A/N: Here we have an AU story about harry...and well, I'll just let you read it on your own...

Disclaimer...I don't own it...DUH

Additional Disclaimer...The first paragraph is a direct quote from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (American edition.)

October 31, 1989

Dumbledore turned and walked down the street. Then on the corner he stopped and took out the silver put-outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that privet drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck Harry," he murmured He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

In the darkness of the night, a lone figure stalked up a deserted street. The street was old, very old. On would even go so far as to say that no one had driven on this street in a hundred years. The person who made that assumption would also be very correct, in fact no one had ever driven on it at all. However, this did not mean that the street was unoccupied, oh no, quite the contrary. The street was long, winding and narrow. Tall stately oak trees lined both sides as far as the eye could see. The moon was bright tonight, it was fitting, being Halloween and all. The light from the nearly full moon illuminated the almost ethereal glow emanating from the differently colored cobblestones. If the street was rather grandiose, it was nothing compared to the houses that it lead to. If one could see up the stately long, gated drives whomever was so privileged would see some of the largest and most ornate estates in the whole isle. Yet the man didn't seem to notice.

The cloaked figure skulked up the street to a particular gate. He clutched his right forearm as he ran, the rapid gait seeming to cause him pain. He was nervous, he had never set foot to this manor before, and had been warned against it. However, tonight was different he had to see someone. The gait, surprisingly seemed to agree with him that evening, and opened with an audible click. He followed the gait's noiseless trajectory as swung open to reveal a winding driveway up to one of the grandest and most intimidating manors that he had yet seen.

The man's breath caught in his already tired chest. This drive was easily a mile long, and he had come so far already. A stamp in the shadows made him jump with surprise.

"Lumos" he muttered as quietly as he could. Scanning the area with a beam of light that seemed to tremble in his unsteady hand, his wand light caught the image of a carriage. The two horses harnessed to the ornate vehicle seemed to have appeared as though out of nowhere. Their black harnesses glittering in the wand light as they stood ready to escort the man to the manor.

A small house elf sat perched on the carriage, he seemed to sense the guest's confusion. "The gate calls the carriage sir, would you be seeking company with the master of the manor this evening?" He squeaked, bowing deeply. The cloaked, now slightly stunned man simply nodded at the elf and clamored into the carriage. Hearing a click of the house elf's tongue and a snap of the whip, the carriage jolted into motion. The quick, strong trot of the horses covered a lot of ground very quickly, he would be at the manor in under five minutes. This beats walking at least. He thought to himself as the lights in the windows of the manor began to grow steadily brighter.

After getting out of the carriage, he watched as it diapered around the bend. He walked up the path to the large, ostentatious front door. Knocking on the door, he heard the shuffling of feet and felt a sense of foreboding, never had he the gall to present himself to a member of the inner circle. The door slowly creaked open and the yard was bathed in muted yellow light. The demure gaze turned to bewilderment as the man framed in the now open doorway peered at him incredulously.

"What brings you to my manor so late this evening?" The tall man's voice cut the air with all the warmth of a January wind. The young cloaked man began to wonder if he had indeed made a mistake. Gathering a strong breath, he held out his arm under the residual glow that spilled onto the veranda. The tall, older man's eyebrows shot into his long golden hair. He tugged at the sleeve of the younger man's robes, ignoring the hiss of pain that he received. He pulled at his own robes now, and inspected the brand that he too had been worried over the past few hours. The Mark, it had been a constant reminder of his fidelity to his lord, and today, this day of all days, it had faded. Lucius stared at the now dull gray lines that used to be the darkest of black, the hazy, feathery lines looking like an old scar fading from existence, more than a powerful link to their leader.

"Your's has faded as well then?" The young man asked, nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Well that's obvious." The man before him sneered. "Don't be dull Crouch, that's your father's job." Lucius spat the title with disdain.

"I am nothing like my father, he is narrow minded and so dim witted is he that he has yet to suspect a thing." Young Crouch stated boldly, the image of his father searing in his mind, giving him ire to replace his lack of courage.

"Thank merlin for small miracles then, if only for your sake." Lucius replied scathingly.

The young man lost some of his nerve standing in front of Lucius just then, for the first time he understood just why Voldemort had on his side. The thought of his master's name brought him forcibly to the present as he glanced down at the now barley discernible tattoo on his forearm.

"Lucius, what does this mean?" the young Crouch asked. The older man surveyed him magisterially "It means you keep your nose clean and wait for more tangible proof to the filthy rumors that have been flying around." He snapped, his cold eyes boring into the younger pair. Lucius was struck by the fact that although the man, if he could even be called naught but a boy's eyes were so young, they appeared to be dead, lifeless, as though no soul whatsoever resided in his empty shell. Crouch nodded and pulled his gaze away from the senior member. The look they shared ended any further conversation and the parted with the creak and click of the door.

Crouch walked the end of the footpath and saw that no carriage waited to bring him down the driveway. He didn't dwell on that fact, he figured he wasn't important enough to warrant the attendants of a Malfoy anyways.

Walking to the end of the road, he thought to himself, a slow smile crept over his dead, young face, with a crack that seemed almost muted in the heavy air, the hooded figure was gone from the odd street.

Nearly a hundred miles to the south, a man stood laughing, the destruction around the said man was immense, and yet he merely stood, his inordinately handsome face thrown back, neat black hair picking up in the slight breeze. Suddenly the air was thick with loud cracks, he didn't even flinch. Ropes were shot out of thin air and secured themselves tightly around the man, still he laughed on, and on and on. He didn't resist in the slightest as they dragged him away. His laughter could still be heard all the way down the razed street. Not two meters below, a small brown rat was bleeding freely from a hole in his paw where a digit should have remained. His watery black eyes were large and wide with fear. He trembled as he heard the cracks above his head. He shot off down the festering pipe, not looking back once.

November 13th.

It was a Friday afternoon, the sun shone brightly and the air was crisp and cool, the flowers on privet drive had all but withered and faded away. Inside the house of number four, one could find a playpen in the family room stuffed to the brim with children's toys, and many large pictures of the same rather large boy hung proudly displayed on every available surface. The afternoon was not as calm as it seemed however, for inside the not-so-remarkable in anyway house, an earsplitting wailing could be heard as far as the moon, if you listened really carefully. "Vernon, we have to go to the market! We are running out of baby food...again!" Came a scratchy voice.

"Already! I swear we just got some last week!" The booming deep voice returned. Petunia looked at her husband, "Yes, well that foundling eats more than he's worth." She snapped, jerking her head in the direction of a small door in the hall.

"I knew we should have thrown that brat in an orphanage."

Aunt Petunia simply rolled her eyes at the man before her. "Honestly Vernon, I don't like the beastly child either, but he is my blood, I can't in good faith let him to strangers..." She faded, it had been two weeks since her sister's death, and she had been feeling rather upset about the whole affair. Had she been fair to her? No, in all reality she hadn't been fair at all. She had spent the time remembering here childhood, thinking about what it would have been like if Lily hadn't of gotten that damn letter. She couldn't even contemplate what life might have been like in that instance. She crossed the hallway and wrenched open the small door that led to the broom cupboard that had been serving, the past few days as a make-shift nursery. They hadn't wanted a boy of his...kind...sharing a nursery with their prefect little boy, who knew what such fraternization could lead to.

Petunia grabbed a string and tugged, turning on the small light bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Harsh yellow light flooded the cupboard, and the sudden motions of the woman in the dank closet startled the sleeping child. The boy gasped in surprise, and flinched, as he did the light bulb that had startled him shattered into a million little pieces all over Petunia who shrieked as she threw her hand up into the air, as though to protect herself from the projectile glass shrapnel.

"Petunia! Are you alright!" Vernon bellowed, galloping into the hallway to see what the commotion was about.

Petunia's ashen face and wide eyes were fixed on the shattered bulb. She slowly looked at the baby staring at the bulb as well, with a placid look on his face. Petunia thought quickly to herself, he couldn't have done it? Could he have? Petunia was glancing shrewdly at the little baby, a look akin to fear growing in her eyes.

"Vernon, he can just stay here for a bit while we nip over to the grocer, it'll only be a second, he'll be fine in the cupboard."

Vernon seemed more than happy with the idea of not having to bring the second child, anything to keep the child with...unnatural...breeding away from their perfect little Dudley.

The three Dursleys drove into town, completely unconcerned about the baby they had left to his own defenses in the dank broom cupboard full of spiders.

"Look!" a manically excited voice hissed, barley able to conceal his glee as he pointed to the silver car pulling into the shopping mart's parking lot. "It's them! They have the baby too!" The person speaking was nearly besides himself with glee.

Good work Bella, I must admit that I wasn't sure you would get your story straight..." The boyish man said rubbing his hands together.

The woman he had addressed scoffed. "God Crouch, then you are thicker than I thought...You can't be withing a fifty foot radius of my dear cousin Sirius and not learn a thing or two from him, like, for instance where the mud-blood bitch lived before she married the blood-traitor Potter..." Her husband cackled next to her, she silenced him with a scathing glare. "Let's get this done." She hissed, standing slightly, and scuttling across the parking lot, the three conspirators ducked behind a van and watched, grinning like idiots, as the small family made its way into the store. "Here we are..." The cold woman said, her voice quivering in anticipation.

"One...two...three..." There was an earsplitting scream as the store's windows exploded outwards, and flames shot from the cracked ceiling. The boyish man stowed his wand back in his pocket and smiled happily. The day was looking up. The would finish what their master started.

"Shouldn't we see if they lived?" The weedy man said looking longingly at the destruction he was proud to say he helped create. In his mind, anything that lessened the muggle filth in this world was a noble cause indeed.

"Please Rodolphus, you aren't serious, no one survived that...besides, if he did, well, then we'll keep at it until our master has been avenged!" She said in a low, solid voice. "Now for their house..." She spat

"The Boy-Who-Lived, lives no longer!" She laughed, throwing her head back as they disapperated with three distinct cracks.

Harry lay in waiting in his small dirty crib. The air was filling with smoke, and he didn't know what to do...he began to cough, "mama? He called out, with tears streaming down his face. "Da?" He cried, his voice reaching desperation as the orange glow could be seen through the vents on the door. He was choking, he needed to get out...he needed to get out. Quite suddenly, he was no longer in his dank cupboard, but lying on crunchy frost-covered grass. His eyes flickered, as he fought for breath in his still smoke filled lungs. The clean air was beginning to ease the tightness in his chest, and his eyes drifted shut. "Pafut?" He breathed hopefully, as his shuddering breath came more slowly and he drifted into unconsciousness.

November 14th

"Max, Come here!" a woman said sharply, tugging at the leash attached to a very adamant golden retriever. "Max! I said Come Here!" she hissed, the dog continued to pull her off the path in the park on Magnolia Road. With an almighty leap, the dog freed himself of the restraint and bounded across the dying grass to a slightly wooded area. "Max!" The woman shouted, her husband running after her and their disobedient dog.

The woman reached the dog first, and snatched up the leash. "Max! What has gotten into you this morning!" She huffed, as she jerked the leash to show her displeasure. "And just what may I as are you so interested in..." She broke off with a sharp intake of breath.

"David! David come here right now!" She yelled shrilly.

The van from child services pulled up to the park where a patrol car and an ambulance were parked.

A woman with blond hair and bright eyes walked to the policeman. Her normally happy face was etched with worry. "Is the child with the paramedics?" She asked. The policeman nodded. "A couple walking their dog found him half frozen in the bushes. Looks like a case of abandonment." He continued. The woman snorted. "Yes, and near infanticide..." She said cynically. In any case, I'll put in the call to St. Cathrine's, they usually deal with abandoned children. I think they are the only ones that aren't full at the moment anyways." She said, pulling out her phone and flipping through the contact information.

Rachel Simmons the newest employee of the St. Cathrine's Children's Home in Wallingford Surrey had the most interesting day of her careerer. It was her first time collecting a new ward. She had driven in the Home's car to the hospital where the infant she was collecting was being held. The child was apparently an abandonment case, like all of the children of St. Cathrine's. He had been left in a park to die in the freezing temperatures. She walked into the hospital and showed the receptionist her identification card. The receptionist nodded and handed her a card with a room number on it. Boarding the elevator she gripped tightly onto the rail, she had never been a fan of closed spaces. No, she thought to herself It isn't the closed spaces I don't like, it's the fact that I am in a box suspended by a disconcertingly thin piece of metal. God knows it probably hasn't been inspected in years... just as the lift was in her mind crashing to the basement with her trapped inside, the bell dinged dully; and the smooth metal doors glided open, reveling the neatly tiled floor and cheery blue walls of the fifth floor lounge. It couldn't be more evident that she was in the pediatric ward, what with the rainbows and monkeys swinging from trees cheerfully depicted on the walls. She glanced at the slip of paper in her hands. 218 it read. She looked on the small plastic plaques that were affixed to each hallway door.

Rooms 180-200, she passed that hall and kept walking, hoping that the numbers went up instead of down. Rooms 200-220, the next gray plaque read. Slipping the paper back into her pocket, she pulled the bright red doors open and walked down the brightly lit hallway.

She saw a blond haired woman standing outside in the hallway, flipping through a ream of paperwork.

Smiling, Rachel called out to her, "Hello Judy, it's wonderful to see you." She said with a bright smile.

The woman looked up, and her eyes lit with recognition. "Rachel! I didn't know that you were at St. Cathrine's now." She said, hugging the woman. Rachel nodded. "Yes, I've been there about six months now, I really like it there, Mr. Carlton is a wonderful man." She said happily. Judy smiled, "Yes, Richard is a good man, he's been running that place forever!" She said fondly thinking about the elderly coordinator.

Rachel was quite curious to see the young child that she would be leaving the hospital with that day. She peered in through the window at the little boy that was barely visible beneath the thick blankets. His nose and mouth were covered with an oxygen mask.

Judy followed her gaze to the child. "That's the boy, he's had a rough time of it." She said sadly. "It's odd, he's old for a simple infant dumping, doctors say he's probably near eighteen months..." Rachel frowned. "Any idea who he is?" she asked, as Judy handed her the boy's chart. Judy shook her head.

Rachel scanned the boy's file and she looked up confused. "Smoke inhalation?" She asked, her eyebrows creased. "Yup, that's what the tests indicated. They don't think it did too much damage, however he may have developmental issues down the road. He also had some mild hypothermia, but he's fine now, and ready to go home. It's odd, you know, other than the stuff from his recent problems, the doctors said he's a perfectly healthy baby with no indications whatsoever of abuse or neglect." Rachel walked to the bedside of the little boy, and looked at his sleeping face. "We have no idea where he got that cut from...it should heal up just fine though..." Judy said, pointing to the child's forehead where a curiously shaped cut in the form of a lightning bolt was positioned right above his left eye.

It was an hour car ride to St. Cathrine's that evening, in the bumper to bumper traffic. The boy had been quiet, merely staring out the window at the passing countryside. As Rachel laid him in the crib in the nursery room, with the six other babies. There was space for eight cribs, four on each side of the long brightly panted room. Tucking him in she looked at his face. He needed a name. "You look like a Robbie to me, you can't be Magnolia Park Boy forever..." She smiled as she wrote the name Robbie on a piece of printer paper and taped it to the end of the crib.

"Good night Robbie, sweet dreams..." Rachel called softy before flicking the lights out and heading home for the evening.

Little did she know that his dreams would be far from sweet. A high cold laugh would fill his mind, and the vision of blinding green would haunt him from behind his eyelids.

September 7th 1992

It had been almost three years since the baby boy had been found near frozen to death in the park that evening. It was still considered by more than a few as to how the baby had survived the cold rain at all, he hadn't been ill at all. Michele looked out into the yard of St. Cathrine's Children's Home. Two girls sat in the September sunlight. Rachel smiled to see the girls plaiting each other's hair. Two boys were tossing a ball back and fourth, while a young strawberry blond girl was trying very hard to leap up and catch the ball mid-flight. Rachel's smile slipped just a touch when she saw still another boy in the yard, all by himself he was sitting under a tree watching the other children play. That was all the other boy would do. He was, they guessed, almost five and yet he had never spoken a word. Shaking her head slightly as though to physically remove the thoughts from her mind, she threw open the glass slider and walked out to the back porch.

"Come on in, it's lunchtime." She called merrily. All the children in the yard ceased what they were doing immediately and ran to the house, all but one little boy with black hair and shockingly green eyes.

"Come on in Robbie." She called hopefully, knowing full well that the child would not acknowledge her if she balanced a fishbowl on her head and danced the hula. No, Robbie was trapped in his own little world where only he could go. She sighed slightly and walked across the yard. Taking him gently by the wrist she led him inside. He didn't resist, he never did, sometimes she almost wished he would, to prove something, just one indication that he was in fact a living breathing, and more importantly, feeling individual.

Robbie sat down at the table and ate his lunch without looking up from his plate once. Once he had finished, he picked up his plate, put it in the large plastic bin that the dirty dishes went in after mealtimes, and left the room. If anyone in the room found that uncommon, they didn't mention it. They all knew Robbie, and didn't really have an opinion one way or another. He had been at St. Cathrine's for a while now. Rachel recalled that there had been six babies that year at the home, all were adopted very fast, all but Robbie. There was just something...odd...about the child, and it seemed that the older he got, the more pronounced the peculiarity would become. It was past time for him to start school, still, Rachel thought that she was well within reason to keep him behind a year, with all things considered. He was the longest young resident of St. Cathrine's, it made her very sad to admit it, but she doubted very much that he would ever find a home. She watched him as he walked up the stairs presumably to his bedroom. He always did that after meal times, when all the other kids would play and run like demons possessed, he never played. He had been to see several doctors, and yet none of then could place just what it was about the little boy. They had even gone so far as to diagnose him with Autism, however, to Rachel, that diagnosis just didn't seem to fit. She had worked with many autistic children in the past, and he didn't seem to be like a single one of them. It was almost like the boy simply didn't have anything to say. You could imagine looking at him and having a conversation, but it just hadn't happened yet. He showed a total lack of interest in socialization to the point of not even acknowledging that someone was even in his presence.

The next morning, Rachel had Robbie all dressed and ready, today was the day he would go to school. She was used to the short walk, she did it three times a week, when assigned, to escort the young wards to the school. Especially now, it was more important than ever to keep the young ones close. With the escape of that horrid convict Black, everyone was on edge. It had been nearly three months, and still, no one had seen hide nor hair of the filthy criminal. Walking to the registrar's office, she signed the paperwork she had faxed to the office the previous day. She had made sure to get there early, so she would have time to meet with Mrs. Harvey, the teacher for the special learners, which was where Robbie would go.

"Alright Robbie, this is Mrs. Harvey, she's a very nice lady and will look after you today until I come again to pick you up in a few hours, don't worry, I'll be back quite soon." Rachel said, peeling the little boy's jacket off him and hanging it on a hook. She turned to leave and saw that Robbie wasn't looking anywhere near her, he was simply staring straight ahead, not giving any indication that he had heard her in the slightest. Mrs Harvey smiled at her encouragingly, as Robbie gazed out the sunlight window. Rachel shrugged her shoulders and nodded to the teacher before heading out of the classroom

Robbie didn't like his name. He knew that wasn't what he was really called. It was just some name that the orphanage had come up with to call him since his parents weren't anywhere to be found to give him a proper name. He thought about his parents all the time, he knew some things, he knew his real name was Harry. His mother's name was Lily. His father's name was James. He knew that they had loved him very much, he knew that he was different that the other foundlings at the orphanage, his parent's hadn't dumped him off, they had been murdered. He knew that because of his dreams. They didn't leave much to his imagination. They were real too, he knew they were real. He could remember the sound of the high, cruel laughter, and the words that didn't make sense to him. Still, although they didn't make sense, he repeated them over and over again in his mind, they were the last words of his real life he could remember. He closed his eyes, he knew that the teacher lady was talking to him. However, he wasn't paying attention to her at all. Instead, a high cold voice filled his mind. Avada Kedarva! It screamed in his mind, a violent green flash flashed behind his eyes. Jumping slightly he he returned his attention to the green wall behind the talking lady's head.

Robbie didn't like the sound of the harsh bells, they made him jump, and all the children that were everywhere talking and laughing made him uneasy.

"Come along Robbie, it's time for recess, you get to go outside..." The talking lady Rachel had identified as Mrs. Harvey said kindly, taking him by the wrist and leading him outside.

Mrs. Harvey nodded happily as she watched the child walk over to the swing set and begin to rock himself contentedly back and forth. Hearing a shrill cry, a crack, and the subsequent wail she threw up her hands and ran across the playground to a small girl in a pink jumper with blond piggy tails. Her rand was held at an awkward angle, as she lay crumpled on the ground under the monkey bars.

Robbie saw a swinging gate and hopped off the swing. Walking though the gate he looked across the field overgrown with soft purple lavender. Something about the smell was familiar to him. A dark shadow caught his eye and he saw a ginger cat saunter through the field. He followed, not looking behind at the school yard once. If he had, he may have noticed a large black dog following at a far distance along the edge of the field.

Robbie was running now, trying to find sight of the ginger cat. He wasn't paying attention to where his feet were going however, and his toe caught a log and he tumbled down to the ground.

The large black dog's sharp hearing picked up the soft sounds of distress coming from the boy clear as day and he broke into a swift gallop to arrive at the child's side. The dog peered down the hillside and saw the form of the raven haired child lying motionlessly at the bottom.

Oh my god! Harry! Sirius thought as he thew all caution to the wind and quickly transformed back into his real form.

Running down the hill, he scooped up the boy in his arms, and held him for the first time in years. "Come on buddy, come on, wake up, look at me Harry..."

The boy's eyes fluttered open, and he looked into the palest blue-gray eyes widened with concern.

"Padfoot, I knew you'd come find me, you promised...I've been waiting..." Harry mumbled before he lost consciousness once more.

Sirius turned back into Padfoot and he ran as fast as he could to the school yard. Good lord, I feel like some demented version of Lassie...He noticed a kind looking lady running franticly through the yard, calling then name 'Robbie'. Okay, how exactly do dogs get the attention of people these days? Sirius saw the bad in her hands, and grabbed it hard in his teeth. Pulling it away from her, he ran out the gate, and looked back at her to see if she was getting the point.

Mrs. Harvey was looking at the giant bounding dog running with her purse in her hands. She was distracted and noticed that he was looking for her to give chase.

No, Timmy did not fall down the well, but Harry did hit his head! He thought exasperatedly. Finally after what seemed like hours, the woman finally caught the hint and followed him. Once she saw the still child in the gully below, she rushed down and gathered him in her arms. Jogging back to the school yard, she spotted one of the other teachers.

"Dial 999, tell them we have an unconscious child." She said in an undertone, as she rushed the boy inside. She didn't notice the large black dog that followed her, worriedly into the building.

She heard the sirens in minuets and watched as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

"Mrs. Harvey, Rachel Simmons, the coordinator for the St. Cathrine's Children's Home is on her way to the hospital, I've told her what happened."

Mrs. Harvey nodded absently, still reeling from what had happened.

The principal looked quizzically at the dog pacing the room. "What's that?" She asked, distractedly. Mrs. Harvey looked up at the dog and frowned for a moment. "That's the dog that led me to Robbie..." She said slowly, reaching a hand out to pat the enormous creature.

"Dog," the principal scoffed, "Looks part pony if you ask me..."

Sirius was listing to the conversation adamantly, trying to pick up on any clues as to where Harry was. The more he heard, the less he liked.

Children's home...Robbie? I never forget a sent, not to mention, the scar is there...plain as day, Harry doesn't even know his own name... Sirius slipped out of the office and made his way down the hall. He stared in sheer annoyance at the doorknob that was silently mocking him This would be so much easier if I had hands! He thought moodily as he grappled with the knob. Luckily some little child with a loo pass decided to throw the old dog a bone, and opened the door for him. Well, there we have it, Sirius Black, top of his class at hogwarts, remarkable auror, famed mass murderer who drives fear into the hearts of all...bested by a doorknob. He thought scornfully as he set off up the road, following the sent of Harry, with any luck he would find where he was living now.

Less than two minutes later, he arrived at the front gate to the St. Cathrine's Children's Home. There was no denying the sent, Harry Potter lived here.

A tired and worried voice cut the air and Sirius, not for the first time was infinitely impressed with the senses of a dog.

"Yes, Robbie has a concussion, and that's about it, he'll be released in a few hours." He tuned out the voice and heard the phone click onto a hard surface inside the house.

What is Harry doing here anyways, he isn't supposed to be in Wallingford at all, he's supposed to be on the other side of Surrey...To think, if I hadn't been here by pure luck, I would have never found his sent...I would have never found him. Sirius's eyes shot up...I would have never found him...If he wouldn't have been able to find him if not for his sent, which he was pretty sure he was the only one who knew it, other than perhaps moony near a full moon, than maybe, just maybe no one else would find him either...until I want them too...He thought. Laying himself in the undergrowth behind the back garden of the Children's Home, he lay in wait, for the moment he would get to lay eyes on his godson once more, the only good thing he had left in his life.

Sirius was jolted awake by the sounds of the van door sliding open, and then slamming shut. He scrambled out of the brambles, and saw to his joy, the face of Harry walking live and well up the path.

Forgetting he was indeed a dog...he called out joyfully to the boy, what came out was a harsh bark.

Rachel Simmons watched as the dog bounded across the green, headed straight for the child.

Good lord, all this boy does is attract trouble! She thought, as she ran towards the young child. "Get back you brute, go on, shoo!" She said fiercely to the large dog. Sirius was stunned momentarily, forgetting that he must look rather imposing, as a large galumphing dog.

Robbie for the first time Rachel's memory had emotion in his eyes, as far as she could tell, it wasn't fear, it was raw, and unreadable.

"Wait!" He said in a scratchy whisper. Rachel was shocked into silence as though the child had screamed.

"Robbie!" She sputtered, in utter disbelief. The dog had reached him by then and was staring at the interaction between the coordinator and the child.

"Please don't send the dog away, he's special! I promise I'll be good from now on, but don't take him away...please..." He begged, his voice harsh from lack of use.

Rachel couldn't answer, the mute, supposedly antisocial and developmentally challenged child was begging her to keep a large shaggy dog, who was reading, no, looking at the child's still intact hospital bracelet.

Will anything about you be normal and simple Robbie? Rachel thought to herself as she rubbed her forehead.

"Alright Robbie, you can keep him, as long as you promise me you'll talk from now on..." She heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like her own say from behind her stunned lips.

"I promise." The child said, as he laughed and walked into the house, for the first time in Rachel's memory, the boy lacked his haunted, dead look in his eyes.

Once Harry was in his room, he looked into the eyes of the palest blue. "I knew you would come back Padfoot, I waited for you..." He said, throwing his hands around the dog's neck.

"Don't be so surprised, you are the last memory I have of my old life, I dream about you all the time...I didn't let myself forget. I know I'm not Robbie..."

A/N: Well, that's the first chapter, let me know what you think about it folks, obviously, it's highly AU, but that's chill, I hate the fact that Sirius died, so, hey, in ff world anything is possible, so what the hay...

P.S Harry doesn't know that he is a wizard, or that his parents were, or that Padfoot is a human...he just remembered him as a dog...