Edited 3/5/24 for spelling and grammar mistakes caused by my messed-up phone and hasty writing.

"Boy!!!"

"Yelled Uncle Vernon from outside his door. He heard heavy feet gollump down the stairs as his uncle left. Years of being addressed thusly left Harry with little doubt that it was he who was being summoned."

"Coming!!!"

Harry yelled back quickly, hauling himself out of his bed and quickly remaking it with practiced ease. He debated going through his morning routine, but one look at the alarm clock (7:04) ended that thought. If his uncle had woken him up that early (especially after yesterday), then whatever they wanted would be actually important. So, he left his room and made his way down to the sitting room, waiting for his relatives to address him. (Years of indoctrination are hard to beat: "Don't ask questions!")

His aunt was the one who addressed him first.

"I want you to go back upstairs and get ready. We're driving into London and I want you to wear your school uniform." She seemed to stutter and lose heart for a second before finishing her sentence.

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions! Go!" was his aunt's only reply. He was almost back to the steps when his uncle called out, "And be sure to brush your foul hair!"

It was close to 30 minutes later that Harry and the Dursleys set out in Vernon's company car. "Now, boy," his uncle called, "I'll be dropping you and your aunt off while I go and pick up Dudley. I want to hear about no... no funny business from your aunt when I get back."

"yes, uncle."

An hour, an hour and a half of silence. How his relatives could sit silently in a car for that long would always astound Harry. After all, it was him they didn't like, not each other. But a little over an hour and a half later, he and his aunt were dropped off in a nondescript back alley of London's business district.

He silently followed his aunt as she walked and appeared to be following a map. "Ah!" she said with an almost satisfied voice. "Here we are, I think." It was an old, half-destroyed, and heavily graffitied phone box. The phone inside was hanging half off its stand.

"I think it's broken." harry said hesitantly cooking an eyebrow.

"...yyyeees. I think that's as it should be." She made to read something in the small pamphlet she was holding.

"This is, I believe, the 'visitors'' entrance to your ministry. It wasn't like this when we..." Aunt Petunia sighed, losing heart in her sentence again. "It was a different entrance, or we used a different entrance when my parents had to bring Lily here for some test when we were sixteen or so."

She approached the broken phone stand and gestured for him to come next to her. Then, she closed the door. It was a very tight fit. Next, Petunia placed her hand on the dial and turned a certain number, waiting as the rotary clicked back into place each time. It was then that a disembodied voice called out, seeming to come from every inch of the box.

An emotionless, cool female voice saying,

"What is your name and what is your business today?"

"Petunia Dursley and Harry Potter, we have an appointment at the Muggle Liaison and Child Welfare Office." This news caused Harry to look at his aunt and raise his eyebrows. She simply shook her head at him. "Yes, I know, I know." (Don't ask questions.)

A ringing sound came from the remains of the payphone, and two badges dropped into Petunia's hand. She looked at both of them and sniffed in disapproval before handing Harry the one with his name on it. Upon further inspection, his badge read "Harry Potter—Multi-Appointment." It was then that Harry noticed the phone box was lowering into the ground. The lift rattled steadily downward. All the questions he wanted to ask died in his throat. Not wanting to spook his aunt away from whatever she was doing (she was visibly shaking), he remained silent.

Harry reached out and placed a comforting hand on her arm, one of the rare moments when he remembered that they were actually family. The voice called out again as they neared the enormous atrium that had appeared in front of them. "Visitors to the Ministry are required to surrender their wands for inspection at the security kiosk before proceeding into the Ministry."

His aunt seemed confused by that, so he held out his wand and pointed to a gold security desk with a bored-looking man reading a magazine.

Even at this hour, the atrium appeared nearly deserted, with only a few people coming and going. It was clear that most of the ministry staff were in their offices.

As they approached the security desk, the man put his magazine down. "Name? And wand, please," the man said. "Petunia Dursley. I don't have a wand. I'm not magical," his aunt replied briskly.

"Harry Potter. Here's my wand, sir."

The man looked quickly at Harry's face, then flicked his eyes to his scar and stared quite obviously. "Er... sir, my wand," Harry reminded him gently. "Right you are, sir. I apologize."

He quickly scanned his wand, skewered the results, and passed Harry back his wand.

"is there a map or directory?" asked his aunt

"Oh, yes, here." He hands her another pamphlet.

After studying it for a moment, she gestured for Harry to follow her and set off. In seemingly no time at all, they arrived at a set of double doors labeled "Muggle Liaison Office." They both stepped through.

Once through the doors, a cheerful receptionist greeted them.

Oh, you must be our 11:30? Petunia Dursley?

She nods her head. "Yes, who am I meeting?" Petunia asks. "Well, it'll be two people. I believe Mr. Abbot, whom I believe you've met, and because of the sensitive nature of the inquiries, the director herself, Elizabeth Macavoy. It's a little early, but we're never really busy. You head on back, and I'll let them know to expect you."

The two walked down the hall in the direction indicated by the receptionist and found themselves in front of a door marked "Director." After knocking and receiving a reply, they entered.

The office itself was rather small and very warm, decorated in light browns and bright reds. The decorations made it appear more open and larger than it actually was. The director, a youngish (mid-thirties) woman with medium-length, apple-red hair and a gray pantsuit, sat at her desk with Mr. Abbott to the side. Harry recognized him immediately—a girl from his class was his spitting image: blonde hair, round face, large, almond-shaped blue eyes, definitely in her early 30s. The two at the desk welcomed them, and they all sat down.

"Well, Mrs. Dursley, how can my department assist you?" the director asked, glancing over at Harry.

"Err... yes... well, I can see you know who this is?" Petunia said hesitantly.

"Yes, and I was going through the files trying to find yours or his file, and interestingly enough, there isn't a single instance of interaction between the Ministry and your family until yesterday when the incident involving your ward's familiar occurred. This is not only a rare occurrence, it's impossible. One of my people and an agent from Child Welfare Services should have been by yearly to do a check on him since you never adopted him. And I assume this isn't about a possible adoption..." Petunia shook her head, and Director Macavoy continued, "Then I am rather confused as to what my department is being asked of, Mrs. Dursley?"

Petunia cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I was hoping this department could point Harry here toward legal counsel—counsel that focuses on emancipation."

Sorry, I couldn't resist a cliffhanger there. I don't want my chapters to be outrageously long, and that seemed like a great place to end this one.

Okay, here's another one for today. I've had several followers, so there are people interested enough, and I had enough free time to write this. I don't have nor will I have a set writing or posting schedule.

Keep liking, following, and commenting. It gives me the motivation to continue exploring my creative side.