'Son.' Said a tall; strong looking man. 'I must speak with you privately.'

A young boy no older than ten years looked up at the man, slightly confused. 'Yes father. I will be with you shortly I've almost mastered atronach summoning.'

The man smiled. 'Yes and you are doing so faster than I thought possible but this more important. Come to my study now please.'

The boy stopped what he was doing and followed his father through an ornate corridor lined with gold and paintings of past family members. All of the people in those paintings came from a different time and place; some came from Alba and were supposed to have learnt from lord Merlin himself; others were sharmans of ancient Africa, war mages of England, summoners from Poland, alchemists from France and many more but none of that mattered to the young boy at the moment because his father never stopped him from training because he was to be like his father, an enforcer of the Os titulares de Maxia; or Holders of Magic; in English.

The boy was trained to be an enforcer from the moment of his birth and he had reached a level of skill where he could be called upon for minor missions to keep the Maxia's existence hidden from both wizards and non-magicals alike. The boy had been on one such mission before but he could tell, despite his inexperience, that his father was going to tell him about another mission that would have to undertake.

As the two reached the father's study the boy asked if he was going on another mission. His father ushered him quickly into the study, followed him in and shut and magically locked the door. He had serious look his face and his was flat when he spoke.
'Son, one of our own has turned against us and gone into hiding with his equally treacherous family in the word of wizards.' He said. 'And our family is to lead the search for them.'

'Why do I have to be there father? I'm still young.' The boy asked. 'Who are we after? Who betrayed us?'

His father sighed. 'It was Eustace. Another enforcer, I worked with him once or twice on a few smaller cases but I never really knew him. You know his son, remember Sethus? You trained with him until recently.'

The boy's memory clicked. 'You mean good sir Eustace? Why would he turn on us and the Maxia people?' It was then that the boy noticed that something important was missing from events unfolding in front of him. 'Does this have something to with mother not being here? You two normally come home from work together, so where is she?'

His father breathed in sharply and wiped his eyes. 'That's not important right now, but your part in the mission is.' His voice wobbled as he spoke. 'We are to track Eustace and his family down and bring them to justice and we have leads on where to find them. In Great Brittan before you ask, so yes; you get your dream, you get to visit the mother land; you're going to live there too, in a wizarding school called Hogwarts, it's in the Scottish country-side; so we need to pack and be ready to leave by tomorrow night. I will also be over-seeing your training until you go to Hogwarts as school terms in Great Brittan are different to here. Now go get packing!'

The boy left the room quickly, using his own magic to unlock the door and close it behind him. As he walked down corridor he could have sworn he heard his father start crying.

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A young Harry Potter woke up in the same cupboard he'd been waking up in for the past 10 years but this year he felt would be different. As he slowly opened his eyes to if surroundings had magically changed, he realised he was still stuck in that dingy; old; dark; single globed; cramped space. Harry stayed lying down, disappointed but not surprised.

Harry sighed, slowly getting into gear to get dressed, as it was the one day he had to be ready for… Dudley's birthday. The moment Harry rolled out of bed, he could hear his fat, rude and disgusting cousin, Dudley Dursley, stomping down the stairs and he could hear his pretentious, torturous aunt Petunia's feet clicking up the hall way to his cupboard.

'Good morning Duddykins!' Aunt Petunia called as she saw her favourite. 'Are you all ready for big, special day?'

'Yes mummy! Where are my presents? When are we going? Can beat him again?' Dudley jabbered excitedly. 'When is Piers coming? Can I hit him again… Harry I mean?'

Harry was still getting dressed as this conversation was going on, he was used to this sort of abuse and lacklustre regard for his wellbeing, he didn't like it, but he was used to it. So he continued putting his day clothes that consisted of: a far oversized checked shirt, jeans; with belt to keep them on, a pair of old shoes that were falling apart and tattered pair of black socks, all of them used to be Dudley's before they were his. This would make the normal ten year old sick to the core; but not Harry, he put up with the Dursley's constant disregard for Harry's wellbeing and happiness from the moment he arrived at their house, on Number Four Privet Drive; in Sussex; Great Britain.

He had no idea how he'd got there, to the Dursley's, and he despised the people who left him to the unrelenting hell of such a family, even though he had no idea who they were and where they might be.

Harry was broken from his depressing musings because aunt Petunia was rapping her knuckles against the door to the cupboard. 'Up boy, get you idiot boy, or I'll send Dudley in to hurry you up!' By "hurry you up" she meant that Dudley would be given free-reign over Harry's wellbeing or lack-there-of, including a smashing or thirty to get him 'moving'.

'I'll be out shortly, aunt Petunia.' Harry said dryly. 'I just need to put my shoes on.' Which was the truth but he knew that his aunt would care, so he just went about it at his own pace. He could hear his aunt giving Dudley the 'pep talk' on how not to treat him with any respect or care what-so-ever. And as the door-handle to his cupboard turned, Harry stood and opened it before his aunt could, so that she would see him dressed and ready to suffer for the day.

'You were quick at that.' She snarled. 'Now get out and into the kitchen! There is bacon that needs frying and eggs that need poaching! Move it!' She grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and threw him down the plain white corridor the lead to his own version of 'Hell's Kitchen'.

As Harry stumbled into the kitchen he headed straight for the cupboards next to the stove, where the pans and oil were kept, only to find the pans on the stove and the oil already heating up; with the bacon and eggs next to the stove; ready to be cooked.

'That's very unusual,' Harry thought to himself as he checked the pan's heat. 'Maybe today will be different from the rest.'

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Author's notes: Hey, fellow writers! I am proud to say that this my first fan fiction and I hope you enjoy it! I just want you all to be clear on a few things though, if I may, firstly: I am a student in my final years of secondary school, so do not expect a regular chapter up-date.
secondly: The O/C that is always referred to as "the boy" or "son" does have a name, as does his father, but for character building reasons I won't be revealing them just yet.

And thirdly: Feedback, corrections and plot holes that you guys point out will ALWAYS be appreciated! Enjoy.