Michael rose to his feet suddenly, and Harry molded himself back into the chair behind him, wondering if he had done somthing wrong. Wondering if he was going to be punished.

Michael did his best to ignore the action, but he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the small signs that were cropping up here and there. Signs of abuse, of neglect. The way the boy --Harry -- shied away from his touch, the way he refused to speak of his relatives. They way those same relatives were absent, letting him make one of the most important decisions of his magical life on his own.

Maybe Harry had never been physically abused, maybe he had. There was no way to tell, since there were no bruises apparent on his lower arms or face -- the only parts of him visible. And that was another thing -- the child's clothes. His pants were several sizes too big for him, dragging on the ground over what appeared to be old, worn sneakers. Those, at least, fit, although one could tell they were becoming too small for the boy as he outgrew them. His shirt was much too heavy for this time of year, and for some odd reason he was wearing a hooded, zip-up sweater over it. In case he got cold? The clothes were all clean, at least, and it was possible that it was raining in London. Perhaps it was even cold. England wasn't known for it's tropical weather, after all. Part of the reason he made his home here in Italy.

All this went through his head as Michael retrieved a few pamphlets from a small corner of the magazine rack. Like all of the other magical book sand magazines in the shop, it had a small repelling charm if you happened to be muggle, and this one had another charm on top of that -- an enticement charm if you were magical, and under 11 years old. He had seen Harry's eyes going to it more than once, but the boy was too well behaved to say anything. That was the polite way to say that he was too afraid of punishment if he asked questions.

Because he didn't. Ask questions, that is. All he did was sit there and soak up whatever information Michael felt like throwing his way. It was sad, really, especially considering who he was. It would have been sad either way, to be honest, and wrong. But, him being Harry Potter ... it added the extra bit of spice to the recipe, that extra oomph.

Handing the pamphlets to the boy, Michael re-took his seat, forcing a smile he didn't really feel on to his face. Harry returned the smile weakly, before dropping his eyes to the pile of pamphlets in his lap with a frown.

"Just some of the more well-known schools you might be interested in, along with a couple of year-round schools. They aren't very popular, as I'm sure you can imagine, most children not wanting to be seperated from their parents -- and most parents not wanting to lose nearly all contact with their children. In your case, though, it might be something to look into."

Harry glanced up sharply at that, and Michael cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his gaze to Aaron, whos simply shrugged with a small smile on his face. Michael quickly refocused on his young companion, offering a tight stmile before he continued.

"Many of the smaller schools are seperated by sex, just as Durmstrang is. Obviously, you would be attending an all boys school if you chose one of those, but they will often meet with other schools for formal functions -- dances, holiday celebrations, the like. You should definately look over those carefully, maybe find somebody else to look over them with you -- an adult, preferably." Michael paused again, sighing. "I'm really not sure what else I can tell you, other than to choose carefully -- this decision will affect the rest of your life, my boy."

Harry nodded distractedly at that, already skimming over the front of one of the smaller, year-round schools' pamphlet, eyes constantly moving as he took in both the words, and the pictures of the grounds.

Aaron rose to his feet, rubbing a hand across his forehead as he watched the young boy. Sharing a glance with Michael, he laid a hand on Harry's sholder, smiling as the boy jumped in his seat, startled. "We'd better get you home, Harry. It's getting late."

Harry nodded, tucking the pamphlet back into the pile and rising to his feet. "Thank you, sir, for these. They all look amazing!" Harry grinned up at the older man, although he seemed slightly wary or something. He wasn't about to get hugged, was he? Michael seemed to sense what he was thinking, because he let out a bark of a laugh, ruffling the boy's already messy black hair. "Not a problem. But remember what I said -- think carefully, and find somebody to look at those with you. It's not a decision to make lightly, Harry."

Harry nodded, a slight blush staining his cheeks as he turned to follow Aaron out, who had simply raised a hand to the older msn, giving him a slight salute before turning to lead his young companion out. Michael shook his head, a small smile touching his lips as the man's antics, before he moved to straighten some of the magazines.

Harry stared down at the leaflets in his hands, idly thumbing through the many pages Michael had given him. The older man had insisted that he be called Michael, and in truth, he had been nice. It almost seemed like everybody in the wizarding world was nice, bar none. Maybe they were a bit eccentric, what with their obsession with shaking his hand and drinking ungodly amounts of tea -- it was so bitter! -- but that was okay. At least Michael hadn't stared at his scar like the others had. Even Aaron had seemed to notice his forehead more than the rest of him. Was this what it was like to be a celebrity?

It was wierd, thinking of himself as a celebrity, as somebody people would actually want to see, to talk to. Somebody that people liked. He wasn't used to being liked. Every once in a while, there would be another kid at school who was nice to him, but they never tried to play with him for very long -- his cousin made sure of that. He wasn't quite sure why Dudley didn't want anybody else to like him, just knew that the larger boy seemed fixated with making sure he didn't have any friends. That was okay, though -- he had plenty of fun by himself. He could have had more fun with other kids, sure, but ...

And why was he thinking about Dudley at a time like this? Of all the things he could have been thiking about, this should have been the last on his list.

They weren't on their way to his relatives.That had been an ... interesting trip, to say the least. Uncle Vernon had been less than pleased to see him, although he had allowed them inside for propriety's sake ...

Harry shifted uncomfortable in the front hall, clutching the pamphlets Michael had given him to his chest. Uncle Vernon was speaking quietly to Aunt Petunia now, down the hall a bit. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were obviously arguing about something. Which was odd, because usually Uncle Vernon's word was law in the house. They weren't shouting, no -- which was good, since he hated it when Uncle Vernons shouted -- but they were gesturing wildly with their hands, standing close togeather. Aunt Petunia was even glaring at Uncle Vernon. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen that. If he ever had.

Aunt Petunia sighed suddenly, turning toward them. Harry straightened, looking at her quizzicly, wondering why he hadn't been allowed up to his room yet. Were they going to move him back down to his cupboard? That wouldn't be so bad. Sure, it was cramped, but he was used to it. He felt safe there. And besdies, Dudley would stop complaining about losing his second bedroom.

Petunia didn't move all the way toward them, however, instead turning into the kitchen with a shake of her head. Should he go in there, too? Start lunch like he usually did during the summer?

Apparently not. Uncle Vernon had stepped in front of them now, an angry scowl on his ruddy face. Arguing with his face had definately not improved his attitude any. "I thought I told you he wasn't welcome back here? And neither are you. Get out of my house."

Aaron simply stared at the rotound man for a second, almost unable to comprehend what he was saying. "He is your nephew, not some strange child on the street! Even then this would be unacceptable, but to do it to your own nephew?" Aaron wasn't sure when he had reached for his wand, but he had the presense of mind, at least, not to point it at the larger man. That could only end in trouble.

"He's nothing but trouble, always has been. Only reason we ever took him in, was that stupid old man who claimed there was some spell that would backfire on us if we refused it. Barmy old coot. Should never have listened to him." The last was muttered under Vernon's breath, but Aaron wouldn't help but notice how he said the word "spell" as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Worst kind of magic haters, indeed. He had thought this kind of prejudice only existed in the wizarding world. Apparently, even the most modern of muggles could have the most old fashioned of ideas and beliefs.

Drawing a deep breath, Aaron's hand tightened around his wand, as he bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry ventured, biting down on his llower lip as his uncle turned a furious glare at him. "Can I ... get my things?" Harry bounced the toe of his sneaker against the floor, but he didn't take his eyes off his uncle. To do so would have been rude, and he was never rude to his uncle.

"Get it, and get out." Vernon turned and stopped into the kitchen swinging the door closed behind him, effectively blocking him from sight. Aaron could only watch as Harry climbed the stairs, at a losss for what to do.

And so they were on their way to a wizarding orphanage. Aaron certaintly wasn't going to leave his young charge with muggles again, or so he had said. Harry didn't see what was upsetting him so much -- they weren't his relatives, he wasn't the one being put out. So why was he so upset? But he was, and Harry couldn't help feeling a little guilty about that.

The orphanage was on the coast, he said, an easy trip to Durmstrang if Harry decided he wanted to attend there.He claimed it was nice, that the proprietors cared about the children they boarded there. Harry was still skeptical, though. An orphanage was an orphanage, and all he had ever heard was how badly children were treated there. How they were beaten, for even the smallest mistake. Not allowed to go to school, they invariably ended up junkies and criminals. That was what his aunt and uncle had told him.

Leaning heavily against the side of Knight Bus, Harry gave a small sigh. As happy as he was that they hadn't taken the Floo again, he almost wished they had, in the same breath. At least they would be there by now, and he wouldn't have this constant worry of not knowing what to expect. The orphanage was cut off from the floo, however. They couldn't afford to have a connection put in, Aaron said, and Harry had to wonder how he knew so much about the orphanage. Did many Durmstrang students come from there?

Turning his head slightly so that he could stare out the window, Harry watched the countryside wizz by with some surprise. He hadn't realised they were so far away from London.

"Go to sleep, Harry. I'll wake you up when we get there." Aaron smiled at his young companion, forcing himself to act more carefree than he felt.

Was this his fault? Their fault, for wanting the beloved Boy Who Lived to attend their school? The boy had lost his family, his home, all because they wanted to show up Hogwarts. If they had never come ...

But surely somebody else would have. Surely another school would have sent somebody, tried to make contact. Although, if Albus Dumbledore was spinning some lie about spells and enchantments to keep the boy with the relatives of his choosing, then he could very well be monitoring his mail. How many oppurtunities had the child missed, because of a barmy old man with too much power -- and time, apparently -- on his hands?

Shifting slightly in his seat, Aaron turned his head and stared out the window that Harry had been gazing out a few moments before. They boy's eyes were now closed, doing his best to follow Aaron's instructions. Not that he had really meant them as an order, but the child had an annoying habit of doing as he was told. Normally this would have been a good trait in a child, but Harry took to an extreme he had never seen in his youth. As if he was deathly frightened of what would happen if didn't obey. Madame Finch would be pleased, at least. Harry didn't seem the type to get in to a lot of trouble.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep, but he must have, for the next thing Harry remembered was Aaron shaking him awake. Blinking open his eyes, he tried to return the small smile that Aaron was giving him, sitting up straighter and following Aaron off the buss with a yawn. He walked unsteadily at first, but b the time they had stepped on to the road, he had once again found his balance.

Before them lay a stone path, many of the stones loose and showing the signs of wear and tear, after years of being trod carelessly over by children and adult alike. The house itself was more like a manor, although it had seen better days. All in all, it was a sad building, but Harry couldn't help but like it, somehow. He could hear the sounds of children playing, although he couldn't see them yet. A gardener loitered out front, obviously taking his time as he sniped slowly at the bushes, although they looked perfectly trimmed to Harry. Did he get paid by the hour? Was that why he was hanging around for so long?

As they stepped up on to the front porch, the sound of children playing got closer, a nd all of a sudden they were there, panting int he doorway. Two of them were taller than the rest, with flaming red hair and blue eyes that marked them easily as family. The other three were of varying colors and body types -- one dark-haired black boy, one asian girl with soft brown eyes, and another white boy with blonde hair and pale blue eyes, almost gray as the sun hit his face.

Aaron smiled at them, though they took a moment to notice him, more interested in the newest addition to their home -- the bag slung over his shoulder, and the bird cage he held in his hand was silent testimony to the fact that he was there to stay -- at least for a little while.

One of the red-heads, a boy, stepped forward, a grin on his face. "David." He held out his hand, and Harry tentatively took it, causing the boy to grin even wider. "Harry." The boy's sister stepped forward next, smiling and holding her hand out as well. "Amy. I'm David's sister." Harry shook his head, nodding.

And so it continued. The asain girl was Keiko, small and quiet. The blonde haired boy was Ian, his voice so soft that Ha rry had to strain to hear it. Amy piped up when he said his name, offering a bit more information. "He's a squib, so he's here all year long. The rest of us go to Durmstrang." At Harry's look of confusion, she continued. "His parents are magical, but he can't use magic. So they sent him here."

Ian sent her a glare for that, rossing his arms an drocking back on his heels as he stared down at the ground. Amy merely shrugged her shoulders, giving him a quick glance before turning back to Harry and grinning.

"Now that we've all been introduced ..." Aaron started, earning hi a roll of the eyes from Amy, "I have to bring Harry inside before we all get in trouble."

" You can't get in trouble, Aaron! You don't even live here." Amy gave Aaron a long-suffering look, and Harry idly wondered if this was the way he would be expected to act. Impolite, abrasive, talking back to his elders ... if he had ever dared to talk to Uncle Vernon like that, he would have been locked in his cupboard without food for a week, at least!

"Have you ever heard that womain yell? She's downright scary!" Aaron exclaimed, an exaggerated look of horror on his face, forgetting for a moment that Harry was still standing beside him, listening to every word he said.

Harry swallowed nervously, staring down at the ground. So, nothing much had changed. He just had another person to scream at him. Although, maybe since there wo many other kids here, she wouldn't be yelling at him all the time. And he would be going away to school soon ... so maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

Aaron reached over, ruffling the girl's hair affectionately. Emily, of course, found nothing good about this action, ducking out from under his hand and complaining loudly about the state her hair was now in. Aarons imply laughed out loud, beckoning with one hand for Harry to follow him. The youth trudged after him, glancing over his shoulder in time to see the boy -- David -- waving at him, whil the others simply watched them go, talking amongst themselves. Harry gave a short, uncomfortable wave back, unfamiliar with people being nice to him. It was ... different. Not bad, just different.

The door closed behind them, and Harry shivered at the sudden coolness of the entrance room. There were sneakers and other shoes piled beside the door, and a small boy glanced up from the large table that dominated the front room, eyes going wide before he darted out from his chair and down the hall. A moment later, a older woman appeared, brown eyes taking in the two travel-worn companions and the small bag Harry carried.

"Aaron!" She bustled over to them, enveloping the man in a warm hug, smoothing his hair as she pulled away.

Then she turned to Harry.

--

Why stop here? Mostly because I'm not one hundred percent sure what's going to happen next. And also, I wanted to get this chapter out-- finially! I haven't abandoned this story, never fear! It's just taken me a while to get it out, what with moving and losing both my computer and the internet for a while. Enjoy!