Disclaimers: The author does not own anything associated with Harry Potter, Gundam Pilots, or Disney's Pinocchio.

Notes about this chapter: I have made the Potter's a little bit older in this story to make things work.

There is also mention and mild description of abuse and injuries.


"If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme. When you wish upon a star, as dreamers do, fate is kind. She brings to those who love the sweet fulfillment of their secret longing." - Jiminy Cricket (From Disney's Pinocchio)


Chapter One

Days turned into weeks and whenever Harry found the time, he continued to write in his journal. Most days, he was too tired from the chores assigned to write, but on the days where he spent most of his time locked inside his room, Harry would spend a few minutes chronicling every misdeed of the Dursley's. He poured his soul into its pages, barring his miserable life for anyone to read. However, infrequent his journal entries were, he always wished the same thing: a family member besides the Dursley's that would take him in and put an end to the abuse.

It was after one particularly, grueling punishment that Harry, blindly, due to the swollen eye and broken glass, that he pulled out his pen and pad and through the tears, wrote for the first time that week.

Dear Diary,

I try, I really do try my best, to finish all my chores on time and do a good job. Day in and day out, I try my hardest to complete every task they assign to the best of my abilities. Yet, I fear that my best efforts will never be good enough for my Aunt and uncle.

To them, I am a mistake. A screw-up. A freak-of-nature. A lazy, good-for-nothing freak who is determined to make their lives miserable.

Sometimes, it's all I can do to remind myself that I am none of these things, or at least, I try hard not to be any of those things.

I try to do all my chores on time, and I try to be quiet so that it will be easier for them to pretend that I don't exist. I try to do everything they ask me, no matter how hard, or dangerous, or how much it might hurt me in the end, but I guess the keyword is try.

Just this morning, Uncle Vernon took a belt to my back because I burned the bacon for the second morning in a row. I was trying to poison him and Dudley. I might not like them, but I wouldn't ever try to poison them. Never, ever.

And if that wasn't enough, he also punched me around a little bit, causing marks to my face. Aunt Petunia wasn't pleased about it, seeing as we have to go to the Preventer's Office in London. Apparently, there is a new law or something that states that everyone has to register to see if they have a family member that was separated due to the war but that I was at school and couldn't go when the Dursley's went. And that was something the Dursley's were, or at least, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley: upstanding and law-abiding citizens.

Wouldn't it be something if I did have a sibling or something? I suppose it is possible that I could have an elder sibling, as they were 24 years old when they had me. But mum and dad would have had to have been awfully young. I wonder if they would be a "freak" like me…. But that would be impossible because I am, and will always be, the only child of James and Lily Potter.

Harry

Harry heaved a huge sigh. He still had an hour before the Dursley's were going to leave. He supposed he ought to try and do something about his face. There was no way his Aunt would let him out of the house with a bloodied nose and lip. As for the black eye, there was little he could do, not that Aunt Petunia would care. Although she might actually try to cover it up with make-up considering she had, for once, intervened in his uncle's disciplinary attempts earlier.

It was about fifteen minutes later; Harry had deemed himself about as presentable as he was going to get. He knew it wouldn't satisfy his Aunt by any stretch of the imagination- what with his messy hair, pale, somewhat gaunt appearance, and the most recent bruising and bloodied face- but at least it was better than the alternative.

To Harry's surprise, his Aunt actually had tried to apply a little bit of make-up. Just enough to try to "get some color on his cheeks" like, she would care about that. But he supposed for appearance's sake it was probably better for him to not look so unwell.

It might cause suspicion, and that was the last thing he needed or wanted was someone- no matter how well-meaning they were- snooping where they had no business snooping. Of course, if these people the Dursley's were taking him to see today were as official as the Dursley's made them out to be, it might be a good thing to arouse their suspicion.

Harry sitting idly on his bed, trying to keep as quiet as possible, was startled when his Aunt reappeared in his room.

She never entered his room if she didn't absolutely have to. Hesitating at the door, she looked around once, sharp eyes clearly finding fought in everything she saw. Stiffly, as if expecting something to attack her, his Aunt walked briskly to him before grabbing him and pulling him up by his arm.

"Listen here, boy," she hissed, "This trip today would not be necessary had you not been at that freaky school of yours. Vernon and I are only going because it is required, and it's against the law to not register. You keep your mouth shut, head down, and do everything they ask of you, or you will get it when we return. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded his head to show that he understood; however, his Aunt wanted to hear it.

"Do you understand?" She repeated, giving him a rough shake as if trying to force the answer out of him.

"I understand! No freaky stuff and no talking." Harry said, gasping as pain erupted throughout his body at his Aunt's mistreatment.

"Good," she sniffed before pointing at the open door. "Get out, and get in the car."

Harry scampered, not wanting to get another tongue lashing from his Aunt or an actual lashing from his uncle.

The car drive to the Preventer's Office was silent. Harry spent his time trying to avoid his cousin's whines and punches and staring out of the window. Harry was surprised when his uncle warned Dudley to be on his best behavior.

Harry wasn't sure he had ever heard his uncle ask Dudley to behave. As far as he knew, his cousin couldn't do any wrong, at least in his parent's eyes.

Harry knew that either the Dursley's were trying to impress these Preventer agents, or they wanted to appear as normal as possible. Harry suspected the first because the Dursley's had never told Dudley not to punch his cousin, no matter what the circumstance was.

It took a while, and several choice words later on his uncle's part, but eventually the Dursley's plus Harry arrived at the Preventer's London Headquarters, and found a place to park.

Once Vernon had repeated his Aunt's earlier threat, the four of them made their way into the receptionist area of the lobby.

When the woman behind the desk did not acknowledge them right away, his uncle cleared his throat loudly to gain her attention.

"I am Vernon Dursley, here with my wife and son. We have an appointment for the boy," he pointed roughly in Harry's general direction, "to get registered."

The woman who up until that point, had been working diligently at her computer, gave a glance at the family in front of her, eyes lingering a second longer on the dark-haired child, not that Harry knew this as he kept his head bowed, before waving them off. "Take a seat, and someone will be down in a while to collect him," she said briskly before turning back to her computer and ignoring them.

Muttering loudly at the woman's abrupt and rude dismissal, his uncle ushered his wife and son over to the small seating arrangement across the room. Harry grudgingly trailed behind and was going to sit a distance away from the Dursley's, but a sharp look from both his Aunt and uncle, made him think better of it.

Normal. Harry's Aunt and uncle wanted to appear like a typical loving family, even if that meant that they had to put up with him for a short while.

Why the Dursley's were so adamant that they appear to be "normal" in this particular instance, Harry didn't know, but he thought it was kind of funny. Not the humorous type of funny, but the out-of-disbelief kind of funny, but… well, Harry wasn't sure who they were trying to fool.

Harry estimated that they had probably waited about twenty to thirty minutes before someone came down for them. It was twenty or thirty minutes too long for his uncle, who started to complain loudly after five minutes of waiting.

"We have an appointment! Why are we made to wait when we have an appointment?" His uncle would mutter before shooting a dark look at Harry as if it was his fault for making them wait when they had, you guessed it, an appointment.

The odd thing was, Harry had not heard a time mentioned at all during any point of his uncle's rants about said appointment. He didn't know if they were running early, on time, or late. Every so often, he would steal a glance at the woman. In spite of his uncle's constant mutterings, she had appeared to forget their existence. It was only when a blonde-haired agent wearing a Preventor's uniform entered the waiting area, that the woman seemed to become aware of her surroundings.

The man stopped by the desk and spoke to the woman, who jerked her head over in their direction before muttering something back. Harry wasn't sure what was said but the man's eyes raked across the four of them before nodding at something she said. They continued to talk for a few seconds longer before the man made his way over to them.

"Mr. Potter?" The man, or actually, boy, spoke. Harry had been observing him through the hair that had fallen in his face noticed that he was actually younger than he had first thought. Harry would put him around eighteen or nineteen, maybe even twenty, but he didn't think he was any older than that.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, but at the frown that his Aunt sent his way made him hastily rethink about his greeting. Nervously clearing his throat, Harry tried again, "I mean, yes, I am Harry."

"If you and your aunt or uncle would like to follow me, we are ready for you now." The man/boy who had yet to introduce himself said softly while frowning at the family before him.

Something was off here if the looks and the emotions pouring off the family in front of him were anything to go by.

The woman looked like she had just sucked a lemon at the thought of accompanying her nephew, and the man looked like he was about to have an aneurism at the mere suggestion, while the boy in question seemed to be mortified at the very idea of either adult coming with him. While it might be considered normal behavior for an adolescent around Harry's age, Quatre knew that there was something more going on here than what meets the eye. There was an underlying tension that radiated off the three, and the boy's body language screamed that he was prepared to flee at a moment's notice.

The only one who acted normal- if you could call it that- was the rotund boy who was distracted by a game or movie on what was probably his parent's cell phone. He was oblivious to his surroundings, focusing solely on the device in front of him.

"I, uh, I don't need them to come. I can handle it by myself. I mean, it's just a blood draw, right?" Harry said nervously, wringing his hands together. Harry was not sure if he wanted to face it by himself, but knowing he really didn't have an option, he got to his feet and shuffled forward, careful to keep his head down, so the agent before him wouldn't see his black eye.

Quatre's frown deepened as the boy still insisted on talking to his feet instead of meeting his eyes and talking to him. "Whatever works for you," He allowed, before motioning Harry to follow him.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself. I'm Quatre Winner, by the way." Quatre said, trying to ease the nervous boy. The emotions radiating off the kid almost took his breath away. Something was definitely wrong here.

"I- what do you want to know?" Harry said as they entered an empty elevator.

"How old you are, what you want to be when you grow up. Anything you want me to know, really." Yeah, anything to calm him down, although just getting him away from his relatives did seem to ease the tension quite a bit. Even so, the boy was well on his way to a panic attack, or he was about to have one, either way, the child needed to calm down.

"Um, well, I am currently eleven, but I'll be twelve soon." He said softly, wondering why this boy was so curious about him. "Really? That must be exciting. When's your birthday?" Quatre pressed, as they exited the lift and onto another corridor.

"July 31st," he responded, picking at his long sleeves. He really didn't want Agent Winner to see the scars or marks on his arm.

Less than a month away.

"Are you going to do anything special? Hang out with friends?" Harry sighed; he had to admit the man beside him was relentless in his questioning.

"No, no, my birthday's aren't important. I mean, the Durley's don't go out of their way to celebrate birthdays. It's just another day, you know, um, nothing special."
"Is it?"

The question caused an almost a knee jerk reaction in Harry, as he suddenly looked up and caught Quatre's concerned gaze for a second before ducking his head in a sign of submission and hunching in on himself.

But in that second, Quatre saw more than he ever needed to see. He observed the blacking bruise that looked all too fresh to have been there for any substantial amount of time. He would reckon that Harry had gained that particular bruise sometime earlier that day, or very late last night.

And then the eyes; the emerald green eyes that held too many secrets, it reminded him of Trowa. But Quatre couldn't help but wonder what kind of secrets an eleven-year-old boy would carry to give him such a look.

Quatre fell silent, perhaps realizing that Harry wasn't really in the mood to talk. Or maybe it was because they had arrived at their destination.

It was a small nondescript room, sparsely furnished beyond a desk and a couple of chairs.

"Why don't you sit in that chair, Harry." Quatre did his best not to make it sound like a command, but it didn't matter. He observed the skittish child quickly sit and hugged his thin frame while keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

Yes, Sally was going to be needed for this one.

"Wait here, I will be right back with Sally in a moment, and she can begin the process of getting you registered." Without waiting for a confirmation, Quatre stepped out of the room and walked over to where he knew Sally would be. Quietly the former Sandrock pilot began to inform her of his suspicions before leading the way back to the room where the boy in question occupied.

Quatre almost gasped as the panic hit him. Even in the few minutes, he'd been out of Harry's presence; Quatre could tell that the boy had fallen a bit deeper in his state of panic.

Sally looked at him in concern, but all Quatre could do was stare at the boy before him.

"Hello there, Harry, I am Dr. Sally Po, but please call me Sally," the Doctor said, quietly observing the odd behavior of the child before her and filing it away for later.

The greeting pulled Harry out of his progressively deepening spiral of panic, and his eyes flashed up to the agent that had led him up here and his new companion.

"Um, hello," Harry said softly, knowing that if word reached his Aunt and uncle that he was rude to any of these people, that he would be in for one uncomfortable night.

"I hear from Quatre here that you are going to be having a birthday soon?" Sally said in her attempt to put the boy at ease. She had nothing of real importance to do at the moment, so she felt that it would be better to try to calm the child down before drawing his blood and perhaps even get a few answers from him in the process.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said somewhat shyly, albeit confused as to why everyone here seemed to have such an interest in his birthday. Maybe they really didn't care but didn't know what else to talk about- it wouldn't be the first time.

"He says you'll be turning twelve?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please call me Sally," she repeated while sitting down in front of Harry to get a better look at the skinny child.

"Yes, ma- I mean Sally."
"if I may ask, Harry, what happened to your eye?" This time, genuine concern crept in her voice.

"Nothing. I was just playing with Dudders, sorry, Dudley, my cousin, and we got into a fight, and I got it. We fight all the time. It's no big deal."
Sally glanced at the agent standing non threateningly as possible by the door, casually blocking the only escape route. He shook his head.

"Let me decide what is and is not a big deal, okay? And Harry? Quatre and I only want to help you but, we can't if you aren't going to be truthful with us." Sally tried again, but Harry shook his head violently.
"Can we please just get this over with." Both Sally and Quatre could hear the desperation in his voice. "My, my relatives are waiting for me, and I think they want to get home before dark, so I think they will probably want to leave soon."
Sally sighed internally before giving Harry a sad smile. "The Dursley's will leave when we allow it. But, I suppose you are right about one thing. Let me get the necessary supplies, and then once we've taken care of business, I would like to check you over to make sure your cousin didn't do any further damage, all right?"