Title: Searching

Summary: Dudley Dursley dies at birth, leaving his mother deeply distraught. She's in and out of therapy to cope. When Harry Potter winds up on their doorstep, Vernon is left to take care of him. Dumbledore is left to deal with a Potter who will stop at nothing to find a way to help his uncle help his wife.

Pairings: TRHP, VDPD, DMNL, GWLL

Warnings: Ravenclaw!Harry, Nice!Vernon, Slash, Femslash, Manipulative!Dumbledore, Not-Completely-Evil!Tom Riddle, Mentally-Unstable!Petunia

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Two – A Visitor from Hogwarts

Nearly ten years have passed since Harry Potter was left on the Dursley's doorstep. He had been adopted shortly after, but Vernon decided to allow Harry to keep his family name to honor his parents' sacrifice.

Today, the little family was at Petunia's therapist's office. Vernon has his biannual meeting with the man to update him about Petunia's condition. From what Harry could hear through the slightly opened door, her bouts of clarity were getting longer and more significant. The doctor thought she would be better soon.

Harry leaned back in his chair and glanced at his aunt sitting next to him. She had a faraway look in her eyes like usual. He looked away, thinking about the past few years. Uncle Vernon was getting sadder each day, it seemed. He really wanted Aunt Petunia better, but he had no idea what he could do.

Harry wanted to help, too. He really did, but he was only turning eleven in a few weeks. There didn't seem to be anything he could do.

Well, there was always Hogwarts, but was there a way for him to fix people's minds with magic? Harry had no idea. He didn't want to hurt his aunt any more than she already was. She was getting a little better slowly. There were moments of clarity that Harry wouldn't risk giving up.

Harry remembered the first time she talked to him while she was clear.

He was six and Vernon had gone out for some groceries. Harry was straightening the sitting room so he could get dessert that night. He had a few chores, mostly cleaning up after himself, and if he did them all, he would get dessert.

Harry had just been finishing up when Aunt Petunia wandered into the room. She had looked directly at Harry, something she had never done before. "You," she had whispered. "You look familiar."

"My name's Harry, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, putting the last book away. His uncle had told him there will be times when Aunt Petunia would talk to him. There was always a chance that she wouldn't remember him during these times.

"I'm your aunt? You're Lily's boy?" she asked with a pained expression.

"My mum's name was Lily," Harry said quietly. "Are you okay? You look hurt."

"I'm fine Harry," she said quickly. "Where's Vernon?"

"At the store."

"Oh." The two stared at each other for a few moments. "Harry, have you met a man with a long white beard and a funny name?" Harry thought and shook his head. "When you do, Harry, promise me that you won't listen to him. He likes to lie a lot."

Harry frowned. "Why lie? Lying is bad!"

"I know, Harry. That's why you shouldn't listen to him. Promise me, okay?"

"I promise."

"Good," Petunia said. "Lily loved you, you know?"

"I know," Harry said quietly. "Uncle Vernon showed me the letters she sent you. I wish I could remember her."

Petunia smiled sadly. "I'm sure she would be proud of you. I'm sure she will always be proud of you, no matter what you do."

Then, Petunia got that faraway look again and left the room, mumbling about Dudley.

She had had a few moments like that with Harry since. Each time, she explained more and more about Lily and magic. She answered quite a few of his questions about his mother.

Harry pulled out the picture Uncle Vernon allowed him to keep. He was not supposed to take it out in public places, but the only ones here were him and his aunt, so he figured it was safe. The picture was moving. It showed his mum and a boy with shoulder-length black hair. They were both in robes. They looked to be chatting and laughing.

Harry really wondered who the boy was, but his uncle had no idea. Harry knew it couldn't be his dad. He had seen other pictures with his dad and this boy could not possibly have been him. "Who are you?" Harry whispered with a frown.

"His name is Severus Snape."

Harry started and jerked his head to the right. His aunt was looking at the picture. "What? You knew him?"

Aunt Petunia nodded slowly. "He lived up the street from us. He was the one to tell Lily what she was. They were best friends, however…" she trailed off and frowned. "She suddenly stopped inviting him over after her sixth year at that school. Something happened, but she never told me what. Instead, she started inviting your dad and his friends over. I disliked them more than I disliked Snape. They were very loud and sometimes obnoxious. Well, not all of them." Petunia shook her head. "What I don't understand is that she hated them for several years, but then suddenly had a change of heart."

Harry frowned and looked back at the picture. This boy was his mum's best friend. Harry had to find him. He was a connection to his mother, a connection that wouldn't only appear occasionally. Quickly, he turned to his aunt. "Aunt Petunia, do you know how to contact hi—" Her faraway look was back.

Harry looked away. He hoped Uncle Vernon would finish his meeting soon, so they could go back home. He had already read the few wizarding textbooks Aunt Petunia had in her attic. Apparently his mum had sent them to her in hopes that Aunt Petunia would want to join her one some outings in the magical world. They mostly explained culture and laws and other would-be boring things. Harry found them fascinating and a necessity. He didn't want to accidentally break any laws when he entered the Wizarding World because he didn't know there was a law.

He looked up sharply when the door opened all the way and quickly hid his picture.

"Thank you for coming today," the therapist said, shaking Vernon's hand. He turned to Petunia. "I'll see you tomorrow, Petunia." He glanced at Harry before going back into his office.

"Okay, let's get back home, Harry," Vernon said, helping Petunia stand. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Harry shrugged and then asked, "Why do we always have to come here so early? The sun has just come up."

Vernon chuckled. "I'm not sure, but I think the doctor is very busy and this is the only time he could schedule us in. We haven't complained so he hasn't changed it." Harry grumbled quietly. "We should check the post; maybe your letter will be there."

Harry's eyes lit up. He grinned. His eleventh birthday was soon, so he would get to go to Hogwarts! He just couldn't wait! He has to find the library as quick as he could once he gets there. He didn't want to make a fool of himself. "Oh, I hope it's there!" Harry said happily, nearly bouncing on his way to the car.

Harry jumped from the car, swiping the keys from his uncle. He bounded to the front door and unlocked and opened it. He slipped inside and picked up the letters on the mat. He quickly shifted through them. Moving out of the doorway, he rambled off, "Bill, postcard from Marge, and a letter for me!"

He bit his lip and tried to contain his excitement as he handed the other two items to his uncle. He stared at the green ink on the letter.

Mr. H Potter

4 Privet Drive

The Second Largest Bedroom

Little Whinging

Surrey

He paused at the specifics of his location before shaking his head and turning it over. There was a seal with a badger, a raven, a snake, and a lion: The Hogwarts Seal.

Feeling extremely giddy, Harry carefully removed the seal and opened the letter. He glanced up at his uncle and read the first page aloud, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

"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. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

"Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress," Harry finished with a slight frown.

"That doesn't tell us anything about the Wizarding World," Vernon said with a frown.

Harry looked to the other page. It was just a list of supplies. "How am I even supposed to get these things?" Harry looked up at Uncle Vernon in concern. "I don't want to show up unprepared."

Vernon pursed his lips. "How about you send a letter back? Asking for more information?"

Harry nodded and went to go find some paper. He set himself up at the dining table, thinking about how to word the letter. Eventually, he began writing.

Before putting the finished product in an envelope, Harry went and found Uncle Vernon to get his opinion. "Uncle Vernon," Harry said, upon finding the man in the lounge.

"Yes, Harry?" the man asked, partially distracted by the horrid bills.

"I finished the letter and wanted to know if it sounded okay," the boy murmured, handing the letter off to the older man.

Uncle Vernon set down the bill and took the letter.

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall or To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Harry Potter and I have just received my Hogwarts letter. I would be honored to attend your school, but I am saddened to say that I have no way of getting the supplies on the list. If it would be at all possible, could more information about how to get the supplies be sent? And, if it would not be a burden, could more information about the school itself be sent with it?

Harry Potter,

Student Looking Forward to Hogwarts

Vernon nodded and said, "Yeah; that looks okay. I hope they will still be able to get it even though we send it through the regular post."

"I hope so, too," Harry murmured, putting the letter in the envelope and sealing it. In place of a delivery address, he wrote 'Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' and sent it off.

Nothing extraordinary happened for the rest of that day. But the following day, things got interesting.

Professor McGonagall made her way up the familiar street. She hadn't been there for nearly ten years, but it still looked exactly the same. Nothing was out of place or strange. All the houses were perfectly aligned with their perfect gardens displaying their perfect flowers. It was quite unsettling for one who spends the majority of their time in the magical world.

She walked up to the house with the four next to its door and paused. She caught a nosy neighbor looking at her curiously and was thankful she knew how to dress appropriately in the muggle world, being the liaison with the muggleborns.

She knocked briskly on the door and waited for it to be answered. A young boy opened the door and stared at her. "Hello," he greeted politely.

"Mr. Potter, I presume?"

Harry blinked. "Yes," he replied slowly and glanced back into the house.

"Are your guardians home?"

"Uncle Vernon is here," he said, still not letting the woman into his house.

She nodded and said, "My name is Minerva McGonagall; I have come from Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't expected someone to come! He had thought they'd simply send a letter back. "Oh! Uh… come in! I'll just go get my uncle!" He ran off.

McGonagall closed the door behind her and waited in the entry hall. She looked around and found that pictures were scarce. The few that were there were of Harry. He appeared to be winning something in every one. Curious.

She looked over when a man who was a bit on the heavy side walked into the room, Mr. Potter trailing behind him. The man introduced himself as Mr. Vernon Dursley, Harry Potter's uncle. "You said you were from Hogwarts?" he asked curiously.

McGonagall nodded curtly. "I am here because Mr. Potter requested more information."

Vernon looked surprised. He hadn't expected a representative of the school to show up. "Well, please, take a seat. Would you like any tea?"

"A spot of Earl Grey would be lovely," she said a bit tightly. Harry hurried into the kitchen to fetch it for you. "Do you have any questions?" she asked Vernon once he sat down across from her.

"Oh yes, I have several, but I'm sure Harry has the same and I don't think it would be polite to have you repeat yourself."

McGonagall hummed and they waited for Harry to return in silence. He came back a several minutes later carrying a platter with the kettle, tea leaves, milk, sugar, cups, mixing spoons, and a couple tea bags just in case she preferred those. He set it down on the coffee table. "Um… how do you have your tea?" he asked sheepishly.

"I can fix it myself," she said kindly. James Potter never would've asked someone that. Perhaps he had a bit more of Lily in him. "Now, I'm sure you have questions," she stated plainly. "I think it best for you to ask them and I'll give you as much information as I can."

Harry nodded, nearly bouncing in his seat. "What do we learn at Hogwarts? I mean, from the supply list, I was able to figure out that there would be potions, magical history, magical theory, Transfiguration – whatever that is, and um… something to do with magical creatures. And I guess something with the stars? There was a telescope…"

McGonagall looked surprised and a bit put out. She cleared her throat. "That is a very good observation, Mr. Potter. Yes, the classes are Potions, History of Magic, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Charms, and Flying for First Years. There are a few subjects that can be chosen as you get older, but these are the classes you will be attending. Would you like me to expound on any of those?"

"What's Transfiguration? And Herbology? I can figure it has something to do with plants, but… The rest are all self-explanatory. Well, Flying, do you mean on brooms?"

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Vernon asked suddenly.

"Transfiguration is a branch of magic that focuses on changing the appearance of an object on a molecular level. The muggle equivalent of Herbology would be botany, do you know what that is, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. It had been mentioned in a book he had read at the library. He found out what it meant, but decided not to further study it. It didn't seem likely that some sort of plant could help his aunt. "And now to Flying," McGonagall frowned slightly. "Yes, it can be a bit dangerous, but that is why the students are being instructed. And yes, Mr. Potter, I do mean on broomsticks. There is a way to fly simply with the use of your magic, but the colleague of mine who has figured out how to do it refused to tell me. Anyway, there is a sport that is extremely popular at Hogwarts. It's called Quidditch, and is played on broom sticks."

She moved to continue, but Harry stopped her as politely as he could. "With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think I'll be spending my time at Hogwarts playing games.

McGonagall frowned again. "Your father was an excellent Quidditch player. There are many student anticipating your coming to Hogwarts. They hope you would play."

It was Harry's turn to frown. "But why? There is a chance that I'm not any good."

"But your father was a natural."

"So?"

McGonagall sighed and decided not to push the issue. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Where can I get the items on my supply list?"

"There is only one place in Wizarding Britain to get supplies and that's Diagon Alley."

"Diagon… Alley? Diagonally? What's with the silly name?" Vernon asked, somewhat bemused.

McGonagall simply shrugged while fighting down a smile. "I'm not quite sure. But, to get to Diagon Alley, there is a little pub on Charing Cross Road between a bookstore and a record shop called the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles can't see the Leaky Cauldron, so it is perfectly safe."

Harry looked to his uncle. "Do you know where that road is?"

"Yup."

McGonagall nodded. "Good. To get into the Alley, you go into the pub and ask the bartender Tom to let you in. He'll lead you out the back and tap a single brick with your wand. From the trashcan, it is 3 up and 2 across. You best remember that should you ever wish to reenter the alley on your own, Mr. Potter."

"Three up and two across form the trash, got it," Harry nodded.

"Anything else you'd like to know?"

"Is there a bookstore in Diagon Alley? And a library at Hogwarts?"

"Yes to both of those. Flourish and Blotts is the name of the bookstore," McGonagall replied.

Harry nodded, looking quite happy. He quickly assessed all his other questions, finding that the majority of them could be answered through books. There were a couple left though. "How do I get to Hogwarts?"

"By train. Oh, that reminds me," said McGonagall, reaching into a pocket. She pulled out a ticket. "This is your train ticket."

Harry frowned. "Where's platform 9 ¾?"

"Directly between Platforms 9 and 10 at Kings Cross Station. There is a wall separating the two. You must run straight at it, or walk if you prefer, but most students run."

"Can muggles get through?" Harry asked, glancing at his uncle.

"Yes," McGonagall said softly, realizing what Harry wanted.

"Good, I'd rather say my goodbye just before getting on the train."

"Anything else?" McGonagall asked quietly.

"Well, there is this one thing," Harry trailed off. He didn't know if he should ask this. I mean, what were the chances this woman knew the man who was his mother's best friend? What were the chances he was even still alive? They had gone through a war.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up at her sharply. No. He'd find the man himself. "I was just curiously how the war ended," he said quickly.

McGonagall took a sharp breath. "What do you know about that?"

Harry frowned. "All I know about the war was that my parents died protecting me."

McGonagall looked horrified. She looked to Uncle Vernon. "The letter form Dumbledore…"

"That was all it told us," Vernon said, leaving out the man's order.

"But…" McGonagall said, looking like she didn't know what to say. She eventually turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter. In the Wizarding World, you are famous."

"What? Whatever for?"

"The war was fought with, as usual, two sides. The Light Side led by Albus Dumbledore, and the Dark Side led by a man… a man everyone refers to as You-Know-Who."

"Well, what was his name then?"

McGonagall looked pained. "It was… Vol…" she paused and took a deep breath. "Voldemort."

"Flight of Death?" Harry deadpanned. "He doesn't sound too scary. If anything, it sounds like he's the one who's afraid." McGonagall stared at him. "What? Did I get the translation wrong?" he glanced up at his uncle. Harry had only just started looking through some English to French books. Since French was another well-known language, he had decided to learn it in case he came across a book written in the language that he might need.

"No, you didn't," McGonagall said with a small frown. "When you put it like that… he doesn't sound as terrifying. Anyway, he was a horrible wizard who killed hundreds of people, muggle and magical. On Hallowe'en of 1981, You-Know-Who went looking for the Potters. He found your house and killed your parents. But, for some reason, he couldn't kill you. Instead, we speculate, that his magic rebounded and hit him instead."

Harry blinked. "So… I'm famous in your world for getting rid of a Dark Lord?" Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. That would certainly be inconvenient. He shook his head. He needed to focus on something else. He looked to the end table and saw his supply list. "How much are these supplies going to cost me?" he asked warily.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. "That shouldn't be a problem."

"Why not? Did I get a scholarship or something?"

McGonagall spluttered. "Y-you're rich, Mr. Potter!"

"What? No, I'm not!"

"Yes, your parents left you a vast fortune."

"Well, this is the first time I've heard of it."

"But," she said in confusion. She looked to Uncle Vernon again. "Albus told me he'd give you Mr. Potter's Gringotts key."

Vernon blinked. "I never got any key."

"What?" she breathed in horror. She knew the goblins gave him the key. If he didn't give it to the Dursleys… She didn't want to think about it! "Well, what about your wife?" she asked, suddenly remembering the woman.

Vernon and Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Petunia isn't… in any condition… to be looking through mail," Vernon said after a few seconds of silence.

McGonagall wanted to know more, but she knew better than to pry. But that could only mean Albus still had the key. He wouldn't be using it, right? She sighed and looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter, when you go to Diagon Alley, the bank, Gingotts, is there. It is a big white marble building. Go up to one of the goblins and ask them to perform a blood test. Then, once it is confirmed that you are indeed, Mr. Potter, ask them to revoke all keys handed out after October 30, 1981."

"Okay, I will," Harry said. "But can I ask why?"

McGonagall sighed. "I fear someone might be stealing your money. It is simply a precaution."

"Well, what about the keys handed out before then?"

"I'd hope they were sent to the right place."

"Can the goblins check that?"

McGonagall blinked. "I'm sure they could."

"Okay, I'll tell them to do that too."

McGonagall nodded. She then looked at her watch. "I must be off, Mr. Potter. There are a few other children and their families I must see today."

"Oh, well it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you at Hogwarts."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." And she was gone.

Harry turned to his uncle. "Who do you think was stealing from me?"

Vernon sighed. "I think it might be Dumbledore."

"The Headmaster?" Harry gasped. "But why?"

Vernon frowned. "I don't know, Harry. He left you here with the order to beat you." Vernon looked at Harry's wide eyes. "Obviously, we didn't listen. I think… I think he doesn't have your best interests in mind, Harry. Avoid him as much as you can."

Harry nodded vehemently. He then paused. "What does he look like?"

"He has a long white beard, and is very old, but that's all I know."

"Aunt Petunia told me not to listen to a man with a long white beard and a funny name. She said he lies a lot."

Vernon nodded. "She is right."

-MosukeHinata