Chapter Text
Chapter One: The true character of a society
October 1988
The chiming of the school bell ringing broke whatever control Ms Harper had managed to establish over her unruly classroom of Year Four students, who quickly scrambled to charge for the door to enjoy their lunchtime on a rare sunny day in Surrey.
“Wait one moment I did not dismiss you all yet!” the young teacher called out exasperatedly, her words falling deaf on the backs of the children. Running a hand through her curly black hair she resigned herself to collecting the writing tasks off the desks of her students, wondering not for the first time why she had put herself through becoming a teacher. Let alone a primary school teacher.
Distracted by her own thoughts she nearly had a heart attack when she reached for a writing task only to have a small hand offer it to her instead.
“Oh my-!” she gasped, cutting herself off from saying anything unsavoury in front of a child. “Mr Potter! What are you still doing here?”
The little boy, the smallest in her class, was sitting silently at his desk, having remained behind while the other children had left for lunch. The oversized t-shirt he was wearing was nearly slipping off one of his bony shoulders as he offered his writing task to her.
Ms Harper was not one to judge a family by their financial situation, but the state of the boy’s clothes was really quite concerning. She would not be so fixated on it had the boy’s cousin, Dudley Dursley, not always been so well dressed. It was quietly known among the staff at the school that Mr Potter’s aunt and uncle had custody of him, but the exact circumstances of this arrangement were unknown.
Ms Harper had not actually met Mr and Mrs Dursley yet, as they had declined to attend Harry’s orientation evening at the start of the school year last month. But she was certainly confused why their son Dudley was properly dressed and their nephew seemed to come to school in clothing reminiscent of rags. His round spectacles were even taped together, and looked ill-fitting for his head.
Her colleague, Mr Simmons, taught the Dursley boy in his class and often complained to the rest of the faculty in the staff room during breaks that the boy was an absolute terror, prone to bullying other children on the playground. There had been a few interventions, but apparently Mr and Mrs Dursley - who had deigned to meet Mr Simmons - were insistent their son was innocent and it was the cruel lies of other children who were jealous of his popularity.
If Dudley Dursley was a terror, then Harry Potter was an absolute delight to have in her classroom. He was always polite, completed his work at an excellent standard, and listened to her instructions.
The only concern Ms Harper had was that the poor child seemed to have no friends.
“Here you go Ms Harper,” the boy said quietly, absent-mindedly adjusting his ridiculously oversized t-shirt as it still threatened to slip off his shoulder.
It was at that moment Ms Harper noticed something peeking out from underneath the gaping collar of the boy’s shirt. Her heart just about stopped.
Whilst it is a well-known fact that children can be quite active and can pick up bruises for all sorts of reasons, seeing a rather nasty looking bruise that looked like it wrapped around a child’s shoulder was cause for concern.
Ms Harper had only had Harry Potter in her class for a month or so now, but seeing that bruise suddenly forced a few things into sharp realisation for the young teacher. His thin frame, the ill-fitting clothes, the isolation from the other children, his unerring obedience to authority that bordered on strange for a child of his age.
It was just a hunch, she didn’t have any concrete proof, but at that moment Ms Harper knew with absolute certainty that this was a child who needed her help. Taking a calming breath, Ms Harper made sure to smile gently at the boy, crouching down to his height and taking the offered paper off him.
“Thank you Harry,” she said quietly. When the boy remained at his seat, fiddling a little nervously with his hands, the teacher put the papers down and took a seat beside Harry, the low furniture made for children making her look a bit silly as she perched on the seat.
She was rewarded for the action with Harry letting out an involuntary giggle as she balanced herself a little precariously, but just as she was grinning back at him his face suddenly froze and he tensed as though he thought he would be in trouble for laughing.
No, Ms Harper realised suddenly seeing how the eight year old hunched in on himself and leaned away slightly, as though he thought he was about to be hit.
Ms Harper was ready to go to war.
“Harry, would you mind me asking you some questions?”
Louisa Abbott, senior manager at the Child Protection Authority of the Ministry of Magic, was preparing to Floo home for the day when an alarm went off in her office. Standing in complete shock for a moment, the witch recovered after a moment and scrambled to drop her briefcase and move over to the alarm trilling away.
Against the back wall of her office was a detailed map of Britain, and currently, there was a red glow emitting from the county of Surrey.
For all the eight years Louisa had been working at the CPA, she had never once seen this particular type of alarm actually go off.
The Trace on every underage witch and wizard had the dual purpose of not only detecting any underage magic being performed, but also alerted the CPA if any magical child had come into contact with Muggle authorities for any reason.
Louisa had dealt with cases in the past of underage wizards and witches coming into trouble with Muggle police after magical pranks had gone wrong, but those alerts glowed amber on the map. She had never seen a red light, had honestly hoped she would never see it.
A magical child had just been brought to a Muggle child protection agency.
Waving her wand over the red light, Louisa waited tensely as the enchantment on the map activated. The red light intensified briefly, causing Louisa to look away to protect her eyes, before it dimmed, and a long sheet of parchment unfurled itself from the map.
Louisa deftly caught the long piece of parchment, frowning slightly at the quantity that had just been produced. Turning her eyes to the top of the parchment Louisa searched for the name of the child who had just presented at a child protection agency.
Harry James Potter.
Louisa had an urgent call to make to the head of her section.
Harry was feeling overwhelmed to say the least.
Earlier that day, his teacher had started asking some weird questions about the Dursleys and what it was like living with them. He didn’t understand why Ms Harper’s face got all pinched like Aunt Petunia’s sometimes did when he told her about the cupboard under the stairs.
Next he was being taken to the principal’s office, and he had been filled with dread thinking he was going to be expelled. Ms Harper had tried to assure him he had done nothing wrong and he wasn’t in trouble, but Harry knew as soon as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon caught wind of this they would have him locked in the cupboard without dinner and maybe without breakfast too.
Ms Harper had spoken privately with the principal for a bit while the school receptionist had smiled at Harry and offered him a wrapped candy. He had been too nervous to accept.
Then Ms Harper was bringing Harry into the principal’s office, who had asked Harry more questions about the Dursleys. Harry had answered reluctantly, not wanting to lie to the principal, but as the man’s face had increasingly grown tense Harry had fallen silent. The resemblance to Uncle Vernon frightened him.
Ms Harper had asked gently about the bruise on his shoulder, and how he had gotten it. Harry noticed the principal had been carefully taking notes the whole time, which made him feel awkward and embarrassed.
But with Ms Harper giving him a reassuring smile, Harry had quietly told them that it was from Uncle Vernon.
It all happened quickly after that – the principal was on the phone with lots of people, and Ms Harper was telling him how brave he was and how proud she was of him.
Then a lady in a business suit was walking into the office and introducing herself as Claire Peters. She said she was a person called a social worker, and she wanted to bring Harry to her office to answer some more questions.
Harry had always been told not to go alone with strangers, but Ms Harper and the principal told Harry it was okay to go with Claire.
Before he left with Claire, Ms Harper crouched down to Harry’s eye level and had told him it was going to be okay.
Claire had taken Harry by car to her office, and he was put in a room that had loads of toys and a super comfy couch that Harry had nervously sat down on. Claire made him a cup of hot chocolate and sat with him.
She asked him about his hobbies, and Harry was embarrassed to admit he did not to have any. Claire shared with him some funny stories about when she was his age, and then offered to make him another hot chocolate when she noticed he was finished with his first.
Claire had left the room briefly to go talk to some people, and then entered the room again with a man in casual clothes. He introduced himself to Harry as a police officer, but assured him he was not in any trouble.
He said he was a special officer who looked after children who had been treated badly by adults, and that he needed to ask Harry some more questions. Claire stayed in the room while they talked.
Harry had asked them if they had spoken to his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon yet, and the officer and Claire had given each other a long look. The officer told Harry that his aunt and uncle were being interviewed at the police station by the people he worked with.
Harry had been horrified that what he had said had led to his aunt and uncle being in trouble with the police, already dreading the punishment that would be in store after this.
When Claire had seen his face she had gently explained to Harry that he would not be going home with his aunt and uncle that night, and might not be for a while.
Harry hadn’t been able to hide his sheer relief.
The police officer in casual clothes left after taking a photo of Harry's shoulder bruise. Claire asked Harry what he would like to eat, saying she could make him a sandwich. Harry had been starving, having missed lunch, but too scared to voice his hunger. He was used to that resulting in a sharp word from Aunt Petunia about being ungrateful.
Claire left to make him up a sandwich, and Harry sat in silence on the couch. Although Claire had said he wouldn’t be going home that night with his aunt and uncle, that left the question of where he was going.
Throughout all of this, Harry felt the urge to cry but he didn’t know what he wanted to cry about. He felt empty after talking for so long to all the adults.
At the sound of the door opening Harry looked up, expecting to see Claire coming back in with food, but instead he saw an unfamiliar woman entering. She had light brown hair pinned up in a pretty knot at the back of her head and kind brown eyes. The man following her was wearing a very fancy looking suit and had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. When he looked at Harry though, those eyes seemed to soften.
Uncertain, Harry chose to remain silent.
The man spoke first, seeming to be in charge.
“Hello Mr Potter, my name is Gareth Greengrass. This is Louisa Abbott, we work together.”
Ms Abbott smiled at Harry, giving him a small wave.
“Hello,” Harry replied quietly, unsure what else to say but wanting to be polite.
“Is it okay for us to come in, Harry?” Ms Abbott asked.
“Of course,” Harry replied and the two entered the room properly, shutting the door behind them. For a moment Harry thought he saw Ms Abbott pull something out of her sleeve, but as he leaned forward Mr Greengrass blocked his view. Ms Abbott quickly followed and took a seat where Claire had been previously sitting beside Harry on the couch, while Mr Greengrass remained standing, hands clasped loosely behind him.
“Before we begin, Mr Potter what have your relatives told you about your parents?” Mr Greengrass asked carefully.
“They told me dad got drunk and killed he and my mum in a car crash,” Harry intoned dully, as though the story had been hurled at him many times.
Ms Abbott breathed in sharply in shock, gaze cutting across to Mr Greengrass, who looked furious for a moment before his expression gentled once more. Although Harry usually felt uncomfortable around people who were angry, he felt strangely safe with these people.
“What else did they tell you about your parents?”
Harry thought hard for a moment, trying to think up any other scrap of information his relatives had ever told him about his parents.
“My mum’s name was Lily and she was my Aunt Petunia’s sister. I don’t know what my dad’s name was.”
“I see,” Mr Greengrass stated calmly, but there was a glint of fury still in his eyes. “Ms Abbott, it seems we do indeed require the Muggleborn Introductory Package, so you were right to bring it along.”
“Yes sir,” Ms Abbott murmured, and Harry was surprised to see the woman seemed to be quite shaken.
His surprise turned to outright shock as the woman reached into her handbag, and sunk down to her elbow, pulling out a miniature wooden trunk. She laid it on the coffee table before the couch, face turning to Mr Greengrass as though waiting for a cue.
“Mr Potter,” Mr Greengrass said, capturing Harry’s attention from where he had been staring in shock at where Ms Abbott had somehow pulled a small trunk out of a tiny handbag.
“You are a wizard.”
Ms Abbott pulled a thin stick out from under her sleeve and tapped the miniature trunk on the coffee table, which immediately expanded before Harry’s awed eyes into a proper trunk, covering the whole coffee table.
She waved her stick across the front of the trunk and it opened on its own, revealing a case packed with books, strange writing supplies, including what looked like an old-fashioned quill, and all manner of assorted lollies and snacks.
Harry felt quite sure this was all some kind of horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? He’d spent his life being bullied by Dudley and abused by his aunt and uncle; if he was really a wizard then why hadn’t they been turned into toads every time they tried to lock him in the cupboard, denied him food or pushed him around?
“Mr Greengrass,” Harry said quietly, “I think you’ve made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”
The man looked at Harry carefully, and said softly, “Have you ever made things happen when you were scared or angry, Mr Potter?”
Harry thought about it for a moment, recalling times when Dudley had been playing a game he liked to call “Harry Hunting” and Harry had always somehow managed to slip away unnoticed by his cousin and his goons. He also remembered the most recent unusual incident.
“Aunt Petunia cut my hair the summer before school started. It was awful…I remembered going to sleep dreading what everyone would think about it. But when I woke up the next morning it had grown back the way it had been before.”
“Your hair grew when you wished it so?” Mr Greengrass mused interestedly. Suddenly feeling the urge to impress the man further, Harry added, “I’ve done other stuff too. Once when my cousin was chasing me I wished I could be far out of his reach and I was suddenly on the school roof.”
“Accidental Apparition” Ms Abbott murmured, looking impressed.
“Magic, Harry,” Mr Greengrass impressed on him. “You are a wizard.” He then gestured to Ms Abbott and explained, “Ms Abbott here is a witch, and I am a wizard. Your mother, Lily, and your father, James Potter, were part of our world too.”
James. Harry savoured the name he had just learned.
“You mother, Lily, was what we call Muggleborn – she was a witch born to two Muggles – non-magical folk. Your aunt, her husband and your cousin are all Muggles too.”
“Why was I never told any of this?” Harry asked, suddenly starting to feel a little bit angry.
“It should have never been kept from you,” Mr Greengrass insisted, Harry’s anger reflected in his own eyes. “Truly, you should have been raised in the wizarding world. You should never have been left with those Muggles, regardless of you being related to them.”
“Sir,” Ms Abbott said quietly, a note of warning in her voice.
“Yes, Ms Abbott, I am aware that might be seen as a controversial opinion, and this is all being recorded, but I stand by my opinion. You see where the decision to leave Mr Potter with his Muggle relatives has led to,” Mr Greengrass declared widening his arms to encompass the room they were in.
Ms Abbott sighed, but seemed to accept what Mr Greengrass was saying.
“Mr Potter, because you are a wizarding child you now fall under our protection. I am the senior manager of the Child Protection Authority – or the CPA. Mr Greengrass is the head of the section,” Ms Abbott explained patiently. “Under our laws – wizarding laws – your Muggle relatives are no longer fit to take care of you. Until we identify your closest relatives in the wizarding world, you will be a ward of the Ministry of Magic – that is the government of our world.”
“As the head of the CPA I have the power under our laws to assign any ward of the Ministry to a temporary foster family until their next of kin are located,” Mr Greengrass added. “I intend to take you in myself, Mr Potter, until we have found blood relatives to take custody of you.”
“I – I have family? Other family than the Dursleys?” Harry questioned, shocked.
“Your father, James Potter, was an only child. As was his father, your grandfather, Charlus Potter. However, your grandmother, Dorea Potter née Black, certainly had siblings. You do indeed have family, although distant, in the wizarding world,” Mr Greengrass explained. “Mr Potter, would you find it suitable to be placed temporarily with my own family until we have identified your closest living relatives?”
Harry looked up at the man who had flipped his whole world on its head in the span of a few minutes.
“Anything to get me away from the Dursleys,” Harry breathed.
A dangerous look flitted across Mr Greengrass’s face and he promised, “If I have it my way, you will never see those Muggles ever again.” Rather than scare Harry, it reassured him.
“Please take me with you.”
That evening in Privet Drive a flustered Mrs Arabella Figg watched the dramatic scene unfolding on the front lawn of Number 4. A wailing Petunia Dursley was held back by a red in the face Vernon Dursley as their son was bundled into the back of a car with a stern faced woman in a business suit.
Seeming for once uncaring of what the neighbours must be thinking, Petunia was crying out so loudly that Mrs Figg could hear it from inside her house, “No you can’t take my Diddy-Kins away! Vernon, do something! Stop them!”
Throughout all this commotion there was no sign of one Harry Potter.
Mrs Figg rushed to her telephone - being a Squib, she was unable to use magic to get in contact with the person she had in mind.
Albus Dumbledore needed to know immediately that something was terribly amiss in the Dursley household.