Disclaimer: checks bank account Nope, not mine.
Beta: Who else, but Aisling. She is one of the few people that can actually put with me long enough to actually figure what the hell I'm asking her. Lol, she rocks.
A/N: Yes, I know the prologue is short, so I'm also giving you guys the first chapter. Yeah, I know that its cliché, but the more reviews I get, the more I will post. Now I will stop talking about stuff that nobody cares about, and you can go read the story.
A/N2: Last thing before the story: If anyone's read The Rules of the Game by skydreamer22, then you know that my story is pretty similar, in the beginning. However, as this story progresses, the differences become huge. That story is very good, and I'm giving it the credit it deserves.
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Title: The American Mystery
Prologue:
Albus Dumbledore popped yet another lemon drop into his mouth as he contemplated the situation he now found himself in. The elder Potters were dead. However their little boy Harry was still alive. He sighed. They were all supposed to have died. Dumbledore need a weapon to fulfill the prophecy and he had hoped that as soon as the Potters were dead, he could have used the Longbottom boy. Now that the Potter boy was alive and marked by the Dark Lord he had become the prophecy child.
As he sat there trying to decide what to do, Dumbledore felt his fury rise at the press, and more accurately Rita Skeeter. If she had not shown up and had a story printed in record time, Dumbledore could have killed the boy and thrust Longbottom into the spotlight. However, that was all in the past, and now he needed a plan for the future. He needed to find a way to make Harry bend to his will, a way to make Harry believe that Albus Dumbledore was the man to be followed. He had to be able to mold Harry into what he wanted him to be. The boy had to be able to receive instructions and follow them exactly
Slowly a plan began to form in Dumbledore's head, and the twinkle, which grew in brightness, in eyes did not bode well for Harry Potter in the least.
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Not five hours later, in a small New York suburb, little Harry Potter was startled awake by the shriek of the woman whose home he was to spend the next 14 years in.