Okay here's the dealio, this is a 7 part thingy, each chapter is the beginning chapter of a story and you lucky people who review, vote and tell me which story you want continued. The one I get the most votes for, becomes the next fic. And if anyone reading this has read A Girl's Shape, don't worry none, I'm gonna add another chapter . . . just as soon as I finish it . . . waah writing Harry and Draco out right is hard! So yah, tell me which one you want continued and the one with the most votes gets continued. And if you like it check out my other fics, I have a bunch. And to clear up any confusion since there are seven of these they're listed by days of the week, so this is the first chapter, its Sunday. However the story title is "My Baby Boy".

Once again . . . sigh . . . I do not own Harry Potter or anything it is affiliated with (smiles brightly) except for the plot and made up characters in this story! Yay me!

Chapter 1 My Baby Boy

They found the boy hiding behind a trashcan in a neighbor's yard. He was small, skinny; I pegged him at not more than 7. He had a messy mop of black hair and huge green eyes, hidden behind thick, black-rimmed glasses.

"Hullo," I said, kneeling down beside him in the dirt. "I'm Detective James and this is my partner, Detective McDaniel. What's your name?"

"Harry, Harry Potter," he whispered and looked up at me with those big eyes. I was a goner.

"So, Harry, can you tell us where you live so we can take you home?" Asked Ian, my partner.

It was the wrong question. Harry started shaking and he shook his head violently. " No! You can't take me back!" His voice dropped back to a whisper again. "He'll lock me away forever. He'll be so mad," He looked around furtively.

Ian and I shared a look. We'd seen similar cases before; there are a lot of sick bastards out there. "Okay Harry, we won't tell. Will you come with us? We'll getcha' something to eat," I cajoled.

Harry looked at me suspiciously before sighing and saying, "Ok." We got into the car and drove back to the precinct.

"So, Harry, how old are you?" I asked him as we munched on Chinese takeout.

"I'm 9, Mz. James." Nine! I had him at 2 years younger! I let out a breath in shock.

"What grade are you in?"

"I'm in 4th grade. My teacher's extremely nice and sympathetic."

"Big words, little man! Betcha' get good grades."

"Actually," he paused and clamped his mouth shut. I nodded encouragingly. He gave a little sigh. "I . . . get C's. If I . . . attain a . . . better grade than Dudley . . . I get locked in my . . . cupboard," he told me haltingly.

"Your cupboard?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes, it's my room, similar to Dudley's, only he has 2 and they are much larger."

"Whose Dudley?"

"My cousin, my aunt says he looks like an angel, but I think he looks more like . . ." he lowered his voice and motioned for me to turn my ear toward him. " . . . A pig in a wig," he finished.

I snorted. I liked this kid. Damn the people he lived with.

"Whom do you live with?"

"My Uncle Vernon, my Aunt Petunia, and my Cousin Dudley. Why?" he grew panicked. "You're not going to send me back are you?"

"No, I'm not, it's ok. I'm going to try my best to make sure that doesn't happen. But to do that I'm going to need you to go to the doctor, ok? He's inside this building."

Harry looked at me. "Really? I haven't been to a doctor since kindergarten!"

Merde! Kindergarten! "Ok, well, you'll go with my partner, Ian. Remember him?" At his nod I continued. "While you're getting your checkup I'll be here doing some work. Is there something you'd like to do when you come back? I think we have some Batman Comics.

"That sounds nice, Mz. James."

"Good, I'll see you in a little while then Harry." I smiled, ruffled his hair, and frowned when I noticed him flinch.

While Harry was getting his first checkup in 4 years I checked up on his family. They didn't have any criminal records, however, there had been several calls from neighbors and teachers either complaining about loud yelling and disturbances or with concerns for Harry.

When I got back the results from the checkup I nearly broke my coffee mug. I like that mug. Not only did he weigh 55 lbs and was just barely topping 4 feet, Harry had bruises and scabs, scars from burns as well as cuts, not to mention a dislocated shoulder and as sloppily healed broken arm.

Within the next week it was decided that Harry was free to go into the system. However, the system wasn't free to take Harry. Then I made the decision that would change my life. "I'll take him."

There had been no reason not to. My dog was a husky, extremely child friendly, Harry wasn't allergic, I lived in a fairly well sized apartment, I was only 33, with a grandfather in the Bronx. So, that day Harry came home with me. And we had a wonderful 2 years before I got the hugest fucking surprise in my life.

"What?!" I exploded at the woman who sat across the desk from Harry and myself. "So let me get this straight: my son is actually an insanely famous wizard, who is known for defeating this crazy murderer guy, who nobody calls by his real name 'cause everyone's till too afraid."

"In not so few words, yes," she said. I just sat there, dumbfounded, as Harry asked questions.

So, Harry went to Le Fey's, about 3 blocks from where we lived actually. Harry thrived. He learned things like Transfiguration—he told me that, hopefully, he could become an animagus in a few years, and when I asked him what that was, he said that was someone who could turn into a specific animal at will. Jesus Christ! He made friends and learned a game on broomsticks. Got an owl and a snake, with whom, incidentally, he could speak. Again, Jesus Christ! He got his eyebrow pierced and a wore a dragon hide jacket. He's 16 now, but he's still my baby. And I worry about him, especially now that that Dumbledore man has come.

I don't trust him; not one bit. I had a supervisor like him once: fucking twinkling eyes and an "I-Know-What's-Best-For–You" attitude. I don't trust him with my baby. Not at all!

"Mom, chill, it'll be fine. Don't worry so much," Harry's trying to calm me down. As if. I maybe a muggle, but I'm not stupid. That-that wizard is coming to take us to mother fucking England, just so he can show us his shitty as castle of a prep school. The old man said he was a friend of Harry's parents. And even though he won't say so, I know Harry wants to hear about them. Who wouldn't? But I'm scared. That old man's dangerous. Everything is quiet here; nobody really cares that Harry's famous; I mean Voldemort never even attacked America. But over there, that's where it all happened ad it's happening again. Harry doesn't think I read those wizarding newspapers, but I do. I know what's happening.

Voldemort's back, Death Eater attacks everywhere, people disappearing. He could die over there. I don't want to lose him, not my baby.

"Mom, please, don't worry, I don't even know if I'll go. And if I do, I'll be fine. Hogwarts is supposed to be really safe and you know I can protect myself."

"I know baby, I know. You're a good boy." Dear God, I was tearing up. What a sap. "I just worry. You're just a baby, my baby." He smiled and gave me a hug.

I let go and look up at him. Damn, he's too tall. "I'll miss you, don't forget about your old mother."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll write home everyday."

"Okay baby, I love you."

"Love you to mom," and he turned and apparated away for his first day of his 7th year at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry, A whole continent away.

Alrighty, just to clarify if not everybody got it, ehem:

When Harry was 9 the Dursleys and Harry moved to New York

I know there's a whole lot more to getting adopted and stuff then I mentioned, but . . . I'm lazy, and that was just part of setting the stage for what was going to happen . . . so please, don't bother me about it.

I made Le Fey's up, you know the 'cause Morgan Le Fey and all that . . . so . . . yah.

And for nicety's sake, when Harry and Detective James hug the first time, it's right before they take the portkey to Hogwarts and when she lets him go its um . . . August 31st I guess and Harry's gonna go to Hogwarts for his last year of school.

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