Author's Note: I had a dream in which Harry was being abused by the Dursleys but was rescued by a Muggleborn witch that was working as a social worker. The dream stuck with me, so I decided to write a fic based on this premise.

Story Summary: A young Muggleborn witch named Cornelia Killian, who is working as a social worker in Surrey, gets a phone call from Mrs. Figg about Harry Potter being abused by his relatives. Lia goes to investigate, and upon finding out that the report is true, removes Harry and starts the process of bringing the Dursleys up on charges of child abuse and seeing to it that Harry ends up in a stable and loving home. This ends up changing the plans that Professor Dumbledore has set up, and Harry ends up on his own path to reach his destiny.

Disclaimer for entire fic: I do not own Harry Potter. It is the property of the fantastic author J. K. Rowling.

Cornelia Martha Killian, or Lia as she was more commonly known, sat at her desk going over some paperwork. She had dark blonde hair, normally done up in a knot at her neck, and jade green eyes. She was a social worker, and had been working at this job for the past six months, but unknown to her co-workers she was also a witch and could do magic. Normally those with magical abilities, even ones that were Muggleborn like her, got wizarding jobs, but she had chosen otherwise.

Lia had come from a very religious family, though her mother's family had been more open-minded and accepting than her father's. However, both her parents were strict and narrow-minded, insisting on their life fitting their views and denouncing anything that they saw was against their religion. They had named her Cornelia after her father's mother, but had given her a Biblical name for her middle name, after one of the women that had been a follower of Jesus Christ.

When Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Gryffindor House, had shown up to give Lia her acceptance letter and explain things, the Killians had been horrified. While they didn't actually go so far as to want 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live', they had a similar mindset. No matter how much Professor McGonagall tried to explain that magic wasn't evil witchcraft, and even explained that her own father had been a Presbyterian minister and had accepted his wife and children having magic, the Killians refused to listen.

Lia, on the other hand, didn't have a problem with being a witch, and tried to tell her parents that her magical abilities were a gift from God, pointing that the miracles that Jesus and the prophets had done could be seen as magic. When it became clear that she was determined to go to Hogwarts, and any threats to 'beat the evilness and witchcraft' out of her and have their vicar perform an exorcism just got Professor McGonagall protective of her, Mr. and Mrs. Killian disowned Lia.

Lia's maternal grandparents dropped by for a visit in the middle of all this, and once the situation had been explained to them, they sided with their granddaughter. They pointed out that the Bible verse's true translation was 'Thou shalt not suffer a poisoner to live', and ended up taking in Lia when their daughter and son-in-law refused to see reason and were adamant in disowning her. Lia had attended Hogwarts, and was Sorted into Gryffindor, with her grandparents' blessing and approval.

In her third year, she started tutoring a first-year Gryffindor named William Weasley, Bill for short, in Potions. By the end of the school year, he no longer needed help in Potions, but the two had become very good friends. When Lia's grandparents had died at the end of that summer, Bill had helped her recover from her grief, as he had two uncles who had died in the war when he was seven. That led to him inviting her to his home, the Burrow, for the Christmas holidays, and being de facto adopted by the Weasley family. (Though she had other friends that were willing to let her live with them too.)

When it came time for her Career Advice session in fifth-year, Lia realized that she didn't really want to have a wizarding career, other than perhaps as a teacher at Hogwarts. What she really wanted was to have a job where she could work with children and help them, and other than a teacher or a Healer or Mediwitch specializing in healing children, there wasn't any in the wizarding world. Since none of the Hogwarts teachers were planning on retiring within a couple of years after Lia graduating and there appeared to be a curse on the Defense position, and the fact that she didn't want to be a Healer or Mediwitch, that left getting certification so she could get a job in the Muggle world.

Being a social worker came to mind, and she could keep an eye out for other Muggleborn children and help if they ended up with non-accepting parents like hers had been. Professor McGonagall accepted her reasoning, and had helped her with achieving her goal, which included drawing up a transcript with her magical subjects and grades translated to Muggle ones. Lia had also gotten tutoring over the summer in Muggle subjects (thanks to the money her grandparents had left her), and sat for her A-levels so she could attend university in order to get her certification in social work.

With some help via magic, she had been able to take the necessary coursework and graduate with the certification within two years, and then get a job at a social services office in Surrey. When Lia wasn't at work, she would visit Muggleborn children that were due to turn eleven within the next two or three years (thanks to a list that Professor McGonagall provided) and explain things. So far none of them had parents that reacted negatively to the reveal that their child was a witch or wizard, though a couple (like the Grangers), had been a bit wary at first.

The phone on Lia's desk rang and she answered it. "Hello, Surrey County Council, Children's Services Department, this is Lia Killian speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Arabella Figg," said the woman on the other line. "I'm calling about some concerns I have with a boy living two streets over from me. I occasionally baby-sit him whenever his relatives are out, and from what I've seen of him, he's at least being neglected, if not outright abused. I've spoken with another person about my concerns before. He's said that I'm probably mistaken, but he assures me that he's going to look into the matter, however, I haven't seen any change in things."

Mrs. Figg proceeded to explain about the Dursley family, and how the parents' treatment of their son, Dudley, differed greatly from their nephew, Harry. Apparently Dudley was quite spoiled, and allowed to get away with anything, which included bullying his cousin. Harry also looked quite skinny, maybe even starved, though that could have been because he was forced to wear his cousin's (rather large) hand-me-downs. At the very least, he certainly didn't get as much to eat as Dudley, especially as he always devoured the food Mrs. Figg gave him when she baby-sat him.

"Have you noticed anything else, Mrs. Figg?" Lia asked, taking notes on all this.

"I have seen bruises sometimes on Harry," the other woman answered. "But that could just be from his cousin bullying him. Not that it's any better than his aunt and uncle hitting him."

"I agree," said Lia, making another note. "At the very least it shows that they're not doing anything to stop their son from bullying him. So let's see, Dudley's being spoiled and allowed to get away with pretty much anything, while Harry's at the very least being bullied by his cousin, forced to wear his cousin's overly large hand-me-downs, and not given as much to eat. Anything else?"

"I have seen Harry doing gardening work and taking out the trash. I assume that's chores he's been assigned to. It isn't that bad, except I think he's been forced to do them since he was six or seven, and his cousin doesn't seem to have any chores at all. I mentioned this to some of the neighbors, but I don't think any of them took me seriously, since they see me as the batty old cat lady, because I happen to like cats and have several of them. I spoke with Mrs. Dursley about it the last time I had to baby-sit Harry, but she brushed it off and I have a feeling I just made things worse for him. "

"Oh dear," Lia murmured, writing down more notes. "Don't worry, Mrs. Figg, we are definitely going to look into it. Could I please get the address? And is the last name for Harry also Dursley?"

"No, it's Potter," replied Mrs. Figg. "And the address is Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging."

"Wait, Harry Potter?" demanded Lia, dropping her pen in shock. "What does he look like?"

"He's got black hair, it usually looks untidy, green eyes, and wears glasses. Oh, and he's got a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning-bolt. Why do you ask?"

Lia thought quickly and responded, "I was a guest speaker at an assembly the primary school in Little Whinging had a few days ago. I think one of the teachers mentioned this Harry Potter to me."

"Oh, I see," said Mrs. Figg. "Anyway, thank you for listening to me, Ms. Killian, and I hope you look into the matter with Harry as soon as possible. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Lia, and hung up. Of all the phone calls she had ever gotten about possible abused children, having one be about Harry Potter, famous in the wizarding world for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort as a baby, to the point of being known as the 'Boy-Who-Lived', was unexpected. She had heard from the Weasleys that Harry had supposedly been sent to stay with Muggle relatives on his mother's side after his parents' death in the same attack from Voldemort, but had no idea that they were living in Surrey or that they would be horrible to him. Yet here they were, borderline abusive (at the very least) to their nephew, while spoiling their son at the same time.

Well, this was one case that Lia was definitely going to take, with no question of passing it on to any of her fellow social workers. If, or perhaps when, Harry needed to be removed from his relatives, she could see to it that he was placed properly. She would take him in herself, except her superiors might object to it, and she did have to work. Maybe she could see if her surrogate parents could take him in. They were certainly very loving, she could help out with his upkeep, and no doubt his parents had left him a Gringotts account to pay for his school supplies. Also, Ron was only a few months older than Harry and would make a good friend, and the rest of the Weasley siblings were also friendly and nice.

Lia carefully organized her notes into a proper file labeled 'HARRY POTTER', and then glanced at the clock. It was shortly after two o'clock, and since it was Saturday, the Dursleys would likely be home. After consulting a map so that she could find the route and notifying her co-workers that she was going out a case, she put on her coat and hat and set out for the Dursley home.

Harry Potter, aged nine, was outside shoveling the driveway, for it had snowed that morning, leaving the driveway covered in a few inches of snow. At least Dudley wasn't outside making the task harder for him, such as pelting him with snowballs or shoving him into the snow. Or pushing him down and stuffing snow down his pants and shirt, which Dudley and his gang had done yesterday. Aunt Petunia had scolded Harry for coming home with wet pants and shirt, and used that as an excuse to have him sleep in the cupboard under the stairs instead of what was supposed to be his proper bedroom.

Since the Dursleys wanted to appear normal, and Aunt Petunia had recalled having to draw a picture of her room in primary school, they had assigned the smallest bedroom as Harry's room. However, he rarely got to sleep in it, instead having to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs most of the time as punishment for supposed misdeeds, and the room (other than the bed, dresser, and desk) ended up holding Dudley's old and broken toys, plus the books he gotten but didn't care to read.

Harry didn't really mind having to sleep in the cupboard, since his cousin never bothered him when he was in there (only when he wasn't in it or was coming out), and his uncle rarely did either, since Uncle Vernon couldn't fit in the door without it being a tight squeeze. As for Aunt Petunia, she mostly just rapped on the door and screeched for him to get up in the mornings, and otherwise didn't go to Harry when he was in there unless Uncle Vernon was seeking to punish him for something.

Harry shuddered in remembrance, for such an occasion had happened last evening. He had been banished to the cupboard without dinner (Aunt Petunia had blamed him for Dudley tracking in snow) after the dishes had been washed, but was summoned out a few minutes later. His relatives always made a point of checking up on his work after he finished an assigned chore, so upon an inspection of the dishes he'd washed, apparently some of them hadn't been done to their satisfaction.

It had set Uncle Vernon off, who had roared for Harry to come out of the cupboard. Both he and Aunt Petunia had yelled at Harry for not washing the dishes properly, and after making him redo the dishes, Uncle Vernon had taken off his belt and beat Harry with it. Aunt Petunia had followed it up with a lecture about ungrateful brats who couldn't do anything right to repay their relatives for taking them in and giving them food, clothes to wear, and a roof over their heads. Uncle Vernon had used that lecture as an excuse to give Harry another beating, this time for being an 'ungrateful little freak', and then sent him back to the cupboard with the order that he was to get no meals on Saturday.

Harry's stomach rumbled in hunger at this point, for he had gotten little to eat yesterday. Dudley had stuffed himself at breakfast, leaving no leftovers for Harry to eat, and had stolen his lunch (which consisted of a sandwich and a banana) as well. The only thing he'd gotten to eat was when Mrs. Figg had passed by on her afternoon walk and slipped him a sandwich.

Speaking, or rather thinking, of Mrs. Figg, she was coming down the street for her daily walk. She frowned when she saw Harry outside, shoveling, but the frown quickly turned to a look of concern. He flinched and hoped that she wouldn't say anything to his relatives about his treatment again.

He knew that she meant well and were concerned that he wasn't well-treated, but it didn't change how he was treated. In fact, it only made things worse, for when Mrs. Figg spoke to Aunt Petunia about Dudley's bullying, Harry had been punished with two weeks in the cupboard, only let out for school and to use the bathroom, and Uncle Vernon had beaten him every day for that time.

A dark grey car turned onto Privet Drive, but Harry paid little attention to it until he saw it park on the side of the street in front of the Dursley home. A young woman with dark blonde hair peeking out under a dark blue hat and in a matching wool coat got out the car. After a second, he recognized her as the woman from the Child Services Department of the Surrey County Council that had spoken at the school assembly on Tuesday. Ms. Killian had warned the students about adults that might touch you in inappropriate ways or be mean to you (such as hitting you or not giving you enough to eat) and strangers that could try to lure you away with things like money and sweets. If anything like this were to happen, you were to try to get away and tell a grown-up you could trust about it.

Harry had left the assembly wishing that Ms. Killian's words applied to him. Well, no stranger had ever tried to kidnap him, nor had anyone ever touched him in uncomfortable ways, but his aunt and uncle certainly hit him and didn't feed him properly. However, there was no way he could find a so-called trusted adult and tell them about it. Assuming they believed him (which considering his relatives had painted him as a liar and attention-seeking brat was doubtful), his relatives would find some way of glossing the whole thing over and then punish him for telling tales.

Mrs. Figg walked over and exchanged a few words with Ms. Killian, then the latter turned and walked over to Harry. "Hello, Harry," she said kindly. "Do you remember me from the assembly?"

He paused in his shoveling to nod. "You're Ms. Killian. Hello."

Ms. Killian looked him over. He was dressed in a shabby bright green coat that was several sizes too large for him, with the sleeves pushed up so that his hands (which were in holey mittens) weren't covered up, baggy trousers, and snow-caked trainers. He didn't have a hat, only the hood of the coat.

"Harry, could I talk to you for a few minutes?" she asked. "It's very important."

"I'm s'posed to be shoveling the driveway," Harry replied, pushing up his glasses, which had Sellotape on the bridge. "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia won't like it if I take too long and I'll get in trouble."

"You can still shovel while we talk," Ms. Killian said. "Here, I'll even help you." She walked over to her car and opened the door. He thought he saw a flash of light, but before he could question it, he saw her tuck a stick into her pocket and return with a snow shovel of her own.

"Good thing I have a shovel with me in case my car ever gets snowed in a parking lot," she said with a smile. "Is your aunt and uncle or your cousin going to come out while we talk?"

Harry shook his head. "Uncle Vernon went to take a nap after he told me to shovel the snow. Dudley's watching a show on the telly and Aunt Petunia's baking him biscuits."

Ms. Killian began shoveling snow next to Harry and said, "Mrs. Figg called my office earlier this afternoon. She told me that she thinks your relatives are mean to you. At the very least, they're not stopping your cousin from bullying you, and are spoiling him while they force you to wear his old clothes, do all sorts of chores, and not feed you as much as they do him."

Harry paled. This was worse than Mrs. Figg speaking to the Dursleys about his treatment! Now Ms. Killian was going to be all sorts of questions about his home life, and talk to his relatives about treating him better. They'd either gloss things over and make her think this was a misunderstanding, or they'd pretend that they were just a bit strict with him and promise to be nicer. In either case, it would be a lie, and once she was gone, they'd punish him severely. It'd be even worse than what he'd gotten when Mrs. Figg had questioned his treatment.

"Nothing's wrong!" Harry blurted in a panic. "My aunt and uncle aren't mean to me! They only punish me when I'm bad! You don't need to talk to them at all! Mrs. Figg made a mistake."

Ms. Killian sighed. "Calm down, Harry. I'm here to help you, and to make sure that your relatives can never hurt you again if they are abusing you. I can take you away from them and you'll never have to see them again if you don't want to. You just have to trust me and tell me the truth."

Harry shook his head violently. "I'm fine! There's nothing you can do!"

"Oh Harry," said Ms. Killian. "Look, let me tell you something about me. When I was a little girl I lived with parents that weren't very nice. They wanted me to be just like them, and if I wasn't as perfect as they wanted, they would spank me or send me to bed without dinner. Then one day this teacher from a special school came. It was the same school your parents went to, in fact. The teacher, Professor McGonagall, explained that I had special abilities and so was invited to attend this school. My parents didn't think my abilities were all that special, in fact they said it was evil and that I was cursed by the Devil. They didn't want me to go to the school at all and said they were going to 'beat the evilness' out of me. Professor McGonagall stopped them, and luckily my grandparents came by for a visit and took me away to live with them. I was able to go to the school and I didn't have to see my parents ever again if I didn't want to. I even got a new family when my grandparents died. When I graduated from school, I decided that I wanted to help other children that also didn't have nice families."

Harry digested this. He had no idea how Ms. Killian knew that what school his parents had gone to, but everything else she said sounded like the truth, that she understood something of his life. That still didn't meant she could help him, though. Just because she wanted to help children with bad home lives didn't mean she couldn't be tricked into thinking things were fine for him. "I-" he stammered.

Ms. Killian must have sensed what was bothering him, for she continued, "Nothing your relatives say will change my mind. They can claim that you're lying or trying to get attention with wild stories, or that they only punish you a bit when you're bad, or that your cousin isn't bullying you, that he's just a bit rowdy and it's only typical boyish roughhousing. None of that will stop me from making them see that they are abusing you and taking you away from them to someplace safe, okay? It didn't work with Mrs. Figg, did it? She still called the office and told me that she was afraid you were being abused, no matter what your aunt and uncle said to try to smooth things over."

Harry tossed a shovelful of snow onto the yard, then said quietly, "If any of my chores aren't done perfectly, Uncle Vernon hits me with his belt, and he and Aunt Petunia yell at me for it. They also send me to bed without dinner lots of times. Sometimes I don't get breakfast either, 'cause Dudley eats all the food and doesn't leave any left for me. If Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are really mad at me, they'll yell at me for being ungrateful brat that doesn't do anything to repay them for taking me in and give me extra chores and no meals for a day. And Uncle Vernon hits me for that too."

"What they're doing is wrong, Harry," said Ms. Killian. "No child should ever be treated like that. Even my parents were never that terrible to me. Here, let's finish up this bit that's left, and then I'm going to speak to your aunt and uncle. I need to question them and make them see that their treatment of you is wrong, and then we'll gather your things and I will take you away from them."

Harry nodded, hope blossoming in his heart. He had never thought that he would ever escape from his awful relatives and had long since given up dreaming of someone coming along and rescuing him. He had resigned himself to being his cousin's punching bag and his aunt and uncle's ill-treated and unpaid servant for the rest of his life, or until he turned of age, anyway.

A couple of minutes later, the driveway had been completely shoveled. Ms. Killian went back to her car to put away her shovel and grab the file she had made of Harry, while he put his shovel in the garage.

When he entered the kitchen, Aunt Petunia looked up from putting a tray of biscuits in the oven. "At least you got the driveway done quickly. Watch where you step! I don't want you tracking in snow all over my clean floor. Go see if Dudley needs-" She broke off when she saw Ms. Killian walk in to stand behind Harry. "You didn't tell me that there was a visitor! Hello, may I ask who you are?"

"I'm Cornelia Killian," replied Ms. Killian. "I'm from the Child Services Department. Your neighbor, Mrs. Figg, called me about her concerns for Harry here. I've spoken with him while he was shoveling the driveway, and what I've heard makes it clear that Mrs. Figg is right to be concerned."

"Has the boy been telling stories again?" Aunt Petunia demanded, a flicker of anger appearing on her face to be quickly replaced by a look of simple annoyance. "My nephew is something of a pathological liar and likes to tell wild stories in an attempt to gain attention. I wouldn't listen to what he says."

Ms. Killian frowned. "Don't try to convince me that Harry is some kind of attention-seeking person or a liar. I've had other parents and guardians that were abusive try to claim the same thing. The point is I am here to do an investigation to confirm what Mrs. Figg and Harry told me. I saw and heard you snap at your nephew just now." She made a note, then continued, "Could I see Harry's room?"

Aunt Petunia made a face, but led the social worker upstairs, pausing first at the master bedroom to wake up her husband. Uncle Vernon was not pleased to be woken up, and was even more disgruntled to find out that there was a social worker investigating their treatment of their nephew. He, like his wife, tried to claim that Harry was lying or trying to get attention, but again, Ms. Killian didn't believe this, and just asked again to see Harry's bedroom.

They passed the guest room and Dudley's bedroom (which had a telly and many toys, some quite expensive, scattered around), before stopping at a room at the end of the hall. It was the smallest of the four bedrooms, and had a plain bed, nightstand, desk and chair, a bookcase full of untouched books, a closet, and shelves full of what appeared to broken or discarded toys. The bed didn't look as if it was ever slept in, and the toys were likely old ones discarded from Dudley.

"This is Harry's room," Ms. Killian skeptically stated with a raised brow.

"Yes, that's the room that we designated as his," Uncle Vernon snapped. "Is there a problem?"

"It doesn't look as if Harry has spent much time in here, if at all, for one thing. For another, it appears that it's more of a place to put all the discarded toys that your son didn't want. And don't try to claim that those toys are Harry's and that he broke them. I'm not going to believe you."

Uncle Vernon's face turned an ugly shade of purple, while Aunt Petunia, who had turned red, hissed, "Even if those toys are my Dudder's old toys, that room is still Harry's!"

Ms. Killian sighed and turned to Harry. "Is this your room, Harry?" He nodded, causing his aunt to let out a triumphant, "I told you!", but Ms. Killian continued, "Do you sleep in here?"

Harry shook his head. "Most of the time I have to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs 'cause Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon say I've been bad. Sometimes I get locked in there for a few days."

"I see," said Ms. Killian, keeping a firm grip on her temper. "Could you show me the cupboard?" Harry nodded and led her downstairs to the cupboard. He opened the door to reveal a thin mattress with a threadbare blanket folded on it and some shelves with cleaning supplies and his few belongings. Ms. Killian took a camera out of her purse and took a few pictures of the cupboard and its interior.

"What do you think you're doing?" Uncle Vernon snarled furiously.

"Getting evidence and documenting things," she responded coldly, glaring at him and his wife. "I can see that you two, for appearance's sake, assigned a bedroom to your nephew, so he could truthfully say that he has his own room, but in reality have him sleep in a closet under the guise of punishment. I am disgusted with your behavior. Why are you raising your nephew in the first place?" Of course, she knew the answer already, but wanted to see what the Dursleys would say.

"My blasted sister and her husband, no doubt driving drunk, got themselves killed in a car accident," snapped Aunt Petunia. "My husband and I took the boy in out the kindness of our hearts."

"Is this what your relatives told you, Harry?" Harry nodded and Ms. Killian turned back to them. "So you couldn't even be bothered to tell Harry the truth about how his parents died. I suppose you didn't even bother to tell him about his heritage or explain about his special abilities." Seeing Harry's puzzled look, Ms. Killian explained, "It's a rather complicated story, but the short answer, Harry, is that a really evil person killed your parents. He tried to kill you too, but failed, and was defeated. I don't know why you weren't told the truth, but it sounds like your aunt didn't like your mother."

As Harry digested this, Aunt Petunia made a sputtering noise and her face was as white as snow.

"How do you know this?" she demanded. "You're just a social worker! Unless- you're one of them!"

"If you mean that I have the same abilities as your sister, yes I am," answered Ms. Killian. "Like her, I was the first person in my family to have them, and attended the same school she did. I just chose to work as a social worker after graduation so I could help children with bad home lives."

Aunt Petunia made another sputtering noise. "So you're just a freak like my dratted sister and her husband! Get out of my house! Your lot were the ones to dump Harry with us even though we didn't want him, and now that we're stuck with him, we'll raise him however we like!"

"I am not a freak," Ms. Killian said firmly. "My abilities are a gift from God, and my grandfather, who was a vicar before he retired, and my grandmother agreed with me. It sounds like you are a narrow-minded person like my parents are, or you were jealous of your sister and turned it to hate."

"I was not jealous!" Aunt Petunia spat. "I, unlike my parents, merely was able to see my sister for the freak she was, and refused to have anything to do with her. It's not my fault if she and that Potter she married got themselves blown up and their abnormal son got foisted on us!"

"We took him in even though we didn't want him in the first place!" Uncle Vernon added angrily. "As soon as we set eyes on the boy we swore that we would stamp that rubbish out of him!"

"You can't stamp his powers out of him!" Ms. Killian retorted impatiently. "You're either born with it or not, and will always have it! The only thing you would achieve, if you had abused him to the point of being irreparably damaged psychologically, is his losing all control so that he couldn't attend Hogwarts or function in our society and have his powers breaking out randomly! Would you rather have that?"

At this point, Dudley came out of the living room to see what the shouting was about. "What's going on, Mum and Dad?" he asked, looking very confused.

"A social worker came by to see how Harry is being treated," answered Aunt Petunia.

"Oh," said Dudley, and was about to go back to the living room, but Ms. Killian spoke before he could.

"The treatment of your son isn't much better!" she snapped. "You might not be abusing him, but your indulging him in everything has turned him into an overweight spoiled brat who thinks it's okay to go around bullying people! If he keeps up like this with no proper discipline from you, you'll end up with a juvenile delinquent or have him depend on you for the rest of his life because he can't live on his own!"

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sputtered, while Dudley started at the social worker, looking even more confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked stupidly.

"Your parents are letting you eat whatever you want and having your way in everything, correct?" Dudley nodded, and Ms. Killian continued, "That isn't good for you. You are becoming a bully, and you have gotten your group of friends to be the same. Also, you're becoming very fat, which isn't healthy, and people don't like you and are afraid of you because of how you're acting."

As he considered this, she turned to his parents. "I have seen enough, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. Harry is clearly being abused, so I am removing him from this place. You are not going to stop me. I will have you brought up on charges of child abuse, and your son will be placed with relatives or a foster home."

Aunt Petunia made a choking noise, while Uncle Vernon snarled, "You can't do this! I'll tell your office that you're a freak and you used your freaky powers to make all this happen!"

Ms. Killian gave him a disdainful look. "Do you really think people will believe you if you say that I can do magic? They'll think you're a raving lunatic. Now, if you don't want me turning you into the foul cockroaches you are, I suggest you shut up and face the consequences of your actions. Harry, if you would please gather up your belongings and then we'll go."

Harry nodded and moved to step inside the cupboard. Uncle Vernon snarled and thrust out an arm, grabbing his nephew roughly, but a second later, Ms. Killian had pulled out a stick from her pocket and blasted the large man backwards. "I warned you, Mr. Dursley," she hissed, her green eyes flashing with anger. "I told you to not interfere. Harry is coming with me and will never see you again unless he wants to. Now get away before I lose my temper and do more than pushing you back."

"You can't take him!" he snapped back. "That headmaster of the freak school of yours left him with us and the letter said to keep him! He even gave us a couple hundred pounds a month to do so!"

"Excuse me?" Ms. Killian exclaimed. "Professor Dumbledore has been giving you money to keep Harry, and you've been half-starving him and forcing him to wear his cousin's hand-me-downs? What have you been doing with the money, spending it all on your son? You are the most awful excuse for human beings I have ever met, and you deserve to burn in Hell. I hope God can forgive you for all the terrible things you've done, because I certainly can't. Harry, grab your things and let's go."

Harry stuffed his few belongings, mostly clothes and his school things, in his backpack and a paper sack. Ms. Killian, her stick still pointed at the Dursleys, took Harry's hand with her free one, and the two walked out the door. Once they were safely in her car and driving away, she spoke.

"I know you have some questions about what just happened, so I'll explain the best I can, Harry. I know your relatives likely told you otherwise, but magic is real. I am a witch and can do magic, just as your parents also could and were a witch and wizard. You were born with the ability to do magic too, and are a wizard, though you'll have to wait until you're eleven to attend Hogwarts, which is the magic school in Britain, to learn how to properly cast spells and such."

Harry thought it over for a minute. "So magic is real and I'm a wizard. Is that what the strange stuff I did was? And why Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got mad over it and punished me?"

Ms. Killian nodded. "What magic things have you done?"

"I once made my hair grow back after Aunt Petunia cut it all off," Harry replied. "She was tired of it being messy and looking the same no matter how many haircuts I had. I got beaten by Uncle Vernon and shut up in the cupboard for a week, except for school. Oh, and Dudley and his group were chasing me last month, and I meant to jump behind the dustbins to hide from them, but I somehow ended up on the school's kitchen roof instead. I got two weeks in the cupboard for that, and beaten every day."

She winced at this, then continued, "Well, what your aunt and uncle did to you was wrong. You were born a wizard, and shouldn't be punished for accidental magic. All children have that happen until they start Hogwarts and learn how to master their magic. I promise you, Harry, you will never have to see them again, except maybe in court when they're on trial for abusing you and you have to testify, that is explain to the court, what happened to you. Were you punished this week for anything?"

Harry nodded. "I had to sleep in the cupboard this week 'cause I kept coming home with wet clothes from Dudley and his friends pushing me in the snow and stuff. Aunt Petunia wouldn't let me have dinner last night 'cause she blamed me for Dudley tracking in snow. Uncle Vernon hit me Tuesday 'cause he said I didn't shovel the driveway fast enough, and hit me again last night 'cause the dishes weren't clean enough. When Aunt Petunia said I was 'an ungrateful brat who can't do anything right to repay them for taking me in', he beat me again and told me I couldn't eat today."

Ms. Killian frowned, but all she said was, "Well then, I bet you're hungry, so I'm going to take you to my house and get you some food to eat, all right?"

Harry nodded, and she spent the rest of the drive explaining more about the wizarding world, as well as a more protracted explanation of the circumstances of his parents' deaths.

"So my parents were fighting an evil wizard and his followers that didn't like, um, Muggles and those born to Muggle families," Harry said slowly. "This Vol-Voldemort killed them, and tried to kill me, but failed. I'm famous in the wizarding world because it looks like I defeated him. But why?"

"Why you're famous or why you defeated Voldemort? To the first, Voldemort was very evil, and had many people scared. The good guys were fighting him and his followers, but it was very possible that they could lose. When he was defeated, everyone, the good guys anyway, were really happy because it meant that they no longer had to be scared and be on guard. I was a second-year at Hogwarts when it happened, so I remember how we were all celebrating it. To the second question, nobody's really sure as to how you were able to defeat him. I spoke with Professor McGonagall, the teacher that gave me my acceptance letter, and we think that maybe your mother's sacrifice gave you some sort of magical protection, or you subconsciously created some of your own."

Harry remained silent for the last few minutes of the drive as he digested this. Ms. Killian turned into the driveway of a dark blue and white house that was somewhat smaller than the Dursley home. She had inherited it from her grandparents, which was the main reason why she was working in Surrey.

Once inside, she showed him where the hall closet was so he could hang up his coat, and then they went to the kitchen, where she proceeded to make two sandwiches and poured out a glass of milk. So that Harry wouldn't feel awkward about being the only one eating, she grabbed an apple for herself.

When he was done eating, he would have washed the plate and cup he used, but Ms. Killian stopped him and gave him a demonstration of magic instead by pointing her wand and saying, "Scourgify." In a flash the plate and cup were sparkling clean, and she demonstrated another spell by levitating them into the cabinet she kept her dishes in. Harry was awed by the use of magic.

"Wow, will I be able to that?" he asked, then flinched when he realized that he'd asked a question. The Dursleys hadn't wanted him to ask questions at all, and his aunt had slapped him the few times he did. Then he remembered that he'd asked a few questions during the car ride and nothing happened other than Ms. Killian answering them, so he tried to relax a bit.

"After you have some lessons first, Harry," she said with a smile. "I can have you look through some of my old schoolbooks later and go over the theory with you, and perhaps teach you a couple of easy spells. But you'll learn most of it once you start Hogwarts. Now, I'm sorry that I have to do this, but I have to document the abuse you went through and gather evidence. You said during the car ride that your uncle hit you with his belt last night. So would you please let me have a look?"

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly took of the overlarge and ugly jumper he was wearing and lifted up the shirt he was wearing underneath. Ms. Killian said nothing as she took in the welts that crisscrossed his back, but her lips thinned. She took out her camera and took pictures of it, then told him that he could lower his shirt and made some more notes for the file.

When she was done, she said, "Why don't you come with me to the bathroom and I'll put some salve on your back and get you healed up a bit. Then I'll get you settled in a room and you can shower."

"Aunt Petunia would only let me take ten minutes to shower," Harry said. "And I couldn't use the hot water. I had to use different soap and shampoo from my relatives, and they only got new ones for me every four months. I got yelled at once for using up the shampoo in three months, and made to do extra chores to pay Aunt Petunia for having to go out and buy more for me."

Ms. Killian grimaced at this and had to silently remind herself that at least Harry had been able to shower on his own and hadn't been forced into scalding hot or ice cold baths as further torment. "Well, you can take as long as you want to shower here," she said. "And use all the hot water you want. Could you please take off your shirt so I can put on the salve, Harry?" As he did so, she took out the jar of salve from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, then gently smeared some over his back. Despite her gentleness, he still flinched and had to bite his lip to keep from hissing or whimpering in pain.

"I'm sorry about the pain," Ms. Killian apologized, putting the jar back in the cabinet. She finished by taking out her wand and doing a spell that would speed up the healing.

Once Harry put his shirt back on, she grabbed his backpack and paper sack and led him upstairs. "You can stay in my old bedroom for the time being," she said, walking past the master bedroom (which had once been her grandparents' and which was now hers), a bathroom, and the guest room. She opened the door opposite the guest room, revealing a bedroom, decorated in shades of pink, violet, and lavender, which was a little bigger than the one assigned to him at the Dursleys. "I know the color scheme is rather girly, but that's easily fixed. Here."

She waved her wand around the room, saying a spell at the same time, and the wallpaper, bedspread, and pillows became a dark blue that was the color of the night sky with forest green and silver trim. As Harry looked around at the color change in awe, Ms. Killian went over to the closet. It was empty, since she'd removed all her old clothes shortly after her Hogwarts graduation and donated them. She placed his belongings in the closet, then went out to the hall closet and got a sheet and pillowcase. These she transfigured into clothes and underthings for Harry.

"Here," she said, coming back into the room, "take these and go to the bathroom to shower. I'll take you shopping for some new clothes tomorrow, but these will do for now. I suggest you use the white bar of soap, since the pink one's the one I use and I doubt you'll want to smell of roses. You can use one of the towels on the shelf to dry yourself with when you're done. I have some calls to make now."