The Letter from InGen

It was the early evening of July 7, 1993, the summer after Harry Potter's second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry was sitting at what amounted to a desk in his bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive. It was actually a second bedroom that previously belonged to his spoilt, overweight cousin, Dudley.

It was the summer holidays, the time of year he looked forward to the least because he was always sent back to his relatives, the Dursleys.

All through the summer, he was either neglected by them or made to do their housework. That included, not just cooking, but also cleaning, gardening, and sometimes even repairs around the house.

They'd never taken him on any family outings, whether they be meals, amusement events, or even trips outside the country. Up until he was eleven, they'd either lock him in a cupboard under the stairs, or with their neighbor across the street, Ms. Arabella Figg.

But all this was because of his Aunt Petunia's jealousy; her sister was Harry's mother, Lily, and when their parents found out she was a witch and was to attend Hogwarts, Petunia became green with envy over all that attention and the flat-out, yet still kind rejection she received from the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, when she asked to study there as well.

Dumbledore was the one that brought Harry to the Dursley's to begin with and who forced him to stay there for most of the summer. Anyone who knew him could see an experienced, but grandfatherly essence to him; this gave many of his allies the impression that he was not to be argued or messed with.

Harry, especially, fell into this trap, having never been exposed to any real love or affection. From an early age, he'd learned not to ask his relatives questions if he wanted to avoid any It didn't help that even if he made one mistake in that house, there would be serious consequences.

Before attending Hogwarts, whenever he performed some type of magic out of nowhere, like turning his teacher's hair blue or winding up on the school roof after running from bullies, he'd be locked in the cupboard for a week at most with no meals.

This type of punishment affected his performance in school as well; If he received higher grades than his cousin Dudley, the same consequences were inflicted upon him Even when he wasn't unlocked, he wasn't presented with sufficient meals to begin either.

Still, Harry considered it fairer punishment than being cuffed on the side of the head by his Aunt's frying pan or being chased up a tree by his uncle's sister's untamed bulldog.

It was this type of treatment that taught Harry not to speak up about his home life to anyone, especially to Dumbledore.

It didn't help that Marge, his uncle's sister, was coming to visit at the end of the month, as well. He had to keep up the pretense set up by his aunt and uncle that his parents were drunks and he was a state school student who was beaten multiple times.

There was no telling what she'd say about him or his parents this time or how he'd deal with it.

Harry thought maybe he'd write a letter to his best friend Ron Weasley about his troubles and when he'd be able to go visit him at his family home, the Burrow. It was the only part of the summer he looked forward to, especially considering he had to stay with the Dursley's on his birthday.

Harry's pet snowy owl, Hedwig, was waiting in her cage on his dresser, just for him to pick up a quill. Just as Harry was about to, he found an barn owl waiting at his window, clutching an envelope.

Harry didn't recognize this owl, so he cautiously took the envelope.

It couldn't have been from the Weasleys; their owl, Errol was far too old to make a journey all the way to Surrey. Ron's older brother, Percy, had an owl of his own named Hermès, but h never let anyone else use him.

It couldn't have been sent to him by the Ministry of Magic. He'd received one of their letters the year before when he was accused of performing magic outside of Hogwarts. But that incident was actually caused by a house-elf named Dobby, and Harry didn't recall doing anything wrong this time.

Harry concluded the letter must be from his other best friend, Hermione Granger. She didn't have an owl of her own, so maybe she was borrowing one to try and keep in touch with her friends.

The envelope was addressed the same as all the other ones he'd received during his lifetime,

Mr. H. Potter
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey

When Harry opened it, he unfolded a letter with an unfamiliar logo as a header.

It read,

InGen,
International Genetics Incorporated.

The name of this brand didn't strike Harry as familiar immediately. He may have read about it in one of the newspapers he'd nicked from his uncle or seen it on television in one of the times he was able to peek out of his cupboard, but whatever sort of company it was, they must have been low-profile.

The letter itself did look professional, however.

It read,

Dear Mr. Potter,

Years ago, your father, James, invested a sample of his family fortune into my company while we were still starting up. I knew your mother, Lily, and the rest of her family before I came to America from Scotland to start InGen. I've been told your mother was quite a genius during her school days. Her areas of excellence I cannot say, since I was told neither what they were nor the school she attended.

However, I was told that she was part of a club for students with promising futures. In the times I've spoken with her, she seemed the brightest girl of her age and thus, I was pleased when she persuaded your father to invest in InGen.

I've heard of your parents' demise and for quite awhile, I've been searching for you to provide your family estate with condolence funds. Thanks to some special connections, I've been able to locate you and your guardians.

I'm sorry to be getting this in so late, but I'm sending an invitation in your name. I was given quite the peculiar address and requested to do it by owl for some odd reason;

For the past five years, InGen has been developing a new zoological park on the island of Isla Nublar, just off the west coast of Costa Rica. I've leased the island from the government due to great biological capacity this project required.

Unfortunately, your father's investment isn't enough to keep us afloat; My other investors are concerned this project hasn't measured up to required standards and insist on bringing in outside opinions.

For that reason, I've invited you and your relatives to visit us in the coming weekend. After all, in this company, we cite families as our target audience. Do not worry about any sort of payment, we spared no expense in meeting all your accommodations.

I've already contacted your aunt and uncle and they've agreed to attend, along with one other family who have invested in InGen previously. Cars will be arriving to drive you to Heathrow Airport on the 8th of July. Airline tickets are enclosed.

I look forward to meeting you and hearing your opinions soon,

John Hammond, CEO.

This was quite a surprise to Harry; he wasn't expecting to be talked to about his parents before he was even thirteen. The goblins at Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank, had never discussed it with him.

The out-of-nowhere promise of a free trip wasn't exactly helpful either. It sounded like something that Dumbledore, the Weasleys, or even Hermione would convince him to back away from, since they'd all convinced him that they knew better.

Harry thought maybe he'd write Hermione for advice about this; since she was raised in the Muggle world and had quite a head on her shoulders. But just as Harry picked up his quill again, he looked at a calendar he kept on his wall and realized that today was the 7th of July and she likely wouldn't have time to reply.

His concerns were interrupted by a loud banging on his bedroom door.

"Boy!" A loud male voice shouted.

A ridiculous number of locks placed on the door from the outside were opened and into the room stepped a large, beefy, purple-faced man with a bushy black mustache and beady eyes. This was Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley.

Vernon stretched a sausage like finger up to his nephew's neck.

"Boy! A few weeks ago, we received a call from an odd sort of man, claiming to have known that freak of a mother of yours," he drawled. "But he presented us with an interesting offer... a trip to an island resort of his near Costa Rica. He offered it to us in your name and insisted on taking you with us. Said he even sent you the..."

Before he could finish, Harry picked up the envelope and pulled out four tickets, all of which were printed to read;

British Airways 1007, Terminal 5, London Dallas, Board at 0830.

After reading Dallas to be the destination, Vernon swiped the tickets and the envelope from Harry, sifting through it to find four more.

These read;

American Airlines 197, Gate: 17, From: Dallas/ Ft. Worth DFW To: San Jose SJC, Boarding Time: 3:15 PM.

"Bloody layovers," it sounded like Vernon grumbled. "Always trying to hold you back from where you're going."

He stuffed the tickets into his shirt pocket before laying his finger back up to Harry's face.

"He wrote to you then, did he?" Vernon suggested. "Must be another one of those freaky friends of yours. If that's it, then we have no choice. We leave tomorrow morning, be grateful we're taking you away out of the kindness of our hearts."

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry nodded, nervously.

"Particularly since last year, when you ruined my most important dinner, I had to send away for your passport and photograph," Vernon added. "After all, I couldn't arouse suspicion among my clients, could I?"

"No Uncle Vernon," Harry denied, shaking his head.

"And when Marge comes at the end of the month, you'll not say a word of this to her either." Vernon finalized. "Understand?"

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry repeated.

"Instead, you will..." he reminded him.

"I'll be making no noise and staying out of conversations," Harry finished.

"Too right you will," Vernon grinned, nastily. "I'll not have you ruining another visit like when you ruined the one for Dudley's birthday, eight years ago."

He lowered his sausage finger to Harry's chest and poked him into the lumpy mattress that amounted to a bed in his room. Out of the hallway, he picked up a beaten up, olive green duffel and threw it into Harry's face.

Vernon grunted, as he usually did, before stepping out and closing up the innumerable amount of locks.

Harry frowned at his duffel, which had to be the smallest one ever made. It looked only slightly larger than a book bag, which made him wonder what reason the Dursleys had keeping it.

Besides requiring larger duffels for their plus sized clothing, their need for luggage to carry provisions and valuables was even more excessive. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Dudley carried a bag large enough to fit all the junk he used to save after destroying it.

Harry popped open his Hogwarts trunk and poured through it, searching for something to last him the next few days, and something sleep in for the night.

A part of Harry was seriously tempted to mutter something behind Vernon's back. The first word that came to his mind turned out to be "scumbag".

In the years prior to this, Harry was not inclined to swear, but now he was on the verge of his thirteenth birthday. Anyone who has already gone through this phase of life knows that this is a time of great physical changes in a developing adult, not only physical, but emotional as well.

But since his relatives were going to be involved in this trip, anyone else would have told him he was in no position to complain, even if Harry felt he had every right to. Dumbledore especially would have felt this way, given he was the one that left Harry to them.

Ron would probably be swearing behind his parents' backs too during a quibble, but Hermione would have her sights set elsewhere. Perhaps on who this Hammond character really was, or who the other family joining them would be.

Harry shook his head as he pulled out a torn up, oversized faded red t-shirt and an equally torn and faded pair of olive-green shorts. He folded them up and put them to the side of the bed to save them for the morning, and kept digging.

His searching was interrupted by a screeching Hedwig, who seemed distressed about being cooped up in her cage. Harry unlocked the cage and Hedwig stretched her wings, swooping towards Harry's window.

Harry paused for a moment, wondering what to do about Hedwig's lodging situation; with the Dursleys joining him on this trip, it seemed clear that he wouldn't be able to bring Hedwig. There was, after all, a law that prevented underage witches and wizards from using magic outside school.

Mr. Hammond was unfamiliar enough with Wizarding communication, so Harry had to find somewhere for Hedwig to stay. After thinking for a few seconds, he sat back at his desk and quickly scribbled a note.

He wrote,

Dear Weasleys,

I'm going to be out of the country for the weekend and Hedwig needs someplace to stay. Don't worry about where I'm headed to. I'm going to meet someone who knew my parents. He's a muggle, so I won't be able to bring Hedwig with me.

I'd be extremely grateful if you would house her until I return.

Thank you very much,

Harry Potter.

Harry stuffed the note into an envelope before sealing it, addressing it, and placing it in Hedwig's talons.

"Take this to the Burrow," he requested.

Hedwig gave Harry a hoot and a nod of the head before stretching her wings again and gliding over Surrey in the direction of Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Burrow was located. He watched her until she was out of sight and went back to furrowing through his trunk.

Harry removed three more pairs of torn up, oversized shorts and shirts, which seemed to go quite well with the oversized, taped up trainers he usually wore. Where they were going, it seemed having an extra-large pair of close-toed shoes would be helpful.

Harry slipped the clothes into his duffel before going back to the trunk, where he came upon three items he considered his most valuable; his Nimbus 2000 broomstick, his father's old invisibility cloak, and his eleven-inch holly, phoenix feather wand.

These were items he knew better than to bring with him to a muggle establishment; the Nimbus was out because he couldn't let on that he could fly. The invisibility cloak was out because he couldn't expose any muggles to its powers, and the wand was definitely out simply because of the Wizarding World's need to maintain secrecy.

Still, there was a reason these items meant so much to Harry; the Nimbus was bought for him so he could have the fastest brook on his Quidditch team at Hogwarts, for which he played Seeker. The invisibility cloak was given to him as a Christmas present by Dumbledore, being the only surviving possession of his parents. The wand, needless to say, was an important tool for helping him perform magic.

Even still, a broomstick would look suspicious being carried inside a duffel. He'd have to shrink it down anyway, but legalities got in the way of that. A cloak would as well, although to a lesser extent. After all, Harry couldn't necessarily pass it off as a raincoat or some other type of jacket.

The wand, however, had one small advantage over the others; it was a small piece of wood with the appearance of an ordinary, everyday stick found on the ground.

Yet, Harry wasn't completely sure of what airport security measures were. He decided he'd wrap the wand in toilet paper in the morning after he brushed his teeth. In this way, he'd be able to disguise the wand as a breakable antique or even a present.

Harry laid his wand atop the clothes he'd wear in the morning before sticking his hands back in the trunk.

He sifted around for something to sleep in, but he felt his arms could furrow no more. The sky had turned dark and his eyelids were getting heavy, but he still hadn't found anything to sleep in. He pulled off his pants and decided to sleep in his underwear, feeling that warm enough weather was due anyway.

Harry flopped down on his bed pulling the comforter over himself, and tried his hardest to fall asleep. Although he requested that the Weasleys not worry about him, he was certain that Mrs. Weasley would be fussing hard over his whereabouts.

He thought that within minutes of receiving the letter, she'd be writing to Dumbledore, who'd go into conducting a nationwide search for him. He hadn't seen Dumbledore go to those kinds of lengths yet, but knowing his arrival at the Burrow the previous summer, it seemed clear Dumbledore never missed a trick.

Even if his relatives were going to be joining him, Harry was sure to expect some fun out of a zoological park. The invitation was sent to him, so he couldn't be locked in his room all day. Better still, since they couldn't even touch him, so maybe he could even set another python on Dudley.

He was a parselmouth, meaning he had the ability to talk to snakes.

Harry smiled and silently chuckled before he felt sleep overcome his body. He closed his eyes, thinking of what to talk to behind the Dursley's backs; not just snakes, but perhaps other forms of reptile, perhaps crocodiles, or iguanas, or even the Komodo dragon.

For all he knew, he could have built an army and used it as a means of embarrassing the other family going with them.

Ultimately, Harry decided to leave it to his subconscious to decide, since he knew that in the morning, there was going to be a long flight ahead of him./span/p