Decisions which have to be made

Chapter 1 - Carl Heinze

1 November 1981

"Vernon!" Petunia Dursley screeched.

"What is it, dear?" her husband, Vernon Dursley, asked, stepping beside her.

Petunia pointed at the doormat. On it lay a bundle.

"Who on earth abandoned their child on our doormat?" Vernon roared furiously as he figured out what in the bundle was.

"There is a letter, I think," Petunia said, pointing at an envelope on top of the baby.

Vernon grabbed the envelope and tore it open. He began to read. But suddenly he became pale and dropped the letter.

"Vernon...?" Petunia asked worried, touching her husband's arm. "What is it?"

"I'll drive this freak to the nearest children's home!" Vernon said hastily, grabbing his car keys. This is your sister's brat!"

"What!?" his wife shrieked.

"Everything will be fine, dear," Vernon said reassuringly. He took the bundle and jogged to his car. Moments later Petunia saw him drive away into the distance.

*

*

8 Years later

Harry Potter wasn't like anyone else. He was different. he never played with the other children in St. Martha's Children's Home. He never talked to them. All he ever did was read. Because of that he didn't have any friends. Not that he cared. He loved to read. Through reading books he learned, and he liked learning more than the other children did.

New children came to St. Martha's about every month. Usually only one child, but sometimes two or even three. Every other week some kind of couple would come, looking for a child or two to adopt. No one had ever considered adopting Harry though. For them he was too normal. These couples wanted a talented child, and if Harry was something then not talented. He wasn't good at art, or music, sport or singing. However he was intelligent, and for himself it counted more than anything else. Why be talented if you could be intelligent, meaning that you'd get good grades, better chances at colleges and universities and earn more money once you were old enough?

So one day in April Harry was sitting in his room, doing his English homework: a few exercises on punctuation and capital letters.

"Hi, Harry," Kristen, one of the home parents, said, opening the door to his room. "We just got a new boy and thought maybe he could be your room mate. How about that?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't particularly like other kids, but why not?

Kristen stepped away from the door. A thirteen-year-old boy entered, carrying two middle-seized suitcases filled with his belongings.

Harry's room wasn't very large. It had two desks, wardrobes, and one bunk bed. Harry slept in the bottom bed of the bunk bed, used the wardrobe nearest to it and the desk nearest to the single window opposite the door. He never had a room mate before, so the other things had never been used before.

The other boy left the suitcases in the middle of the room and went over to where Harry sat.

"Hello, I'm Carl," he said. "Carl Heinze."

"Harry Potter," Harry answered, somehow feeling uneasy.

"What ya doing?"

"English homework."

"Punctuation and capital letters?" Carl asked with raised eyebrows.

"It is pretty boring," Harry confessed. "But what can you do against it?"

"Well, if you finished maybe we can talk a bit." Carl shrugged. "After all we'll be living in the same room."

"I'm nearly finished anyway," Harry replied quickly, putting his pen down. This Carl seemed pretty friendly, and, who knows, maybe they could become friends.

"So you were the son of the Prime Minister!?"

"He only was my foster dad, and after a week he gave me back to a children's home saying that I'm a nuisance and troublemaker," Carl laughed. "Had been great fun though."

"I can imagine that."

Carl and Harry had talked the whole afternoon, had skipped supper, been told off for it and were now in their beds talking about their past.

"What 'bout you?"

"Well, I grew up in this dump."

"Dump? Bit of a harsh word, eh?"

Harry shrugged. "it's true," he said. "living here makes you wish you could live on the streets or someplace else. At least there you can do what you want."

Carl stayed silent for a few moments, then he spoke.

"Harry," he said, looking up st the ceiling. "How would you like going away from here?"

"I'd love to, but who on earth is going to adopt me? No one wants me or even likes me," Harry responded bitterly. "Otherwise I'd have been out of here a long time ago."

"You're a good friend."

"How do you know? We only know each other for a few hours."

"you're right, but if I see a good and loyal friend then I know it instantly."

"..."

Carl stayed silent too.

"Carl?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever wonder what your parents are doing right now? I sometimes do. My parents died in a car crash shortly after I'd been born, so I never knew them. I wonder how it would be living with them..." Harry trailed off in thought.

Carl thought before he answered. "Probably fighting with each other. They never took care of me, that's why I ended up in a home." He knew that his parents couldn't be fighting right now, but Harry wasn't allowed to know the truth. The truth was that Carl's parents had died four years ago, and that Heinze wasn't Carl's real name.