a/n:

haha, um, I didn't plan on getting much into Harry growing up, but it was just what came out. Soooo, we'll see. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, it'll be spontaneous. Reviews make me happy, I honestly didn't expect to get any and I loooove you people that did review, you make me jump for joy.

Chapter One:

Living on the streets was rough; there was no doubt about it. But for a seven year old Harry Potter, it was better than the home life that he knew. Although he was never physically abused, well, unless you count being forcefully moved into his cupboard, he never had the love that a family was supposed to provide. In the group that took him in, he was accepted, he had friends, and he had more food than the Dursley's ever gave him.

The ragtag group of kids lived inside an abandoned factory. Jon, the leader, was fifteen years old, and had been on the streets since he was six. It turns out that he was abandoned just like Harry was. He had waited in the spot he was left for a week. Many of the kids in the group were runaways coming from abusive families.

To survive, the group picked pockets, shoplifted, and occasionally, did an honest job. Harry didn't like to steal, so it was usually him that searched around for a job offer that didn't mind too much where the workers came from. Among making money and earning food, the group also had to defend themselves and their "territory." As it were, Harry ended up being an extremely skilled fighter. He used knives, but his small size and quick reflexes made him one of the best.

It was early August and Harry was off in London looking for the construction site that promised him two fifty an hour if he helped out. He walked along the cobblestone street, looking around defensively. This wasn't his territory, and he knew there were a lot of groups in this part of London that wouldn't hesitate to attack him simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Harry had a good reason to be suspicious.

Two teens, one male, one female, started following him; they had predatory looks on their faces. Harry quickened his pace, but they matched it, following behind him by about ten meters. Looking around, Harry couldn't see anywhere that he would manage to lose his stalkers. He avoided stepping into any of the fancy clothing or bookstores, and pushed into a dingy looking bar.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he wasn't followed. He looked out the windows and saw the two teens looking around confused.

"Hello there, son, what can I do for you?" The bartender asked Harry.

Harry shook his head, making his long hair part along his forehead. The bartender's eyes widened.

"Harry, Harry Potter?" He asked, astonished.

Harry assumed the worst, that this was some sort of child services and they were going to take him back to the Dursley's—or worse, to an orphanage. He had heard terror tales of orphanages from his fellows. They were dirty, poor, and abusive places. Harry wanted nothing to do with them. But Harry couldn't go back outside, the two teens were still there looking for him. Harry backed up towards the back of the cavern and quickly went through the closest door.

Back inside, Tom the owner was making some quick calls.

But Harry didn't care about any of this. He stood against a brick wall, near a trash can and waited in silence when a couple walked out the door and up to the wall. The couple was chatting amiably and ignored Harry standing there. Harry watched curiously as the man took out a wooden stick and tapped the wall. Gaping at the gateway that was once a wall, Harry took his opportunity and followed the couple through. He was awestruck with what he saw.

He had never had the chance to read fairy tales, but he knew that this place was surreal. He went unnoticed through the crowds, gazing at the strange stores and stranger displays. The crowds were beginning to unnerve him, as he felt more than once that he was being watched. He decided to go where there was less people; into his comfort zone, in other words, a dark alley by the name of Knockturn Alley.

The alley shops didn't have many customers at this time of day, their shoppers preferred to do their business at night when the regular folk weren't watching. The few people that were there were either business owners or beggars. Harry blended right in. He hid between two shops and waited to see who was following him. A man with grey hair, a wooden leg, and a crazy eye limped by, not really paying attention. Harry was sure this was who had been following him. The man stopped after a few steps and turned back around and left, muttering to himself about needing to put alarms on his trashcans.

Harry continued walking, looking curiously at the shops and their wares. Harry was sure that he hit his head and was dreaming. All of this was too weird to be true. He was so busy gazing at an odd glimmering stone perched in a storefront that he didn't notice a man walk up behind him.

"What are you doing in this part of Diagon Alley, boy?" A man's gravelly voice came out from behind him.

Harry jumped and pulled out a knife falling into a fighter's stance on a reflex.

"Woah, there, calm down, I ain't here to hurt you," the man spoke.

Harry took the man in, choosing to remain silent as it seemed more ominous if he didn't speak. The man had short grey hair, but didn't look old. He had a broad face with extremely bright blue eyes. He gave off a larger than life air, but was probably only around 5'8".

"Who are you?" Harry finally asked.

The man raised an eyebrow, "I should be asking you that question, lad. This isn't a safe place to be, though I don't doubt you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. But you see, it's going to be dark soon and that's when most of the… folk come about."

Harry looked around, not quite sure of what that was supposed to mean.

"I don't know how to get out of here," he eventually replied.

"Ah… where are your parents, lad?"

Harry's face tightened, "they're dead."

"I see," the man responded, scratching his chin. "Well, who are you with?"

"Nobody," Harry answered. "I got friends."

"What's your name?" The man questioned.

"Harry."

"Harry…" the man said, more to himself than to Harry. "Would that be Harry Potter, then?"

Harry nodded, not liking where the conversation was turning.

The man chuckled a bit to himself. "Well then, lad, let's get you out of here, but let's chat a bit on the way."

Harry followed the man as he was led out of Knockturn Alley. The man explained to him all about his past, magic, and everything else he would possibly need to know. When they reached the bar Harry entered through—which he now knew was called the Leaky Cauldron—the man invited Harry to come back to his shop and learn a bit from him. The curious thing was, Harry never learned the man's name.

Harry quickly snuck through the now busy bar unnoticed and started running through London back to the abandoned factory that he called home.

"Harry, mate, where 'ave you been?" Asked Molly, or Molls as most people called her. She was the girl who "hates the bloody rain."

"I had a job, remember, Molls?" Harry decided not to tell anyone about magic for now; he didn't want them to think he was off his rocker.

"Ah, right, you like them honest folk," Molls laughed at him. "Well, Pete got our dinner today, fish, no chips left, and it's cold, but that's what you get fer workin' them hours."

Harry smiled at her and shook his head.

"Oi, Jon, Harry's back!" Molls shouted. "'E's been looking fer you."

"What for?"

"Oh, I d'know, you can ask 'im," and she skipped off to the others.

"Harry, mate, this fellow 'as been sniffing around 'ere," Jon began, "I want you to follow 'im next time he's 'ere."

Harry nodded, "What's he look like?"

"Brown hair with a bit of grey, shabby dress-like thing…" Jon ran off. "He doesn't look too dangerous, but well, the other guys aren't very sneaky and I don't want anyone to get 'urt."

"Alright," Harry agreed.

Harry was fond of Jon, he looked to him like the older brother he never had. Jon was only fifteen, but had been the leader of the group since he was ten. He was calculative and came off harsh to those who didn't know him, but he had a soft side for Harry because of their similar histories. Jon was a fierce fighter, he held knives, but preferred his bat. He was strong and the rest of the kids looked up to him. Harry was one of the youngest. Molls was thirteen, she was a cheerful girl and looking at her, you wouldn't think she came from a family with a drunk mother and a father who beat and molested her. Pete was eleven, he was a short kid and didn't like fighting; he was most useful in scavenging for useful little things and picking pockets. Eric, the stocky boy, was fourteen, he was an angry boy who ran away when he was nine, he never quite shared his reasons. There were a few others, Filly, who was also eight, Mark, who was nine, Angel, who was Molls' best friend was twelve, and Bill and Dill, twins who were ten. They were a tight knit group; there weren't many secrets between them and they all shared whatever they earned or stole. Today's adventure was Harry's first secret from the group.

Harry picked up some food from the "kitchen" area, or the only place in the factory that was kept tidy for the food. He grabbed a bit of food and sat on his ratty mattress to ponder today's happenings and his plans for tomorrow. He supposed he wouldn't have any work for tomorrow, since he didn't show up today. All he had to do was follow the man who was poking around the factory and teach him a lesson. And possibly return to that alley and visit the man in his shop. The others were beginning to drift off to their separate beds and falling asleep. Eventually, only he and Jon were awake. Jon was staring off into space, a habit he had when he thought no one was watching. Harry wondered what the boy was thinking about all the time, but didn't think much on it, and just went to sleep.

He woke up the following morning to pale sunlight and laughter coming from the twins. Most of the others were already awake, although if he had a watch, it would probably only be about six in the morning. Harry wiped at his clothes to get off the dust and walked outside, quietly searching the area for anyone poking around.

Harry stuck to the shadows and crevices creeping quietly like an assassin. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a haggard looking man wearing something that looked like a dress, just like Jon said. Then it struck him, this dress thing was what the people in that alley were wearing. He wondered what it meant. The man from the alley had told him all about being the "boy-who-lived," but what did that mean, besides the fact that he survived. He was a survivor; that was his life.

Harry pulled out two knives and crept up behind the man. He grabbed the man's arms and put a knife up to his throat.

"What are you doing here?" Harry questioned quickly.

"I—I, I'm looking for someone," the man gasped.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter," the man answered.

Harry stiffened, not liking where this subject was going.

"And what do you want with him?" Harry growled.

"He's alive then?" The man sounded relieved—well, as relieved as a person who had a knife at their throat could be.

Harry let go of the man and backed up against the wall, confused at the rush of emotions he was feeling. He was confused as to why the man sounded so happy to hear that he was alive. He was scared, and he hadn't been scared in a long time.

The man turned around and looked at his attacker. "Harry?" The man asked, sounding weak.

"No!" Harry ran as fast as he could.

"He's alive…" the man whispered to himself. "Tom wasn't lying… James, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry…"

Remus Lupin mourned for his lost friend and then for the fate of his lost friend's only child. He didn't know what to do, so he apparated back to his cabin to figure out what to do another day.