Author's Note:

Mkay, first author's note: Let me just say that I consider fanfiction to be a fun hobby. That's it. I enjoy and appreciate the magnificent literary works some have been able to write as fanfiction, but my aspirations are not nearly as high. I'm just a college student that enjoys reading and writing fanfics when I want to have a bit of fun in a creative world. I wrote this months ago, edited it for maybe a grand total of 25 minutes, and that was all. It's rough, I know. The following chapters likely will be as well. Feel free to review and tell me as much. Just know that fanfiction isn't something I stress about or take seriously, it's a way to blow off some steam - my literary playground if you will. I think of a concept that sounds fun and voila, it's in my story. There's no outlining or process of creation, this story is just me having fun on the keyboard while I down hard seltzers and nurse my tea. So please, enjoy my little creation or loathe it entirely - but for the love of god I beg you to not go into this story expecting a literary masterpiece, because it's not one.

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"I just want more from life, you know? I always try to meet interesting people and do fun things, but it feels like something is missing. I guess I'm worried that I'll never figure out what that missing thing is." -Harry Evans to his friend Maya, on a rooftop in London, July, 1990.

Chapter 1:

Green eyes fluttered open, the warmth of the July sun's rays beating down up them. A hand reached up in an effort to shield the momentarily sensitive orbs, the small groan that escaped his lips suggesting that his efforts were for naught.

He let his arm fall over his eyes, seeking the darkness that would perhaps allow Morpheus to claim him once more. Five minutes later, without any sign of the Greek god coming to his rescue, the boy moved his arm. The waking world beckoned and he was once more apart of it.

He had expected his eyes to be greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling; waking up in strange places tended to be a common occurrence during summer. Blue skies and white clouds were a bit different. He sat up to take better stock of his surroundings.

His brain (which had slowly but surely reached a state of awareness) immediately discerned that he was still in London. Regardless of anything else that was a definite positive. Waking up in Bedford had certainly been an interesting experience but once was enough. He was in London and his clothes weren't missing, all other details were tertiary when waking up with few memories of the previous night.

If he was one for dramatics he supposed he could be suspicious on whether or not he was surrounded by corpses or covered in blood, but his life had never been a movie before, no reason to start now.

There were six other bodies laying around him in various positions – and to satisfy the gods of fate, chance, and whatever else may exist just to mess with the lives of humans, they were breathing.

He let his gaze sweep the rooftop looking for... yep, things suddenly made sense. Bottles and cans were strewn around, some half full, some completely empty, but it didn't matter, because now he at least had an inkling of what had transpired. His haze of memories revealed that a friend had invited him to some kind of party and he never was one to turn down an invite. He remembered showing up at an apartment, drinks aplenty, some decent food all things considered, and drug paraphernalia at the very least. Most definitely an apartment and not a roof.

The memories became a blur and then ceased to exist altogether. He didn't know how he'd ended up on the roof. He looked around at the still slumbering individuals and realized he didn't know where his friend was either. Though if he was being entirely honest he didn't care where his friend was, the guy could handle himself just fine.

He extracted himself from the mess of blankets he'd been laying upon, ungracefully rose to his feet, and promptly regretted ever waking. The headache that suddenly chose to manifest itself served as a harsh reminder that despite not having memories of what exactly transpired, the previous night certainly did happen.

He pulled out his sunglasses and a packet of cigarettes, he lit the fag and stumbled over to the railing of the fire-escape. It wasn't a particularly tall building he found himself upon, the height did allow for a startlingly picturesque view of London as it glistened in the mid morning sun. He exhaled a large puff of smoke as he started down the stairs. He couldn't help the small smile that hit his lips as he descended, he really was quite fond of this city.

Upon reaching the ground he sought out the nearest reflective surface available. If he could avoid looking like a complete slob on his way back home, he would. It didn't take long for him to locate a window suitable for the task he had in mind.

His almost shoulder length black hair was still as wild as ever. A rat's nest it most certainly was not, but he'd be damned if his hair wasn't waging a personal war on the laws of physics. A simple but moderately thick silver hoop adorned each ear. His black boots were heavily worn, but still in good condition.

He sported a pair of slim dark navy jeans that were frayed and had a few rips and tears but were otherwise free of mud and stains. A simple black t-shirt worn underneath his green and black flannel shirt completed his look. He was a bit disheveled, and could no doubt go for a shower and some mouthwash, but on the whole, he thought he looked pretty good.

Those who knew him would call this "his look." He certainly didn't own it by any means, but he was rarely seen dressed in any other manner. His entire wardrobe consisted of different colors of the pieces he currently wore.

Were it colder he'd be wearing his sheepskin coat everywhere. A most unique piece to be sure, it was black with gray fur and hung down to lower thigh. The moment he'd seen it among the peddler's wares he knew he had to have it. His savings had taken quite the hit but he'd never regretted his decision.

He turned away from his makeshift mirror with one more glance and a lopsided grin on his face. The trek back home took almost an hour, not bad timing given just how far he had walked. It certainly paid to know shortcuts, cutting through an alley here, hopping a fence there. The bus he'd managed to catch helped too.

Rounding the corner he came upon "home", or the nearest thing he had to it at least. From what he had gathered over the years the buildings had once been a series of Georgian terraced houses that had been converted into one big housing project.

Bless Bethany Morrison's soul. The woman's husband had died in the Korean War. She was young at the time. Only 19 years old and told that her husband died fighting a war god knows where for god knows what. She was too young to be a widow. Beth Morrison wasn't one to bemoan her circumstances though. With financial backing from both her uncle and her late husband's elder brother, the young widow started helping the orphans of Britain. Still only eight years following the end of World War II there were certainly more than enough kids in desperate need of help.

Fast forward 39 years and the still young if asked Bethany is a foster parent to as many kids as legally allowed. The rules may have changed over the years but her heart had not. She never remarried despite numerous offers. She never had kids of her own. Though, if you ask her, she'll vehemently disagree with the latter statement.

Currently there were eight other youths under her care. While he was the oldest now that hadn't always been the case. He'd seen a dozen or so individuals hit their mid-teen years and decide to leave. Never with any malice or lingering sense of malcontent- everyone knew Bethany cared for them. At a certain age most just came to realize that Bethany raised kids, and while not necessarily adults, they weren't kids anymore.

The young ones that were just starting school, the ones that were in need a parental figure that cared, those were the kids that needed her attention and affection. Far more so than the older and far more cynical youths that had seen one too many realities that the world had to offer.

So, eventually they leave. Most didn't appear to have a plan in place or even an idea of where they should go. Whether intentional or not, those under Beth's care seemed to be headstrong if nothing else. Harry had a running bet that it was intentional. Beth always seemed to encourage action; to do something rather than languish away.

So maybe Beth was the reason behind why the youths under her care struck out into the world at such young ages. It certainly wasn't always smart for them to do so, but Beth never fought back on that front. Sure, she teared up at goodbyes, but tell someone not to go? Never. Did that make her a bad parent? Most likely. No one could hold it against her though, she'd never once claimed to be a parent.

He knew his day was approaching. It was why he didn't always come home in the evenings. It was why he carefully budgeted the money he managed to acquire for himself. For some day soon he'd sling a bag over his shoulder, kiss Beth on the cheek, and wave goodbye to the only "home" he had.

He would finish school, of course. Most of the others had at least continued until they were 16 as was the law, but he wanted to actually finish his education. School wasn't exactly hard for him. He didn't lay claim to being a genius, he just had a good memory.

His teachers informed him that University wasn't out the question but he had his doubts. University required money, a lot of money. Day to day spending cash he had. Tuition was a bit out of his price range.

He made his way into the home where the scent of bacon and eggs greeted him. It wasn't fresh at this point but the lingering smell set his stomach off regardless. When he found the kitchen clean and devoid of children he finally cast a glance towards the clock. It was later than he thought...

He shrugged and made his way towards the fridge, pulling out the eggs, cheese, and bread for himself. After a brief search he also located the tomatoes. No stranger to the kitchen, after a few minutes he had a pleasant breakfast sandwich made and the dishes he used cleaned and put away.

Though his food turned out to be rather delightful, the cold glass of water and aspirin proved the saviors of his morning. He could have gone back to bed. Hell, he probably should have given how little sleep he likely got. Turns out mother earth would provide him the perfect excuse. The sun shining through the window was warm, the chair with a cushion comfortable, and the liquid he sipped oh so refreshing. He didn't even try to fight his eyelids as they closed and who could blame him?

He was understandably cross when his serenity was shattered by the sound of someone entering the kitchen. He mentally cursed whichever being realized he was at peace and chose to ruin it.
"Oh, hey Harry!"

His annoyance receded upon hearing the voice that had infringed his content state. He opened his eyes to catch sight of a girl putting water on to boil. Fourteen years old, long brown hair, brown eyes, pouty lips, roughly 150 cm tall, and short though she was the rest of her body was certainly developing. The girl was exceedingly cute and pretty soon she'd be too cute for her own good. And she knew it.

"Sarah," Harry's own lips quirked into a small smile as he greeted the girl. They'd known one another almost four years now. He liked the girl, and as far as he could tell, she liked him. Of everyone he considered himself to be close to, she knew him the best.

"So, where were you last night? No, wait. Let me guess... Ashley, right? Her parents don't lock their liquor cabinet and you definitely smell like booze." Her inquiry was made while still standing next to the stove and Harry almost grimaced. He definitely needed that shower and mouthwash.

"Jealous?" He asked, his small smile morphing into a cocksure grin.

She sent him a deadpan look that left no doubt as to what she thought of his question. "Oh yes, Harry, I am very jealous. I was up half the night wishing it was I in your arms instead.

Harry was impressed by the almost palpable level of sarcasm she managed to convey. He loved talking with this girl. She never failed to bring a smile to his face. The headache he still had pounding away had taken a backseat to his conversation with Sarah.

"Well don't be jealous of Ashley. I wasn't with a girl last night." The eyebrow Sarah raised at him clearly conveyed her doubt at the truthfulness of his statement.

He reconsidered the previous night and continued on. "Rather, I don't recall being with a girl last night. I woke up alone and all clothes where they should be, but there are quite a few hours missing."

"Party?" Taking another sip of water he merely nodded. "Damn it, Harry! Why didn't you invite me?" The reproachful look he cast at her not did not dissuade her from her tirade in the slightest.

"You know I haven't been to a party since Summer started! I know you know because I told you about it the other day so what the hell?"

"Don't bitch at me just because I didn't extend a third-hand invite to some random party."

The diminutive brunette proceeded to glare at him in response. "I'm not a bitch!"

Harry shrugged but otherwise ignored the remark. Only a few seconds had passed when he heard Sarah huff from across the room. "Whatever, but next time you're taking me with you, kay?"

"And why would I do that?"
"Because I'm like a sister to you."
"You're also a bitch."

He definitely deserved the small towel she threw at his face. His laughter proceeded to draw out her own as she continued to prepare her tea. There was no heat to be found in their insults for one another. Harry was convinced their mutual slander was the basis for their bond. The back and forth between them wasn't always clever but it was theirs.

Sarah walked over and claimed the seat next to him, sharing the warmth of the sun as she stirred honey into her drink. "I've just been pretty bored recently, you know?"

He did know. It was the first summer they'd spent without Maya. She'd moved out to Surrey after leaving the house. They saw her occasionally, but the nights spent hanging around London with their "big sister" were in the past. "I miss Maya too."

Sarah shrugged her shoulders, her eyes not leaving the slowly twirling liquid as she continued to stir. "Yeah, but you're you. You deal with this stuff a lot better than I do."

Harry's protest barely reached conscious thought before he squashed it. They both knew he moved on quickly. He did miss everyone that left, but he also knew there was no point in getting hung up on their leaving. Move on or get left behind, as it were.

Harry pondered for a moment as Sarah stirred the honey into her warm drink. "Alright," he said at last. "What do you say we do something fun tonight? You and me?"

She smiled at him over her cup. "What do you have in mind?"

"Cinema?" He had no clue what was playing at the moment but movies were always a safe bet for a good time. Even if they sucked you could laugh at them.

Sarah perked up at the suggestion. "Sounds fun, but you're buying me popcorn."

Harry almost sighed on behalf of his wallet knowing the inevitable candy and drinks that would accompany Sarah's popcorn, but the genuine smile that lit up her face was reason enough to spend a few extra pounds.

OoooOoooO

Green eyes fluttered open once more in an effort to greet the new day. A familiar ceiling stared down at him this time around. Harry had always thought the pattern looked like it was glaring at him. Others that laid down in the bed said that he was crazy, he shrugged off their words and continued in his belief of the malevolent ceiling. If they couldn't see it then clearly the ceiling was glaring at him exclusively.

Thus were the thoughts of a seven year old anyway. Harry realized now that his seven year old mind saw what it wanted to see just as everyone's did. To this day he wasn't entirely sure whether or not the perceived face was obvious and the others were just obstinate or if the inverse were true. Nor did he really care, either way the ceiling remained a ceiling. A familiar one at that.

He was in need of a shower and a fresh start to the day. At least it wasn't raining. Rain seemed to have a way of squashing his reasons to leave the house. Today though, today he was going to be productive. As productive as a jobless almost-sixteen year old during summer break could be anyway.

He'd had fun the previous two nights. He assumed as much about the party at least, and he definitely had a good time with Sarah. The movie wasn't great by any stretch of the imagination, but as it turns out getting kicked out of the cinema made for a more enjoyable experience than actually finishing the film. The long walk back home as they talked about nothing and everything all at once was just the icing on the cake. He really did like the girl.

His morning passed without incident and only two hours after awakening Harry found himself standing outside one of the many used book stores he liked to frequent. He'd buy a book on the verge of falling apart, he'd read it in a few days, then he'd sell it elsewhere. If no one was willing to buy he'd keep it. He usually only kept his favorites but he was wont to throw anything away.

His funds weren't expansive, but he could easily fit cheap books that were missing covers into his budget. Especially when he supplemented his supply by visiting Foyles. Bloody place was so big no one ever noticed him slipping titles into his coat.

So there he was, walking into Connor's dingy little shop with a worn copy of The Neverending Story gripped in one hand. He had enjoyed the book quite a lot. The characters mirrored one another just as the two halves of the narrative did. With such an imaginative world it was difficult to not become enraptured in the fantasy.

The Nothing though... whatever the hell that wasn't could stay the hell away from him. Harry tended to value his existence more than anything else, and the Nothing was anathema to that line of thought.

Harry walked into the small shop, the bell on the door alerting Connor to his presence. He didn't see the man behind the counter, but he was the owner and sole employee so it was a safe assumption that the man was in the building somewhere. More so than many of the other secondhand bookstores found around London, this little hovel appealed to Harry because most of the works strewn around the shelves were fantasy books. He'd read anything he could get his hands on, but the fantastical called to him in a way he couldn't quite explain.

He did read other genres, he'd gotten his hands on a number of the classics over the years: Alexandre Dumas' works were brilliant, he still thought Jane Austen was overrated, Shakespeare's plays whilst inspired really ought to be seen not read, and Lewis Carroll's most notable works proved to be as entertaining as they were mind boggling.

He even read some non-fiction, though he never purchased those books. He turned towards non-fiction when he had questions that needed to be answered, and as long as he didn't leave the local libraries with any of their books he was never questioned.

Eventually he made his way to the counter, a book in each hand. The shop's proprietor still no where to be seen. "Connor? You there, mate?" Harry dropped A Neverending Story on the counter and mentally shrugged. He knew Connor, the guy was probably on the piss again somewhere in the back. He wasn't about to complain about the easy opportunity; with his new book "The Magician" in hand, he walked right out of the store, back into the sunlight once more. Harry doubted the man would even notice that the book on the counter hadn't been his that morning.

Rather than returning home he made his way towards Southbank, the skate-park specifically. He had no real interest in skating but it was where people like him congregated, and so he went. Plenty of people that weren't at all like him also showed up at the famous space, but birds of a feather, as they say.

Harry lit another fag as he arrived at the skate-park. It was almost noon and there were no signs of rain, so plenty of other youths had already gathered. That would likely be the case even with rain. Situated under a bridge right next to the Thames, this concrete haven was as safe from the elements as you could get whilst still being outdoors.

Some eyes followed him as he claimed his usual spot. He was still quite pleased that he even had a recognized spot. Sit on the same ledge in a corner for over two years and people start to acknowledge it as yours. No one made any move to speak with him as he took a seat and began reading his new book. He occasionally let his eyes wonder over the people gathered. He knew almost all of their names but was only personally acquainted with a handful.

If someone wanted to talk with him, they'd make the first move. He wasn't antisocial by any means, but anyone who knew him would be able to say that he wasn't the most outgoing either. Besides, he'd actually opened a book this time rather than sit in the shade and call out to some of the more friendly faces scattered around. Harry could've gone anywhere if he wanted genuine peace and quiet, but he appreciated the hum of his peers engaging and acting like the teens they all were while he read. He took some ounce of comfort in not being a recluse that hid away. Most of the people that gathered here were like him, forgotten by the greater world as they just try and survive.

They were London's misbegotten youth and this spot was theirs. So they gathered to share cheap cigarettes, ask the older teens to buy them some booze, bitch about their parents, and swap stories of their plans to make it in this cold, cold world. Today though, Harry was content to let that be the background as he enjoyed his new book. It wasn't an overly complex tale by any means but it was entertaining. A single thought kept popping up throughout the early chapters... who in their right mind would ever name a kid "Pug"?

OoooOoooO

Only an hour had passed when a young boy's voice suddenly cut through his reading.

"HAAAAARRYYY!?"

An audible groan sounded from Harry's lips. He knew that voice all too well. Jim was a good kid, honestly he was. But by the gods he wouldn't know subtlety if it kicked him in the ass. Harry knew, he'd tried. Jim's ability to cause a scene where none needed to exist would be downright impressive if it wasn't so damn obnoxious.

There was no point in trying to hide. Harry rose from his surprisingly comfortable seat and walked over to the eager ten year old.

"Harry! Beth sent me to co-" Jim's explanation was cut short by Harry swatting him on the back of the head with his book.

"Ow! What was that for?" Jim looked up at the older boy with indignant eyes.
"Yelling for no reason. We've talked about that. Numerous times now actually."

Jim's mumbled reply was lost as the two began to walk back towards their home.

"Hm? Didn't catch that?"

"I said you still didn't need to hit me... jerk." Jim's hand still rubbed the sight of the impact though his words lacked all hints of bitterness.

Harry smirked at the insult and chose to let it slide. He had already hit the brat. "How come Beth wants to see me?"

Jim perked up at the question. "Oh yeah! Well, some lady showed up and wanted to speak with you. Since you weren't at home Beth asked all of us if we knew where you were. I said I had an idea and ran off..."

Jim had to turn around as his words trailed off. Harry had abruptly stopped walking, an intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"This woman- who is she?"

Jim frowned, his head slightly cocked to the side. "No idea. I didn't ask."

Harry closed the distance between them and looked the younger boy directly in the eyes. "Is she a cop? Was there a cruiser out front?"

Jim's small frown turned into a nervous expression as he shook his head. "N-no. She didn't seem like one from what I saw. No car out front either."

Harry stepped back from the boy but the intensity of his gaze didn't fade in the slightest. The reassurance of a ten year old meant almost nothing to Harry. If the woman was a cop what did she know? How did she know what she did? Was she there to ask questions or make an arrest?

"Ah, fuck me sideways, goddamn it-" Harry bit off his string of curses as he stuck cigarette in his mouth. He'd have to return to the house to face the music. If she was a cop and he ran he might as well declare his guilt right to her face. Hopefully they were just there to ask questions and he could lie like there was no tomorrow.

"What's the big deal? Why does it matter if she's a cop?" The small frown was still present on Jim's young features. Though the anxiety had fled, puzzlement had taken its place.

Harry turned an incredulous look to the ten year old as if to ask "are you serious?" The confusion on his face reminded Harry of just what sort of reaction he'd demonstrated to the kid. He barely held off another string of curses as he quickly pondered how to explain away his behavior. Honesty was immediately discounted. Time to lie then. Like all good lies it would also have to be true. God what a day this was turning out to be.

Harry eased his expression as he leaned up against the nearby wall and took a long drag. "Sorry if I scared you Jim, it's just that cops... you don't want them asking about you, alright?"

Truth.

Jim moved to rest against the wall as well. "How come?"

Harry took another long drag as he considered just to what degree he wanted to poison the mind of a ten year old against law enforcement. "If they're asking about you it means one of two things: They either think you've broken the law, or they think you know about someone that broke the law and that you could've been involved."

Some omitted details but otherwise still true.

Jim's eyes widened. "Neither of those sound great."
Harry hoped Beth never learned of this conversation. "Certainly not. Even if you're innocent the fact that they think you've done something wrong means you're in for a veritable shit-storm of a time.

Hyperbolic, but not a lie.

Jim let out a small breath and looked up at Harry. "So you didn't break the law?"

Later on the kid would either hate Harry or think this was hilarious. Coin flip really. "Of course not, Jim. It's just that some of those people you saw at the skate-park have a reputation. I spend a lot of time down there and so the cops probably assumed I'm like those that do break the law."

Lie.

Harry broke off from the wall and resumed walking with Jim trailing slightly behind. "So now you're in for a... shit-storm?"

Harry looked down at Jim and blinked slowly before an amused laugh sounded from his throat. It was full and sincere. Oh god, this kid!

Several seconds elapsed before Harry finally got himself under control. "If that woman is a cop, then definitely. Most definitely indeed."

When they arrived back home Harry was surprised to see that Jim's observations had proved to be accurate. There weren't any police cars in the immediate vicinity. That didn't assuage all of his fears but it certainly eased the tension.

Harry sent Jim on his way once they stepped into the house. He was confident Jim wouldn't share their conversation with anyone. Most of the kids seemed to look up to Harry for some unholy reason he had yet to determine. It was probably just because he was the oldest; but for all he knew they were conducting seances at night and it was the voices that told them to follow his example. Either way, Jim wouldn't spread the knowledge that cops were bad news. Hopefully.

"Beth? Someone wants to talk to me?" Harry's voice called into the house. Though there were half a dozen children at play he didn't have to shout. His voice was already fairly deep for his age so it tended to carry well.

Beth rounded the corner but a moment later. Her graying blonde hair fell loosely just above her shoulders, the warm smile on her face showing her laugh lines right next to her vivid blue eyes. Given her age and conscious decision to raise dozens of kids the woman looked fantastic. "Ah, Harry dear!"

She walked over, laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and began to guide him towards her study. The study that she only used for official business. If Beth didn't seem so unconcerned he would no doubt be planning how best to grab his bag from upstairs and flee the house. "I'm glad Jim knew right where to find you, I would've hated for her to have to come back tomorrow."
Harry stopped walking shortly before the hallway that led to the study. "Speaking of, who is this woman and why does she want to speak to me?"

Beth must have been able to discern something in his tone because the woman began to lightly laugh. "Relax, hon', you aren't in any trouble. I'll let her introduce herself but she's here to talk to you about school."

Damn she was perceptive. He supposed that was what happened when you raised who knows how many kids and watched as each and every one went through puberty and a "rebellious phase". Beth probably saw right through him and he'd never even noticed.

The mention of school mentally made him pause. It was the middle of summer and he always kept up his grades so what could this woman possibly want to speak with him about? Unless Mrs. Hammon set something up? Harry knew that Mrs. Hammon wanted to see him go to University at some point. Was it possible she'd set up a meeting with some kind of scholarship official? Surely it was too early for that? Surely she would have told him?

Harry tended to avoid optimism in his life, but as he continued to run through reasons as to why a school official was meeting with him he gained a small measure of - dare he say it - hope.

Harry followed after Beth as she opened the study door. The room in question wasn't remotely ostentatious but nor was it spartan. An elegant mahogany desk dominated the room with bookshelves and cabinets lining the wall behind it. Two patterned guest chairs sat angled in front of the desk, Harry knew from experience they were surprisingly comfortable. The light in the room came from the two windows that took up the majority of the left-hand wall alongside the standing lamp in the corner of the room.

Harry's eyes flitted across the room only briefly before settling upon the woman that had rose from one of the chairs upon their arrival. The woman had rather pointed features complete with a narrow nose and high cheekbones. She had a stern but not unkind look on her face and her hair was pulled up into a neat bun. Dressed in a simple but elegant white blouse tucked into a modest blue skirt, small cylindrical glasses resting on her face, it really wasn't difficult to imagine this woman worked in education.

He was puzzled by her age, at first glance she seemed to be an attractive woman in her early forties, but the more he looked the more he was unsure. There were no wrinkles adorning her features but she was decidedly not young. In a way she appeared almost ageless, any guess he made would have a twenty year range involved.

"We found him!" Beth's voice broke him away from his assessment of the woman's appearance. "I'll just leave you all to it then. Feel free to come find me if you need anything."

Harry waited for the door to close following Beth's exit to introduce himself but was beaten to the punch. "Harry Evans, I presume?" She said, stepping forward and extending her hand.

"Yes Ma'am, that's me." He shook her hand and idly noticed the grace that seemed to accompany her movements alongside the Scottish accent.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, I am a Professor and Deputy Headmistress at a prestigious boarding school in Scotland."

Harry had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat at the woman's, no, the Deputy Headmistress' introduction. He had never been fanatical about his education, but the fact that he was having a conversation that could very well change the trajectory of his life was not lost on him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, please, take a seat."

She took the offered chair she had already risen from with a nod of thanks as he claimed his own seat next to her. He could feel his anticipation rising as she turned slightly to face him. She seemed to take pity on his mounting nervousness as a small smile eased her strict countenance. "Well Mister Evans, I imagine you're curious as to just why I'm here?"

Harry laughed lightly and nodded his head. Don't fuck this up! Be respectful! "Yes Ma'am."

If possible the Professor seemed to sit a bit straighter. "I'll be blunt then, Mister Evans. I am here to offer you a place at my school for the upcoming year and to discuss the circumstances surrounding your enrollment."

Harry didn't even try and fight the large grin that formed on his face. Decorum be damned, assuming this wasn't a cruel joke or scam, the entire course of his life had just shifted. "Please tell me you're not joking, Ma'am?"

Her smile seemed to grow ever so slightly at the sight of his elation. "I assure you Mister Evans, this is no joke. While we have plenty of details to discuss, the offer of your attendance this Autumn is genuine."

At that moment Harry couldn't have cared less about the details. A prestigious boarding school had reached out to him... his life wasn't doomed to become one of living on the streets and turning to crime. He'd always been a poor orphan just trying to get by, and now he might finally have a chance to reach for more... Grin still in place he made eye contact with the Professor once more. "I accept!"

With her own matronly smile still in place the Scottish woman nodded and pulled out a letter. "There are some details we have to go over first Mr Evans, but I think its best if we get the biggest concern out in the open first."

Harry was still high on his own excitement when bemusement suddenly took center stage. The envelope was of a rather thick and distinctly yellow parchment. Far from what he would've expected a letter to be delivered in this day and age. It certainly wasn't worn or aged, but the make was unlike anything he'd seen. His confusion continued to rise when he read just how it was addressed...

Mr. H. Evans

The Third Bedroom on the Second Floor

552 Springfield Road

London

The only other marking on the envelope was a wax seal bearing a coat of arms featuring a large H and a number of different animals.

"I have a question for you, Mr Evans," Harry's eyes looked away from the strange letter and met the Professor's own. "Have you ever seen something that you couldn't explain? Have you ever experienced something that didn't make sense? Done something with no idea of how?"

Harry's mind immediately went to the time that he'd fallen from a second story window and gently floated to the ground... an incident he'd dismissed as his own delusion. Or the time when he saw a woman seemingly vanish into thin air shortly after ducking into a side-street when she thought no one was looking... but surely he just missed when she took a turn?

Harry didn't know for how long he'd maintained his stunned silence until the Professor continued. "The world is larger than what you've been led to believe, Mr Evans. You've always known this but stubbornly tricked your own mind into seeing otherwise. The things you've done, the things that have happened to you weren't dreams or adrenaline fueled delusions."

Harry could feel his pulse racing even as he didn't move an inch. His gaze not breaking away from the woman who was turning his entire world upside down – or right side up, as it were. The heavy breaths Harry couldn't help but take were the only sound to permeate the quiet study; the expected noises of children playing and the bustle of Beth trying to wrangle them somehow not reaching into the room. His words, soft in tone, were only that much more pronounced.

"What are you saying, Professor?"

"Magic is real, Mr Evans – and you are a Wizard."