovering of his past.

When he had asked Blaise if he was planning to shower tonight, Blaise had waved him off and said he would do it in the morning (this Harry knew to be a lie as Blaise had been getting up progressively later and later throughout the week). However, when he saw Nott gathering his toiletries and towel Harry decided to follow him so he wouldn't be alone.

He and Nott passed a couple of second years leaving the lower years' showers and when they entered they were the only two there. But as they were getting undressed two other students entered. Harry thought nothing of it at first but when he glanced their way he saw neither of them had any shower stuff and their wands were drawn.

"So…Potter," the one Harry thought was named Bletchley sneered, "We hear that a first year Weasley can beat you up. We'd like to give it a try ourselves."

Harry's stomach dropped. He stood there barefoot, wandless, and clad only in his boxers as the third years closed in on him. He met eyes with Nott who had paused in taking off his robe.

Nott looked away quickly, "Er, I'll just leave then," he said. He slipped his robe back on, gathered up his stuff and rushed out the room.

Bletchley and the other boy, Higgs, snickered.

Harry felt as if he was back in Little Whinging, being chased by Dudley's gang as everybody else looked the other way. Thoughts of the wider political situation in Slytherin and of consequences for any actions vanished from his mind, replaced with the single minded desperation to make it out of this in one piece.

"You shouldn't be in Slytherin," Higgs said, "You and your parents ruined so many of our parents' lives. People think you were strong enough to take down the Dark Lord? You can't even take a first year Gryffindor?" Higgs spat at him.

Harry was only listening with one ear as he tried to figure out how the fuck he was going to make it out of here still standing. He was wandless, practically naked, against two third years who would know enough magic to make this hurt. Possibly kill him if they got creative enough or carried away. Higgs had begun to approach him, standing nearly directly in between Harry and Bletchley.

Harry pretended to cower and back away from him. Emboldened, Higgs approached him continuing his rant. Harry had backed to the wall. Then he quickly braced himself against it and pushed off, leaping up at Higgs.

Higgs, who was mid-rant, was caught completely off guard and Harry tackled him sending the two tumbling to the floor.

"Diffindo!" Bletchley cast behind them.

The spell hit both Harry and Higgs cutting into their sides. Harry punched Higgs in the face with his right hand as he tried to grapple Higgs' wand away with his left. There was a satisfying crunch letting Harry know that he had broken Higgs' nose. Higgs' hand reflectively loosened on his wand and Harry was able to knock it away from him. Harry had felt a few more spells slice into him during the struggle.

Seeing that Higgs was subdued, Harry sprang up off of him and rushed Bletchley. Bletchley was wearing a peculiar expression that was a mix of hate-filled rage and fear.

"Impedimenta!" Bletchley cast and Harry felt as if ropes were pulling him backwards but he fought through it. Bletchley looked at him in terror. By then Harry was in range to grab Bletchley's wand hand and he used his grip to pull Bletchley towards the punch he struck across Bletchley's face. As Bletchley whimpered Harry twisted his wrist until Bletchley's wand clattered to the ground.

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?!" a voiced boomed in the room. Harry belatedly recognized it as Snape's.

The adrenaline rushed out of Harry and suddenly his knees were giving out under him. He tried to sink to the floor with as much dignity as he could muster. As he looked down at himself he realized he had been hit with more cutting curses than he had noticed and realized some of his light-headedness was due to blood loss.

While Harry took an inventory over himself Bletchley spluttered out a response, Harry's attention was distracted when Blaise shoved passed the students loitering in the doorway one of whom Harry was surprised to see was Nott.

"Sorry—I didn't realize—stupid of me, should've come with you," Blaise said, "You need to get you to the infirmary,"

Harry shook his head in protest not wanting the school or, God forbid, the Prophet catching wind of what happened.

Snape cleared his throat, catching their attention, "If you don't object, Potter, I would prefer to keep this matter in-house," Snape said as he cast a spell over Harry that actually drew some blood back into his body and sealed his wounds.

Harry looked at him grateful, "No objections, sir."

As the three were out to the common room (thankfully after Harry was permitted to put on a robe) Harry was surprised to see how many students were gathered there. He saw Daphne and Tracey white-faced and sent them a reassuring smile. The presence of so many students reminded Harry of the politics of the situation. He realized that with his robes on, he looked hardly any worse for the wear, certainly better than the other two who were nursing shiners. Harry kept his head high and did his best to look indifferent. Hopefully this would cause others to be more wary of attacking him in the future.

"This…incident," Snape said to the roomful of students, "will go no further than this room. It is in all of your best interests that this remains quiet."

Snape stared down the students until they nodded their acceptance. Then Snape escorted the three to his office though the passage that connected it to the common room. After healing Bletchley and Higgs, who were given three months of detention, Harry and Snape were alone. Snape had him shuck his robe off and began applying an ointment to his sealed cuts.

"Really Potter? I'm having to save your neck twice in one day?" Snape asked. Although Harry couldn't detect his usual sneer.

Harry did not feel this was an accurate characterization of what had happened. He hadn't needed Snape to save him, "Thank you, sir," Harry said instead.

"You have a month of detention, Potter."

Harry wanted to lash out at him about the unfairness of it all but he bit down on any response.

"You did not initiate either fight," Snape explained, "But the students in Slytherin who wish you ill would likely take issue with you if you didn't get in any trouble. Then things might escalate further," Harry supposed that could be true but he didn't have to like it, "Besides, you need to learn how to defend yourself with a wand."

Harry looked at him in surprise.

After applying the ointment to his cuts and even another kind to the bruises Harry had received from his fall earlier that day, Snape escorted him back to his dorm.

Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 5 September 1991

The next morning Harry reassured Daphne and Tracey that he was fine (the prefects had forced them back to bed and didn't allow them to wait up for him.) He and Blaise had grown closer after Blaise apologized half a dozen times for not following Harry's hint and accompanying him to the showers. Harry was also startled to learn that it had been Nott who had alerted the prefects to what was happening (although Nott warned on pain of death not to reveal that to anyone else). Harry was so used to people looking the other way when he got beat up that it hadn't even occurred to him that Nott could be getting help.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw a headline on the Daily Prophet at breakfast.

The Boy-Who-Lived, Attacked by a Fellow Student!
By Rita Skeeter

However, as he read further, he quickly realized it was about him and Weasley, not the upper year Slytherins.

As I promised my readers, I have kept my eye out for any more news on The Boy-Who-Lived. I received a shocking report from my sources detailing a fight Harry Potter was in with Gryffindor Ronald Westley. Apparently Westley attacked Potter during the middle of a Potions class!

Westley had reportedly warned Harry the day before that he would "get what's coming to him." Ronald Westley attacked Harry, throwing him to the ground. But do not be concerned dear readers! Harry managed to escape with minimal injuries! He reportedly stood right back up and allowed the professor to address the assailant.

I am sure all my readers are horrified to hear that our famous Boy-Who-Lived was attacked within Hogwarts and hope that the assailant is dealt with harshly. Hopefully no one else will dare attack Harry Potter again!

Harry nearly laughed at the irony.

At the Gryffindor table the elder Weasley brothers despaired at the article in the paper. They had made an unspoken agreement not to tell their mother what had happened, knowing it would end in a howler that would humiliate all of them. They looked at each other wordlessly deciding to be late to tomorrow's breakfast. None of them bothered to tell Ron but it was unlikely they could persuade him to be late for a meal anyways.

DMLE, Ministry of Magic, London, England 5 September 1991

Auror John Dawlish sat at his desk which sat kitty-corner to his partner's, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was filing out parchment work from an arrest they had made the day prior while Shacklebolt read The Daily Prophet. If you asked Dawlish he would say such actions amounted to a gross misuse of paid time, but indeed few people ever asked for Dawlish's opinions.

"Looks like schoolyard brawls are page 3 news these days," Shacklebolt commented putting the paper down.

Dawlish grunted acknowledgement. He had of course already read the paper, although he had done so over breakfast.

"This'll be a blow to the Light's effort to pass Weasley's Muggle Protection Act," Shacklebolt continued, "The Weasley name already had tarnished the bill. This won't help"

Unlike a majority of ministry workers, Dawlish did not preoccupy himself with considering the bills before the Wizengamot and the politicking that went behind passing them. He only concerned himself with doing his job as best as he could so he could earn his salary to support the family who had sacrificed so much for him.

Dawlish's situation was a bit unusual. He was the first of his family to attend Hogwarts and he didn't fall into the three usual categories: the nobility, the gentry, or the muggleborns. Dawlish was a pureblood but his family only owned a moderately successful trunk shop. Like the majority of wizarding Britain, the Dawlish family attended one of the smaller magical schools until they received their O.W.L.S. and then apprenticed under other members of their family.

The family shop had already been overstaffed considering it was supporting both his uncle's family and his own. John Dawlish was his father's second son and his uncle had three sons as well. With the possibility of the family shop being responsible for five or more households, the family quickly realized their shop wouldn't be able to sustain them all. John Dawlish had displayed an aptitude in magic far exceeding those of his cousins and siblings so their family decided to send him to Hogwarts to allow them all a better future. The family had to sacrifice greatly in the way of personal comforts to afford to do so.

Attending Hogwarts opened a lot of doors. Very few of the other magical schools taught passed the O.W.L.S. and, as such, any profession needing N.E.W.T.s was almost entirely out of the question. John Dawlish was always aware of the responsibility and expectations the family had placed on his shoulders and this affected how he approached his time at Hogwarts. He had been an unsociable, studious Ravenclaw and had proven himself when he had broken the record for Outstanding N.E.W.T.s.

Dawlish found the nobility and gentry's revulsion of the Weasley's family mind-numbingly stupid. Sure Arthur Weasley was strangely obsessed with muggles, but the hostility predated Arthur and seemed to be mostly due to their relative "poverty." Only the nobility and the outlandishly wealthy could think a head of a ministry department who could afford to send six, and what would likely be seven, children to Hogwarts could be considered impoverished. Arthur Weasley never had the nicest robes but Dawlish highly doubted his family ever had to worry about where their next meal would come from or whether they would have a place to live next month like many of the families Dawlish knew in his youth did.

Dawlish's introspection was cut short by Madam Bones' secretary requesting him and Shacklebolt meet Bones in her office.

Upon entering her office, Dawlish observed Madam Bones as wearing the same robes she had yesterday and looked as though she could not have slept more than two hours on the cot she technically was not permitted to transfigure in her office.

"Aurors Shacklebolt, Dawlish," she said, "I am assigning you to what may be one of the most high profile cases this department has seen in the last ten years. Before we proceed I need your assurances you will treat this case with your highest level of discretion."

"You have my assurance ma'am," Dawlish responded immediately. honestly he was slightly offended she needed to ask. It was department policy to keep investigations strictly confidential. Shacklebolt likewise assured her of his discretion.

Madam Bones handed them both files, "We are dealing with a potential 803-02," the department code for a child abduction of the second-degree, "the potential victim is Harry James Potter."

Shacklebolt let out startled noise and began to ask a question before Bones prompted them to read the files.

The first document was a copy of a letter sent to Bones by Potter. The next was a denied request for information concerning Potter's guardians, then the order to make Potter's guardian information confidential (filed by Albus Dumbledore), then a record of the sealing of the Potters' wills, excerpts from the record of the session that motion was filed which showed it to be initiated by Dumbledore, a denied request to access the will which noted that it expired November 1, 1986.

"Dumbledore's name seems to be popping up a lot," Dawlish commented.

"He is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Shacklebolt reasoned.

"At this time Mr. Dumbledore is a person of interest. I'm sure that won't be a problem, Mr. Shacklebolt," she told him rather than asked.

"No ma'am," Shacklebolt said, cowed.

Madam Bones continued, "Luckily Mr. Potter's address is still listed. Sign these papers and you'll be able to learn it."

They signed them and Dawlish could suddenly read the line that had been obscured on the page, 'Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England.'

"I would like you to go to Mr. Potter's address and attempt to make contact with his muggle guardians," Madam Bones finished.

Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England 5 September 1991

Dawlish and Shacklebolt walked down the street of the muggle neighborhood dressed in muggle suits and under heavy notice-me-nots. As they approached Number 4 Dawlish pulled out his wand to cast a diagnostic charm to identify any possible wards on the property.

He blinked in confusion at the results.

"What is it?" Shacklebolt asked.

"I don't recognize these wards," Dawlish said in disbelief.

"John Dawlish the Wise doesn't know something? Never thought I'd see the day," Shacklebolt joked.

Dawlish stopped himself from rolling his eyes, "This must be a highly advanced ward. The detection charms can't even determine whether its intent based, the exact perimeter or how it's being powered."

"Sounds above our pay grade. We'll have to tell Bones to bring in the Unspeakables." Shacklebolt shrugged, "Dawlish, nearly the whole time we've been here a woman in Number 7 has been peering out her window at us," Shacklebolt added as he had been assigned lookout.

Dawlish knew better from his training to turn and look, "We're under notice-me-nots."

"Exactly, she shouldn't be able to notice us unless she had a strong reason to be watching Number 4. Either that or she isn't a muggle."

"We can check the residency registry when we get back."

Unable to approach Number 4 due to its wards, the two began to head back to the apparition point near the park.

Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 5, 1991

The change in how the rest of the students treated Harry was remarkable. While only the Slytherins knew about his run in with Higgs and Bletchley, his fight with Weasley seemed to relax the students in the other three houses. They no longer shot him nervous or fearful glances. Some even smiled at him or tried to talk to him. Harry felt like he was getting whiplash. Slytherins seemed to respect him more as well (although that was certainly more to do with his fight with the upper year Slytherins than getting knocked to the ground by Weasley.) Even the teachers seemed to relax and no longer eyed him suspiciously.

During Transfiguration Professor McGonagall no longer looked quite so much like she had she had just bitten into a lemon when she looked at Harry. Harry decided to hang around after class to ask her about his father. He had decided that it might be a good way to endear himself to the professors if he asked them about his parents. Although, if he was being honest, his actions were compelled more by genuine curiosity than any favor-seeking.

"Professor?" Harry asked after the rest of the students had filed out of the room, "The other day you said my dad was good at Transfiguration. I was just- I was just wondering... would you be able to tell me more about him? Or my mum?" he asked shyly.

McGonagall's expression softened from its resting pinched look, "I only really knew your parents as students. They were both excellent students. Well, your father always had talent but became more successful once he stopped spending all of his time devoted to pranks. James was a chaser for Gryffindor's quidditch team, one of the best we've had in the past few decades. Both he and Lily became the Head Girl and Boy their seventh year. I didn't know them personally so I can't say much beyond that."

"Thank you, professor," Harry smiled at her. He made as if to leave but hesitated, "Is there anyone I could talk to who might know more about them?" he asked.

McGonagall thought of a moment, "Well if you want to find out more about your father you could talk to Hagrid. Your father and his friends always imposed on his company. Perhaps Madam Hooch. His only close friend who survived the war would be Remus Lupin," Harry repeated the names in his head to remember them, "For your mother you could talk to Professor Flitwick. I believe Lily was considering pursuing a Mastery in Charms," McGonagall's lips turned up in an ever so slight smile, "You could talk to Professor Snape as well. He was close friends with your mother."

"What?!" Harry asked before he could think better of it.

"Oh yes. Although they had a falling out during their last few years here so perhaps it would be best to leave that stone unturned."

"Thank you, again," Harry told her.

Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England 5 September 1991

Dawlish and Shacklebolt stood uncomfortably by as the newly recruited Unspeakable team examined Number 4 Privet Drive's perimeter. Unspeakables Croaker and Bode were in muggle clothing that would be more appropriate in the Victorian era and on a 1700s pirate ship, respectively. Neither Dawlish nor Shacklebolt were comfortable mentioning the inappropriateness of their dress to the Unspeakables so they just stood silently by praying to Magic their notice-me-nots were uncommonly strong.

There were no records of magical residents living on Privet Drive apart from Mr. Potter but their watcher at Number 7 was back. The curtain to Number 4 flickered open as well and Dawlish saw a thin blonde woman peering out at them.

"Blood wards," Croaker announced adjusting his tall black top hat, "Just shy of a decade old. Powered by magic of the residents and the love between the blood relatives. I wish Minett could take a look at these," he said to Bode, "The power of love? HA!" he scoffed, "No, these wards are being powered almost exclusively by the magic of one resident."

"I'm sorry, could you explain what all that means?" Dawlish asked, he had been trying to take notes to keep up.

Bode and Croaker started and looked over at them as if they were mildly surprised Dawlish and Shacklebolt were even there.

"The wards are blood-based, created by the blood of the resident themself... Mr. Potter I suppose in this case, or a direct blood parent," Croaker explained in a tone that suggested he thought Dawlish was a bit slow.

"Yes," Dawlish said having known that part, "But could you explain the part about it being powered by Potter's magic and not the... power of love?" Dawlish cringed as he said the last bit.

"Oh, now that's a more reasonable questions," Croaker stated bluntly, "The ward was likely intended to be powered by both the resident's magic and the love between them and their blood relatives but it appears there's likely no love lost there."

"Or there was an error in the ward casting," Bode added.

"I suppose there is a slight possibility," Croaker allowed.

"How large of a possibility?" Shacklebolt asked.

"In practice, for an error to be made in the casting but the ward to function well but from different sources? Negligible."

"But still interesting from a theoretical standpoint," Bode said.

"Dawlish almost sighed in frustration. This was why no one liked working with Unspeakables; they often lost sight of the practical in pursuit of the theoretical.

The door to Number 4 opened and the blonde woman peered out of the crack, "What are you two doing loitering out there?" she asked looking at Shacklebolt and Dawlish, "Shoo, off with you or I'll phone the police."

"Is it safe to enter the property?" Shacklebolt asked the Unspeakables.

The woman let out a shriek as Dawlish and the two Unspeakables shut their eyes in exasperation. Sine Shacklebolt had brought them to her attention, she was no able to notice the Unspeakables who looked like they were on their way to a fancy dress party.

"It's safe. The ward is intent-based," Bode said.

"FREAKS!" the woman shouted over him.

Shacklebolt cautiously approached pulling out his badge, "Hello ma'am were with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—" the woman slammed the door shut, "we would like to ask you some…" Shacklebolt trailed off.

"That went well," Dawlish said dryly.

Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 5 September 1991

An unnatural hush fell over the Great Hall during dinner when a large silver ghost-like feline flew through the door and flew up to the professor's table.

"A patronous," Daphne looking at it with minor awe. This prompted a discussion at the table of what exactly a patronous was.

Dumbledore was absent from dinner but following disappearance of the patronous McGonagall left the Hall after stopping by Snape to say something. Around ten minutes later Snape came to their table and approached Harry.

"Your presence has been requested by some visitors, "he grimaced, "I am to accompany you and supervise."

Harry got up and followed Snape (prompting several whispered conversations around the Hall). A heavy weight fell in Harry's stomach as he realized that the visitor might have been prompted by his letter to Madam Bones.

Harry was led to a room near the main entrance when he entered the room he saw two men in blue uniform robes and a woman.

"Hello Mr. Potter," she said, "I am Madam Amelia Bones from the DMLE and these are Aurors Dawlish and Shacklebolt. We would like to discuss the letter you sent me."

Harry shot Snape a look, "Can we do so privately?" he asked.

"We cannot interview minors without guardians present. While at Hogwarts, your head of house serves in loco parentis," she said, "May we interview Mr. Potter?" she asked Snape.

Snape consented. Madam Bones asked if Harry was willing to be interviewed and he agreed.

"These are the aurors I have assigned to your case. I have the highest confidence in them. Auror Dawlish will ask you a few questions," Madam Bones said motioning towards the white man to identify him as Dawlish.

"Good evening Mr. Potter," Dawlish said, "We are here to follow up on your letter reporting a potential abduction and magical guardian neglect."

Snape let out a strangled surprised noise. Harry shifted in his seat, studiously avoiding making eye contact with Snape.

Dawlish continued undaunted, "This quill," he motioned to a quill that was floating on its own and writing rapidly on a parchment, "is a dicta-quill. It will record everything that is said. It cannot record gestures and tones. Mr. Potter, Ministry records indicate you live at Number 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging in Surrey, England. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Who do you live with?"

"I live with Vernon and Petunia Dursley, they're my aunt and uncle, and my cousin Dudley," Harry said.

"How long have you lived there?"

Harry shrugged, "As long as I can remember."

"To your understanding, how did you come to live with your muggle relatives?"

"Well, um my aunt Petunia told me that they had found me in a basket on their doorstep one morning. Before the milk man arrived."

"Do you believe this account?"

"Yeah. It's something strange and Petunia seems to have dedicated her life to being as normal as possible. She invent something that sounded freakier than what really happened."

Harry saw Dawlish and Shacklebolt exchange glances. Something twisted in his stomach.

"We attempted to visit your relatives today," Dawlish said.

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Is your aunt thin and blonde-haired?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"She called us freaks and slammed the door in our faces."

Harry was almost bowled over with relief. They weren't on his relatives' side. He felt inexplicably light, "Yeah that sounds like her," he said.

"To be fair, out of the four of us there one was dressed like a pirate and another like a character from a Sherlock Holmes novel," Dawlish said.

Harry let out a startled laugh. He could tell Dawlish was fishing for information but Harry decided to trust them a bit, "Well, if she knew what you are it wouldn't matter to her what you were wearing."

"What do you mean?" Dawlish asked gently.

Suddenly making eye contact with Dawlish became too difficult Harry looked down at his hands, "You're wizards. She'd think you're freaks no matter what you wore."

There was a pause, "Harry, you're a wizard too. Does your aunt think you're a freak?"

Harry was suddenly overcome with the visceral terror of 'Oh God they're going to find out' but this feeling was paired with, and almost overwhelmed by, the elation of 'Oh my God I can tell someone and they will believe me.' Harry began talking.

"Yes she does. She hates me for it," Harry scanned the faces of the aurors and Madam Bones. He was reassured to see they weren't glaring or looking at him with disbelief.

"Do you think your aunt and uncle wanted you to live with them?"

Harry laughed, "God no. They made that pretty clear."

"How so?"

"They told so. Regularly. They said never wanted me, that I was a burden forced on them, that they considered sending me to an orphanage or out on the streets," they still looked like they believed him, "I had to 'earn my keep' so they made me do a lot of work."

"Harry, some Unspeakables took a look at the wards surrounding your residence," Dawlish said. Harry was confused by the non sequitur before Dawlish continued, "the wards are supposed to be powered equally by your magic and the love between you and your blood relations. In reality they are being powered almost exclusively by you."

Oh, the auror was saying that they believed him. No, not only that they believed him but that they knew he was telling the truth. Harry's relief was palpable. He felt practically weightless. He began to tell them everything. About the chores, the cupboard, Dudley's gang, the starvation, the photos. Once he started he felt as if he couldn't stop.

He could tell Madam Bones and the aurors were trying to maintain a professional decorum but Harry could see that listening to what had happened to him was making them angry. Not at him but for him. By the time he had gathered the courage to look at Snape the man looked catatonic.

After a long pause in which the adults in the room absorbed what Harry had said, Dawlish directed the conversation back towards Harry's absentee magical guardian, "Prior to attending Hogwarts who had talked to you about the wizarding world?"

"Just professor McGonagall."

"Has anyone contacted you claiming to me your magical guardian since you've been at Hogwarts?"

"No."

"Have you ever spoken directly with Albus Dumbledore?" Dalwish asked.

"Yeah actually. He called me to his office the first day of classes. Why does that matter?"

"It may not. But we need to pursue any lead we have," Dawlish didn't expand further. "Did Mr. Dumbledore talk to you about your guardians?"

"Yeah, kind of. Well he asked me in to try to make me move houses because Slytherin wasn't 'appropriate' but when Professor McGonagall visited she gave me a key to my vault at Gringotts. She didn't know why Hogwarts had it so I asked Dumbledore," Harry grew agitated as he recalled the meeting, "Dumbledore claimed that my parents had given the key to him to give to whoever raised me. He says he tried to contact the Dursleys to give it to them but that they didn't want to meet up with him."

Diagon Alley London, England September 5, 1991

Rita Skeeter smirked at the plebian writers in the staff room at the Daily Prophet. She worked freelance but had been called in by the Editor in Chief, Barnabas Cuffe. Likely to congratulate her on her recent Potter stories.

When she entered Cuffe's office she was unpleasantly surprised to see Albus Dumbledore sitting in front of Cuffe's desk looking far too pleased with himself.

"Rita," Cuffe began, "Mr. Dumbledore has taken issue with some of your recent articles concerning Mr. Potter and the happenings at Hogwarts," he shot her a look that said 'I'm sorry but my hands are tied here.' The useless man.

"Ms. Skeeter," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "While I understand the public's interest in Mr. Potter I'm afraid that the Prophet simply cannot publish every little escapade that goes on at Hogwarts. It interferes with teacher's abilities to maintain order and can lead to harm for the families that are involved for any silly action their teenaged child might take."

Rita had to endure 15 more minutes of Dumbledore's lectures, inquiries into her sources, and outlines of how he thought she should do her job. She wanted to strangle the man with his beard.

They came to an "agreement" on what could be published and Rita stormed out of the meeting. She had never liked Dumbledore and his transparent attempts at politicking and manipulation. A source had reported that there might be a promising story about all of Dumbledore's dirty secrets if you knew who to ask but Rita hadn't pursued it. No longer! She was going to find all there dirt there was to have on Albus Dumbledore and see how he liked being threatened into compliance!

Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 5, 1991

When Albus returned to the castle late that evening he was waylaid outside his living quarters by Minerva.

"Albus! The aurors were here earlier today. They met with Mr. Potter and—"

"You allowed this?" Albus cut her off. The aurors had talked to the boy! By Merlin, had the boy contacted them himself?

"Of course. I had Severus accompany them as he's Mr. Potter's Head of House," Minerva said.

Albus sighed internally. Why couldn't other people see how everything tied together and why certain things had to be done a certain way? He led Minvera up into his office so they could talk privately.

"Did the aurors say why they wanted to speak with Mr. Potter?"

"They said they wanted to ask him questions about a letter he had sent in. Albus, they said there was an ongoing investigation!" Minerva continued worriedly.

"I'm sure there is no cause for concern," Albus lied.

"…Albus," Minvera began hesitantly, "Do you think this could be about his guardians? I did tell you they were the worst kinds of muggles. They never told him about magic! We never should have left him there. Do you think I should tell the aurors? "

This was precisely how Albus was worried events would play out. Damn the boy! Now Albus would be forced to do some truly regrettable things, "You have no reason to worry Minerva," he said making a calming motion with his left hand as he adjusted his grip on the Elder Wand under the desk with his right.

"How can you say that Albus?"

"I'm so sorry," Albus said earnestly, "Obliviate!"

AN: The fight scene from the original story has been moved in the timeline and altered so its less "wow you really just reread Ender's Game, didn't you?"

So I'm departing greatly from the JKR approved expanded universe. One school in Britain (three is the entirety of Euroupe?) with around 40 kids/grade would not be enough to sustain the society in the books. Hogwarts is an elite school. Muggleborns attend for a variety of reasons I may lay out later.

Some of my favorite fantasy/sci-fi books explore themes in the real world and provide social critique. I don't pretend I'm on par with such authors but I'm going to do this in my story. Get psyched to explore themes of racism, classism, sexism, democracy, and abuse culture. I'm not sorry if you think this makes my story "too political"

By the way there will be explicitly gay characters