How?  How do you write so well?  Have you ever considered getting anything published?  I think you definitely could.  Anyway, if you haven't already gathered this, it was amazing!!

Why do you avoid writing HP FF? Anyway, it's good. I love your character. And I love that she gets all annoyed at the people out in cloaks for violating the Statute of Secrecy - that's something that's always bothered me. Chapter two? *puppy dog eyes* 

A severely-less-polished chapter 2.

* 

Chapter Two -- Serpent

Sunday, June 23, 2002

"Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, and illuminated the photographed history of the son, Dudley: a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day..." 

... 

Pounding, banging, and a cry of “Up! Get up! Now!”

Harry opened his eyes, and swallowed a groan. “Coming,” he mumbled as he felt around for his glasses. He found them and had just put them on when Aunt Petunia returned and rapped on his door once again.

“Get up!” she snapped.

“I’m coming,” Harry said, louder.

He sat up, swung his feet off the bed, and looked around for some presentable socks. All he could find were a clean but mismatched pair, and he pulled them on with a sigh. Then, unable to muster the energy to get up and see what Aunt Petunia wanted, he flopped back onto the bed and watched as a spider busied itself making a web.

Harry was used to spiders; the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

Once or twice it had occurred to him that it was rather strange that his aunt and uncle forced him to sleep in a cupboard, but he figured that was a topic that would probably get him in a lot of trouble if he ever asked about it.

Another sharp knock on the door signaled Aunt Petunia’s third visit. “Are you up yet?”

“Nearly.” Harry sat up again, hastily, and just in time as the cupboard door swung open.

“Get a move on,” snapped Aunt Petunia, glaring at him. “I need you to look after the bacon, and don’t you dare let it burn! I want everything perfect for Duddy’s birthday.” Even her usual hatred for Harry couldn’t keep her from simpering a little as she thought of her son.

Harry stifled another groan. As Aunt Petunia marched away, he staggered to his feet and headed for the kitchen. The table was almost entirely buried by Dudley’s presents, all of which were wrapped in the most garishly coloured paper imaginable. 

The bacon was already beginning to sizzle gently in its pan. Harry stared at it blankly for a few seconds, and then went to rifle through the refrigerator for eggs.

It wasn’t often that the Dursleys made him cook, usually just special occasions like birthdays or Christmas, although if Aunt Petunia expected guests she usually locked him up in the cupboard and told him to stay quiet. A lot of people didn’t even know Harry existed.

Sometimes Harry wondered whether this lack of socialization was the cause or the result of being rather small and skinny and pale, though the more logical part of his mind insisted that it was probably because he spent most of his time in a dark cupboard.

He brushed his black, unruly hair out of his eyes and set about frying the eggs. Uncle Vernon, who was sitting at the table reading a newspaper, glanced up and grunted at him angrily. Harry froze momentarily, but when Uncle Vernon raised no complaint against him, he decided it must have been generalized, nonspecific rage and continued what he was doing.

Shortly afterwards Dudley arrived, closely followed by his mother. The other boy didn’t even seem to notice Harry, instead making a beeline straight for the presents, a greedy light in his watery blue eyes.

As Harry carefully maneuvered the eggs and bacon onto the table, exercising what he considered to be extreme feats of dexterity in avoiding both the presents and Dudley, his cousin finished counting presents.

Dudley’s face fell, and started to go blotchy.

“Thirty-six,” he said, and glowered balefully up at his parents. “Two less than last year.”

Hastily, Aunt Petunia said, “Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, here, it’s under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.”

Dudley shrugged. “Thirty-seven, then.” He screwed up his face and Harry started wolfing down his breakfast at top speed, in case Dudley overturned the table in his fast-approaching tantrum.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today.” She smiled, simpered, and continued, “How’s that, popkin? Two more presents? Is that all right?”

For a long moment Dudley was silent. Harry saw his fingers twitching, and then his lips moving slightly, and then his cousin said, “So then I’d have thirty... thirty...”

“Thirty nine, sweetums,” Aunt Petunia said.

This seemed to placate Dudley temporarily, because he promptly flopped down and grabbed the nearest parcel.

Uncle Vernon folded his newspaper and chuckled. “That’s my boy,” he said proudly, ruffling his son's corn-blond hair. “Always get your money’s worth.”

Harry watched miserably as Dudley unwrapped a new video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. The formerly hidden present from Aunt Marge turned out to be a gold wristwatch.

The biggest birthday present Harry had ever received had been a library card and the promise of rides whenever possible from the Dursley’s neighbor, Miss Edwards. It was his most treasured possession, and his greatest fear was that the Dursleys would find out about it and take it away. Miss Edwards took him to the library in secret, whenever the Dursleys asked her to watch Harry while they went out, and she always made a point of complaining about his bad behaviour so they didn’t get suspicious.

Harry rather liked Miss Edwards.

Dudley had just finished unwrapping the last present-- a racing bike which he had been asking for for ages, for reasons unknown to Harry-- when the doorbell rang. Aunt Petunia scurried to answer it, and a minute later Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss walked in with his mother.

Half an hour later, Harry was dumped on Miss Edwards’ doorstep while the Dursleys and Piers left for the zoo. Harry watched until they turned the corner and the car vanished from sight before ringing the doorbell.

It swung open a minute later to reveal the tall, thin, severe form of Miss Edwards. As usual, she wore dull grey and an expression that could have cut glass. Harry smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Harry,” she said briskly, “good morning, do come in, did they feed you properly?”

“Yes,” Harry said, and followed her into the house.

“Oh, good,” she said. “Were there any Dudley tantrums?” Harry, who had long since gotten used to her austerity, noted the hint of amusement in her voice.

“Very nearly,” he said, “because he only had thirty-seven presents this year.”

“How traumatizing for him,” Miss Edwards said, “and what a terrible thing to do to a child, getting him thirty-seven presents for his birthday. That boy will come to ruin because of it, you mark my words.”

“Yes, Miss Edwards,” said Harry meekly.

“And where are they off to today?” she asked, retrieving her keys from a hook on the wall and gesturing him into the garage.

“The zoo,” Harry replied, a trifle wistfully. He liked animals, in theory, but never having met any up close he couldn’t be sure.

Miss Edwards seemed to notice, because she paused as she opened the car door. “We could go to the zoo,” she said. “If you like.” 

“Won’t the Dursleys be angry, though?” Harry bit his lip anxiously, and then bit down harder when Miss Edward actually laughed.

“No doubt they will,” she said viciously, “but believe me, there won’t be much they can do about it, come Monday.”

“What?” They flopped into the car almost in unison.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. You’ll find out soon enough. So. The library, or the zoo?”

Harry considered for a while. On the one hand, the library was a lot safer than the zoo, given that it was the last place on earth Dudley would want to go for his birthday. On the other... Harry had never been to the zoo, and Miss Edwards seemed to think it was a reasonably good idea, and he had never known her to have poor judgement before...

“The zoo,” he said.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot, it had turned into a very hot Sunday and Harry was nearly beside himself with excitement. Miss Edwards bought him an enormous chocolate ice cream at the entrance and followed him, smiling indulgently, from exhibit to exhibit.

Harry had never seen so many people in his life, and he wasn’t sure whether the animals or the crowds were the more fascinating.

After Miss Edwards tapped him on the shoulder and told him to watch a man over by the gorilla, because he was about to pick that other man’s pocket, Harry decided that it was definitely the crowds that made this trip worthwhile.

They spied the Dursleys going into the reptile house as they were enjoying lunch outside the zoo cafe. Miss Edwards watched them with slightly narrowed eyes and drummed her fingers on the table.

“Have you ever seen a snake, Harry?” she asked.

“Only pictures,” he replied, biting his lip again. Normally Miss Edwards was all for caution and secrecy, and it made him very nervous that she suddenly seemed to be looking for an opportunity to antagonize the Dursleys.

She continued to drum her fingers on the table. “They’re quite fascinating, really.”

“We could go once the Dursleys leave?” Harry suggested hopefully.

“We could, yes,” Miss Edwards said, still staring at the reptile house and drumming her fingers. “Or we could go in and have a look and I’ll make sure they don’t notice you.” She turned to smile at him as he frowned. “Oh, don’t worry, Harry, trust me!”

Harry shrugged, and said all right.

The reptile house was cool and dark, the huge tanks illuminated from within. Harry once again had to revise his assumptions about the attractions of the zoo: First reptiles, then people, then the rest of the animals. The lizards and snakes didn’t move much, but there was something about the play of light over their scales and the way most of them seemed to ooze sinister intentions that was incredibly fascinating.

Harry quickly found himself in front of the largest snake in the place; it looked about as big around as Harry was, and long enough to have wrapped  itself twice around Miss Edwards’ car. It appeared to be asleep, however, and no one seemed to be giving it much notice.

Then, quite suddenly, the snake opened its eyes. Slowly its head rose until its eyes were level with Harry’s. It held his gaze for a long moment-- and then winked.

Harry stared at it, then looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he turned back to the snake and said uncertainly, “Er... did you just wink at me?”

The snake shook its head and replied, “No, you sstupid boy, it musst have been your imagination. Of coursse I winked at you.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

It seemed as sensible a reason as any, given that Harry was talking to a snake. He was pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to happen, but unusual things happened to him all the time.

Once Aunt Petunia had, in a fit of compulsivity, taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut off so much of Harry’s untidy hair that he was nearly bald. He had gone to bed terrified of the inevitable laughter he would face in school the next morning, only to wake up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. 

Another time he’d ended up on the roof of the school kitchens with absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him and he had quite suddenly found himself on the chimney. This had earned him an angry letter home from the headmistress, and a week locked in his cupboard.

Compared to that, Harry supposed that talking snakes were relatively minor. “Er... Do you talk to people often?”

The snake shook its head.

“I expect they just come by and tap on the glass without stopping to think that maybe you’re trying to sleep,” Harry said, sympathetically. 

“Ssomething like that, yess,” the snake hissed.

Harry opened his mouth to offer further sympathies, but was interrupted by a deafening shout behind him.

“DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley scrambled over to the snake’s tank at top speed. Not seeming to recognize Harry, he said, “Out of the way, you,” and punched him in the ribs. Caught off guard, Harry fell hard onto the concrete floor. A hand reached down, grabbed his elbow, and dragged him to his feet and away from the cage. A minute later he recognized the hand as belonging to Miss Edwards, who smiled and put a finger to her lips.

What came next happened so fast that no one was entirely sure how it happened-- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning in with their hands and noses pressed against the glass; the next, they recoiled with shrieks of horror.

The glass had vanished. Harry gasped, and Miss Edwards snickered. Everyone else in the reptile house screamed and fled as the gigantic snake uncoiled and slithered swiftly out onto the floor.

It slid past him, winked at him once again, and Harry thought he heard it hiss, “Thankss, friend.”

Miss Edwards leaned down and muttered, “I think this would be a good time to leave, don’t you?”

Harry agreed fervently and they departed at top speed.

As they got back into the car and pulled out of the parking lot, Harry thought Miss Edwards looked very smug about something. It made him very nervous.

By the time the Dursleys arrived to pick Harry up, Harry was sitting at the kitchen counter, polishing the silverware, while Miss Edwards lectured him about the necessity of manners, decorum, and not running through the living room like a bleeding idiot.

It helped, but Piers had evidently recognized Harry because they had scarcely returned to number four, Privet Drive when Uncle Vernon forced him into his cupboard and locked the door, snaring from the other side, “We know it was you, you--”

Harry didn’t even bother claiming his innocence. It never worked. He just hoped that Miss Edwards had been right about... whatever it was that would happen tomorrow.

For ten long, miserable years, he had lived in the Dursleys. They told him his parents had died in a car crash, the same car crash that had given him the vaguely lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Other than that, his aunt and uncle never mentioned his parents and forbade him to ask questions.

Sometimes he wondered what they looked like.

Other times he wondered if he could just go and live with Miss Edwards, but she had explained that that was very unlikely legally speaking.

He sighed, rolled over onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow.

...

The castle rose out of the gloom like a bizarre, gigantic fungus, haphazardly balanced on the cliffside and with too many turrets to be really useful for fighting. But then, it hadn’t been built to withstand a siege from anything more hostile than the weather.

A dark, cloaked figure hastened towards the castle, only to stop short when a voice spoke: “You are late.”

She paused, turned towards the tree and the shadows from which the voice came. She lifted a hand to pull back her hood. Her face, pale as parchment, glowed in the moonlight. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she whispered.

A piece of shadow detached itself from the tree, and walked forward before suddenly seeming to resolve itself into a tall, human shape.

“News?”

“None, my lord. I--” she broke off as her lord raised a long-fingered hand to brush her cheek.

“None?”

The witch took a deep, gulping breath, and said, “They are becoming increasingly suspicious. Rab was nearly caught last night, it was only by sheer luck that he got away--”

He touched her shoulder gently, steering her towards the castle. “Yes, he told me. He also mentioned something about Vincent being--”

“A traitor, my lord, I’m sure of it!”

They both paused briefly as they entered the castle through giant, oaken doors. 

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very well. I shall plan accordingly. Tell your niece to keep an eye on him, will you?”

The witch nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

The two of them turned a corner, and stepped onto a narrow, spiral staircase. It revolved slowly upward as they stood in silence. After a moment the steps ground to a halt, and deposited them in an enormous, circular study filled to the brim with books.

The silence stretched, filled the entire room, and finally broke.

“We’re losing this war, you know.”

“Yes.”

This was really really awesome, TNO!!! The writing is amazing; I couldn't stop reading it! I wish I could write like that. Chapter 3? Soon? Maybe?

Peacing out for now,

Hannah ☺☻

Sorry for the delay. Life caught up with me. Also sorry for the choppiness of this chapter.

* 

Chapter Three -- Escape

Monday, June 24, 1992

Harry was not allowed out of his cupboard the next morning, so he spent most of the day sitting on his bed, tapping the wall with his toes and occasionally pressing his ear to the cupboard door in hopes of hearing some news.

Around three o’clock someone knocked on the door of number four, Privet Drive. Harry listened to Aunt Petunia’s quick footsteps (she was wearing her best high heels, if the tapping was anything to go by) on the staircase, and then the door open--

Aunt Petunia shrieked, and there was a thud that might have been the door slamming shut on an extended foot. 

“Hi!” A woman’s voice, high-pitched but unnaturally so, Harry thought. Following this came a series of slightly muffled thuds and angry protestations from Aunt Petunia, from which Harry surmised the visitor had forced her way into the house.

The visitor said, “Oh, this is lovely. A bit too clean, though, don’t you think?” Heels clicked along the hallway, and a door opened-- the living room, probably, though Harry couldn’t be sure.

There was a long pause. Then the visitor tutted. 

“What?” Aunt Petunia demanded, then added hastily, “Never mind! It isn’t important! I demand that you leave at once, you- you--”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please,” the visitor interrupted. “I won’t be here long, provided you cooperate of course. Where are your books?”

“I-- what?”

“Your books. You know. People keep books in their living rooms. Where are they?”

Harry decided he like this visitor a lot, and thought it was a shame that his chances of meeting her rested somewhere around zero.

“We- I don’t- that is- shelves!” Aunt Petunia managed, and the visitor tutted again.

“I hardly call those books. And they were dusty. What sort of household--” The visitor broke off with a sigh. “Look. It isn’t important. Well, it is, but--” 

More clicking, getting closer. Harry assumed she was heading to the kitchen, so when she instead flung open the cupboard door he tumbled headlong into the hallway. He bumped his chin on the floorboards and ended up staring at the toes of a pair of shiny black boots.

Aunt Petunia actually squawked.

Harry looked up.

The visitor beamed down out him. Harry’s first thought was that she was very pale, and his second was that she was absolutely terrifying. 

“So,” she said, and in one fluid motion she knelt, grabbed his arms, and yanked him to his feet. Harry squirmed under her critical gaze. “You’re Harry.”

“Er.” Harry said. “Yes.” Remembering Miss Edwards’ strange behaviour yesterday, he added, “Did Miss Edwards send you?”

The visitor raised an eyebrow slightly. “In a manner of speaking.” She stared at him for an uncomfortably long time, completely ignoring Aunt Petunia’s continued demands. She had the darkest eyes Harry had ever seen. Then she suddenly seemed to remember herself, and smiled again. “Harry,” she said, and shook his hand rather over-enthusiastically. “Lovely to meet you. Call me Miss Black.”

“Er. Hello. Um. Nice to meet you?”

The smile slipped away as she turned to Aunt Petunia. Brightly, Miss Black said, “Right, well, I can see you haven’t been traumatizing him like you have your own son, which is something. That being said, term starts in two months and my colleague feels Harry would be much better served if he spent some time, ah, acclimatizing. You know how it is.” And a horrible, cruel smile spread over her face as the color drained out of Aunt Petunia’s face. “Go pack your things, Harry.”

Too disturbed by the evil smile Miss Black still wore, Harry hastened to obey, stuffing his meager possessions into his pillow case and hurrying out a few minutes later to find Aunt Petunia backed into a corner, now looking faintly green.

Miss Black turned towards Harry as the cupboard shut behind him, and gestured at the front door. “Shall we?” she asked.

And a few seconds later Harry found himself leaving number four, Privet Drive with a complete stranger and a pillowcase filled with clothes and a library card, wondering how on earth Miss Edwards had managed to arrange his rescue.

Miss Black gestured him into a shiny black car with darkened windows, and Harry felt a little shiver of fear and hesitated on the curb. Then one of the windows rolled down and Miss Edwards waved at him encouragingly, so he swallowed and clambered awkwardly into the smooth exterior. Miss Black slipped into the drivers seat, and a minute later the car slid away from the curb. 

“What... just... happened?” Harry asked faintly after a long silence. Miss Edwards smiled faintly as Miss Black scowled at the road.

“Later,” she said. “My friend is not terribly keen on talking about it in such an insecure location.”

Miss Black gritted her teeth. “I am not your friend, Rose, nor do I appreciate your entirely too bold methods of contact.” Her lips curled into a sneer at the last word.

Harry glanced at Miss Edwards, surprised that anyone could dislike her. Miss Edwards, however, seemed untouched. “Bella, it had to be done. You saw the conditions he was living in. And he’s old enough.”

Miss Black’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Don’t call me Bella.”

Abruptly Harry noticed that they were very definitely not driving along any of the streets within five minutes of Privet Drive. He could tell because of the trees, which were thick and wild and grew so close together that they closed over the top of the car.

“Where--” he began, feeling a flicker of panic in his stomach, but Miss Black cut him off.

“Up north,” she said. “About a mile away from my house.”

She didn’t seem inclined to say any more, so Harry was very glad when Miss Edwards added, “Everything will be explained in a few minutes, don’t worry. You’ll meet another friend of mine-- a real friend, of course.”

Miss Black snorted at that, but offered no further comment.

They drove in silence through the forest, which eventually gave way to the biggest house Harry had ever seen, an enormous building made of black bricks, with a door so dark and forbidding that Harry wouldn’t have been  surprised in the least to find it featured in a cheap horror movie.

“This is your house?” he asked, wonderingly.

“Yes,” Miss Black said shortly, killing the engine and getting out of the car. “Now come on. Quickly.”

Harry grabbed his pillowcase and hurried after Miss Black, Miss Edwards right behind him. 

As he had suspected, the enormous door slammed shut behind them with a horrible thud and the squeal of rusty hinges. Miss Black made an approving sound in the back of her throat and said, “The elves did a damn good job on my door, don’t you think? Good old family, really. That’s the trouble with people these days, they think that house elves ought to have more rights and that takes the craftsmanship right out of the job.”

“Hm. Well, you know my opinion on the matter,” Miss Edwards said.

“Elves?” Harry asked, now completely bewildered.

“In a minute, dear.”

“It isn’t that I abuse them, Rose,” Miss Black said firmly. “I just don’t pay them. They don’t want paying, if they asked I would pay them-- I’ve got more than enough money lying around anyway-- but they very vehemently don’t want it. They like work.”

“They don’t know anything but work,” Miss Edwards corrected coldly.

Miss Black shrugged. “Through here.”

She led them into a lavishly decorated parlor. Harry stared; it looked like something out of an anachronistic historical movie, vaguely Victorian except for the computer that sat, glowing faintly, on a big desk in the corner, next to a football-sized apparatus that hummed and beeped irregularly. Miss Black gestured for him to stay put and moved to the computer without so much as a second glance at her guests.

Harry was so busy staring around at the room that he didn’t notice the tall, thin man sitting in one of the armchairs until he stood up.

The man was tall, his arms and legs far too long in comparison to the rest of him, and he had a very pale face and thick black hair and a distinctly annoyed look on his face. Miss Edwards shifted slightly so that she was partially between the man and Harry.

“Er,” Harry said, and he clutched at the pillowcase like a lifeline. 

To Harry’s surprise the man smiled a little and held out a hand. “Hello,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking over Harry’s face in a way that made Harry feel like a particularly interesting bacterium being examined under a microscope. “I’m Tom.”

“Er. Harry. Harry Potter,” Harry said awkwardly. He held out a hand, and after a few seconds Tom took it gingerly. He let go very quickly, which Harry was more than a little grateful for, not least because Tom had hands like ice.

“Yes,” Tom said quietly, staring with discomfiting intensity for a minute longer. Then, abruptly, he seemed to remember himself and said, “On to business. Do sit down.”

Harry sat nervously, clutching his pillowcase in his lap. Miss Edwards sat down next to him and patted his shoulder in a vaguely comforting way. “Business?” Harry asked.

Tom smiled humorlessly. “Yes. Most importantly, Harry, is this. You’re a wizard.”

It was a very good thing Harry was already sitting down, because upon discovery that Miss Edwards had delivered him from the Dursleys and into the hands of a lunatic he would most certainly have fallen down otherwise.

“What?” Harry said.

“Wizard. Magical.” Tom waved a thin hand aimlessly. “Normally I’d allow time for you to take it in, but as we’re on rather a tight schedule...” He sighed. “You’ve done things you can’t explain. Regrowing hair, talking to snakes, that sort of thing.”

Which was entirely true, but magic...? Harry glanced sidelong at Miss Edwards, who merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, Harry, magic,” Tom said, the faintest trace of amusement around his eyes. At the computer, Miss Black snickered.

“But I can’t be--” Harry began, but Tom cut him off.

“You can’t, but you are, and rest assured there will be time to adjust to the idea in the future. Now, however, there are more important matters. The war, to be specific.”

“War?” Harry asked, a flicker of fear driving away his confusion for the moment.”

Tom took a deep breath. “About... oh... about a century ago, two extraordinarily bright young men became friends. Alone they were merely ambitious, slightly arrogant wizards, but together... From what I gather they sort of fed off of each other. They did together what neither would have dared to do alone.

“Years passed. No one really took them seriously. The wizarding world has always had problems with megalomaniacs, it comes with the territory--”

Miss Edwards snorted, and Tom glared at her.

“--and many of us are distinctly lacking in common sense,” Tom continued, still glaring, “so of course the authorities ignore these things until they become problematic. This time was no exception. And about sixty years ago our duo of Dark Lords marched their army straight to the Ministry of Magic and the war began. We’ve been fighting ever since--”

From the computer, Miss Black interrupted angrily, “Because the Ministry is too damned traditionally minded to bother with things like strategy.” She turned away from the screen to look indignantly at Harry. “You know wizarding battles still involve direct, frontal assaults? Charges, and things like that? Medieval tactics!”

“Yes,” Tom said, smiling. “And somehow no one ever thinks to utilize brooms in their battles, when the muggles they look down upon realized that mastery of the skies is paramount long ago.”

“Muggles?”

“Non-magic people, like me,” Miss Edwards said.

Harry sat for a while, very aware that both Tom and Miss Edwards were staring at him. He had about a million questions, and he couldn’t for the life of him decide which to ask first.

At last he said, “Er... what do you have to do with it, exactly?”

Tom smiled thinly. “I have a number of interests which directly oppose those of the Dark Lords’. As such I have been doing what I can to stop them, a task which largely entails becoming headmaster of the only wizarding school in the British Isles and gathering an army of my own. Unlike the Ministry, however, I tend to rely on misinformation, espionage, and stealth to get what I need. It works rather better than frontal assault, you see.”

“Headmaster?” Harry asked blankly. Tom shrugged.

“I have access to the minds of the country’s youth. That’s a powerful advantage when you’re fighting a war.”

Harry thought some more. “And you’re telling me this because...?” he asked.

Tom turned instantly grave. “It pertains to you rather personally. What do you know about your parents?”

“I know they died in a car crash-- Oh. Were they wizards too?” Harry still wasn’t convinced that Tom wasn’t a lunatic, but Miss Edwards seemed to know what she was doing, and even if she didn’t and Tom was mad, it would probably be good to play along.

“No, they didn’t, and yes, they were,” Tom said. “They were murdered, in fact. On the Dark Lords’ orders.” He sighed. “There was a prophecy. It named you as the only one who could defeat the Dark Lords. Obviously, they attempted to have you killed. However, due to incompetence on the part of the servant ordered to do the deed, you survived.”

“And now you expect me to be some-- some whiny hero with a saving-people-thing bordering on stupidity?” asked Harry, who had snuck enough rounds on Dudley’s computer games to know how this sort of thing went.

“What? No.” Tom looked completely bewildered. “I expect you to go to school, like all children, and learn how to control your magic, like all children, and stay as far off the Dark Lords’ radar as possible, like all children. When you graduate you can do the hero thing, if you really want to.” He smiled at Harry’s confusion. “It’s only in stories that heros survive. In real life, they die fast and violently. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a child.”

“Then why--?”

Tom shrugged. “You deserve to know the truth, after all these years. I do apologize for leaving you with the Dursleys. I know they’re terrible, Rose told me about it often enough.”

Miss Edwards made a very angry sound in the back of her throat.

“You see, you survived because of a sacrifice on your mother’s part-- she died to save you-- and that left a lingering protection in your blood, a protection which will continue to hide you from the Dark Lords until such time as you no longer live under your aunt’s roof. Therefore you will be expected to return to Privet Drive every summer, though of course you will stay here for the remainder of this summer, and enter Hogwarts this fall. If you are agreeable, of course.”

“Hogwarts is the school,” Miss Edwards added, hastily, before Harry could ask. “Don’t ask why it’s called that, no one knows.”

“Of course, if you’d rather return to Privet Drive--” Tom began, but Harry cut him off.

“No, no, I’d be glad to stay,” he said in a rush.

After that things happened rather quickly; Miss Black finished with the computer, printed something out, handed it to Tom, and then hurried Harry and Miss Edwards out of the room. Harry was shown to an enormous bedroom, given a hastily sketched map of the house with instructions not to be rude to the house elves but to call them if he needed anything, and left to his own devices before he could ask what a house elf was. Exhausted, he tumbled onto the bed without even bothering to remove his glasses. A few minutes later he fell asleep.

The wizard sprinted through the darkness, not even bothering to try for stealth. Blood and sweat dripped down his face and stung his eyes as he crashed into a tree and bounced back. He heard a shout behind him and scrambled to his feet again, panic threatening to engulf him.

He ran until he felt the wards give way, and promptly Disapparated.

A few seconds later his knees buckled into a thick, fluffy green carpet.

“Do try not to get blood on my carpet, Rab, the house elves only just finished with the stains from last time.”

“You were right,” he choked out. “Vincent--” His vision blurred, and he collapsed entirely.

Somewhere overhead he heard a faint tsk-tsk, and then felt cold fingers on the side of his neck. And then... nothing.

This is wonderful! I love it! I particularly like what you did with
Harry; he's just like canon except much, much better, which isn't
something I've seen before, not that I've read much fanfiction. Since
you want critique, I'd like to mention that along with what ZNZ said, it
doesn't make sense that he wouldn't have seen an animal up close. The
cupboard under the stairs was full of spiders, remember, one of which was on his sock, and Aunt Marge
came to visit sometimes with her dogs, one of which chased him. I really like the sentence itself, though; all I really think you should change is a few words for accuracy.