Disclaimer:

*I don't own a damn thing.*

Thanks for checking out my story! I hope to get into a groove of posting consistently, however I am likely going to be sporadic. Like my posting-habits, my writing may bring the story to some strange places, but I will try to bring us back to something like a plot.

Please enjoy, and I appreciate all feedback!

AvatarBuddha

Chapter One: Fountain Pens and Promises

BOOM!

The front door to the small shack dropped down and thudded on the sandy, wooden floor. A man twice as wide as average ducked under the doorframe to enter. He had a bushy black beard and equally bushy black hair. He wore a large set of beige and brown robes, with hundreds of pockets sewn into them. Small black eyes searched the room, finally resting on a lump on the couch. The lump shook and jiggled, his lard-filled body anxious with an intruder in the shack. Vernon Dursley stomped down the staircase as the man took a few steps into the room. A long metal pipe rested in Vernon's meaty grasp. Vernon clicked the safety off. The moonlight flashed off the shotgun's lever. His son, Dudley, popped up from his place on the couch and backed away slowly. His wife Petunia followed closely behind him down the staircase. The two frightened parents made their way slowly to their son, Vernon trained the weapon at the large man.

"Harry Potter- well, you have gotten a little more than fat haven't yeh?" The man asked Dudley. Dudley, wide eyed and empty-headed, stared at the man. Vernon shouldered the weapon as his face reddened.

A boy with a mop of messy black hair stood behind the fireplace mantel. He choked on his own laughter, ending up on his knees. His knobby knees held up an even more knobby body. He was all elbows and ribs, dressed in worn pajamas. He had a thin face to match, with broken round glasses framing a gaunt set of stunning eyes. Tears rolled from emerald green, mildly glowing in the darkness. He looked up at the giant, taking in every detail of the man. Standing, he kicked aside the thin, blue blanket. The man noticed the small boy tucked away from the rest of the house's occupants "Oh blimey, you must be Harry, o' course."

Harry took a few steps out into the light. The man got a good look at Harry before glancing at Vernon. "I-I'm Harry Potter, how do you know my name? Who are you?"

The man began chuckling at Harry's first question.

"I am Rubeus Hagrid, but call me Hagrid," Hagrid flopped down on the couch, ignoring Vernon, who became increasingly more angry. "Now, of course, I have this-" Hagrid pulled a thick parchment envelope from his breast pocket. "A letter for Harry James Potter…" His voice trailed off as he read further down the page. He hadn't done so before, and now learned where Harry slept at night. He handed it to Harry, amid Vernon's purple face twisted with rage. "Harry Potter, yeh sir, are a Wizard." He paused and glared at Vernon. "A damn, fine Wizard if I have ever seen one."

"I'm a what?" Harry asked. The small rock-island shook at the rumble of thunder overhead. Lightning flashed and lit the room through the spaces in the walls. Hagrid pulled a birthday cake out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. The cake turned out to be only slightly squished, and made of rich, creamy chocolate. "These Muggles might try to tell you different, but you fit in just fine with our lot." Harry scooped cake with his fingers and put the tastiest treat he had ever eaten into his mouth. A grin of satisfaction was plastered to the child's face. His own cake on his Eleventh Birthday.

"Muggles?" Asked Harry, mouth filled with cake. Hagrid shook his head with a small grin on his face.

"Our name for non-magical folk. But, o'course, you'll be studying grander things than these muggles at Hogwarts. Ya know about Hogwarts don' ya?" Harry shook his head slowly, not knowing something tended to discomfort him. Hagrid shouted, "Lily and James Potter's Heir not knowing about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I'll be taking him there! tell you what Dursley, in a different life we'd-" he caught himself, remembering the children in the room.

"You knew my parents? What were they like before the accident? Did you know them long? They went to Hogwarts? Is that where they died? What did-"

Harry was surprised that Vernon had taken so long to interrupt their moment.

"Like hell you will- you filthy beast! Don't believe a word he says, boy, he's a liar and a trespasser, and I'm calling the police!" Harry's Uncle Vernon shouted, his ugly mug turning red with protest. Obviously, the response rate for the London Police Department out in the middle of nowhere was quicker in Vernon's distorted brain than reality could provide. Petunia's head rested on a long neck, often poking over the shoulder of her whale of a husband. In this moment, she stood beside her husband, both had a hand on their son's shoulders. Harry glanced from the trio to Hagrid and back again. Petunia's bleached blonde hair was disillusioned by her black roots. Roots matching Harry's black hair. A recessive trait in their family. Petunia's mother and Lily sported rosy red locks.

"We promised ourselves that we would rid that brat of his dysfunction, and we've done our best no help to your lot and that funny fellow-" Petunia stopped speaking. Harry's shoulders and neck tensed and locked back as Petunia spoke.

"You knew?!" Harry shouted, his world exploding in his head. Harry's almond eyes raced back and forth between Hagrid and Vernon. Hagrid held a purple umbrella threateningly at Vernon, as if it could stand up to a twelve gauge rifle. Harry heard a low, deep wind whistle around his ears. Harry imagined the wind seeping into his mind. He imagined a cool, watery gel flowing under his skin. Harry stood with his eyes closed as his family and Hagrid watched. The couch in the middle of the room began to rattle. The chairs and table rocked together, and then slammed against the wooden wall. Harry's head dropped and looked at the floor, his eyes still closed. He brought his arms into his chest and began to shake. Harry's head snapped up and his eyes flew open. His eyes glowed unnaturally, pulsing and flashing as he glared at his uncle. Waves of anger rolled off his body, emitting from his lower back and traveling across his body.

Hagrid stared on, his arm falling and the umbrella aiming unconsciously at Dudley. The waves of magic flowing from Harry shocked Hagrid. To Hagrid, the only similar feeling was within the halls of Hogwarts. His umbrella began sparking at the tip, flicking small spurts of electricity at Dudley.

"Harry-" Hagrid fruitlessly began.

Harry could not hear him over the magic pulsing in his ears. Vernon raised the rifle and trained the muzzle at his nephew's chest. The wind returned around Harry and wrapped around his body, Harry felt his lungs squeeze together as the energy burst out. The wind lashed out and pulled the rifle from Vernon, twisting and shattering against the fireplace. An arch of magic swept up Vernon and threw him against the wall. Petunia rushed to his side, but a gush of magic pulled the window out of the sill. Rain entered through the hole in the wall, mixing with the magicked wind to drench the couple beneath a ripped curtain. Dudley watched in horror as magic terrorized his parents. He clenched the chocolate cake while tears poured down his face.

Harry's arms, now outstretched, were covered in goose bumps. The hair on his forearms stood on end. Short fingers squeezed into a fist, the cake floated up a foot into the air and smashed across Dudley's face. The light died from Harry's eyes, and he collapsed to the ground.

His mouth was dry. Like when Dudley forced sand into his mouth during a bout of 'Harry Hunting.' Dudley and his friends would chase Harry around the neighborhood and the nearby park until they tired. Occasionally, they would catch him when he was off his game. Harry quickly learned to avoid the sandbox at the park, otherwise he would eat the 'sand-wich' Dudley so creatively invented. He once told his teacher about 'Harry Hunting,' only for her to be transferred to a lower grade. Whenever Harry approached her, she would glare and Harry believed she even hissed at him once.

So he kept that game to himself.

He had kept his eyes shut since he awoke moments earlier. The last thing Harry could remember was Dudley with the cake, before he was swimming in darkness. His dreams were clouded with a heavy smoke, unlike any Harry had ever had. He peaked his eyes open. Bright, white light blinded him. He reached around for his glasses, finding them on the bedside table. The taped bridge sometimes scratched his nose and he couldn't quite see far away, but they were a better prescription than the last pair Petunia tossed his way. Blue wallpaper was enchanted with people riding broomsticks and tossing around balls to one another.

Otherwise, he was in the cleanest hospital room he had ever been in. He couldn't see a speck of dust, not even under the other bed beside his own. Matching brown blankets covered the beds, with white linen sheets underneath. Unlike other hospitals rooms he had been in, there were no machines or computers. A plastic box on the door held a chart that Harry assumed was his. He couldn't see anything but brick out his window. Small wedges of sunlight cast on the floor by his feet. He hadn't seen sunlight since the first morning the they arrived on the island.

Harry tried to swing his legs out of bed, only to find himself hardly able to sit up. A bracelet was wrapped around Harry's wrist.

Harry Potter, Patient #3289. St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Mind Magic Wing, Spell Damage Department, Floor Four.

He sat in silence, alone with his racing thoughts. The people flying brooms slowed down, somehow recognizing the effect they were having on him. He chewed his lip while rereading his bracelet over and over. His olive skin was pale, he didn't know how long he had been in bed, but his body was weak. He remembered reading about muscle dystrophy in long-term patients, but that didn't answer his questions. He fell back asleep at some point, but his dreams were frightening. He was Vernon. The shotgun heavy in his hands, his arms barely able to aim at his nephew. Harry felt Vernon's fear, invisible whips grasped around Vernon's chest and knees. Sweeping him off his feet and sending him arse over tea kettle into the shack's wall. Harry flew into Petunia's body, running after her bewitched husband as her stomach flipped and fumbled.

"Harry."

Harry woke startled and sweaty. The sun had disappeared, but he had no moonlight to keep him company. Only a small, brown-haired woman. Dressed in similar robes as Hagrid, although her's was clean and pure white. She had a kind smile with thick red lips and light brown skin. She looked to be from somewhere in the Arabian Peninsula, Harry couldn't distinguish between them well enough to guess. Vernon didn't let his family interact with anyone not up to his standard.

"Hello," Harry said softly. She sat down in the chair beside his bed, she readied her clipboard on her lap. A long, feathered quill rested across the top. "You wouldn't have any water, would you?"

She pulled a short stick from her sleeve and tapped the air. A pitcher of water floated into the room with two glasses following in suit. They poured themselves before finding each one of their hands.

Harry sat in awe. How did magic get old to anyone? Harry did not want to find out. He drank eagerly, having enough strength to raise the glass to his lips. He set the glass on the table and returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

"That was amazing," Harry said. She smiled again. "Who are you?"

"I am Healer Hestia Jones, I have been instructed by Healer Gaius Greengrass to do your intake," Jones answered in a British accent. "What is your full name?"

"Harry James Potter."

She scribbled.

"Where are you?" Jones asked.

Harry paused and itched his bracelet. "St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Mind Magic Wing, Spell Damage Department, Floor Four."

She looked up from her clipboard and met Harry's eyes. He shrugged passively, while she returned to her quill and scratched down a few words.

"How did you come to need our care?" Jones delicately asked. Harry looked down, flashes of lighting crossed his mind, chocolate cake, an umbrella. "Harry…" He looked into her dark brown eyes.

"I killed my uncle," Harry answered flatly. Jones' brown eyes held steady as she shook her head. "I scared my aunt, and hit my cousin." Scribble. "I remember being in the shack with Hagrid-"

Her chin turned sharply, keeping her eyes locked with Harry's.

"Hagrid?" Harry nodded. "When did you talk with Hagrid?"

He chewed his lip. "Just before I lost control. He was delivering my Hogwart's letter, and my birthday cake." His stomach growled, reminiscing the heavenly icing. "He didn't bring me here?"

She shook her head slowly. "I will be right back with you, Harry, I need to ask Healer Greengrass for his advice." He watched quietly as she left the room, only to return five minutes later with a sharply dressed man in tow. He had brown, well-kept hair. He wore a similar robe as Jones, only his had green trimmings at the hem and ends of his sleeves. His skin was pearly white and his smile calmed Harry. "Harry, this is Healer Gaius Greengrass, Director of Mind Magic Research and Recovery."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," His low, soft voice still managed to rumble in Harry's ear. He nodded at Harry. "We need you to tell us what you remember about what happened on your birthday."

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes going over every detail. From meeting Hagrid to his outburst, leaving no detail out. The two Healers sat together in silence when Harry finished his account. "May I ask," Harry began, Jones nodded. "How did I end up here?"

Healer Greengrass sat up in his chair. "The Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement fire-called and warned that the Runestones within the Department of Mysteries had lit up. The Unspeakables believed a number of attacks occurred near Magical Britain's outer, and more ancient, Wardstones. We readied the Spell Damage unit only for Director Bones to apparate directly into the lobby with you floating beside her. Two of her Aurors had your family members brought in-" Harry stared dumbly. "Our top police officer warned us and then showed up with you and your family."

This is not what Harry wanted to have happened. Vernon smashing in the wall. Scaring Dudley. At least he wasn't dead. He should have realized they knew when wizards used magic, how couldn't they? He had to have been in deep trouble with- what did Healer Greengrass call it? The Department of Magical Law Enforcement… Harry didn't go five minutes of knowing he was a wizard before getting into trouble. Vernon was right, he was a criminal. He was seven again, being reminded that his father was drunk driving when he killed himself and Harry's mother in a car crash. Vernon had slapped Harry for putting one too many ice cubes in his gin and tonic.

"Mr. Potter…" Healer Greengrass was staring at him. "Where did you go, son?"

Harry didn't have an answer for him.

"You were reliving that night, weren't you Harry?" Healer Greengrass asked. Harry nodded without thinking, noticing Healer Greengrass called him Harry for the first time. "I'm not upset with you Harry, no one is. You may not believe us," He said, noticing Harry's confusion. "Director Bones brought you here because she was worried about your safety, not because you are in trouble." Healer Greengrass watched Harry's face for any sort of hint.

The two Healers sat back and looked to one another.

"Son, you said a man named Hagrid was there that night?" Healer Greengrass continued at his nod. "When the DMLE got there, the only people on the island were the four of you. You had a Hogwart's letter tucked into your waistband."

"Do you not believe me?" Harry asked sharply. Betrayal thick in his voice. A look of surprise flashed across . "We could fingerprint the envelope-"

"Harry, I believe you. There is no way you would know that name unless you met Rubeus Hagrid. We know him well, both of us attended Hogwarts too," Healer Jones supplied. "We are simply confused as to why Hagrid was delivering your letter to you. Normally, Professor McGonagall delivers muggle-raised students their letters," she paused. "At least, she delivered mine."

Harry was surprised again. "You were- you're muggle-raised?" He asked loudly, putting a wide grin on her face. "Is it always like this?"

She laughed once. "No Harry, you are a special case." Harry blushed, special wasn't something he enjoyed being. Dudley was special according to Petunia. That category was not one he wanted to be apart of. "Normally, we would need a legal guardian's permission to perform the next part of the intake. However, under these circumstances and with the approval of the DMLE Head, we only need your consent…" Healer Jones began vaguely. "Healer Greengrass is a Master Legilimens which means he can use magic to find that memory and experience what happened-"

"No," Harry answered, studying the bed sheet he squeezed between his thumb and pointer finger. The two Healers remained silent. "I don't trust you that much."

"That's fair, Harry…" Healer Greengrass admitted. "Just so you are aware, I am not allowed to tell anyone what I see without your permission. I cannot even write down what I-"

"But if you can read my mind, someone can read your mind and see what you saw in my head, I don't want that to happen."

Healer Greengrass smiled. "Very wise, Harry. However, in order to achieve mastery in Legilimency, one must first master Occlumency and if you can guess what that means…"

"You can stop people from reading your mind?" Harry asked. His curiosity getting the better of him.

"Ideally, yes. There are some who can simply overpower me with a magical barrage… but those with that sort of power will be able to find it in your mind much easier than mine." That information slightly frightened Harry. "We can only try to become better wizards, Harry." When he smiled, the corners of his eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks dimpled more deeply than Harry thought possible. "If you sign and agree, we can see what happened and we can use this in court." The thought had never struck Harry that the Wizards would have court. He reasoned they must also have a prison, and if so, he did not want to find out what the inside looked like.

"But I'm guilty, why would I provide evidence that would send me to prison?" Harry asked. The candles began flickering. Healer Jones stood and breathed deeply, the lights regained their shine and she returned to her seat. Harry couldn't help but give her a questioning look. "What was that?"

"I apologize Harry. I must admit, it has been a few years since I last lost control of my magic…" Admitting her fault surprised Healer Greengrass. "You are not going to spend any time in prison, Harry. I promise you that. You have done nothing wrong." She paused and bit her lip, before glancing at her boss. He gave her a nod. "When we did our first series of diagnostic charms, we found you in a sort of magical shock. You were malnourished, horribly underweight and under-height for your age range. Your magic had been keeping you alive for at least three years." The room went silent for a moment as Harry took that in. "Your collar bone, left radius, and a literal handful of bones in your left hand had healed with your magic. They were set improperly. Essentially, they were being held together by your magic. Harry, you will never live with the Dursleys again… so long as I breathe, you will be free from their abuse." Harry had never had anyone say something so kind to him before. He never before had felt the coarse, rough honesty in her voice. Pity deep in her eyes, but Harry did not feel as ashamed as he thought he might feel.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, his eyes locked on his whitening knuckles. He rubbed his hands together as he tried to think of something to respond. The two healers shared a brief look noticed by Harry. "It-I'm not-It's not as bad as your spells- is there any chance you might have made a mistake with the diagnostic?" Harry looked up hopefully. Healer Jones' eyebrows were perked and a sad smile played across her lips.

"No Harry, we can show you our records if you would like to see our evidence-" Harry shook his head no once more. "Harry, we understand this is something that may seem impossible to talk about, and you are under no obligation to talk about what happened. You might be afraid of what they might do or say about you, but if we have your memories of what happened, we could-"

Harry could feel the magic rising in him again, like a long, low whistle across fields of rich, green ferns. Tall, droopy Black-Eyed Susans sprouted here and there in his mind. Chamomile and Sage bushes dotted the field as Harry felt himself fly in the air of his mind. The wind tickled his finger tips and chest. He opened his eyes for the first time in a few minutes to an overly curious Healer Greengrass peering over his nose at Harry.

"Sorry, was I out for awhile?"

"Only a few moments, Harry," Healer Greengrass was at the edge of his seat. His chin high in the air as he analyzed Harry. "What did you see? Where were you?"

Harry slightly smiled as he felt the warmth of the imaginary sun beating down on the grassy field. "I saw skinny purple flowers. Big, yellow sunflowers next to short green shrubs- I think ferns, maybe? And then another type of flower, I can't remember what they're called… Aun- Petunia has them. White petals with a yellow center-"

"Chamomile?" Harry, eyes closed with a wide smile on his face, nodded to Healer Jones. "Ferns, Sunflower, and what was the first one? Skinny and purple? Did she have those ones in her garden?" Harry was surprised at their interest in his imagination. He had never had such vivid images in his mind before, but he would later swear he could feel the sun warming his skin. Had either of the Healers felt him at that point, they would have agreed.

"Sage," Harry finally answered. In his mind's eye, he bent down and closely examined the purple flowers sitting on soft, thick leaves. The flower's color flashed from purple to blue, to pink, to white, before returning to a deep, nearly maroon-ish purple. Harry opened his eyes again to a smiling Healer Greengrass, Healer Jones sat with her mouth in a perfect 'O.' "You know, flies will take advantage of the opening…" Her mouth snapped shut, before chuckling along with the other two. "What, is it weird that I'm seeing this?"

Healer Greengrass bobbed his head from left to right while shrugging his shoulders. "I would not describe anything about you as 'weird,' Harry… Uncommon, maybe. Harry, without any further investigation, I believe that you are entering the very beginning of what some Occlumens will call a natural defense system. That may be a strange concept, at first… a field of flowers being a defensive response to your recent trauma. By the confusion I see on your face, this is the first time you have imagined this particular field before. Have you had any other dreams that may resemble this? Perhaps a daydream in class, or before bed as you drift to sleep?"

Harry shook his head. Before his dream last night, the only reoccurring dream he had ever had involved a blinding burst of green light and horrific screaming. He told the Healers as much. They spoke together quietly, Harry being assured he was not being kept out of the loop, but merely because they did not want to rush his memories and trigger his natural magical defenses.

Without discussing Harry's dream, Healer Greengrass bid Harry a goodnight and wished him peaceful dreams. Healer Jones remained sitting next to Harry for a few moments, her hand grasping Harry's firmly, yet not crushingly so. She too stood, instructed Harry to drink a thick, purple potion, which Harry found interesting in itself, before going to bed.

"Healer Jones, did I say something to upset you? I didn't think you would be upset to hear what I dream about-"

"We are not upset with you Harry," she repeated kindly. Her warm eyes returning, Harry thought he saw tears in her eye but she turned away and walked to the door. "Get some rest Harry, we'll be continuing in the morning."

The purple potion tasted like a Dudley Sandwich but put him to sleep in two minutes flat. He once again found himself swimming through smoke throughout his dreams. He tried finding his way out, only to forget his goal moments later, enjoying the bubbles of odorless, black, and gray smoke bursting around him.

BANG!

He looked around in the smoke, but could not even see his own hand reaching outward.

BANG!

He began swimming harder this time, trying to reach a surface that he only imagined existed. Then he was out, the black smoke splashing against his skin like water as he floated up into the air. The banging was still out of sight, but became more repetitious the higher Harry floated. Harry peaked his eye open. He was safe and back in his room at St. Mungos. The rising sun cast low light over his face, the banging was on the door from the hallway. BANG! He heard again, this time accompanied with muffled shouts of protest. Harry did nothing but lay still. Not only did he not have the energy to get out of bed, but he also did not have the energy to care about the banging. Or the potential intruder. All he could think about was the slight ache in his growling stomach.

After a few moments, the noises subsided. A polite knock rapped on the door before cracking open wide enough for Healer Greengrass to poke his head in. He looked like he hadn't slept a minute all night. He managed to smile at Harry, noticing he was awake and most likely up for the day.

"Sleep well, Harry?" Healer Greengrass asked, slipping inside. He flicked his wand at the door a couple times, swishing in odd and seemingly random directions as the tip of his wand gently glowed white. The door shimmered, Healer Greengrass put a nearly invisible barrier on the door. "Drought of the Sleepless Night, created in the year seventeen oh three by a Potion Mistress on the horn of Africa in Mogadishu. The Sultan at the time could not for the life of him find a remedy for his night terrors, until one of his concubines brought him a potion. Now, Africa has its magic, but their muggles are not as open to this as some of the folk in Asia or even bits of The States. The Sultan found her potion lab, ordered her to create enough Drought to last him his entire life. When she was finished, he poured boiling water on her from her cauldron." He waited to see Harry's reaction before continuing. "What is the moral of the story, Harry?"

Harry paused, not anticipating a philosophical question at the end of what seemed to be a random bit of knowledge.

"Not everyone is worth helping?" Harry offered. Healer Greengrass nodded, accepting the answer. "Can I ask why you told me that?"

"Well, son, I have the Minister of Magic, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and way too many bureaucrats on my floor waiting to see you. I had to keep one witch out, a true shrew of a woman named Umbridge, because she kept trying to open the door with magic. I told you that story, because the Minister is the Sultan, and Director Bones is the Potion Mistress. Do what you will with my opinion. But remember this: most wizards have magical power, and some wizards love their political power more than their magical. Question those people." Without another word, he slashed his wand at the door. The door swung open as he dispelled his original defenses. "Minister Fudge, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic for Wizarding Britain."

A shorter fellow made his way in. He wore fine robes of leather and blue silk. A navy blue tie was around his neck. Fudge did his name honor, his round belly hidden behind his thick outer robes, but not as well as he hoped. A House Crest rested on the breast of his outer robe. A large, red M at the forefront, with a smaller green S and a blue F in opposite corners of the shield. A tiny green snake slithered around and parked itself across from the S, while a similar sized Crown sat opposite the F.

"Ah, where are my manners!" Minister Fudge excused himself, stomping his boots over to Harry's bedside and jutting his hand into Harry's personal space. "A true honor to have the pleasure to meet the Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry took the man's hand, giving a questioning look at Healer Greengrass. He slipped to Harry's other side quickly. "Surely, you must have been told-" Minister Fudge stopped himself, realizing Harry did not know himself by that title. Minister Fudge met eyes with his companion. The door closed behind her, Healer Jones corralling the rest of the undersecretaries away from the door.

She was taller than Fudge by a few inches, but her jaw was much heavier and more square. Hers was not a walk, but a march. She wore a similar suit as Fudge, she wore a heavier, yellow cloak. The Shield holding the cloak around her shoulders had a large red 'M' on it as well. Her's, however, had an 'H' in the lower left corner and a 'B' in the upper right. A small bear sat opposite the 'B,' and a Badger opposite the 'H.' Harry was intimidated, inspired, and self-conscious simultaneously, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. The Minister did not carry himself like the Director did. She had hard, blue eyes that picked apart the entire room as she entered, joining the Minister beside Harry's bed. A golden monocle sat on her right eye. Harry believed only magic could keep that stuck to her face without superglue. Her auburn hair pulled into a neat ponytail, hanging down the middle of her back.

"Director Bones, meet Harry Potter. Harry, this is Director Amelia Bones. She was the person I mentioned yesterday-" Healer Greengrass said as Harry looked up at his savior. He remembered her that night. He was lying on the ground, he felt Hagrid stuff the envelope in his waistband muttering something about a stupid boar? No, a dumb door? He couldn't quite make out what Hagrid had said, but it wasn't long before he remembered hearing the loudest crack he had ever heard. Flashes of her running to his side overtook his physical senses. He remembered her feeling around his body, she noticed he flinched when she touched his collarbone and left arm. Had he broken his arm that recently? He couldn't quite recall how that had happened, only something about the trip to the zoo. Even that was hazy to Harry.

"Harry, are you okay?" Healer Greengrass' voice trailed into Harry's mind. All he could see was Director Bones' worried face as she pulled her wand out. He remembered her dropping her wand and gasping, she had fallen to her knee. "Harry, where are you?"

"I'm being saved by Director Bones," Harry answered, his voice airy and not his own. He had jumped up slightly and touched his collar bone. "You said… 'Lily would kill you.'" Harry opened his eyes. Minister Fudge leaned against the wall, his shoulder supporting his body. One hand covered his mouth while the other cupped his elbow. Healer Greengrass sat beside him to his right, while Director Bones sat on the end of his bed. "Director, did you know my mother?"

She nodded, tears brimming uncharacteristically at the ridge of her eyes.

"She wouldn't kill you, Madam," Harry said politely. Director Bones choked before hiding her face behind a hankie. "I'm sorry if I said something to hurt your feelings-" she coughed, blew her nose, and focused her facial features into the stone mask she nearly had perfected. "Wow, you're pretty good at that."

She let the mask slip and showed him a small smirk.

"I will tell you more about her if you tell me what you remember from that night," Director Bones offered. She cut to the chase quickly, Harry appreciated that about her, she didn't beat about the bush like Healer Greengrass. Harry wanted to know as much as he could about his mother, and he knew what she was after.

"Healer Greengrass said you wanted to read my mind to find out what I did to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia."

Minister Fudge and Director Bones shared a look together before glancing at Healer Greengrass. Who shrugged slightly, out of Harry's view.

"Well, Harry…" She began softly. "Not only because we want to know that… but we also need to see what happened when you lived with them." She could tell the moment it clicked in his head. "You know you are not in any trouble, correct?"

Harry nodded. He could not believe that he was getting away with nearly killing his family members, but they wanted to see what living with the Dursleys was like. Of course, Harry would rather not go back over his life with them. If this would somehow help the Potion Mistress against the Sultan, who Harry thought did not seem like a bad bloke on first impressions, he would let them.

"We need you to sign a few forms giving Healer Greengrass permission to use Legilimency on you. Without a magical or legal guardian to sign, Minister Fudge and I have agreed it is in your best interest to become a Ward," Director Bones explained. At some point, she had rested her hand on Harry's foot and kept it there. Somewhere in Harry, he was comfortable with her more than even Healer Greengrass. Saving him from the island and prison time did that for him. "I am guessing you know what a Ward of the State is, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"This is similar," Minister Fudge supplied. "For magical folk, we do not have Wards of the Ministry. In either case, you would technically be under the guardianship of the Queen (if you were muggle) or Minister. Magical Wards are just that, you become a Ward of Magic. You will be given the opportunity to select a magical guardian, who takes a magical oath to protect and raise you. This title is given to children with no direct relatives, or in your case, missing wills from both the father and the mother. The Ministry recognizes this contract in equal protection under wizard law as parental rights. House Rights and Lordships follow in suit, but don't worry yourself with that right yet. You have many years before you are able to claim Head of House Potter."

Harry was speechless. He would get to choose his guardian? The thought of his parents' wills stayed with him as Minister Fudge continued.

"You will be able to choose your guardian once you become more familiar with some of your parents friends, some candidates that will likely throw their House into the ring to raise you, and the various other solicitors- who offer nothing but smoke and mirrors, mind you. Until you feel comfortable making that decision, Director Bones has agreed to act as your temporary-guardian, which requires a less serious contract that I have had my undersecretaries draw up for us today. Mr. Potter, may I call you Harry?" Harry nodded. "You are under no obligation to do any of this, and we could have a Wizengamot hearing to decide the fate of not only your livelihood, but the fate of House Potter and your political well-being." And Harry then realized what Healer Greengrass meant in his analogy. Harry could see the interworking of the Minister's mind; why would he help a poor, strange child if it did not directly benefit him.

"So, I could either choose my magical guardian, or let a bunch of people I don't know decide for me?" Harry asked. Minister Fudge, smiling politely at Harry's blunt response, nodded. "Where do I sign?"

Minister Fudge pulled out a series of official Ministry Documents from a magically sealed envelope. He spent five minutes organizing them in the proper order, specifically finding each place Director Bones and Harry would need to sign and marking it like the proper office employee he was.

Harry sat silently as Healer Greengrass went over his full diagnostic report with Director Bones. Apparently, a week had gone by until Harry first woke, they failed to mention that to Harry when they did his intake. His magical core was nearly depleted, the bonds around his bones being the last of his reservoirs. The past week had raised his core to ten percent of its normal level, although they did not specify how they found this data. Other than they used spells, that is. But that was a vague answer to Harry, although they were removing him from the Dursleys, so he did not quite care.

"Harry, this may create some difficulties when you are at school," Director Bones quietly admitted, while the Minister worked and Healer Greengrass saw to his staff and patients. "I have made my fair share of enemies and some of these children may know of that. I want you to know that I am very, truly sorry for not checking in on you earlier. Your mother would- you know, I'm not sure what your mother would do. She was eccentric and erratic, an interesting combination. I will tell you all I know about your mother once you settle in with me, I do not want to overwhelm you with those emotions when you are building your core's strength." She looked over Harry with her blue eyes, they softened as Harry met her eyes. She recognized Lily's eyes the second she saw him, but couldn't bring herself to tell him. "Call me Amelia."

"Call me Harry," Harry retorted smartly. She pulled her lips into a tight grin, and Harry wondered what she was getting herself into. There had to have been a reason they took interest in Harry, then Harry put it together. The Minister called him 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' from what? Did the green light happen in the car crash? Harry thought to ask Amelia when the timing was appropriate.

They used long, fountain pens to sign the papers. "You will learn how to use quills in school, they help students focus on your handwriting. For Ministry documents, ink blots were a nuisance until these nifty devices were created. Only a gallon a piece, a steal!" Minister Fudge informed. Harry nodded respectfully as he weakly gripped the pen. He signed his name in sharp, short, neatly-connected cursive letters.

When both finished, the contracts glowed silver. The light floated from the two stacks of parchments and entered Amelia on one end and Harry on the other. A perfectly-sized, silver band appeared on Harry's left thumb. Inspecting the ring, Harry found a small shield with a B inscribed in it. Behind the B, a bear laid lazily in the corner. He poked his head up and appeared to look back at Harry. Amelia watched for his reaction, he looked up at her, amused.

"This is brilliant!" Harry laughed, the bear heard him and stood on his hind legs, waving his paws aggressively- well, it would be aggressive if he wasn't two centimeters long. "I don't know how to thank you-"

"Promise me something," she said automatically. Harry noticed Healer Greengrass and Minister Fudge leaned in with more interest. "You will do your best at Hogwarts, in every class- even History of Magic. Promise me, Harry Potter."

"I promise, Amelia Bones," he smirked as she huffed slightly. He was more like James than she was ready to admit. "When will I be able to do the Legil-mens thing?"

"Do you mean, 'when will you be able to perform the spell?' or 'When will Healer Greengrass perform the spell on me?'" Amelia asked, Harry turned his head slightly at her clarification in question form. He wasn't used to that.

"When will Healer Greengrass perform the spell on me?" Harry repeated. Healer Greengrass had a smug grin on his face watching the two interact. "Sir?"

"Ah, well your magical core is still rebuilding itself. So ideally, with content this emotionally taxing on the recipient and the ambiguity of how often the altercations occurred… I would not feel comfortable performing the spell with less than seventy percent of his core rebuilt." He paused, then nodded to himself. "However, I did notice earlier than he may be slipping into the earlier constructions of an Occlumency shield. This is a common response to trauma, however without further instruction he may trap himself in-"

"What?" Harry blurted out, staring at Healer Greengrass. "I could stay trapped in the field?" Healer Greengrass blushed slightly, forgetting Harry's age.

"Ah, truthfully I am not sure. I have seen some cases that have left the patients in a strange mid-state of mind, so to speak. Their motor functions operate as well as anyone else, but their minds remain in their core level shield. At this level, the proximity to magical influxes and channels distorts reality almost like the Draught of Sleepless Nights does. However, for each individual, well, essentially, their core level is as unique as the patient themselves. I am sorry, Harry, I honestly planned to tell you when you were stronger. It is important we do not rush the healing process anymore than we already have," Healer Greengrass said quickly, he looked at a pocket watch he pulled from his pants. "In fact, Harry best rest. Brunch will be served soon, Harry."

Minister Fudge grasped Harry's hand, "Thank you, Harry. When you are strong enough, we will have enough evidence to put away-ahem-your relatives away for good. Until then, I think a cushioned room at the end of the hall will do them momentary justice." Minister Fudge nodded to Amelia, then to Healer Greengrass as he exited the room.

"Can I bring you something to read or would you-" Harry nodded vigorously. Amelia's lips turned up into a wide smile.

"Something to catch me up on the whole being a wizard… thing." He gave an uncomfortable grin and she couldn't help but laugh. She squeezed his foot before standing up and fixing her robes.

"Get some rest, I'll stop by after work," She started toward the door in a march, like one of her criminals was sitting out in the hallway.

"Amelia," she stopped at Harry's calm voice. "Thank you."

She turned and met his eyes. "No, Harry, thank you."

Author's note:

If you've read until here, thank you again for checking out my work. I like writing poetry so I'll end up sprinkling a fair bit of those throughout the story. Get ready for some MC Sorting Hat (totally joking, but what if I wrote a one-shot where the Sorting Hat was actually Tupac in hiding?)

I hope to have my next chapter up in a week!

Until then, peace!

AB