AN: Alright, apologizes for the poor formatting this ch. originally had, this is the first fic I have posted here and I'm still figuring out all the idiosyncrasies. This fic is an idea that I have had sitting around for some time, but never got around to putting it to paper. I am taking some liberties with the timeline, events moved forward about a decade and technology back about the same. I can't make any promises about updates, that is entirely dependent on my muse. Also, I had hoped to get a little bit more on the end here, but my muse was being stubborn. As always, Reviews are appreciated and will likely encourage my muse to help update faster.

Larson woke with a groan as the 8 hour plane ride from Boston jolted down on to the Heathrowe tarmac. Stretching stiffly in the cramped coach seat he had been assigned, he looked out the small side window. "Looks like every other London day I've ever heard about, dull and foggy even in August, bleh, what a bitch" Taxing to the terminal, the ramp latching on and a muffled hiss as the plane depressurized signaled the end of his trip, at least the this leg. "Now to find the damm family I got stuck with," he groused as he sidled in to the aisle, grabbing the large duffel from the over head and the slim black laptop bag under his seat. Striding his 5'11" frame down the small aisle, he shook his shaggy brown hair in an attempt disrupt the static charge the plane ride had built up in it. His golden flecked, hazel eyes scanned the crowd, his hands wandering into various pockets as his lithe muscular frame slithered through the sea of mostly business men and women and by the time he had made it to customs, he had 12 phones, 6 PSPs and 2 netbooks stashed in his bag to wipe and sell later. Passing through the gate, he quickly stepped to the side and out of the flow of people, catching his breath he scanned the busy terrace, looking for any sort of family that might be waiting for him. Not seeing anyone made him slightly annoyed, but he did notice a young boy that he guessed was about ten standing all alone, with a look that clearly said he was searching for someone. Weaving his way through the crowd as if they weren't even there, he quickly approached the messy black haired boy. "You look lost in this sea of people, someone I can help you find?" He offered the boy, making him jump. The black haired child looked sheepishly at his feet and quietly replied "No sir, my aunt and uncle just have me waiting for the exchange student we are here to pick up." A little shocked that anyone would leave such a young boy unattended, he asked, "Well, where are your aunt and uncle? Since it seems that I'm who you are waiting for, we best find them." The boy's face was stunned when he realized the person he had been waiting on had found him. "Umm, right this way sir, my uncle and cousin are eating..." adding "again" under his breath. Following the wisp of a child though the crowd, Larson was again surprised at the boy's demeanor, he constantly stopped to let others by, kept his head down, and barely made eye contact. Something is wrong here, and I don't like it one bit. Larson mused to himself as he weaved between people, keeping pace with his guide. Once they managed to find a spot on the escalator down, Lawson spoke up, "What's your name anyway kid? I'd introduce myself, but I don't like having to do that more than once in a period of a few minutes." "I'm Harry," The other boy replied. "Well Harry, do you have a last name, or do I need to make one up for you?" Larson joked, smiling at Harry. "Potter, Harry Potter sir." "You don't need to keep calling me sir, I can't be that much older than you. How old are you anyway?" "Ten si... I'm only ten." "Well, Harry, I'm only eleven, so no more sir, ok?" The boy just nodded, stepping off the escalator and diving into the crowd once more. With a sigh, Larson followed, as he was led towards one of the many fast food restaurants that lined this level of the concourse.

Entering the burger joint, Harry led Larson through the line to the back of the place, where, at the largest booth, sat what looked like a whale and its progeny, alongside a plank. Harry quietly approached the table, said a few hushed words to the three assembled there and quickly tried to fade into the shadows, which concerned Larson even more. As the whale stood and presented his meaty right flipper to Larson, in introduction he stated in a quite pretentious manner, "Vernon Dursely, Grunnings plant manager. This is my wife and son, Petunia and Dudley." The names were accompanied by grand gestures with the left flipper, as if the other two at the table were royalty and Larson should be honored to be in their presence. Biting back an insult, Larson braced himself and grasped the proffered hand, "Larson Miles, boy genius and street rat," applying just the right amount of pressure in the right places so that his hand seemed far stronger than it was. Vernon winced and pulled his right hand away with a jerk, "Well, Larson, are you hungry? Dudley is still eating and I would be happy to get you whatever you would like." the rotund man asked in an attempt to cover his abrupt termination of the handshake. Larson shook his head in response, spotting a glare from the woman that appeared to be directed at his hair. "Na, had a decent meal on the plane a few hours ago, I'm good for now, 'preciate the offer though." came the reply, "I'll just hop on the web while your boy finishes. Need to let friends at home know that I landed anyway." Vernon simply nodded and resumed his seat next to his wife who instantly began whispering in his ear. Larson slid his bag under his seat as he took the booth next to the three, glancing at Harry who was still standing to the side, head down and eyes on the floor. Hmmm, this may prove to be an interesting day after all. Larson thought, quickly pulling his phone out, inserting the ear-buds and activating the listening feature he had installed. Just like that it sounded as if Petunia was talking in his ear. "...of the boy, he holds himself like a man twice his age, his clothes are worn, but of high quality and his hair is a mess, worse than the freak's. His introduction is strange as well. Street rat? What does he mean by that? Boy genius is obvious he managed to get into the Oxford exchange program at his age, he must be brilliant, I do hope it rubs off on Dudders, his grades could use the boost. I just hope that the freak doesn't mess this up." "We can finish this discussion at home Pet, I don't wish him to overhear and get the wrong impression." came the response and a louder discussion about drills, contracts and parliament commenced.

Flicking his phone to actual music, Larson pulled his thin silver laptop up and proceeded to connect to the local Wi-Fi. He pulled up his IRC client and sent a message to his allies back in the States 'Made touchdown in London, will be shipping some product out within the week. Has Grunnings' financial data been posted to dBox yet? Updates otherwise.' Swapping over to Dropbox, he pulled up an inventory sheet and tallied up his recent acquires, in the nearly 8k range. Now to see if I can't ruffle a few feathers, Larson decided, not having missed the animosity directed at Harry by the adults. "You can take a seat Harry, I swear I don't bite," Larson told the younger boy without so much a glance up from the screen. The sudden silence was oppressive as Harry, unused to being called by name, looked frantically between Larson and his aunt and uncle. Vernon's face was quickly gaining a purple hue and Petunia looked like Larson had spouted an extra appendage. Larson noticed the glares Harry was receiving from the adults and the only sound was of Dudley continued to fill his face with food. In a quiet voice, after several more minutes of silence, in which Larson was sure Vernon would have an aneurysm, Harry replied, "I'm fine standing Larson," his voice timid and quiet. Larson's reply was joking, "Do I really smell that bad from the plane?" The shocked look on Harry's was priceless, but before he could respond, Dudley interjected, "Why would you want the freak sitting with you, all he does is ruin things?" Petunia hid her face in her hands and Larson was positive that Vernon had to have at least one burst blood vessel by the color of his face. Miles just quirked his eyebrow, about to respond but was cut off by Vernon dragging himself up with a loud, "We had best be getting on, I'm sure Larson wants to get some rest from his trip" Shutting his laptop with a snap, he could tell he would get no further at the moment and gathered up his stuff. Slinging the duffel over his shoulder, he waited for the quartet to lead the way out to the car. While Petunia made a fuss over cleaning Dudley up, Harry quickly gathered up the remains of the meal and deposited it in the bin, the watchful glare from Vernon did not go unnoticed by Larson.

The trip to the car was tense, but silent, as Vernon pushed his way through the crowd, earning many glares and sounds of protest along the way. Half an hour later the quintet were ensconced in the plush interior of the Dursely's SUV, ready to make the half hour drive back to Privit Drive. Larson had taken the opportunity entering the vehicle had presented to stir the hive a bit more by clambering in through the back after his bag and flopping down on the third row. Dudley's face upon realizing he would have to sit next to his cousin was priceless and the truncated fit he had started to throw over it had only been quieted by Petunia's assurances that 'Mummy'll make it up to you Duddykins' Vernon had looked fit to burst and had slammed his door shut as he got behind the wheel, his anger management issues on full display. They hadn't even exited the parking lot and Dudley had started in on his cousin, repeatedly flicking his ear, well, at least until his hand was caught in mid-flick in a rather painful grip. "I highly doubt your cousin enjoys that, you should stop before something unpleasant happens," with a squeeze of the wrist for emphasis. Released, Dudley shrank back against the door, confusion writ plain across his face. Satisfied that the issue was resolved, for the moment at least, Larson lay back and brought his music back up, ready to wait out the trip to Little Whinging.

In an old castle in the north of Scotland, at the top of a tower, an old tarnished silver artifact began to whine, but the white bearded man sitting behind the desk it sat upon paid it no mind. The alarm had sounded many times in the last nine years, it would ring for a few minutes, then go silent again. 30 minutes had been the longest it had rang, while its target had been suck waiting in a mall for the woman. A long thin stick was waved and the whine became muffled as the man returned his attention to the preparations for the coming school year.

Dudley Dursely was at that moment, flummoxed, not that he knew the word or its meaning, being a relatively simple 10 year old boy with no drive to learn, after all, his father always got what he wanted without the need for smarts. What had him in the state he was in was the boy currently laid across the seat behind himself. Not only did he show an interest in his freak cousin, the new boy had actually threatened him, at least Dudley thought he had, he wasn't very good a understanding subtleties. Being the leader of the local bullies, being threatened was a novel experience for him, an experience he decided he most definitely didn't like. With that thought in mind, Dudley decided that the new kid would have to be put in his place, but that would have to wait till his parents were not around. He knew they wanted to make a good impression on the boy and would not hesitate to put a stop to Dudley's actions. Satisfied with his intended course of action, he reached into the seat pocket and pulled out his DS. And frowned. The new DSi had just released and he didn't have it yet. He was all ready to start another fit when he remembered that his mum had promised him something to make up for having to sit next to his freak cousin, perhaps he could get the new system out of her for that. With a grin on his face Dudley went back to playing his game.

Harry Potter was also flummoxed, though he did know the word and its meaning, despite the constant doubt of his intelligence cast by his relatives. Again, like Dudley beside him, the boy on the back seat was the cause of his state, for nearly similar reasons. Larson had not only taken an interest in a freak like himself, but had actually protected him from Dudley, not only that, but had threatened his cousin. Harry had never seen anyone do that, and while he appreciated the gesture, he was sure it would just make it worse in the end, both for himself and Larson. He resolved to tell Larson that he was fine and to just leave things lie. Little did Harry know that not only would Larson not do so, but that his entire existence was about to change.

The Dursely's SUV slid smoothly into the carport of 4 Privit Drive just over 35 minutes later, Dudley the first one out, followed by his parents and his cousin, Larson the last one as he had to wait for Harry to disengage the seat to allow him out. "Boy! Help Miles with with his luggage!" Vernon shouted as he unlocked the door and disappeared inside. Moving around the back, Harry popped open the rear hatch and started to heave the duffel bag out, only to have it almost crash to the ground, with him underneath, when he was caught by Miles. "Careful there Harry, don't want you getting hurt." Snagging the bag from above, he swung the hatch closed and headed for the door. "Coming Harry? Or are you going to just stand there again?" With a start, Harry made his way after Miles, his mind whirling as he did.

In the castle tower in Scotland, another alarm began to go off, and this one did cause a bit of concern, as it meant an unauthorized magical had crossed the ward boundaries at Privit Drive. It should have been impossible, unless for some reason the Durselys had invited them in, which, with their distaste for magic, should not have happened! The old man bustled quickly across the room to see if he could garner any further information before he went in person to investigate. When none was forthcoming, he quickly spun on his heel and disappeared.