Liam Frankson dropped his briefcase immediately upon entering Number 10. With a weary sigh he shrugged off his suit jacket and toed off his shoes, pushing them into the haphazard pile of shoes next to the door. Hanging up his coat and suit jacket, he began to loosen his tie as he shuffled further into the house.

"Dad!" two shouts greeted him at the doorway of the living room as Victor and Vicky jumped up from where they were doing homework at the coffee table to hug him.

"Guess what?" Vicky cried, bouncing on her toes.

"What?" Liam repeated. "Did we win the lottery?"

"No!" Victor cried with a giggle. "We got a letter!"

"A letter?" Liam questioned. "You two got mail?"

"No!" the two cried. "You and Mum did."

"Oh. Well, that's not any different from any other day now is it?"

"It's from Harry!" Vicky all but shouted. Liam's mind nearly froze as he processed his daughter's words. Harry? Harry had written them? They had not heard from the boy since the strange but rather unsettling call from London in August.

"Mum's got it in the kitchen," Victor said, pulling away from Liam. "She won't let us read it until you and she does."

Liam ruffled his sons hair and headed straight for the kitchen. Mel was stirring a large soup pot on the stove, her hip cocked out in the way it did whenever she was anxious. She looked over at him when he entered and relief filled her face.

"I'm glad you're home," she said.

"Surprised you didn't hear our littlest heathens screaming," Liam replied, kissing her. "They said Harry sent us a letter?"

"Yes, but it's quite strange. I assumed he'd be sending us a letter from Scotland, but it's postmarked Cokeworth."

"Cokeworth?" Liam tried to think if he had ever heard of that town before. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Gloria Keetering's main shop is in Cokeworth. It's where she started out."

"Oh yes . . . you wanted a new frock from the new Christmas catalog."

"Yes, it would look perfect at the company dinner and Petunia Dursley doesn't wear Keetering. Doubt it's in their budget."

Liam shook his head at his wife's antics. While he was glad that she no longer took so much time thinking about impressing the snobbish Dursleys, the competitiveness in her was still there and it still came out. Especially now that they had practically adopted Petunia's nephew.

He picked up the sealed envelope from the table. It was postmarked from Cokeworth. If he remembered correctly that was somewhere up in the West Country near Liverpool or something like that.

The return address seemed to be a normal house address too, not one Liam would have ever associated with a boarding school. Both he and Mel had gone to Sevenoaks and the address had not looked like this.

As he opened the letter, Mel put the spatula down to read over his shoulder.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Frankson,

I'm sorry that it's taken me a long time to contact you since summer. I've been busy with friends and getting to school. I hope you don't mind that I'm writing you, but I didn't know who else to talk to.

"Oh, he's writing to us!" Mel squealed, hugging Liam tightly. "I hope everything's all right."

Over the summer while I was staying with friends, I found out that one of the men responsible for my parents' deaths escaped prison and is now trying to come after me. You might've heard about him on the Mug news. Sirius Black?

"That's the All Saint's Bomber," Liam cried. "That was a high-profile terrorist attack."

"I remember," Mel murmured. "You were in London that day. Only a few blocks over from it. We had just moved into this house, remember? Jason was so little."

Anyway, he's coming after me. That's part of the issue. The other issue, and the real reason I'm writing you, is because I got in trouble at school. And I get why I got in trouble, I do! I'm just so mad about it. It's not fair! It's not my fault I've got a mass murderer coming after me.

So there's this little village that's near my boarding school. Now that I'm a third year, I can go down into the village on designated weekends with friends. Or at least, I could. There was a permission slip that my relatives were supposed to sign, but since I left before my school letter arrived, it didn't get signed. So, I forged my aunt's signature.

Mel burst out laughing. Liam too tried not to chuckle too hard at hearing of the typical teenage behavior.

The thing is, my Head of House (that's what we call our dormitory groups), caught the forgery. He wouldn't have, except that he checked up on me this summer to make sure I was taking precautions and stuff because of Black. So, he knew that there was no way Aunt Petunia signed my permission slip. So, I got detention because I technically snuck down to the village, and I got detention because I forged my aunt's signature. My detentions have been between my Head of House, my Defense professor, and the headmaster. Each one had decided that I need to hear the exact same lecture. How it was irresponsible to forge my aunt's signature and sneak down to Hogs the village. How I was putting my friends in danger, what would my parents think of me being so careless? Do I want to throw their sacrifice away by not being vigilant?

It's just so unfair! I didn't ask to have a mass murderer come after me. I didn't ask for my parents to be killed. I don't know what they would think about me sneaking down to Hogsme the village, I never knew them! They're dead! And I think it's pretty hypocritical because no one ever cared about my safety but after ten years? I'm in school and suddenly everyone cares? Where are they in the summer when I get locked out of the house? When Uncle Vernon's screaming at me for not doing my chores right? No one's ever seemed to care about me before, and I made it this far, so I think it's stupid that no one believes me when I say I can take care of myself.

Sorry for the rant. I'm just frustrated. I hope you don't mind that I spent most the letter ranting.

How are you doing? Are Vicky and Victor enjoying school? Has Vicky gotten to hold anymore snakes? How's Jason's soccer club doing?

If you need to write back, just use the return address that's on the envelope. It's the home of one of my classmates. The security at school is weird do it's just easier if you write your letter to me and send it to another classmate and they'll send it along. No one ever writes to me, so the school would get suspicious and with Sirius Black running about I'm not sure how they'd react to me suddenly getting mail.

Yours truly,

Harry

Mel let out a deep breath.

"Wow," she murmured. "That's a lot to take in. What exactly did the Potters do again? Do you know?"

Liam shook his head.

"I think I remember Petunia saying once that her sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident," he said.

"Yeah . . . I'm trying to remember . . . I believe Harry's mentioned the name of his school. Hodgkin's Preparatory School for the Gifted. One of his friends visited last summer, I remember. That's how we found out that the Dursleys had been lying about sending Harry to St. Brutus'. I'm trying to remember . . . she mentioned Harry had gotten in because of family connections. And I feel like Harry's mentioned in passing that his parents were alumni of his school."

"Well, it's clear that his parents did not die in a car accident if they were somehow involved with the All Saint's Day Bomber," Liam stated. "Security at that school must be tight if Harry's making us go through this strange mailing system."

"I feel so bad for him," Mel murmured, turning back to the soup. "It must be hard for him to suddenly have adults looking out for his best interest. I can imagine it would seem stifling. He is independent, and he has managed to take care of himself for so long . . . but he doesn't have a problem with us."

"We don't have to discipline him," Liam pointed out, setting the letter aside. "I'm sure he would be just as frustrated if we had to discipline him."

"Still, we should tell him to be careful and not do anything foolish," Mel answered. "I've really come to care for the boy. I almost wish he were our nephew."

"He'd certainly be a better nephew than Carlton."

Mel glared at Liam playfully over her shoulder. Her nephew was just a little older than Jason and was happily living a punk rock lifestyle that had most of the family in fits. Jason and the twins thought their cousin was the coolest person ever.

"Let's write to him tonight," Liam suggested. "Maybe the twins or Jason will want to send their own little note to him."

Harry sulked at the Slytherin table. He had one last day of detention, this one with Headmaster Dumbledore. He would rather wash cauldrons in Snape's classroom than have another detention with Dumbledore. Dumbledore had him sitting for hours copying the most boring passages out of old books written in English older than Dumbledore! He would even do lines with Remus if it meant he did not have to sit for hours in the headmaster's office with the man occasionally staring at him over those half-moon spectacles with a look that Harry could not place.

"Your face is gonna get stuck in that position," Aria said as she served herself. Tonight's dinner menu consisted of roasted chicken and a variety of roasted vegetables. Harry watched her load up her plate with chicken, asparagus, and mashed potatoes.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked.

"I'm not hungry."

"Listen, I get you're still pissed about detention and all that, but you've been skipping meals all week. Stop it!" She made up a plate of chicken, broccoli, and roasted potatoes, setting it rather forcefully in front of him.

"Better eat, Potter," Blaise muttered from across the table. "When an angry woman tells you to eat, you eat."

"It's your last detention," Aria continued, ignoring Blaise. "Just one more and it's all behind you."

Harry sighed and picked at his food, managing to get half of it into his stomach before feeling sick. He had been feeling sick ever since he had been caught. He did not know why he felt sick. The only things he did know was that he was angry and embarrassed. Angry that he was stuck with guardians who did not care about him, and therefore had put him in this situation in the first place; angry that his professors kept bringing up his parents and how irresponsible he had been; and embarrassed that it had all happened in front of his friends.

A small part of him also whispered that he was embarrassed and angry at himself because he had disappointed Professor Snape and Remus, but he shoved that down to be drowned out by the anger he felt at the situation itself. He was independent, he had taken care of himself for years! Who were these adults to just waltz in and lecture him about taking care of himself? Especially Dumbledore! That lecture had been the worst. It had taken all of Harry's self-control not to rage and scream at the man. He was the one who forced Harry to stay at the Dursleys in the first place, who was he to pretend that he was worried on Harry's behalf?

After dinner, Harry dragged himself to Dumbledore's office. The man had already set out the parchment, ink, and book Harry would be copying from tonight. Fawkes was not on his usual perch and Harry wondered briefly if he was out hunting.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore greeted, only looking up briefly from the papers on his desk.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Harry replied, clearly. He had gotten a lecture the first time about speaking clearly to those in authority. He settled at the desk and flipped to the bookmarked section in the dusty tome.

For two hours the only sound in the office was the scratching of quills, the shuffling of parchment, and the occasional shuffle of the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. Some of the frames were empty, implying that its occupant was out on a walk. Others had sleeping people and in one frame, there seemed to be a card game going on.

The sharp scraping of a chair caught Harry's attention. Dumbledore stood from his desk.

"I think it's time we break for some tea," the man said. That was new. The headmaster had not offered him tea the other two nights of detention he had covered. "There is a spectacular view of the Black Lake at night from the observation balcony. Let us go there."

Something in Harry's stomach clenched painfully until he felt like he was going to throw up. His head began to beat wildly, and his palms began to sweat. Every single one of his senses was telling him to turn tail and run.

"Am I done with detention, Headmaster?" Harry asked, hoping that maybe the man would dismiss him.

"Almost," the man replied, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "Let's have some tea together."

The Slytherin common room was full. It seemed everyone had finished their homework or was just ignoring it in favor of the fact that it was Friday night, and they had the weekend to complete any assignments. Harry stood in the shadows of the entrance, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin swinging shut behind him. He knew that the common room should be loud. A group of fifth years was playing Exploding Snap. He could see the sparks from the cards as they exploded, he could see his housemates laughing, but the sound was slow and low and there was a ringing in his ears.

"Harry!"

Aria appeared in front of him, a grin stretching across her face. "Glad you're back! Hedwig came back with my letter from Dad. This came with it." She handed Harry a Muggle envelope with Harry's name written in Mrs. Frankson's neat cursive.

As Aria hurried off to join Daphne and Tracey in playing Exploding Snap against the fifth years, Harry wandered up to his dormitory, barely remembering to take off his shoes before climbing onto the bed. He lay down, ripping the letter open.

Dear Harry,

It was so good to hear from you! The family is fine, the twins have joined an after-school art club at the community center, so they've painted you some pictures to "spruce up" your dormitory.

Harry paused to pull out these pictures. Both were in watercolor. Victor had painted some mountains at sunset and Vicky had painted flowers in long grass with snakes.

We're a little horrified to hear about your connection to Sirius Black. We both remember the day he bombed the street. Liam was only a few streets over when the bomb went off. We had just moved into Number 10 and he was starting his new job. We're so sorry that Black is the reason your parents are gone. Neither of us can imagine what it must have been like growing up believing your parents died one way, only to find out it was a lie and that they were murdered! And now their murderer is coming after you? We can't imagine how frightened you must be feeling.

Harry snorted. He wasn't frightened!

That being said, it's clear in your letter that you're feeling a lot of frustration and anger. A lot of it is probably justified. You're level-headed, independent, and self-sufficient, so it's probably jarring to suddenly have so many adults telling you what you can and can't do. But, Harry, that's all normal. What your teachers are doing is completely normal. Most of the kids at your school probably aren't as independent or self-sufficient or resourceful like you. A lot of those kids need those extra and stricter rules because they haven't had to "grow up" so quickly like you.

We're glad that you've got teachers looking out for you who are willing to take you to task when you break the rules, especially in big ways. And forging a relative's signature to gain access to an off-campus location is pretty significant. Even without a mass murderer stalking you. Your teachers are treating you like a normal kid by taking you to task for what you did. We hope you learn from this and understand that people care about you and just want what's best for you. They want to keep you safe. We're glad about that.

Please know that you can write to us anytime. You can complain and rant all you want, but we also wouldn't mind just getting regular updates from you. How are classes? Sports? What other extra curriculars are you doing? Who are your friends?

We miss you. Hope you stay safe and please don't go looking for trouble.

Lots of love,

Liam and Mel

P.S. You can call us Liam and Mel if you like.

Harry quickly pulled his bed curtains close as tears streamed down his face, fogging up his glasses. He clutched the Franksons' letter to his chest as he curled his knees up to his chest, the twins' paintings beside him. Why couldn't the Franksons have been his relatives? Why did they have to be so far away? How he wished they knew about magic! He wanted to tell them everything. If this were the Muggle world, they would be able to help him, he just knew it. But, this was not the Muggle world and there was no one to help him.