Disclaimer: While fear of a name is silly and stupid, fear of a psychopathic dark lord is just common sense.
Gimme Shelter
It hadn't taken long to find the 'boy-who-lived', not with his connections anyway. Dumbledore's assurances aside, he needed to know for himself that the boy was safe, he owed the Potter family that much.
The man stopped at the edge of the wards and gave them a professional once over. They were fairly good considering that they'd been done by a rank amateur, better than most wizards had around their homes, but not even close to what he considered adequate. It took ten more nights of warding work before he was ready to relax and further his investigation.
Almost everything about the child's living arrangements was unacceptable. The food he was given wasn't high calorie enough to nourish a growing wizard, the environment he lived in was not clean enough, and to top it all off there was a depressing lack of appropriate reading material.
The only bright spots were the boy's room and his relative's attitude, which were sure to encourage magical outbursts, though it had appeared that Dumbledore had forgotten to cast the required enchantments over the cupboard.
He smiled. Many a young wizard chose a small space as his own. The enchantments fed on the occupants' power, the more power a young wizard possessed, the more impressive his living space. He himself had turned a cloak room into a five floor mansion. Few things impressed a young witch more than a large . . . amount of space. Shaking himself free of the fond memories from his past, he set about planning how to rectify what he saw as the inexcusable hindrances to the boy's healthy development.
A quick shopping trip netted a house elf, a dozen portraits to serve as tutors, and enough books to last the boy until he reached Hogwarts. Two more weeks of warding ensured the boy's safety and the wizard considered the interest on his debt to the Potter family paid for at least the next few years. Making a mental note to send the boy the occasional load of books, materials, and sweets, the wizard disappeared.
The Dursley house, ten years later:
Vernon didn't bother to look up from his newspaper when he heard the mail slot open. "Go get the mail, son," he commanded.
"Right, dad," Dudley agreed. The big boned boy rose from his chair and dashed into the other room. "DAD!"
"What's wrong, Dudley?" Vernon asked, noting the hint of panic in his son's voice.
"HE has a letter!" Dudley squeaked.
Vernon dropped his paper and went to join his son. "Give it to me and wait in your room," Vernon ordered. The tubby man locked eyes with his wife. They'd known this day was coming.
"What should we do, Vernon?" Petunia asked.
"Give it to him, I suppose," Vernon replied as calmly as he could. "No telling what would happen to us if we didn't." He closed his eyes. "Go wait with Dudley, no sense both of us having to do this."
"You're my husband," Petunia said stubbornly.
"Just stay behind me, Pet," Vernon said softly.
The large man walked up to the bookshelf they'd put by the staircase to block the cupboard door and began removing books until he'd had enough off that he could move the heavy piece of furniture.
He stared at the newly revealed cupboard door for a few moments before raising a fist and giving it three sharp raps, reminding himself that for all the boy's unaturalness, he rarely directed any of it towards them... unless upset or pushed anyway. It had taken a few years, but each of the Dursleys had accepted the fact that it would be best to never do anything that could be considered provocative to their fourth resident, it had taken several painful lessons but the point had been driven home.
"You is knocking?" the creature that answered the door was about three feet tall, had large ears, and skin the color of hangover vomit.
"Boy got a letter," Vernon explained, inordinately proud of the fact that his voice didn't crack and that his hand was steady as he handed over the envelope, desperately trying to ignore the sight of an entry hall into what appeared to be a mansion or the glimpse of a lawn the size of a football field, just visible through the large picture windows.
The creature took the envelope from the man's hands and examined it. "Harry Potter sir will be pleased to gets his letter," it announced.
"Good, that's all," Vernon blurted. He let out a long sigh when the door slammed shut. It was a rare occasion that they Dursley family had anything to do with their border.
IIIIIIIIII
The house elf found her master in the east garden next to the koi pond. The boy was engrossed in reading a large book, the table by his side held a glass ink pen and a large stack of parchment covered in notes.
"Mail, Master," the elf squeaked.
"Thank you, Dotty," Harry said, turning his attention away from the book and to the envelope. After a quick scan of the letter, the boy picked up his glass pen and dipped it in ink. "Fresh sheet of parchment, please."
"Yes, master." A snap of the house elf's fingers caused a blank sheet to appear.
Harry jotted down a quick note, waved the pen causing the ink to dry, folded the parchment, and handed it to his elf. "Seal it and deliver that to the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, please."
"Yes, master."
IIIIIIIIII
Minerva was in her office when the strange house elf arrived. The fact that the creature was wearing a towel like a toga was a big clue she didn't belong to Hogwarts' coterie.
"Master Harry's letter, Professy ma'am," the house elf announced.
"Harry who?" The woman's eyebrows knit together as she mentally went over the list of incoming students. The only Harry she could remember had been placed with a muggle family.
"Potter, Professy ma'am," the house elf squeaked.
Which begged the question, how had he gotten access to an elf to deliver his mail?
"Alright, inform your master that I have accepted receipt of his acceptance and present him with this." She plucked a sheet of parchment off her table and hurriedly wrote down a list of times she would be free to show a new student around Diagon. "Please ask him to send a reply as promptly as possible. If none of the times on that list are convenient, tell him to write a list of times that are convenient to him and I will arrange things with another professor."
"Dotty wills be doing that, Presessy ma'am." The elf nodded its head frantically before disappearing as noiselessly as it had arrived.
Two days later, the Deputy Headmistress was standing in front of house number four. It looked the same, the thought to herself as she inspected it for outward signs that it housed a magical. A more detailed search for signs of magical occupation revealed . . . nothing. With a sigh, the woman marched up to the front door and gave it a sharp rap with her knuckles. She didn't have long to wait before the door was answered by a woman she recognized to be Lily Potter's sister.
"You." The woman looked like she'd just bitten a lemon. "Come in." She stepped aside, reasoning that it was better to have the freak off her doorstep where she could be seen by the neighbors even if it ment letting her in the house.
"I have come to get young Mr. Potter," Minerva stated calmly as she walked into the house. Of the boy-who-lived, there wasn't so much as a photograph, noted a corner of her mind. "Where might he be?"
"The door to his cupboard is behind the bookshelf," Petunia waved at the item snugged up against the side of the staircase. "Be good enough to see yourselves out." With none of the usual pleasantries, the lady of the house turned her back and retreated into the kitchen. "Quickly if you please," she stated without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
It was only the memory of the house elf that stayed the Deputy Headmistress's hand. Best investigate things before doing something irrecoverable, she decided.
A flick of her wand removed the bookshelf and knock on the half sized door that the woman had revealed to be the entrance to young Harry's quarters summoned young Mr. Potter's house elf.
"You have come, Professy ma'am," the house elf squeaked, stepping aside to permit the woman's entrance. "Master Harry is expecting you.
Minerva ducked into the cupboard under the stairs and immediately felt guilty for doubting Albus when she found herself in the largest folded space she'd ever encountered. She should have known the Headmaster would come back and set things up. The old woman shook her head, boy would be mobbed by witches if it ever became publicly known how powerful he was. The phrase 'strong wizards produce strong children' was one every mother taught her daughters after all. Wizards tended to give their sons less practical advice to help them pick a bride. Minerva's husband had told her that his father had advised him to find a girl with; nice tits, elves that can cook, and an ass you could bounce a galleon off. The old woman smirked, the fact that the advice sounded silly hadn't prevented him from following it.
The Head of Gryffindor was pulled from her thoughts by a tug on her robes. "This way, Prefessy Mistress ma'am," the house elf insisted.
AN: This has been sitting half written on my HD for a long time. A very long time.
Scenes/Polish/Beta by dogbertcarroll
Continuity error noted by hamm_on_wry
Small Omake:
"Where are you going, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Home," Harry replied. "Why stay here when I can have a kip in my own bed?"
"Um . . ."
"There's a station in one of the subbasements that connects to the London Tube which connects to a station in my house," Harry explained. "Straight shot home in under an hour using my private line."
"Oh . . . why did we take the train if the tube's so much faster?" the girl asked as she trailed behind her new friend.
"I think it's cause of tradition or some other thing like that," he replied.
Harry has a tube station in his cupboard, it connects to another one in the basement of hogwarts (Hermione can't figure out how that works)