This right here is a story that I am writing down painstakingly in my notebook, and then typing it out here on Word. So, without further ado, let the games begin!

THE NAME'S POTTER… HARRY POTTER

CHAPTER 1

Spy Saviors And Revealing Ruminations

A well-dressed man parked his Lexus convertible in front of a very nondescript house in Surrey, England. He looked at the address on the fence.

"Number Four Privet Drive." He murmured under his breath

Peeking around the neighbourhood, he saw a couple of eyes from a few of the surrounding houses. Making them draw their curtains with a glare, he left his car. Silently, he hoped that a certain new walrus species, Vernon Dursley, was home. He so looked forward to what he was about to do to him.

For the past month, he had been secretly keeping an eye on a certain green-eyed boy residing inside the walls of the aforementioned house. Simultaneously, he managed to make a fine schedule of the people, if they could be called people, he lived with, the wizards and witches who guarded him, and the boy in question himself.

He looked around again, and satisfied with the much-reduced number of nosey eyes, he strode forward through the fence doors. He carefully walked over a tile he knew anchored monitoring wards on the house. Being a non-magical, he shouldn't trip any of the wards surrounding his target's house, nor draw undue attention from any of his guards, should they be present.

He smirked. Undue attention indeed. The worst scrutiny he would have to endure today would be from his target, or those idiotically nosey neighbours. And why was that? That was because, per the schedule he charted out, the guard for this shift never, and that means NEVER, came. That short, round idiot just pops into the backyard, walks on the attendance rune, and again disapparates, off to do god knows what.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. His thoughts led to him standing on their porch for three minutes without a sound. He walked up to the doorbell, pressed it, and waited. The calm, innocent tune of the bell almost made him give in to the illusion of normality these monsters created. But he knew these monsters, and he knew that there was no chance anybody would consider the real them innocent. He grimaced slightly when a booming, and frankly extremely intimidating voice shouted out, "BOY! GET THE DOOR!" It was the walrus.

A few seconds later, the oak door opened. A green-eyed boy, with a mop of extremely, and perpetually, messy raven-black hair, stood in front of him. He looked at him curiously.

"How may I help you sir ?" he asked. The man, still staring at the boy, was jolted out of his very vivid thoughts of tying all four villainous Dursleys to a car and letting it race in the Dakar Rally. Eh, he thought, the car would lose anyway. The four of them were too heavy for even a Hercules to carry.

"Good morning sir, I am looking for, umm," he made a show of recollecting a name, "a certain Mr. Harry Potter. Does he live here?" he asked.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry answered, incredulous.

"James Verlan, MI6. Pleased to meet you, sir!" James held out his right hand.

With an amusing widening of his eyes, Harry grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. James smiled good-naturedly. But that smile became a fierce scowl at the arrival of a third party.

"BOY! Who's at the door? Get away from here!" Vernon shouted at Harry, shoving him aside viciously. His feet created small housequakes which James assumed were not at all good for the house.

"Who are you? I have no need for anything you have to sell. NO INSURANCE NEEDED! Get away from here, idiot!" he yelled at James.

James just scowled harder. "I'll assume you are Mr. Vernon Dursley of Grunnings Drills Private Limited ?"

When Vernon replied in the affirmative, James continued, "I am James Verlan, government agent. I think you should leave the two of us alone. Do you want to know why? It's because I said so. And why should I be listened to? Well, maybe because I know that your tax statements have been… lacking, to say the least. And as a matter of fact, that's illegal. It won't be an execution, something I'd just love to see, but it would be quite a few months in jail. Add to that any confession the rest of your family will make, it would be a very taxing, pardon my pun, year for you. Moreover, there is a shit ton of evidence about matters regarding your nephew. Your taxing year will become, again, pardon my pun, quite a torturous two years for you. So, Mr. Dursley, what will be your choice? Leave the two of us alone, and not touch Harry for the rest of the summer, nor make him your slave, or a nice couple of years in a negative five-star hotel, sponsored by the nation's taxpayers. Choose, and be wise for once."

Vernon Dursley's face turned into a pseudo-rainbow, going purple to puce to red and more. He cycled through fear, anger, a lot of anger, disgust, a lot of fear and essentially even more fear, which increased several notches with every passing second.

"Being a government agent of a very high position, I can easily ramp up the charges. Scotland Yard won't question us. They learnt their lesson long ago. One word, one command, one lil' bit of leaked information, and you'll be spending time in Her Majesty's Prisons. So, either you go into your living room, or out the door for much, much longer."

Harry stood aside, rubbing a bruise on his side, while gaping at James. Here was a man he never even knew, defending him, and verbally ripping his Uncle Vernon into shreds. Harry's respect for the man just rose several notches.

"Mr. Potter, I believe the two of us have a few things to discuss. Could you meet me at the Treat's Café a bit away from here? I'll wait there for twenty minutes. If you don't arrive by then, I'll assume the worst, and in about thirty minutes, a platoon of crack SAS soldiers will descend upon this face. And they don't care about property damage." He finished, glaring at Vernon, daring him to stop Harry.

With a nod of his head, James turned and went down the path to his Lexus, and drove away a few moments later. Shaking with fear, Vernon weakly closed the door and dismissed Harry with a wave of his hand.

Harry wordlessly ran up the stairs into his room. His ears were luckily spared Aunt Petunia's horrid screech and lil' Dudder's nasal whining. Of course, that was because the two… villains… went out to buy Duddy more gifts. Entering his room, he closed the door softly and rushed to open his extremely battered blue plastic closet, and pulled out one of his few clothes suitable for outside wear. Donning them in a minute, he jogged silently down the stairs, and then out the door. He assumed Uncle Vernon was currently drowning himself in whiskey. He didn't care. It wasn't his job to keep him sober.

Now out of Durzkaban, Harry was faced with a ten-minute walk to the café. He palmed his wand stored in his pocket. While James seemed good-natured, he, being a muggle, should have no interest in the name Harry Potter. It could be a trap. All the last year's Death Eater DADA teacher taught him properly, was constant vigilance. Well, he planned to be vigilant now.

He decided to use the walk to ruminate about his life.

Dumbledore, he thought, that old coot just threw him back with the Dursleys. He didn't even think of his welfare! I saw a person DIE. I got crucioed. I duelled motherfucking VOLDEMORT, barely escaping with my life! And whatever in hell was that cage? And my parents. Did that really happen?

And couldn't he defend me from all the bad press I and Hermione received? From all the ostracizing. It would have taken just one speech. Just one mention of his innocence. Both fourth and second year. Only Ron and Hermione were at my side, even though Ron was still fearful, in Second Year. And in Fourth Year, it was only Hermione.

AND HE KNEW! THE OLD BASTARD KNEW ABOUT THE BASILISK, RIGHT WHEN HE FOUND COLIN'S CAMERA! It was on his face. AND HE DIDN'T DO SHIT!

In Third Year, Dumbledore had the power, being Headmaster, controller of Hogwarts' Wards (you can't be Hermione Granger's friend and not learn something) and the Chief Warlock. He could block the dementors, and also get Sirius a trial. At least a trial. He didn't even have that basic right. Then he wouldn't have had to go back in time, nor take up Hermione on Buckbeak.

Harry sighed. It seemed that Old Dumbles was behind all the shit that happened to him in the past four years. Well, him and old Voldieshorts. He didn't even know who he could trust.

A tiny voice niggled at his mind. "You do know who." It said. Yes, Harry decided, he did know who he could trust implicitly.

Sirius, Ron and Hermione. Sirius may have been absent for 12 whole years, but that wasn't by choice. A sudden pique of extreme immaturity, understandable because of the circumstances, was the main reason he took an extended vacation in Hotel Azkaban. Hopefully, he matured by now.

Ron was usually a jealous git. He just couldn't understand that Harry hated his fame and the spotlight just as much as Ron loved the Chudley Cannons. Normally Harry would be elated to have a shit ton of money too, but not when the money was tainted by his parents' corpses. He'd have much preferred having parents rather than money. But Ron as a person was the most loyal guy to exist. He may have abandoned Harry until the First Task, but he came back. He could be made better, and Harry would do his darnedest to see him a better man.

Hermione. She was, to say the least, Harry's actual most loyal friend. Looking back, he was appalled at how he treated her in Third Year. He was being a true stubborn git. All she did, she did for him. For his benefit. In First and Second Year, she was his second-best friend. But seeing her petrified in the infirmary let Harry know that she was much more important to him. Even after his git-ishness in Third Year, she still stood by him, defending him from Sirius (she didn't know about his innocence until a few minutes later). Fourth Year, she was an absolute godsend. She spent hours looking for ways out of the tournament, and when that didn't work, she helped him learn, gave him support, and was in general there for him.

Aaaaaand the Yule Ball. There were no words for her. She looked like an angel in her blue dress. Periwinkle Blue, he corrected himself.

It then struck Harry exactly what she meant to him. It wasn't enough to say she was his closest and truest friend. No. He loved her.

And there was no way in hell he would do anything about it.

She was already in too much danger being his friend. Getting closer to her would just elevate her status to right under Harry himself.

The status quo in order of death at least.

She was the only person he would give himself up for. And that was why it couldn't happen. He couldn't, wouldn't do that to her. Not while Voldemort was alive and hissing.

Harry didn't realize he walked past the café while deep in his thoughts. James sat inside, looking at him in amusement. He sipped his coffee and buttered up a scone.

He spied a waiter a bit away from him and called him to his table.

"What would you like to order, sir?"

"A pepperoni pizza and a plate of French fries with mayonnaise."

"Of course, sir."

"And call that boy over here please."

"That boy… him?" the waiter followed his pointing finger. "Are you a cop? What did that ruffian do now?" the waiter said, sneering at Harry.

James sighed. It seemed he would have to work faster on the boy's birthday gift. "Yes, I am a cop. And I'm here to hire said ruffian."

The waiter, dumbfounded, ran off to call Harry away from his ruminations. Errand done, he jogged back, and James handed him a crisp fifty-pound note.

"You never saw us."

"Why's empty air talking to me?" he replied with a smirk. James smirked back, and the waiter went away to get their order.

A sheepish Harry jogged in and sat down with James after spying him at his table.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Verlan?"

"A certain series of events, which kickstarted from a certain Halloween night, in a certain co-existing world."

Harry's reaction would have been amusing, if not for the wand currently stuck to James' thigh under the table.

"How do you know about it? Are you a bloody death eater?" He asked, with a venomous tone.

"I wasn't lying you know? MI6 knows everything going on in your world, or at least that's what I think. I'm not here to hurt you. We're here to help."

Look at me, writing my first full-length fic! Per the wishes of a few of my readers, I will now start posting a chapter every week. Well well well, it's time for me to say goodbye, so, Perseus, over and out!

P.S. A reviewer posted that a bit of my info is incorrect. I apologize for that. I have fixed the most glaring error, but there are some in between too, which, I am sorry, I have no time to correct. My Mathematics exam is on Monday, so, yeah, I'm a bit preoccupied.

P.P.S. Sorry diananne. Umbridge is a bit important here. But fear not, she'll meet a nice, grisly end