I'm afraid I fell off the face of the earth. Maybe the muse will be a little more compliant from now on. Oh! And in case anyone was confused Mr. Black is not Sirius, just an ordinary, kind muggle…

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and magic belongs to JK Rowling ):

Chapter Three: Homeless

The end-of-school bell tolled loudly, signifying freedom for everyone. Harry packed his things slowly, not really wanting to return home.

"Harry, would you come over here?" Mr. Black asked quietly, beckoning to his desk. "I noticed some…discrepancies…between the treatment of you and your cousin today. You live together, correct?"

"Yeah…" Harry looked down. His second-grade teacher had noticed also, called in Vernon and Petunia, and Harry had been punished at home for a month, for embarrassing them.

"I'm concerned, Harry. Children living in the same house should not be treated differ—"

"Please don't say anything!" Harry begged, looking up at his new teacher, "it's not a big deal, really."

Mr. Black frowned, and sighed. "I suppose I can let it go for now. But I will have to inform them of the little incident today." He paused, uncomfortable. "And, Harry, I want you to know—if you need anyone to confide in, please talk to me."

"Boy!" Harry heard his uncle's voice shout through his cupboard door. "You come out here right now!"

Harry sighed and put his stub of a pencil down on his math homework. Rubbing the bridge or his nose slightly, the boy slipped his crooked glasses back on and pushed open the unlatched cupboard door.

"Yes, uncle?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Do you know who just called me?" Petunia asked shrilly, seeming a mixture of angry and embarrassed. "Your teacher, that's who! First day of school, and I get a call from the teacher!"

"I knew you were bad news," Vernon said loudly, before Harry could protest. "We should have made you take second grade again."

"But I didn't—" Harry began, holding his hands up in confusion.

"Oh, I know you did this," Vernon accused, pointing a pudgy finger at Harry. "You and your freaky ways…you got Dudley into trouble on his very first day of third grade!"

"My poor little Duddikins," Petunia crooned, hugging her large son who had come to watch the Harry-bashing.

"I didn't do anything! Dudley tried to—"

"Lying again, huh? Well, I'm certainly not as stupid as your teacher! I won't fall for your lies!" Vernon declared.

"You know what Mr. Black accused my dear little Duddikins of doing? LYING!" Petunia sniffed disdainfully. "He should have known better, but you and your…strangeness…" Petunia pursed her lips, as if she were sucking on a very sour lemon.

"We feed you, give you a roof to sleep under, and this is how you repay us? Is that it?" Vernon growled, blotchy red spots beginning to appear on his face.

"I already told you—"

"LIES!" Vernon cut Harry off. "Again with the lies! We know it's your fault! We know!"

"He stole my lunch!" Harry protested.

"Duddikins wouldn't do anything like anything like that," Petunia said sharply, glaring at Harry.

"Exactly!" Vernon added loudly, slamming his fist into his palm.

"Listen to me!" Harry snapped back, losing his temper. "I didn't DO anything!"

A small silence followed Harry's outburst.

"OUT!" Vernon roared, red blotches becoming purple ones. "OUT! NOW!"

Harry stared at his uncle, not quite processing the statement.

"I WILL NOT HAVE ANYONE SPEAK TO ME WITH THAT TONE IN MY HOUSE! GET OUT!"

Harry's bright green eyes flashed before he turned sharply and ran out the front door, taking nothing with him.

About an hour later, Harry's stomach complained loudly.

The raven-haired third-grader sat on the side of the road, staring blankly at the black asphalt. The sun had begun to set and the warmth of day was beginning to fade. Rubbing his stomach slightly, Harry stood up and began to walk towards the nearest cluster of buildings. His stride sped into a run as a light sprinkle of rain turned into a downpour. Scurrying office workers sprinted to their cars under dull-colored umbrellas. Dark, heavy clouds covered the descending sun and a distant boom of thunder echoed in Harry's ears.

Seeing that many stores were closed already, Harry ducked under the awning of an out-of-place pub. The smell of food and flicker of flames lured the wet and hungry boy into the pub.

As soon as he stepped inside, his clothes seemed—almost magically—to dry. Blinking through his glasses, he stared at all the people around him, everyone dressed in varying shades of robes. Distractedly thinking about how strange everyone appeared, Harry noticed an abnormally large figure, a giant man with scraggly, bushy hair all over his face and a dinged-up umbrella. The large man was talking animatedly to a woman propped up against a brick wall. When she turned around and tapped on the wall a couple times, the bricks opened to reveal a whole city.

Harry stared, openmouthed. A whole city was behind the wall? And how did the wall open in the first place?

Hunger forgotten for the moment, Harry watched closely as the large man tapped at the brick wall. Seeing the opportunity, Harry scurried after the giant and made it into the city just before the wall sealed itself shut.

Harry's mind froze in awe as he saw all the magic around him. Not knowing what was going on, he wondered if perhaps he had gone crazy and was imagining everything, from the pub to the strange city. With the innocence of an unworried child, he meandered along the road, mind soaking in everything he could see. Could that be…a broomstick? What was a broomstick doing in a display? Harry walked up to the glass to examine the very shiny, floating broomstick.

"Isn't she beautiful?" a blonde boy about his age asked, looking awestruck. Harry glanced around. Was the boy talking to him?

"Er...what?" Harry elegantly replied.

"The Nimbus 1500, of course!" the blonde pointed at the shiny, floating broomstick on display.

Harry's face scrunched up in confusion. "What's so exciting about a cleaning tool?"

"You're funny!" the other boy said, laughing. Harry felt bewildered. "Hey, my name is Draco. Draco Malfoy. Who are you?"

The Dursleys having always told Harry that being a Potter was shameful, Harry blanched and said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm Harry Black. Nice to meet you."

Draco's eyes widened as the name struck a chord. "Ooh, my mum is a Black! We might be cousins!" His gaze drifted upwards. "Hey, there's my mum now!"

Harry saw a tall, thin woman with long blonde hair striding towards them, a frown on her face. "What have I told you about running off?" she demanded, grabbing Draco's hand. "You could be kidnapped or—"

"I made a new friend, mum!" Draco said, pointing at Harry excitedly. "He's quite funny, and he's a Black."

Narcissa's sharp gaze passed over Harry vaguely, lighting upon his dark hair. "Hm. That's nice, Draco. But we have to go home now, we have a dinner at the Parkinsons to attend soon." Draco's mother whisked him away, leaving Harry alone.

Harry gave the shiny broomstick—a Nimbus 1500, Draco had called it—one last curious glance before he continued walking down the street. His stomach grumbled in complaint once, but Harry was no stranger to hunger. He came upon a massive, old-looking building at what seemed to be the end of the street. "Gringotts Wizarding Bank" its marble sign proclaimed. He stood there, appreciating the large marble columns and how official it looked compared to the local HSBC (1) which Uncle Vernon always went to.

Harry was suddenly barreled into by a rather large woman, and fell over on the ground. Ouch. The woman looked horrified.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? I didn't see you there, oh no…"

"It's okay."

"No, it is most definitely not alright! I am so sorry." The woman paused, looking confused. "Where are your parents?"

"…" Harry wasn't sure what to say at that point. "Well…"

"You didn't run away, did you?" the woman asked, frowning at him. "What's your name?"

"I don't have any parents," he replied flatly, not wanting to be taken back to the Dursleys.

"Oh…I'm sorry," the woman said (again), a faint flush creeping up her neck. "Why don't I take you to Mary's House, and we'll see what they say." She grabbed Harry's hand and, with a pop, they disappeared.

After an unpleasant, squished-through-a-tube sort of feeling, Harry found himself in front of a large gate with "Mary's House" written boldly across it. "Come along, they will help you here," the woman said, opening the gate. Harry followed her obediently, through the gate and into a tall, plain building.

A tired social worker greeted them from behind a large table as they entered.

"Excuse me, I found a child wandering around Diagon Alley today," the fat woman said, pointing to Harry. "He says he's an orphan. I thought maybe you would know what to do?"

The social worker yawned. "Thanks for bringing him here, we can do the rest." As the fat woman left, the social worker beckoned Harry closer. "Hello there. Here at Mary's House, we take in children, no questions asked. Though…it would be nice to know your name. I'm Cherie."

"Harry." Said boy replied, torn between feeling lucky and feeling overwhelmed. "My name is Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Cherie replied, smiling slightly. "Welcome to Mary's House. We don't have that many kids here right now, but I'm sure you will meet someone you like. Why don't I take you to the residence floor, and have you choose a room?"

Thus, Harry began his life in the wizarding world.

1)HSBC is some British bank. I'm American, so I'm not certain about this.