Scare Time or Fun Time

The Adoption

"OH MY. OH MY. VERNON. VERNON! COME QUICK!" The sound of heavy trampling could be heard from inside a small 3 bedroom house on Privet Drive number 4.

"What is this Petunia?" The heavy whafish man asked.

"My sister got blown up and this Dumbledore Character says we must keep her son. Here it is all in this letter." The couple move inside as the horse faced woman hands the letter to Vernon.

"Your freaky sister? No. I WON'T HAVE IT. It will end up corrupting our Dudley. It can go to an orphanage. TODAY!"

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8 months later little Henry Potter walked out of his crib and down the stairs of the Wool's Orphanage for a small snack. Only to get caught by the Matron and dragged right back to his room. Little Henry grew up here, known by all and himself as Harry Potter.

At the timid age of 3, on his birthday, Little Harry wondered away and ended up in central london. Little Harry tripped and stumbled over a pair of well polished black oxford shoes. Grunting and looking up he sees a pair of dark brown eyes staring down at him. The stranger leans down and rights him.

"Oh dear me Little one. Hmm." The stranger with brown hair "Where are your parents?" He looks down at him while Young Harry stares back. "Right. Muggle children are slow. Okay. Where are Mommy and Daddy? Your parents?" Young Harry tilts his head.

"Eh. Mu- mmy. Da-da.. daddy? Who that?"

"You don't know your parents. Okay. Do you know your name? Your name."

"Ooh. Heh. I Harry." Little Harry pats his head rustling the hair. The stranger's gaze fixes onto his forehead. The lightning scar that proclaims this small child to be Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"Oh my, Little Harry what are you doing here. Come on young one. I must trace from where you came." Discreetly pulling out his wand he casts a print tracing spell at Harry. Harry gasps and stumbles back as his footprints glow a light yellow. "Come along young one." Transfixed, Harry stumbles along with the kind stranger.

"What's that?" Harry points.

"No contractions Harry. Proper Speech. 'What is that?'. And that is a tracing spell. To retrace one's steps." The stranger looks down and raises an eyebrow at Harry's scrunched face. "Magic Harry. It is Magic."

"Magic is real?"

"Why of course it is Harry. You would know that. At least you should. What an odd... question." The trace spell ends and the stranger looks at the building. "Wool's Orphanage. Harry.. do you live here?"

"Home. Yes. I live here." Little Harry then waves at the stranger and skips through the door. The stranger follows behind with an air of caution around him. Walking into a room he sees an older lady berating young Harry.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack. What would the cops do if they couldn't find you if I had to call them? You could have died. London is an extremely dangerous place child and not kind at all. Especially to one so young. Now go to your room and clean yourself up. You have the stink of the city on you." Harry skitters away around a corner. The woman huffs as she stands up.

"Aaaahhh!!" The lady shrieks with a hand upon her chest as she turns towards the door. "Oh dear. I am so sorry sir. I did not hear you come in." She bustles towards him and hustles him into her office. "What can I do for you? I am Mrs. Benardy. The matron of this place." She sits and gestures for the stranger to do the same.

"Of course Mrs. Benardy. I am Fabian Greengrass. I came upon young Harry in central London. As it were he tripped over my feet." Mr. Greengrass states as he settles into the slight chair.

"Oh my. I am so sorry about that is there anything I can do fo you?" The matron spits out in a haste.

"Yes. That boy. He stated his name to be Harry Potter. He seemed hesitant so I would just like to confirm."

"Oh. Yes. His name is Harry Potter. At least, that is what the letter stated his name as. It had his name and birthdate. Nothing else." The lady says flippantly with a wave of her hand.

"I see. It would just so happen that I was in school with his parents. They died when he was a year old. I had believed, as had everyone who knew them, that he had been put with loving people. It would seem I was in the wrong." The man tilts his head as he speaks.

"Oh that is fortunate. I can say I do remember seeing a tall figure running down the street. A woman I am sure."

"A woman you say? The family he was placed with dumped him? That won't do. Tell me about him. His education. Personality."

"Oh." Her eyes grow wide and startled. She starts ruffling through the things on her desk. "Well. There is not much to say. Wool's is not able to have an education for children under the age of 5. And when they do it is very poor. Young harry seems to know the words yet have trouble speaking them. Personality wise. He seems to flip flop. I have gone into his room only to see him cross legged on his bed and staring at the wall. Quietly. Doing nothing else. He rarely interacts with the other children. The older ones have taken to picking on him due to his slight figure I believe. He does get along with the teenagers. He will say hello and ask them what they are doing. Especially if it's a book. And he will sometimes get them to tell him all about it." The matron sits stiffly. The man nods his head. Seeming to have a decision made up he looks at her.

"Very well. How much does it cost for an adoption? Or do we simply sign papers?" The Matron fumbles around and stutters.

"We have not had an adoption here in quite some time. Ah. Here we go. Let's get to it!"

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"Harry Potter." Mrs. Benardy speaks into the commons. Spotted is a tiny boy with crazy hair jumping from a couch that had an older teen on it. "This man right here has placed to adopt you. I figured I would go ahead and let him." Harry's face breaks into a smile. He nods enthusiastically.

"I suppose that we have our answer then."

"Of course, sir. You can go ahead and take him then. I will file the papers." Harry looks up at the stranger.

"I never told you my name. I am Fabian Greengrass. You can call me father once we get more acquainted if you like. Or you can call me Mr. Greengrass, Fabian or Sir."

"Yes Sir."

"Alright. We shall get going. Is there anything you would like to grab before we go?" Young Harry tilts his head then shakes it. He then shakes his head furiously no. Mr. Greengrass then nods his head. "Let us get going." They walk out of the building, around a corner and into an Alley.

"What.. are.. we doing here?" Little Harry questions.

"Going home. Take my hand. Close your eyes. You will be very dizzy and I would not like you to end up puking." Harry's eyes widen and he grabs Fabian's hand and squeezes his eyes shut. The next moment, they are in a large vestibule with dark marble everywhere. A lady with blonde hair bustles in and looks down.

"Oh dear."