Nobody noticed the little kid running through the streets of London covered in dirt and grim. Nobody noticed the way she snuck her fingers into people's pockets and stole whatever she could grab. Nobody noticed her running into an alley and a sewer drain.

The girl had long dirty blonde hair that reached to her neck and wore a large dirty coat with several scarfs underneath along with a used jumper. All things she had pulled out from the trash.

She climbed down the ladder and landed softly in the sewer line, running down the pipes until she reached another door. Looking around to make sure she wasn't being followed, the little girl bent down and pressed a finger against the metal door keyhole and suddenly her fingernail grew a foot longer.

Carefully she inserted the nail into the keyhole and wiggled it around, a soft click was heard that unlocked the door. She quickly went in and locked the door behind her.

The room on the other side of the door was nothing more than an abandoned power station. The junction boxes had been cleared out and were now instead of being used as a closet. There was a mattress on the ground near the back with a pillow and a blanket and a table with lots and lots of stole objects.

The girl sighed as she walked to the desk and poured out the contents of her jacket, spilling out all she had stolen. A couple of keys chains, a few wallets, lucky her, a pen and what looked like a fancy video game, she remembered Dudley mentioning it back when she still lived with them.

Content the girl removed her jacket and scarf putting it into her closet before turning to the mirror hanging inside the door. She focused on her image and slowly her entire body began to change.

Her hair grew shorter and turned black. Her eyes turned from a dull brown to a jadish green. Her shoulders grow wider and her cheeks became more masculine. She was a he, a young man by the name of Harry James Potter.

Harry smiled and closed the junction box, sitting down at his table to sort through all the junk he got today.

He had been doing this for some time now, stealing things that didn't belong to him, selling them to shifty looking people for a few pounds. The people he knew liked to deal with things like jewelry and fancy watches. Harry was lucky if he ever got a watch, it so far has happened only once.

He hadn't always been living out on the streets. Once he had a house, but it was never really a home for him. The Dursleys were horrible. They treated him like a slave. Harry didn't know it then, so he just kept quiet about it, but now, after living two years on the streets, tasting true freedom, he never wanted to back there again.

And he would still be there if he didn't discover what he could do with his powers. He didn't know when it happened, he supposed ti was when Petunia shaved off all his hair only to find all of it returned the very next day.

That was when he started to wonder, 'what exactly am I?' They called him a freak, something to be hated, Harry was beginning to think this was why. So one day, when no one was watching, he snuck into the bathroom and changed his hair some more, only to find that he could actually grow it longer and shorter as he wished.

He then spent months sneaking away to practice. He could only change the length of his hair at first. And then he saw a girl with bright red hair and wondered how he would with hair like that, so the next time he practiced hr worked on changing his hair color.

He quickly discovered that every single part of his body could be altered on the way or another. His eyes could change color, he also learned if he stretched the eyeball a bit he didn't need his glasses anymore! His arms and legs could grow, he could become any height he wished in an instant! Though it was difficult getting used to the strange new height.

He didn't really understand how though until he heard Petunia ramble on about his mother one night when the madwoman was drunk of her rocker. She yelled about how her sister was such a freak, so irresponsible for getting herself killed.

And that's when Harry realized his mother must have been like him, able to do the things he could, that was why Petunia called both of them freaks!

And after all that, Harry finally came to a choice. He was in school when he saw a bird flying over the barbed wire school fence, it was so free and happy. Harry wondered to himself, 'that bird is so free and full of life. It goes where it wants with no one to stop it,' he was so jealous. And then he wondered, 'why can't I do the same?'

It was a split-second decision he would never come to regret. On the day he decided to run away he stole everything he could from the Dursleys money from Vernon's wallet, food from the kitchen, all of Dudley's nice clothes and toys and even a couple of pillows.

He ran ut in the middle of the night and never looked back. He slept in a local park and ate breakfast in a cafe a few streets away. He then looked for a place to live, he never really planned for much other than the simple fact he wanted to run away, far, far away.

He kept sleeping out in the cold, but after one week he became sick. He had no choice but to go to the hospital, the doctors there took care of him and asked where his parents were. He lied and said he got lost.

They managed to track the Dursleys down though and had them come to the hospital to pick him up. Harry had run away the very next second, changing his features into the female form he now often used will go out in public. He called her Abby, she was his first disguise.

He ran away and decided he needed to find a place to live. He was forced to sleep outside yet again though, and this time he was mugged. They took everything, clothes, toys, even the pillows. Harry was left beaten and alone, and that's when he knew he had to be smart.

He managed to track down his stuff. One of the men who mugged him spent all the cash on beer. Harry followed him to his house and when the man was unconscious he slipped in and took all the cash and anything valuable he had.

Harry then went to the same man who had fenced his items and sold off all the things he had stolen. And that was the day he met Benji and perverse man that liked little boys. He cut Harry a deal the first time, even offered a place to stay, but Harry didn't trust him, not one bit. He's the one who took away his pillow after all.

The next month Harry spent robbing people. Soon though the coppers had a basic description of him, so Harry was forced to change faces every time he went out. For different parts of town, he used different faces, always rotating each one so that no one knew they were all related.

Abby was his favorite so far, is a cute girl let him get away with so many things! There were times a few homeless people actually offered Harry their food out of the 'kindness of their hearts'.

It was two months after Harry ran away when he found this place. He remembered doing the job for Benji, distracting a man while few thugs snuck up behind him to beat him blind, Harry didn't really like he caused another person to be hurt, but he didn't care, the money was good and he was starving.

Harry did learn though that Benji's guys were hanging out somewhere in the London underground, a cozy little place down by the river. So growing curious HArry went down to try his own luck, and low and behold there it was. His true home. It wasn't much, it's wasn't anything other than four walls really, but it was home for him.

He made this his retreat, telling nobody about it, especially not Benji, he didn't trust the man and probably never would. He even pretended to have another place in a junkyard down the road, just in case Benji and some people got curious.

Harry lived a very strange life after that. He was many things, a thief, a trickster, a thief….well, mainly a thief. But he lived it free, and from what he knew, not many people had that option.

After finally sorting through all the junk he snatched up today Harry got dressed. He put them all into his coat pocket and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

He didn't have a key, his powers though allowed him to make his own lock picks using his nails. Harry had to learn a lot of things while stealing, lock picking was one of them. He had gotten really good, one of the main reasons Benji so wanted him on his team.

Harry carefully slipped out of the tunnels into the streets above. He snuck around, careful to keep his head down, he was going to see Benji, he couldn't afford to put up a disguise.

He walked a few streets down before finally arriving at an abandoned street where nearly all the buildings were broken down or abandoned. All except one, the one in the middle with the walls covered with graffiti.

Two men stood outside with cigarettes in their mouths. The spotted Harry walking towards them.

"Heya Harry, how've you been?" a blonde man with a neck tattoo of a cross-spoke up.

"Just fine George, he in?" Harry asked walking up the steps to the house.

"Isn't he always?"George shrugged with a smile.

"Oy, what's a little kid doing here?!" a young black kid with sagging shorts asked, looking horrified at the sight of Harry.

"Oh don't get your panties in a twist, Harry here's an old friend," George waved the boy's concern.

"See you later George," Harry waved as he walked inside.

"And old friend?" the black boy asked, "what the hell does that mean?"

"That means he's been working for us for some time now," George explained taking a deep drag from his light.

"W-what?! But he looks like he's fucking 9!"

"Ten actually, and I think it's going to be his birthday soon," George shrugged.

"How are you so fine with this?!"

"The kid's a natural mate, he's the best thief we know. He can get into any house, provided it isn't too high tech. If it can be picked, the kid can get into it. And we never see him coming. He's a fucking shadow, heck, Benji doesn't even know where he lives!"

The kid looked amazed as he turned to the door Harry just passed through, "that kid? Him?" George said nothing but huff out smoke, looking at the street to continue looking for any sign of trouble.

Harry walked in, the place was filled with nasty-looking women, dangerous-looking men and above all stuck to high heaven of drugs. And considering he basically lived in a sewer that's saying something.

"Hey Harry," a black woman with a large perm called out from the couch, her eyes glossed over from the drugs she took, "if-if you're looking for Ben he up," she paused, the words escaping her, "he's up somewhere."

Harry nodded, "thank you, Janet."

The woman smiled, "I'm so going to fuck you when you grow up. Don't go gay on me you twit!"

Harry ignored her ramblings and walked upstairs. He heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and not the erotic kind like he so often heard in these walls. It was a painful kind.

Harry walked into the master bedroom, it was barren, except for four men standing around a fifth that was on the floor bleeding out.

"Fucking piece of shit," a short man spat out, "get this piece of shit cleaned up. Take him home, break a few things, beat around his girl and then remind them to pay up on time next month."

"Got it, Benji," the other men nodded as the removed the man.

Harry stepped aside letting them pass by. He didn't like violence, too often he was the subject of it and he despised cowardness, people needed to stand up to bullies. And of course, he hated bullies, which is why he never really took to Benji and his gang.

The man tried to lure Harry in plenty of times, the promise of more cash, better food, even some new clothes, but Harry hated the man with a passion if he wasn't the only fence in town willing to do business with a kid he wouldn't even bother with the man.

Benji was a short man with a large beard and lots of muscles. He looked dangerous because he was. He spotted Harry and smiled, "ah, nice to see you boy, got anything for me today?"

"Yes," Harry gave a straight answer.

Benji motioned him over, they went into the other room which looked similar to an office A fine oak desk in the middle with a couch in the corner. The walls were covered with posters and paintings and in the back was a safe which HArry knew was filled with cash and other valuables.

Benji sat down on the other side of the table and cracked his bleeding knuckles, "so? What do you have for me today?"

Harry pulled out everything he had, putting them all out on the table. Benji looked through them all, inspecting each one like one would a diamond. He finally put them aside and took out several notes.

"Here," he pushed it into Harry's hands.

Harry counted the notes and growled, "500 pounds?! That's it?!"

"Hey, you're lucky I'm giving you that much!" Benji yelled back, "half this shit is useless! I shouldn't even give you a thing! And if you don't like it, you can talk to someone else," he smiled at the end knowing Harry couldn't do that.

Harry growled, "fine. Bye," Harry turned to leave when Benji stopped him.

"Wait, Harry, I got a job," Benji explained.

"I told you, I don't beat people up," Harry hissed.

"Not that kind of job, something straight up your alley. Some old fat bastard died yesterday, his place is empty, it's a good enough score. Plenty of old junk we can get rid off."

"So what do you need me for?" Harry asked.

"He has a safe, the old kind with a key, no dial, not tech. And the key is supposed to be on the fast bastard so we can't get it. Think you can open it?" Benji raised an eyebrow.

Harry thought for a moment, "half."

"A quarter."

"And first pick."

Benji growled, "fine. But you're not getting paid. You can take what you carry."

Harry agreed. He spent a few hours in the house, avoiding the drugged up hookers on the ground floor and killing idiots on the first floor. He had to control his emotions, one outburst of any kind and he was in trouble, no one could see him getting emotional about anything.

He knew that and he accepted that. He did prefer it if they did all their shit elsewhere though, but it was their house.

That night Harry and a bunch of Benji's men went out into the rich part of town in a white van. They snuck into the house, the guys took care of the silent alarm and other high tech security, gaining entry into the house.

When Harry stepped in he felt something was off. Everything was...new, or at the very least extremely well maintained. It almost felt like the guy who lived here never really lived here.

But before Harry could think further on the subject he was hurried forward by the men, telling him they needed to get into the safe and now.

Harry was taken down into the basement and presented with a giant door-sized safe built into the wall. Harry didn't really recognize the model, but he that it had a keyhole, he could break-in.

He looked into the keyhole and took out his tools, he was in front of other people, he couldn't his powers just yet.

He picked the lock slowly, in five minutes he had it opened.

"Good job kid," an older guy said ruffling Harry's head.

The guys quickly pulled open the door and Harry stepped back. The safe slowly resolved itself and inside was...nothing?

"Why is it empty? Did you get your guy get it wrong?" Harry asked confused.

"No, he was right on the money," suddenly Harry was picked up by the collar of his coat and thrown into the small cell-sized safe.

Harry got up and tried to run out only for the safe door to slam shut. Harry heard it click shut and the men walking away.

"Hey! Get back here! Set me free!" Harry banged the door, harder and harder. The safe was dark, he was so scared, it was like the closet under the stairs.

Why had they done this? Why?! Did Benji want him dead? No, no, it didn't make any sense!

Harry seeped to the ground crying, he couldn't help it, the fear and anxiety was too much for anyone to handle let alone a kid.

It was half an hour later when Harry ran out of tears to shed. He looked around, he needed to get out of here or die. He needed to break out. He felt the safe door, but he couldn't find a keyhole, he couldn't pick his way out of this.

So Harry resorted to his last option, brute force. Harry had tested his powers to the limits, trying to figure out what could work and what didn't. And he found that he could make his arms together on command.

So Harry did just that, he tightened the muscles in his hand, his bones became harder and iron. He turned to the metal door, drew back his fist and sent it flying forward.

Bang!

"AH!" Harry held his hand in pain. His knuckles were bleeding. He took batted breasts before punching the door again. And again. And again.

He was relentless in his efforts, punching the door over and over. And finally, it happened, his bone broke. Harry held his arm in pain, but he focused on the pain, mending his bones using his powers.

Slowly his bone was back to normal, his body allowed him to change the bones back to when it worked best, so now he didn't stop, punching the steel door again and again.

And then he heard a click.

Harry stepped back into one corner, if they were back to kill him he wouldn't go down without a fight.

He waited, the door opened and a beam of light came in, "hello? Harry?"

It was an old voice, a new one. But Harry didn't care, the only one who knew he was here were the people who left him here. So this man had to be one of them.

Harry jumped out and charged the tall shadowy figure.

"Oh!" the man gasped as Harry punched him in the knee, dropping him down before kneeing him in the face. The man had white hair and a large beard. He wore funny looking robes, but Harry didn't care, he ran away.

But the moment he stepped out of the safe the was faced with the tips of five wooden sticks. Harry was choked and stopped, five equally ridiculously dressed people were out here waiting for him.

Harry looked at them and the sticks, he scoffed, 'sticks? Really?' He ignored them and ran between the adults.

The adults looked surprised that Harry had just ignored them and was running away to the staircase.

Harry put one foot on the first step when suddenly a bolt of red light struck him in the back sending him down like a sack of potatoes. Harry fainted, he saw no more.

Much later:

Harry woke up, his eyes immediately adjusting themselves to the massive amount of light hanging over his head. He looked up, he was in a bed, people around him, unfamiliar, they had the same weird clothes on.

"Ah, he's awake!" said an old man with a beard and bruised nose. He was the man Harry had kneed in the face and right now h was giving the boy one of the most patronizing smiles he had ever seen in his life.

Harry looked around, he was in a hospital room of some kind, but there were no machines around and everything looked brand new.

The people around him were odd, to say the least. There were now four people, the old man, an old woman who looked around 60 with thin lips that looked like they never smiled, a man with a hooked nose and greasy hair and another man who was a dwarf and stood away from Harry to get a clear line of sight to the boy.

Harry realized he wasn't bound, he could escape, a plan formed in his head when suddenly the old man spoke up again, "I would advise against that plan Harry. While professor Flitwick is short, he is the most talented duelist in England maybe the world, you would not last a second against him. If you wish for a tip I would suggest trying to rush professor McGonagall over here," the man pointed to the woman, "she is a far better target."

Harry's eyes widened in horror, "how did you...how did you know what I was thinking?" HE had planned on overpowering the dwarf and running away, but for the life of him, Harry couldn't understand how the old man knew!

The old man smiled, "magic my dear boy. Magic."

Harry blinked, "what? Are you crazy?"

The greasy-haired man snorted, "were you not informed Potter of what you are?"

Harry looked at the man, "what am I?"

"You're a wizard Harry," the old man said with a smile.

"A what?!" Harry's eyes went wide, "a wizard?!"

"Yes, indeed," the old woman, McGonagall, replied as she took out a wooden stick and waved it around causing a bouquet of roses to come out of the tip. She took it out and gave it to Harry to hold.

Harry blinked as he stared at the wand, "okay...that's a good magic trick, but I've seen street performers do better."

The woman waved her wand causing sparks to float out reaching a candle on Harry's bedside table causing it to transform into a glass vase. She then flicked her wand causing water to pour into the vase before she took the bouquet of roses for Harry and put them into the vase.

She turned to him, "are your street performers able to do that?"

Harry gulped, "m-maybe?" He had to admit to himself, he had no idea.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, you are a wizard, and a very powerful one at that," the dwarf said with a smile, "we have been trying to find you for nearly three years now, ever since you ran away from your home."

Harry glared, they knew who he was, who he really was. He never let anyone get that close, he needed to know what they knew. "H-how did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy," the greasy man said with a snarl, "we had to resort to consort with muggle criminals to get to you."

Harry blinked, "muggle?"

"A term we use for nonmagical people," McGonagall informed.

Harry blinked, "so it's a slur like n****r?"

"Oh heavens no!" the old man replied immediately, "it's not an insult, merely a way to call people who aren't part of our society."

"I'm sorry, but what's going on?" Harry asked, "what society?"

"You see Harry, hidden inside the world you know, is the world of magic," said the dwarf, Flitwick Harry remembered, "we have been all hidden away from the sight of muggles and we have our own society and people. You are one of us...as were your parents."

And that stopped Harry's plans for escape, "y-you knew my parents?"

"Yes," the old man nodded, "we taught them, we were their teachers. Why Severus over there attended school the same year as them," he looked over to the greasy-haired man who looked away in a rage, not even meeting Harry's gaze.

Harry looked at the three grey-haired people in the room with him, wizards is they were to be believed. He gulped, he knew he shouldn't show emotions, shouldn't trust, but...the idea of knowing more about his parents...it was too much.

"W-what were their names?" Harry asked.

McGonagall's eyes went wide in horror, "what do you mean?"

"Their names, what was it?" Harry asked.

"Harry...you do know your parent's names yes?" the old man asked in carefully masked Dredd.

Harry was slow to shake his head, "no I...I don't. What were they?"

McGonagall shared a look with Dumbledore, she seemed to want to glare a hole into his back. The old man just sighed and spoke up, "James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. Two of the best and brightest students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching."

"I see..." Harry blinked, could he believe them? They had some kind o power, that's for sure, but can he believe a word they said? Wait! There was away! Harry looked at the old man, he seemed like the one in charge, "show me what they looked like."

The old man's eyes went soft as he smiled, "I'm sure I have a picture of them somewhere if you wish I can show you later."

"No, I want to see it now," Harry shot back, "turn into them."

Flitwick blinked, "Harry, what do you mean?"

"Can't you-" Harry stopped, should he reveal his secret? He had no choice, if he wanted to know more about his parents, he would need to earn their trust and more importantly their attention.

Harry sighed, "can't you transform? Aren't you supposed to be magic?"

McGonagall's eyes went wide in surprise, "Harry...can you show us this...power?"

Harry was cautious, he won't show them the other forms he used, but maybe a new one. He closed his eyes and imagined the old man's face. He felt his skin loosen and become covered with lines as his hair grew and turned white.

When he opened his eyes he meets with four sets of surprised eyes, all gasping in shock. McGonagall was the first to speak, "h-he's a metamorphmagus!"

"So that's why he has been so difficult to find," Flitwick muttered while Severus' glare darkened and the old man's shock to a smile.

Harry dropped his form, "what's a metamorphmagus?"

The old woman sighed and spoke up, "someone with the ability to transform...like you just did. It's a very rare skill, I have only ever met two other people with such an ability."

Harry blinked, "so there are other people like me?"

The woman nodded, "yes, but they are rare."

"C-could my parents do that?" Harry asked.

"James and Lily had many talents," the old man spoke up adjusting his glasses, "but no, this was not one of them. As Professor McGonagall said, it is a very rare skill, even to us magic users...tell me Harry, is this how you managed to stay hidden for so long?"

Harry slowly nodded, "yes...tell me more about my parents."

The man nodded, "I can, in time. But for now, I suppose it's best that you rest. I'm sure you're tired and-"

"-No!" Harry snapped, "I want you to tell me about them! Now! I have waited too long for this! You four are the only people I know who know my parents, so tell me what I want to know!"

The four looked at each other, worried looks on their faces. The old man stepped up, "very well, what do you wish to know?"

"W-where did they met?" Harry asked asking the first question that came to his mind.

"In Hogwarts," the man smiled.

"What's that?"

"A school for witches and wizards. The kind where we will teach magic, the place they wanted you to go," he reached into his robes and took out a letter giving it to Harry.

The boy took it and found his name on the front;

'To Harry Potter,

Room 231, St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries'

Harry blinked, "St. Mungo's?"

"The hospital we are in," the man explained.

Harry tore opened the envelope and found two letters inside;

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

The term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal vials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Harry's eyes went through the page quickly. He immediately looked up at the old woman, "you're the deputy Headmistress?"

The woman nodded, "yes I am. We are all teachers in the school. And we would very much like for you to attend Mr. Potter."

The old man nodded, "yes, the term will begin in two months, by then you should be able to get all the items in that letter."

"And what if I don't want to go?" Harry asked disliking the fact that once again choices were being made for him.

The greasy-haired man finally spoke up, "if you refuse to be a part of our society then you're magic will be bound and all knowledge of the magical world will be removed from your head."

"D-does that including my morphing powers?" Harry asked in surprise.

McGonagall nodded, "yes, there are ways to bind that power as well, though it involves binding one's magic. But yes, if you refuse to join, that will happen to you."

Harry was in a corner and he knew it. He can't run, obviously had something told him these people will find him faster this time around if he does manage to run away, especially if they know he can now transform.

So with a sigh, Harry asked, "how? Where do I even go to find all of these things?" he hadn't even heard of half these books!

"Do not worry," McGonagall replied, "I will assist you in that matter."

"Minerva, I'm sure Hagrid will be more than sufficient for that task," the old man argued.

"No, I'll do it," the woman stayed her position firmly, "it won't be any trouble, I assure you."

The old man nodded, "very well," he then turned to Harry, "now, about your living quarters. Tell me, Harry, where have you been staying all these years?"

Harry didn't trust the man, not one bit. No one could know about his hideaway, so he lied, "I lived on the streets, sometimes in abandoned buildings."

"I see...very well in that case until school begins you can stay with the Dursleys, I'll talk to them and make sure-"

"-No!" Harry yelled out, "I'm never going back there again! You can't make me! If you do I'll slit my fucking wrists do you understand me?!"

The adults looked shocked, Harry's personality was always so calm and collected, to see him be so enraged, it was truly surprising.

"Albus, perhaps it is for the best if we have him stay elsewhere," McGonagall said, "I don't think to send him to the Dursley's would be a good idea. You said it yourself the blood wards fell after the first year of his escape."

The old man slowly nodded, "yes...I suppose. Alright then Harry, I'll find other arrangements for you. I promise it will be a safe place," he said shooting off a disarming smile that Harry didn't trust one bit.

Harry nodded, "okay...but...who are you?"

The man smiled, "oh yes, I suppose I never did tell you my name. I'm Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter. I can promise you, the world you are about to enter is a place you will truly come to love."

Harry really doubted that.

Three days later:

For three days Harry spent in his hospital room being poked and proceed by doctors, or as they are known in the magical world, healers. Truly a stupid name for them, but whatever, they helped him get better.

Over the day's Harry discovered his body reacting faster, moving smoother and even just feeling better. According to the healers, he asked, apparently they used magic to fix him up from the inside. And the meals they gave made him feel full for the first time, no more half angry moments where he felt the energy leave him at all times of the day.

And on the fourth day, McGonagall returned, and this time brought Harry a new set of clothes to wear.

Looking down at the package in his hands Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, "where are my clothes?"

"We got rid of those rags the moment we brought you here," she snorted, turning her nose in disgust, "filthy thing smelt like a drain."

"And who exactly gave you the right to do that," Harry snarled, "it may not have been much, but it was my bloody coat, meaning only I could decide what to do with it."

The witch narrowed her eyes, "mind your tongue Mr. Potter, or I'll do so for you."

"Bite me," Harry hissed, dismissing the awful woman. He got up and went into the bathroom to change. He removed the awful set of robes the hospital gave him and put on a fresh set of clothes.

He stepped out wearing a pair of clean shorts, new shoes, and a black t-shirt. He looked up at McGonagall and groaned, "I hate these things."

The professor scoffed, "well I think you look lovely Mr. Potter. Now tuck in that shirt, I will not be escorting a ruffian."

Harry snorted, "fat chance."

"Mr. Potter you will do as I say," she warned.

"And as I said, fat chance," he snarled right back, "I dress the way I dress, who are you to tell me otherwise? Last I checked my mother was dead."

McGonagall's eyes widened by a fraction for a second, any other person would have missed it, but Harry wasn't any person, he was clever, and he paid attention. The woman knew something about his mom...maybe….they knew each other?

"Fine, come, follow me and don't tally behind," she turned and left, making Harry rush behind her. They weaved through the crowds in the magical hospital, every sight around them drawing Harry's eyes.

It was the first time in days he saw anything except those stupidly clean white walls of his hospital room. It was odd, he saw gurney's that moved on their own, some even levitating in the air. People moved around in those white robes identifying them as healers, most caring what Harry came to learn where not sticks but magic wands.

"Mr. Potter," the elderly witch called out, getting his attention as she waited for him at the exit. He stepped outside and immediately the hospital behind him seemed to vanished, replaced instead with an abandoned department store that was walled up for all to see.

"Wha-how?" Harry asked in a stupor.

"Our world is separated from the muggles, yes, but we still live with them, as such, we take measures to ensure our buildings and institutions remain hidden," the professor explained.

"But then what happens if someone without magic just walks in here by mistake?" Harry asked.

"Look around," she pointed out, "did you notice the way they walk?" Harry groaned as he did just that, seeing how the people seemed to walk around them and the store, avoiding the building, "it's a charm, meant to repel muggles away, keep them distracted."

HArry's' eyes widened, "how does that work? I mean, can it apply to anyone?"

"No, the muggle repelling charm is effective on only those, muggles, it doesn't affect us magically."

"But what about animals?" Harry asked, "or are they magical as well?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, impressed, "interesting observation Mr. Potter...yes, the charm does affect animals, but it is not as effective as on muggles as animals rely more on their instincts than thought to direct their actions."

"So the charms attacks people's mind and brainwashes them?" Harry concluded, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"I….I suppose, but it is not as disastrous as you think, it's harmless I assure you," McGongally explained as she held out her hand, "now grab on Mr. Potter, we have much to do and very little time to do it."

Harry was a little hesitant, but the woman was helpful enough. She answered his questions and while she might have lied, she didn't strike him as such a person. So with a little faith, he took her hand and held on tight.

"Good, now I suggest you take and deep breath as it tends to have a strong effect on first-timers," McGonagall explained.

Harry blinked, "first time for wh-AAAAA!" he cried out as suddenly she spun on her heel, causing the entire world to spin.

Harry felt his body lunch into the air, spinning as well, shoved into what felt like a small pipe, the pressure building as he felt his body being squeezed tightly into itself. The world spun faster and faster, and just as Harry felt he was going to lose his breakfast, it stopped.

Harry let go and dropped to his knees, holding his body upright by his arms and dry heaving hard.

"Hm, it seems you aren't quite about to adapt to Apparition just yet, but give it time, I'm sure you will get used to it," he heard the demented witch speak off in the distance, but most of his focus was on not vomiting right them.

"W-what was that?" he asked, his stomach churning, his body feeling receded.

"Apparition Mr. Potter, a wizarding form of transportation," she explained, "are you alright? Do you need a moment?"

"Geex? You bloody think?!" Harry snarled as his stomach reached once more, the bile almost coming out this time.

"Language," she wanted, though he felt her gently pat his back, giving a soothing feeling.

Soon Harry felt well enough to stand, and when he did, his brain stopped thinking as he looked out at the sight before him. His jaw unhinged in awe and his eyes winded to twice their size, "holy shit."

"Welcome Mr. Potter, to Diagon Alley," Prof. McGonagall smiled, ignoring his cursing for the time being as it was very much warranted.

She took him into the alley which was littered with stores on both sides and filled with people going about their normal day.

The people wore the strange robes Harry had gotten to see as normal over the past few days, but even then there were a few oddities, such as robes of atrocious colors like lime green and pink.

The stores themselves were amazing, Harry didn't understand what a few of them sold, some had glass jars filled with ingredients of some sort displayed, which Harry really couldn't identify, some had...brooms? What the hell were brooms doing being displayed like a valuable collection of diamonds?

It was seriously a strange sight for Harry, and while he did his best to hide his enthusiasm, McGonagall seemed to pick up on it as she began to talk, "here you can buy everything and anything you wish for your magical education. You can ingredients for potions there, a broom here, though I remind you first years aren't allowed brooms for safety reasons."

"Ah, no offense, but why would I want a dust sweeper?" Harry snorted as he eyed the brown twig.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. You see Mr. Potter in the wizarding world brooms are similar to what a muggle would call a bike. It's a slower mode of transportation that most, but it's mainly used to play Quidditch."

"What's Quidditch?" Harry asked confused. McGonagall stopped in her tracks and stared. She took a deep breath and sighed, a look of horror on her face. Harry noticed this and with a raised eyebrow continued, "something I said?"

"N-no Mr. Potter, it's just…. I never thought I would be the one to explain to you what Quidditch was...I never thought James Potter's son would even ask such a question."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, his full now on this strange topic he never heard off before.

"Your father," she began before sighing, "James...was an exceptional Quidditch player. An excellent chaser as any before him. He was honestly considering a career in the field before...before they had to hide."

"Hide? Hide from what?" Harry asked, his focus sharpened, desperate for more information about his parents.

"...A story from another time," McGonagall replied, "we have much to do."

"No," Harry replied stubbornly, "you will tell me what happened to them, or I won't move from this spot."

"Mr. Potter this is quite foolish," the woman sighed, "please, stop acting like a child."

"I don't care, McGonagall," Harry spat, "I want to know what happened to my parents, and I want to know now. I waited for ten years, I won't' wait anymore."

The woman looked at the boy before him, and for a second, the determination in those eyes reminded her of his mother. And if he was anything like her, she knew she had lost this battle of wills already.

So she sighed, "they were killed….they went into hiding but the man they were running from found them and…."

Harry's eyes narrowed, a sense of vengeance coming over him, "what is his name?"

She looked at the boy, "that is a long story. I promise I will tell you, but for now, we must continue. Please Mr. Po-Harry, I understand your eagerness but there is not much time to waste."

Harry met her eyes and sighed, "fine," she had helped him, given him the truth, maybe, so she earned a little leeway. But before they moved on Harry turned to the broom store again and this time looked at it with different eyes.

He imagined his father, a man whose face he never saw, smiling at him, ruffling his hair, bragging about how amazing a sportsman he was, how HArry was definitely going to be the same. Harry didn't know what brooms were used for, how one would even use a broom to play a sport, maybe it was like hockey, but he knew he wanted one.

"Can I buy one?" Harry asked, desperate for anything to remind him of his father.

"No," McGonagall said adjusting her glasses, "first-years are not allowed brooms," she the boy's disappointed and annoyed she sighed, "but I see no reason you cannot buy one next year. And who knows, maybe if you inherited your father's talent, you could perhaps play for your house team."

Harry smiled at the idea before he schooled his features and nodded, "right, lead the way."

McGonagall smiled stoically and nodded, "come along Mr. Potter." They began walking through the alley once more and as they did McGonagall continued to point out and explain what each shop sold, "there you will be able to buy most if not all your books. Of course next to it is where you can get your robes. You will need three full sets, but I recommend getting five. Much easier to clean."

"This will cost a lot won't it," Harry noted as he looked around, the robes alone might cut into whatever money they would give him.

"Yes, but not to worry, you will be able to afford it," McGonagall said with a node as she continued on.

They soon came before a gigantic marble building in the middle of the alley, at which the street split into two directions. The building had tall pillars with guards posted outside dressed in silver amour holding what looked to be real-life spears. Something Harry honestly didn't think people used anymore.

There was even a name given to this building is on the top of it was written in gold, 'Gringotts Wizarding Banks'. As they walked up the steps to the building Harry noticed a sign carved on the wall before them that served as a warning:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, a warning against stealing...it was almost a dare. Harry couldn't help smirk, wondering just why they thought they were good enough to put a challenge like this outside their doors.

They entered through, the surprisingly short guards outside sparing them a single glance. The inside of the building was surprisingly warm, the halls a golden brown with the smell of paper and wood hanging over everything.

And that was when Harry Potter met the first magical creature he ever saw as several dozen short but old looking being walked around them carrying stacks of papers and ledgers in their hands, dressed very much like a proper bank worker, suit and all. But they were anything but human.

"What the hell are these things?" Harry asked in shock.

"They are goblins Mr. Potter," McGonagall hissed, "and I suggest you mind your tone, they are quite prideful creatures and are known to be able to hold quite a grudge if insulted. Do you understand?"

Harry blinked but nodded, choosing to remain quiet and just follow the woman through. McGonagall did so, walking ahead to a teller booth and nodding before the goblin, "greeting goblin teller, I am here to make a withdrawal for Mr. Harry Potter."

The goblin stopped looking through his papers and looked up curiously, he noticed McGonagall and then turned his head to Harry, "and does Mr. Potter have his key?"

Harry didn't know what he meant by key, but McGonagall replied for him. "Yes, I have it right here," she pulled out a small golden key and presented it to the man-thing….creature.

It looked it over and nodded, "very well. We shall have someone guide you through," he handed the key back to McGonagall and called over the next in line.

As they walked away Harry turned to McGonagall, "what did you mean my key?"

"Your key to your trust vault," McGonagall explained as they walked briskly to the left where a small line was being formed leading to the lower portion of the bank, "your parents, of course, left you a small trust vault for your education purposes, the key will give you access to it."

"Wait….you mean to tell me, that I have money?" Harry's eyes winded, "why didn't anyone tell me?!"

"Well, in our defense, you have been missing for three years, and before that, you were too young to understand what all of this would mean. No offense, but a seven-year-old wouldn't understand what exactly a secret society is and why it should remain one."

"Who had it?" Harry asked, "you said whoever had the key had access to my key had to access the vault and my money, so who had it until now."

"Your magical guardian of course."

"And who is that?"

"Professor Dumbledore," she said and immediately Harry's eyes narrowed. He knew something was wrong with the man the moment he saw him. No one was that nice...he was after something and this just served as proof of his atelier motives.

He had access to his money, access to the money he would have never known about until someone told him. Harry was helpless, he could only ever know something if someone else deemed him worthy of it. Such a feeling of powerlessness made him uncomfortable….before, he had nothing to lose, but now...

They made it to the end of the line where they were escorted to a trolley of sorts by another goblin named Griphook. Obviously whoever named these things was high was something.

"I suggest you hang on tight Mr. Potter," McGonagall said as she grabbed the railings on the cart tightly, "this is going to be a very quick journey."

Harry wasn't sure what she meant but did as she suggested. And then, suddenly, the trolley flew forward with a burst of speed that almost threw Harry out of the cart.

"WOOHOO!" he cried out in unbridled joy as he felt his senses come alive for the first time in days. He always was reserved, always alert and cautious. He felt alive when he picked the pockets of people, excited, pushing him on the edge with the promise of danger. But this? This made him feel alive!

He cheered loudly, feeling all his worries wash away for a few seconds as the cart went up and down like a rollercoaster. And then as soon as it began, it came to a stop.

"That was effing brilliant!" Harry cried out.

"Language Mr. Potter! Or I will wash your mouth with soap!" McGonagall cried out.

The goblin, on the other hand, seemed amused, he stepped off and using Harry's key unlocked the vault. The doors to the stone doors opened and Harry was met with a sight that both excited and angered him.

The thrill of the ride just seconds ago vanished as he was left with a feeling of raw hate, "I had this much gold...to my name? For so long...and no one told me?! I had to live on the streets! Eat trash! And-and….who the hell thought it was right keeping this way from me?"

"I suggested it," McGonagall replied, causing Harry to snap at her.

"Explain. Now."

"You were only one when the Dursleys were to take you in Mr. Potter...and I knew of their dislike of all things magical," Harry nodded, recalling their hatred of anything that wasn't normal, "if they knew you had such wealth in your name they could have absconded with it. Hence, it was better to keep it safe and away from them, until you were old enough to be responsible for it yourself."

"Well, I think I'm old enough now, Griphook, my key," Harry held out his hand to the goblin who promptly placed the golden vault key in it. Harry squeezed it tightly and put it into his pocket, he would need to keep it somewhere safer later, but for now, this will do.

McGonagall sighed, "very well Mr. Potter. Come," she took out a pouch and with a flick of her wand several golden coins flew threw the air and into the pouch. She tightened the strings and pass the pouch to Harry who took it with a node.

The ride back Harry enjoyed a little less as the ides of having so much gold in his pocket weighed on him. All those years he lived in a hole, he could have been living like a king. And just because he didn't know.

He hated not knowing. All that time he spent alone, sure it was a rough life, but he understood the world, he understood what to do and how to do it. But now….there was just too much.

They exited the bank and McGonagall took him around the alley, checking off each item on their list to buy. First, they bought a trunk to keep his supplies, simple enough, nothing fancy. Then came his cauldron and potions making set, crystal valves and all.

Then McGonagall took him to take a bookstore, Flourish, and Blotts. While she ordered a set of this term's first year's books, Harry let his eyes wander around the store, spotting several sections of the store that had books on almost all topics, most of which Harry didn't even know the meaning of.

"Notice something you like?" McGonagall asked.

"No," he replied swiftly, "barely understand half of what these things are." And not because their titles spoke of magic. Growing up on the streets...one doesn't really pick up a full education on how to read. If Harry was honest, the number of books he would have to read intimidated him, but he didn't let weakness show, especially not to these people he didn't even know.

"Well, then perhaps something here can help you with that," she motioned him to follow as she walked into the shelf furthest from the doors and searched through them a while before picking out a large heavy looking tome and dropping it in Harry's hands.

'Hogwarts: A History', it took a while to read, but Harry finally did. He opened it up and browsed through the pages, picking up a few interesting things here and there. And then, near the end, he stopped turning, his eyes stuck on the 'Notable Alumni' part of the book.

James Charles Potter: Head boy for the year 1978. Notable achievements: Captain of the Gryffindor team that won the Quidditch House cup for four years straight. Trained to be the protege of Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody. Father of Harry James Potter, 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'.

Lily Evans: Head girl for the year of 1978. Notable achievements: 8 OWLS and 7 NEWTs. Was in the process of apprenticing as charms mistress in Gringotts curse-breaking course. Mother of Harry James Potter, 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'.

Harry's eyes felt like they were going to run dry at the rate tears seemed to flow down. Two pictures were above the titles. Two small pictures in a row of several dozen others. Pictures that anyone else would have ignored, but not him.

Then suddenly, the pictures started to move, smiling and waving, Harry's eyes winded and he snapped to McGonagall, "the pictures! I saw them move!"

Minerva nodded, "yes, a charm in the magical world."

"So...do all pictured move?"

"Yes."

"So….they can't see me?" Harry asked, they hope that it was him they were waving too came crashing down.

"No Harry….I'm afraid not."

"T-they looked so young," he whispered, noting just how….young they looked. His father looked like a bloke he would chat up on the street while on the way to the park while his mother looked like a barista girl he once got a free cup of coffee from once.

"Yes...they do," McGonagall's voice was softer now, almost broken, "many don't' realize, but James and Lily were just twenty when they had you...just twenty years old and….many assume they knew what they were doing, but I knew...they were just children….it wasn't right."

"You promised to tell me what happened to them," Harry reminded her, "please..."

McGonagall sighed, "I know...when we finish, I swear on Merlin...until then, come, I'm sure they would have rung up our purchase by now."

Harry nodded as he followed her. As he did he kept his eyes on the pictures in the book, the description below them. He ignored his name entirely, and the strange title next to it as well. It was unimportant, pointless even. He needed to know more about his father and mother.

"Who is Alastor Moody?" Harry noted the name of the man who his father was trained under, "why did he train my dad?"

"Mr. Moody is...an Auror," McGonagall explained, "a magical law enforcement officer."

"My dad was training to be a copper?" Harry blinked in surprise.

McGonagall nodded, "yes...you don't approve?"

"No...I..." he looked at the smiling face looking at him and waving, "I don't know...I spent three years hating coppers, and now I found out my dad wanted to be one...why?"

McGonagall shrugged, "your father was a man of action, he did not like just sitting around doing nothing. He was… he was a truly brave boy. Stupid at times, but brave. He wanted to protect people from those who took away people's lives, who hurt others….I suppose in a way he wanted what happened to his parents to never happen to anyone else."

"Wh-what happened to his parents?"

"They were….murdered….a crime that pushed James to be the man he soon became," McGonagall's eyes looked far away, memories playing out before her eyes.

"I see..." he then turned to his mother, "what was my mom?"

"Lily chose the field of being a Charm's mistress," McGonagall explained, "her skills in the subjects of Charms and Potions were exceptional, hence she decided to pursue the field delving into research that not even us professors could comprehend half the time."

"So, she was a genius?" Harry asked, pride swelling in his heart.

McGonagall nodded, "yes, they both were. Lily with her subjects, she excelled in potions, charms, and runes while James had his Quidditch and transfiguration skills."

"Trans-what?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Transfiguration, it is the subject I teach," she replied, "the art of transforming one object into another. It's actually the branch of magic which I suspect you might excel at given your abilities as a metamorphmagus."

Harry's eyes widened at hearing that, "so, I might a natural at the subject?"

McGonagall, "nothing of the sort. Why the other metamorphmagus I had taught was no better than average at the subject, but there is always a chance, one can never tell with talent."

Harry absorbed the knowledge with hunger, anything to know more about his parents. For the first time in his life, a book didn't intimidate him, he looked it down and swore to himself to dress this book down, strip it off any information it had on his parents and toss it aside like a cleanly picked leg of chicken.

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter gained a desire to read. As they reached the checkout counter the assistant behind the counter had their parcel ready and tied up in brown paper and tightly bound with string.

"That'll be 7 galleon and 12 sickles Professor," the clerk said a smile.

"We'll all be taking this," McGonagall replied, pointing to the time in Harry's hand.

"On, then it's an even eight galleon ma'am."

"Very well, Mr. Potter, please pay the lady."

"No, wait," Harry spoke up, turning to a curious McGonagall, "I want more."

"What would you like?" the clerk asked.

"Everything you have on charms, potions, transfiguration and….what was that other subject you said my mom was good at? Ruining?" Harry asked.

"Runes, and Mr. Potter I don't think that would be very wise," the woman replied, "I suggest for now you stick with a first year's text when you feel confident enough I'm sure you can come back and buy some more."

"No," Harry snapped, "you said my parents were geniuses, I'm not doing anything less," his eyes had that spark again, a determination that kept a boy living alone on the streets on his own for three years, determined to prove himself worthy to the memory of people he had never seen.

McGonagall sighed, "I will warn you, Mr. Potter, the subjects you have chosen are nothing to take lightly, the art of potions alone is complex enough, akin to the highest parts of our society, it will not be an easy endeavor, it will not be as simple as reading a book. Not to even mention the dangers the studies of transfiguration and charms possess. Attempting skills you have no understanding off can spell disastrous consequences...for you and others."

"I won't fail," Harry snapped, "now, the books. Please." At that moment, he forgot that he couldn't actually read to the age he was expected to...but then again he didn't care. This would make him closer to his parents, and for that, it didn't matter how long it would take him, it would do it.

The clerk turned to McGonagall who sighed and nodded, "give him the listing for everything until the fifth year, nothing else."

"Are there more?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but if you fail to even learn until the fifth year potions, you can forget the sixth and seventh years. They are practically another subject itself, do you understand Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't like it, but nodded, "fine. But if I become good enough?"

"Then I doubt anything objects I have would stop you. But until then, nothing doing."

With a verbal promise, that didn't mean much, Harry bought the books he wanted. It was honestly a bit much, even he would admit. Stacked before he was nearly thirty or something books, all thick as his arm. McGonagall seemed almost pleased at Harry's look of horror, though she said nothing.

She levitated the books into his trunk and closed it with a flick. Then, with a wave, sparks flew from her wand and hit the trunk, shrinking it down to the size of a matchbook.

"You used a...shrinking charm?" Harry guessed.

"You catch on quick Mr. Potter," McGonagall nodded.

"How do I unshrink it?"

"Tap it five times with your wand," McGonagall replied with a shrug.

"I don't have a wand."

"Yet," was her reply as she had Harry pocket his new smaller trunk and walked him out into a clothing store nearby.

Inside Harry was taken away by a plump older woman, who seemed to be a good friend with McGonagall by the way they acted. He was placed on a small pedestal as she took out a measuring tape, which flew out of her hand and began to take measurements on its own.

"How is it moving? Is it alive?" Harry asked as he stood with his hands apart, letting the woman and her tape take his measurements.

"Ha," the boy standing to Harry's left snorted in humor. Harry turned to him and for some reason, he hated the blonde pounce on sight. "What are you? Muggle? The tape isn't alive you doof, it's just charmed that way."

"That is quite enough," came McGonagall's stern voice causing the boy to stiffen in surprise as he finally seemed to notice Harry and him weren't the only people there, "and as for your question, the rude boy is correct, though judging by his behavior his knowledge is limited to magic and not much so in common manners."

"W-who do you think you are! Do you know who my family is?!" the boy squeaked.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, assistant Headmistress to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. And as for you, I don't particularly care who your family is, your actions alive given them a bad name."

The blond blushed and shut up while Harry smirked. It seemed he misjudged Minerva, it seems she had a mean side too.

The two boys kept silent for the rest of the measuring, though the blond was finished quicker. He left without a word and soon Harry was released too with a note to come back in hour out for the finished products.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

"And now, your wand," she replied, guiding him to a dusty looking store near the corner of the alley. They went just as a small family walked out with their son holding out a wand that shot sparks out the end. The father smiled as he rubbed the boy's head jokingly, the mother leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Harry spared that family a glance before turning and walking in, a disturbed McGonagall following right behind.

The store was similar to a pharmacy, with a counter upfront, a small coat hanger and seating area on the customer's side, while the other featured rows and rows of small shelves with boxes of all colors stacked together in a haphazard manner.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," a sound came from one corner causing Harry to jump in surprise. He watched as an old man with wild white hair and bright glowing blue eyes walked out from the back, his movements almost like a predator stalking his prey.

"You know me?" Harry asked, his senses warning him off something that fell off. But then again he was in a wand shop in the middle of a magic alley that sold special broom for some sport that sounded like an STD so maybe everything had to strange to make sense.

"Of course young Mr. Potter, I was told you would be coming today," he smiled, looking quickly to Minerva he smiled, "ah, Minerva McGonagall, 9 1/2" long, made of fir, and had a dragon heartstring wand is well suited to Transfiguration. All in working order I hope?"

The woman nodded, "quite so Garrick."

Harry blinked, "wait, your wand is made out of a dragon's heart? I thought it was just a stick?"

"No at all Mr. Potter, for you see, a wizard's wand is more than just plain wood. Inside the core in each one is a piece of a magical creature infused into it, allowing the user to perform his or her magic," Garrick explained as he went to his shelves and took out a long brown box.

"Everyone has a different wand and each is unique, just as no two creatures are the same, no two wands can be the same," he took out a long brown wand from the box and handed it, Harry, handle first, "birch, 12 inches, dragon heartstring."

Harry took the wand and raised an eyebrow. The wood felt odd in his hand, uneasy even. He turned to the vase on Ollivander's counter and waved, imaging it transforming like he remembered McGonagall doing.

KRACK!

The vase explodes, shattering apart, much to everyone's shock. "Not that one I would think," McGonagall muttered as with a wave of her wand the vase seemed to put itself back together.

"Magic is so cool," Harry whispered, watching the pieces fit together, much to the amusement of the adults around him.

"Yes, well, we must continue," the man cleared his throat. He went back and soon came back with another wand in hand. "10¼", Willow, unicorn tail hair."

Harry took it, and though it is felt...warm for a second, his attempt at magic once again resulted in the vase exploding, much to McGonagall's irritation as she once again fixed the vase.

"Try this," Oliver said, already with another wand in hand, "11" mahogany, dragon heartstring."

Another wave, and while Harry didn't break the vase this time, he didn't feel anything...magical about this thing at all.

"Hm….I wonder," Oliver whispered as he went back one more time, only to return with a black wand box that was held like a priceless treasure. He took the wand and without another word passed it to Harry.

The moment Harry touched the wand, the world seemed to come alive. His eyes winded in...power. This...this was it. Harry turned to the vase and flicked the wand, imagining the vase turning into a fish tank, and to everyone's shock, the vase moved.

It morphed, and while the result wasn't a fish tank, the vase was undoubtedly wider and more transparent than before.

"Amazing," Olivader whispered, "he's a natural. Why Minerva I do believe you have found your next star pupil right here."

Harry smirked as he turned to a still shocked Minerva, "See, told you I can handle it."

"I-I..." she didn't know what to say.

Harry turned to Ollivander and nodded, "thanks...what's it made out of?"

"Holly...and the tail feather of a phoenix….it's most suited for powerful spells and is quite...resilient. One must work hard to gain its allegiance."

"You talk as if they are alive….are they?"

"In a way, I suppose..." the man hummed, "it is curious though that you would get this wand...when it's brother gave you your scar."

Harry froze, he reached out with his senses and sure enough, his scar was still hidden away thanks to his metamorphmagus powers. He had always hidden it, it made him stand out too much, he hated that thing.

But now, he didn't know how, but this man knew about it, and he spoke about one of his biggest held secrets as if it was an open fact. With his eyes, wide Harry stammered, "h-how do you know about that?"

Ollivander blinked, "about which? Your scar?"

"Yes, I've hidden it, you shouldn't be able to see it, so how do you know I have a scar?!" Harry cried out as he leveled his wand at Ollivander's nose, knowing full well such action was stupid as he didn't really know how to use this thing, but the very act itself made him feel more secure.

"Mr. Potter, calm yourself," McGonagall spoke softly, "we all know of your scar, every single man, woman, and child in the wizarding world does...even if you do hide it."

"What? Why?! Why does everyone know about a stupid scar?!" Harry cried out.

Ollivander's eyes winded, "you mean no one told you? Minerva-"

"-It was to be our conversation at lunch...which I suppose it is time for," she sighed, "come Mr. Potter...pay Mr. Ollivander, it is time you got your answers."

Harry did so without another word. He followed McGonagall back to the entrance of the alley wherein they entered a pub and sat near the back. McGonagall ordered lunch for both of them and then began her long and dangerous tale.

An hour later:

"His name," Harry asked, his hands shaking, "what was it."

"We do not say it lightly Mr. Potter," McGonagall admitted, "we who remember the war don't wish to say it out of fear...fear that was well earned."

"I don't care about your superstitions. Tell me the name of the bastard who killed my parents!"

McGonagall didn't object to his use of profanity this time. She sighed and whispered, "Voldemort."

Harry's eye twitched, "Voldemort?" to which McGonagall flinched, "how can you be afraid of such a silly name? It sounds like a homemade bleach you would feed to kill animals."

"Do not make light of the name Mr. Potter," McGonagall hissed, "there are still those out there who believed in-in...you-know-who's teachings. People who wish to carry out what he started...you do not want to make yourself a target."

"From what you tell me, I'm already a target," Harry snorted as he played with his half-eaten pie. It was all a giant revelation. Not only was he a nobody, but he was also, in fact, the biggest celebrity in the magical world. Someone who had lived against a murderous mad man while hundreds of others died. Maybe that made him special, but as far as Harry knew, that just made him a target.

"Does everyone know about me?" Harry asked.

"Yes, there is not a single person raised in a magical society who doesn't know about you and what happened on that night," McGonagall replied as she sipped on her cup of tea.

"I see… the people who followed him, are they still around?" Harry asked.

"Yes, most escaped conviction, some were put away for life but none are foolish enough to try and attack you in Hogwarts if that's what you are afraid of. It's the safest place in all of Britain I assure you."

"No, it's not that," Harry snarled, stabbing his fork into the plate, "if the tosser who killed my parents is dead then I can't kill him. The only people I can go after now are those fuckers who followed him. I want them to come after me, I want them to try. Because I'll be waiting for them."

"Mr. Potter! I will have no such talk while at school do you understand me? While I understand your upbringing might have been more difficult than others, you will be attending school with children who are still innocent, do you understand me? I will not let your behavior stand as a model for them."

"Why the hell should I stop acting like me?!" Harry cried out, slamming his hands on the table, "who care what a bunch of stupid brats do?"

"Whether you like it or not Mr. Potter you are a role model for all children your age, as such you are expected to act according to your station, do you understand?"

"...whatever," he tossed the fork away, leaving back on his seat in frustration, "what now?" he tapped the shrunken trunk in his pocket, "we have everything, what happens now? You going to put me back in the hospital?"

"No, nothing of the sort," McGonagall replied, "Professor Dumbledore had found a foster family for you, someone to take care of you until you begin your Hogwarts year."

"I don't need anything from that man," Harry hissed, "least of all parents. I'll be fine on my own. Just tell me how to get there and I'll be there. I can manage on my own."

"Unacceptable, you will stay there Mr. Potter and that's final," McGonagall said in her strictest tone possible, receiving a glare for her trouble. Sighing the woman shook her head, "think of it like this Mr. Potter, the people you will be staying with are magical, if you ask, and behave yourself, I'm sure they would be able to help you learn your subjects faster than you would on your own...plus do a warm bed and home-cooked meals really sound so bad?"

Harry snorted, "it does when there are conditions and strings attached."

"There are no strings attached in this case Mr. Potter, believe me."

"If Dumbledore did it, then I highly doubt that."

"Mr. Potter, may I ask just why your opinion of the headmaster is so poor? Why do you dislike him so much?"

"Simple, I don't like following orders. It's as simple as that. But….you're right. If they can help me learn more about this world then fine. But I'm warning you right now if they turn out to be the sort of people who hit children for fun I won't hesitate to vanish, and I promise this time you people won't be able to find me."

"I don't believe that would be a problem."

Ten minutes later:

"Welcome Harry!" they cried out as one. There was a banner above with the same words, a cake in the middle with candles and several dozen party poppers which had gone off at once covering everyone, including an amused McGonagall and an annoyed Harry with confetti.

"Oh no, this is much worse," Harry grumbled.

"Harry Potter, these are the Tonks," McGonagall introduced them one by one, "this is Theodore Tonks," the man had sandy brown hair, blue sweater and a beige set of slacks, "Andromeda Tonks," the woman had rivets of curly black hair with dark blue eyes and high cheekbones. While time had caught up with her, her loveliness couldn't be ignored.

"And finally Nym-"

"Tonks! Just Tonks!" the third member cried out with a smile as she jumped forward with a bright million-volt smile. Purple sweater with maroon jeans and bright neon pink haircut short. The textbook definition of punk. She smiled down at Harry and gave him a thumbs-up, "wotcher Harry! We're your new family!"

Harry turned to McGonagall, "I'm going back to the sewers."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"We are in Reading right now. It would take you well over a week to walk back to London, maybe. It would take us two hours to track down if you ran away."

"...I could hire a cab."

"With what money?"

"I have a pouch of gold coins."

"Wizarding money has been charmed to look like iron coins whenever a muggle sees it."

"...Fuck."

"Language," replied both Minerva and Andromeda Harry smacked his head, forget learning magic, he just knew living here was going to be one of his biggest trials in life.

I just decided to give this a shot, I just dropped my last story because it was boring and wasn't going anywhere, but I already wrote a lot for this. Tell me what you think. And stay safe out there, the Coronavirus is a deadly thing.