Disclaimer – Oh, sure! It's mine – NOT!! Harry Potter belongs strictly to J K Rowling. Warner Bros. owns the movies. I mess with the characters purely for my and my insanely gorgeous (not to mention incomparably brilliant) beta Novocain's entertainment. Much kudos goes out to Novocain for this chapter. I had a very hard time with the dialogue between Ned and his parents. I couldn't have done this without her.

Special mention, as promised, goes to Lemnicka for correctly guessing Ned's identity. Bonus points are giving for being the first person to review that is not my beta. (Hands over virtual!home-made sugar cookies and three dozen virtual balloons as prize)

Second special mention goes to AchillesMonkey, who generously took the time to point out the fact that I'd mixed up the chapter order when I tried to fix the grammar. (Hands over virtual!home-made fudge and giant "Thankyou!" card)

Chapter 4 – Meet the Parents

Ned wasn't nervous. No, he wasn't nervous, and he wasn't anxious either. He had always been very careful with his emotions. Too easily they could become a weapon to be used against him. Uncle had certainly demonstrated this fact. In fact, Uncle had taken every opportunity to very successfully prove to Ned that displaying emotions in front of people wasn't wise. He had learned while quite young how to push his emotions aside and focus on survival. It was something he'd had a lot of practice doing and thus was very good at. So why the hell was he currently vibrating off of his chair, unable to focus on any one thing for longer than seven seconds? Yes, seven seconds. He had counted.

Ned bit off another growl before he could vocalize it and slouched further in his chair. It had been three days since Joe had warned him about his parents' upcoming visit. He and the girls had come up with several fall back plans in case this meeting didn't look like it would go their way. Jenny kept telling Ned that if he got any negative vibes from or about 'those people' then they would find a way to lose them and meet up at Alex's old place. From there, they would go to Rey's house. Sarah insisted that they give the 'new parents' a chance. Ned had already decided that if they wouldn't even consider bringing the girls with them, they weren't worth the trouble. It was hard to trust people. Ned didn't care how hard it was not to trust people, either.

Of course, Ned liked to think he didn't trust people. Well, not all people. He trusted the girls. He trusted Alex. Perhaps the rule was merely restricted to grownups. But that wasn't quite it either. Rey was definitely a grownup; no one would argue otherwise. Rey held more of Ned's trust than the majority of his classmates at school. Ned and the girls even had their own rooms at Rey's place for whenever they were there. Rey even made sure to keep descent clothes for Ned and the girls in their closets. Nice, clean, whole, new clothes. In fact, Ned's favorite jacket was there. Uncle never had cared about clothing the three of them. Ned grimaced. Most of their clothes at Uncle's house were rejected donated clothing, salvaged from trashcans behind the Goodwill store in town. Ned and the girls had definitely come to appreciate the value of new clothes. They'd even come to appreciate the value in slightly used but freely and cheerfully given clothes, like those given to Ned, Sarah, and Jenny from their slightly more affluent friends at school.

He fiddled with the right leg of his new sweatpants and glanced at the door at the end of the hall. Joe had been kind enough to bring Ned sweatpants and a tee-shirt to wear so he wouldn't have to face his parents in the clothes the hospital provided. Joe had been extremely apologetic about bringing Ned only sweatpants when he found out what Ned wanted them for - Joe had thought Ned wanted them for his physical fitness exercises. Ned had half-smiled and explained that with the stress already present in such a situation, he preferred to wear something comfortable. As he sat there looking at the door and waiting for his parents to come in after their talk with the doctor, Ned couldn't help but wish that he'd let Joe find him something dressier as the police officer had first insisted.

He sighed. Wishing once again that his parents didn't have to speak with the doctor first, Ned returned to his earlier contemplation of the hall floor. Yep, three hundred and seventy-five floor tiles, one hundred and twenty-five of which were black and two hundred and fifty of which were white. It hadn't changed since the last three times he'd counted them. He wasn't bored though. No. Nor was he anxious. Despite feeling like he was vibrating off the seat of his chair, every time he'd picked up his cup of water to take a sip and check his nerves the cup was nicely stable – not trembling at all. The problem was that having the doctor speak with Ned's parents first and alone meant that they received their first impressions about him from the doctor and from a doctor's point of view. It revoked Ned's ability to control their first impression. Now they would see a wounded and deeply scarred little boy first, and whatever Ned wanted to portray second – maybe.

What-ifs weren't Ned's favorite conversation topic. He usually thought them time consuming and worthless. To Ned's profound irritation, he found it very difficult to avoid that topic now. He was given reprieve, however, when the door opened at the end of the hall. Two people, a man and a woman, entered with the doctor. The man was tall with black hair and hazel eyes, and the lady was slightly shorter with long auburn locks and green eyes. They both appeared pasty and upset, though Ned thought he saw a hint of...was that hope in their expressions?

"Horton Rook." Ned winced as the doctor used his 'proper' name. He'd managed to convince Joe and all the nurses to use the shortened version of his nickname, but the doctor wouldn't budge. "I'd like to introduce you to James and Lily Potter."

The pale couple smiled shakily at Ned. Ned had to assume the doctor had done an unnecessarily thorough job of detailing all of his injuries, past and present. The scars on his back, shoulders, and chest that were a result of his uncle's 'tender' care had been of extreme interest to the medical staff. They had also been intensely interested in the scars around Ned's waist, wrists, ankles, abdomen, and throat. Of course, the nurses and doctors were extremely careful not to bring the topic up after the first time they'd asked about it. Ned had not reacted well. However, the medical staff had been far more insistent, not to mention subtle, about the issue of Ned and the girls' extreme gauntness. There was no way the annoying doctor had refrained from telling Ned's new 'folks' all the gory details of his previous care. He sincerely hoped they didn't decide he needed therapy.

The lady - No, Mrs. Potter - stepped forward and knelt in front of the chair Ned was still sitting stiffly in. They gazed steadily into each other's eyes. Green met green, each searching for answers to their unanswerable questions. Mrs. Potter's gaze was gentle and warm. Ned had encountered plenty of grownups whose gazes were harsh and cruel, buy even with this short encounter, Ned felt sure this woman meant him no harm.

She smiled suddenly and her entire face lit up.

"Harry!" she breathed. It was his name. It had to be. He tipped his head to one side and found he liked the name. He'd always loathed the old name he'd been taught to believe was his. Have you any idea what people can do with the name Horton Rook? Rook the Crook, Horton Who, Horton the Elephant. Ned truly hated Dr. Seuss some days. Uncle had often shortened it to Hore. Or was it whore? He shook off the thought and snorted mentally; he would have to start thinking of himself with his new name. Of course, he hadn't chosen Ned as his nickname. He preferred the name Nedjwi. The trouble was that nearly everyone who knew the nickname always shortened it to Ned. Even his sisters - no, not my sisters - did, to his frustration and amusement. The only one who ever called him Nedjwi was Alex. And Ned couldn't... Harry shook away the thought – and the memories.

Harry smiled hesitantly back at her. "Hi, Mrs. Potter." He wasn't quite sure what else to call her. He wasn't quite comfortable calling her 'Mum', and even if he knew her first name, he felt it wasn't respectful enough. Uncle had ensured Harry's eternal outward respect for adults.

He never could do anything about Harry's inward respect.

The staring contest was interrupted by James' hand landing on his wife's shoulder. Harry followed the hand up the arm, past the shoulder to the man's face. There were worry lines around the man's shadowed eyes, and he carried himself in a very solemn manner. It almost looked like something had sucked all the happiness from his life, leaving a vacuum in its wake. However, it seemed the man was genuinely happy to see him. There was a tiny spark in the center of his eyes and when James smiled it lifted half the lines from his face, making him look years younger. It was a very unusual situation for Harry. With few exceptions, most people did not light up at the mere sight of him.

"Hello, Harry." James' voice was rough. The emotion contained in two short words boggled the mind. It contained welcome, anxiety, exhaustion, warmth, stress, and love. Harry's answering smile was hesitant but genuine. He couldn't quite get a verbal answer to form past the tightness in his throat. He wanted this to go well. He'd always wanted parents. This desire warred with the lessons from Uncle that taught against trusting adults of any sort. Harry wasn't sure which side of him would win out in the end, but there was plenty of time before that was decided.

"The doctors tell us you're eager to get out of here." Mrs. Potter's voice shook as she spoke. "I think we'd all be more comfortable if we continued this conversation at home. Besides, I have a nurse friend that I would like to have over so she can give you one more look-over, if you're willing. Do you have anything here that you'd like to bring with you?"

Harry caste his eyes to the floor. He really didn't want to use his parents' obviously raw emotions to get his way, but he really couldn't see any other way. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I, uh - " He stopped. He couldn't manipulate them like this. It wasn't right. Neither is leaving the girls to rot in an orphanage. A hand abruptly came into his line of vision, reaching for his cheek. Reflex and years of living with his uncle caused Harry to jerk away from the approaching open palm, stammering apologies.

"Oh, Harry!" The voice contained so much sadness that it made Harry want to cry. He felt himself drawn into a pair of warm, comforting arms. It was such a wonderful feeling, being held. It didn't happen often. It showed too much weakness and was too similar to being held down. Harry snapped out of his 'moment' and pulled himself carefully from his mother's hold. She let him go with obvious reluctance, watching him with deepest concern. "What was it you were going to ask?"

Her son (her son!) started, "What's going to happen to Jenny and Sa-Sarah?" His voice cracked at the end, and her heart went out to him. "They're - they've been my sisters all my life, and I... I love them." Lily didn't even have to consider - James could go have fun with his broomstick if he tried to argue with her. The girls were coming with them.

She turned slightly to look over her shoulder at her husband. James tore his gaze away from their son to look briefly at her expression. He returned his gaze to his son. "I'll take care of it." Harry tilted his head slightly to one side; that had sounded like a promise. He'd learned very early in life that promises weren't always to be trusted.

Mrs. Potter smiled up at Harry from her kneeling position in front of him. "Don't worry. James will make sure the girls come home with us. He has a gift with medical professionals. Something to do with how he bats his big, brown eyes at the nurses seems to do wonders with getting his way. It's worked ever since we were at Hogw -" She cut herself off briefly, then restarted, "-since we were at school together."

"Hogwarts," Harry whispered. The doctor had long since left the three of them alone to talk; when, Harry hadn't noticed. It never hurt to be extra conscious when dealing with the Statute of Secrecy, however. "You and Mr. Potter went to Hogwarts." His mother's eyes searched his face. He guessed she was wondering about his knowledge of the magical world, since Harry and the girls obviously didn't go to Hogwarts. "The girls – Sarah, Jenny, and I – we all go to St. Marvin's School for Underprivileged Witches and Wizards. We'll all be starting our fifth year this coming September."

Mrs. Potter smiled tremulously back at him. "I'm glad. Perhaps when we get home we can talk about the possibility of transferring you and the girls to Hogwarts this fall." Harry glanced away from his mother's face – her hopeful eyes. While hardly the best school, leaving St. Marvin's also meant leaving the friends he had there. Why did it matter where he got his education, so long as he received one? "I, uh. I'd like it if you were there. I teach Arithmancy at Hogwarts. A-after all these years, um, I'd really like to have you close by for a – well, for a while." Harry smiled at his mother. It was a nice feeling to be wanted, to have a guardian desire the opportunity to be with you and keep you close. He'd have to talk it over with the girls. Maybe, just maybe, they'd all be able to go to Hogwarts this fall.

End Chapter 4

An – There is still an opportunity to guess the identities for Sarah and Jenny. (Hints available upon request – I do check email sent to the address on my author's page.) More virtual!prizes and special mentions will be given to the new guessers as well as early confirmation or reply by email (provided the reviewer is logged in or offers email address). I try to respond to each review and, so far, I've managed to succeed. (Grins.) The next chapter may not be available before Christmas, but I'll try to have another done close to New Years.