Superhero sapped of all powers.
I'll kneel beside you, watch you for hours.

THREE DAYS LATER, August 6th

I stepped off the airplane and sighed. The flight from Minneapolis seemed almost unbearably long and the small child kicking the back of my seat through half the plane ride hadn't helped one bit. I adjusted my backpack and walked purposefully through the airport. There was no need to stop for luggage; I had been in such a hurry that my black backpack had been the only bag I grabbed. I had hurriedly stuffed it full of clothes, toiletries and little things to remind me of home.

There hadn't been much left at home to take care of before I left. Padfoot, my father's German Shepard had been left with the neighbors and the house was all locked up and secure.

I flagged down a taxi and gave him the address to the storage garage. It had been a hard decision on the plane but in the end I decided to not go to the hotel right away. Thoughts of what lay in the storage garage were too tempting to forego.

After a fifteen minute ride through light traffic the taxi arrived in front of a facility with a sign that said "Store n'Go". The place wasn't too run down but it was nothing special, only a collection of little brown garages, each with a white, sliding door in front. I stepped out of the taxi, adjusted my bag once more and paid the driver. Threat of embarrassment should I be seen was the only thing that kept me from running down the rows of garages to number thirty-one, my father's garage. Instead I settled on half-walking, half-skipping.

The key jingled lightly on the padlock as I fought to control my trembling hands. For a moment I wondered what would happen if I opened it and there was nothing inside but I quickly pushed those thoughts away and bravely pulled up the door.

When I thought there might be nothing inside, I had no idea how close I had come to the truth. Ninety-five percent of the garage was nothing but concrete floor and air. The other five percent was taken up by a good-sized trunk in the middle of the floor that had a bird cage resting on top of it.

Well that's strange, I thought to myself as I walked over to investigate. The trunk was a rusty red color with gold latches and a gold lock. After I moved the old bird cage off the top of it I found an emblem painted on the cover. It appeared to be some sort of shield split into four parts. There was a badger, a raven, a snake and a lion with a small 'H' stamped in the middle.

The latches were closed tight and the trunk was firmly locked. I didn't remember Mr. Smith giving me another key and I had nothing with me to pick the lock so after a few swift kicks which did nothing, I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to be getting any mind-blowing revelations about my father's past right at the moment.

I attempted to lift the trunk but found that it was much too heavy. It had no wheels and I had nothing to transport it with so my only option was to leave it there until I could come back with a cart or dolly to put it on.

Or something to smash open that lock, I thought with a grin.

Right as I was about to leave I took one last look at the trunk and stopped dead in my tracks. Near the bottom on the right side there was faint black writing. I knelt down on the floor to get a better look at what it said.

"Property of Harry J. Potter," I whispered to the empty garage. In a flash I grabbed my backpack and pulled out a notebook and pen. After I wrote down what I had found I smiled. I had another clue to the past of James Rubeus Riddle.

It didn't take me long to reach my hotel and as soon as I was inside I plopped on the bed and pulled out my laptop. I never found myself so grateful for hotels with Ethernet connections as I was at that moment. Sure I was no computer guru, but I had done enough searches on my father to be an expert at those. Regretfully all of my searches for James Riddle, James Rubeus Riddle, or even Rubeus Riddle came up empty.

Now I had four names to begin my search. The first would be Ronald and Hermione Weasely, followed by Petunia Dursley and then Harry J. Potter. There had to be something about one of them somewhere on the World Wide Web.

Many hours later, after exhausting any leads on Ronald and Hermione Weasely, around midnight I had my first breakthrough. By accident I stumbled upon an abandoned website for a garden club in Surrey, England. The website looked like it hadn't been updated in years but there was a garden party advertised by one Mrs. Petunia Dursley, to take place at #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging.