Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters and plot elements are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and other affiliated copyright holders. Otherwise, they are spawned from some strange place in my head. I seek no profits from this story, simply to share what I've come up with.

Summary: When young Harry Potter is locked in his cupboard on the night before his tenth birthday, broken and bruised from his cousin's favorite game of Harry Hunting, he finds himself breaking down for the first time in years. Nothing ever changes for little Harry, no matter how many birthdays pass. Little does he know that a surprising visitor would show up that night in a flash of fire and song...

A/N: This story begins a year before Harry's first year at Hogwarts, and it is my goal to keep it running for a good long while. This is my first crack at writing fanfiction of any kind; any reviews or constructive criticism would be much appreciated. I'm an avid HP fic reader and I hope I can do this idea justice. It is also my hope that I can crank out a unique plot to entertain you all! Plans for this to be HHr in the future, may be some Weasely and Dumbledore bashing. Everyone should be as close to in-character as I can pull off, though. Completely un-beta'd, and if you want to apply I'd be glad to look at anything you've done before; I'm fairly confident in my ability to use the English language, but it's entirely possible there will be inconsistencies, especially with British culture as I am definitely not from the Isles.

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Chapter 1

The house at Number Four, Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey was a perfectly normal home. The garden was kept perfectly; there was not a stray weed or overly-vibrant flower was to be found. The house was perfectly clean; the car, waxed and dust-free; the lawn manicured down to a blade of grass. Not a thing was out of place that night, as the residents of this oh-so-perfectly normal little home were snoring away in their beds. Well, that is, all except for one.

While the Dursleys - the owners of this fine suburban abode - were upstairs, safe and warm in their beds, a young boy with untameable black hair sat curled up on his cot, tucked away in the cupboard under the stairs. He dared not move, as every wince he gave made him want to moan out in pain – and he certainly couldn't afford to disturb his relatives' slumber, lest they do something worse to him.

Earlier that very same day, little Harry Potter had been on the run from his cousin, Dudley, and his gang of thugs as they engaged in their very favorite game that they liked to call Harry Hunting. It was a very apt name, certainly, as the young Mr. Potter fled like a panicked rabbit hounded by savage dogs who were right on his tail. Unfortunately, on this day like on so many others, Harry had lost their game and found himself cornered by the group of boys down an alleyway. They took turns beating the already-fragile young boy, pushing and pulling and holding him down as they kicked away at anywhere he was vulnerable. Despite his efforts, Harry walked – well, limped, really – away from the scrap with a fractured wrist, possibly a broken rib or two (for it certainly felt that way), a black eye, and numerous bruises beginning to blossom all over his body. When he finally made it home, his uncle, Vernon Dursley, the great whale of a man, had violently thrown him into his cupboard for being late home for the evening and failing to be there to prepare the family their supper. And there Harry sat, hungry and tired and sore all over, with tears in his eyes that never fell – that hadn't fallen in years, since he had learned that there was no point to crying when it only makes things worse.

So here was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the great savior of the wizarding world - unbeknownst to him, of course - curled up alone on his mangy cot in his spider-riddled cupboard, wondering how it was that Dudley and his friends always seemed to find a new place to make him hurt worse than ever before. The clock in the hall chimed midnight, and he softly whispered to himself, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday d-dear Harry," here he took in a shuddering breath, "H-happy birthday… to me…"

The tears that had filled his eyes began to fall for the first time in years, as he held himself, unmoving, finding that turning ten years old had changed nothing, just like every other time his birthday came around. He wiped his eyes furiously, immediately wishing he hadn't as a sharp pain flashed in his side and he bit back a yelp, angry at himself for being so weak as to finally give in to crying after all this time.

At that very moment, however, he began to hear a gentle crooning song seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The song began to swell, and the tears in his eyes flowed yet again, though this time not from pain or sadness but rather because of the swooping feeling that started in his chest and seemed to flow through him, relaxing his aching body in a way he hadn't felt before in his entire life. Suddenly, a flash of fire joined him in his dark, dank cupboard, and this time he did yelp aloud, covering his mouth with his hands immediately after as he prayed that his relatives would not have woken. As he sat with his mouth covered, he watched in wonder as a beautiful bird, about the size of a swan, with plumage of mixed scarlet and glowing gold perched upon the opposite edge of his cot. The bird opened its beak, and again came the gentle song that soothed him inside and out. He relaxed yet again, still wary of the strange creature and yet feeling that something that sang so beautifully could not be so bad.

If he thought he had had a shock when the bird appeared in a flash of flames, he certainly was unprepared for the soft, male voice he began to hear inside his head. "Fear not, young one," the voice said, "I wish you no harm." The proud animal before him bowed its head slightly, and he realized at once what was going on.

"I'm crazy. I've gone completely around the bend, that's it. There can't be a bloody great fowl sitting here, talking to me. Piers must have caught me worse than I thought, if I'm seeing things like this."

A tinkling laugh sounded in his mind, and the bird's black eyes sparkled with amusement as the voice came again, saying "I assure you, you have not lost your mind. There are many things of which you are unaware, child, and I am but one of them." Its eyes took on a slightly sharper appearance, though there was still a measure of mirth lying within. "And I would like it very much if you would refrain from calling me a 'bloody great fowl' again."

"Oh." said Harry, "I'm sorry then. I didn't mean to offend you." He was still fairly certain that he was hallucinating, for certainly things like this could not happen in the real world, but he figured he may as well play along. He had certainly never heard of anything like a bird that could appear like that, and especially not one that would suddenly show up in a cupboard under the stairs and start talking, even to a freak like him. "I mean," he thought, "that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales. And this is even stranger than that! If this were real, it'd take something like…"

"Magic?" came the voice yet again, as the bird looked at him with that same amused twinkling in its eyes. "As I said, young one, there are many things that you as yet do not know."

Harry nodded dumbly, still thoroughly unconvinced. The bird before him began to approach and he started to shrink back before realizing that, seeing as how this must be all in his head, it certainly could not hurt him. That soft, musical laughter came again, and the bird said to him, "If you still do not believe, let me give you some proof. As you say, if I'm not real then I certainly cannot harm you; and, if I am, I promise you that I will help." Harry considered this for a moment and, sensing the sincerity in the bird's promise, he nodded and sat still as the bird came closer yet again. It began singing that gentle song again, relaxing his sore muscles, and he took a short breath as it leaned its head against his chest and began to cry. As the tears hit his skin, he felt a tingling as his pain wash away and he watched his bruises shrink before his very eyes. He felt motion in his side and realized his ribs were tingling as well. Must have been right about those broken ribs, he thought. He gave a hesitant touch to his abdomen and, feeling no pain, began to prod gently at the places he had been so badly injured only seconds before. Shockingly, he found that he truly felt no pain; that, it seemed, he had truly been healed. The scarlet bird laid its head yet again upon him, this time over a cut he had received when he was chucked into his cupboard, and let more tears fall. He felt that same tingling, almost a burning sensation, course slowly through his veins as the wound healed, and suddenly he felt even more relaxed as the rest of his bruises faded and his broken wrist seemed to mend before his very eyes. He gave it a gentle flex, and took in a deep breath as he tested his body. When he realized that he really was healed of all of his injuries, he looked back up at the bird with a strange mix of awe, confusion, and a hint of fear in his eyes.

"This is crazy. I can't believe it but you can't be in my head, hallucinations can't heal cuts and mend bones! What… What are you?" he said, realizing only too late that he was again raising his voice. He again clapped his hands over his mouth, listening intently for the telltale stomping of his uncle's feet on the stairs. Luckily, it never came.

"I feel your fear, youngling. You need not speak. As I speak to you in your mind, you need only think what you wish to say and I will hear it just as well. Yes, as I have told you, and as I have shown you, I am real. The name we call ourselves cannot be said in your tongue, so you may simply call me 'phoenix' as others of your kind have for centuries upon centuries."

"A phoenix?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Er," he muttered, "A phoenix?!"

Again that mirthful laughter. "Yes. A phoenix. I did figure that should be obvious from the fire, you know."

"Well yeah," Harry thought, "now that you mention it I suppose it makes some sense. Cut me some slack, okay? I'm tired and this is a lot to take in."

"Yes, I suppose you have had a long day, haven't you?" The scarlet firebird gave him a look that seemed to convey a deep sympathy as it settled next to him. "In fact, you should get some rest now, my child. I would stay with you, if you will allow me."

Harry thought for only a moment before coming to his decision. "Yes," he thought, "I would like that." He figured that the creature before him had done him no harm so far; in fact, it had done him more good than anyone had before. "What should I call you, though? Do you have a name?"

"I have no title of my own. Some of your kind have given me names in the past; Arick, Praetor, Kenna… Many, many names in my years in this world. You may choose one of your own, if you wish."

Harry sat in thought for a time, considering the majestic animal before him. Finally, he looked up and into the eyes of the phoenix. "Asa. My name for you is Asa."

The regal bird before him nodded its assent. "So shall it be. Such a name from one so young… I was worried you might decide to call me 'Polly.'" he said in a way that indicated he'd be smirking, if birds could do such a thing. Harry made a face that showed his feelings on that matter, and the phoenix laughed yet again. "Good night, young Harry. Rest well, child." Before Harry could answer, he spoke once more, saying those words that Harry had never before heard; "And happy birthday."

"Goodnight, Asa. And… Thank you." he thought with the faintest of smiles, finally drifting off into a deep slumber. The phoenix at his side nestled closer still as they settled in for the night.

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The next thing Harry knew, he was being woken by the sound of Dudley's massive weight descending the staircase above. He blinked his eyes blearily before the events of the night before came back to him. "What a dream," he thought to himself, before shifting and realizing that his pain really had gone. Looking himself over, he stared in shock as he saw his skin unmarred, and his wrist perfectly set, as if it had never been broken in the first place. Turning around slowly, he saw the feathered form lying next to where he had been but moments before. He reached out hesitantly, touching the great bird only gently before it raised its head to meet his eyes. With a start, Harry realized that any moment one of his relatives would be ripping open his door to drag him out to fix their breakfast.

"Yo-" he began to say but, remembering the night before in more detail, he held his tongue. "You need to hide! It's not safe here, and my relatives will come any minute!" The phoenix – no, Asa – stared into his eyes for only a few moments before nodding his head and disappearing in yet another burst of flames.

"BOY!" came the expected voice of his aunt Petunia, "GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW AND FIX MY DUDDYKINS HIS BREAKFAST!" The door was opened violently, the sudden light hitting Harry straight in the eyes and causing him to wince. His aunt stopped for a moment, staring at his obviously healed body with a look of disgust tinged with – fear? Was she afraid of him for some reason? Nonetheless, she quickly came back to her senses and pulled him up from his cot, pushing him in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't you do anything to ruin this meal, boy! My little Dudders needs his breakfast to grow big and strong!"

"Yeah, sure," he thought to himself, "the big part is right at least." He moved his way into the kitchen and began setting up what he needed to fix the family's daily eggs and bacon, of which he would of course have only the scraps left over. As he began to place a few small slivers of bacon onto a fourth plate, his aunt wrenched it away from him with a sneer on her face. "Oh no, boy. You'll have no breakfast today, after what you did last night. A freak like you hardly deserves it anyways."

Harry sighed inwardly, feeling his stomach tighten as his second meal, if it could even be called one, was taken away from him. Turning from his aunt, he allowed himself a small scowl since no one was paying attention to him at the time. He watched as Dudley shoveled fistfuls of food into his gaping maw, suddenly feeling glad that he wasn't eating lest he be sick. His uncle came waddling in, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and pulling him aside. "Listen here, boy. Since you decided to shirk your chores last night, today you'll be cleaning out the garage, clearing the gutters by hand, mowing the lawn, pruning and weeding the garden, and if you finish with all of that you'll repaint the garage door and go into your cupboard until we get home."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." he muttered, feeling sick at the thought of having to do so much on an empty stomach. When his mind caught up, he couldn't help but ask, "When you get home? Are you going somewhere today?"

His uncle stared at him with a gruff frown on his face, his moustache twitching slightly, before saying, "Not that it's any of your business, boy, but yes. We're taking Dudley out to the amusement park for the day, and we won't be back until late. If you dare do anything freakish to this house, if we hear a single word that you've stepped out of line, it'll be no meals for a week, do you hear me? Now get to work!" With that, he shoved his way past Harry and made his way over to the table to wolf down his breakfast in nearly as disgusting a manner as his son.

Harry made his way outside, intent on getting the worst out of the way first as he went to the shed to grab a ladder and bucket. Hefting the heavy thing back out of the shed, he dragged it over and set it up against the side of the house. He began climbing up so as to get to work on the gutters, cringing to himself as he reached the top and looked at the muck inside. He rolled up his sleeves and, screwing up his face at the thought, began to dig the awful-smelling goop out and into the bucket he had with him. After a few minutes of this, he heard the garage open and the car start. As they were leaving the drive, his uncle leaned out the window and shouted up to him, "Remember boy, no freakish funny business! And those had best be sparkling by the time you're through!"

Harry sighed, nodding at his uncle as the car pulled out and they drove away. Turning back, Harry nearly jumped as the familiar flare sprang into existence right in front of him. He teetered on the ladder, nearly falling backwards before the phoenix reached out with a talon and pulled him back to safety.

"I am sorry young one, I did not mean to startle you so badly." Looking along the edge of the roof, Asa gave a small, sad sound as he saw what Harry had to get accomplished. Turning back, he said, "Your relatives are some of the worst I have ever encountered. I am truly sorry for them, child. No man should be kept the way you have been, and certainly not one so young! If I may be of assistance, please let me know. I will be listening, and will keep you company if nothing else."

Harry glanced quickly around, sighing in relief as he saw that no one else was wandering the neighborhood at that moment. He turned to the creature and spoke, "You really must be careful. If anyone were to see you, I don't know what would happen! Since they've gone for the day you may stay inside, and I will let you know if I could use any help." The phoenix nodded and flashed away yet again, though shortly after Harry heard his voice once more in his mind.

"We may speak this way if you wish at any time, young one. I am sure you must have questions, and I will give you answers if you seek them." he said as Harry began to get back to his chores. Harry, still scooping out masses of garbage from the gutters, thought to himself for a little while as he considered the offer. He did certainly have questions, but he had no idea where to begin. To think; A phoenix, an honest-to-God phoenix, had suddenly appeared without any warning, healed his wounds, and curled up beside him for the night. He was certain that this had implications he could not even dream of, and he had to decide just what he wanted to know before he could ask. And so, as he worked, he carefully began asking Asa the questions that were on his mind.

"There are so many things I could ask, Asa. First, though, if I'm going to call you by name, you may as well call me Harry. Now… Why did you come to me last night? I mean, I'm glad you did, but to think that a phoenix would suddenly appear just to spend the night with a freak like me is hardly believable. Do you want something from me?"

That same sad noise echoed in Harry's mind, before Asa answered, "My chi-… Harry, you are no 'freak.' And you are far more important than you know. I am here to guide you, Harry, and to help you where I can. I ask nothing of you but to be your companion, for there are things that will come to pass that even I cannot imagine."

"But the Dursleys, they've always said…"

"No." Asa cut in sharply, "You must know by now that they cannot be trusted; that they are liars of the worst sort. There is nothing wrong with you, Harry. You are a very special young man. Your relatives, however, they are truly the 'freaks' here. To treat a child this way is an abomination."

Harry took a moment to think again, considering these words. As he thought, he found himself agreeing with what Asa had to say. Surely it was not normal – and he almost laughed at that thought – to treat someone the way he had been treated.

"Alright." he thought, "I see your point. What do you mean, though, that you want to be my companion? What makes me so special? And…" at this point, Harry recalled something that Asa had mentioned the previous night, "Did you say something last night about magic? Are you saying that magic is real?"

That musical laugh sounded again, and the reply was tinged with the same amused tone. "To answer your last question first: Yes, Harry, there is such thing as magic. I'm sure your relatives have done everything in their power to make you believe otherwise, but I am sure you have seen evidence of it yourself, if you think hard enough."

Harry contemplated this response, thinking back to the strange things that tended to happen around him. There was the time that his aunt had sheared most of his hair off, only for it to grow back overnight. There was the time that his teacher's wig had turned shockingly blue right in front of his eyes. There was the time that he had been fleeing from his cousin's gang only to suddenly find himself on the roof of the school kitchens. Collecting all of those strange happenings, he began to understand that magic was really the only explanation. "But then…" he thought, "Does that mean… Do I have magic?"

The reply here was tinged with not a little bit of pride. "Yes, Harry. You have magic. Your people would call you a 'wizard,' and no, this does not make you a 'freak.' This is but one of the reasons that I claimed that you were special. Now, back to your first question: I have chosen you, Harry, and I wish to stay by your side. Not as a pet, but as an ally and friend to you. Those of my kind very rarely choose to accompany one of you, though many of your kind have snared us by one means or another. I, myself, have unfortunately been held against my will several times in my life, used for my tears and plumes or kept as an exotic pet."

Harry had frozen in shock. "A wizard," he thought, "I'm a wizard. Magic is real and I'm a bloody wizard." His expression slowly darkened as another revelation came to him. "And I bet they knew. They had to know! What else haven't they told me?!"

The gutters on the house began to shudder under his hands as the pressure around him swelled. Just as it seemed that something would snap, Asa's soothing song entered his mind once more and quelled his anger to a manageable level. "Yes, Harry. They did know. And there is much they have not told you. Your relatives live in fear of you; your aunt, consumed with jealousy. They truly hate that there is magic in this world, and wish to quash yours while you are still young. They cannot, of course, but it does not mean they will not try."

"Jealous? Aunt Petunia is jealous of me?"

"Well, yes and no. It is not only you, Harry, but it is her sister – your mother – that she is truly jealous of. And she has been for all her life, alas. She knows nothing else."

"My mother?" Harry thought, a clenching feeling starting in his chest. "She said… They told me my mother and father were drunks. That they died in a car crash. Are you saying my mom was magical?"

"Yes, Harry. Your father as well. They were no drunkards, they did not die in a car crash. I… Do not believe it is yet time for you to know the true story. Let me simply tell you that your parents died as heroes; and they died protecting you from harm."

"Th-they did? My mum and dad… They were heroes?" he asked, tears forming in his eyes. He allowed them to fall, this time. He cried silently as he felt a deep longing for the parents he never knew; for the love that they had had for him; that they had died protecting him. He allowed himself to cry freely now, understanding finally, thanks to Asa, that tears can sometimes heal better than anything else.

"Thank you, Asa. Thank you for telling me."

"You are welcome, Harry. It is the least that I can do." came the gentle response.

Harry calmed himself and, wiping his eyes against one of his rolled sleeves, realized he had finished working while distracted by the conversation. Looking around, he noticed that not much time had gone by, and sighed with some relief as he began to make his way back down to the ground. He emptied the bucket of grime into the bin and placed the ladder back in its spot in the shed before going to wash himself off a bit so he could get on with the rest of his work. Much as he wished that he could simply ignore his relatives' demands, he knew that it would be foolish to try. And so, walking in, he began to clean off his filth-riddled hands. Asa flew quietly into the room, landing beside Harry on the counter. Harry nodded to Asa, smiling slightly at his new… companion?

"Asa, what did you mean when you said you wanted to be my companion? You didn't answer me before."

"Ah, yes. Simply, Harry, I would like to be by your side. As an ally and, if you will have me, as a friend to you. If you agree, your kind – wizarding kind – would refer to me as your 'familiar.'"

"Familiar? Like a black cat or something?" Harry thought, remembering an image of a witch he had seen once on Halloween decorations. "And… my friend? Really?" he asked timidly, uncertain that what Asa had said was true.

Asa laughed softly and replied in that smirking tone, "Yes, something like that. We would share a bond, Harry, one that could not be broken. And yes, I would be your friend, Harry."

Harry stared at the bird for a long beat, considering his answer. Truly, he found himself with no reason to disagree. "Do I just have to say yes? Is there anything special I have to do?"

Asa nodded slightly. "If you are certain, Harry, then you must rest your right hand on my head and speak these words: 'I, Harry James Potter, do accept you as my familiar. So mote it be.' I will speak my part, then we shall be magically bonded. I warn you, there will be a mark signifying that we have made this bond, and it may… sting."

Harry, hesitantly at first, began to reach out to Asa. He paused, firming his resolve, and confidently placed his hand upon the crown of Asa's head. "I, Harry James Potter, do accept you as my familiar. So mote it be."

"I do accept Harry James Potter as my Master for such time as he shall have me. So mote it be."

A flash of golden light came from where they touched, and a searing pain erupted on Harry's right wrist for only a moment before fading away. Harry hardly flinched; he had felt much worse before. As the light faded, Harry blinked his eyes and looked down at his hand. There, a band of scarlet was wrapped around his wrist that seemed to be made of interlocking symbols of some sort, with a flame resting in the center, under his palm. He stood there for a moment and realized that he suddenly felt… lighter, stronger, as though a fog had been lifted that he had not even known was there. He began to ask what had happened, but Asa answered his question before he had the chance to ask.

"It is done, Harry. The mark on your wrist is a symbol of our bond; the characters you see are runes, signifying that I shall be your guardian, companion, and friend. Do not worry about hiding the mark, it will only be visible to you and me, and anyone that you specifically wish to see it. What you are feeling now is our magic melding; it will make you stronger, magically and physically, and I will know when you are in danger and will be able to come to your aid if necessary."

Harry nodded, still entranced by the mark on his wrist and the power that he felt filling his body. Having a stray thought, he asked, "Asa? How is it that you know so much about me? I mean, about my parents, and my relatives. How did you even know to find me?"

"I am a phoenix, Harry, and we have a special affinity to the mind and the heart. As well, I have lived for a very, very long time. One does not live this long and see so much without seeing patterns emerge in the tangled web of time – what some might call fate, or destiny. I see that you have a destiny to fulfill, Harry, and that you are pure of heart. I chose to join you for these reasons."

"How long is a long time, exactly?"

"Oh, Harry. I cannot count the years that I have lived. We phoenixes, while not eternal, have existed for eons. We are born, we grow, and we die; only to be born anew from our ashes. I have seen nations rise and crumble to nothing, Harry. I have seen men come to power and be torn down time and time again. That is how long I have lived, and I have longer still to go."

Harry gazed in awe, coming to truly understand the honor that had been bestowed upon him. That a creature so ancient would choose him, to be tied to him this way, was overwhelming. He took a seat as he absorbed that information about his new – his first – friend.

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After several hours more work, and with some help from Asa in the form of heavy lifting and the occasional transportation by flame (which Harry found amazing – that his friend could move so much, and take things along with him when he flashed away), Harry had finally finished his chores with plenty of time left before his relatives would return.

He slumped into a chair in the kitchen, Asa beside him on the table, relaxing after his long day of work. Asa, at his request, had fetched him some food so that he could eat something without the Dursleys finding out. The two had chatted the whole day, with Harry asking a multitude of questions about every topic he could think of. He had found out about the kinds of magic that people like him – wizards! he still had trouble wrapping his head around that – could do; he had learned about how rare phoenixes were, and how much rarer it was for them to interact with a human; Asa had explained that he could disguise himself (in the form of an owl), so that he could stay by Harry's side in the wizarding world without drawing too much attention. As well, Asa had shown him that he could take Harry along with him when he popped away. At first, Harry had been hesitant to take his familiar's talon; after all, being engulfed in flames tends to be a less-than-pleasant experience. However, he trusted Asa to keep him safe, and eventually agreed to a short trip. Harry had asked that they visit the sea, since he had never before seen the ocean. The pair had arrived quietly upon a secluded stretch of sand, the vast water before them as the sun hung low in the sky. It was easily the highlight of Harry's life up to that moment.

Later in the afternoon, the pair heard the Dursleys' car pull into the drive. Asa flared out in plenty of time to avoid being seen by Harry's relatives. As they walked into the house, Vernon looked around to see that Harry had, in fact, completed all of the chores he had been given. Finding no fault, Vernon pulled a face somewhere between anger and disappointment that he could not find an excuse to punish Harry further. He gave a grunt and nodded at the raven-haired boy before telling him what he would be fixing the family for their dinner. Harry went to work, pulling out ingredients and supplies to fix the family their meal. Normally Harry would be exhausted after such a busy day, but this evening he was smiling inside at the fact that he had been in good company all day, finding that it had helped him immensely with getting things done. And it certainly didn't hurt that he was still feeling the effects of his new bond with his new friend and familiar.

After supper, where Harry had actually been given an almost-decently sized meal, he was allowed to go outside instead of being locked up as usual. It seemed that, between his accomplishments of the day and the fact that the Dursleys were all but exhausted from their outing, his relatives had decided to let him off easy for the night. Harry eagerly grabbed the opportunity to get out of the house, deciding to make his way to the library to read for a while. He selected books from the fantasy section, snickering a little at the irony; here he was, reading "fiction" and looking for information about the very real world he had been exposed to that day. As he read, Asa's voice occasionally cut in to explain what the stories had got right, what was completely ridiculous, and to give more detail on some of the more interesting characters who had actually existed in wizarding history. Harry was amazed to find out that Merlin had actually been a real person, and that Asa had once been in his company for a brief time as the great wizard had gone questing for a lost relic. As it turned out, the man had been a bit barmy, though very good-natured and quite powerful.

Harry eventually returned to Number Four before his relatives could get mad at him for being out late, and he went into his cupboard without complaint. He had never slept so well in his life.

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A/N: And there you have it! I'll be working on a Chapter 2 soon, and will have it posted as soon as it's done. Again, reviews and comments are appreciated. I'd prefer constructive criticism to flaming, but I'm quite good at ignoring people who have nothing to say worth hearing.