Chapter I

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The winds whipped through the narrow streets of London, the unusually chilly June weather forcing those on the streets to seek shelter indoors from the blustery weather. Only those with nowhere else to turn, no place to seek immediate shelter, walked on the windy streets. An unassuming small boy was one of those few.

He was indeed small, perhaps ten at the oldest, wearing a worn out red jacket, his shaggy, unkempt black hair flying around in the wind, occasionally revealing an odd lightning-shaped scar on is forehead. He wore round spectacles, tape wrapping the middle to keep the old pair from falling apart altogether. He had ragged jeans on as well, patches where they had ripped before, the bottoms folded up to keep the just-too-large trousers from scraping along the ground.

He was, by all accounts, completely… un-unusual. His only noticeable feature, the only aspect of this slightly too skinny boy, walking down the deserted streets of London alone, was his piercing, green eyes. They betrayed all his emotion, his happiness, his sadness, his loneliness, all reflected through those striking green orbs for all the world to see.

The winds quieted somewhat, the road becoming a bit calmer. His jacket stopped flapping against his skinny frame, allowing him to pick his head up from the collar of his jacket, to glance at the street around him.

On the opposite walkway, just turning a corner was a family of three. A handsome man with black hair, square frames resting on his nose and a pretty, petite woman with long red hair, her kind eyes visible even from this distance. They were swinging a young boy, only four or five, lightly into the air, his laughter showing how much he enjoyed it. They all wore large grins, walking side by side down the streets of London, no doubt walking towards their home. They seemed carefree, just enjoying each other's company, the love they shared almost palpable, even from the opposite side of the street.

The green eyed boy watched them as they walked down the street, his eyes betraying his longing. The family seemed so happy, so content. He watched them, wondering what it was like, until they rounded the corner, gone from view, gone from his life.

The winds picked up again, forcing him to bring up the collar of his faded jacket, trying to shield his face from the cold breeze. With one last look, he turned away, returning to his walk down the once again silent street, his pace slower than before.

He walked down the still street a few yards more before turning past an old iron-gate fence, the clinking of the gate disturbing the empty streets of the English city. Walking up the path to an ancient, but clean, small building, his aged sneakers impacted the slightly-cracked concrete softly. The lawn was covered in second-hand toys, every free space filled small ragged dolls, duct-taped plastic big wheels, and even a patched football.

The small boy ignored these, well used to their presence, patches of green grass dispersed through the largely dried, brown lawn. He walked confidently up to the worn white door, the paint peeling in several places both on the door and its surrounding frame.

He ignored the sign above the door as well, well used to seeing the large, faded black letters that marked his home. The only home he could ever remember.

St. Godric's Orphanage

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The door creaked as he removed it from its ancient frame, the hinges on the wall signaling their protest loudly. Though the lawn outside was deserted, more than likely due to the harsh wind storm blowing through the Southern English city, the inside was anything but.

The inside of the tiny building was cramped, but well lighted. The sparse pictures on the wall were hung straight, but the paint from their frames and even the wall behind them were peeling. The hallway was a war zone of sorts, small children, all dragging worn toys or faded shirts, running throughout the house, their boundless energy having no outlet. Their sound, the sound of children enjoying whatever meager toys and fun they had, rang through the cramped spaces of the building.

Suddenly, an elderly woman, with a kind face, but tired, overworked eyes rounded the corner, chasing a small boy of perhaps five. His untidy brown hair flapping against his head as he sprinted from the Caretaker, laughing innocently as he initiated a one-way game of tag. It was the small boy who noticed the raven-haired older boy standing by the now closed door, a soft grin on his features.

"Harry!" he shouted, sprinting into the open arms of the ten-year-old boy, laughing as the elderly Caretaker sighed audibly behind him.

"Oh thank goodness your back" she sighed, her kind, wrinkled face splitting into a tired grin. "I'm at my wits end keeping this one!"

"I don't doubt it Mrs. Marshwater" he laughed back, looking down at the young boy in his arms. Though only ten, Harry acted mature for his age, more from necessity than anything else. It was only Mr. and Mrs. Marshwater that ran the entire orphanage, both working overtime, relying on a tiny sum of charity to keep the orphanage open.

They cared for their wards, trying to give each the attention and care they needed, but times were tough. There wasn't much money coming in and the bills never stopped piling up. Harry had begun at an early age to help the elderly couple with their duties, first with rounding up the discarded toys outside when he was little, to now, when he used his own energy to keep control over the more energetic children, such as little Danny, still hugging his chest.

"How many times have I told you to call me Martha, not Mrs. Marshwater?" she sighed, the daily tradition started.

"Too many times Mrs. Marshwater" he grinned back, earning a smile of his own from the good-natured Caretaker.

Her blue eyes moved to the squirming five-year-old before Harry, her fine, white hair still disheveled, no doubt from chasing the rascal throughout the house. "And you! It's time for Math young man, now trudge your little behind back to your desk" she stated sternly, causing the small boy to hold on to Harry tighter, his large, pleading eyes meeting Harry's green eyes, alight with amusement.

"But its Math!" he whined, dragging out the word for emphasis. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the adorable reaction. "And Harry's home from school! Why can't I play with him instead of learning…Math!" added, shivering as he spoke the final word, the subject no doubt the bane of existence.

"I think you should listen to her Danny, if you don't finish your school work now I might not have time to read your bedtime story to you later" he spoke, showing the boy a small frown. The effect was instantaneous, the little brown-haired boy opening his mouth comically, before racing down the hall towards his desk with renewed vigor to finish his division. Reading Tracy and Chase and the Five Dragon Race with Harry was his favorite part of the day, no division was going to stop that!

"You're a life saver" Mrs. Marshwater sighed, peering down the hall to see Danny busily working on his homework problems. "Hm, you're home a little later than usual though, everything alright at school dear?" she asked curiously. She hadn't exaggerated when she called Harry a lifesaver. He had been helping her and her husband for years now, only a little at first, but now that he was older, he was great with the young ones, patient and caring with all of them.

It was actually sad that he was still here. Not because she didn't want him, she loved him dearly, but he should have gone to a family long ago, to a home where he could have loving parents, every bit as great and caring as he was. But he was ten now, almost eleven, and nobody adopted children that old. Couples wanted babies, babies they could raise as their own, not ten year old boys, halfway grown up already.

"Oh, well today was the last day of school you know. My Teacher wanted to talk to me after class" he explained, moving to tidy up the toys on the creaking, wooden staircase near the door.

"I hope nothing is wrong" she answered worriedly. Harry was always so great while he was here, she couldn't imagine he made trouble at school.

"Oh no, nothing like that" he replied quickly, glad that she cared enough to be worried about him. "She actually wanted to talk to me about my grades a little" he added, though a bit sheepishly, moving to pick up a young girl, no older than a year, from the floor, dropping her softly in the closed-off pen near the small nursery.

Most of the rooms were downstairs; including the kitchens, nursery, and other miscellaneous rooms, such as the makeshift classroom Danny was working in now. All of the sleeping quarters were upstairs; the small rooms shared by at least four people each. Space was tight, but they managed. It helped the young children learn to play together and get along as well, as proven by the many sounds of laughter ringing through the tiny building.

"Your grades? But you've always done so well" she answered worriedly again. Harry was a bright child, so much potential. She couldn't help but think how'd great he'd be if he could just get away from here.

"Yes, that's actually what she wanted to talk to me about. You see, there's this program that the school sponsors. Each of the Teachers recommend a student from their class and then they all vote to select one child from the entire school. There's this prestigious boarding school, near Wales I think, that pays full tuition for its students. The school has some connection with them and they send one child every year. Well, I won I guess, my Teacher recommended me a few weeks ago" he answered with a smile, calming the elderly woman.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful! I'm so proud!" she answered honestly. "When do you attend?" she asked, happy that someone had recognized the young boy for how truly wonderful he was.

"I turned it down" he answered, glancing up at the surprised blue eyes of Mrs. Marshwater.

"But why?" she asked surprised. "It sounds wonderful. You've done so well at school, I'm sure you'd do well at this boarding school!" she added, moving towards the green eyed boy, his handsome face sporting a small, sad smile.

"I couldn't leave you and Mr. Marshwater. You need me here. My school now is fine, I don't need to go some boarding school on the other side of the country" he explained, his striking green eyes meeting hers.

She sighed, brushing his black locks from his forehead, revealing the lightning shaped scar, the only souvenir, besides a letter telling them his name and birthday, of his time before the orphanage.

"Harry, we'll get by. You're only ten, you have your whole life ahead of you, don't let us keep you from being your best" she whispered, just barely audible over the sounds of the energetic children.

"Please, it's already done. They've already told the reserve student" he answered softly, feeling like a normal ten year old boy for a moment, a normal child being chastised lightly by a parent. But the moment was fleeting, gone as soon as it had come.

"Harry, promise me the next time something like this happens, you'll take it. Promise me" she whispered back, looking back and forth between his compassionate green eyes, so caring in a place where attention was stretched so thin. They tried, but they couldn't be there for every child all the time.

"I can't. You need me…"

"Harry. Promise me" she whispered back forcefully, bending down before the boy, looking eye-level at him.

He heard the plea in her voice, desperate that he should promise her, even if he didn't want to.

"I promise" he answered softly. Mrs. Marshwater smiled softly, moving forward to give him a small hug. Though the gesture was fleeting, feeling loved and cared for by someone, it felt good. A feeling he received very little of.

He knew little of his own past, why he came to his orphanage, in this part of London, but all the older children knew Mrs. Marshwater's story.

She never had children, born sterile from some rare medical condition. Her husband knew before they were married, she tried to call it off, telling him he should find a woman that could give him a son, a child he could love.

He refused, starting this orphanage the next day. They were married right outside, right on the lawn. Their wedding picture, a black and white photo, showed them just below the newly created sign, the building in pristine condition.

The building was new then, funds plentiful. But her husband had been injured a few years later, causing them to cut his hours and his pay. He still worked as long as he could, but his back was ruined and few places hired the impaired. Still, she loved him with all her being, knowing this orphanage, a place full of children with no homes, no parents, was his gift to her, the gift of children when she thought she'd have none.

Yes, times were tough, but if she could do it all over again, she wouldn't change a thing.

The rest of the day moved fast, Harry helping a few children around the house, playing with the more energetic children until bedtime finally approached. Mr. Marshwater had come back as well, telling Harry a great story from work, his crooked back preventing him from exerting himself too much however.

Finally, bedtime did approach, Harry helping round up the children, the few older kids, only a sixteen and fourteen year old boy, helping a little as well.

"Where's Lizzie?" asked Harry, the sun was still hovering in the sky despite the late time, a testament to the long, English summer days. The winds had subsided somewhat as well, but a light summer chill had descended upon the city, giving most of the children no hesitation to snuggle under their covers.

"I haven't seen her Harry. I figured she was with the others upstairs" she called back, struggling to put a night shirt on a squirming three year old.

Having just checked all the rooms, Harry realized the energetic girl must be outside, hopefully not too far. Putting on his faded red jacket that hung by the back door, he walked out into the backyard, searching for the familiar young girl.

It didn't take long, spotting her sitting in a patch of green grass, idling pulling up a few blades to break into smaller pieces. Her fiery red hair, so distinct among the other children, also didn't help her hide well.

Walking over quietly, he sat by the silent girl, pulling up a few blades himself. He didn't know what was wrong, but Lizzie was never this quiet, normally the loudest, most outgoing of any of the children.

"I'm scared Harry" she spoke softly, a light breeze ruffling her waist-length red hair. She pulled her eyes up to his, meeting his comforting gaze.

"I know Lizzie" he answered. It dawned on him why she was so quiet, so reserved tonight.

She was getting adopted.

A young couple had stopped by a few weeks ago, eager to adopt a child of their own. The wife had the same problem as Mrs. Marshwater, unable to give birth herself. It didn't take them long to find Lizzie, the energetic red head running around outside. They fell in love with her instantly, just as everyone who encountered the lovable hazel eyed girl did.

"I don't want to go" she added, her bottom lip quivering, unshed tears clouded her pretty eyes. "What if I go and they don't want me anymore!"

Harry, well used to comforting the younger children, gently lifted the small girl onto his lap, the red head instantly burying her head in his chest.

"Of course they'll love you, forever and ever" he comforted the girl, the hazel eyed fire ball resting her head lightly on his chest still.

"But I don't want to go without you" she answered, pulling her head to reveal the lone tear falling down her young face. Her hazel eyes were wide, revealing how frightened she really was.

"I'll be fine here Lizzie, you should be happy. You're new Mommy and Daddy will be here tomorrow and they're going to take you to a real home, with everything you could ever dream of!" he continued, Mrs. Marshwater watching from the back porch, the porch light turned on now due to the setting sun.

"But what about you? Where are your new Mommy and Daddy?" she asked innocently, worried for the boy she considered her brother.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon" he lied. Truthfully, he had given hope of being adopted a long time ago, he held little hope of a couple ever coming to collect him now. His life was here at the orphanage, where he was needed.

Lizzie nodded into his chest, the child slowly drifting off to sleep. The late hour, plus all the excitement, had worn her out. Picking up the light red haired girl, he carried her back to the orphanage door, where Mrs. Marshwater waited, a sad smile on her face.

"I'm sure they will be here soon" she whispered as the mature young man walked past, too many responsibilities and duties for one so young. He didn't reply, his weak nod only to show he heard her, not to show he agreed.

He walked in the door, past the faded white paint of the orphanage, the only home he had ever known.

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Little plot bunny I had, want to know if I should continue it!

Review and let me know!