Yo.

First off, FUCK YES LOOK WHAT I HAVE HERE! *laughs* Yes, this is an unbeta'd update for you my minions! It's a tad bit short, but it's better than nothing, and I actually really like this one after all my internal angst on having writer's block.

Second, FUCK YOU KIRK CAMERON!

Thirdly, I got married. I have two step-children (that are admittedly closer to my age than I am to my husband, but fuck you haters). And I'm cancer-free. Get some, bitches.

I'm a very happy person. Add me as a friend/come talk to me on LiveJournal and I'll be even happier: amarx17 (at) livejournal (dot) com. Because I'm an LJ whore, and I have no qualms about shameless self-promotion. I'd go into the fact that I have a tumblr, a twitter, and ANOTHER FFdotNet account (haha, I've been active and you didn't even KNOW it! XD), but that's on my profile for a reason.

Anyway, enjoy the update!

Ja ne!
UK.

Chapter Two
The Old Man With A Beetle Fetish

3 August 2000

A few months before marrying Ginny, at a wedding party, Harry had come clean rather quickly.

Rather bluntly as well. He had been relatively drunk, but that wasn't really a good excuse in the long run. He couldn't have married her if he kept his mouth shut.

"I like sucking cock," Harry had slurred helpfully.

Ginny had rolled her eyes. "Me too, Harry, me too."

And that had been the end of that conversation.

16 June 2002

After chucking his fast food bag in the back-seat, Harry exited the Mini Cooper ungracefully.

This was in contrast to Malfoy, who elegantly folded his way out of the passenger side, strutted to the tip of the bonnet, and waited for Harry to join him. Harry, naturally, was trying to untangle his long limbs from the driver's side, annoyed that he had asked for Hermione's (admittedly by Harry) fabulous car instead of Ron's minivan (which happened to be the brunt of a lot of Weasley jokes). At least he would've been able to get around in the van, instead of the stylish box that Hermione easily fit into. Harry was too tall for the damn thing though, being as tall as he was. Six-foot-tall wizards with egos to match (although he would deny it, obviously) didn't belong in compacts.

They followed the armed guards into the massive wooden doors, and were rushed by a rather magnificent foyer into the main building. Harry absorbed the sights—sitting areas with plush armchairs; magnificent dining areas with stainless dinnerware already placed; libraries that rivalled Hogwarts; a room with a seamstress stitching something rather beautiful through the open doorway; classrooms with small amounts of young children doing complex science experiments; a teen-aged girl doing complicated-looking mathematics on a dry-erase board all by herself; a room where ten teens were doing martial arts lessons with a black belt instructor—and tried not to get too enthralled about the academics and luxury these children were surrounded with.

Malfoy, of course, seemed completely unaffected, probably because his house looked like this place itself, minus the classrooms.

The pompous, spoilt prat.

They made their way up to the third floor, the top naturally, and were led into an office covered in artwork of various insects and animals. There seemed to be more beetles than anything, which didn't exactly make Harry very comfortable. Beetles were disgusting things, probably because he had had a bad experience with a beetle when he had been ten.

But that was beside the point.

They were led to the two seats placed in front of a massive wooden desk. Said desk was remarkably organised, but the man sitting behind said desk looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. His hair was a rumpled mess, his brown tweed suit in even worse condition, and his round glasses were lopsided on his peckish face.

"Hello," the man said in a dull British lilt. "I'm Roger Ruvie, and I am currently in charge of this establishment while the owner is away." He finished plugging a butterfly's wings to a pin-board and then looked up, blinking slowly. Harry chanced a look at Malfoy, who looked haughty and dignified all proper in his chair, and then Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hello mate," Harry said loudly, leaning forward all sloppy-like. He could feel Malfoy's icy eyes boring into his skull, a silent demand to shut the fuck up, and he ignored it promptly like any good nemesis with no self-preservation would. "So we're here to talk about my cousin being kidnapped by you crazy people, who not only made his records all-but disappear of the face of the planet but also just escorted us in by armed lackeys that could be purchased in Germany. Or America, but let's be honest."

Ruvie's eyes narrowed.

Malfoy interjected in an even, collected tone, "What my client is trying to say is that we have recently become aware of a particular orphan within your midst that is biologically related to him. Unfortunately, his existence has been a complete and total mystery considering this institution's rather unfortunate attempt to erase his identity."

Harry shot Malfoy another look, and then got distracted by Malfoy's hand making a cut-throat gesture under the desk where Ruvie couldn't see it. Harry pushed down his anger and sat back languidly, catching the hint but not happy about it. He was about two seconds away from accidental magic and a mad dash yelling "Nate Riiiiiiver! Come to Cousin Harry!" at the top of his lungs. Which was probably a bad idea, but Harry wasn't exactly known for his brilliant, thought-out plans. That was Hermione's job, and she was doing political-law stuff at the Ministry, leaving Harry hanging with his buffoon of an arch-nemesis.

Never mind that he was ridiculously successful. Harry still saw the boy who cried like a baby and resorted to petty muscle to get his way (naturally, Harry conveniently overlooked the fact that he had resorted to meddling and outright childish fights himself, but who was paying attention?). Honestly.

"Out of curiosity, how did you come about this information?" asked Ruvie, his voice a bit more sharp. "Are you even entirely sure that your sources are accurate, or that this particular child resides here, a prestigious orphanage with the best schooling programme that money can buy?"

Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy said in a chilly voice, "With all do respect, I would not come here to take up your time with false statements and ridiculous claims. I've got his birth certificate and Quillish Wammy's name on record as the man who paid for his transport to the United Kingdom and authorised his citizenship in Britain. He's here, Mr Ruvie, and unless you can give me transfer papers or a death certificate on one Nate River, I will take you to court for custody."

Harry frowned as every drop of colour bled from the old man's rosy cheeks.

Ruvie recovered after a moment, still very pale, but his voice was like cold steel. "Nate River, you say? And you have evidence proving that this man here is related to him? Very well—please present this evidence and I shall present my evidence proving that you will never lay a hand on him."

Harry shot another look towards Malfoy, who didn't look threatened at all. In fact, he seemed amused. With a graceful, flourished movement, Malfoy pulled out his briefcase (which had been checked by security) and opened the clasps. He pulled a manilla file, straightening it unnecessarily with a tap on the end of Ruvie's desk, and then handed it over.

Ruvie studied the documents for a long moment, his face carefully blank. His voice still sharp, he said, "Paperwork that states James Potter is your father, and that James Potter's sister was Melanie Potter. Also paperwork that states Nate River being the offspring of Melanie River née Potter and David River." Ruvie then looked up. "Paperwork that has Mr Wammy's signature on it, proving that he is in this country and living in this establishment. Hmm, this is supposed to be a sealed file."

Malfoy smiled his let's-pretend-I'm-innocent-and-genial-while-we-both-know-I'm-a-manipulative-sonofabitch smile. "Your establishment and perhaps even you know how it is. If you have the right connections and the drive to get something done, there's no limit to what one can accomplish. You nearly exterminating Nate River's identity to the point where my client would never know him is a perfect example."

Ruvie gave him a look, and Harry fought the urge to frown. With as much money as these people were throwing around, Harry wasn't sure if it was wise for Malfoy to pretty much admit that he had bribed and perhaps illegally searched for information. There was no telling if the man had audio recorders hidden about, so anyone could've been listening in.

Ruvie then stood up and made his way to a elegantly crafted wooden file cabinet, unlocking it with a key in his suit pocket. For a while, the only sound in the room was the shuffling of paper and the whoosh of drawers smoothly sliding to position, and then Ruvie hummed under his breath.

He walked back, his own folder in his old hands, and Harry's eyes could see his cousin's name on the tab. He unconsciously sat up straighter, because he knew that he was about to see adoption papers, the one thing that he definitely did not want to see.

He wasn't proven wrong. They were in a file, and it seemed legal to Harry as he peeked over Malfoy's shoulder with a frown. Nate River, adopted on 17 April 1994? God, and it even had rather official seals of approval along the edges. "You can keep those, if you'd like," Ruvie said, not giving any indication of his mood through his voice. "They're copies."

Malfoy's icy grey eyes glanced up, and then a small smile curved his lips. "Lovely," he said, his voice genial and even. "Sounds like I have a case." He stood up and pushed out a hand, which Ruvie accepted. They shook each other's hands, before Harry copied the gesture. He put quite a bit of effort into not breaking the man's fingers or baring his teeth, so when they finally left the office and made their way downstairs, he felt rather proud of himself.

He almost missed the flash of yellow and black out of his peripheral vision. When he turned to follow the movement, it was already gone.

When the two men left his office, Roger Ruvie picked up his phone with shaking fingers.

When Wammy picked up the phone, he said, "The second man is Harry Potter. And before you ask: yes, I mean the Harry Potter. Tell your favourite little brat that he's overlooked something big this time, and both of you get down here as soon as you can."

Quillish let out a long sigh and said in French, "This is unfortunate. We'll be there later this evening. Prepare the children and don't talk to them, although I'd be willing to imagine that they already know."

"Understood," answered Roger, and terminated the call.

He had to prepare, because it was going to get rather nasty soon, he was sure.

"He's gone," Mello said unnecessarily, head poking out of the doorway.

In his low, quiet voice, Near said, "I figured that would be an easy deduction to make, considering Matt has the cameras watching them."

Mello let out a piercing shriek, face going red with anger as he whipped his head around. "Why don't we let that weird British prick take your fucking arse to that stupid school, hmm? God knows you'll be in a lot worse shape there than you are here. Your fucking genius will leak out your stupid ears from all the mundane bullshit."

"C'mon guys, let's not fight again!" Then, in a clear and pure singing voice, Linda sang, "Why can't we all be friends, why can't we be friends?"

Matt rolled his eyes from behind his goggles and said, "Stop bickering. Stop singing. Everyone just shut up. We have to come to an agreement on this."

Mind, everyone spoke in different languages, most often their native ones. It helped everyone with languages that weren't their own, and it also helped with hearing, understanding, and absorbing multiple languages at once without being overwhelmed. It was a small trick the multilingual teachers pounded in the orphan's heads.

Mello was from Germany, so not only was he constantly swearing and insulting people in German, he also sounded more pissed off than the words themselves even indicated. Nate, being natively multilingual in French and English, decided to speak in English because Yolly claimed French.

Their main tutors, X, Y, and Z were no different. Yolly was a native Frenchwoman and used it in her thick accent, Linda was Dutch and spoke it fast and furious, Zingo was from Egypt and spoke lazy Arabic, and Xeno was a posh and dapper Englishman who spoke his first language, Afrikaans.

Matt himself was from Jersey and proud to say it, so he spoke his own form of English, full of dope slang and blahblahblah, but he didn't speak in English around the Letters. He spoke Klingon. It was a widely recognised language after all, even if it wasn't the...most practical language. It worked though, and in a house full of geniuses, they tended to embellish and flesh out. It was fun.

It proved to be a bizarre mix all together though, but being in the race for the letters, all of them had to be on top of such things. Even in Klingon.

It was a bit surprising that none of them had opted out to speak Russian, considering that it was a fad between all members of the House, tutors or not, to make up shit. Oh, L likes tennis? Everyone, pick up a racket, even if he probably doesn't. Oh, L only eats candy? Everyone, grab a Mars Bar and get chomping, even though the detective must've had a metabolism like a beast to stay as skinny as he did. Only children would come up with something stupid like that, and only starry-eyed morons would listen to it.

It was probably true, though. L was one weird motherfucker.

"Agreement of what, exactly?" Mello grumbled. "I say we give the little annoying bastard to his famous cousin and be done with him."

"Yeah, because winning by cheating so makes you better than Near, doofus," said Linda.

"Be quiet, everyone," said Xeno, his voice not loud but carrying. He didn't need to speak loudly to be heard and understood, because he was X and he was first-generation. First-generation demanded respect. Even Mello bit his tongue, albeit unwillingly as he was visibly bristling from Linda's comment.

"He's right," agreed Zingo. "We need to come up with some agreement here. Obviously, this is Harry Potter. We all know Harry Potter, because who doesn't? He's like L, only a wizard. You know, can mobilise every government on the globe, has pretty much unlimited power, enjoys an ungodly amount of wealth, has saved the planet on multiple occasions by bringing evil men to justice..."

"That is ridiculous to say," said Yolly, a smirk on her lips. "Harry Potter is a very happily married man who is known for his happy-go-lucky-but-determined personality. Just had a kid too, I heard, and I'm sure he loves the ickle young lad so very, very much. As for L, he's artificial intelligence and is capable of no emotion, I'm sure of it."

"Wow, no, just...no," said Zingo.

Why the first-generation orphans were so idiotic and yet so smart, Matt didn't know. They were smart though, ungodly so. They weren't children any more, in fact in their early-to-mid-twenties, but once in the Race ever really left. They weren't eligible for the Race any more, but they had started out in the generation of A and B, and they had ended up coming back to the House anyway. No one really left, in the end, not even the ones just at the orphanage for study.

X, Y, and Z were almost as famous as B. They had been involved in the Detective Wars, something that the orphans all whispered about in awe, and they all carried their own detective codes. There was a reason people worshipped them despite their relatively young age: they had been the right-hand group of L and had helped him succeed.

B was a different story. He had gone missing in May, a month ago as it was the 16th of June, 2002. No one knew where he was, except presumably L. Everyone figured he'd show up eventually, probably by murdering someone. He had been threatening it for years. Literally.

Matt forced himself to pay attention when the soft-spoken Xeno said, "Regardless of personal vendettas or petty rivalries, the patrons and orphans at Wammy's House are one. We are all aware of what would happen if L's position was discovered by the world, because it would end in assassination most likely, and we all know that making sure we are all private and safe is the number one priority. It does not matter who is leading the Race to succeed L right now, because someone is trying to upset our way of life."

The library was quiet, so after a beat of silence Xeno went on, "As everyone knows, Harry Potter is a good man. The idea that one of our own is related to him by blood is a brilliant thing to behold. I know this — I'm a wizard just like you, Nate, and I know the noble things Harry Potter has done. Ultimately, it is not anyone's place to say what you choose to do with this knowledge, except for L."

"L'll never give him up," said Mello, his voice remarkably even. Mello wasn't stupid, and he knew that this was a big deal. Everyone had known this would happen, ever since Near had been seen levitating Lego blocks in the dining hall, but they hadn't known this. Mello didn't like Near and never really would, but Xeno was right: their stability was being threatened, and their dysfunctional genius-family was being threatened. Everyone would fight tooth and nail to protect their own.

It was a bit depressing that Near wouldn't really have a choice in the matter.

"He's right," said Yolly. "Near is adopted. They can take it to court all they like, but L will win in a Muggle court system if it comes to that. As long as Potter doesn't find out that L is knowledgeable about the Wizarding world, L will use that to his advantage. After all, there's no way in hell L can win a custody battle on Potter's home turf."

"To be fair, L is fully aware of how to manipulate the Wizengamont, Yolls," said Zingo, "but you're right. It'll be a lot easier on L's playing field, that's for sure. Draco Malfoy or not, L has way too many connections."

"Do you even believe it'll get into a courtroom?" asked Yolly. "Potter is renowned for being ruthless and loyal to his own as well, but I don't believe it'll get that far."

"Oh, I think so," said Xeno, matter-of-fact. "Honestly, I'll be surprised if Malfoy doesn't find out that L's quite influential on the Wizarding world. If a man that professional and thorough doesn't figure out that Wammy and L have standing arrangements through the Ministry about this orphanage teaching Muggles, I will sincerely doubt his skills. I think it'll hit the Wizengamont unless we can come up with something suitable."

"There's no way in hell that L will ever compromise," said Mello. "Look, I like Near about as much as I like bees, which you all know I'm deathly allergic to, but it's true that he's not going anywhere. Near's in the Race, just like Matt, Linda, and me, and Harry Potter will have to pry Near out of L's cold, dead fingertips for custody. Wammy has custody, Wammy's legal. As far as the supposedly magic-oblivious detective L is concerned, there were no links to tie Near to Potter."

"Everyone knows that Harry Potter doesn't exist in the Muggle world any more," agreed Zingo. "He'll be hard pressed to present paperwork agreeing with any argument, since there's nothing but Wizarding citizenship."

"This is not true," said Xeno. "The beauty of wizards like me is that we can do pretty much anything. Besides, this is Harry Potter. He has the funds and the political power to bribe or coerce people into accepting newly received paperwork that makes him an outstanding British citizen. He'll have everything he needs to win this case, provided that he can get passed the fact that Near's adopted."

"Might I interrupt your conversation about my life?" asked Near quietly, and all eyes looked at him. Matt noted that his expression, which was usually so blank and expressionless, seemed pinched and almost sick-like. When he had gotten everyone's attention, he said, "I agree with Mello." Said blond haired teen nearly choked on his lollipop at Near's words. "L will never compromise, and if it takes going to court, then it shall go to court. Even wizards abide by Muggle law when there is no Wizarding equivalent or there is justifiable reason to. Yes, this is Harry Potter, who is very powerful and wealthy and has the Wizarding world at his feet by being a war hero, but this does not matter. This is L, and L is no match for any single person except himself."

Everyone continued to stare, including Matt with wide green eyes. He had never heard Near speak so much in his entire life, and agreeing with Mello? It was clearly the end of the world.

Near swallowed visibly and then continued, "X, you went to Hogwarts for one year, the seventh, and that was only for N.E.W.T.s. The rest of your years were spent with a Ministry-appointed tutor who taught you everything you needed to know and more. I am sure a similar arrangement can be made for me, to study magic with a Ministry-appointed tutor or even you yourself. This is something I have been aware of for years now, and my viewpoints on my magical study is no different than anyone else's."

"This is true," said Xeno. "Even L told me via computer that this was the general plan. It has worked for the past five wizards, including you and me, that have been at this orphanage. In fact, there has been one witch or wizard in every one of the four generations at the House, and I don't see why you have to be any different."

Near nodded slightly, his faux-black eyes staring unseeingly at a stark white action figure in his hand. He was only almost-eleven and still playing with dolls — it was Mello's favourite teasing device, not that it did a lick of good. "As for the situation of Mr Potter, nothing shall come of it. Perhaps we are blood related, but I don't know him except through books. Just because I could be or am related to someone by blood does not mean anything in the long run. He is from a different life, and being L's successor is my goal."

"Fuck you too, bitch," mumbled Mello, digging a hand into a pocket to get some chocolate M&Ms.

"It does not matter what he wants, for I believe that between the seven of us, Mr Ruvie, Mr Wammy, and of course L himself, we are unstoppable. I will not leave the House, and I know that we will be successful keeping me here. L is capable of far too much, in both the Muggle world and the Wizarding world, to go down lightly. Mello is right: I belong here, in the Race, and L knows that. We all know what the purpose of the House is, and he won't let a potential heir out of his grasp."

Matt sighed. "Well, L is childish and hates to lose. L has saved the world from countless wars and has brought thousands of people to justice, but this is probably the biggest challenge he's ever partaken in regardless. This is going to be so much fun."

Mello snickered. "Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I call temporary truce. Let's have a break from studying all the time and fuck around with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Famous-One-Hit-Badarse. Deal, you guys?"

In a chorus of snorts and laughter, the group all cheered, "Deal!"

The silent, appraising Near caught Matt's goggle-covered eye and Matt nodded.

The Race wasn't important at the moment. The only thing that mattered was keeping Near with the dysfunctional family and where he belonged.

It really was going to be so much fun. Like a video game, only real.

Bring it on, he thought with an internal smirk.