Harry sat slouched in one of the small metal chairs against the wall of the office as the headmaster and his guest reentered the room.

"So here he is…what's your name again, if you don't mind."

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore."

"Right." The headmaster boomed. "Dumbledore. Now you mind yours, Potter. Stupid boy. Glad to be seeing the back of him." He brushed past the man- Dumbledore- and left them alone in the office.

"So…" The man began, idly examining the items on the desk. "Harry-"

"Did the Dursleys send you here?" Harry interrupted in a cold tone. "Did they send you here to come and get me and take me away some place worse? Because I'll run away and you won't be able to catch me."

Dumbledore met Harry's glare with a slight smile. "Oh, I'm quite sure you would be very difficult to find, indeed. But as it has taken us a long time to find you in the first place, I hope that you will choose to stay put." Harry frowned. This man had been looking for him, but he had only been gone for a couple hours. He found himself even more confused as to what kind of school this was supposed to be. As if reading his mind, Dumbledore continued. "Now are you prepared to listen to what I have to say? Because once I have spoken, all intentions will be fully revealed, and hopefully all misunderstandings will be cleared up However, you must promise me that you will sit and listen quietly until I have finished speaking. Do we have an agreement?" Harry nodded, his mouth pressed tightly shut.

"Very well. There are people in this world, Harry, who have abilities beyond those of average humans. People with the ability to make things happen with their mind, perhaps just because they want something badly enough." Harry stiffened in his seat suspiciously. "Yes, I see you do understand what I am speaking of. These people have access to a power that, to keep things somewhat simple, we will call magic. Your parents, Harry, were both wizards. Very talented wizards, to be precise. And I have reason to believe that you have these powers as well. In fact, I'd be very surprised if you did not." He watched Harry closely, looking for some sort of response. "Now do you have any questions about that before we move on?"

Harry sat silent, dumbfounded, until a raspy grumble cleared his throat. "What kind of magic can…um…wizards do?"

Dumbledore looked at him very strangely for a moment, as if recognizing someone he had met before. "Would you like a demonstration?" He offered kindly. Harry, feeling unusually guilty in a way he couldn't pinpoint, gave a curt nod. "Very well. I believe I know just the thing." Harry watched the man's aged eyelids flutter closed for a brief second as he pulled a thin wand out of his pocket. The wand gave a quick swish and the wallet from within Harry's pocket flew up into the air. Harry's hand shot up to grab at it, closing around the smooth leather after a few empty efforts. Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked once again on the verge of recognition, but didn't speak.

"What about my parents?" Harry asked quietly, stuffing the wallet back into his pocket.

Whatever silent concerns Dumbledore might have had seemed to resolve themselves just as he began to speak. "Years ago, when you were only an infant, there was a man who wanted to kill both muggles and those that associated with them. He had great power in the wizarding community, and that power made him extremely dangerous. People came together to stand up against the rise of this man, in hopes of protecting millions of people from his cruelty. They were heroes, Harry, and your parents were involved."

"What's a muggle?" He asked immediately.

"A non-magical human."

Harry released a loud exhale and raked a hand over his hair out of habit. He was a wizard. His parents were wizards. He had been told his parents died in a car crash, and that it had caused the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Everybody knew magic wasn't real, but the explanation resonated somewhere within him as true, belying all logical reasoning…and it was such a strange shaped scar for a car-accident…. "What happened to them?"

"They were murdered. Your mother… she died protecting you. That protection, that love, left its mark on your forehead. This man cast a curse on you, a killing curse. Curse scars," he continued, "Are very rare, but the protection your mother's sacrifice offered reversed the spell back onto him, leaving you with only a scar."

"Who is this person, anyway? This nut who goes about killing people for fun. Who killed my parents. Why did they even get involved?"

"This man went by the name of Lord Voldemort. Your parents were involved because they were brave, good people. They couldn't stand to see those around them suffer."

"I've been suffering!" Harry snapped impatiently, the blood rushing to his face in a sudden burst of anger. "If you liked my folks so much, how come you left me out here to fend for myself? Having fun with, I dunno, your wands and fairy dust and all, while I've been here? Nice of you to stop by and visit, but you could have written or something. Anything!"

"Your anger is quite expected, and completely well-deserved. Harry, you were sent to live with your aunt and uncle for your own protection. Typically, letters are sent by the age of eleven as an invitation to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but there were complications, in your case. I had reason to believe Lord Voldemort had returned, had compromised the safety of Hogwarts even at that point. Out of concern for your safety, your letter was postponed. We were left… uninformed when they decided to send you away to school. Now, even in his weakened, vulnerable state, Voldemort has once again begun to collect his followers…."

Harry thought of his dreams, where he was something- something else entirely. Frustrated by his own weakness. Forced into being coddled and cared for like an infant by unworthy servants, cowards who had deserted him. The resentment and rage and… anticipation. "So what makes it any safer now?" Harry asked, his curiosity trumping his temper.

"It isn't. But unfortunately, we have little choice. When he gave you that scar, Voldemort marked you as his equal. Your help will be integral to his defeat."

Harry rose to his feet with a faint growl. "So you thought you'd come and ask for my help. To help you, after you people killed my parents, then left me to rot with those disgusting Dursleys. You let them send me here! See, you make it sound like I was some kind of hero, getting rid of this Lord fellow, but it was you who sent me away, wasn't it? For my 'own protection', though, can't forget that!" He kicked at his chair until it toppled over sideways with a clatter, his anger rising until he felt it had completely taken control. "An' now he's back. An' if I'm so safe here, maybe I don't want to leave to go to your bloody school!" Harry stormed away toward the door, turning around only as an afterthought. "Besides, if you think the Dursleys will put in book money so I can go live with you and your stupid magic, you'd best think again. They're not exactly generous. I would know," he sneered. "I'm the one who lived with them."

"Harry," Dumbledore started, with an edge of warning, but with that strange twinkle returning to his eyes. "You didn't think that your parents would leave you with nothing, did you?"