DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!
Nearly 10 years had passed since the Dursleys had dropped an unsuspecting Harry off at his very first London orphanage. Since then, everything had changed.
The sun rose early on that late July morning, bathing its warm light on a mass of bedraggled jet black hair. The hair belonged to a boy, dirty and unkempt. He was sleeping peacefully on a very worn mattress in the corner of a shabby looking room. Everything was colored in a dull brown, even the small window was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The boy himself, wore brown pants, too large brown boots and a dirty brown shirt. His black cloak was the only difference in his outfit, currently he was using it as a blanket.
The sun light slowly creeped across his room and started highlighting the young boys body, once it finally reached his head, he started to groan, rocking from side to side, trying to hide. It wasn't long before the need for food made itself aware either. The kid couldn't catch a break.
Harry pushed himself up like a lion, stretching all of his muscles after a restful sleep. Once he heard the loud crack from his lower back, he sighed and sat up straight. He tried to gather most of the hair out of his face and tie it with some string at the base of his neck. He attempted to keep his hair relatively long, in order to hide his face and the scar on his forehead.
From a very early age Harry had learnt that his unusual scar could be used to identify him easily, not something a pick pocket would ever want. So, he always left a few strands of hair out, to fall across his face.
A loud grumble from deep within him urged Harry to get out of bed, he climbed to his feet and sleepily made his way across to the small hole in the wall of his room. He first stuck his head out hesitantly, searching for anyone wandering the back alley behind his desolate building. When he saw nothing, he shimmied through the hole and climbed swiftly down the side of the building, landing on the cobbled floor with a soft thud.
Like every morning Harry quickly padded down narrow alleyways, slinking stealthily in the early morning shadows. He finally stopped at the opening to a courtyard, where a water well sat peacefully in the morning light. He took a quick glance in every direction, a few people were milling about, before he strode out purposefully and sat down on the step next to the well.
He casually dipped his hand into the water and then slapped it across his face, smiling.
'Boy!' the loud booming voice, caused him to freeze for a moment before leaning back and turning his face into the sun. 'How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my well!'
He didn't even bother to move as he answered 'Why Mr Arrow, I'm beginning to think you don't like me,' his flippant tone would be enough to annoy any man. Let alone Mr Arrow.
'If I still had my wand you'd be nothing but a smudge on the floor!' Mr Arrow bellowed menacingly, the people milling around instantly began to dissolve out of sight. 'You filthy little street rat!'
'A tad harsh,' the boy replied, still sitting in his languid position. Mr Arrow narrowed his crinkly eyes at the boy, he may be getting on in years but he wasn't as brittle as he seemed. The old man lunged at the boy, with speed you wouldn't believe, but seemingly aware of the man's idea Harry rolled out of the way and bounced up a good yard from Mr Arrow.
'I'm afraid I can't stop' he sang happily, backing away slowly, hyper aware of his surroundings. 'We can try again tomorrow!' he called to the seething old man before speeding away.
Harry sprinted down winding cobbled streets, before finally escaping into Knockturn Alley. The decrepit street was alive with activity, small stalls were set up, selling fresh bread and fruit, as well as some other unsavory items. Harry sloped in and out of the crowd heading straight towards a group of women who sat chatting happily, on the steps of a pub, called the Dementors Inn.
'Bertha, Clarice beautiful as always' Harry flashed them a lopsided grin, and took a bite of the juicy red apple in his hands. No one had noticed him pick it up from one of the stalls.
The red head winked at him 'Hey Kid. Not dead yet I see'
'Clarice, you wound me' Harry placed a hand over his heart, pouting at the woman in front of him. He had met these women when he first stumbled across Diagon Alley four years earlier, he had followed them into The Leakey Cauldron, and then through to Knockturn Alley; the rest was history.
'Leave him alone Clarice, he'll be out of our hair soon anyway' Bertha smiled at Harry.
'Got to be close to eleven soon' Clarice agreed, turning back to the small brunette beside her, continuing their conversation. Bertha beckoned Harry to sit beside him, he did so, sitting on a step just below her own.
Bertha clasped Harry's jaw in her perfectly manicured hand 'Those eyes are gonna break hearts', she traced one finger around his almond shaped eyes before releasing him. 'Don't forget us, you arrogant little tosser'
'Me? Never' Harry grinned, leaping up from his seat. He bowed low to Bertha and then to the other women 'Ladies'
Harry started walking towards the end of Knockturn Alley, finishing his apple as he went. It was a pleasant morning, things were looking his way.
A cloaked figure to his left caught Harry's attention, not that mysterious figures were rare in Knockturn Alley; that alone would be pretty common. It was the smell of chemical cleanliness permeating the air that really drew Harry's attention, when you live your life in a seedy world you know when things don't belong.
Another figure not far ahead stepped out from the entrance to Diagon Alley, blocking Harry's escape. Not good.
'Gentleman' Harry rested on the balls of his feet.
The figure to his left spoke first 'Come quietly'.
Harry smirked, he knew he was out numbered, he knew they had wands (reluctant as they were to use them on a minor). 'Don't you boys have something more important to do?' Harry drawled.
The figure in front of him grunted, as if noting the ridiculousness of this mission. Harry couldn't fault him, he was a scrawny kid, what would Auror's want with him?
'You stole from the Minister of Magic' the Auror to his left explained, taking a hesitant step forward.
'Did I?' Harry smirked. 'Doesn't sound like me. Must have been my twin.'
'My boots on your feet say differently'
Harry quickly glanced down at his too large boots, 'You have exceptionally small feet', he mused. He could practically hear the Auror to his left growl at the statement. Harry began backing up to the building on his right, keeping a wary eye on the two Auror's following his movements.
'Come quietly, the Ministers approved the use of wands', the Auror to his left sneered. Harry's heart beat escalated ten fold at the statement, he faked to the left and then lunged forwards when two spells went shooting over his head. He shot between the Auror's and sprinted to the mouth of his escape, desperate to get to the loud noises and busy crowds of Diagon Alley.
Harry peered quickly over his shoulder, and ducked low when he saw another few spells fly towards him. He was just about to escape into the early morning crowds, when his whole body froze simultaneously, causing him to fall like a statue onto the street floor. He urged his body to move but he felt completely numb, like a mind trapped in a heap of rock.
'Stupid kid' he heard someone say from just above him. 'Turn him over Savage'
The Auror named Savage heaved the boy over until he lay in an awkward position on his back, staring daggers at the two men who would dare detain him. At first Harry thought the two men were just gloating over their capture ,and that's why they made no movement. But he soon realized that they weren't just staring at him, they were fixated specifically on his forehead.
He watched frozen as they looked at each other and then back at his forehead. 'It's Potter' he heard them whisper reverently, looking excitedly at one another. Harry let confusion shine through his emerald eyes, he wasn't Potter, that kid lived with his relatives or something; or so he'd heard.
'Grab him, we'll take him to Robarbs' the two men knelt down besides Harry, grabbing a hold of his frozen arms. The next thing he knew everything went black; he was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breath, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull. Then it stopped.
Harry was lying flat on his back in a very well lit room. His body still frozen, which at the moment he was very thankful for, if he could move he was sure he'd throw up that damn apple.
'What's the meaning of this Savage, Williamson?' Harry heard a deep voice yell in surprise.
'Its him Sir, it's Potter! We found him' Savage explained, somewhere not far from Harry. What did they mean they'd 'found' him, Potter was with his relatives everyone knew that. How could they possibly lose someone that important?
For a moment nobody said anything, and then there was a flurry of movement around Harry. 'Alright, call the Minister and Dumbledore, get Potter into one of the holding rooms, don't let him go. MOVE' Robarbs ordered, obviously the one in charge.
Harry felt his stomach drop, he was being held by the head Auror, holy crap he was in trouble. There must be some mistake, he was Harry, just Harry. He felt himself being levitated into a smaller room and placed standing in the far corner.
'Okay' Harry heard a female voice say from beside him. 'Were going to let you go, don't run or we'll put you back under' the voice warned. Slowly his body started to return, the tips of his fingers and toes were released first. When he finally felt his midsection released Harry fell forwards onto the table in front of him, breathing heavily.
'It's okay, its normal to feel a little off, you've been under for a while' the woman's voice explained again, a gentle hand placed on his lower back. The simple touch brought Harry back to reality, he was in trouble, he was trapped and they all thought he was someone he wasn't. This could be fun.