AN: Hello all, just a little heads up : the chapter after this one might take awhile because my brain ( and my pencil apparently) skipped ahead and I'm currently writing a scene that I haven't even figured out how its going to happen yet. Oh well. Any who, I would like to hear ya'll's opinions on what you think of Hylas's character so far, but of course any reviews at all are appreciate. Hope ya'll enjoy this little chapter.

Paxloria: Thank you for your suggestion (to be honest I really didn't consider loop-holes like that when I came up with the idea) and I am considering whether or not I can put it in the story line. I just wanted to thank you for your consideration and input.

Thank you all who read, reviewed, faved, or followed.

Chapter Three:

A fair mid-summer's morning the post arrived per normal at Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England. Hylas of course had been 'nominated' to fetch it after cooking whale number one and whale number two's breakfast as the anorexic whale supervised.

Hylas, before becoming, in a sense, Harry Potter, had never cooked or graced a kitchen with his presence before in his life. Why would he have? Culinary skills had not been a part of his curriculum, it was not pertinent for him to know how to cook, of all things, to succeed his father as Earl Potter, and, besides, they had had hired servants to perform the task. His mother had certainly not known her way about a kitchen, more likely than not, she wouldn't have even known where to begin.

So, needless to say, when Petunia Dursley had first expected him to turn out three course breakfasts, four course lunches, and five course dinners when he had first arrived, the woman had, as anyone could predict, been less than impressed with the results.

She had at first been under the impression that her 'nephew' was purposely ruining the food her good, hardworking, non-freakish husband had worked hard for. To her it was unnatural and incomprehensible, for a boy who had been able to complete such a task one day, and had been doing so for a number of years, to suddenly become completely illiterate regarding anything cookery wise.

Vernon punished Hylas for 'insubordination' many times over those early weeks.

It took her a month of eating out due to Hylas's production of uneatable slop, that she reached the conclusion that the boy was seriously unable to make anything victuals wise due to insufficient knowledge.

Petunia questioned the boy thoroughly after he shattered her, thankfully, second best tea pot. She discovered that not only did he not know that hot water was suppose to be boiled in a kettle, not the tea pot, he was under the misconception that tea came prepared with sugar, milk, and all the fixings. Did you really have to add that all yourself?

After that incident Hylas found himself quite well versed in the knowledge of cookery, that and the fact he had to wash all the dishes by hand, gave him a firm appreciation for the servants he had had back home.

Anyway the day the letter arrived, as had become a compulsion over the course of four years; Hylas quickly read though the addresses labeled on the envelopes. Per the norm they were generally bills but one in particular caught his attention almost at once. It was made out of a heavy parchment paper that he had not seen in common use in this world and its strange coat of arms made it stand out from the rest.

He narrowed his eyes at the suspiciously detailed address on the peculiar letter, but it was swiftly tucked within the folds of his baggy trousers. Trousers, might he add, that Dudley had outgrown at the age of four and had fit Hylas more snuggly when he had first arrived at age seven than they did now that he was eleven.

Sooner than he would have liked but almost too long in the Dursley's crackbrained minds he returned to the kitchen, handing the post over to Vernon, who responded with a grunt. Petunia handed him three crackers and a bite of moldy cheese, along with a list of that day's chores, and instructions to clean up the kitchen.

He proceeded to forget about the queer letter as his brain recited information from the medical texts he had studied during the school year as he preformed the menial tasks that he had to complete to even have the possibility of receiving dinner. Though irksome he knew he would not be given any lunch even though it was a given that he would cook it.

Hylas was many things but he wasn't delusional and he tried to refrain from lying to himself.

Ever since he had comprehended his physical inequities regarding his health, a thing which had vastly been ignored since his arrival here, he had always desired, ruefully, to become a doctor. It was a profession he greatly admired and respected, and he had read medical texts since he had developed the ability to read.

But, as previously stated, he was not a liar, and as he was firm in the aspiration to return to his world, he knew as he always had known, he would not be able to become a doctor. Once he returned, he refused to believe there was an 'if' in that sentiment, for it would be only a matter of 'when' not 'if', he would continue his studies to succeed his father , wed, produce an heir, and then take over his father's job of running the family's various business ventures, companies, and estates. He would not bare the honor of completing his dream of becoming a doctor, it just was not an option available to him.

Nevertheless, that knowledge did nothing to prevent him from becoming quite proficient in the subject and mentally recording all the medical and scientific biological advances that this world had developed.

In this way he was able to study and complete his chores in a mechanical process. When he went in that night he cooked a lavish dinner. While the Dursley's were devouring the food he tried to eat slowly, as to make his overly browned roll and small slice of ham last as long as possible. He was then ordered to his cupboard, where he pulled out the letter that he hadn't the time to consider since morning.

…He wasn't quite sure what to think even after reading the preposterous letter multiple times.

But then again the letter did explain some things. This magic could be what the man with the long silver beard used to drag him from his home world. Hylas glanced down at the innocent looking sliver band adorning his right wrist. Yes, magic did explain a lot, if, it truly existed.

And anyway how was one to respond by owl? Go up to some random owl in the woods at night and ask 'Oh, Mr. Owl, will you please deliver this letter to some mad person at this ridiculously named school that sounds so faux it's not even funny'? Hylas had never seen anyone with a pet owl in his world and the way the Dursley's acted about some things, especially fantasy, made him believe that this certainly wasn't normal.

He shrugged a habit he had picked up over time from this world which would probably ruin his posture, and tossed the letter aside. He would ask Petunia in the morning –after Vernon had left for work and Dudley off with his friends- she would either laugh in his face for being gullible or screech in that irritatingly high-pitched voice of hers that magic didn't exist and that he was going to be punished severely once Vernon returned.

Or, quite possibly do both.

Hylas rolled his eyes at the thought of the Dursleys, twisting on his narrow cot trying –most certainly not succeeding- to get comfortable. Even with the beatings he failed to see the Dursleys as a real threat, to him they were merely flies that were constantly irritating him by buzzing in his ear and occasionally taking a bit. Pests and nothing more.

Territerriterriterriterri

Hylas watched with a glimmer of amusement as Petunia Dursley went from a ghostly pale to a shade of red that was reminiscent of a tomato not yet ready to be picked.

He had just walked into the kitchen after the male Dursleys had left and handed her the letter. He had expected scoffing or even laughing. What he had not expected was for Petunia to look as if someone had just pushed Dudley off a cliff, she looked utterly terrified and moments away from emptying her stomach of its breakfast.

She collapsed in a chair and Hylas sat down across from her. She knew something, obviously, and he planned on finding out.

Territerriterriterri

"They'll just send you back you know, when summer holiday starts again, sooner if they realize you're not here."

Hylas turned towards her, his face in the expressionless form he had rarely been out of for years. There was no light in his eyes, but if one looked very closely they could see a smoldering of – something, there, otherwise they were cold but beautiful, so, so beautiful emeralds cut in a stunning facet. Most of this near in-human expression was concealed by long bangs that hung straight down, longer on the sides where it framed his flawless heart-shaped face, the cut jagged due to him doing it himself without even a mirror. It somehow still managed to come out fashionably.

"Madame," he said in a rather frigid tone that was firm. "You have given me the accurate coordinates for this… 'Leaky Cauldron' place –correct?" at her nod he continued. "You also confirm that the one time you met my … father, he was in possession of a large ring upon his hand with what appeared to be some fashion of a family crest." Another nod met his inquiry.

"Then Madame, if all goes well and you play your part and I mine then no one will have any reason to inquire as to if this is my place of residence."

"Besides," he said as he elegantly flipped his ratty duffle bag over his shoulder. It contained a few pieces of food, the letter from 'Hogwarts', and the few garments that weren't completely in tatters. In his shoe he had stashed enough pounds to get him to London and hopefully a place to stay for the night, he had swiped it from the Dursleys hiding place in one of the drawers when Petunia wasn't looking. "Whoever left me in your care was an inept moron. You have no legal documentation that I was actually left in your care, no birth certificate, no medical records – the only thing that could possible make you responsible for me is our 'blood'," the words were twisting in his mouth and making it taste sour "connection and the fact you have taken care of me for some number of years. Two thing, might I add, that will not hold up in a court of law to land you with any responsibility."

Petunia's brow was furrowed in thought, and the look made her appear silly because it was a look rarely seen – a look of thought.

"In a normal court," she finally said derisively. "That lot my sister went off with always thought themselves entitled, better than us normal people. They never followed any normal law."

Hylas quirked an eyebrow, a movement hidden by his bangs. "Well, even these people must have some procedure for the management and placement of orphaned children, any relatively civilized society does." It was noted that Petunia's lip twitched slightly upwards as he spoke the words 'relatively civilized'.

"I find it quite obvious that whoever placed me here entirely disregarded proper government, any government really, procedure." Really, kidnapping children and transporting them across worlds just had to be illegal. Petunia nodded. "As that has been settled, farewell Mrs. Dursley." Hylas said without looking back at her as he turned the door knob.

Mrs. Dursley did not reply and Hylas did not even bother to glance over his shoulder to see if she was still there. It didn't matter; neither of them held any love for the other and both were hoping that things would work out as planned so that they might never again have to suffer each other's presence.

Privet Drive was eerily silent as he made his way down the street. There were no children up this early out playing nor was it late enough for the adults to be busy working in their lawns, or porch sitting drinking their morning cuppas. The sky hadn't yet even acquired the faintest of pink or orange tinge that told the fore coming of the sun.

Hylas trudged forward with his head held high. He didn't spare a backwards glance.