Author's notes - Hello. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fanfic. It's an idea I've had floating around in my head for awhile so I thought I'd give it a go. I hope you enjoy it. I find the whole rating thing a bit confusing so the rating may change later on. I do repeat JKR a bit in the first part so just bare with me!

Disclaimer - I am not JKR.

Anthony Jones heard a knock on his office door. His department at the ministry had become increasingly busy over the last year or so. Muggles would have called him a Social Worker and his area Children's Services. Wizards called him an Advocate for Minors at the Department of Post-War Restoration. What he actually did was most of the time was find new homes for children who had been orphaned, either by the death of their parents, or by lengthy prison terms in Azkaban for them, due to the war. New orphanages had to be built. New staff needed to be trained. Distant relatives had to be found. It would have been sad if his heart hadn't been so hardened from having the same job after the First War.

"Come in," he called to the door before getting up and heading over to his filing cabinet to find some papers on a case he was working on.

He looked up and groaned as Timothy Albright shuffled in with several piles of parchments that were ready to fall out of his arms at any second. Jones had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could never understand why the ministry kept giving him Squibs to work in his department. Sure, they were all nice people; conscientious most of the time. But they had to do everything the Muggle way and that took time.

"What can I do for you, Albright?" Jones winced as Albright dumped the files unceremoniously on to his desk. "What case are you working on?" Jones tried again, hoping to sound more patient this time.

"Case 394, sir. Ted Remus Lupin," Albright answered.

"And how is that going?"

"I think I've found a suitable solution for the time being but I want to go over it with you first before I do any official paperwork."

"Why don't you tell me what you know and we'll see where we get?"

"Alright." Albright straightened up in his chair and reached for the files he'd just dumped on Jones's desk.

"Born in April 1998 to Nymphadora Lupin and Remus Lupin. Both died during the Battle of Hogwarts. He was then brought up by his grandmother Andromeda Tonks (nee Black) until her death just last week. Her will names Harry Potter as the child's godfather but you'd have to have been living under a rock for the last year to know that he hasn't arrived to claim the child."

Jones knew alright. He went over the Daily Prophet headlines in his mind – Harry Potter Abandons Seventh Year At Hogwarts!The Chosen One Missing! Was The Boy Who Lived Kidnapped? – and after awhile - Auror Department Deems Harry Potter Disappearance Not Suspicious, Abandons Search. He was of age, after all. He could leave if he wanted to. Jones hadn't blamed the poor kid. Who'd want to return to Hogwarts after all that he'd been through there?

"I see," Jones pondered. "Was Andromeda married?"

"Yes, sir. He was caught and killed during the war."

"Okay, does the child have any aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"Both parents were only children. As far as I could find there isn't any family left on the father's side. As for the mother's..." he looked through his papers, "Ted Tonks was a Muggle-born so that rules that out."

"Why is that?" Jones enquired. The ministry was not adverse to placing orphaned children from wizarding families with their Muggle relatives if it was necessary.

"The child is a metamorphagus. I really don't think it would be appropriate to place him with a Muggle family," Albright replied. Jones observed that the younger man, although a bit clumsy, seemed to be quite confident when he was talking about cases. Maybe it wasn't so bad having this particular Squib working for him.

"Very well. What about the grandmother's family?"

"She had two sisters to whom she was estranged after her marriage..."

Jones sighed. Many cases he'd come across in his time involved this sort of thing. Family feuds over ridiculous things like money and blood status. He managed to get them to come round most of the time. It was important to the ministry to try and keep children with their blood relatives as much as possible.

"Go on," Jones prompted.

"Bellatrix Lestrange died during the Battle of Hogwarts. She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange, he's is Azkaban. They'd had no children. Narcissa Malfoy she is alive, one could say. She was attacked by vigilantes after her husband's trial. He's serving a life sentence in Azkaban. She's been in St Mungo's since then. She does have a son though – Draco. He was enrolled to repeat his seventh year at Hogwarts, like most of the students from that year, but he never turned up and he hasn't been seen since."

Curious, Jones thought as he removed his glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. He ran his hands through his hair.

"So where does that leave us? I thought you said you had a solution."

"Someone has come forward. Molly Weasley. She would be willing to care for the child for as long as necessary. She's not a young woman but she has raised seven children of her own and she's said to have been close to Mrs Tonks. She knows the little boy well."

"Okay. We'll get in touch with her and send someone over to do the necessary checks and paperwork. In the meantime the boy will need to stay in the orphanage."

"Very well," Albright nodded as he gathered up his files and made to let himself out of the office.

"I'll get my secretary to write something up for the Prophet to put in tomorrow's paper. Maybe this is just the thing that will bring Harry Potter back from wherever he is. Or maybe even the Malfoy kid."

1st September 1998

Chris Allen really didn't need to be nervous, did he? Sure, he was nineteen years old and it was his first day on the job as a security guard at King's Cross Station and his partner, Rodger Harding, was pacing up and down their office mumbling to himself and wringing his hands. But surely the folks in authority wouldn't have paired him with someone who couldn't handle a new kid, right? He took a deep breath and swallowed.

"I-is everything alright, Rodger?" he asked nervously. He didn't want to offend the old codger on his first day.

"What? Huh?" Harding looked up as though the kid hadn't been standing there the whole time.

Harding pointed a fat, shaking finger at the young man before him.

"Strange things. Strange, strange things. Every year. No-one believes me. They all think I'm nuts!"

Allen was beginning to see why.

"Why is that?" he asked hesitantly.

Harding flopped down in the chair.

"I asked them not to roster me on on this day any more. " He stared straight at Allen. "They don't seem to notice it."

"Notice what exactly?" Allen was trying to keep his composure. He'd certainly be talking to his supervisor tomorrow about getting a transfer.

"Children. Lots of children. With trolleys. And owls. And all sorts of animals! And they're there one second and then they're gone."

"I see." Allen shifted nervously. What a bloody nutter, he thought.

They were both startled by a knock at the door. Allen opened it and a middle aged woman stood before him.

"Sorry to be a bother," she began.

"No problem," Allen smiled.

"It's just that I saw something a bit suspicious and I thought I'd better report to someone, you know, just in case?"

Before Allen knew it Harding was out of his chair and in the woman's face, shaking her.

"What? What is it?" he shouted.

"It's a trolley. I'm sorry, I-" the woman began, but Harding was already gone.

Allen smiled at the lady apologetically before running after Harding.

"It's over at platform nine!" she shouted after him. "I didn't get to tell you that," she said to herself before making her way out of the station.

When Allen finally caught up with Harding over on platform nine he found the older man circling an abandoned trolley, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Why don't we just move it?" he asked, reaching out for the handles of the trolley.

"DON'T !" Harding shouted, slapping Allen's hand away. "It could be a bomb!"

Allen frowned at the trolley. It looked innocent enough.

"A bomb?" a nearby commuter cried.

"Did you say there was a bomb?" gasped another.

Oh crap, thought Allen. How was he going to handle this one? It was obvious his partner was falling apart right before him. Passengers who heard their conversation were already running for the exits. Maybe he should call his supervisor? The police? The bomb squad? Scotland Yard? The bloody Prime Minister? Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth herself?

No, he told himself. It's just a trolley. Nothing to worry about.

"Why is there a trunk in the trolley, Allen? A trunk? Why would somebody keep a trunk in a trolley and just leave it in the middle of a train station?" Harding was gesturing wildly towards the trolley now.

Allen looked at the trolley. The trunk itself didn't look that unusual. His parents kept a similar looking trunk at the end of their bed. But Harding had a point.

"So what do we do then?"

Harding grabbed for the radio at his belt and spoke in to it.

"May day! May day! We have a situation here! We need reinforcements now!"

Allen stared at the mayhem surrounding him. People were tripping over each other to get to an exit. How the hell had things escalated so rapidly? Then he saw someone in the crowd coming towards them. Allen felt his body stiffen. The bloke was dressed in a business suit, he didn't seem dodgy to him.

"I thought you should know," he panted. "There's another trolley just like it over there," the man gestured to the other end of the platform before running back in to the chaos.

Oh god, this just isn't my day. All this over two bloody trolleys.