Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, yadda yadda yadda… Enjoy!

Chapter 1: First Contact

'Damn,' thought Harry wearily as he felt the first drops of what promised to be a brutal thunderstorm. He finished staking the additional guy lines of his tent, triple-checking his knots as he went. It wouldn't be fun if one or more of them let loose and allowed the already quickening winds to toss the tent around with him in it. He shoved his knapsack, sleeping bag, and pellet rifle into the tent and crawled in, zipping the door shut behind him. As he unrolled the sleeping bag he heard a low rumble and crack of thunder, followed by the pounding tattoo of rain against the fabric of the tent. The tent began to shudder and quake in the gusting winds, made even more unpredictable by the trees of the forest that surrounded him. He pulled four heavy cast-iron blocks from his knapsack and put one in each corner of the tent. 'That ought to keep the tent from going anywhere,' he thought, pulling a battery powered lantern and a pair of worn, frayed pajamas out of his knapsack. He switched on the light and changed out of his battered fatigues. He rummaged through the knapsack and took out a notebook and pencil before climbing into his sleeping bag. He had been keeping a journal for a little over two years now, ever since he ran away from the Dursley's shortly before his ninth birthday. He lay on his stomach and opened the nearly full notebook and began to record a new entry.

June 21st, 1991

Made camp in a forest in Scotland. Barely got the tent pitched before a thunderstorm started. The winds are really hammering at the tent. I'm glad I was able to scavenge some iron blocks to weigh down the corners of the tent, even if they do add an extra forty pounds to my load. It's hard to believe that I've been living on my own in the woods for exactly two years today. I'm sure the Dursley's are not only glad I'm gone; they're probably hoping that I'm either dead or in prison by now. I spotted a cave up in the mountains, but the storm blew up before I could get there. It didn't look too far off; I should be able to reach it in a few hours, once the storm passes. I hope it's your usual summer thunderstorm and that it breaks before morning.

Harry flipped the journal closed and stuffed it back in his knapsack. He yawned and stretched sleepily before turning off the lantern and curling up in his sleeping bag. He was tired enough that he fell asleep quickly despite the howling wind and pounding rain, punctuated by the rumbles and cracks of thunder both near and far.

Harry awoke to the sound of near silence. The storm had passed and the only sounds he could hear were the sounds of birds singing and a soft *drip, drip, drip* as rainwater dripped off the trees around him. The tent fabric was thick enough and opaque enough to completely block out sunlight, so Harry unzipped the tent flap and poked his head outside. Sure enough, the storm had indeed passed, but Harry noticed that several nearby trees had had at least one or more limbs broken off, and several of them had landed dangerously close to his tent. One of the larger ones had in fact landed on a pair of guy lines, snapping them. He quickly changed back into his fatigues and packed up his things, hauling them out behind him. He untangled the branch from the broken guy lines before breaking down and packing up the tent. When he finished, he pulled a battered pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. 'Only 10:30, I should have no trouble finding that cave before noon.' Harry gazed in the direction he had seen the cave the day before, squinting slightly in the bright morning sun. His eagle-eyed gaze caught sight of it easily; a black shadow nestled beneath a rocky spur. He hoisted the knapsack with the tent and sleeping bag lashed to it onto his back, grabbed his pellet rifle, and started off toward the mountains.

After walking for about an hour, Harry came across a tidy country lane. He noticed that it was going in roughly the direction of the cave, so he decided to follow the lane for a while. 'Better than picking my way over roots and fallen tree limbs,' he thought to himself. He'd been walking for about another hour or so when he saw a small, old-fashioned looking village in the distance. "I don't think they'd take too kindly to an armed stranger just strolling into their village. Visibly armed, that is. When I get a bit closer, I'll find someplace to stash my rifle where I can find it again, and I'll tie the Bowie knife and its sheath to my forearm." If living in the woods for the past two years had taught Harry anything, it was to never go into unfamiliar territory without a way to defend yourself, and this village wasn't on any of the maps he had managed to scavenge. If that didn't make this unfamiliar territory, then Harry didn't know what did. After making sure the sheath was securely tied to his forearm, with the knife snug in the sheath, he continued on the lane until he was about a kilometer from the village. He ducked into the trees, looking for a safe place to stash his pellet rifle. Harry hated to have to part with it, because even though he couldn't kill anything with it besides squirrels, birds, and other small game, he had become a crack shot with it and could take out a moving squirrel with one shot at ten meters. He stashed it in a hollow tree trunk about five meters from the edge of the road. He barely reached the road again when he heard a piteous mewling. He looked around and spotted a tiny fox kit, its paw trapped under a fallen tree limb. He unslung his pack and gently lifted the branch off the kit's paw. At first he wondered why the kit didn't immediately run off, but saw that the paw was covered in blood. Quickly rummaging through his pack he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton swabs, and a pair of cloth bandages. Kneeling down next to the kit, he uncapped the alcohol and gently swabbed away the blood. He soon discovered that the kit had no broken bones, just some rather deep lacerations on its paw that he expertly bound with the bandages. When he finished, the kit gave a soft yip and gently nipped Harry's finger, just barely hard enough to draw a tiny amount of blood. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used the rubbing alcohol to clean the blood from his hand. Looking at the spot where the kit had nipped him, Harry was shocked to see that the wound had already completely healed, leaving the barest ghost of a scar on his finger. 'At least no one can see this one, unless they're examining my hand, unlike the ones those fat pigs gave me,' Harry thought bitterly. He felt something nudge against his leg. Looking down, he saw the kit nuzzling its head against his leg and batting at his laces with its bandaged paw.

"Persistent little bugger, aren't you? Well, I suppose I could use some company." Harry stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and replaced the bottle of alcohol in his pack. He hoisted the pack onto his shoulders and moved his knife back to his belt. He gently picked up the kit, cradling it in his arms. He noticed a jagged streak of black on the top of the kit's head that was a mirror image of the scar that marred his own forehead. "I think I'll call you Shadow." The kit's only response was to nuzzle its nose into Harry's arm. "You like that don't you? Good, let's go, little one," he said as he started towards the village.

He approached a stile that appeared to mark the boundary of the village. As he passed it, the kit gave a soft yip as Harry felt a brief tingle wash over his skin. "That felt weird." Shrugging, he continued down the road into the village. He walked into what appeared to be the heart of the village, as both sides of the road were lined with shops. He also noticed a number of dingier, seedier looking establishments down some of the side roads, as well as some rather plain looking wooden cottages. The street was filled with mostly teenagers, all of whom appeared to be at least a few years older than he was. Harry noticed that with the exception of a few infants in their mother's arms, everyone looked like they were older than him. Even more remarkable was the fact that most of the adults, and even some of the teens, were wearing robes of some sort, mostly black but some were the most lurid colors Harry had ever seen. Passing a pub whose sign identified it as The Three Broomsticks, Harry saw a pair of boys having a rather heated argument. One had red hair and a pale freckled face and was wearing blue jeans with a black knit jumper with a large red letter C on the front. The other had dark hair, narrow, flinty eyes and was dressed in black robes with silver and green trim. He also appeared to be several inches taller than the redhead, despite looking several years younger. Harry set his pack down and began to check the bandages on his kit's paw and listened to the boys' argument.

"I don't care what you think, Flint! No one from Gryffindor was anywhere near the dungeons last night. Professor Snape even convinced the Headmaster to question all of us under Veritaserum! I'm going to Professor Dumbledore and informing him that you are continuing to harass me and my housemates!" The redhead finished his tirade at the taller boy. He spun around and began to walk away. But Harry could tell that the younger boy wasn't willing to give up the argument.

"Not so fast, Weasley!" the boy shouted, pulling a wooden stick from his pocket and pointing it at the redhead's back. "Stupefy!"

Harry watched as a jet of red light shot from the stick. He didn't know why or how, but he had a sinking feeling that the red light striking the redhead would not be a good thing. He dove at the redhead, trying to tackle him. He managed to knock him out of the way despite the boy's stocky build, but the jet of light caught Harry in the back instead, rendering him unconscious.

*BREAK*

Charlie Weasley was not having a good day. Someone had jinxed the corridor leading to the dungeons last night to change the Slytherins' robes into red leotards with gold tutus and naturally the snakes assumed it was someone from Gryffindor. At first, he had thought that maybe it was his younger brothers, Fred and George, pulling one of their usual pranks. All the evidence pointed to the culprit being a Gryffindor, so the head snake himself, Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin house, convinced Headmaster Dumbledore to question every member of Gryffindor house. That would have been degrading enough, but Snape also convinced him to use truth potion! Good thing O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were over or McGonagall would have had kittens, though she was relieved to learn that it wasn't one of her Gryffindors who was responsible. This was also the last Hogsmeade weekend before the end of term and he was looking forward to a Butterbeer and one of Madame Rosmerta's special shepherd's pies as a personal reward for finishing his N.E.W.T.s and getting that job as a dragon handler in Romania he wanted, and here was this snake continuing to harass him about it.

"I still think your brothers were the ones that jinxed the corridor," said Marcus Flint.

"I don't care what you think, Flint! No one from Gryffindor was anywhere near the dungeons last night. Professor Snape even convinced the Headmaster to question all of us under Veritaserum! I'm going to Professor Dumbledore and informing him that you are continuing to harass me and my housemates!" Charlie turned around and started toward the Three Broomsticks, and was nearly to the door when he heard Flint's voice from behind him.

"Not so fast, Weasley!" yelled Flint. "Stupefy!

Charlie heard Flint yell behind him and immediately drew his wand, but before he could turn around he felt someone slam into him, knocking him down. The stunner missed him by bare inches, but he saw it strike the person who had knocked him out of its path. Flint tried to run away, but Charlie flicked his wand saying, "Incarcerous!" and black ropes erupted from the end and wrapped themselves around Flint.

"Let me go! My father will have you hauled up in front…" Flint's words cut off, though his mouth kept moving as Charlie flicked his wand again, wordlessly silencing the obnoxious Slytherin.

"You're the one who attacked me," snarled Charlie. "But I'm going to be generous and not take it to the Ministry, even though you hit an innocent person who tried to keep me from being hit. He looked down at Harry's unconscious form. 'He's dressed like a Muggle, but he can't be. He wouldn't have been able to get into the village. He looks like a first year, but if he is he *shouldn't* be in Hogsmeade.' He grabbed Harry's pack and, with a double flick of his wand, levitated Flint and Harry, dislodging the kit, which had climbed onto Harry's chest. He saw the kit tumble off and immediately try to climb back on. Charlie saw that the kit's forepaw was bandaged, but every time he tried to pick it up the kit would wriggle and squirm out of his arms and try to climb onto Harry. "You want to stay near him don't you? I bet he was the one who bandaged your paw wasn't he?" The kit's only response was to continue trying to climb up on Harry's chest. "Okay, you win." Instead of trying to pick the kit up, Charlie put his hands between them like a set of steps so it could climb up. He pushed open the door and guided them into the Three Broomsticks, being careful not to dislodge the kit. He caught Rosmerta's attention and waved her over.

"What happened, Charlie?"

"Flint tried to attack me outside, and this young man knocked me out of the way, but got hit with the stunner instead. Could you please Floo Professor Dumbledore for me? As you can see, the boy is dressed like a Muggle, but he can't be, he wouldn't have found the village. And he looks old enough to be a first year, but I don't remember seeing him at the Sorting."

"Take them upstairs and I will Floo Albus for you," replied Rosmerta.

Charlie levitated Harry and Flint up the stairs to an unused room. He left Flint lying on the floor, his mouth moving wordlessly, but conjured a cot and levitated Harry onto it. He slumped into a chair and waited. About five minutes later, he heard Professor Dumbledore's voice behind him.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Weasley?"

"Flint stopped me outside and started going on about that prank someone pulled on the Slytherins this morning. Despite you questioning all of Gryffindor house about it, even going so far as to use Veritaserum, he still seems to think that a Gryffindor is responsible. Two Gryffindors in particular. Fred and George," he added at Dumbledore's questioning look. "I told him that I was going to report him for harassing me, but he chose to try to stun me from behind." He gestured to the cot Harry was laying on. "This young man tackled me and knocked me out of the way, but was hit by the stunner himself."

Dumbledore looked down and gasped. 'Is this Harry?' Many questions ran through his mind, but Albus pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. "Mr. Flint shall receive a detention, tonight, my office, seven o'clock. Also fifty points shall be taken from Slytherin for Mr. Flint's cowardly actions. Mr. Weasley, please lift your spell from Mr. Flint." Charlie waved his wand and the ropes vanished. "Mr. Flint, return to the castle. Your Hogsmeade privileges are suspended for the remainder of the term."

"Thank you, Professor," said Charlie, once Flint was out of the room. "But what about him?" he asked, pointing at Harry. "He's dressed like a Muggle, but he can't be, can he? How else could he have gotten past the Muggle-repelling wards? And then there's this kit. It just won't allow itself to be separated from him."

Dumbledore brushed aside Harry's bangs from his forehead, revealing a lightning bolt scar. "It is him," he whispered softly. He ignored Charlie's questions, taking in Harry's appearance. 'He is the spitting image of James, except his hair is the same shade of red that Lily's was. But how did he get here?' "Enervate," he said, pointing his wand at Harry. Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes. 'And his eyes are the same enchanting green,' Dumbledore thought, smiling.

Harry sat up with a start, knocking Shadow to the floor. Shadow looked up at Harry and snarled softly. "Sorry, Shadow," he said leaning over to pick up the kit. He looked warily at Dumbledore. "Who are you?"

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Harry"

Harry started feeling a bit nervous. 'How does this guy know my name,' he thought. He saw the red haired boy he tackled earlier. "What's going on? How do you know my name?" He looked at the red haired boy and asked, "Sorry about tackling you. I just had this strange feeling that you getting hit by that red light would not have been a good thing." He looked back at Dumbledore. "Feel free to jump in at any time."

"Certainly," replied Dumbledore, smiling serenely. "But first I believe some introductions are in order. "Harry James Potter, may I introduce you to the young man you were protecting, Charlie Weasley. Charlie, this is Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter?" exclaimed Charlie, looking from Harry to Dumbledore and back.

That's my name, but what's all this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry, what did your aunt and uncle tell you about your parents? About how they died?" he asked softly.

"Those two arseholes that claimed to be my family?" Harry snorted. "They said that they got saddled with me because Petunia was my mum's sister. They said my parents were, and I quote, 'A pair of unemployed, drunken freaks who decided to get themselves killed in a car crash.' They used me like I was their personal houseboy and if my work wasn't up to their standards; Vernon would use his belt like a whip on my back. Dudley and his friends' favorite game was called Harry Hunting. They got careless when they took Dudley out to dinner for his birthday two years ago and forgot to lock my cupboard. I got out and ransacked Dudley's stash of stuff he had bullied out of other kids and took off."

Albus' frown deepened as Harry spoke. 'I will have to have words with Petunia and her family,' he thought. "Harry, I am afraid that Petunia is in fact your mother's sister. However, that is the only truth she told you. Your parents were not killed in a car crash, nor were they unemployed, drunken freaks. They were a very powerful witch and wizard and they were murdered by an evil Dark Wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort." At this, Charlie winced sharply and gave a soft yelp. "As you can see, his name is still feared by many. He killed your parents because they stood in his way. His target was actually you, but when he attempted to cast the Killing Curse on you, it rebounded on him, destroying his body, but you survived with only the scar on your forehead. So, to the Wizarding world, you are known as the Boy-Who-Lived. You come from a very wealthy, highly respected Wizarding family, and I deeply regret that I was forced to leave you with Muggles like your relatives. Your parents were good people and I am proud to say that they were my friends."

"So I'm some sort of wizard you say? And my family lied to me for almost eight years?" Harry asked, hotly. "And you're the one who left me with them? Left me to be whipped and beaten for eight years?"

"Please calm yourself, Harry, and I will explain what I can." He turned to Charlie. "If you would excuse us Mr. Weasley, I need to speak with Harry alone for now."

"Certainly, Headmaster. Harry, I don't know what Flint was planning to follow that stunner with, but thanks to you he wasn't able to do so. I'm sorry you got hit with it, and for your actions, I owe you a debt of gratitude." Charlie stood and held out his hand to Harry.

You're welcome, Charlie," said Harry, calming slightly as he shook Charlie's hand. "But you don't owe me anything. That guy was nothing but a coward, attacking you from behind, and you seem like a decent bloke. I'd like a chance to get to know you, if you really feel that you owe me something."

"I'd like that, too. Perhaps dinner tonight?" asked Charlie looking at Dumbledore.

"Absolutely, I will arrange for it and will send a house elf to escort you at 6 o'clock, but for now…"

"Of course. I'll talk to you later Harry," said Charlie, as he left the room.

Harry stared at Dumbledore, idly stroking Shadow, his emerald green eyes smoldering with suppressed anger. "You were going to explain why I had to spend nearly eight years as a whipping post?" he growled.

"When your parents learned that Voldemort had decided to target them, they went into hiding. They used a powerful charm called the Fidelius Charm to magically hide the house. It uses magic to hide a secret inside a person's soul. This person is known as the Secret-Keeper. The only way for a person to find someone or something protected by a Fidelius Charm is to be told the location by the Secret-Keeper. So even though I knew where your parents lived, once it was protected by the Fidelius, I could not see it until I was told the location by the Secret-Keeper. Your parents' wills stated that you were to be placed with your Godfather, Sirius Black."

"So why wasn't I?" Harry snapped.

"Because Sirius was your parent's Secret Keeper. He betrayed your parents and gave Voldemort the secret of their location. He also killed another of your parents' friends when he tracked Sirius down, along with thirteen Muggles. You were still in danger from Voldemort's followers and I had only one way to protect you; wards that were driven off your mother's blood, or in this case the blood relationship with her sister. I did not know what sort of people they were, but I had no other alternative available."

"So now what? I won't go back to those people."

"And I certainly won't make you go back, not after what you've told me. No, I think it would be best if I was to petition the Ministry to have guardianship removed from your relatives and to have you made a ward of Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your guardian, or rather guardians, would be the entire staff of the school, including myself. You would live at the school year round until you come of age and complete your schooling at Hogwarts. You will also be granted access to the Potter family vault at Gringott's when you come of age, but for now you will only have access to a trust vault set up for you by your parents when you were born. Your familiar is of course welcome as well."

"Familiar? You mean Shadow here? Good, I was hoping I'd be able to keep him. I only found him this morning, but I've already grown quite attached to the little guy."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he asked, "Did he happen to bite you? Hard enough to draw blood?"

"Yeah," replied Harry, holding out his hand and showing the tiny scar on his finger. "But it was only a few drops and it scarred over almost immediately.

"I cannot be certain yet, but I am almost certain that that is no ordinary fox. I believe that it has a magical creature known as a kneazle in its pedigree, most likely its mother's mother. That would be why you've formed such a close bond so quickly. The bond was formed when Shadow bit you and tasted your blood. But for now, let us go back to the castle and take care of the paperwork to get your guardianship transferred. We can also have our resident Healer, Madam Pomfrey take a look at Shadow and verify if my suspicions about him are correct." Dumbledore grabbed Harry's pack and together they walked toward the castle, where they were met at the front doors by an irate Severus Snape.

"Headmaster, I protest your punishment of Mr. Flint while leaving Mr. Weasley unpunished," growled Snape.

"He was trying to attack Charlie from behind, the filthy coward!" blurted Harry.

Snape glanced at Harry, noticing only his red hair before continuing. "Another damn Weasley? Merlin knows that family breeds like rabbits, and every last one of them has red hair." Dumbledore opened his mouth to correct Severus, but Harry beat him to the punch.

"With all due respect, sir," said Harry caustically. My name is not Weasley, although Charlie seems like a decent bloke. You however are a rude git, making an assumption about me based solely on my hair color." He looked up at Dumbledore. "Sir, who is this jerk?"

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling merrily as Snape sputtered indignantly. "Harry, may I introduce Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and head of Slytherin House here at Hogwarts. Severus, this is the young man who knocked Charlie Weasley out of the way of Mr. Flint's cowardly attempt to stun him from behind, taking the stunner himself in the process. Take a good look at him, Severus. Recognize someone familiar in his features?"

Severus Snape glared down at the red haired boy standing next to Dumbledore. He took in the boy's facial features and began to sneer. 'Potter!' he thought angrily. 'He's even got that same unruly mop of hair that James had, just not black.' He took a closer look and felt a pang of loss. 'His hair is the same shade of red that Lily's was. I wonder…?' His own thoughts trailed off as he looked into Harry's emerald eyes, probing the boy's mind for his memories of that morning and saw that Marcus had indeed attacked first. Harry stared back at him, not arrogantly like James would have, but almost defiantly, with a glint that reminded him painfully of the look in Lily's eyes that day by the lake when, in his shame and embarrassment, he had called her the vile name of Mudblood. A tear threatened to escape his eye as he thought about his childhood friend. But he took a deep breath and spat, "Potter. My life is complete." He looked back at Dumbledore. "Concerning Mr. Flint's punishment…"

"Mr. Flint's punishment stands, Severus. He attacked another student from behind over a matter that has been resolved. Will there be anything else?" asked Dumbledore, the twinkle in his eyes gone.

"No, Headmaster." Snape bowed stiffly to Dumbledore before turning and stalking off to the dungeons.

"He doesn't like me, does he?" asked Harry as Dumbledore led him up the stairs.

"I believe Severus is rather conflicted right now. You see Harry, he has… history with your parents. Looking at you he sees both your father, with whom he had many conflicts, and your mother, his childhood friend. He is torn between his hatred of your father and the love he still feels for your mother, as well as the guilt he feels for being the one responsible for the estrangement between them. Give it time, Harry. Show him that you are your own person, that while you may look like your father, you are not the boy he went to school with." They reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore gave the password (gum drops) and they went up to fill out the paperwork.

A/N: My muse decided to take a break from Yankee and wanted to return to another one I had started but never published, so I indulged it since I had this and another chapter done and a third nearly complete with the words just flowing. I haven't abandoned Yankee and will return to it but for now enjoy Survivor. Chapter 2 will be up in a few hours.