Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything by J.K. Rowling, now let's cruise.
Evil, Dark Dumbledore/Cunning, trained Harry/Molly, Ron bashing/
Harem: Daphne(betrothed), Fleur(betrothed), Hermione, Susan(betrothed), Padma(betrothed), Tracy (betrothed)
Neville will take over as Boy Who Lived
Chapter 1
"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING, YOU FREAK?!"
A large hand came down a black haired emerald eyed boy. The boy wanted to scream and run away as fast as he but he knew from past experience that doing so would only make it worse. He still carries many bruises throughout his body as evidence to the abuse his so called guardians has inflicted on him. Instead, he'll just have to take it now and escape to his cupboard he called his bedroom when he gets the chance. His uncle was drunk from a few beers with his friends after he was fired from his job. and this made even worse for Harry.
"I ASKED WHAT YOU WERE DOING, ARE YOU DEAF TOO?" Vernon yelled loudly at seven years old Harry Potter
"I'm sorry, sir, I was hungry, sir."
"Oh, so, you're hungry, are ya? You just ate yesterday." Vernon scolded once more.
"Sir, that was 2 days ago."
"Oh, so now you're calling me a liar? HUH?" Vernon took his beating stick and swung it at Harry. The first swing he dodged but the second hit him in the back. He fell down on the floor and curled into a ball, trying to protect his head. This didn't deter Vernon as he continued to beat Harry as hard as he could.
After a while, however, Vernon got tired and stopped. "Oh, so now you're a liar too huh, no food for 3 days, now go to your room, I can't even stand looking at freaks like you. " Vernon turned around to walk back to the couch but not before he threw the stick at Harry and nearly hit him on the forehead.
"Clean up your shit and bring me another beer. Go to your room when you're done."
Harry Potter said nothing and instead just do as he was told.
That night, Harry winced from the pain of the beating Vernon treated him to that afternoon. His back was scarred from previous assaults. His face carried bruises everywhere. His chest hurt immensely as he tried to adjust himself comfortably or what he could manage in his "bedroom". He was sure that one of his ribs was broken after the beating. But he'd been through worse before.
A few months back, in one of his tantrums Vernon crushed Harry's right hand with a blow from a baseball bat. Thankfully, he was able to get away before it escalated any worse. It was through luck, in his opinion, that he healed and was able to use his hand again, though it still hurt at times.
His cupboard barely had any room in it and yet, it was it was the only place where he felt safe since Vernon would always lock Harry in the cupboard after his beatings, and wouldn't bother him further. .
He had no friends or actually anything for that matter. All of his clothes were hand-me-downs from Dudley, his whale of a cousin, and he had no doubt that his walrus of an uncle,Vernon, purposely made them worse before they got to Harry. A boy once tried to make friends with him but Dudley and his gang got to him first and gave him such a beating that when his parents found out about the bullying, they had to move away . Occasionally, a neighbor would see him and help him with some food and water but they can only do so much for Harry.
Harry peeked through a hole in the door of the cupboard. From there, he sneaked a look into the kitchen, where he saw Dudley stuffing his mouth like the pig that he is. One would be surprised how he was still manages to move after eating so much.
Harry, on the other hand, had never been able to eat as much in a week as Dudley ate in a single sitting. He survived by sneaking out of the cupboard whenever Vernon forgot to lock it and steal small scraps of food so the Dursleys wouldn't notice. Even then, the three Dursleys made him into a servant for them, from cleaning to gardening. In fact, because of Harry, Petunia hasn't found a single spot of dust in years.
Seeing Dudley eating the food one minute and the next, it was gone, Harry licked his lips in jealousy. He remembered Dudley's birthday a few months back. He had just finished his chores and was walking into the kitchen when Petunia dragged him by the ear and threw him into his cupboard.
"If I so much as hear a squeak from you at my son's party, I will make sure Vernon gives you the worst beating of your life. Do I make myself clear?"
Harry's face flushed with anger at Petunia. But at that moment, he had to keep it cool or else, he would be in a whole lot of trouble. He nodded and Petunia walked away to the kitchen to feed Dudley.
Another thing was that Harry never knew was what actually happened to his parents. Petunia and Vernon told him that they didn't want to raise a freak like him so they left him but then got into a car accident. Of course, the Dursleys also told him other lies so naturally Harry didn't believe them. He might not remember much about his first year as a child but he still has glimpses of a red-haired woman holding him close and a black-haired man cooing at him and playing with him. These memories, while they were not much, were the only things that kept him going. Though brief and only in memories, Harry couldn't help but feel loved when he thought about those two people, whether or not they were actually his parents.
For his own safety, Harry avoided the Dursleys like the plague. He always did his chores ahead of time and spent his time hiding from them whenever he could. That afternoon, though, he couldn't avoid Vernon fast enough to escape the beating. He was starving and the steak Dudley had last night made it irresistible to him. Unfortunately for Harry, he did not anticipated in Vernon coming home so soon and caught him in the middle of finishing the steak. The beating was probably one of his worst and that was saying a lot considering the scars on his back told a different story.
Sitting in his cupboard for most of the day made Harry realized something. He didn't need to deal with this; there was nothing to stop him from leaving the Dursley. Harry might be hungry for a while but it couldn't be worse than the Dursley, he thought. So for days when he wasn't out working, Harry thought of a plan to escape and today would be the day to execute everything.
Harry quietly sneaked to the basement to grab a suitcase from when the Dursleys went to Florida last year. He packed all the clothes he could fit, which wasn't much. But as he was finished packing up, he saw a chest sitting in the corner of the basement with the initial LE on it.
"LE, ….Lily Evans,... Mom," Harry whispered to himself.
He gleefully blew the dust off of the chest and opened it. The chest was full of stuff from old books to a few dolls. There were a few dresses that Harry thought was girly but then again, he was only seven so it was expected. But there were a few books he thought looked interesting. The few times he was at Ms. Gravely, an old lady across the street, he read all of the books that she had on her shelves. Some of which she actually let him take home with him. These few books may be worthless to others but to him, they were his greatest treasures, indeed they comprised the bulk of what he had taken from his room under the stairs. It was a way for him to forget the pain and tears that accumulated in him for years.
'I'm gonna need some food.' Harry thought as his stomach grumbled. Harry knew that stealing was bad, he didn't need Petunia to say so to know that it was bad, but frankly, at this moment he didn't care. He tiptoed back into the kitchen and found some canned food and ramen in the cabinet. At that moment, clock struck twelve then he could hear the bedroom door upstairs squeak as it opened. Harry immediately hid what he was doing and crawled under the kitchen table, hoping that whoever it is didn't see him. He could hear the stairs squeak every time a step was taken.
Squeak…
Squeak…...
Squeak….
Squeak..
As the sounds of the squeaks gets louder and louder, so did Harry's heartbeat. In fact, he was scared that whoever it was might have heard his heart thumping violently in his chest. From under the table, he saw a figure walked from the doorway to the cabinet. The person was apparently in a rush to find something. The stairs also creaked louder than normally so this couldn't be Petunia. He could only pray that they didn't notice the mess he made. His eyes widened at a sudden thought.
"Could they have known about me' Harry thought.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of Harry and he edged closer to see who it was. His eyes trailed from the floor to the person. This person was very big. Oh, Harry prayed that is wasn't Vernon.
It wasn't. It was his sleepwalking, always hungry son, Dudley. Dudley took a bag of leftover potato chips from the other day and ate it as he walked out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.
Harry sighed in relief and crawled out from under the table.
"Alright, that was close but I need to get this done quickly or else next time, I won't be so lucky." He thought to himself.
Harry rushed back to the basement and stuffed everything into his suitcase. Once he has taken all that he could carry, he quietly sneaked up to the upstairs where the Dursley were sleeping. Petunia and Vernon's bedroom were the biggest room to the right while Dudley's were on the left. His toy room was right next to that and was 5 times the size of Harry's cupboard. But even then, the Dursley felt even that was too good for him. He opened the door to the bedrooms and peeked in. Vernon was sleeping on his back, snoring like cannons going off while his skinny horse faced wife had eye-muffs and eye shades weren't so different. How they managed to not wake the entire neighborhood up with their snoring was something Harry could never understand. Making sure that they were still sleeping, Harry tiptoed to Dudley's bedroom and opened the door quietly. Dudley's bedroom was dreadful to Harry. Since Petunia and Vernon never goes in there, Dudley did whatever he wanted with it. Posters of scantily-clothed women were all over the walls and there were a bunch of used tissues laying on the floor. Harry didn't even want to know where those came from if Dudley's hygiene habits were anything to go by. Blowing a sigh of relief, Harry closed the door and gently walked down to the basement to get his suitcase. He quickly yet still quietly dragged the suitcase out the door and ran away as quickly as he could with it. Once he got far enough, he turned around and looked back. At a distance, he could still see a glimpse of Privet Drive. A single tear of happiness fell to the ground as Harry rejoiced in his newfound freedom as he ran away from Privet Drive, ran away from a prophecy from another world, away from threats from both sides, away from magic.
Excerpt from Daily Prophet:
BREAKING NEWS: THE BOY-WHO-LIVED GONE!?
"Today, at exactly nine o'clock a.m., the Ministry was informed by aurors assigned to the area of Little Whinging Surrey, of what tragically occurred to our hero, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. It was discovered that under the orders of Albus Dumbledore, the esteemed defeater of the former Dark Lord Grindelwald, Mister Potter was left under the care of his mother's sister.
However, under the will left by James Potter and Lily Potter, Harry Potter was not to be left with Lily's sister for fear that her disdain for magic would affect her feelings on the poor boy. The Headmaster, who was present at the will's hearing, defied the wishes of the Potters and left our savior to Petunia Dursley and her husband.
According to a Muggleborn neighbor, Harry Potter was frequently abused by his family and were often made to do things that the savior of own world should not endure. "I told the Dursleys that I wanted to adopt him, the poor boy was suffering from day one with those animals! He was physically abused and constantly yelled at! I saw him limping a couple of times walking around outside. There's no doubt in my mind that that Dudley boy and his gang of no-goods had something to do with it. But whenever I tried to adopt Harry, a strange old man who said that he was his grandfather refused me and said he was well taken care of. I couldn't do anything so I tried to offer him a warm meal or a place to stay whenever I could. I just…..I couldn't believe that…..that poor little boy…..was gone….I'm sorry...I need to go ."
Aurors from the Ministry were given orders to find any evidence of Mister Potter. Furthermore, aurors have been given orders to arrest the Dursleys for 1st degree manslaughter, torture, child abuse, battery, and assault. For these crimes, the Dursley will be sentence to 183 years in Azkaban with no parole. A punishment too light for the kind of crimes these monsters have committed, in this reporter's opinion.
The bigger question is was Albus Dumbledore truly blind to all of this or did he purposely ignore it? Should we leave the faith of our world in the hand of a man with uncertain intent and ignorance of a monstrosity of an act inflicted on Harry by his own family no less?
Dumbledore refused to comment on this and any interview on this matter, but questions like this will not simply go away."
Dumbledore sighed as he put down the newspaper. People have been sending howlers to his office all morning. Some even tried to bring him to trial for his actions against the "hero". He made the mistake of letting Arabella there, she must have blurted everything out to the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore knew he should have obliviated both her and the Muggle woman when he got the chance.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his door opening. McGonagall walked in impatiently, in her hand was a copy of the Daily Prophet. She slammed the paper harshly on Dumbledore's desk, resulting in a small jolt from the Headmaster.
"What is the meaning of this, Albus?" McGonagall roared at the Headmaster.
"Whatever do you mean my dear?" Dumbledore didn't react, merely replied with a twinkle in his eyes, using his grandfather image to help him.
"Don't my dear with me Albus." McGonagall scoffed back, "You assured me that you would put Harry Potter with someone where he was safe. NOT WITH THE DURSLEY."
"Surely you would think that they're family, they must be …" Dumbledore tried to counter but to no avail.
"NO, ALBUS. I was there when James and Lily wrote the will and send it to Gringott. Her sister hated her and would no doubt hated her son, that's why she wrote specifically not to have the Dursley as the guardians!"
"What would you have me do, McGonagall?" Dumbledore asked.
"Find the boy, Albus and put him where he belongs: WITH HIS GUARDIANS!" McGonagall yelled at the Headmaster, a rare action from a normally docile and calm woman.
He took a deep breath and simply thought It was for the greater good. He didn't want to harm Harry Potter, but a sacrifice of one is necessary for the good of many. He knew of what the Dursleys did to Harry, but it was necessary. Harry needed to be manipulated-er, educated in order for Dumbledore to achieve his goals. Dumbledore knew that much. Trelawney, crazy as that woman maybe, was always right about her predictions.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him , born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …
He had allowed Snape to give parts of the prophecy to Voldemort. While the result was a bit excessive than he wanted, it was necessary for him to find the "Chosen One". Perhaps if Lily Potter had survived like he wanted, he could have convinced her to reconnect with Severus Snape, perhaps some persuasions would be needed. Dumbledore knew of Snape's treachery to both him and Voldemort. Snape served no one but himself; selling his service to the highest bidder. Dumbledore was aware of that and Lily Potter would also have been the answer to his problem of controlling Harry to be the sacrifice he needed to kill Voldemort. He mentally scowled at that fool; how dare that half-blood waste Dumbledore's time and effort to teach him and then turning his back on him like that. Pureblood, his arse. Dumbledore of course knew Tom Marvolo Riddle was a half-blood. But yet as a Half-blood, he could manipulate and sway the opinions of many purebloods in his house, something that Dumbledore deemed useful in stopping those Muggle Borns. In his mind, muggle Borns would only hurt the Magical World with their radical thinkings and their desire to change everything. No, the Magical World would need time to adjust and adapt to changes. But of course, Tom was now the Dark Lord and he needed to fix that mistake first.
Yes, his plans was for the greater good. That was it, he only had that left.
"I'm sorry to do this McGonagall but it's for your own good. You're not going to remember this but everything I do is for the greater good of all of us. Obliviate " With that, Dumbledore waved his wand at Mcgonagall and wiped her mind. Mcgonagall's eyes went dizzy and he gestured Fawkes to apparate her away from his office, allowing him time to modify his plans.
But he didn't know how to fix this mistake.
The only answers would be the Potters and the Longbottoms. Harry Potter must be obedient to me when the time came and this was the way to ensure that, yet now…
Now that plan went out the window, Dumbledore wasn't sure of what to do. All of his alert spell on Privet Drive didn't warn him in time of Harry's run away. But even more strange, his tracking spell on Harry seemed to have weared off. Dumbledore had no answer to any of these problems. But more importantly, how would he deal with Voldemort. Perhaps he had to find someone else that could stop Voldemort. Perhaps a certain Longbottom would be more suitable. Augusta had told him how disappointed she was at her grandson, shy and pathetic she says. Yes, that would be even better. Even the Dark Lord's minions made mistakes. He would need to feed some information to Severus and make him work his magic to convince the Dark Lord that Neville was the true "Chosen One". Dumbledore needed a sacrifice and Neville Longbottom will that for him. The whole magic world will once again pray on their knees for the Leader of the Light to save them again and everything would be the way it was.
Harry Potter, well, he'll deal with him when he comes back, if he comes back.
It has been three days since Harry Potter had abandoned the Dursley's home at Privet Drive. He was tired and exhausted from the walking. Since the Dursley never let him go anywhere, Harry didn't have a sense of direction of where he was going and is now clueless as to where he is. One thing he does know though, he was still in Surrey, just not sure of where in Surrey he is. All around him were miles and miles of hills, occasional farmland and tiny cottages.
Carrying a heavy suitcase for any seven year old was tiresome, but even more so for Harry. Grrr. Harry's stomach grumbled for the fifth time in an hour. He ate his last loaf of bread a few hours ago and was now starving. Harry wondered many times whether it would just be better if he had gone back to Privet Drive and hope that the Dursley wouldn't notice he was missing. After all, they didn't remember locking him in the cupboard for nearly a day, he could only pray.
No, I can't go back there and I won't. Harry fiercely shook his head and walked faster, Up ahead on the top of a hill, he saw a bus stop. Grinning to himself, Harry found new determination to never come back to the Dursley.
Harry sat at the bus stop near an abandoned cottage, shivering and cringing at the wind. Thunder roared in the sky and lightning slashed in the clouds; his light clothing protected little from the harsh rain. The rain seemingly mocking Harry, a feeling that Harry couldn't shake off as if it was laughing at him. A wave of sadness and other emotioned filled up in Harry's heart and he broke down. Harry sobbed to himself; after 4 hours of waiting at the bus stop, he simply gave up hope of trying any longer. His short burst of joy when he found the bus stop faded away like a dying candle. After hours of looking around, Harry wondered if there were places for him to stay for the night, but the nearest cottage was miles away and it was getting darker with every passing minutes. Maybe it would be better if I never …
A sudden stop of the rain over his head pulled him from his thoughts. Harry looked up and saw a man holding a dark green umbrella over his head. The man didn't looked that old to him, maybe forty to fifty-ish he reckoned. He had curly short blond hair and a stern-looking face. He wore a brown dress jacket similar to those that Harry see Vernon wear when he goes to an important meeting. Underneath, he had on a gray dress shirt with a bow-tie. If that's not enough, his black trousers and dress shoes looked even more expensive than those Vernon forbid Harry to even look at. He looked like someone who belonged in a boardroom meeting of the next Fortune 500 people than someone who was merely walking in the streets of Surrey. Even so, he had a warm smile that made Harry feel a tad safer and his blue eyes made Harry felt like he could see into the depth of his soul.
"What is that hideous thing you're wearing, my boy, I certainly hope you're not trying to start a fashion trend,? kids these days", he chuckled amusingly, breaking the stern facia of his.
"No, sir," Harry suddenly growled and stood up, "my relatives," he sneered at the words, "believes that "pouring their entire salary down the Thames is better than wasting a single pound on me." he spatted, mimicking Vernon.
After Harry stood up, the old man finally got a better look at him. The old man could only frown at the boy. He was angry at himself and wanted a kick in the leg a bit for his joke. He was enraged at the boy's relative, though. Despite not being a doctor himself, he could identify at least three signs of physical abuse on the boy's arms alone, not to mention how malnourished he is. He was covered in dirt and sod, as well as some hay; he wore very flimsy but baggy clothes meant for someone probably three times his size. The boy actually surprised him a bit, to haul around a suitcase two thirds his size is an amazing accomplishment for a seven-year old boy. Seeing the state that Harry was in, the old man could not help but took pity on him, malnourished and living on the streets was no way for a child to live.
The old man looked up to the sky. Thunder roared even louder and lightning continued snaked, creating a lightshow in the clouds as the rains poured even harder than before. He glanced back at Harry and reach out his hand.
Harry flinched at the gesture and moved back, holding his hands out to shield himself.
"Please don't hurt me." he pleaded, terrified that this man would hurt him like his uncle did.
"I wasn't going to do that." the old man stated sympathetically.
After a few moments, Harry finally calmed down and lowered his hands, hesitantly looking at the man.
"Well, come on then my boy, let's get you somewhere dry and safe shall we?"
Harry, eyes widen at the man's offer, hesitated. He only accepted the offer when his stomach grumbled again, getting a small chuckle from the man.
"Well, it seems your stomach agrees. Tell me, do you like Thai?"
Harry thinks he has just died and went to heaven as he gobbled up the spicy chicken the old man bought for him. At the bus stop, a black car showed up a few minutes picked up Harry and the old man away. They had stopped at a Thai restaurant where the chauffeur ran inside and grabbed two orders for some spicy Thai chickens.
They were currently in the dining of the old man's house. The old man referred to it as a house but really it was more like a castle in Harry's mind. It was easily four times the size of 4 Privet Drive and had an old Medieval-like look to it from the outside. The house was surrounded by hedges with quarry stone laying a path to the door of the house. Passing through the front gate, Harry couldn't help but notice how organized everything was. There was no a single blade of grass out of place. Every type of flower he knew of was laid out in the gardens in front of the house, balanced yet very artistic at the same time. Despite the strictness and the formality of the house, Harry couldn't help but notice it giving off a warming aura, helping to calm his nerves a bit. Inside though was the same story. The house was covered from top to bottom in luxury. From the first floor alone, there was at least four bedrooms and three baths. Every room, whether it be the kitchen, the bathroom or the dining room was decorated with expensive and intricate designs. There was also a massive glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling with stairs running up to the second floor. Murals covered the walls, each telling a different story and tales of woe.
The old man gestured Harry to wait for him in the dining room, which was the first door to the left when they walked through the entrance. The dining room itself was twice the size of that of Privet Drive. Three white walls surrounded the room with smaller but equally lavished chandelier hanging from the ceiling. One wall was a massive window to the outside. It was dark at the moment but Harry wondered what the sight would be like when the weather was better. Harry made himself at home and sat in one of the chairs, looking around, taking in all the new sights.
A few minutes a later, the old man came down from his study, wearing a much more casual robe. He sat opposite from Harry and handed a to-go box to Harry while opening his own. Harry hesitantly opened the box and ate as slowly and timidly as he could. The chicken was probably the best thing Harry has ever tasted. It was sweet and spicy at the same time, yet a hint of lemon zest is just awesome in his mind. However though,Vernon practically ingrained in his mind about food and he was scared that the old man, albeit much kinder than Vernon, would be the same. It didn't take the old man long to notice.
"Why aren't you eating my boy?" he asked.
"...I'm not that hungry, sir." Harry answered nervously. Unfortunately for him, his stomach betrayed him and grumbled loudly; loud enough to make the old man smile a bit.
"Well, your stomach tell me a different story. Don't worry about anything trivial thing; you probably haven't ate in a while so dig in, help yourself." he said kindly.
After that, Harry finally allowed himself to let go and chowed down the chickens quickly、fully enjoying the taste of his delicious dinner. During that time, the butler, whose name he found out was Alfred Pennyworth, brought him a glass of a bubbly green drink. It tasted kinda funny but sweet all at the same time. Alfred apparently called it, Mountain Dew.
After a very satisfied Harry had finished his dinner, the butler came in the room and handed a letter as well as a glass of graph champagne to the old man. The old man glanced at it briefly and tucked it into his robe pocket and gestured the butler to get out. The butler nodded slightly and took Harry's and the old man's finished dinner along with him as he walked out. The old man took a sip of the champagne and then glanced back at Harry.
"Now, then since we're done, what's your name, my boy?" the man asked, wanting to start a conversation.
"My name is Harry….sir, Harry Potter." Harry answered nervously. Harry actually didn't know his name until the Dursley left him at a rundown childcare a few miles away when they were going on their vacations. He had gotten in trouble for not answering when the grumpy old lady called out for Harry Potter. Vernon and Petunia referred to him as "freak" and "monster" at home while Dudley would call him his "punching bag" so he didn't even recognized his name.
Harry was surprised though when the old man's interest in him suddenly perked up even more.
At the mention of his name, the old man widen his eyes and instinctively look at Harry's forehead, looking for a lightning bolt-shaped scar. The scar was where is was supposed to be and the man frowned a bit; his sources told him that Albus Dumbledore had left Harry Potter at his mother's sister's house. He was unaware of the abuse that Harry suffered but clearly it would be something that needed to be addressed.
"Well, Harry, I'm curious about one thing, what do you know about magic?" he asked.
"Eh...I have took a peek at a magician performing a trick for my cousin a couple of months ago." Harry answered, confused at such a odd question.
I see, so those rats hadn't told him of his heritage yet. the old man thought to himself.
"Then do you think magic is real, Harry?" the old man asked.
"I don't think so, my uncle" he half-growled, "forbid me to ever speak of the word and told me that magic didn't exist, he actually tried to get the magician that was performing for Dudley arrested for something, I know not." Harry answered nonchalantly. The old man looked at him for a second, finding a way to continue the discussion without scaring the boy. The old man on edge of Harry's waving trust in him right now so his action right now could make or break Harry's trust.
"I see. Well, I think it's time to show you that magic is real then." the old man said. He pulled a worn out wand out of the sleeve of his robes and waved it around. Suddenly, Harry felt weightless and himself gaining height steadily.
"Wait, what's going on?" Harry exclaimed terrified.
He looked down to the floor; he was at least 6 feet off the ground. The old man gestured the wand again, lowering Harry down to the floor.
"How's that for a demonstration?" he asked with a smile.
Harry looked a bit shell-shocked for a few second and then exclaimed: "THAT WAS AMAZING! How did you do that?!" he asked excitedly, jumping up and down.
"Magic, my boy, magic." the old man answered simply.
"Magic? but it's not real though." Harry said. "My uncle said.."
"That rat is telling you lies, Harry!" The old man growled and slammed his hand on the table. Harry recoiled a bit from the sudden explosion of the normally stern and calm man but soon recovered.
"I'm sorry for that outburst, Harry. To tell you the truth, I have seen many horrible things, but to do this to a child no less. Well, in all my years, I have never heard of such terrible people like your uncle and aunt." the man apologized.
Harry could only nod in understanding.
The old man sighed and continued "Magic is very much real my boy, your parents were pretty famous wizards in our world in fact." .
"You know my parents?" Harry asked, his mood changed rapidly to excitement, hoping for some real answers.
"...No, I unfortunately never had the opportunity to meet your parents, though I'm sure they love you very much if that's what you're worried about." the old man answered hesitantly, knowing Harry would be disappointed at his answer.
Harry slumped down to his chair, another death end, when will find the answers he wanted. He quietly sobbed to himself, unable to hold into himself the wave of sadness that swarmed at him. The old man sighed and walked over to Harry's side and put his hand on Harry's shoulder
"Regardless, I hope that you would come to know me as your guardian, then Harry." Harry stopped sniffling and looked up at the old man, eyes widen.
"What? Did you think I would send you back to those rats. They will pay for their crimes, I assure you." the old man smiled kindly.
"This paper," he pulled out from his robe the same sheet of paper the butler handed to him, "is documentations that you are now my ward. Those rats can't touch you anymore, you are now safe. That is if you want to of course." He handed the paper to Harry to let him see it.
Harry hesitantly took the paper from the old man, and slowly skimp through it. Harry's jaw dropped to the floor.
"But how, ..that's impossible…" Harry gaped at the parchment. That was it, he was free from the Dursley; no more Harry's hunt; no more beating, no more abuse; Harry was free.
"Well, let's say I have connections to pull some strings, but that's a matter for another day." he said turning back to his seat. "In the mean time, while don't you help yourself to one of the beds upstairs, Alfred should have them set up for you already. You had a long day, get some rest first then we'll discuss some more tomorrow. Oh, but make sure you wash up first, the bathroom is the third door to your right on the second stairs, your clothes has already been prepared by Alfred"
Harry looked back down at the paper, the simple piece of paper that meant his entire freedom. "You can have that sheet, and sleep on your decision for tomorrow. I have an extra in case." The old man said.
Harry slowly nodded and got out of his seats.
"Thank you sir." Harry said, pushing in his chair and walked to the door.
"Sir, you haven't given me your name." Harry requested more confidently as he opened the door to walk out.
The old man smiled at Harry's newfound trust in him and answered: "Where are my manners? you're right. Well, Harry Potter, the name is Gellert, Gellert Grindelwald.