AN: Well this is my new project. Things deviate from the norm a bit pretty soon after this first chapter. I'm going to be trying to update once every one or two weeks, on whatever day this ends up being posted.

Not much more to say this time... Read and enjoy~

.oOo.

A small boy about six years old, with mop-like black hair covering a lightning bolt scar, slept peacefully in a cupboard. Unfortunately his peaceful sleep would shortly be interrupted.

"Wake up!" A woman's voice insisted. "It's nearly six, and Dudley will be up for school in an hour. If our breakfast isn't ready by then, you won't be eating lunch today."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The boy replied blearily.

Aunt Petunia muttered angrily to herself, and only stalked off when the boy's door began to open. The boy's name was Harry Potter, and at the moment his only thoughts were on breakfast.

An hour went by without much trouble, Harry enjoyed cooking immensely despite being forced to do it by his family, and shortly the big, happy group was seated around the round Dursley table.

Harry stared morosely into his quarter filled glass of orange juice, and picked at his single sausage and half slice of toast. The other Dursleys were busy digging into their much more reasonable servings. As soon as Uncle Vernon, Harry's uncle and a man of nearly unreasonable size, had finished his portion he began his favorite morning activity of loudly complaining about various things.

"Everything is so EXPENSIVE nowadays," he blustered, most probably just for the fun of blustering, "That grocery store charges a POUND for a carton of orange juice! A POUND!"

He continued in that vein for nearly five minutes, while Aunt Petunia simply nodded politely every few minutes. Dudley, Harry's cousin, did not even look up from his second plate. As Vernon was moving on to his next topic, cogs were turning in his normal sized, but poorly connected brain. While he ranted he was slowly moving along a particular train of thought. Slowly, but granted, it was immensely surprising he could talk and think at the same time, for he wasn't all that bright. 'If we had more money, it would matter less how much they charge for orange juice... If more people in the house were working then we WOULD have more money...' he thought.

On and on Vernon went in that vein before reaching his eureka moment. He ceased his diatribe at an unusual place, somewhere halfway between a rant on wait staff and bank personnel. "Boy, I'll be picking you up after school today," he said imperiously and refused to explain further when his wife subtly heckled him.

"After school today? What's happening today?" she asked.

Vernon tried to give her a meaningful look, but it mostly appeared like he was simply thinking very hard. Petunia seemed to be put off by this, and things slowed down from there.

Dudley and Harry shortly left for school, but not before Dudley delivered a solid thwack to the back of Harry's head. Harry glared at his smirking face as they continued.

.oOo.

That particular day in Harry's fourth year in primary school, for he was actually nine years old and not the six he looked, was rather boring. It went quick though, and before he knew it he was waiting outside the school. Vernon got off work around five, and wouldn't be there until at least a quarter after, but Harry was used to these kinds of snubs. Fortunately for Harry all you needed to check out books from the school library, small though it was, was to be enrolled at the school and be in the good graces of your teacher. Harry was a well behaved child, and therefore had a book to read while he waited for his uncle.

Nearly two hours past before he actually arrived but Harry didn't mind much. He'd recently taken an interest in fantasy novels. Anything involving some kind of magic or adventure. He had been drawn to them, feeling for some reason like they were possible. He was a smart boy though, he knew on an intellectual level that such stories were impossible. They were a good diversion though. Vernon, however, hated them for whatever reason. So, when Harry saw his car turning the corner he slipped it into his relatively nice bag.

Dudley had only used it for a day before it had been passed on to Harry. One of his friends had told him it was 'uncool' and he refused to keep using it. Harry had received it, and was quite happy with it.

Finally, Vernon pulled to a stop, and ushered Harry into the car. "What are we doing today, Uncle?" Harry asked, straining to keep such a polite and formal tone.

"I'm taking you to get a job, deadbeat. We've clothed and fed you for too long, it's time you began earning your keep somehow," he replied.

Harry's heart sunk, 'Hopefully,' he thought, 'it won't be anywhere too horrible... Uncle Vernon wouldn't find me out of place at a chemical manufacturing facility...'

"Craig, one of my poker buddies, is the new manager at one of those fancy themed bookstore chains that have been opening up lately," Vernon said, "He told me he could get you a job doing menial things for minimum wage. He's doing us a favor, so be thankful, he says he'll say you're his son if anyone asks any funny questions."

Harry nodded, placated. A job at a bookstore, even doing menial things, was much more than he would have hoped for. He was lucky Vernon didn't have any connections with the guy who was apparently hiring hands for his alligator breeding business, according to the sign posted on a building they had just passed.

They reached the store so quickly, Harry only counted two blocks that had passed, that he wondered why they hadn't walked. It was a narrow brick building, with signs for various book deals posted all over the glass windows. The bricks were painted a deep purple, most probably to match the edging on the large, black letters that spelled out Medievale Bookestoreright above the door. Harry was relatively sure, even at the tender age of nine, that adding E's to words in random places did not make the words archaic.

He did not have long to deliberate on it, however, because Vernon quickly dragged him into the store muttering to himself, "Thinks he can stare at a sign all day..."

The inside was much nicer than the outside. From the outside everything seemed tacky, from the faux-archaic name to the bright signs screaming deals like, '20% off Atlases Feb. 2-25'. On the inside everything was much more to the store's theme. There were bookshelves lining the walls, and rows of shelves throughout the middle of the room. Each one had detailed reliefs carved into the bottom and top. That along with a dark staining and a bit of actual age made the shelves appear older than they were.

From a customers perspective it seemed to be one large room, much longer than it was wide, but Harry could see some doors at the other end that probably backed up to offices, bathrooms or storage etc. The doors were all made of wood, stained the same dark brown as the shelves, and cut into planks that were bolted together in the medieval fashion. Instead of handles, each door had a round iron ring mounted on a piece of metal that was bolted to the door.

Everything seemed to be in its own element, except for the exceedingly average looking man in front of him. He was of average height, average build, had light brown hair cut close to his head, and seemed quite uncomfortable in the store. Overall he seemed like the kind of person that most overlook. Unfortunately, as Harry soon found out, his personality and voice set him apart from others. "Vernon!" he greeted his friend. The greeting would be warm, except his voice was so gravelly and unfriendly-seeming that it ruined the attempt.

"Hey, Craig," Vernon offered, "I brought along the boy," His voice was hopeful. Clearly Vernon wanted Harry off his hands as much as possible.

"I can see that," he returned gruffly, "I just need a hand with easy chores, shelving and such, too much trouble to hire an extra employee. I'll just tell Tom, works here part-time, that he's my son." Craig approached the cash register and leaned against the counter it was mounted on. "I'll pay minimum wage, like we talked about, deal?"

Harry was a little disturbed that people other than Vernon considered a nine year old working a part-time job to be appropriate, but he just sat silently as they talked over his head. Craig had been looking him up and down, as if judging whether he'd REALLY be good enough to hire. Vernon was all unctuous sycophant, clearly hoping that Craig would hire Harry in accord with his words.

Harry was tuning out the subsequent negotiations, having figured from the point where Craig said what he'd pay that he was planning on hiring him. Vernon still seemed worried that Craig would suddenly change his mind. Harry had no idea why, so instead he busied himself reading the titles off books on the shelves.

In that manner Harry passed the time for nearly five minutes. Vernon and Craig had quickly devolved into talking about trivial things, Harry's job being firmly cemented. He was to work in the shop for four hours each school night, and for eight hours on Saturday. Both men were 'good Christian people', despite Vernon only attending church for Christmas mass, and therefore Harry got Sundays off. He was to start right after school the following day.

Quite suddenly, Craig looked down at his watch, "Sorry Vern," he said suddenly, "I have to send you out now, it's just about our busiest time. I had less time for this little meeting than I thought," he flashed an oily smile and practically pushed them out the door.

.oOo.

The car ride home was short and silent. Harry was lost in thought about mundane things, and Vernon was busy internally celebrating his minor victory. 'Our cash flow will be just a bit better, and that runt will be out of the house twenty seven hours more than he is now. Petunia might have to pick up some of the slack with the housework, but at least we'll be monetarily compensated for this.' he thought happily.

The car pulled into the driveway, and Harry slid out and hopped along the stone walkway to the door. While Vernon glared at him for looking cheerful, Harry was basking in his own internal happiness. 'Every hour I'm not here is an hour well spent.' he thought to himself.

The evening was only barely worth mentioning. Harry cooked dinner for his family, and a tiny portion for himself, and then went to bed. Crawling under the covers he found his good mood ruined, he couldn't help but feel like something really bad was going to come out of this new job...