Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

Summary: Harry Potter was discovered in an orphanage, not even knowing his name. To make matters worse, he was found at an orphanage where a child had been abused 5 years earlier. Dumbledore is worried about the extent of the abuse he might have received, but Harry isn't talking. At all. In fact, other than his timid nature, they aren't even certain he WAS abused. Will Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall be able to get him to talk? Was he abused? What is he hiding?

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Chapter 1

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A thin elderly woman with a pair of oval glasses sat in a well-lit cozy office, piles of papers in front of her. Her mousy brown hair was tied into a tight bun high up on her head and she was adorned in beautiful scarlet and gold robes that just barely reached the floor. Sighing, she set down her quill and leaned back heavily in her chair. Why did there have to be so many papers involved with new students? She was just now going over the letters explaining Hogwarts that she was sending out tomorrow. Sigh. Once that was done, she would be assisting Dumbledore in going to muggle-born children to explain and demonstrate how to get into Diagon Alley and getting all their magical stuff.

Leaning forward and brushing an imaginary loose stand of hair out of her face, the woman sat back up and grabbed another letter. She quickly scanned over the words for any important mistakes. Not finding any, the professor grabbed an envelope pre-addressed with magic. She scanned it without interest and she slipped the letter into the envelope. Her hand still hovered over it when the name registered in her mind. She snatched it back up, rereading it carefully. She let out a loud gasp and jumped out of her chair screaming "Albus! Albus!" She ran out of the office and raced down the corridor.

"Lemon Drops!" She yelled as she approached the golden eagle entrance to the Headmaster's Office. She ran up the steps that began to rotate two steps at a time. For an elderly woman she sure could run. She burst into the office, not bothering to knock and not caring if he had company. Fortunately he did not. Albus was sitting at his desk, the firelight from the candle on his desk making his long hair and beard sparkle silver. Half moon glasses were residing on his nose, and he was looking troubled by whatever he was reading. A beautiful crimson bird sat on a perch watching the woman. An assortment of indescribable items were scattered throughout the majestic room.

"Albus Dumbledore! Look at this!" She thrusted the letter in his face in an accusing voice. Startled, Dumbledore stared at the letter.

Harry James Potter

Number Twenty-Three

422 Tull Street

Sagan Memorial Orphanage

Confusion filled his face at first. Then horror. "You left him to those people Dumbledore!" She screamed at him, "You! And look where he got sent!"

"I know Minerva." Dumbledore sighed wearily, standing up slowly. "But now is not the time. We need to hurry." He strode out of the room, robes billowing behind him. The woman quickly caught up to him. They walked swiftly down the empty corridors, out unto the grounds, and to the edge of the forest. They disappeared the minute they passed the first tree of the Dark Forest.

They reappeared on a lonely street in west London. Only one building was on this street; a large gray stone building that looked on the verge of collapse. "We're going to this as properly as possible, Minerva. We don't need to add any stress to the boy. He's probably traumatized if this orphanage is anything like it was 5 years ago." Dumbledore pulled out his wand, waving it silently. Immediately his pale blue robes transformed into a dark pair of pants and a pale blue shirt. Minerva followed suit, exchanging her robes for a black skirt and scarlet shirt with gold lining. "Alright lets go."

A horrible feeling pierced Dumbledore, growing stronger with every step. 5 years ago they had come here for the same reason, to retrieve a future Hogwarts student. The poor girl had been abused. The only way she had been able to cope with it was by anger. It had been hard, with her constantly lashing out whenever she felt threatened. She had taken over a year to recover mentally from it. Sometimes still they saw her revert back to her old ways. Because magically they couldn't get involved, they had filed a complaint about the orphanage through muggle means, but they didn't know what, if any, action had been taken.

It was completely silent as Dumbledore knocked on the door. That's a good sign, right? Last time they had arrived to yelling and the sounds of things being thrown. Despite this, Dumbledore felt himself dreading what he would discover. Several minutes passed and no one answered. Dumbledore was about to grab the doorknob, when the door finally opened. A tall, completely average looking guy answered the door. His hair was a medium brown, his eyes also brown but they were very cold and detached. His skin was not pale, not tan. He wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

"What do you want?" the man asked rudely.

"We want to see your orphans, please." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at him. It was a different man than last time, but those eyes...those eyes did not comfort either of his visitors.

"Sure, whatever." he said, nonchalantly. "Come inside." He motioned with his hand for them to follow him and strode lazily into the front room. The whole orphanage was rather plain and looked in need of repair. "Sit down if you like." he sat down in an old gray armchair. They apprehensively sat down on the musty couch. "So what kind of kid you looking for? We got lots and I'm sure you don't want to see all of them."

"Actually, we're looking for a specific child. His name is Harry. Harry Potter." Dumbledore stared right in the man's eyes, looking for a reaction.

"There aint a child that I know of with the name Harry Potter here. The children go by number at this orphanage." The man spoke irritably, but he didn't look away from Dumbledore's eyes.

"Number? That's horrible! This is children we're talking about!" Minerva's voice was venomous, but the man didn't seem to notice her comment at all. Dumbledore was silent, lost in thought. Several minutes passed.

"Can I see child number Twenty-Three?" Dumbledore asked finally.

"Number Twenty-Three! Get in here!" The man's voice was harsh. Dumbledore cringed. A minute later they saw a bright green eye peek around the door. He has Lily's eyes. Dumbledore and Minerva thought in unision. "Come on!" the man snarled irritably. The boy's eyes were downcast as he scuffled the rest of the way in nervously.

His black hair was shaggy and everywhere and his bright green eyes were suprisingly old. Yet he was small, so small. He didn't look more than 8 years old. Dumbledore felt his heart sink. "May we talk to him alone?" Dumbledore turned his eyes off the child to look at the man mumbled something that sounded like "whatever," and walked out of the room.

"Hello, child. Do you have a name?" Dumbledore asked gently. The child glanced up, but only for a second before shaking his head no. Dumbledore felt his lips fall into a frown. He was pretty sure he'd seen pain in those eyes. "Child...Do you have any unusual...marks?" The boy looked confused for a second, but then something dawned on him. He pulled up his hair, revealing a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Dumbledore and Minerva nodded, knowing that they had the right child.

"Did...Did you know about my scar?" he was looking at them, curious and slightly afraid.

"Yes, child. See, we came here to take you to our school." Dumbledore answered. Shock crossed the boy's face.

"Me." he pointed to himself confused. "Why would you come for me?"

"Yes, you." Dumbledore smiled at him softly, though he hated how dejected he sounded. "Your very special to us. You see, we knew your parents. They were students of ours when they were kids. We also knew you when you were a baby." The boy stared at him with wide eyes.

"Do..Do you know my name? I mean...my birth name." the boy stuttered nervously, looking down. Dumbledore felt a pang in his heart. The child wanted to know his name. Such a small request consisdering what he must have went through.

"Your name is Harry. Harry James Potter." Dumbledore murmurred.