Harry, unaware of all the troubles below him in the kitchen, gazed into the inky black night. A rich, velvety color, it had tints of indigo and violet. But Harry, waiting for a response for days, was not thinking about the beauty of the night sky; his eyes were focusing on a flapping figure coming slowly into view.

As Shadow drank thirstily from Hedwig's bowl, Harry tore the parchment open. He read the letter hungrily. One phrase caught his eye. "Meet me at Diagon Alley. August 21st, all right?" The thought of seeing his beloved Cho again... Harry grabbed a quill and scribbled on the bottom of her letter,

"Yes, I'll come. Not sure how, but I'll be there. Harry."

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The next day, Harry woke up to what sounded like a fight between a pig, chicken, and an angry dog. Squinting his eyes against the shaft of bright light peering between the curtains, he sat up. Once awakened he thought it best to get up. He wasn't one for falling asleep again in the morning. After dressing in Dudley's smallest hand-me-downs, he yawned as he walked down the stairs, wondering what the big fuss in the kitchen was.

As soon as the Dursleys saw Harry standing in the doorway, they all let out even more of an outburst. Advancing on him menacingly, Uncle Vernon roared, "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, BOY!" Harry thought it best not to remind him of his "armed, dangerous" godfather. No telling what his uncle could do to him in the meantime. And as for trying some magic on his uncle himself, well, he'd wasn't going to risk the disastrous consequences of being expelled from Hogwarts and the entire magical community.

"What...what's happening? What's my fault?" he asked in what he considered to be a voice that wouldn't anger Uncle Vernon any more than he already was.

Aunt Petunia let out a wail from the table where she was sitting, her face buried in her hands. Dudley stood apart from them, with an agitated expression Harry had only seen on him when he was told "no" to a toy he wanted. Fleeing as fast as one his size could, Dudley hurried past Harry, kicking him in the shins and hissing, "They're separating and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Shocked, Harry glanced up at Uncle Vernon's angry face. "If we hadn't taken you in, boy..." he growled.

Not knowing what to do, Harry did what he had always done before magic when Dudley was tormenting him. He ran.

**************************************************************************** **************************

Harry stood on the unfamiliar doorstep, with his trunk in one hand, Hedwig's cage under the other arm. He glanced backwards. "Go on, ring the bell," Mr. Wryer called from his car. Then he turned and drove away.

Harry quickly checked to make sure he was out of sight. Then, dragging his luggage down the stairs, he sighed with relief. Escaping! he whispered to himself. Free, free from the Dursleys! I'll leave for London, and meet Cho at Diagon Alley, just as planned.

It was all too soon to rejoice, however, because the door behind him opened with a creak. "Harry? Are you Harry?" Harry spun around.

It was a young girl. Only ten years old at most, Harry guessed. She had was wearing a neon yellow dressed that clashed with her curly brown hair. "Yes, I'm Harry..." he admitted slowly.

She grinned. "Hi! I'm Elspeth Yardley. You can call me Elsie. Come in; I'll tell Mama." She ran up to him, and lugged his trunk up for him. "You have an owl? Cool, what's its name?"

Annoyed his chance of getaway had been lost, Harry sighed. "Her name's Hedwig." But the girl had already dashed into the house and shrieking, "Mama! Harry's here!"

Feeling awkward, Harry put Hedwig's cage on the mat inside and looked around. It was a nice house, hardly as clean as the Dursleys' had been, but friendly. Newspapers strewn on tables, children's art pinned up on walls, woven rugs on the wood floors.

In a few moments, Mrs. Yardley arrived, smiling warming at Harry. "Welcome, Harry! I hope you'll be happy here." As soon as she saw Hedwig, her smile's warmth dropped a few notched. "Er... you have an ... owl, Harry?"

Used to Hedwig's cold welcome at the Dursleys', Harry said, "Yes. Her name's Hedwig. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh we don't mind!" interrupted Elsie. "It'll be so cool to have a real live OWL in our house!" She grinned at Harry eagerly.

Mrs. Yardley made a face. Motioning toward Elspeth, she explained resignedly, "Elsie loves birds. But I'm not looking forward to her... err, meals."

"Oh, no need to worry! Hedwig catches her own food!" Harry supplied.

"Exactly. I'm not too keen about the thought of dead mice and owl pellets lying about the house."

"Ohh... Uh, I can clean up for you. And Hedwig's a neat bird." Being spoken of in a what Hedwig thought a derogatory manner caused her to ruffle her feathers arrogantly and snub Harry for the rest of the day. However, when Elsie reached in to stroke her back, she did not resist her.

"I certainly hope so," Mrs. Yardley said skeptically. "Elsie shall help you to your room."

The girl, grabbing Harry's trunk as though it were merely a rucksack, hurried down the hall. Harry, picking up Hedwig's cage, hastened to catch up. She opened the of a room at the end of the hall and set Harry trunk down, sighing with relief from the burden of it, no matter easily it had appeared that she was carrying it. "Here it is!" she exclaimed happily. The room was not a big one, but the enormous windows made it appear larger than it was.

Elsie jumped onto the bed, and sat on it, bouncing up and down. "So... Harry. How'd you get into a foster home?"

Sitting down on the west-facing window seat, Harry replayed the unbelievable events in his mind once more before he began to speak. Elsie, however, took his silence for reluctance to speak.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I being rude? I apologize; Mama's told me again and again not to --"

"Oh, it's all right. Just a bit unbelievable that's all. But I'm glad to be rid of the Dursleys."

Elsie's eyes widened. "You're GLAD to be rid of your family?"

"They're not really my family. OK, let me start at the beginning. When I was a baby, my parents died." He paused, wondering whether to say "in a car crash" like the Dursleys had always said or the truth: that they'd been murdered. He decided not to explain any further about it. "So I was left on the Dursleys' doorstep. Aunt Petunia - that's Mrs. Dursley to you - was my mother's sister. So I stayed with the Dursleys for 13 years. Uncle Vernon didn't give me a room 'til I was eleven. Instead, I stayed in the cupboard under the stairs. Dudley, my cousin, liked to chase me with his gang. He's the only person I've ever met who is wider than he is tall."

Elsie was staring at Harry in awe. "And you're not just making all this up, are you?"

"No, of course not. I had to wear Dudley's old clothes --"

"But YOU'RE not as wide as you are tall."

"Precisely."

"And so did you report all this to the child abuse center? And they sent you here?"

"No, of course not. I don't have any other family besides them, you know. And the Dursleys would get furious if I told anyone about what they did."

"So how...?"

"They got a divorce. Finally realized how awful the other was. Actually they blamed it all on me; that having me in the family causing tension and whatnot..."

"How awful!"

"They had an enormous fight over who'd get Dudley, but neither one wanted me --"

"That's so sad!"

"So here I am..."

"...in a foster home," she finished.

"All right, what about you? What's your life story?"

"Me? Oh, all right. Um, let's see, I was adopted by Mama when I was five. I used to be foster homes, too. 'Cause my birth mum didn't want me." She turned sad brown eyes to Harry. "Isn't it sad? But, anyway, this was my second foster home. Mama and I didn't want to be separated so she adopted me!" Elsie had a nice smile; friendly despite her teeth were a bit big.

"Don't you know ANYTHING about your real parents?"

"Not 'real parents.' BIRTH parents. Mama is my REAL mama even if I wasn't born to her. And yes, I do know ONE thing."

"What is it?" Harry was curious.

"I know her name. My birth mother's name. Except it's not worth much. There are twenty-nine people in London with the same name."

"What's the name?" Harry thought for a second she'd say "Potter" and it'd turn that she was his long-lost sister. But not so.

"Her name was Granger." And it suddenly clicked to Harry why Elsie had looked so familiar.