.

Chapter One

The Zoo Visit

Published 6/21/2015
Last Updated 8/21/2015

=ooo=

June 23, 1991—

"All right, we're here," Uncle Vernon said, as they pulled into the parking lot at the zoo. He turned to look in the back seat, where Dudley, his friend Piers Polkiss and Harry Potter were seated. "We're going to have some fun today, eh boys?" Vernon said jovially, smiling at the other two boys, then turned to Harry. His demeanor immediately turned gruff. "And you, boy — I don't want any trouble out of you today, d'you hear me?"

"No sir," Harry said.

"What's that? What's that?!" Vernon demanded.

"I mean, yes sir," Harry quickly amended.

It was amazing he'd gotten this far, Harry thought as he piled out of the car behind his cousin and Piers. His aunt and uncle had planned to leave him with their batty old neighbor, Mrs. Figg, whose house always stank of boiled cabbage and cat pee, and who talked incessantly about all the cats she'd ever owned, including showing him photographs of them in an old album. But she'd broken her leg and couldn't take care of him that day.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been frantic, trying to figure out what to do with Harry. Dudley had pretended to cry, trying to keep Harry from going to the zoo with them, but there was nothing else for it. Oh, Vernon had made it clear enough that Harry wasn't to do or say anything, absolutely nothing, weird or out of the ordinary while he was at the zoo with them! In Vernon's own mind he was completely justified in doing this.

Weird things happened around Harry sometimes. He wasn't trying to make them happen — in fact he had no idea why they happened. But they did.

Aunt Petunia, tired of his unruly hair, had once taken a kitchen shears and cut it so short he was almost bald. But the next morning his hair had grown back to its normal length. He'd spent a whole week in his cupboard for that, even though he couldn't explain how his hair had grown back so quickly. Another time his aunt had tried to make him wear one of Dudley's old sweaters, but the more she tried to force it on him, the smaller it became, until it would barely fit on a hand puppet. Amazingly, he wasn't punished for that, as Petunia thought the sweater must've shrunk in the wash. But he'd really gotten in trouble when, as Dudley and his gang were chasing him after school one day, he suddenly found himself on the roof of the school kitchen. The Dursleys had gotten a very angry letter from the school's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But Harry had no idea how he'd gotten on the roof. He supposed that the wind must've caught him somehow and thrown him up there.

It was a sunny day, and Vernon was already sweating as they entered the zoo. "Alright, boys," he said, taking out a kerchief and wiping his face dry. "What would you like to see first?"

"It's hot," Dudley complained. "I want some ice cream!"

"Me, too!" Piers agreed.

Harry started to open his mouth, but immediately thought better of it. The quickest way not to get something was to ask his aunt or uncle for it.

"All right then, we'll find some ice cream," Vernon agreed, and they were off in search of an ice cream parlor. A few minutes later they found a van selling ice cream out of it, and Dudley and Piers both ordered large cups of chocolate. Harry hovered to one side, watching the lady fill their cups with scoops of delicious chocolate, his mouth watering but knowing his aunt and uncle would hurry him away as soon as Dudley and Piers got their cups.

But then he had a bit of luck. As the lady handed Piers his cup, she turned to Harry and asked, "And what flavor would you like to have?" before they could hustle him away from the van.

Harry started to open his mouth to order a chocolate as well, but Vernon stepped in front of him. "Er — the boy is allergic to chocolate, I'm afraid. Sorry." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder to steer him away from the van.

"I have some nice ices," the lady called out. "Cherry, strawberry, or lemon."

"I like lemon," Harry said, before Vernon could say he was allergic to that.

Vernon shot him a furious look, but under the ice cream lady's inquiring gaze he reluctantly nodded. "A lemon ice for the boy, then. A small one." The lady squirted lemon flavoring on the ice and handed it to Harry, who smiled happily as he took it from her. Vernon's beefy hand dropped onto his shoulder, squeezing hard, and he was steered away from the van.

"Let's go in here," Vernon pointed to the gorilla house, just inside the main entrance. It was a bit cooler inside, which seemed to calm his uncle down a bit, Harry thought. He had been decidedly hot under the collar after buying Harry the lemon ice. He watched a gorilla scratching its head as Dudley and Piers stood laughing at it, thinking it very much resembled his cousin, though with black hair instead of blond.

The rest of the morning was okay. Harry walked behind and a ways apart from the Dursleys, reminding himself that if he was out of their sight they probably wouldn't be thinking about him much. It was also a good idea to keep himself away from Dudley and Piers; if they got bored they might resort to their old game of "Harry-hunting," and Harry wanted to avoid that if he could. True to form, by lunchtime the two boys were bored with looking at animals and wanted something to eat. Preferably ice cream again, though Petunia insisted they eat a proper meal in the zoo restaurant. In the restaurant Vernon ordered hamburgers and chips for himself, Dudley and Piers, while Petunia ordered a salad. Nobody asked Harry what he wanted to eat, which wasn't unexpected. After all, he wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place!

Harry watched hungrily as Dudley picked over his hamburger and chips, then ordered a knickerbocker glory for pudding. Piers wanted one as well. A tall glass filled with ice cream, whipped cream and chocolate syrup was set in front of Dudley, making Harry's eyes goggle. It looked too big to anyone to eat, even his cousin!

But Dudley was determined to have a go at it. He attacked the dessert, spooning mouthful after mouthful into his face, until it was nearly half gone. Then, "Wait a minute," Dudley complained. "There ought to be more ice cream here!"

Trying to forestall a tantrum, Petunia reached over, stroking Dudley's blond hair. "Popkin, we can have them make you another one with more ice cream." She looked desperately at Vernon. "Order another one. Have them make it right this time!"

Vernon called the waiter over and tried to bully him into making Dudley another dessert free of charge, but the manager appeared, pointing out that over half the dessert was already gone. Vernon complained loudly that he was being cheated, but he finally gave in and agreed to pay for a new one. When the second knickerbocker glory appeared, Dudley pushed the first one away and dug into the fresh one.

"Piers," Petunia asked the Polkiss boy. "Would you like to finish this one, too?" Piers, who'd been holding his stomach after eating his own dessert, shook his head and burped, looking queasy. Petunia stared at the half-finished dessert with a frown; she hated to waste food they'd paid for. "Vernon?" She pointed to the dessert, but he shook his head as well.

Finally, she turned to Harry. "Well," she said reluctantly. "I suppose you'll want to eat it, won't you?" Hesitantly, Harry nodded yes. "Alright, go on, then, but mind you don't make a mess!"

Harry nodded, reaching over and pulling the dessert in front of him. It didn't even matter that Dudley had ravaged the dessert before pushing it away — it was ice cream, after all. But Harry could feel Dudley's dull eyes watching him all the while he was eating the dessert. He was going to pay a price for eating it, he could tell.

After lunch they went to the reptile house, probably because Vernon had read in a zoo programme that it was kept much cooler than outside, and the noonday sun was becoming quite warm. There were all sorts of lizards and snakes kept there, all behind glass windows, all busily crawling and slithering over the wood and stones and rocks in their habitats.

Dudley and Piers were busy, too, tormenting Harry. No longer interested in the zoo animals, Dudley had decided to punish Harry for eating his dessert, even though his aunt had given it to him. They were pushing and elbowing Harry, knocking him down then telling his aunt and uncle that he had clumsily fallen. Not that Vernon or Petunia even realized what was going on — in their eyes Dudley could do no wrong, nor could any of his friends. The only thing going for him, Harry decided, is that there were only two of them rather than all of Dudley's gang.

Luckily, once they were in the reptile house, Dudley and Piers's interest perked up again. They went looking for the biggest snake in the building, and they found it — a huge boa constrictor with powerful looking coils. Dudley's pug nose pressed up against the glass, staring at the snake. "Come on, move," he told the snake. The snake, which looked like it was sleeping, didn't move.

"Make it move," Dudley ordered his father. Vernon leaned over and tapped on the glass. The snake still didn't move. "Do it again," Dudley said, but the snake slept on. "This is boring," Dudley moaned. He pushed Harry out of his way and moved to another window.

Harry watched him and his parents walk away, deciding not to follow. No use giving Dudley another opportunity to take out his frustrations on him. He looked at the snake again, feeling a bit sorry for it. Like him, it was locked up as it slept, with people rapping on his door to wake him up in the morning. Only this happened to the snake all day long. And it had only the one room, while Harry had an entire house to roam around in. Of course he also had to clean the house every day, under his aunt's watchful eye, so there was that to consider.

Harry leaned forward, putting his face against the cool glass to see the snake better. He was so engrossed in staring at it that he jumped when a voice very near to him said, "Fascinating, isn't it?"

Harry jerked back, turning and staring at the woman standing next to him who had spoken. She was a pretty blonde lady with a small child next to her, a little girl with hair as blonde as her own. "I'm sorry," the woman said apologetically. "I didn't mean to startle you, young man. Were you enjoying looking at the snake?"

Harry nodded. He finally found his voice again. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "I've never seen a snake this big before, not even in pictures."

"He is rather large," the lady nodded. She crouched down and spoke to the little girl next to her. "Would you like to see the snake, Electra?"

"Yes, Granma," the little girl said, lifting up her arms so her grandmother could pick her up.

"Alright, up we go, then," the woman said, picking her up. "My, you're getting big for Granma to pick you up!" She held the little girl in front of the glass.

The little girl rapped on the glass with her little fist, saying "Snake! Snake!" Harry said nothing, but thought that if Vernon hadn't gotten a response, a little girl wasn't about to, either.

But at that moment the snake suddenly opened its eyes. Its head moved slowly upward until it was level with the little girl's face.

It winked.

Huh? Harry thought. Had he really seen that? If the woman holding the girl had noticed anything, she only said, "Maybe we can get it to say something. How about it?" she said, seeming to address the snake directly.

The snake was motionless for a moment. Its head turned to Harry, then back to the little girl. "What do you want me to say?" Harry heard a raspy voice hiss. Harry looked quickly at the woman. Had she said that, trying to make the little girl think the snake had talked?

"Oh, anything you like," the woman said, smiling at the snake.

"Well, I wouldn't mind a nice, fat mouse and a day or so to digest it in peace," Harry heard the voice hiss again. What in the world was going on? Harry wondered, bewildered by what he thought he'd heard.

"It spoke," he said aloud.

"What?" the woman looked at him, surprised.

Harry pointed at the glass. "I heard the snake speak," he said. "You were talking to it, and it spoke back."

"Don't be silly," the woman said immediately. "Snakes can't talk, or understand what people say, can they?"

"I didn't think so until now," Harry said. "But you—"

"MR. DURSLEY! DUDLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE!" Piers, who'd crept up behind them, suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. "YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

"Oh my stars," the woman muttered, standing up and backing away from the window with the little girl in her arms as Dudley came waddling over at top speed. With his vast bulk between Harry and his parents, Dudley punched Harry in the ribs, knocking him down. The wind knocked out of him, Harry scuttled back out of reach as Dudley and Piers pushed their faces right up against the glass, yelling at the snake to do it again. Pressing his hand against the pain in his side, Harry stared up at them, wishing they would fall in.

The next moment, he almost got his wish.

Dudley and Piers both jerked forward as the glass window suddenly vanished. Both boys howled in terror and leaped back, pointing in horror at the snake, which began uncoiling itself and slithered out onto the floor.

The reptile house was in instant chaos as everyone suddenly realized a large snake was loose. People began screaming and running for the exits. Vernon and Petunia grabbed Piers and Dudley (but not Harry) and dragged them back as the snake emerged from its habitat. As it slithered past Harry, the snake turned its head toward him, and Harry heard the hissing voice say, "Thanks, friend, and tell that little girl 'Hi' for me… Brazil, here I come!" As Harry watched, speechless, the snake left the reptile house.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "What happened to the glass?" he kept asking, of nobody in particular. He was running back and forth between Petunia and Dudley, both of whom were nearly fainting from fear. Dudley insisted the snake had tried to bite off his leg, and Petunia had become hysterical just thinking about that. Harry, forgotten in the immediate aftermath, had moved in to a dark corner and stayed there, hoping to go unnoticed until everyone had calmed down.

"Can you hear me?" a by-now familiar voice suddenly said, next to him. Harry looked over, seeing the same blonde woman he'd seen earlier, and the little girl with her.

Harry nodded at her. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "I was kind of hoping nobody could see me here."

"So you can see me, too?" she asked, softly. Harry nodded.

"Interesting," the woman said. "May I ask your name?"

"It's Harry Potter, ma'am," Harry said.

The woman nodded toward Vernon and Petunia. "Are they your parents?"

Harry shook his head. "They're my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," he told her. "The blond boy is my cousin Dudley. The other boy is a friend of his, Piers Polkiss."

"Are you visiting them?" the woman asked in a kindly voice.

"No," Harry said. He hesitated a moment, but the woman had such a friendly face and voice… "My parents are dead. They were killed ten years ago in a car crash."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said. She crouched down and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry flinched involuntarily; normally the only human contact he had was his aunt poking him awake in the morning and getting pounded on by Dudley and his gang. "You're shaking," the woman said.

"Sorry," Harry said, looking down in shame. He had to admit, the woman's arm on his shoulders felt warm and comforting. He couldn't remember ever feeling that way before.

"Don't be sorry," the woman said. "You have nothing to be sorry for. My name is Samantha Stephens." She put her other arm around the little girl standing next to her. "This is my granddaughter, Electra. She wanted to come back and make sure you were okay."

"Really?" Harry looked at the little girl. "Thank you," he said to her. "It was nice of you to think about me." She smiled up at him. Harry noticed her eyes; they were as green as his own. He looked at the woman again, seeing now that they were eye-to-eye that her eyes were green as well.

The woman must have realized what he was staring at. "You have green eyes, too," she said, smiling at him. "They're the same shade of green as mine." She suddenly looked thoughtful. "I wonder…"

She didn't go on. "Wonder what?" Harry finally asked.

"Never mind," the woman said distractedly. "Is it alright if I come see you again sometime?" she asked, an intense look on her face.

"Um, sure," Harry said. "But how are—"

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's voice suddenly rang out through the reptile house. "Where the devil are you?!"

"That's my uncle," Harry said, looking around to see where he was. "I better go —" But when he looked back the woman and little girl were gone. He hadn't even heard them leave.

"Let's go!" Vernon bellowed. "We're leaving!" In the car on the way home Aunt Petunia, Dudley and Piers were all gibbering incoherently about what had happened. According to Piers, the snake had tried to squeeze him to death, and Dudley maintained that it had almost taken his leg off. As far as Harry could remember, the snake had nipped playfully at their heels as it passed them on the way out of the reptile house. The keeper had given them all tea to calm them down. Vernon, fed up with everyone's crying and whining (as well as not wanting to pay for the tea) had gathered them all up and quick-marched them out to the car, where he drove straight to Piers's parent's house to drop him off.

Everyone was calmer by the time they reached the Polkiss home. Piers got out of the car, said goodbye to Dudley, then turned to Vernon and said, "Harry was talking with the snake. Weren't you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged like he didn't know what Piers was talking about. Vernon just laughed. "Well, that sounds like something the boy would do, doesn't it?" Piers shrugged, walked up to his house and went inside.

Vernon then gave Harry a glare that might have made him burst into flame, turned around in his seat and drove home in silence. At the house, as soon as they were inside, he grabbed Harry by the collar. "Go — cupboard — stay — no meals," he managed to sputter, so furious he could barely speak. He pulled open the cupboard and pointed inside. Harry reluctantly went in, and Vernon slammed the door closed.

Harry lay there in the dark for hours, wishing he could tell what time it was. He had to wait until the Dursleys were asleep before he dared leave the cupboard to find something to eat in the refrigerator. Finally, he thought he heard a faint snore coming from his aunt and uncle's bedroom. It was probably safe to proceed.

The knob to the latch was on the outside, but Harry had a piece of cardboard he used to work the bolt open. He pushed the cupboard door open, going very slowly so it wouldn't creak. He should try to find some lubricating oil to use on the hinges, but food was the bigger priority at the moment. Creeping into the kitchen, Harry carefully opened the refrigerator and considered his options.

There usually wasn't a lot of food in the refrigerator that he could safely take. Both his uncle and Dudley ate a lot of food, so there wasn't always much in the way of leftovers. Sometimes the only thing Harry could do was find a few pieces of bread and spread butter on them to keep his stomach from cramping with emptiness.

This time, however, there was a plastic bowl with some salad makings in it, and that was better than nothing. There was no salad dressing in the bowl, so he'd have to go without as well. No use giving Aunt Petunia any clues that he might be making midnight visits to her precious refrigerator. An idea came to him, and Harry heaped some of the lettuce, carrots and onions from the bowl onto a slice of buttered bread, then covered it with another slice, making a sandwich of sorts. He pulled a glass out of the kitchen cupboard and ran a trickle of water into it from the sink until it was almost full. His midnight meal complete, Harry put everything in the kitchen back the way it had been and snuck back down the hall to toward the cupboard.

As he started to reach for the door a tall female form was suddenly in front of him. Harry jerked away in surprise, falling on his backside, dropping the salad sandwich and spilling most of the water as he covered his mouth to stifle the gasp of surprise that threatened to spill out of him.

"Here you are," the blond woman's familiar voice said softly. "I thought you'd be in one of the upstairs bedrooms — oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, realizing he'd fallen. "I didn't mean to startle you again!"

"Shhh!" Harry hissed. He pointed up the stairs. "They'll hear you!" he whispered urgently.

"Don't worry," the woman told him. "They can't hear either of us, I've seen to that." Harry shook his head, confused. How could she keep them from hearing us? he wondered to himself.

The woman looked at the half-open cupboard door. "Were you going to hide in here while you ate your sandwich?" she asked, opening the door wider to see what was inside. "Oh, my word," she gasped softly.

Inside the cupboard was the rude bed Harry had made from torn blankets and sheets. The shelves built into one of the walls had a number of items stacked on them: bits of string, a marble, a jack, a half-used eraser Harry like to play catch with. Scattered on the floor were various old shirts, pants and socks, all cast offs from Dudley's younger days. "Harry," the woman said, in a shocked tone. "Is this where you sleep?"

Harry didn't want to admit it, but— "Yes," he said.

"How long have they made you sleep here?" the woman asked him.

Harry shrugged. "As long as I've lived here. About ten years." Sensing some kind of judgment on her part, he added, "It's not so bad once you get used to it."

"Not so bad?" The woman — Mrs. Stephens, Harry finally remembered her name — stared at him in disbelief. "Harry, you shouldn't be living in a cupboard!" She shook her head. Harry could somehow feel a growing anger in her. "Well, that's enough of that!"

What did she plan to do? Harry began to panic. "Please don't say anything," he pleaded with her. "I don't know what my uncle will do if you say anything to him!"

"Harry, no one should be treated like this," Samantha told him. "I have to do something about this! Especially now that I know who you are."

Harry looked confused. "Who I am?" he asked. "I'm — I'm just — Harry Potter."

"Well, you are Harry Potter," Samantha said, smiling at him. "But you are also my third cousin, 23 times removed, descended from a marriage between my father Maurice and a woman named Marjory FitzStephan, who were married for a time in the early 11th century, before he met my mother, Endora."

"Oh," Harry said, understanding almost none of that. "Okay. But I don't know what all that means," he admitted.

The woman, Samantha, smiled at him. "What it means is that I went to the Book of Ancestry and traced your family, the Potters, back to the Peverells, who came to England in 1066 A.D. during the Norman invasion. One of the Peverells, named Ignotus, met a FitzStephan woman who'd descended from my father, and they married. Since then our family lines have been intertwined down through the centuries."

Harry was shaking his head uncertainly. "I still don't get it," he said, honestly. How was it possible to know all that stuff?

"Well, what it all comes down to is this: you have warlock blood in your veins," Samantha told him. "That means you're a warlock."

Harry just stared at her. "I'm a warlock," he finally repeated. "That's like, some kind of magician, right? You mean that I can do magic?"

"I believe so," Samantha nodded. "Do you know if you've ever done any magic, even by accident?"

Harry told her about some of the weird things that had happened to him: his hair being cut and growing back in one night, the sweater shrinking, and somehow ending up on the roof of the school. "That sounds like accidental magic," Samantha nodded. "Well, I'm convinced."

"I'm not sure I am," Harry said, still not understanding. "I mean, I can't make anything happen when I want it to. It just — happens. I can't control it."

"That's not unusual," Samantha said. "You've been living with mortals for the past ten years, you haven't had any contact with other witches or warlocks. I expect your powers are very weak right now."

"So I have magic powers?" Harry asked. The idea was hard to grasp. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Samantha said. "Listen," she said urgently. "I don't want to leave you here tonight. We're going to pack your things and you're coming with me. Where do you keep your stuff?"

Wordlessly Harry pointed to the cupboard. "Oh my stars," Samantha shook her head. "Alright, then, let's get you something to put your stuff in." She made a gesture at the floor between them, and suddenly a suitcase appeared!

"Wow," Harry whispered, looking at the suitcase in awe. "How did you do that?!"

"Never mind that now," Samantha said quickly. "Let's get your stuff packed — here, I'll take care of it." She made a come-here gesture toward the cupboard, and the things inside started moving.

His clothes and trinkets were flying through the air, landing in the suitcase as they folded and arranged themselves in neat, ordered stacks. Harry watched in amazement as the suitcase filled up in seconds, topped off with the sheets and blankets that comprised his bed folding into neat stacks on top of his clothes. Samantha then made a twitching motion with her nose and the suitcase folded itself shut. Glancing at the spilled water and sandwich on the floor, she twitched her nose at them as well. The glass, water and sandwich promptly disappeared.

"All set," she said, smiling at him as she stood again. Harry stood as well, looking at her and the suitcase, unable to speak. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Are we really leaving?" Harry asked. He'd dreamed many times in the past that a long-lost relation would show up one day and take him away from this. Now that it was happening, it seemed too good to be true. "You're not tricking me?"

"I'm not tricking you," Samantha said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Once again, human contact that wasn't hurting him felt good. Samantha made a V with two fingers and put them on either side of her nose. "Witches' honor," she said.

Harry nodded; he couldn't think of anything to say. He was going to be free of the Dursleys! Finally, he spoke. "Thank you," he said, gratefully.

"You're welcome," Samantha smiled. "Now we should be on our way. I'll have to explain this to Darrin. He's my husband, by the way," she added, for Harry's benefit.

"What about my aunt and uncle?" Harry asked.

"Don't worry," Samantha told him. "I'll come back later and have a word with them." Under her breath she added. "And they are not going to like what I have to say to them." Aloud, she said, "Hang on, Harry."

Harry looked around, wondering what he should hang on to, when Samantha made a flourish in the air with one hand and they abruptly vanished from Privet Drive. He would never set foot in the Dursley house again.

=ooo=

It was Sunday morning, golf day, and Darrin Stephens had just put his clubs in the back of his new SUV when Samantha and a young boy with unruly black hair appeared in their garage. This, by itself, wasn't that unusual. Since he and Sam had retired to Florida after he'd sold his interest in McMann, Tate and Stephens to his son-in-law Michael, he'd become more relaxed about his "no-magic" rule. Especially since it was a lot simpler and easier for Sam to zap them up to Connecticut to visit their daughter Tabitha, their son Adam, and especially their granddaughter Electra, Tabitha's five-year-old daughter.

"Hi honey," Darrin said, giving his wife a peck on the cheek in greeting. He smiled at the boy with her. "Who's our little visitor?"

"Darrin, I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter," Samantha said. "Harry, this is my husband, Darrin Stephens."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," Darrin said, offering his hand. Harry took it and they shook hands. When the boy didn't say anything Darrin commented, "You're awfully quiet, Harry. Cat got your tongue?" He looked up at Sam. "Is he one of our neighbor's kids?"

Samantha's smile was a little nervous. "Not exactly," she said, carefully. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders. "He's a little shy, though."

In truth, Harry was scared speechless. He'd been in the hallway of Privet Drive only moments before, then felt something like a great wind blowing him along, and now he was here, in a garage, with a woman he'd just met hours ago and a man he didn't know at all. He wasn't afraid of them — he sensed the woman's compassion and good-naturedness, and he believed in some way they were related, like she'd said. But everything else he'd learned tonight was just too strange, though he had to admit that magic would explain all the weird things that had happened to him over the years.

"I met him at the London Zoo yesterday," Sam went on, wincing a bit as Darrin's eyes widened upon hearing that.

"At the zoo?" Darrin's expression turned suspicious. "In London? So what's he doing here?"

"Well, Harry and I happened to meet when Electra and I were in the reptile house," Samantha explained. "She wanted to go there talk to the snakes —" Darrin's eyes bugged out again "a—and Harry heard us talking and he could understand what the snake was saying as well. Well, only witches and warlocks can understand what animals are saying, so I wanted to find out more about Harry, and I discovered that he was related to me. So I went back and —"

"Okay, okay, I can figure out the rest," Darrin interrupted her. "But that doesn't explain what he's doing here, in Florida!"

Harry started. "I'm in Florida?" he asked, surprised. "That's in America, right?"

"It was the last time I checked," Darrin said stiffly, still giving Sam an expectant look. "So what's going on —?"

"I'll explain everything, sweetheart," she said quickly. "But first, let me get Harry something to eat. He hasn't had anything in a while." She quickly led Harry through the garage into their house and the kitchen. The eggs, bacon and toast she'd cooked for Darrin that morning were still on the kitchen table, though they had gone cold. "I can make you some more bacon and eggs," she said. "How would you like them?"

"Uh, fried, I guess," Harry said. But he was already eyeing the eggs on the table hungrily. "I can eat these," he said, pointing at them. "I don't mind if they're cold."

"No, I'll cook some hot and fresh for you," she insisted. "You don't have to eat cold food."

"It's okay," Harry said. "I eat cold food from the refrigerator all the time."

"Harry," Samantha said compassionately. "You don't have to eat cold food, you're not at your aunt and uncle's house now." She twitched her nose and the food disappeared from the table. Harry goggled seeing it vanish in front of his eyes. He looked so disappointed and hungry that Samantha's heart broke a little.

"I know it's been a while since you've eaten," she said softly. She glanced toward the door leading to the garage. "Don't tell Darrin about this, okay?" she asked. Harry looked back at the door, then nodded agreement.

She gestured toward the table and a plate of cooked eggs appeared in front of him, followed in short order by a plateful of bacon and sausage links, and a plate covered with slices of buttered toast. An empty plate appeared in front of him with a knife, fork and spoon set out next to it, and there were cold glasses of milk and orange juice in front of him as well. Harry started to shake his head in disbelief, but in truth he was too hungry not to believe — he just wanted to tuck into that food! He looked up at Samantha for permission to eat.

"Dig in," Samantha said. "I'll be right back." She went back outside to where Darin stood next to his SUV, waiting impatiently for her return.

"Darrin," she said quietly, so Harry wouldn't hear. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Harry, but the people he was staying with — they were abusing him!"

"Abusing him?" Darrin began to look angry. "How?"

"They weren't feeding him properly," Sam said. "You saw how thin he was. And his aunt and uncle were making him sleep inside a cupboard! Can you believe that?!"

"What happened to his parents?" Darrin asked.

"They're gone," Samantha said. "He said they were killed in a car crash ten years ago." That wasn't the truth, but Darrin didn't need to hear right now that Harry's parents had been killed by some crazy wand-wizard named Voldemort.

Samantha had learned quite a bit about Harry's background in the time since she'd returned from the London Zoo with Electra. She'd traced Harry's parentage in the their family's Book of Ancestry, learning that the Potter family traced its roots back to another family, the Peverells, and from there back to the FitzStephans and to her father, Maurice, who'd married Marjory FitzStephan, a wand-witch, in the early 1100s and had a boy and a girl by her. Both children had been unable to use magic, either their kind or wand, and Maurice, in anger, had left Marjory, dissolving the marriage. But both children had inherited the ability for magic and in the girl's case, she married a Peverell and bore him several children, all witches and wizards. The boy grew to adulthood and had children of his own, carrying on the FitzStephan line, which eventually became the Stephens family name, as well as branching off into another line, the Evans. Samantha traced that line down to Harry's mother, Lily Evans, showing that she and Harry were related on both the Potter and Evans family sides. It was entirely possible that he was a distant cousin of Darrin's as well.

"Poor kid," Darrin said sympathetically. Then he realized what his wife might have in mind. "Samantha, you're not planning to have him stay here, are you?"

"Well," Samantha said, in a whiny tone of voice. "Just for a little while, sweetheart, please, until I can figure out something more permanent!"

"Well," Darrin sighed. "I suppose it's okay for a while. If it's not permanent, Sam." He pecked her on the cheek. "Now, I'm off to my golf game. I've got a 10 a.m. tee time with Larry and his friends Bill and Ed."

"Oh, about that," Sam said quickly, before he could get into his SUV. "I just have one more teensy little favor to ask," she said, cajolingly. She had something to take care of after he left and she didn't want to leave Harry alone.

"What's that?" Darrin asked, fearing the worst.

"Can you take him with you to your golf game?" Sam begged.

"Sam!"

"Please, Darrin? Please, please, please?"

Darrin sighed. "Alright, fine, he can come with."

Samantha leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth. "Thank you, honey! I'll go get him!" She ran into the house, then came back out a second later. "It'll be just a minute, sweetheart! He's almost done eating!"

Darrin rubbed his forehead in frustration, wondering how late he was going to be to his game. But it wasn't two minutes before Harry was buckled into the passenger seat of Darrin's brand-new Ford Explorer and the two of them were backing out of the garage, heading for the country club.

"Good," Samantha said to herself. Her expression hardened. "Now to go have a talk with those people." With a sharp gesture of pent-up anger she vanished.

=ooo=

Vernon and Petunia Dursley's bedroom was on the first floor of number four, Privet Drive, toward the front of the house. The largest bedroom upstairs, it had a mahogany four-poster bed, with a canopy and drapes for privacy, though they hadn't been used in years. There were two wardrobes — one for Vernon, one for Petunia, and a table where Petunia put on her makeup every morning before going out to chat with Mrs. Next Door, her neighbor, who always remarked how nice she looked. Someday Petunia would have to find out what her real name was.

It had been a long day at the zoo, and both of them had turned in after Vernon had caught the news that night, wincing as the incident at the zoo was reported. The newsman giving the report had interviewed the keeper of the reptile house, who'd described how the glass in the snake's cage had mysteriously disappeared. "If they only knew," Vernon had muttered, glad they'd left before anyone thought to talk to them! With his luck the ruddy Polkiss lad would have mentioned the Boy, and they'd have their foot in it for sure!

In bed, Vernon had given Petunia a perfunctory peck on the cheek, then rolled over and promptly fell asleep, snoring. Petunia put in her ear plugs so she could sleep without listening to her husband's snoring, then rolled over and fell asleep as well. Tomorrow would be a Sunday, and she would wake the Boy up and have him make them all breakfast. That and the work he did around the house was the only thing that made it worthwhile to keep him here anyway…

"Rise and shine," a woman's voice intruded upon Vernon's sleep, jarring him half-awake. "This is your wake-up call. Rise and shine!"

"Petunia," Vernon grunted. "What are you doing? It's the middle of the ruddy night! Petunia!" He rolled over to look at his wife. But she was still asleep, softly snoring.

"It's not her, it's me," the woman's voice said, and Vernon turned to look toward the foot of his bed, then came up out of the covers with a shout. A strange woman was standing in the middle of their bedroom!

"What the devil?!" Vernon shouted, reaching under his bed to pull out a cricket bat he had last used decades ago. He hefted it menacingly, threatening the woman who faced him with a cold, angry expression on her face. "Who the ruddy hell are YOU?" he shouted at her. "Get out of my house before I—"

"Settle down," the woman cut him off. "And put that bat away before you hurt yourself."

"I'm warning you —!"

"Very well," the woman said, snapping her fingers. The feel of the bat suddenly changed in Vernon's hands and he turned to look at it.

He was holding a bat, a live bat, in his hands! "Yow!" Vernon shouted, dropping the bat, which began fluttering about the room. Petunia, finally stirred awake at his shouts, muttered, "What are you shouting about, Vernon?"

"P-Petunia," Vernon gasped hoarsely. "There's someone here!"

"I didn't hear the doorbell," Petunia complained, pushing herself to a sitting position. "Who is —" she finally saw the woman standing in front of them, and screamed.

The woman was dressed in a long, black robe that appeared almost amorphous in nature — she was not so much wearing it as she was surrounded by it. She looked young and pretty, with blond hair. Her expression, however, was not so pretty — she was glaring at both of them.

"You are Harry Potter's aunt and uncle, are you not?" she said to Vernon. "Your wife, Petunia Evans Dursley, is Lily Evans' sister, who married James Potter in 1978. They had Harry on July 31, 1980 and in 1981 they were killed on Halloween night in their home by someone calling himself 'Lord Voldemort.'" Sam had used the Book of Ancestry and articles in various papers from around Britain, including the inaptly named Daily Prophet, which hadn't even printed anything about the couple's death until November 3, 1981, three days after the event. It had taken her an entire day to piece all this information together, until 8:30 Sunday morning back in West Palm Beach, Florida, where she knew Darrin would be getting reading for breakfast before heading off to his weekly golf game with Larry Tate and his buddies. She had popped home to make him a quick breakfast, then traveled back in time 12 hours, to two a.m. Sunday morning in Surrey, to talk to Harry about what she'd discovered. That was when she discovered how badly the Dursleys were treating him. She'd quickly gotten him out of there, leaving Harry with Darrin so she had come back once again and confront his aunt and uncle over the way they'd been abusing him. Did these people think she wasn't going to do something about that? "You lied to Harry about how his parents died. They weren't killed in a car crash — they were murdered by a wizard named Lord Voldemort!"

"So?" Vernon blustered, trying not to appear afraid. In truth he was very, very afraid. He'd been worried, all these years, that they would someday track the Boy to their home. "If it's the Boy you want, take him and leave!"

"I already have," the woman said. "He's safe, now — you'll never be able to abuse him again!"

"Abuse him?" Vernon growled. "We did the Boy a favor, letting him live here with us, if you ask me!"

"Vernon," Petunia said warningly.

"Quiet, Petunia!" Vernon snapped at her. "It's about time I told these people off!" He jabbed a beefy finger toward the blonde intruder. "Ever since you left him on our doorstep ten years ago, we've kept him in our house, looked after him, fed him and clothed him, sent him to school, and what thanks did we get for doing all that? None! If you lot hadn't abandoned him all those years ago he wouldn't be where he is today! Instead of coming in here and frightening us— er, my wife, you ought to be thanking us for everything we did for him!"

"Vernon," Petunia whispered desperately. "She's not the one who left Harry here. Professor Dumbledore did that."

"Well, how am I supposed to know that, Petunia!" Vernon exploded. "She didn't introduce herself when she invaded our ruddy bedroom!"

"Sorry about that," the woman said, not sounding sorry at all. "My name is Samantha Stephens. Harry is a distant cousin of mine, so I'll be taking responsibility for him from now on."

"Well it's about damn time!" Vernon snapped brusquely. He waved his hand in dismissal. "Now that you've got the Boy, you can just clear out of here!"

But Samantha didn't move. "I have a few more things to ask you before I go," she said, curtly. "What's Professor Dumbledore got to do with Harry being here?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Petunia said timidly, "is the Headmaster of the school my sister Lily went to when she was little. He left the boy on our doorstep. We found him there the next morning. Hold on." Petunia slipped out of bed, going over to her wardrobe. She reached inside and took out a small box, bringing it back to her bed. Taking off a necklace that held a single small key, she opened the box and took out a parchment envelope. Holding it as far from herself as she could, she offered it to Samantha, who held out her hand. The envelope suddenly left Petunia's hand, who jerked back like the envelope had burned her. Vernon and Petunia watched in horror as the envelope floated into Samantha's hand. Samantha read the words written on the front:

Mrs. Petunia Evans Dursley
The Largest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

"This is from Professor Dumbledore to you, I presume?" Samantha asked, looking at Petunia. Petunia nodded, so frightened she couldn't speak.

"I thought I told you to burn that letter!" Vernon demanded, but neither woman paid him any attention. Samantha took a letter out of the envelope and began reading.

November 1, 1981

My Dearest Petunia,

I hope this letter finds you well. The last time we corresponded were under less than pleasant circumstances — I hope you have forgiven me for being unable to allow you to attend Hogwarts with your sister Lily. It is unfortunate that you did not inherit the same inclinations toward magic that she did.

I am afraid that I have graver news still ahead. Your sister and her husband James have met with a tragic fate — I am sorry to have tell you that they have passed on, the victims of a madman who calls himself Lord Voldemort. I offer you my sincerest condolences for your loss. To this I can add only a few glimmers of good news: their murderer has himself been vanquished, and he has fled Britain, his powers destroyed, perhaps forever.

Another happy fact I am able to impart to you, as you may have already guessed. James and Lily's son Harry is alive and well, and no doubt you have found him nestled amongst the blankets in the basket where this letter was placed. No one on James' side of the family still lives — you are his only relatives. I ask that you take young Harry into your home and care for him as if he were your own son, just as your sister Lily would have done were you and your husband to meet an untimely fate.

I do have another reason for doing this, Petunia, which makes it important that you accept Harry into your home. Lord Voldemort still has followers in Britain, and those followers would seek out young Harry in order to wreak terrible vengeance on him, if they could but find him. When your sister died, she placed a spell on Harry that would prevent her murderer from harming him. As her sister, I have extended that protection to include your blood as well. As long as Harry can call your house his home, as long as you give him bed and board, that protection will remain in place, shielding him from his enemies. I request that you do this in memory of your sister.

When the time is ripe someone will come to bring Harry back to the Wizarding world and to the people who will have idolized him from afar for many years. But a child such as Harry needs a proper upbringing, not the adulation of a nation — the third reason I have left him in your care.

If you should find yourself in need of contacting me, please let your neighbor Mrs. Figg know that you wish to speak to me, and I shall visit you as soon as I am able. Until then, I remain,

Your servant,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Samantha looked up after finishing the letter. "This letter is dated November first. Are you saying Dumbledore left Harry overnight on your doorstep in November? The temperature must have been freezing! What was he thinking?"

"That's what I said!" Vernon said roughly. "What idiot would leave a child on a doorstep overnight on such a cold night?!"

"What idiot would refuse food to a small boy and make him sleep in a cupboard at night?" Samantha shot back. Vernon glared at her but didn't say anything.

"That's all we know," Petunia said in a tiny voice. "We've been taking care of the boy ever since. It hasn't been easy—he's constantly causing trouble, strange things keep happening around him."

"It's his magic," Samantha said matter-of-factly. "If he's not trained how to use it properly, it can occur accidentally, causing unusual things to happen, such as when you cut all his hair off and it grew back overnight, or when his cousin was chasing him to beat him up, and he popped onto the roof of the school."

Petunia grimaced. "What else do you want from us?"

"Nothing else," Samantha said, coldly. "Except — what are you going to do when the authorities begin to wonder what's happened to Harry?"

Vernon shook his head, not understanding, but Petunia took her meaning at once. "What — what are you saying?" she asked, warily. "You've got him now. You said so yourself."

"But nobody else knows that, do they?" Samantha smirked.

"We know who you are!" Vernon blustered. "Samantha Stephens. Do you think we won't tell the authorities that you've taken the boy?"

"You can tell them whatever you like," Samantha retorted. "And I'm sure they will try to find Samantha Stephens. Oh, they might locate a few — Stephens is a common name here in England — but none of them will have a boy named Harry Potter with them. And he obviously won't be here with you. What do you think they'll do after that?"

Petunia paled. Vernon finally got it — his beefy face also went white. "You have to straighten this out," he demanded. "They — the authorities — they'll think we did something to the Boy!"

"Now you're catching on," Samantha said, with a wicked smile. "In fact, I've already informed your police department — there was an anonymous tip phoned in just before I got here that you were keeping him locked in a cupboard beneath the stairs."

Both Vernon and Petunia's jaws dropped. "You didn't!" Petunia whispered.

"Oh yes I did," Samantha nodded, still smiling. "Good luck explaining where he is when they get here." She looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "Well, I'll tell you what — to be fair, when I talk to Harry after this I'll ask him if he wants me to get you out of this mess or not. Whatever he says, I'll take care of it for him. I'll be back in touch — maybe. Ta-ta."

Samantha twitched her nose and vanished in a burst of white light and a great puff of smoke that quickly filled the room. Both coughing, Vernon and Petunia looked at one another. "Do you think the Boy will help us?" Petunia asked her husband.

"After the way we've treated him?" Vernon said to her. "Petunia, we are well and truly effed." Petunia could only nod her head in sad agreement. Curse the boy! she thought viciously. Even now that they were rid of him he was still messing up their lives!

=ooo=

A/N: I enjoyed reading Clell65619's story "Harry Potter and the Elder Sect," though it got a bit silly at times with the song references and such. The fanfic is another Harry Potter / Bewitched crossover and is a fun read, although some of the Bewitched characters are darker than in TV canon. There are some interesting relationships between some Bewitched characters and the Hogwarts founders. It moves the timeline of Bewitched forward from the 1960s to the 1980s, so that young Harry can join the Stephens family (spelled "Stevens" in the fanfic) to where he and Tabitha are about the same age. In one chapter Tabitha implies she's older than Harry so I assume he joined them when she was around two years old and he had been brought from Godric's Hollow when he was about 15 months old.

This story begins a few month or so before Harry learns he is a wizard on his 11th birthday, and takes an alternate path as he's introduced to Samantha and Darrin Stephens. The story is a "prequel" of sorts to my story "The Witch-Bang Theory" — in that fanfic I called the place of witches and warlocks the Eternal Realm; hence the title of this story. Just as Penny discovered in Witch-Bang she was the granddaughter of Maurice, Samantha's father, Harry is descended from his issue with a wand witch from the 11th century. More on this in subsequent chapters. Technically a crossover, I'm placing this story in the category of Harry Potter for more visibility. When it's complete I will change it to a Bewitched / Harry Potter crossover.

For now, I hope you enjoy the story as it unfolds! Please review and share your thoughts on the story, I enjoy reading them and will take cues from reviews that have ideas on where the story may go.

John

A/N #2: In case you think I messed up the time zones, I know that the U.S. Eastern Time zone is five hours behind Greenwich Mean Time in Britain. That is, when it's noon in Britain it's 7 am in Florida or New York. When Samantha and Electra went to the London Zoo on June 23 (a Saturday), they left around 8 a.m. and arrived in London about 1 p.m., about the time Harry and the Dursleys finished lunch and went to the reptile house. After Sam met Harry, she brought Electra home and went to work researching Harry's background in the Book of Ancestry, then went looking for information in various places, finally finding what happened to Harry in a November 3, 1981 issue of the Daily Prophet.

By the time she had this figured out it was early Sunday morning and time to make Darrin breakfast before he went golfing, so she cooked him eggs, bacon and sausage. Then, knowing it was in the afternoon in Britain, she popped over there but also went 12 hours into the past, to around 3 a.m. Sunday morning, so she could talk to Harry without the Dursleys finding out she was there. I mention that in the story above (in the paragraph where Samantha is telling Vernon what she knows about them) but I hope I've made it clearer here.

A/N #3: Thanks for the reviews I've received! The meeting between Sam and Dumbledore is bound to be epic!