A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

FOUR

Temporary Residence of Harry Potter

London, England, United Kingdom

August 14, 1995 ACE

Harry stared at the screen of the portable computer in front of him. The moment that he returned from the trip to Diagon Alley, he told himself that the first thing that he would do was to compose a report for the Secretary of Magic.

It was, he reminded himself, part of his official mission, and he had to admit that there are a lot of choice words – most of them curses, not that he would ever admit that to his aunt – that he wanted to add to the report that he was supposed to send, but the problem was while he already know the words that he wanted to use, he still had not started with the report.

Instead, for the last two hours, he had found himself staring at the empty screen of his portable computer without, however, truly staring at the empty screen, for it appeared that his mind had superimposed the image of Hermione between his eyes and the empty display. No matter how many times he shook his head in the past hour – or two – that image had not banished.

A snort came from within Harry as he reminded himself that back in Columbia, he had never ran out of dance partners in the annual parties that the Academy of Magic celebrate, seemingly once every three weeks to one month. He had also had one girlfriend before, a former classmate of his with whom he broke up just two weeks before the end of his final year in the Academy because she was moving to the west coast and because Harry – disrespectful as it may be – had grown tired of her.

Harry just cannot imagine spending the rest of his life with a woman who would agree with his every suggestion as if it was a command. Harry supposed that it was to be expected, after all, his first role model of a relationship was his aunt and uncle and while his aunt would never contradict his uncle in public, in private, it was a different story.

A soft sigh escaped from the lips of Harry as he forced himself to return to the present. His fingers flexed a little as he positioned them over the keyboard of his computer as if he was preparing to press the keys, but he had been repeating this exercise close to more than two dozen times in the past two hours alone. He knew what he wanted to write, he just could not find the proper way to write it. He would not be an idiot and send a report to the Secretary of Magic of the United States that begin with, 'this place sucks," unless he had a wish to be sent back home, and having met Hermione, that was the last thing that Harry wanted.

The mere mention of the name of the girl that he had met this morning caused Harry to pause once more. There was something about her that intrigued him, something about her that was practically begging him to come and find out what that something is, and Harry James Potter had never been one to decline an invitation, not when it was couched in the way that Hermione gave it to him.

Harry shook his head and once more forced himself to return to the present. For a few moments, he found himself staring at the screen again, and while the image of Hermione was still there, he had managed to ignore the image long enough for him to wonder if he should contact his aunt in order to speak with her about this. Much as Harry loves his uncle, he knew that the man just is not the right man to speak with regarding this problem.

Of course, the fact that Harry used the nickname, 'Little Kitten' when he referred to Hermione was practically mimicked from his uncle who uses the same nickname for his aunt when he thinks that the two of them are alone. Harry, who used to sneak around a lot in their New York residence when he was younger, had caught his uncle using that nickname more than enough times.

Harry found his head slumped on the desk in front of him – on the surface of which, his portable computer rested – as his thoughts once more turned to Hermione. He had dropped her off at the front of the driveway of her modestly-sized house located on the outskirts of London, but because of time constraints, he had politely refused her offer that he come inside and meet her parents – and Harry knew that her parents were home because he had spotted two cars on the parking garage adjacent to the house.

From there, it had been a relatively short trip – just under an hour – to travel back through the streets of London and into this temporary house. Although it was made to appear as if it was a house that his guardians had managed to find for him to use while he was in the British Isles, Harry knew enough to ascertain that this house is actually a safe house, though a safe house intended for whom and for what purpose, he was still trying to ascertain.

From the fact that he was sent to a safe house, Harry knew that it is not only the American Secretary of Magic and the American Department of Magic that were watching him and counting on him. For all that the young man knew, he was probably sent here by the Central Intelligence Agency, and it was quite possible that the American President was aware that he was here, though the latter was mostly conjecture brought about by the fact that his uncle frequently refer to the President not only by his first name, but with familiarity that seem to indicate that his uncle was a personal friend of the – arguably – most powerful man in the world.

Harry slowly lifted his head off of the surface of the desk and a few moments later found him once more staring at the blank screen. The portable computer had practically turned itself off, as if it was bored with the idleness of Harry, and seeing the blank screen seemed to inspire a rare lazy attitude within Harry. A sigh escaped from his lips before his right hand reached for the back of the screen of the portable computer.

Harry was about to pull the screen down and thereby shut down the computer, but at the moment that his hand touched the back of the monitor, the screen lighted up. At the upper right corner of the screen, there was a flashing icon that demanded the attention of Harry.

With the laziness almost already set in within his very bones, Harry reacted slowly, but once he saw the flashing icon – more importantly, once he saw the address that was flashing below the flashing icon – every ounce of laziness that threatened to sap his strength banished and a renewed sense of energy sprung from well within him, as if the laziness in his bones had instantly transformed into a pepper-up potion.

Almost immediately after he saw the flashing icon, he sat up straight, his chin held high and his eyes alert. Once he was sure that he would not be mistaken as slacking off, he clicked on the flashing icon.

Instantly, a huge rectangle dominated his screen and by pressing the maximize button, Harry was able to manipulate the said box so that it was the only thing in his screen. Inside the box, Harry can easily distinguish the features of his uncle, despite the fact that he was probably more than a thousand kilometers west of his current position. In fact, he was so far that Harry could see that there was still enough natural light outside the yacht – and Harry knew that his uncle was aboard the yacht – for Harry to ascertain that the sun had probably just set in the time zone where his uncle is.

"Uncle," Harry greeted his uncle, the smile on his face genuine. It might have been less than a week since he last saw the man, but Harry – though he would not admit it – misses his uncle.

His earliest memory of the man had been him still crawling on the floor as he desperately tried to get his attention. Although Alex York had been a strict father figure to Harry, never hesitating to punish him if he had done something wrong, he had never failed to show the proper care and love to Harry. Alex might not have showered Harry with love, but it was still there nonetheless.

Aside from the fact that his uncle was one-half of the couple that raised him, Harry was very grateful to the man. He had been told since he was young that he and his uncle are not related by blood, but Alex still took him in, and had been Harry's first teacher when it comes to magic and defense. Back in the United States, it was not uncommon for Harry and Alex to don sparring gear every weekend so that they can practice martial arts.

Alex smiled as he inclined his head toward the direction of his nephew, or more accurately, toward the direction of the small camera that was located above the screen of his own portable computer, "Hello, Harry," he said a few moments later.

For as long as Harry could remember, his uncle had never referred to him as 'nephew'. Harry never asked him why, though he had long suspected that it was because his uncle was – subconsciously or otherwise – reminding himself that Harry and he are not really related by blood. Of course, the omission did not bother Harry as he knew that his uncle refer to him as his nephew whenever Harry is out of earshot.

A few moments of silence descended between the two men as they both tried to find something to talk about. Harry suspected that his uncle made the call in order to check up on him, but he also knew that Alex York would not be the first one who would bring that up.

Aware of this, Harry decided to open the conversation, "Where's Aunt Emma?" he asked.

A small smile came across the face of his uncle as the name of his wife was mentioned. Harry had long noted that his uncle would always smile whenever the name of his aunt would be brought up, and it does not matter who it was that brought her name up. Harry was told – by old friends of his uncle, whom he had met before – that his uncle would have the same reaction even if it was an enemy who brought her name up, and even if it was only to insult Emma Spencer-York. Of course, those same friends claimed that insulting Emma Spencer-York was the last thing that many enemies of his uncle in the past had done before they found out for themselves if afterlife existed or not.

The earliest memory that Harry has of his aunt had been Emma Spencer-York singing him to sleep. That lullaby that his foster mother had used to charm him to sleep had been ingrained deeply in the mind of Harry and would probably still cause him to be drowsy should it ever come out of her mouth again. Fortunately, she was the only capable of singing that particular lullaby.

"She's tied up at the moment," Alex replied, the smile on his face almost a smirk. Harry fought the urge to frown as he found himself wondering just how literal the last words of his uncle really are. Harry knew enough of the personal life of his aunt and uncle to know that they role-play in the bedroom, though how far they had taken that role-play, Harry does not – and quite frankly, does not want to – know.

Harry, aware of where this conversation might possibly go, made the decision to trek back to territory that he can be comfortable with, "I've received your letter," he informed his uncle, a frown came across his face – and he noted that his uncle smiled at the sight of it – before he continued, "Uncle, I am nearly fifteen years old, can you not trust me to not get into trouble for once?"

Alex smiled, and as typical of the man, he went straight to the point, "No," he replied bluntly and to the point.

The frown on the face of Harry deepened, but whatever it was that his uncle wanted to say was not enough, "The last time that your aunt and I took that chance, we found ourselves in the office of the Principal for High School in Columbia," Alex added, and in a more serious tone, he concluded, "it was a good thing that your principal was an old classmate of mine, who knows what he would have done."

Harry grimaced in his seat as he was reminded of that incident. He fought the urge to remind his uncle that it was not his fault that one of his classmates decided to not only sneak into the female dormitories with the intention of raiding their wardrobes, but also to do so after they had emptied four bottles of local whiskey. To make matters worse, it was Harry who procured the whiskey, and he got it from the personal supply of his uncle after his uncle had trusted him with the keys to the cellar under their house.

Needless to say, they were caught. In fairness, Harry puking his stomach on the front porch of the female dormitory was not the best thing to do if one wanted to sneak into the male-restricted zone. Come to think of it, sneaking through the front door was also not something that would earn them praises from those who inhabit the criminal underworld.

The punishment that Harry received from the school was detention for one whole month – apparently, the principal agreed with his uncle that because the actual raid was not consummated, Harry and his friends could only be punished for being drunk inside campus – but that was nothing compared to the disappointment that his uncle had shown to him.

To Harry, the fact that his uncle refused to speak with him unless absolutely necessary for the next whole month was worse, and it was compounded by the fact that he was serving detentions in school as well. In hindsight, it was a good thing that his uncle was not speaking with him; he shuddered as he thought about how his uncle would have beaten him in sparring if they had continued with that arrangement.

To top it all off, Alex took Emma to Britain at the end of that month and Harry was left behind in New York as his final punishment. He had looked forward to returning to Britain as well, but now that he is here, he had to admit that he should probably be thankful that his uncle left him behind.

Harry had no desire of bringing that particular incident into the limelight again, so he decided against continuing this particular path of the conversation, but with no topic in his head, he was forced to take in the next comment of his uncle without an effective rejoinder, "This time, if you pull something as stupid as that, I doubt me knowing your principal would have any effect, you would be causing an international incident, after all," before Alex smiled.

Harry fidgeted at his seat, and despite the fact that his uncle was more than two days away – by boat, of course – Harry could feel the implied threat coming from him. With no effective rejoinder, Harry was forced to agree with his uncle.

With a nod, Harry said, "I would try to remember that,"

"Make sure that you do," Alex replied. When he said his first words, the smile was on his face, but that smile quickly disappeared as he added, "We cannot afford to be sidetracked by some simple juvenile tendencies, Harry, you have a mission to fulfill, and I am not talking about this stupid 'auditing' mission that Christian sent you to."

Harry nodded, "I remember the mission, uncle," Harry replied, his tone insisting but his manner befitting one who is sure that he would be able to accomplish the mission that was given to him. For a few moments, Harry thought that the hard eyes of his uncle had softened, but it was gone before Harry could confirm it and that led him to conclude that it was probably an illusion brought about by the lights and the delay in the data transfer.

This method of communication, after all, was only in its experimental stage.

"It would not be easy," Alex commented a few moments later. There was a faraway look on his face, as if he was remembering something, but before Harry could comment on that – and he knew that that is the only way that he could ask his uncle because posing a direct question would be met by his uncle with a question of his own – Alex continued, "A lot of eyes would be focused on you when you get to that castle, Harry, and you might not find the time to concentrate on your real objective, not when you are supposed to be pretending to be a student as well,"

"I would lead them on a merry chase," Harry promised his uncle. Below the desk, his fists tightened as he made a promise to himself that he would not disappoint his uncle – seeing his uncle disappointed at him once was more than enough.

For a few moments, Alex held his tongue. The silence that his uncle had initiated grew uncomfortable for Harry and he was about to open his mouth to say something and break the silence, but his uncle chose that moment to speak, "I would wish you luck," his uncle began before a smile cut across his face, "but I know that you would not need it."

Harry was about to show humility, but his uncle evidently was not yet done. From across the open sea of the Atlantic Ocean, Alex added something that made the heart of Harry want to jump, "In more ways than one, you are my son, I am sure that you would not fail."

Harry nodded, unable to voice even a single thought that came flooding across his mind. Even though his uncle had never denied that Harry is his nephew – despite the fact that he never acknowledged it while Harry was around – this was the first time that Harry knew of that his uncle had openly acknowledged something that his aunt had acknowledged from the very start.

A few moments later, a simple, "Yes uncle," was the only thing that Harry could say in response.

Once more, silence descended between the two. This time, however, the general discomfort that Harry felt the first time that the silence descended did not materialize, he was still floating in response to the fact that his uncle had acknowledged him.

It was, again, left to Alex to break the silence, and he did so a few moments later. The words that came out of him indicated that they were back in business, "Tell me of your impressions of Britain, Harry," he ordered.

The tone alerted Harry that his uncle was back in business, and he knew that the only response from him that would be accepted must be made in a business-like tone as well. It was hard for him to resume the business-like tone that he knew was proper – he might have lost altitude, but he was still mostly floating – but when he spoke, his uncle did not countermand him, "It's a beautiful country, uncle," he replied, "I see why you like it."

Alex smiled, "Yes," he replied, he politely inclined his head toward his nephew, acknowledging the compliment as if it was intended for him, before he continued, "And the magical side? Do you hold it in the same regard?"

Harry did his best to ensure that no snort would come out of him, but in that endeavor, he was not entirely successful. His uncle ignored whatever impropriety came out of Harry, however, allowing Harry to report, "Nothing but contempt," Harry replied, his tone sure.

A few moments later, however, he qualified his earlier statement, "Well, not most of them," he said.

The smile on the face of his uncle encouraged Harry to continue, so that was exactly what he did, "I've been trying to compose a report for the Secretary, but I am afraid that I cannot express even a single word," he added.

"You're distracted," Alex said a few moments later. It was not phased as a question, and it was not a question, that much Harry knew. It was an observation.

"Yes," Harry replied, having failed to see what could be gained by lying in front of the man who had raised him. He was sure that his uncle would have seen through the lie even if he had attempted it, "I met a girl this morning, a young woman actually."

There was no smile on the face of his uncle, but Harry knew his uncle long enough to know that there was a hint of amusement lurking just underneath the façade that he presented to Harry, and Harry was sure of this though his uncle did not say anything.

"She told me a lot about Magical Britain, uncle," Harry added a few moments later and even he was not sure if he was excusing his earlier actions or if it was something else, "and she is in the year of Michael Potter."

Alex might have never referred to Harry as his son or nephew – at least in front of Harry before – but the same was true for Harry when it comes to his twin brother. From the moment that he had learned discernment, Harry had never considered Michael Potter as his brother despite the fact that he had been told by his aunt and uncle that he and Michael are twins. His aunt and uncle never insisted that Harry acknowledge the familial bond so that may have had some effect.

"And?" Alex asked, one of his eyebrows rising, the only indication that Harry needed in order to know that not only was his uncle aware that there is more to his report, he was impatiently waiting for Harry to add that detail.

"She intrigues me, uncle," Harry finally admitted five seconds later. There was no way that he could keep that lie from his uncle anyway and despite the distance between the two – which prevented his uncle from using his legilimancy, against which, the mind shields of Harry were of no use despite being one of the most formidable amongst the members of the American Mind Arts Society – Harry knew that his uncle could still read him like an open book, "I am planning on inviting her out for dinner sometime this week, to get to know her better."

For the first time since the conversation began, Alex openly laughed, "And I imagine that you would be asking her if she has a boyfriend when you go out for dinner, Harry," he said. The statement caused a blush to appear on the face of Harry, something that made his uncle laugh harder, "Ah, to be young again," he commented.

Harry fought the urge to frown at that statement, and he was somewhat successful in that. Harry knew that his uncle met his aunt when they were children, literally. His aunt had never tired of retelling the story to Harry every now and then and when Harry was younger, his aunt used to tell him the story couched as a fairy tale whenever Harry would request for one from her – he never bothered asking his uncle; that was like asking an incoming storm to disperse, impossible.

Since the moment that the two of them had first met, Harry knew that his aunt and uncle had never separated. Sure they went to separate schools when they reached college – his uncle continued in Columbia while his aunt went to the University of the City of New York – but that did not stop their relationship. The same friends of his aunt and uncle that had warned Harry about how his uncle is always smiling when the name of his aunt was mentioned in his presence had told him of how, even when they were younger, they were sure that Alex and Emma would someday be married.

"It's not as if I am going to ask her to marry me, uncle," Harry replied a few moments later, his mind having returned to the present.

Alex shook his head, "I know," he assured his nephew. A soft sigh escaped from the lips of Alex before he added, "I am just remembering that that was exactly what I told myself back when I first met your aunt."

Harry wanted to retort, but he was once more left with no effective rejoinder, so he was forced to keep his mouth shut. Alex, apparently, had also left out of things to say and a few more moments later, he yawned before he said, "I better go check on your aunt, I'm sure she'll call you as soon as she can."

"Yes sir," Harry replied, but even if he said that, he made no move to terminate the call. As the one who initiated the call in the first place, that task should be left to his uncle.

Evidently, however, Alex had one last thing to say, "Your aunt and I would be arriving in Britain in time for us to join you for the last weekend before the start of term," Alex informed Harry, "The estate in Richmond would be opened for us and I expect you to join us there, in fact, you would be joining your aunt and I as we travel north from the Channel, I'll send you the details as soon as they are finalized."

Harry could only nod. He knew that he really does not have a choice in that, but it helped that he wanted to go to the Richmond, "I would wait for the details, uncle," he assured the man on the other end of the line. Harry watched as his uncle gave him a nod before the message was terminated, and once more Harry was left alone in the room that he had chosen for himself, his next course of action unknown even to himself.

A soft sigh escaped from the lips of the young man as he suddenly remembered something. A smile quickly formed on his face as he realized that while he had already told his uncle about his plan to invite Hermione to dinner within the week, he had not actually made plans yet. Toward that end, his next course of action was certain.

During the trip from the center of London to the house of Hermione, Harry had managed to ask for her home number. The excuse that he gave was that he needed it in case he needed to talk to Hermione before the start of term in regard to the other requirements that Harry supposedly – and that was a big fat lie – forgot to procure during the trip.

There was actually a longing smile on the face of Harry as he made his way to the telephone inside this room. A few more moments later – during which time he input the sequence of numbers that Hermione had given him – and Harry found himself listening on the rings of the phone.

It did not take long before the phone was answered, but while Harry was hoping that it would be Hermione who would pick up the phone, he knew that that would be too much hope. In this regard, he was correct as the voice that greeted him from the other end was that of a man, "Hello?" the unknown voice on the other end asked.

"Good evening sir," Harry replied, the protocols that his aunt had drilled unto him almost automatically taking over, "This is Harry Potter, may I please speak with Ms. Hermione Granger, please?"

There was a pause on the phone as the person on the other side processed that information. The silence lasted several seconds and for a few moments, Harry was sure that the speaker on the other end had put the phone down to get Hermione, but Harry could still hear the breathing of the man on the other end when he sharpened his hearing a few moments later.

"I'm sorry," the voice on the other end finally replied, "This is Richard Granger, Hermione's father," he introduced himself, "My daughter and her mother are currently out in the park and having a chat about you, Mr. Potter."

The way that Richard Granger delivered that message was threatening and cordial at the same time and even Harry was not sure how he should react to it. He tried to find the proper reply from his mind, but fortunately, he was saved from having to reply when Richard Granger's voice came over the phone again, "In all my life, I have never seen my daughter gushing out about a friend that she had made," there was a pause before he added, "Come to think of it, I haven't actually seen her talking about making a friend since she left for that nuthouse of a school in Scotland," – and here, Harry smiled as he realized that Hermione's own parents do not approve of Hogwarts – "you must be special," Richard concluded.

Harry was again about to show off his humility, but before he had the chance, Hermione's father cut him off once more, "Tell you what, why don't you and I meet tomorrow?" he suggested, "I promise I'll bring Hermione along."

There was no problem with that as far as the schedule of Harry was concerned, but he was hesitant, understandably. He also quickly discovered that, like his uncle, the father of Hermione can make an order seem like a question.

"I promise I won't eat you," Richard Granger said a few moments later, apparently, he sensed the hesitation that Harry was going through, "And since it's a weekend tomorrow, I imagine that you would be allowed outside, we'll even pick you up."

Harry was still hesitant, but when Richard Granger repeated a detail that he had already told Harry a few moments ago – specifically that Hermione would be there – suddenly, any inkling of resistance within Harry collapsed, "I'd be delighted to meet with you tomorrow, Mr. Granger," but even as he said that, he cannot help but feel as if he had just signed his own death warrant.