Back to where it all begins. I cut the chapter in half becuase I felt like I was stuffing too much in one chapter.

Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Chapter 2

Seven years ago

"Boy! Bring the mail!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon!"

A boy of 10 years old trudged down the wallpapered hallway of Number 4 Private Drive. The mail was resting under the gold mail slot at the door, so the onyx haired child scooped all the letters into his tiny hands.

He flicked through the mail quickly, not expecting anything for himself but just out of simple childish curiosity. His bright green eyes landed on the fanciest letter in the pile, probably the fanciest letter he's seen ever.

It was in a thin white envelope with dark blues and golds circling the edges of it. In the middle of it read:

Hadrial Jameson Potter

Private Drive Number 4

Surrey

England

On the other side, a coat of arms was printed on the top right corner.

Harry had never heard of a Hadrial or Jameson before, he only knew his name to be Harry James Potter. He didn't know if the address was intentional or a mistake but he decided to pocket the letter anyway.

"Boy!" Vernon shouted again and Harry scrambled to the dining table to hand his uncle the other letters.

"You're going to Miss Figgs today, freak. Dudders will be staying at his friends house while Vernon and I have a business date." His Aunt Petunia sneered down at him. "No funny business," she practically hissed into his ear as she dragged him out of the house and to Miss Figgs' house down the street.

Harry didn't respond, he didn't need to. Aunt Petunia didn't like being spoken to unless she was asking him a question.

Petunia rapped on the door the same way she rapped on his cupboard. It only took a few moments before an elderly woman with grey hair and a hunched back to open the door. With her, two cats came to the door, nuzzling the door frame and her legs.

"Ah, Harry dear. Come on in, come on in." Miss Figg scooched over some so the petite boy could slide past her and into the home.

A dozen different cats came up to Harry, begging to be pet and he obliged. Sitting in the middle of the floor being climbed on and meowed at from all sides, he pet each cat when he could, listening to Miss Figg have a few more words with his aunt before she closed the door.

The older lady hobbled past him and to the kitchen, calling out behind her, "Harry dear, can you feed the cats?"

"Yes, Miss Figg."

As Harry did as he was asked, Miss Figg could only ponder on the quiet child. He was so small and quiet for his age, rarely spoke more than to answer questions. She didn't like the Dursley's, but Albus had said it was the safest place for him, so she couldn't do anything except watch after him from afar.

After feeding the cats, Harry sat on the couch that stunk of cabbage and cat. In his pocket, the letter crinkled. He'd forgotten that it was in there.

Pulling it out, he ran his fingers over the raised embroidering. He slid his finger under the lip of the envelope carefully, not wanting to damage the beautiful letter. Two things slipped out and onto his open palm. A folded page of the same white and blue and gold and a brochure.

He looked at the brochure first. A picture of a large cathedral-like building on a large plot of flat grassy grounds covered the front. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was sprawled in beautiful lettering above the picture. The next page had a picture of a circle of little cottages and a large stone fountain in the middle. The last page had a small paragraph reading:

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is located in West France on the Bay of Biscay. The school is the second largest in the United Kingdom and boasts a beautiful cathedral setting with magical paintings and large grounds. The school hosts the most classes available in Magical Europe ranging from dueling to blood magics to political and financial studies, with notable figures in wizarding society making an appearance to teach and help students find their career.

Harry couldn't quite understand what he was reading. Was this a joke? Magical schools and wizarding societies?

He decided to read the letter.

In soft loops the letter began:

Dear H. J. Potter,

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic would like to welcome you to the most versatile school in the United Kingdom. You have been selected to join this years classes as you have almost reached the age of eleven. If you wish to join Beauxbatons, you will be required to attend a summer before classes begin to learn the correct way to handle a wand, how to prepare a proper potions station, what magic you are predestined for, and how to take care of your new living quarters. This will also be a great chance to meet your year mates!

If you plan to attend, please tap the yes box on the letter by May 25th.

Signed Madame Maxime

(If you are an out-of-country transfer, a representative will be able to meet you at your residence to transport you to the school)

Supplies, excluding a wand, will not need to be gathered before-hand.

-YES, I WOULD LIKE TO ATTEND -NO, I WOULD NOT LIKE TO ATTEND

Harry stared at the two pieces of paper before him. Disbelieving the complex story before him. Obviously this had to be some kind of joke, a cruel and elaborate joke that the Dursley's had obviously planned.

But a burning desire curled around his heart. Tight and fiery, it heated his chest and mind with a hope. A hope he was afraid to acknowledge. Maybe this was real, maybe all his freakishness could be explained by one word. Magic. Maybe he wasn't actually a freak.

Harry jumped when Miss Figg turned the corner from the kitchen. He stuffed the papers behind his back quickly, a possessive fear of her taking it from him pressing into his thoughts. She couldn't see it, couldn't take it. It didn't matter if it wasn't real, it was his.

Miss Figg merely brushed through into the hallway, probably to grab something, leaving Harry alone again. His green eyes followed her, caution hidden in them.

A warmth shot through his left hand and arm, the one holding the papers. Tingling followed as he yanked his arm from behind his back. Looking for the cause, he saw that the letter had changed. Different words greeted him on the page.

You have selected:

-Yes, I would like to attend

Thank you, we look forward to seeing you soon!

A representative will meet you on May 25th.

Harry gasped. It was real! There was no other explanation for the way the printed words on the page changed to new words. And oh no… this school probably costs money… how's he gonna pay for this? Or, worse, explain it to Aunt Petunia?

May 25th was only five days away. That wasn't enough time to come up with a plan!

May 25th came quicker than Harry could've thought.

He hadn't dared say anything to Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. He didn't even have time to, with school being out for the summer his aunt and uncle worked him to the bone. His chore list was triple the size it was while he was at school.

Right now, he was working elbow deep in the garden, at the hottest time of day. He was sweating through his threadbare shirt and he hadn't been allowed to grab a bottle of water before being shoved into the heat. A streak of dirt covered his forehead where he'd wiped away sweat.

Distracted by his task, Harry didn't notice when a sleek black car pulled up to the curb between Number 4 and Number 6. He did notice when the car door schliked closed; turning, he watched a woman dressed in a grey two piece suit make her way up the drive. Her pretty blonde hair was curled into a knot at the top of her head, red painted her lips and dark glasses covered her eyes.

She seemed to falter in her walk when she noticed him kneeling in the dirt to the side of the house. She changed direction from her original path, instead walking over to him.

She kneeled beside him, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

"Bonjour, petit monsieur. My name is Adele Sinclair. Do you live here?" Her voice was soft and pretty like her with a funny accent.

Harry stared at the nice lady for a little before final nodding.

A smile split her red lips, "That's good. And what is your name?"

Harry shifted a little, uncertain. But the warmth he felt coming from her reassured him some. "Harry Potter, ma'am." He whispered.

She'd leaned in to hear him, so he didn't see the frown that crossed her features. Harry Potter? But this boy looked barely six! He was so small, and his voice was raspy as if he hadn't had anything to wet his throat in a while. And how odd that he would go by Harry when his birth name was Hadrial.

She leaned back, and instead of letting her confusion show, she simply continued to smile. He was a cute boy, if too small. Bright green eyes and messy black hair, a cute button nose and a round face.

"Well, Monsieur Harry, I am the representative for Beauxbatons," she watched as his eyes went wide with recognition.

"Um, Miss," Harry began nervously. He didn't want to lose this chance! Even if it was still somehow a joke, he wanted it to be real. But he couldn't pay for it and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would never have it!

"Oui?" She looked down at him quizzically, making sure she stayed open and welcoming. If she was right, this boy would take any loud voice or uncomfortable situation and immediately close up.

Harry paused, looking at her in confusion at the odd word.

"Ah, my apologies, it means 'yes?'" She'd have to teach him the advanced language spell soon.

"I… I can't pay to go to the school. And my Aunt and Uncle would never pay for it for me either," his voice, if possible, became even quieter.

"Harry, were you ever taught about magic? Or about your family?" Adele couldn't believe that Harry didn't think he could afford to go to Beauxbatons. Something was wrong here, something was very wrong.

Harry shifted so he was standing, still barely tall enough to be able to meet her eyes while she was kneeling. "No ma'am. I didn't know about magic until I got my letter, I didn't even think the letter was real! But my Aunt and Uncle did tell me that my Mom and Dad died in a car accident."

Harry began to panic. Was it bad that he didn't know magic? Would the kind lady decide he wasn't worth it? He couldn't help it! He didn't know anything other than how to do chores and how to pretend to do badly so that Dudley could be better than him.

Adele could see when Harry began to close off. His bright green eyes began to darken and he refused to make eye contact with her. A car crash! A car crash killed the two strongest magicals of their year.

Adele couldn't resist pulling the boy into her arms, and when he stiffened so tightly that she thought he might as well be stone, her fears were confirmed. Hadrial Potter was abused. There could be no denying it.

"How about we go talk to your aunt and uncle, and when that's all taken care of, I'll tell you the truth about your parents. Does that sound good?" She released him to stand up and dust off her pant suit before reaching a perfectly manicured hand out to him.

It took him a moment, but he finally grabbed onto her hand.

French:

Bonjour, petit monsieur. Hello, little mister.

Oui? Yes?