Author's note: this is a story where Harry never married Ginny, nor Draco married Astoria. It's rated M because it has Graphic Despictions of Violence and there's also some mentions of cheating in technicalities. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these things, I strongly recommend you find another story to read because these are the main plot points of the story.

I do not own Harry Potter. The whole universe is written by J. K. Rowling. I only use her characters and locations as a way to entertain myself and you.

English is not my first language, if there's any type error or mistake please feel free to tell me and I'll edit and correct the chapter. Thank you.

The road is completely empty, the sky is still blue and there aren't any clouds to be seen. Driving from work to home in a day like this is completely relaxing and one could feel the natures' peacefulness. A grey Audi comes by the empty road, it looks well-cared even though it's a 2003 model; it's driven with such precaution that it's almost impossible for someone to drive at such low speed around this part of town. The way of driving is so soft and delicate that it didn't matter if something came along the way, it could be easily avoidable and the driver would never lose their temper.

…

In an instant, the car loses control. In the middle of the road it seems like it starts to go at an incredibly high speed, and that the steering wheel is been handled by inexperienced hands. Suddenly, the car starts to overturn, and after rolling over three times, the Audi's roof and hood are completely destroyed and starting to show some smoke. Across the road, upside down, with the wheels still rolling quickly and with all its glasses broken, the car is left there, abandoned.

It almost looks like a coincidence that there isn't another car around.

Harry Potter is still considered one of the bravest wizards of all times, and is still stopped in the middle of the streets to be greeted or to shake his hand. It's been nineteen years since the battle of Hogwarts and there are still people who admire the boy who lived (twice). Although, he's not a boy anymore. He's a thirty-seven-year old man, and he's everything he's ever wanted to be. Sometimes, all he wants is to get all his stuff and move unknown to some apartment in the muggle world, where he knows he's never going to be found, where he knows he's never going to be stopped to shake his hand or thank him for saving the world, or where he's never going to be stared at like he was some sort of god. However, he always stops after he realizes that he doesn't know how to do anything other than what he is: an Auror, built on the internal and external battles he fought his entire life. Hogwarts made him and it showed him the way he took without a second guess, and that had taken him where he is now: the Head of the Auror's Department; and Harry loves his job.

The magical side of London has stayed the same over the years, and to be honest, Harry isn't surprised at all. Hermione and he agree that it seems like they stayed stuck in the XIX century on purpose; however, it seems to work and there's peace among everyone so, why change it? Harry wants to believe that the important thing is that the prejudice don't take over the life of wizards and witches anymore. Potter thinks that all of that stayed indoors since everyone were really focused on solve the other problems Voldemort's fall had left.

None of the things Harry has seen as an Auror compares to everything he had done when they were looking for the horcruxes. In the beginning, he'd thought that his Auror training would cause him such a rush he'll be completely excited to catch the dark wizards that had escaped after Lord Voldemort's fall. But it wasn't like that; instead, he'd lost all the enthusiasm and he is now behind a desk, authorizing missions, bored while his Aurors are investigating in the field. Sometimes he feels like he's missing something, some emotion in his life, something that motivates him to do something different aside from sending and receiving owls with reports, but he hasn't been able to find that something that can fill the emptiness he feels inside yet. He understands that this is the path he chose, and he loves being an Auror, but sometimes he feels like sitting on a chair desk is not the only thing he's supposed to do, sometimes he thinks that accepting the position as the Head Auror wasn't the right choice. He should have stayed in the field, he's sure someone else could do the job just as good as he does.

The morning of October 17 starts as any other morning would. Harry wakes up early, he takes a shower and has breakfast on his way to the Ministry, without putting much thought into what's surrounding him in the streets. It's the same routine over and over again, and even if he's used to it, he wants something new and interesting happening to him, maybe a robbery or an accident while he walks by the street. London isn't used to have big things happening anymore, and he knows whatever happens is going to be published in The Daily Prophet, even if he doesn't read it anymore.

When Harry gets to the Ministry there's a big commotion. There are a lot of wizards and witches filling the halls, usually empty at this hour when Harry walks to his office; with surprise, he tries to ignore the murmurs and whispers, but while walking past some witches he hears something that catches his attention.

"Poor kid, and at such young age…"

That makes him stop in the middle of everything and he tries to find a known face among all of them. Inside his head, every single person looks the same: blurred and almost unrecognizable and that makes him feel a little bit of pain on his temple.

"Neville!" he recognizes after staring a spot for a long while. Harry thinks he maybe needs to change his glasses.

"Harry!" Neville walks at high speed to where his friend is.

"What is going on? Why are there so many people in here?"

Neville looks at him with a worried expression before answering. "Do you remember Elena? Elena Pemberton?"

"Yes. Although I haven't heard from her in almost ten years, why?"

"She died a couple of days ago. The only thing I know is that it was a car accident." Harry looks at him with wide eyes. "Apparently, she lived in the muggle side of Ireland, she had a nine-year old son. They're in the Wizengamot deciding what are they going to do with him."

Harry feels a knot on his chest. He can almost think about what had happened to him when he was just a baby, and a hunch makes him move and walk to the Wizengamot. The door is open and, funny enough, the room is almost empty. Even if the situation is as disconcerting as it is, Harry thinks, there aren't many people interested in that child's destiny.

The Minister of Magic looks at him the moment he enters the room, nodding at him while he listens to the testimony of one of the Aurors that, for some reason, Harry hasn't been able to identify their voice or their face just yet, he asks himself if the situation is hitting him harder than he thought. He sits far away from some wizards and witches that look at the Auror with full attention.

"… the car was found in the middle of the road by some Irish folks that were driving around, apparently there hadn't passed that much time because when they got Pemberton's body out of the car, the fire hadn't reached the gas tank yet. They found some ID's, which helped while finding out she was from England so they called the London muggles' authorities, who called for the Ministry. William Pemberton was found in the house by Irish authorities, was taken custody of him and was transferred to London. At this moment, he's at one of the local orphanages. We tried to contact the Pemberton's family but none of them would take the kid, apparently Elena cut all of her tights with her family before getting out of the country.

The Auror finishes talking about the case and Harry's head can only think about two things: that kid must be scared and he probably doesn't understand anything that's happening, has someone taken the time to explain what happened to his mother?; and the second thing was that there wasn't any sign of the father, plus he's using his mother's last name.

"All right. Thank you." Kingsley speaks calmly. "The Ministry of Magic will decide what is going to happen to the infant, William Pemberton."

A lot of voices start to talk at the same time and Harry feels his heart clench. Deciding what was going to happen to a nine-year old kid was a soulless act, but the adults never thought about the kids' wishes and if those decisions could affect their lives dangerously, they just left the things hanging until something happened. Harry closes his fists with anger, feeling the weight of his own actions when he was just a teenager. Hermione, sitting beside Kingsley, looks at him with a worried expression. He watches her as she murmurs something to the Minister's ear and then, the whole room falls silent.

"The Ministry of Magic has decided to put the nine-year old infant, William Pemberton in the system," that's the first thing Kingsley says. "However, seeing that the kid is in no condition of being in an orphanage, given the psychological trauma of the moment, the kid's custody is put on trial until further notice."

The room stays silent. Kingsley's suggestion was hanging there, almost implicit. Whoever wanted to take the kid's custody, temporarily, could speak up immediately. Harry feels like a sense of will overwhelms him; a big, warm feeling of overprotection of a kid he hasn't even met yet, but with whom he could empathize because his justice sense spoke loud and clear. The black-haired knows Hermione can't take the boy in because she's working really hard to be the next Minister of Magic, and Ron's constantly traveling so he can't take care of the boy while she's at the Ministry. Harry stands up.

"I'll take him." He pronounces firmly.

Harry looks almost defiant to anyone who dares to have demur intentions. The room is completely still out of the surprise, and Hermione looks at him with proudness and a feeling in her eyes that he can't identify. With a smile, she nods at him and Harry feels that the whole movement is the last reassurance he needed to make the decision.

"Mr. Potter, I understand and admire your… willfulness," a woman speaks from the podium, with a smile that looked a lot like Umbridge's to Harry. ", but you have no experience as a parent."

Harry sighs. He definitely didn't think about that.

"William Pemberton doesn't need a father, Julia." Hermione says with annoyance. "He needs someone who takes care of him and who's aware of what he needs while the whole adopting process ends. I can't think of someone better than Harry for that job."

"Harry Potter is an Auror." Some man speaks from behind. ", his job will leave him no time to take care of the boy."

"I'm the Head of the Auror's Department. My job is, literally, sit behind a desk. How am I not going to have enough time to take care of him if I'm always in London?"

The room starts to fill with whispers and murmurs until Kingsley speaks up again and makes everyone shut up. Harry is looked with distrust, pride, incredulity and even annoyance.

"Harry Potter." Kingsley looks at him, "are you sure you want to take William Pemberton into your custody until the adopting process ends and he's completely safe?"

"Yes, I am completely sure."

"Very well. Then I declare you the legal guardian of Elena Pemberton's son."

Harry walks quickly around the muggle's streets, without looking twice to the people walking around him. He has changed his wizard robes and he's now wearing a jean and a light blue t-shirt, he has a file with the necessary papers to take William out of the orphanage, signed by the muggle authorities, plus the Ministry of Magic. He sighs deeply when he gets to the orphanage's bars. It looks impressive. Even he, an old man, is a bit scared of going inside. Whoever thought that this place was child-friendly needs to rethink their life choices.

The construction is imposing. It looks like some kind of centuries-old, abandoned mansion because of the lack of painting and the mold cause by the rain. The door is a big piece of metal and the windows have bars outside of the glass. Harry suppresses a shiver when he passes by the front door and then is guided to the Director of the Orphanage's office. Harry doesn't want to have to come back to this place ever in his life after he gets out of here, and he really wishes the kid doesn't have to come back either.

"Mr. Potter, nice to meet you. My name is Lucille Thompson, I'm the Orphanage's director."

Lucille is a plump woman, tall and her face is gentle. However, Harry doesn't want to believe that unnecessary show of sweetness. When he was a kid, he had watched a few movies about orphanages with Dudley, always threated to be taken there by his uncle as a consequence of his behavior, and all of them showed an evil director that acted like an angel in front of the adults. Harry knows that's very childish of him, but he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Thompson." Harry answers with a smile, the woman laughs.

"Oh, my, 'Miss'. It's been quite a long time since someone called me that. However, no, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Thompson is ok, my husband is still alive."

Harry frowns at the sudden share of background, however, he tries not to pay much attention.

"I have understood that you come here because of the little William." The woman speaks very serious.

"That's right. A few days ago, I was assigned as his legal tutor." Harry handles her the file.

"Very good." She says while she looks at the papers inside. ", it seems like everything is in order, however, I would like to ask you some questions. Don't worry, Mr. Potter, they're just standard questions." Harry nods, confused. "Can you offer William a bed, a roof and warm food?"

"Yes." He answers confused. "I live alone in a two bedrooms apartment, both of them completely furnished, so he can have his own room."

"Very well," she answers staring at him. "Will you be available for him when he needs you, every single day he stays with you?"

"Yes. I have a very flexible schedule and right now I have a two-week permission so William can get comfortable around me."

"Good… Do you have the patience to handle a nervous crisis?" she asks and she looks at him with sadness.

"I consider myself a very patient person. I'll try to handle any crisis he has the best way I can."

Harry knows that he's telling a half-lie. Patience isn't something he would use to describe himself, he would use that quality to describe Hermione, maybe. He feels a little bit more inclined to call himself "impulsive", but this is for William's sake. If he needs to lie, he's going to lie.

"It's just that… William's been having a lot of nervous crisis at night times. He wakes up screaming and crying but he doesn't say a word. Since he got here he hasn't talked to anyone and he's usually sitting in a corner. I'm really worried he doesn't get out of that state."

"He's just in shock." Harry says. ", he probably doesn't understand why he's here and why he can't see his mother anymore. Kids understand a lot more than they let us see, but we need to explain it to them. If nobody tells him anything, there's no way he can understand why he's in a different place."

The woman looks at him for what he felt hours but she smiles: "I'm sure the little William will be in very good hands with you, Mr. Potter."

He smiles feeling content with himself. He understands what it feels like to be an outsider, he lived feeling that way most of his childhood. Harry understands now the pressure he's been feeling since he heard about the kid and only one thought comes to his mind: I want to be to that kid what Hagrid was to me when I was little.

Lucille Thompson stands up from her chair and asks Harry to follow her. They go through another set of halls, doors and stairs until they stop in front of a big door that has a "play room" sign on it. Even from outside, Harry can listen to the screams and laughs from the kids inside, and even if he's heard the opposite, he has this tiny hope inside of him of wanting William to be one of the kids who's laughing. The door opens and it looks like nobody pays attention to that. Harry scans the room and every kid inside looks like they're having a blast. He hears Lucille talking to someone, asking them to bring William to them and Harry can't help but look the path the person had taken, however, they disappear behind a door.

Harry gets distracted quite some time looking at some kids fighting because of a toy and he laughs to himself, wondering if Dudley and he had done something like that at some point. He doubted that, but he thinks that even his aunt and uncle could find amusing something like that.

"Here we are!" one of the persons in charge says. Harry looks at her for a minute and then he looks down. William is small, even for a nine-year old kid he looks smaller and younger, seven years at most. He keeps his eyes on the floor and he has his hoodie covering his head. Harry kneels in front of him and smiles fondly looking at the kid, however he doesn't look at him.

"Hello, William," Harry says. "My name is Harry Potter. I'll be your legal guardian from now on and you'll be staying with me, is that ok with you?"

Harry waits patiently for an answer but the kid doesn't seem to register him. With a sigh, he starts to stand up again but the kid looks directly at him. He looks exactly like Elena Pemberton when they were kids: pale skin, no freckles, brown eyes and hair… Harry stares at the kid's head. Elena had had beautiful blonde hair but her kid… her kid was a redhead. A shade of red he's seen almost his whole life. He feels dizzy for a moment. The boy nods and with a mechanical movement he starts to walk to the open door, leaving Harry still kneeled on the floor and feeling like the room's spinning.