Harry held the doorknob for a split second, then quickly opened it in a fit of courage. Beyond the door was a small room, bare except for the wooden desk in the middle and the aging man at it.

"Uh, hello?"

The bespectacled man looked up, surprised. He stared at the two for a moment then gave a stern glare.

"Children! You know not to come in here when I'm working. Go off to your rooms until supper."

"Uh..." Harry glanced at Cristina, who shrugged back. "We don't live here."

The man sighed. "Are you looking for a home?"

"No, no." The teen moved forward and out of the doorway. "We're fine. You're Mr. Jensen?"

"Why, yes!" Mr. Jensen visible brightened and, as Cristina came into view, ran a hand over his balding hair. "Are you looking to ado-"

"No!" Harry all but yelled. He had had enough awkward incestuous comments in the last five minutes. And coming from a nun no less...

"I'm actually here to ask about my files. You see I came here when I was about one and was adopted a few months later and now somethings come up and I'm kinda confused and so I thought maybe I should-" He winced as a manicured nail poked his spine. "Can I just see my files?"

For a few seconds the old man simply stared at them, but he then stood and walked past into the hallway, motioning for them to follow.

"Now, I can't show you your whole file, you understand? Because you don't have proof of who you are." He yelled back as he led them through the halls, where the children once again roamed. "What is your name, again?"

"I'm Harrison Brown," he took a quick step to the side as a kid gleefully holding up scissors ran past. As he went by Cristina she snatched them up, but he kept running with his hands up, oblivious to its absents.

Jensen continued to lead them through the orphanage, seemingly aimlessly (Harry was positive they went down the same corridor three times) for about ten minutes, until they finally came upon a door with multiple locks.

"Ah! Here we are! I keep all my papers in here for safety. Now where are those keys..."

It took another five minutes for him to find his keys, in which Harry was hit by three water balloons and an egg (partly because Cristina decided to take refuge behind his bigger form, making him take the blunt of the attacks) and Cristina was hit by one water balloon (mainly because Harry got sick of being her hero and quickly ducked when another one headed his way). When he finally found them (in his sock, which Harry thought would feel kinda awkward) the siblings practically shoved him in the room in their quest for shelter.

Harry started once he was safe enough to observe his surroundings. Simply put, the room was a mess. Filing cabinets lined the walls, but papers were literally erupting out of them. If a space wasn't occupied by cabinets it was covered either by a rouge piece of paper or a box filled with what Harry presumed was more paper.

"Now where did I put those records..."

Harry and Cristina groaned.

An hour later Harry and Cristina were sitting back to back on one of the many boxes, idly watching as Mr. Jensen went through file after file. Both were bored, hungry, tired, and irritable. Obviously, not a good combination.

Harry, being bored, sighed and let his eyes wonder around the small storage room. Unfortunately for his sister, they landed on her hand, which was resting slightly in between and to the side of them. His stomach gave a growl of hunger and he gave a mischievous grin as he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth.

Harry supposed Cristina had been too tired to really care when he had first grabbed her hand, but when he bit it she irritably yanked it away and flung it around blindly, once again hitting his already purpling eye.

"Ow!" Harry scowled and threw his head back, butting the back of hers.

"Gah!"

Both turned and glared at each other, Harry gingerly holding his eye; Cristina caressing her hand.

"You hit me in eye!"

"Maybe it was because you bit me!"

Harry gasped and scrunched up his nose. "I did no such thing."

"I can still see the bite marks!" She shoved her hand into his face.

The teen looked intently at it, then scoffed. "That could have came from anywhere."

"How many things just bite me on the hand?"

He fought the smirk threatening to overcome his face, "I can't keep track of everything that puts its mouth on you."

The young woman glared, then quickly stood, the shift in weight causing Harry to fall into the box.

"Ah!" He lifted his hand that had fallen beneath him and pointed it accusingly at this sister. "You made me get a paper cut."

Cristina sneered at him, but moved forward and pushed him out. Once he was steadily on his feet he turned and reached for the envelope that wore a drop of his blood. He slowly frowned as he read it.

"This is like the letter that was given to you, Cristina."

She moved over to see, and sure enough, except for the address, it was the same.

"Excuse me!" She called over to the old man. He looked up blankly as if he forgot they were there, then hobbled over to them. "When did this letter arrive?"

He took the paper from Harry and peered at it, before shaking his head sadly. "Oh, yes. This arrived a few years ago I believe. Mr. Potter was already gone by then, of course."

"...Where did he go?"

"Umm, ran away about a year after he arrived, possibly two years old," he nodded. "Yes... even picked the lock on this door and took his file with him."

Harry glanced to the door and looked back as if expected the punch line to a joke. "You think a toddler picked the lock of that door, located his file, stole it, then ran away."

"Why yes, he was here one day, then him and all his belongings and his file gone the next."

"Are you sure you didn't, I don't know...lose his file and maybe he was adopted which is why he's gone."

Mr. Jensen pushed his glasses up and glared sternly at the teen. "Now look here Mr. Thomas, I may occasionally forget what day of the week it is, but I know how to run this hospital! Now if this disrespect is going to continue I must ask you and your mother to leave!"

Brother and sister shared a look, then quickly strode out of the room.

"That man is a bloody idiot!"

"Cristina-"

"No! You can't make everything light-hearted by cracking some joke right now, Harry! This is serious!"

"Alright, but Cristina-" He tightened his seat belt and warily watched his sister drive.

"Not now, Harry! And what kind of stupid arse person would believe two-year old kid could run away?"

"Calm down!"

Her mouth closed with an audible snap and she stared at him.

"Look at the road!"

"I am, I am." She turned back, her turns still a bit too sharp, but visibly calmer. "I just can't believe someone could disregarded something that important to your life like that. How are you not mad?"

He shrugged, "I am mad, but would we even have known if that letter hadn't come? Or if dad hadn't locked the house up? It can't be that important."

"He lost the record that your alive. What if your family tried to find you?"

"You are my sister. Dad-obviously- is my father. Mum was my mother. All of you are my family. The people who-if the letter is correct-willingly gave me up are not. I don't hate them or anything, but there of no concern for me."

Cristina rewarded him with a small smile. Harry grinned back and finally relaxed, putting his head against the window. It didn't really matter, anyway, right? So he most likely was this Harry Potter...who cares? That letter had to be a load of shite, a joke, perhaps. Witchcraft and Wizardry...

He scoffed and began picking at the leather seat. Nothing extraordinary ever happened to him. Maybe the occasional lucky moment...gust of wind out of nowhere, his football miraculously curving through the air to make a goal, cards changing their appearance completely so he could win a game of poker...The young man sat up straighter and shook his head. Those had to be flukes...but there was that time that that prat, John's, shoes erupted into flames just after he took them off...no, there has to be a logical explanation for that. Friction?

'Wait, what is friction, again? Something to do with volcanoes? Maybe, space? Ugh, I should pay more attention science; I'm going to end of living on the streets if I don't get better grades. I'd be all smelly and gross... I could always go to Cristina's for showers though, she has that flowery smelling shampoo...'

"I'd be the best smelly hobo in London," Harry sighed.

His sister frowned and eyed him, before shaking her head and turning away. "Congratulations."

Early the next morning the siblings were sprawled out in Cristina's living room, watching the television. Harry had finally gotten out of his football uniform and had simply changed into his pajama bottoms, falling asleep as soon as they had arrived back the last night with Cristina doing likewise. Because of this both had awoken earlier than should have been legal.

With Cristina having no idea when Starbucks opened and Harry not knowing what time McDonald's served breakfast, both collapsed in the living room onto the soft couches. Well, they both had been on the couch until Harry had been shooed off like a dog for eating grapes while sitting on the white material. Of course he considered that stupid because the carpet was also white and grapes weren't even messy, anyway. But, he didn't hold grudges, so, you know, whatever.

"Don't you dare throw that grape at me, Harry!"

Harry quickly moved his hand from the suspicious position and popped the fruit into his mouth. He quickly ate it, scrunched up his nose at the sourness, then put in another one, repeating the process. "So when is Dad supposed to get back?"

Cristina looked out the window, dully noticing the soft glow of the street lights. "The second of September."

"Shouldn't we call him or something?"

She shrugged, "And tell him what? 'Hey Daddy, do you know if Harry is a wizard? Some strange man in a dress seems to think so.' There's not really any point in scaring him."

Harry opened his mouth as if to argue, but slowly shut it and shrugged. He brought a pack of ice onto his black eye, which had repeatably been violated the previous day, and continued to eat his grapes.

"So what do we do if someone comes by like it says in the letter?"

"We don't open the door."

"Ah, simple," he threw a grape into the air and caught it in his mouth. "I like it."

Hours later, this plan proved to be a bit too simple to actually work. The two stood in the entry hall, a pair of green eyes locked onto the door, a pair of blue onto the chandelier in the connecting room. Both of which were shaking from a thunderous pounding.

"Maybe we should open the door," Cristina whispered, wearily eying the beautiful decoration.

"You go on, then," Harry answered back, taking a cautious step away from it.

"Where is your courage!" She snapped.

"Hiding behind my fear..."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"I don't care!" Harry hissed back. Another round of knocks came, causing the door to rattle and the chandelier to sway dangerously.

Cristina moved behind her brother, "The door is for you, Harry. Answer it!"

He moved further behind her, "This is your home! Answer your door!"

She moved behind him, "Don't you have any macho protective feelings right now!"

"You're the older sibling, here!" Harry made to move again only to see that Cristina was already pressed up against the wall. He glared as she pointed to the door. "Damn!"

He took a few steps forward, watching the door as if it would explode any second.

BOOM!

Which is exactly what it did.

"Shit!" Harry blocked his face with his hands as he moved back and to the side, instantly blocking his sister. He felt a few pricks on his hands and exposed skin and a particularly vicious sting on his eyebrow that he hadn't managed to cover. The remains of the door stopped flying as quickly as they started and Harry felt himself being turned around.

"Oh, God! Harry! I'm so sorry! I didn't know the door was going to explode! I should have gone to answer it! I didn't know! I'm so sorry-are you alright?"

Harry was cut off by answering by a voice and the smell of stale whiskey.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you'd been there."

Harry whipped around, fully prepared to tackle who ever had spoken only to meet someone's chest.

"Holy-"

"Ello there Harry!"

Harry blinked stupidly at the chest in front of him, then slowly looked up past a huge black beard to meet a pair of beady black eyes. "What did you say?"

"Er, ello?"

"You mean, hello?" Harry asked flatly.

"Yeah, that there is what I say, Harry."

"You blow up my door, endanger me and my sister, and all you can say is 'hello there Harry'?"

"Er..."

Maybe it was shock, maybe a piece of wood had somehow gone through his ear and got stuck in his brain, or maybe years of footballs hitting his head had finally gotten to him, but for some reason Harry found himself so angry he didn't care that he was picking a fight with a man who could barely fit himself through the front door.

"'Er?' Oh! Of course! 'Er' explains everything! I mean normally I'd be mad that someone just broke into my home, but when you put it that way I completely understand. How could I be so stupid! 'Er'. It's so obvious."

Instead of blowing up as would have been expected, the huge man blushed and shuffled from foot to foot sheepishly. "Well no one was answerin', and I jus though..."

"You thought! Well there's the root of your problem right there! Normal people will think and come to the conclusion that we aren't home! Maybe then they would leave a note or if desperate wait outside until we come back. They wouldn't blow up the door and just waltz in!"

"Well I though that yeh were bein' 'eld against yer will..."

Harry whipped around and pointed at Cristina who was staring, bewildered, back at the two.

"That girl is the only other person here. She's twenty years old, and I doubt she weighs more than a damn stone."

"Hey!"

"Not now, Cristina." He turned back to the giant man. "How do you suppose she could have kept me against my will? Please, enlighten me so that I can be prepared in the future."

"Well I jus'... I jus'...," the man sniffled and Harry groaned as he saw the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Look, don't cry-"

"I'm jus' so sorry, Harry! I knew tha Professor Dumbledore shouldn't a sent me. I mess ev'rything up!"

"Harry!" Cristina hissed. He turned from the blabbering man and looked helplessly at his sister.

"I don't think I have flood insurance!"

"You don't have flood insurance?"

"We're on the fifth floor! Make him stop crying!"

Harry turned back and slowly reached up pat the man on the shoulder. "Hey, there," he cooed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you, we can buy another door. I was just scared because you almost hurt my sister."

"I-I- I hurt the little lassie!" He burst into another set of tears.

Harry almost jumped back to avoid the falling drops of water, but instead held his ground. "You didn't hurt her, she's perfectly fine," he pointed to her. "No harm done."

"But-but I hurt yeh."

He nearly winced as he remembered the various nicks on his arm and the cut he was sure was above his eye. "Oh, those? ...Those were, uh...those were there before."

The man's sniffling slowed as he looked down to the teenager. "Really?"

"Um, yeah. Football practice, happens all the time."

He nodded and gave a shaky smile. "Oh, that's good. Is that where ya got tha' black eye, too?"

That he actually did get from the twenty year old girl who he doubted weighed more than a stone along with a pair of little girls with a jump rope. Not that he'd admit it. "Rugby game, actually."

"Ah! Rough and tumble kind of guy, eh? You'll be a hell of a Quidditch player."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Not a problem, Harry!

"Right...now who are you?"

"Oh, how could I forget?" He held out a meaty paw. "I'm Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds at Hogwarts."