Author's Note: This story was originally written by Loony Dagda
Chapter One: Tempest
Number four Privet Drive was silent save for the soft footsteps of one tall, grandfatherly old man dressed in bright purple robes. In his arms was a small bundle that shifted slightly with the mans every step. He stopped at the front steps of a house that was identical to every other house on Private Drive. The only difference being the golden number four mounted on the front door that glimmered as it caught a few stray beams of moonlight.
The man placed the small bundle on the front steps. Searching his pocket, the man pulled out a small letter and placed it next to the bundle. He allowed himself a triumphant smirk. The loss of James and Lily Potter had been unfortunate, but Albus Dumbledore saw it as a fair trade for the temporary defeat of Lord Voldemort. To add to that, he'd been left with the means to permanently defeat Voldemort when he returned. The young Harry Potter, who currently asleep, was huddled in a small baby blanket on his aunt and uncles front steps.
To think such a small babe was able to reflect the killing curse and tear Voldemort's shattered soul from his body was absolutely astounding. If he had such power when he was less than two years old, Dumbledore could only imagine the power the boy would possess when he finally came to Hogwarts. But this also led to a new problem.
If the boy was not carefully watched, and reined in, he could become as power hungry as the man who was once Tom Riddle, and to be honest, Dumbledore doubted he would have the strength to defeat Harry Potter if the boy were to ever go dark.
Hence why he was in Surrey, leaving the young Potter with his muggle relatives, who happened to conveniently be his only living relatives. Ten years of growing up in their home would leave Harry opened to Dumbledore's guidance and influence. He would never have the chance to study magic before Hogwarts, and thanks to the slight compulsion spell Dumbledore had placed on the letter, Harry would be humble and more than ready to look upon Dumbledore as a surrogate grandfather after being mistreated by his own family.
Dumbledore's smirk softened to a sad smile as he gazed down at the small boy. He knew the coming years wouldn't be kind to Harry, but it was for the greater good. The wizarding world couldn't risk the creation of a new dark lord.
He turned away from number four private drive and walked away, pausing at the picketed fence entrance to look back at the young orphan still sleeping on the front steps.
"Good luck Harry." with a pop Albus Dumbledore vanished.
A breeze slowly picked up, swinging the unlocked gate open and closed. Little Harry gave a yawn and shifted in his blanket, releasing the letter he'd held tightly in his small fist. Another gust blew through the front lawn, whisking the small letter away with it.
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The sunlight streamed through the Dursley's windows, though it failed to wake the inhabitants as it did every other day, for Petunia and Vernon Durlsey were already wide awake, and had been for a good hour.
Petunia had been disturbed when she'd opened the front door to fetch the milk, only to discover a small baby sleeping on the steps instead. Her cry of shock had woken her large husband and he joined her in the front hall in a matter of moments.
After picking up the small bundle and failing to find any form of identification, the two had moved to the kitchen, where Petunia had heated up a kettle for tea, and Vernon had stared ceaselessly at the baby, who was still sleeping quite peacefully.
"What should we do with it Vernon?" Petunia asked timidly after setting a cup of hot tea in front of her husband and joining him in staring at the little boy that had found his way to their home.
"I suppose we should bring him to police. We can't keep him after all. It's possible someone is looking for him." Petunia's lip curled just the slightest bit.
"What irresponsible parents to just abandon their child." Vernon reached out a pudgy hand to pat his wife's own bony ones reassuringly.
"Now 'tunia. No doubt the police will see it the same way and place him with more responsible people." A loud cry interrupted them.
"Oh, little Duddykins is awake!" Vernon smiled proudly. His son had quite a set of lungs on him.
"Go take care of Dudders, dear. I'll drop this baby off at the police station on my way to work." Petunia nodded, convinced that her husband had everything under control, and rushed up the stairs to take care of their wailing son. Vernon turned his attention back to the small baby, who was finally beginning to stir, uncertainly.
He did feel a bit guilty about just foisting the boy off on the police, but his family was simple, normal. An abandoned baby didn't fit into his perfect family.
"Right then, better get going." Vernon took a last sip of his cooling tea before carefully picking the baby up and shifting him till he was settled in the crook of Vernon's left arm. He left the house, careful to check for nosy neighbors, and fumbled for his keys as he got into his car. Starting it, Vernon pulled out quicker than usual.
It wasn't long till the Surrey police station came into view. Now Vernon had to decide. Leave the boy on the front steps and drive off to work before anyone spotted him, or go inside and drop the boy off, but risk being questioned about such an abnormal event.
In the end Vernon settled on the first option, which is how young Harry Potter woke to find himself lying in front of the surrey Police Station with several men in blue pressed uniforms gawking at him. Harry stared up at the men in confusion. Where was he, where was the nice lady who gave him milk and the funny man who made him laugh? He whimpered. It was cold out and he was hungry, and these strange people were scaring him.
"Honestly, what are you all staring a... oh my! What do you think you're doing, just leaving this poor baby lying here." A lady that reminded him of his lady bent down and picked him up. He sighed happily. That was better, now he would get to eat, and maybe the funny man would come and make strange faces.
The police officer holding little Harry in her arms pushed her way past the others into the station. She picked up the first phone she could find and dialed the number for social services.
"Hello? Yes, this is Officer Morris. Could you send someone down to the Surrey Police Station? Yes, someone left a baby out front...yes I've got him right here. He seems young, only a year, two at the most...right. I'll be waiting out front with him." Officer Morris hung up the phone and gazed sadly down at the little boy.
"You poor thing. Don't worry, we'll find you a nice warm place to stay soon enough." Harry smiled as the lady talked to him. He didn't know what she was saying, but she sounded nice.
Ten minutes later, a young man pulled up in a large white van. He looked up at officer Morris then down at a small clipboard.
"You're the Officer that gave us a call about an abandoned baby earlier?"
"Yes, he's right here." She handed over the, once again sleeping, child to the man.
"Right then. Just sign this for our records. There was no form of identification on him, was there?"
"No, just a small baby blanket. It looked well made though." the man nodded and took back the clipboard. He shifted Harry into an easier to hold position and headed back to the van.
"Wait! Tell me if his family comes looking for him, won't you?" The man smiled slightly and nodded.
"Of course.
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10 Years Later
"Ezekiel Adam Bishop! This is the last straw! I want you out of this house." The small boy winced as the woman continued to rant about the latest incident he had supposedly caused. It wasn't the fact that she was screaming at the top of her lungs, he was used to that from all the other mothers and fathers who'd done the same thing before shipping him off to the next unfortunate family. It was that she'd used his full name.
He hated it when someone did that. The first family that had attempted to take him in at the age of 4 had been insanely religious, and thus gave him a very biblical name, as was the apparent tradition in their family. Up until then he hadn't had an official name, just various nicknames that the people at the orphanage had grown used to calling him. Now he was forever stuck with the name Ezekiel Adam Bishop, though he didn't mind people calling him Zeke. Naturally, he hadn't been all that sad when they'd finally had enough of him after three years.
That had been the longest he'd spent with any one family. Since then he'd been bounced from one home to another. This latest woman, the thirty five year old nurse, Alice Bennett, was number twenty-nine, and it looked like she was about to break the record for shortest time ever, at two weeks even.
Alice had, by now, finished her rant and stormed into the kitchen to dial up social services. It used to bother Zeke, how quickly the people who had offered to take care of him, love him, would give up and ship him off to be someone else's problem, but he more than expected it now. He even understood why they did it, to a point. He wasn't their real kid after all. Why would anyone voluntarily put themselves through the trouble that followed him from home to home when he wasn't even related to them.
Zeke wasn't a bad kid, like many of the children in his position were. It was just, where ever he went, thousands of unexplainable accidents followed. The Bishop family had actually tried to exorcise demons from him a few times, once they made the connection that the accidents had started once he arrived, not that it did any good. He couldn't explain why things like objects exploding randomly, or schoolyard bullies finding themselves in unclimbable trees kept happening, but he wished more than anything that they would stop.
Whatever it was, it had caused him more than enough trouble for a lifetime. One man had even ended up dead, though to be fair he had attempted to stab Zeke with some crazy looking knife in an even crazier ritual once he'd discovered Zeke's supposed 'power'. That had been ended quickly with the mans own heart exploding from his chest. The police had ruled it as some extreme heart attack, but Zeke knew he was responsible. From that point he'd done his best to hide that he was the source of the strange accidents, but it wasn't easy.
The doorbell rang and Zeke went over to open it. Not surprised in the least to find Joshua Albertson at the door. Joshua smiled sadly. He was as used to this as Zeke was. Joshua happened to be in charge of picking up children who'd outworn their welcome, and that meant he was quite used to picking up Zeke.
"Hey there Zeke, you packed?"
"Nothing to pack. Can we go now." Joshua patted him on the head, ruffling his pitch black hair. Zeke frowned and combed his long hair back into neat straight locks with his fingers. Joshua had always had some strange obsession with messing his hair up, ever since he'd grown it out.
"In a minute. Go wait in the car while I talk to Ms. Bennett, alright?" Zeke huffed, but obeyed and headed out to the small, worn white car. He buckled himself in the front passenger seat and sighed. Where would he go next? How long would they keep him this time? It didn't really matter. Just seven more years and he'd be free to live where ever he wanted.
The shrill shouting from inside preceded Joshua almost fleeing from the small house and to the car. The older man didn't say anything as he started the car and pulled out of the drive way. The car was silent until they finally pulled onto the highway.
"So, how did you manage to melt all of her silverware?" Zeke glared at Joshua, who was calmly staring at the road in front of them.
"How d'you think." Joshua sighed.
"There has to be some way for you to control this... thing. You can't just keep moving from family to family like this."
"Why not?"
"Zeke, it's only a matter of time before another psycho realizes you're behind the... accidents, and when they do..." he left the sentence hanging. He didn't need to finish it. The newly turned eleven year old clenched his small fists and glared at the rear view mirror. His brilliant emerald green eyes and pale face glared right back at him, as if his reflection blamed him for all the trouble they'd been through as well.
"Look, I talked to Mrs. Northrop, and we both agree you should spend the summer at the orphanage. Maybe a little time there will help you."
"You're not serious, are you?!"
"I know you're not crazy about orphanage, but what else can we do. You haven't been with a family for longer than a month for two years, and this was your shortest time yet. Even the worst kids usually get a couple months."
"Whatever." Joshua sighed and risked a glance at the boy he new far too well.
"If it makes you feel better, I'll be spending most of the summer there as well. Mrs. Northrop decided I needed to take a break."
Zeke ignored him and stared out the window, watching the cars whip past them as they sped down the highway. Joshua didn't understand, and he never would. None of the people at the orphanage ever understood why he hated that place so much.
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride, though Joshua took every opportunity to glance over at Zeke worriedly. An hour later they finally pulled into the large driveway of St. Mary's orphanage. The newly restored building loomed like a monster in front of Zeke. He clenched and unclenched his hands as Joshua parked and got out of the car.
"Coming?" Joshua asked, looking at the still sitting Zeke. Without answering the black haired boy shoved his door open and got out of the car in a foul mood. The door opened before they reached it as the head of the orphanage, Mrs. Northrop, came out to great them with a bright smile. Zeke never failed to be amazed at how the woman always managed to seem so happy.
"It's wonderful to see you again Ezekiel!" Zeke winced. Mrs. Northrop always insisted on using his full name rather than the preferred nickname. "I have something for you, it came yesterday." the old woman held out a yellowed envelope with the orphanage's address and his full name written in green ink on the front.
"You just won't believe how it was delivered, too. I was sitting in my office doing some paperwork when an owl flew in through the window and dropped this in my lap before flying off." Joshua and Zeke both stared at the woman in shock. Both thinking something along the lines of Mrs. Northrop perhaps being a little too old for her job.
"Now, don't go giving me those looks. I know what I saw, and this letter is proof enough that I didn't imagine it. Go on, take a look at it." With slightly shaking hands, Zeke took the letter and opened it. He unfolded the first piece of paper and was tempted to pinch himself.
Dear Mr. Bishop,
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.
We await your immediate response by owl, someone will arrive to fetch you.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Numbly, Zeke handed the letter to Joshua, whose eyes continued to widen as he read it.
"Well? What does it say?" Mrs. Northrop asked excitedly. Zeke suspected she clung to anything of interest, a result of doing nothing but sitting in an office all day, with the occasional child to reprimand and adult to meet with.
Joshua handed the letter to her, still looking slightly dazed.
"Um, you said this was delivered by an... owl?"
"Yes, dear!" Zeke's eye twitched at her energetic response.
"It says to send a response by owl as well." Joshua finally spoke up. He was used to strange things happening, with Zeke at the center. A school for magic didn't sound as far fetched as it might have once."
"Oh, nothing to worry about. I remember a letter like this coming for another young man. If I remember correctly, a nice gentleman came by when he wasn't able to find an owl." Zeke perked up at this. He'd never heard of someone else like him being stuck at St. Mary's before. Of course the majority of staff at the orphanage tended to avoid him like the plague, worried that they might fall victim to one of his 'accidents'.
"How long ago? I've worked here for at least fifteen years." Mrs. Northrop chuckled.
"Oh, it was long before you were even born, Joshua. I may not look it, but I'm quite old." Joshua and Zeke shared dubious sidelong glances. The old woman might not have imagined the owl, but that didn't mean she was completely sane.
"Let's see. It had to be at least fifty years ago. I had just started working here as an assistant when he got his letter."
"What was his name?" Zeke asked eagerly. Yes, it might have been fifty years ago, but hearing a name would make it all the more real for him.
"I think it was Tim... no, Tom. Tom Riddle, that's it. Such a charming young man. He was around your age when he got his letter as well." Tom Riddle. Zeke knew that name. Not that he'd ever met the man, but his name was carved into the headboard of Zeke's bed.
Many nights, He would fall asleep, wondering who Tom had been, if he'd been adopted, or if he'd only been able to leave the orphanage once he turned 18. Sometimes he would have imaginary conversations with Tom, no one else would stay near him long enough to have a decent talk with after all.
"Maybe we should continue this inside. It's getting a bit chilly out." Joshua interrupted. A slight breeze emphasized his point, sending a shiver up Zeke's spine.
"Oh, dear, you're right." Mrs. Northrop pouted, which looked strange on the face of a woman as old as she was. "I've never enjoyed London's cold weather. You know I grew up in a nice little town in Australia..." Joshua skillfully maneuvered her towards the door as she continued telling them of her younger years.
It wasn't uncommon for Mrs. Northrop to get lost in her memories, and drag anyone in the immediate area with her. The best way to avoid the trap was to, of course, ignore her. Unfortunately that was much easier said than done. The woman had one of those voices that just wouldn't allow you to ignore it, not to mention she was such a cheerful person, most people simply felt too guilty to ignore her.
That wasn't a problem for Zeke, though. Joshua sent him a pleading look as he moved past the still talking woman and the trapped Joshua. If he understood what Mrs. Northrop had told him, then all he needed to do was wait for someone to come to him, until then...
Zeke was happy to see that his bedroom door was still locked. Apparently the staff had finally accepted that he just wasn't suited for a roommate. He took one of his shoes off and pulled out the key he had hidden in it. The lock stuck a little as he turned it, the place may have been restored recently, but recently for this place meant somewhere between ten and twenty years.
Leaving the door slightly open behind him, they weren't allowed to close or lock their doors when they were in them since one girl had tried to kill herself a few years ago, Zeke threw himself on his creaky bed and sighed. One thing he missed about Alice Bennett's home was the cushy bed he'd had. Though even the orphanage beds were better than the near-rock hard mattress he'd slept on during his stay with the Bishops.
'So, Tom Riddle went to this... Hogwarts Place?' That meant Tom was a wizard. Maybe he would get to finally meet Tom when he went to Hogwarts, or at least find out something more about him. What did he look like? Was he smart? Most importantly, was he like Zeke?
There was a soft knock on the door as warning before the door opened and Joshua stepped in. "Hey there."
"Looks like you got away from her." Joshua grinned for a moment before he looked back at Zeke intently.
"About that letter. Do you want to go there?" Zeke didn't even hesitate in his answer.
"Yes." The older man nodded his head, looking at nothing in particular as he thought. His eyes drifted to the small bandanna Zeke had taken to wearing around his forehead.
"I suppose this is what we've been hoping for all this time. All those accidents had to have been magic, and now you can learn to control it.." he looked down at his feet for a moment before lifting his head and grinning.
"You'll have to tell me all about it." Zeke offered him a grin of his own. He could tell Joshua was worried about him, and that made him feel almost as happy as the idea of going to learn magic had. No one had ever really worried about him before.
"I will."
"Right, well, I have to go help with dinner. See you then." Joshua pushed himself up and left quickly. Zeke fingered the bandanna Joshua had been eying, grimacing at the memories it brought back. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at the engraved name on his headboard.
He was going to escape the orphanage and the people who'd hurt him, like Tom Riddle had.
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A week later, an older woman with her hair in a tight bun and an all around stern look about her came to St. Mary's Orphanage.
"I'm sorry to disturb your meal, but I'm looking for a Mr. Ezekiel Bishop?" Mrs. Northrop smiled and led her down the hall way towards her office. She stopped a younger woman on the way, asking her to bring Ezekiel to her office.
"Can I get you something? Tea? Scones?"
"No, thank you though." The stern woman took a seat. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm a Professor at Hogwarts."
"Ah yes, Ezekiel received your letter just last week. He's been anxious all week wondering when someone would come." The office door opened as Zeke entered and inspected McGonagall intensely. McGonagall looked as if she had seen a ghost.
"Would you be Ezekiel?"
"Yes, but I like it better when people call me Zeke." McGonagall gave him a thin lipped smile.
"Zeke it is. You look rather remarkably similar to one of my former students." She paused for a moment before continuing. " I've been told you received our letter." Zeke nodded. "Well then, I suppose there isn't much to explain. I've come to take you shopping for school supplies." Zeke frowned. He didn't have any money, an unfortunate side effect of living in an orphanage.
"Hogwarts provides certain students with a small stipend of sorts, solely for your supplies of course." She continued, correctly guessing the reason for Zeke's look. "If it is alright with you," McGonagall asked, turning her attention back to Mrs. Northrop, "We can leave now."
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Professor McGonagall had already taken him everywhere else. Their first stop had been the Wizarding Bank Gringgotts. The goblins had fascinated him. Of course, he'd never seen anything like them before.
After McGonagall had withdrawn enough money from the Hogwarts Account, they'd gone on to a small second-hand robe shop. He'd tried talking the stern woman into letting him get his robes at a shop called Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions, but she had flat out refused, stating they simply didn't have the money to go spending on unnecessarily expensive items.
From there had been the apothecary, which had smelled... interesting, though McGonagall had apparently liked it far less than he had. He would have loved to have spent more time there. The professor had eventually been forced to drag him away from a barrel labeled "beetle eyes". It seemed that anywhere he went, people were staring at him and calling him that strange name. Who was Harry Potter and what did he have to do with him?
Then came the book store. While McGonagall had picked up his school books, Zeke had browsed around the rest of the store. He spotted several books that looked interesting, particularly the ones on ancient pureblood families. He'd overheard a blond boy his age lecturing a bushy haired girl about wizarding families as he and McGonagall had been leaving Gringotts. Some of the things the boy had said had left an impression on him, and he wasn't about to let an opportunity to learn more about the wizarding world go by. But he knew the stern woman would never let him get them, so Zeke did the only other thing he could. He stole them.
It hadn't been to difficult. He'd just thought of all those times he'd caused accidents, which he now knew was his magic. He remembered they'd all happened when he'd been especially emotional. And using that, Zeke had tried to feel as desperate to have the books as he possibly could, and miraculously, it worked. The stack of books Zeke had been holding with both arms now fitted in one cupped hand.
When no one was looking, he'd casually slipped the shrunken books into his pants pocket and moved to the front of the store to meet with McGonagall. He was still amazed he'd made it out of the store without anyone becoming suspicious. They soon arrived at the wand shoppe, Ollivander's.
"Ah, Mr. Potter.. It is a pleasure to meet you. Here for you're first wand, then? You know, I remember when your parents came here. Yes, your father had " The silver eyed Mr. Ollivander asked.
"Pardon me, sir, but my last name isn't Potter. I'm Zeke Bishop." Mr. Ollivander raised a gray eyebrow.
"Oh? Has anyone told you that you could pose as James Potter's clone? Well, except for the eyes, that is." James Potter? Who was he?
"If you'd hold out your dominate hand?" This brought the boy out of his thoughts. Zeke began to tell the man he was ambidextrous, but stopped himself. The man didn't really need to know that, and keeping that a secret might prove useful later on. He quickly picked his right hand, which was a bit stronger than his left anyways, and held it out to the old man. With a snap of his wrinkled fingers, Ollivander had a long tape measurer flying around him, measuring everything from the length of his arm to the distance between his nostrils.
While Zeke was growing slightly dizzy trying to keep his eye on the tape measurer, Ollivander was moving through the towering shelves, occasionally bringing over a thin box and placing it on the counter before moving back into the maze of boxes.
After several minutes of this, Ollivander came back with one last box before telling the tape measurer to stop, Zeke assumed it was the tape measurer the man was talking to anyways.
"Now, lets try this one. Eleven inches..."
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Twenty-three wands and fourteen magical disasters later, Zeke stepped out of the dusty wand shop and into the bright afternoon sun thoroughly crept out. The wand selection had gone well, save for almost destroying the tiny store.
It wasn't until Ollivander had decided that none of his usual wands would work that everything began to go down hill.
Flashback
"Hmm, you're quite the tricky customer, aren't you." Not waiting for an answer, The silver eyed man made another trip into the back, retuning five minutes later with a single wand box, which he held almost reverently in his hands.
"Something tells me, Mr. Bishop, that this wand should work." Zeke eyed the box as Ollivander opened it and pulled out a wand. A very... beautiful wand.
It wasn't anything to special. Thin and long, ending with a point unlike most of the round tipped wands he'd already tried. A deep, nearly black, grey. Still, something about the wand drew him in, ensnared him.
He gladly took hold of the wand as Ollivander held it out to him. A cool, soothing feeling rushed up his arm as his fingers wrapped around it. Instinctively his arm raised and brought the wand swishing through the air, a burst of blue and silver sparks shooting from it as it went.
"Yes, yes, I must say I'm not surprised, though it is... curious." Zeke knew Ollivander wanted him to ask about the wand and decided to give the man what he wanted.
"What's curious?"
"Well, the wand itself is nothing too spectacular. Twelve inches, willow, with a phoenix feather core. However, the phoenix feather in your wand once belonged within another's. One that shattered the very moment He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was at last defeated..." Behind him, Zeke heard McGonagall gasp softly.
He didn't blame her. Zeke didn't know much about the Dark Lord that most wizards seemed to still be afraid of, but he'd managed to get a bit from one of the books he'd looked at. What he had learned had been, impressive. To find that the core of his wand once belonged to the brother of the Dark Lords wand was quite a shock.
Zeke looked up from his wand to find Ollivander's eerie silver eyes focused on his bandanna He resisted the urge to fidget with it, not wanting to draw anymore attention to it and what it hid than necessary.
"So, how much?" Ollivander cocked an eyebrow but thankfully let the matter drop.
"That will be fifteen galleons."
End Flashback
Yes, Ollivander was a very creepy person, and Zeke had no plans of going near him in the foreseeable future. Zeke followed McGonagall back to the leaky cauldron in silence. He'd wanted to ask about getting a pet, but didn't bother.
He groaned and fought to keep his breakfast down as the the fireplace threw him out into Mrs. Northrop's office. The woman wasn't there so he left and made his way back to his room, fingering the small ticket McGonagall had given him before throwing him into the fireplace. Thankfully she had explained everything to him, and Zeke was confident he'd have no problem boarding the Hogwarts Express come September first.
Finally arriving at his room, he noted the door was opened when he remembered closing and locking it. Zeke sighed and threw himself on his bed. The open door meant a new roommate, one he wasn't looking forward to meeting.
He wasn't too worried though. September first was only a month away.