Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, why would I post a story on the net?

Note: To those confused or feel offended: Okay, the idea of the two characters of Harry's past, they're not religious at all in a technical sense. They just play to the ignorance of others toward the religions that may be mentioned and people's mindset of what they should be just by what they look like or any other general stereotypes. I'm sure you're aware that people make stereotypes on others. It's just a private joke between Harry and themselves. So I hope that is understood and I hope you understand that I'm not trying to be offensive. I actually know the differences, but I wanted to make a joke toward those that didn't and maybe get them to read and be interested. Perhaps study the differences, per say. So I'm hoping that that is cleared up, now please enjoy. And, no, this story isn't focused on religion. Thank you.

Prologue

I had met them years prior. My cousin and his posse had been chasing after me… Harry Hunting they called it. I was seven, I think. Maybe six? I can't remember. It was years ago.

I had streaked past the park, a lot faster than the lot behind me, and tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. I practically flew through the air. Today I would find doing that amazingly hilarious, but as I was young, I panicked. However just as I was about to land and, no doubt, skid across cement, I was in someone's arms.

It is reasonable to panic in that situation. I did so with much tears. I had already been beat on by my cousin and his gang and now here a pair of arms held me, saving me from my painful near encounter with the cement.

I practically fled from the arms of my savior and surveyed the area frantically, horrified that they may catch up now due to my inexhaustible clumsiness. They were, however, nowhere to be seen. I tried to calm down, but the tears just poured out more furiously than before.

"Are you all right, little one?" I heard the deep foreign baritone ask.

I swung back around to look at him with surprise. I had never heard anyone in the neighborhood address me ever. My Aunt and Uncle kept a he's a criminal rumor floating about and nobody would talk to me. Gods, I was how young and they all believed I was some sort of juvenile?

"Y-yes, sir," I replied softly, peering up at him with bewilderment.

Even now I describe him in this way: He was gorgeous. I guess for a little kid I had pegged him as that and, nowadays, I like to think something like that of some guy who saved your ass seems a bit cheesy. Especially when you're seven. Seven year olds shouldn't think that of anyone. Especially seven year old boys.

At least, that's what I think now.

But he was gorgeous. He had that smooth, flawless Middle Eastern or Indian dark skin and that pitch black hair that was cut into short spikes. He had a face that seemed beautiful and, at the same time, masculine. His eyes were his greatest asset though. Instead of the normal black coffee eyes you would usually expect from someone (Hey, I was young at the time! I had a right to stereotype!) of that race, his eyes were the color of honey brown, glowing with bemusement and concern at that time.

He was also very tall. Over six foot, in fact. He wore jeans, a dark red t-shirt, and a beaten-up black leather jacket. A pair of sunglasses perched on his nose and he peered over them at me. Broad shoulder, small waist, and somewhat ebbed with muscles. You could tell by looking at him that he wasn't someone to be toyed with.

"What were you running from?" he asked kindly as he crouched down in front of me.

I noted that he still towered over me. "M-my cousin and his friends, sir."

"Is that who gave you all these?" he asked, gesturing at my bruised face.

I couldn't seem to lie to him even when I tried. "N-Y-yes, sir." My cousin and friends gave a majority of the bruises face-wise, but my Uncle gave the unseen ones. Though I wasn't about to tell him that.

He looked at me for a moment before presenting a wide smile with canines a bit longer and pointier than normal. I skipped over the surprise of the whole teeth bit as I took a step back. I never did trust anyone during that time, not after all the abuse I had been given. I guess it's normal. I never did think it was abuse until I read about it in the school library. I had always believed it to really be my fault, but even if it was my fault, I can't discount the facts. There's limitations in discipline. I knew that now.

"Would you mind terribly joining me for tea?" he asked after he eyed a group of kids coming down the walkway I had been racing down previously. "My sister and I were about to have a cup."

Usually I had more common sense, but I decided that he was the lesser of two evils as I caught sight of my cousin. I turned back to the man and nodded. He led the way into the house which was right next to the park. He opened the door to the house and ushered me in.

"What's your name, little one?" the man finally asked.

"H-Harry Potter," I replied with a slightly even voice.

He looked down at me with a smile and offered his hand, "My name's Amar Singh."

I looked at his hand for a second before shaking it and snatching my hand back quickly. You couldn't really blame me. I was not on even ground. I wasn't in my turf and even if I was, the guy could knock me about rather well if he wanted to.

Perhaps I should have gone back to my Aunt's?

"Amar, who in the name of Allah are you-?" I heard a lighter, musical accented voice growl as a woman stalked down the stairs before pausing and going red in the face.

She had the feminine version of beauty of her brother and the same honey brown eyes. Her dark skin seemed to glow as she wore a casual sky blue dress with black jeans underneath. She was short, probably five-foot-one, and had the figure that most women would exchange their souls for. Both wrists were covered with gold bangles of various designs and her ears were pierced with golden hoops in them. Her hair, however, dropped down to her waist in a sleek tumble of pitch black waves. I could tell she was younger than her brother. Overall, she was very beautiful.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly before giving a dazzling smile (with the same odd canines that were longer and pointier) filled with warmth. "I didn't realize we had a guest. I'm Mira Singh, by the way." A second later, her eyes widened and a frown appeared on her face. "Oh, dear, what happened?"

She swept past her brother and kneeled in front of me. She swept her hand gently down my bruised left cheek and her eyes seemed to spark red for a second. I stood stock still as she examined my injuries.

"Well I'm sure a cup of tea will make you feel better," she stated as she grasped my hand in her own as she got to her feet and led me into the kitchen where a small table with four chairs were situated.

I was surprised at how large the kitchen was compared to the one back at my Aunt's. This one was big enough to do mass loads of cooking. Mira chuckled as she went to start making the tea after catching my expression.

"That's why we bought this place," she stated matter-of-factly. "I do catering for lavish events and prefer large kitchens."

Amar strode into the kitchen and went to the fridge and looked in it with a broad grin. I caught sight of the inside and it was stocked with more food than I'd ever seen a fridge hold before. Amar pulled out bread, some meat, and some other items before going about making a sandwich while putting the food back into the fridge once he finished with it. He walked toward the table and gestured for me to sit. He placed the plate in front of me.

I must have looked even more bewildered for he started laughing, "I thought you'd be hungry. You're very small for a boy who the neighbors tell us gets into large heaps of trouble." His eyes twinkled with mirth. "We might as well energize you for your mischievous cause."

I couldn't help it. I started to grin. Then I started to laugh.

"You're bribing me with food to cause mischief?" I asked, laughing.

He frowned, but that didn't hide the humor in his eyes. "What does a kid know about bribing? If I was bribing you, you'd know it."

Mira started to giggle which resulted in all of us laughing. I felt more relaxed at that moment than I had ever felt before. It seemed at that moment I had found where I belonged.

During the following years before I left for Hogwarts, I had stayed with them for most of the time. They affectionately called me Surendra (Suren for short) within the first few weeks after we met. It was Indian for 'Lord of Gods'. It didn't really cause that much problems. It kept me safe from my Uncle and my Aunt never complained as I made sure to complete all my chores. My cousin teased me mercilessly about the two adults being my babysitters, but that wasn't really the case. I just felt at home with them.

The three of us talked about everything. I always arrived at their place right after all my chores, which were done after school, and did my homework. Amar, who worked at all hours of the day on his articles (he was a free-lance journalist that worked for several magazines), always helped out with my work. He really enjoyed the fact that I loved to read and write. It was something we shared in common. That and we shared our moments of immaturity together. That drove Mira up the wall sometimes.

However she and I always got together to discuss new recipes and play with their Bengal cat Nitya. We also read different novels together and discussed them. We were both fanatics about animal rights and living conservatively. That drove Amar up the wall.

What drove me up the wall is when they'd ruffle my hair or sneak up on me when I was doing work. Though it was all in fun. We enjoyed each other's company. We were family.

When I found out that they were vampires, I didn't care. As long as they didn't bite me to change me or something worse, it didn't matter. Not that I really believed them. Not until I heard about me being a wizard.

They had to have known that when they first heard my name, I realize. Though it was like it didn't matter. The whole fame was something they could care less about. They cared about me. Just Harry.

When I was first introduced to the wizarding world, I nearly had a fit. They knew. KNEW!

But after a reasonable discussion on why they didn't tell me, I felt better. I knew they never lied to me, but that didn't stop them from leaving out things once and awhile. Like how they were both assassins that decided to quit early and lead a new life. However they were both being dragged back into it right before I started my first year.

They told me that they were going to be working as assassins-turned-personal-bodyguards and they didn't know how long it would be until they came back. I was miserable at the news. When would I see them again?

Over the next three years, I made do. I went to school and played the good kid. I wasn't as immature as most thought of me. I was rather mature. You'd only have to get through the childish mask I wore just to see that though. I did think situations through, I just didn't seem to care about the injuries in result.

As a result of my wanting to convert back to the muggle world (I had given it serious thought these past few months), I decided to just get the rest of my books for the following years with extra ones. No one knew that I wanted to leave the wizarding world. Not that they could understand. I just felt home in the muggle world. I wasn't running away, I was just going with what my heart led me to. The fact that Amar and Mira showed up today was pure genius, miracle-wise.

Now all I had to do was discuss my idea with them. That wouldn't be hard. Would it?

Author's Note: I did do research on the religion and later you'll note that the Singh duo traveled much like gypsies (or in this case TRAVELLERS) and convey a private joke with one another about what they might be and what others think they are. I just think it's funny and wanted to have characters think it's funny that just because of how you look or what your name might be that people just assume your religion or ethnic background. However as a note, I don't like to think of them as really religious and Harry just picked a religion that suited him. Actually, I like to think he's picked and chosen what relates to him instead of just being entirely one. To the reviewer who said I insulted them: Had you read further, you'd have gotten the ploy I was writing. Considering that I actually like studying a far range and understand what I'm writing about before I write about it, I am insulted that you couldn't have gotten past just the prologue before seeing further evidence to give you the right to say I insulted you and your religion. I have no problem with both and thank you for pointing it out to me that I may have done wrong. However I did do research and know the name Singh is actually related to the Sikhs. I just hope this clears up any confusion for others and maybe the person who gave me said review if you do in fact return.

Also to this reviewer, not everyone with the name Singh is Sikh. Just like not everyone with the name Lynch is Irish Catholic. People as a whole are just a group, but remember this: The group is still filled with that of individuals with many similarities and just as many differences.

And, no, I'm not being insulting, just literal. However I am just stating this for clarification to everyone reading this, not goading you or anyone else.

Thank you.