Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. Therefore, all of this incredible universe where this fanfiction will take place belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit, except my entertainment, is being made.

Suggestion: It would be an excellent idea to look at the Authors Notes at the end of the chapter to know how this fanfiction will work.

One Quick Explanation: This is an AU, which Harry is three years older than canon, and his brother is the BWL even if he doesn't know it yet. This isn't a WBWL fanfiction, although it might have some common aspects. Also, the similarity between Tom and Harry is intentional and will be necessary for a future chapter.

The Orphanage

July 30th of 1988 - Wool's Orphanage - Room 27

Inside a small room, with poor illumination and unmistakable musty smell coming from the old unpainted walls, a young boy with dark hair and green eyes sat quietly on the window seat while watching the kids playing in the streets.

After living in the orphanage for seven years, Hardin Sayre was no stranger to loneliness. However, it didn't mean that he was immune - he was simply used to such. Seeing everyone having fun while he was isolated in his room was painful, but it was nothing more than his daily reality.

For most of the Wool's Orphanage staff, Hardin was the weirdest boy to live there in recent decades. It was not a matter of appearance. In fact, Hardin's appearance was his most normal aspect. No, the problem was that he could do the impossible and, for the other orphans and the staff, this meant that he was dangerous, which was why he had to stay in his room.

Though nobody in the orphanage believed him, it wasn't his fault. He had never asked for being able to do the things he did - he just could. Everybody liked to say that he was cursed, but he disagreed with them - Hardin knew he had been blessed.

He couldn't explain how he could move objects without touching them, nor why electronics devices would stop working when he was truly angry or mad about something. He only knew it had all started when he was seven years old.

Hardin was playing with some of his classmates in the school's playground when he lost his balance and fell from the climbers - but he never reached the ground. Instead of falling and getting his face smashed by the floor, he had stopped one foot above it. Hardin thought that someone was holding him at first, but there was no one by his side. He was floating - literally.

And, as the days passed, these unexplainable situations became more and more frequent.

Once, Eliot and his gang were chasing him, and he disappeared from the school area and reappeared inside his orphanage room. Another day, after being scolded by Mr Wool - the orphanage owner - he had changed the man's hair from grey to bright red so that it could match the man's peculiar face colour. It had been hilarious to see it, but the punishment he received hadn't been worth it.

Until then, nobody cared for what Hardin was or wasn't able to do. The orphanage's unwritten rule was simple: you don't mess with the staff, and they won't mess with you. Therefore, for a few years, he had been able to enjoy a quite common childhood. He had friends, played along with other kids and had a good time in school. But, that all changed after Eliot's accident.

Everyone in the orphanage, staff and orphans, knew that Hardin and Eliot didn't get along, though nobody was sure why. Eliot Eastwood was another orphan that was mainly known for his rather aggressive personality. Even if he tried, Hardin could not remember how many times he and Eliot had fought and, even with so many opportunities, the result was the same: Eliot was victorious.

Until the day he wasn't.

Hardin remembered every aspect of that day lively as if it had all happened yesterday. He could recall mocking Eliot for being returned to the orphanage - because the potential family had changed their minds about the adoption - and Eliot being as furious as he had ever been. Now, almost three years later, Hardin knew he had been a little piece of shit to Eliot that day. However, for his eight-year-old mind, mocking Eliot because he failed at something seemed natural.

Eliot had wasted no time in chasing Hardin down and then teaching him a lesson. However, the problem was that Hardin, desperate for help, wished for it to stop - for Eliot to be taken away from him, for him to be freed. And it happened, just not in the way Hardin had imagined.

In a matter of moments, the punches stopped, and a scream replaced them. Hardin opened his eyes only in time to see Eliot being knocked back towards the window. He tried to stop, he honestly did, but it was too late. Eliot felt and, by a miracle, hadn't died in the process.

Ever since that day, the entire orphanage changed.

If once, Hardin was just another regular orphan who could do funny tricks, he was now seen as the devil. As nobody had seen the scene, they figured Hardin had pushed Eliot through the window, resulting in the fall in a failed attempt to murder the older boy. They didn't know he hadn't done it on purpose. It had been an accident, but no one saw it that way. It was already too late.

On the following days, he experienced rejection like never before. No one dared to come close to him. His friends had left him and didn't give him the chance to explain himself and, well, the staff made sure to make his life hell. They had moved him to the haunted room, leaving him separated from any contact with the others on the third floor. Every orphan was afraid of the room - even the staff avoided it - something about it just felt wrong. Now, it belonged to him, and there was nothing to do about it.

Weeks and weeks passed by, and nothing got better. He had stopped playing around with his powers and, still, people kept their distance. Nobody gave him a second chance. They were all too busy making gossip, avoiding and cursing him from behind his back to give him another chance. Why couldn't people just offer him their hand?

Hardin couldn't see a single light by the end of a year to make his situation any better.

In a way, he knew he deserved what was happening to him. Elliot had spent months in the hospital to recover. On the other hand, he couldn't help but feel angry about all of the situation. Not one day had gone by that Hardin hadn't been pushed, kicked or offended, and nobody did a single thing to help. Yes, Eliot's accident was awful, and he was guilty, but that didn't give people the right to do whatever they wanted with him.

It was then that he realised that his powers weren't a curse, but without them, he was cursed.

Therefore, after so many months without using them, Hardin decided to learn how to control it. They were his only form of protection now, and he had no intention of letting them run free again.

Unfortunately, this was a mission easier said than done.

Now, almost two years later, he had better control of his abilities, but it hardly meant he had mastered it. Honestly, the only thing he could indeed do - and just if he focused enough - was to move objects without touching them willingly. Still, there were limitations, such as the weight and size of it. Apart from that, all the other things he could do depended on his day's luck. For example, he had never managed to teleport again, but, quite frequently, there were times that he could make untrained animals obey him.

At least, no accident like Eliot's had happened again. Yes, a few days ago, there was that one situation that he had made Mr Wool feel a bit of pain, but it had been intentional. Honestly, Mr Wool deserved way worse - and Hardin was sure no orphan would say otherwise, especially the girls. However, after being threatened to be sent into an asylum, Hardin had to stop.

"A place for abominations like you." Mr Wool had said.

The life in the orphanage was terrible, but it was manageable. If the asylum was anything like what he had heard, he wanted to stay as far as possible from it.

This threat was what was making Hardin so anxious about his guest meeting today. Only five days had passed since his argument, and he was sure it hadn't been enough for Mr Wool to forget what he had said.

Hardin looked at the stolen clock on his wrist, and he still had five minutes before the said meeting. He sighed heavily. Why couldn't his life just be simple for a change?

Maybe he would be lucky enough for it to be a family looking forward to meeting him.

'Tough decision.' He thought without a hint of irony. 'What's worse, Hardin? Asylum or another guest family?'

Hardin was probably the only orphan that hated those visits. No one that hadn't experienced it would ever understand how horrible it felt to create these fantasies about the perfect family, about being loved for once, so that they would drop the process in the final moments. This had happened to him three times. Three times, he had had his dreams crushed by Mr Wool, saying, "Unfortunately, Mr and Mrs have decided to wait for a bit more." or "Mr and Mrs have found a more compatible candidate." And, for him, three times had been more than enough. Now, he understood how much of a prick he had been for Eliot a few years ago. But, at that time, his life seemed perfect, and - if not for the mess he had made with Eliot - he would have been adopted by that Jones family. Well, this was a long-lost dream.

Those five minutes seemed to pass like years. Hardin never understood why some moments of life seemed to pass slower than others. He hated it.

Without having anything better to do, he got out of the seat and went towards the broken mirror, rang in the wall. No matter how different and abnormal he was, nobody in the orphanage could deny that Hardin was a rather handsome young man. The contrast between his dark hair and his green eyes was one of the main components of his beauty. Usually, his round glasses would be with him too, but considering how someone had broken them on purpose, they were useless.

The few imperfections he possessed were two tiny scars he had over his face: one by the end of his left eyebrow and the other by his eyelid. They were almost unnoticeable, but they were there. The scar by Hardin's eyelid had always been there. While the other was a reminder of what he had done to Eliot - actually, of what Eliot had done to him.

Hardin was taken out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door, and, by the strength of it, he knew it was Mr Wool. Before Mr Wool could knock another time, he ran towards the door and opened it.

Mr Wool was a short yet strong middle-aged man whose most noticeable characteristic was his permanent red and annoyed face. Ever since Hardin had joined the orphanage, not even once he had seen the man smile, it seemed like the only thing he truly knew how to do was yelling. All the orphans, with no exception, feared him, as he was known for his somewhat different punishments. At the very least, he was a relatively fair man. If you didn't mess with him, he wouldn't mess with you. The only exception for this rule was Hardin. Every time Mr Wool needed a guilty one for a situation, he would blame Hardin - which was why they had never had a tolerable relationship with each other. As always, Mr Wool looked angry about something, though his face wasn't as red as usual. Mr Wool discretely came closer, grabbed Hardin's arm quite forcefully, and whispered, "You'll not waste this opportunity, do you understand? Do nothing strange to scare the woman. Do we have an agreement?"

Hardin did not understand what Mr Wool was talking about, but he nodded either way. If Hardin knew the man as well as he thought, he knew that a simple question as "What?" would be interpreted as some kind of provocation. So, it was better to stay quiet.

The man took a step back, looked at the end of the hall, and calmly - almost friendly - said:

"Come closer, Mrs McGonagall. Let me introduce you to our young Hardin Sayre."

Slowly, as he was without his glasses, Hardin saw the image of a woman with a stern face getting closer to him. She seemed strangely familiar. Why was she here? And what did Mr Wool mean with opportunity? Mrs McGonagall looked at him and gave him a slight smile, which he returned with a frowned expression. Who was she?

"Mr Sayre, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Professor McGonagall." She said without offering him her hand.

Hardin was intrigued. He couldn't point to a single reason for a professor to be here looking for him. So, why would a professor be here? No, that didn't make sense.

'Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.' He thought, trying to remember any possible information that could provide him with some explanation, but nothing came to his mind.

As Mr Wool pinched him on his back, Hardin forced himself to reply, "It's a pleasure, Professor McGonagall."

Professor McGonagall made a polite nod and, after Mr Wool made a sign with his hands, Hardin entered his room being followed by her. While he sat on his bed, she took the chair in front of it.

For a couple of seconds, Hardin felt he was being studied, analysed, and didn't like it. Who was she to judge him? Why wasn't McGonagall speaking? Was she expecting him to do so? Why would he start to talk if she was the one that came looking for him? Something wasn't right about her. She looked at him like she knew him, but they had never seen each other before, had they?

'She's studying me. Just like that psychiatrist after Eliot's accident.' He thought, and his heartbeat became faster. 'She's here to take me to the asylum!'

Hardin must have looked afraid because Professor McGonagall, who had been looking at him so sternly, suddenly looked softer. He didn't buy that. She wasn't his friend. She was here to take him to the asylum. He was sure of it.

"I'm here to offer you, Mr Sayre, an opportunity to study in the school I teach, Hogwarts."

If it was possible, his frown intensified. Hogwarts? He had never heard of a school called Hogwarts. Couldn't Mr Wool have built a better lie? Why not pick a name like Eton for his lie?

'That's the name of the asylum then….' He thought, partly angry and partly terrified.

"I don't recognise the name," Hardin said shortly. He couldn't make a scene, but he didn't want to be polite. If she genuinely worked in an asylum, Hardin's only chance was to prove for her that he wasn't insane. Although he figured if Mr Wool had already accepted it, he had little chance of convincing her otherwise.

Professor McGonagall looked like she had already had this same conversation many times.

"Hogwarts is a very exclusive school. It would surprise me if you had already heard of it, Mr Sayre." She said as she got out of her purse a letter and gave it to him. "Why don't you read the letter before we talk more. It will make things easier."

Hardin quickly took the letter from her hand and read the back of it:

Mr H. M. Sayre

Room Number 27

Wool's orphanage,

London.

Turning the envelope over, Hardin saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Though he didn't want to admit it, it looked pretty. Mr Wool certainly had been more creative than Hardin had imagined.

Breaking the wax seal, he pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

His first reaction was to snort. Seriously? Mr Wool thought he was this stupid? That he would fall for such a ridiculous trick? That Hardin wouldn't see right through that the 'School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' was just a fake name for the asylum? His first intention was to act as behaved as he could, but this was an insult. He just couldn't control himself.

Hardin didn't even bother reading the rest. Placing back the letter inside the envelope, he returned it to her.

She looked surprised, "Mr Sayre, I don't think…."

With the coldest voice he had ever spoken with, he said, "I'm not going to the asylum."

"Asylum?" Professor McGonagall honestly looked confused. Mr Wool had, indeed, found a good actress. "Who said anything about asylum? I'm here to offer you an opportunity to attend my school, Hogwarts."

"Don't lie to me!" He snapped. "That's where you are from, aren't you, Professor? I know Wool wants me to go, but I'm not going! He should be the one going to one. " He stopped for a moment. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Mr Sayre!" Professor McGonagall said firmly. "I assure you that I am not from the asylum, and I have no other intention apart from offering you the opportunity to study at Hogwarts." She took a deep breath. "Now, if you may calm yourself down, we can talk about it…."

"About witchcraft and wizardry?"

"Well, yes…"

He interrupted her before she could even finish her sentence, "I'm not stupid, Professor."

"I have never said you were." She proceeded, with a calmer voice, "Hogwarts is a school for children born with special abilities that we call…."

"I'm not mad!"

"Hogwarts is a school of magic. It most certainly isn't an asylum."

Hardin had just met this woman, but he hated her. Why couldn't she just drop her act? Why keep pretending she wasn't from the asylum? It was obvious. But, if she wanted to play this game, he could play it too.

"Then prove it."

"Prove what, Mr Sayre?"

"Prove that you truly teach in a school of witchcraft and wizardry." He challenged her. "Prove you are not lying."

She, whoever she was, was most undoubtedly annoyed. However, she didn't say a word. Instead, she took out a wooden stick, pointed to the pillow over the bed, and murmured something in a weird language. Hardin watched her every move attentively.

'What are you doing?' He wondered.

In a matter of moments, right in front of his eyes, the pillow transformed itself into a cat. A living cat. Was this real? Hardin placed his hand over the cat. He could feel its fur, the heat, the heart beating. For more strange it sounded, it was for real.

Strange…

It was then that he connected the dots: he was strange, and so was she. Therefore, if what she could do was magic, what he could do was also magic. "It's magic."

"It most certainly is."

For the first time since they met, Hardin looked at her with curiosity and fascination, "All the things I can do are magic?"

"You would have to be more specific about what all the things mean. What do you think you have already done that can be considered as magic?"

Flashes and flashes came into Hardin's mind about everything strange he had ever done.

'Not strange.' He reminded himself mentally. 'But magic.'

Hardin remembered the day he teleported himself inside his room, the many times he made objects move without touching them, how he had made a dog chase and bite a man that was bothering an older girl from the orphanage…

"I can do many things…I can teleport myself from a place to another… make things move without touching them…make animals do as I wish…."

He stopped talking so he could think of other things he had already done. It was then that Eliot came back to his mind. How he had made Mr Wool feel pain after he got too close to him...

He couldn't talk about it. What if Professor McGonagall thought he would be a problem to have around in Hogwarts and decided to take his invitation away? He couldn't risk losing it - this had to be kept as a secret. Hardin had to learn to control it. He needed to attend Hogwarts.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagal didn't seem to notice something was bothering him.

"Well, that's certainly impressive, Mr Sayre. You have great control upon your magic." Professor McGonagall said and, now that Hardin observed her, he could see that she was trying her best not to demonstrate her surprise. "And, yes, these are all demonstrations of magic."

Hardin felt a relief he had never felt before. Though he did consider his powers - his magic - a blessing, there was no denying that not having anyone like you to help you understand what was going on was a horrible feeling. Now, knowing for sure that he wasn't some sort of demon, took out of him a burden he never knew he had been caring. It was the feeling of something he had craved for a long time: acceptance.

"I always knew I was different…." Hardin, being too absorbed in his thoughts, commented more to himself than for the woman. "Especial…better than the others…."

Taking a quick look at Professor McGonagall's face, he realised that he had talked too much. She wasn't surprised anymore - she was looking at him with worried eyes.

"You're a wizard." Professor McGonagall said without enthusiasm. "However, you should not think of yourself as better than muggles, which is our word to refer to non-magical people. Do you understand that?"

"Of course, Professor." Hardin falsely agreed. So, he couldn't say wizards are special, but he could call non-magical folk muggles? Maybe he had claimed victory way too early.

"I'm glad you can comprehend that."

She later explained to him that Hogwarts was an old school created to teach children how to control and use their magic. According to her, Hogwarts was like any other muggle school, where he would have classes, make assignments, exams, and, once he was older, his grades would help him find a job in the Wizarding World. She also mentioned that Hogwarts students were sorted into four different houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Hardin had the impression she liked the Gryffindor one a bit more, as her eyes seemed to shine when she pronounced the name.

"These…" She said, taking another envelope and giving it to him, "...papers contain some book suggestions for you to buy. They might help you to learn more about our world…."

As soon as she said the word buy, Hardin remembered that he didn't have any money. How would he pay for Hogwarts? It was not like Mr Wool would be investing his money on Hardin. Was this dream already slipping away from him too?

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I don't have money. I'm afraid I cannot afford Hogwarts." Hardin said, sounding quite broken-hearted - McGonagall looked at him more sympathetically.

"That will hardly be a problem, Mr Sayre. Hogwarts has funds to help young wizards and witches in your situation. Of course, some things will be second-handed, but you will be able to have everything you need." She explained and then took out a black leather money-pouch from her purse that she later handed to Hardin. "This is a Ministry's - which is different from muggle's Ministry - help for kids who do not have the means to afford Hogwarts. Each year you'll receive a quantity good enough for you to buy your school books and robes."

Hardin took the money pouch that weighed almost nothing and opened the money pouch, taking a golden coin from inside it. It looked nice.

"This is a Galleon, Mr Sayre." She explained. "In the Wizarding World, we use Galleons, Sickles and Knuts as money. There are 29 Knuts in a Sickle and 17 Sickles in a Galleon. Galleons are the golden coins; Sickles are the silver ones; and, Knuts are made from bronze."

Hardin placed the coin back in the money pouch and looked at her, excited.

"Where can I get them? The books and robes, I mean." Hardin inquired, or better, demanded. Professor McGonagall didn't seem happy with his attitude but said nothing. "I've never seen a store selling these things before."

"You most certainly won't find the necessary materials in Muggle London. However, if you go to the right place, like Diagon Alley, you can buy everything."

'Couldn't you just say where I should go straightaway?' Hardin thought, annoyed but didn't vocalise it. He hoped there wasn't a way to read minds in the Magical World…

"Oh... How can I get to this Diagon Alley, then?"

"There is a place called Leaky Cauldron, in Charing Cross Road. You can access the Diagon Alley from there."

"I understand."

"If you want, I can take you to the Diagon Alley, but ..."

"I can go by myself, Professor. I'm used to walking around alone." Hardin interrupted her, using a tone that made sure she knew he didn't want her company. He had such a peculiar feeling about her.

Professor McGonagall seemed unpleased with his behaviour but kept herself quiet. Hardin had the impression that at least a part of her was glad not to have to take him to this Diagon Alley place, wherever this place was.

"If that's your wish, Mr Sayre."

In the following minutes, she explained how to find the Leaky Cauldron entrance, how it was hidden from the muggles, and that he should ask the barman, Tom, for guidance to access the Diagon Alley. When he asked how he was supposed to get to Hogwarts, she told him about the hidden Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station and gave him his golden ticket to get the train - September 1st was the date in it. Hardin didn't want to believe that he would need to run against a wall to get through the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters - who was the idiot that had this genius idea?

"Professor, you've said that there are muggle-borns, half-blood and pureblood, right?"

"That's correct, although we have other classifications in our world."

"What am I then?" Hardin inquired. "Have you met my parents? Have them attended Hogwarts as well?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer, Mr Sayre. However, if I had to guess, I would say you are a muggle-born." She said. "I've never met or listened to the name Sayre before. And, considering how I am here handing you your letter, it makes me more inclined to think of you as a muggle-born."

Quite disappointed to hear that his parents, more likely, weren't unique like him, he asked, "Are there any chances I am not a muggle-born?"

"Being a muggle-born does not make you inferior, Mr Sayre." Professor McGonagall said harshly. "But, yes, there are chances of you not being a muggle-born. Although I reckon they are not considerable."

Hardin hadn't heard any other word after she said there were chances of him not being a muggle-born. If he had to choose, he would prefer that his parents were like him. One couple formed by a great witch and wizard, both powerful and respectable. Not to random everyday muggles. His parents were important - he was sure of it. Besides, although she claimed there was no difference, Hardin didn't buy it. For him, she was omitting something.

After she made some final considerations about the Wizarding World and Hogwarts' laws and rules - for some reason, she emphasised the ones related to authority respect and no animosity between students - she gave him back his acceptance letter. Finally, she told him there was extra information on the second piece of parchment of the envelope, and, then, with a blink of his eyes, she disappeared.

'Blimey!' He thought as he noticed she had left. 'Was this what I did to escape from the boys? It's incredible.'

The only thoughts he had on his mind now were about magic. He had now found the name of his blessing, and he couldn't feel happier for that. He had found his place. A world where he would belong. No more bullying, no more living in an orphanage.

He was finally free, and he couldn't be gladder about it.

Author's Notes

First, I would like to apologise for any grammar mistakes, especially because English is not my first language, so I may commit some flaws.

Second, I've posted four chapters of this fanfiction before. However, I decided to rewrite the fanfiction and, as I would make some changes in two chapters already posted, I deleted it. This time, I have a good amount of chapters done and have no intentions of deleting it.

Some Important Information:

Plot: This is an AU fanfiction, in which Harry Potter grew up and uses the identity of Hardin Morrigan Sayre. The reason why he was left in the orphanage (and I assure you it won't be a "they gave up on him because they had to focus on the BWL" kind of explanation), the origin of the name, and the reason why Voldemort still attacked the Potters will be explained later on. This Harry is three years older than canon. Right now, Harry has no idea of his true identity, which is why, currently, I'm referring to him as Hardin. In the future, I'll be using Harry and Hardin. A few parts of the story will be similar to canon, but most of it will be very different. I guess this is everything I can say about the plot without giving too many spoilers. I hope you stick around to see what I've planned.

Age Observation: Harry Potter is three years older than canon, as well as Daphne Greengrass. Astoria Greengrass and Lily/Marauders/Snape have been aged up a bit for plot purposes. Harry's brother, the BWL, has the same age as canon Harry. Therefore, when the BWL joins Hogwarts, Harry will be in his fourth year.

Daphne Greengrass: She's in this fanfiction because I wanted to do a different Daphne than the "Ice Queen" one. That's it. I just wanted to change her for a bit. Her sister will also be rather important for a few parts of the story.

Chapters: I don't have a specific date to post, but I won't possibly stay more than a month without posting. Chapters will likely have about 5-7k words, maybe less, maybe more.

Dumbledore: This isn't manipulative/mean Dumbledore. Sorry for the ones that like it.

Politics: This is not Lord Potter-Black-Peverell-Slytherin type of thing. There will be no child politicians, talking as 60 years old. Oh, and Wizengamont seats in this fanfiction are given by votes, not by birth. I'll explain it better later on.

Gringotts: there is absolutely no sort of test that gives you heirship of twenty different houses. Also, goblins and wizards will have the same relationship they have in cannon: they don't like each other. Therefore, no Friend of Goblin Nation or goblins who destroys Horcruxes.

For now, this is all. Thank you for reading. Please comment and give me your thoughts. I hope you like it.

The next chapter will be posted tomorrow.