Prologue
“Alright, Harry.” Angelina Davies said from where she sat in the driver's seat of her car, looking in the rear view mirror at the little boy in the backseat. He was small for his age, something that had always worried her, and looked even smaller due to the oversized clothes that he wore. “Are you all buckled up and ready to go?”
Harry looked up at her, his bright green eyes staring through his round glasses, giving him an almost owlish look. “Yes, ma’am. Where are we going?”
Angelina smiled a bit. “We’re going to a very sweet couple in London, Harry, and they’re going to be taking care of you for a while.”
“Okay.” Was all the boy replied with, turning to look out the window as Angelina began to drive, already knowing the route to the Hartford’s house like the back of her hand.
They were a recent addition to the foster parent roster that she kept on file, a young couple named Gideon and Fiona. There were a few notes in their files, stating that the couple had a few odd quirks, but that they were incredibly kind and would be loving, doting guardians for children who needed just a bit of extra care.
And she knew that Harry would properly thrive there, in a way he hadn’t at any of his other foster homes.
She had been Harry Potter’s caseworker for two years now, since he was taken away from his Aunt and Uncle, alongside his cousin, at four years old, after one of his nursery teachers had discovered hand shaped bruises all over the boy’s arms and had called it in. The Dursleys had been a wretched couple, shouting about how little Harry was a freak, and that they were doing what they needed to do to get rid of his freakish behavior.
It had been remarkably easy to get Harry removed, but the two had fought to keep their biological son, Dudley.
Angelina wasn’t that boy’s caseworker, and while she would never admit it, she was relieved that she wasn’t. Her colleague, Isaac Daniels, said he was already a bully and a terror at six years old, and it was hard to keep him in a foster home for more than a few weeks because of his behavior.
Harry, however, was both the most interesting little boy she had ever worked with, and the strangest.
He was a kind and gentle little thing, always remembering his manners and doing whatever he could to help around the house with his foster families. He got along with animals and adults, but struggled when he was around other children, and had a love for books that she had never seen before in a boy his age.
But, it seemed like strange things happened around him at times.
His first foster family, the O’Reileys, an older couple who had only adult children, had complained that after Harry had begun living with them, they would find light bulbs exploded and glass cracked after he cried or got frustrated.
His second, the Burtons, a well respected foster family who was able to help even the most difficult children in foster care, said that sometimes things flew across the room and into his hands if he focused on them long enough.
The Grangers, a family with a little girl who seemed to cause Harry a lot of anxiety, had the most to say. Apparently, their daughter could do strange things as well, but they had never seen her calmly pick up an Adder, walk it into the house, and ask for a cup of water so the snake could have a drink, as it was apparently very thirsty.
Angelina didn’t quite believe all of these claims, and Harry never did anything strange like that around her, so she simply chalked it up to the stress of taking care of a child with as much trauma as the boy has and ignored it.
“Mrs. Davies?” Harry asked softly, snapping her out of her train of thought and causing her to glance at him in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, Harry?”
“Do you think Mr and Mrs. Hartford will like me?” His voice was so quiet, so nervous… It made her heart clench a bit. A six year old boy shouldn’t be so afraid of adults not liking him.
“I think they’ll love you, dear.” She smiled reassuringly. “You’re a brilliant young man.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Harry nodded a bit, running a hand through his messy hair, the pale, lightning-like scar on his forehead standing out against his tanned skin. That scar had been a mystery amongst everyone who had ever met the boy, because none of them could truly figure out what it was from, but all of them knew it had to have been horrible to make a wound like that.
The car ride was silent after that, Harry continuing to stare out the window with his big, owlish eyes until Angelina pulled up to the London address.
They were on a busy main street, surrounded by shops selling everything from clothes, to books, to random odds and ends that were more fun than anything else, although the address that she and Harry were heading to was different.
The sign on the building read The Crow’s Nest, a small, cozy little cafe right in the heart of London. One of those old, Victorian era buildings with a flat atop the shop, and this one, with its black painted bricks and slightly gothic look, seemed to fit in exactly with that time period.
Angelina climbed out of the car, heading around to Harry’s side and opening his door for him, helping him out and grabbing his duffle bag- a gift she had bought him when she realized that he had almost no belongings of his own.
She had nearly cried when he burst into tears and said it was the first gift he had ever gotten, but had managed to hold in her emotions. She didn’t want to upset the poor thing further after all.
Harry gently grabbed her hand as he looked up at the sign, raising a brow and looking at her curiously.
“They live above the cafe.” She explained, already knowing what he was going to ask. “Mrs. Hartford’s father owned the shop before she did, and when he passed away, it passed down to her. She runs the cafe, and her husband works at the tattoo parlor up the road.”
“Oh…” Harry said softly, frowning. “It’s sad that her dad passed away.”
“It is.”
“Is her mum still alive?”
“I’m not sure, Harry.”
“Oh, okay.” He nodded, effectively ending that conversation as Angelina led him around the back of the shop and through the gate that had been left open for them both, where she knew the front door of the flat actually was. The small, fenced in backyard was lush and green, with a few rose bushes along the fence.
She grabbed hold of the door knocker, and banged it three times. It took all of ten seconds for the door to open, and Angelina smiled when she saw Fiona Hartford, smiling a wide, bright smile at them both.
“Mrs. Davies, it’s so good to see you.” She said softly, nodding to Angelina, before she knelt down to Harry’s height to greet him properly. “Hullo, Harry. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Fiona Hartford. You can just call me Fiona.”
She held her hand out to him, and Harry stared at it for a few seconds before he gently shook it, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“Hi, Fiona.” He said softly, letting go of Angelina’s hand as Fiona stood up again. “Thank you for letting me come and stay with you.”
“Oh, love, you don’t need to thank us. Gid and I are happy to have you here.”
Angelina sighed in relief, watching the two of them interact. She figured that everything would be fine, but seeing the way that Harry instantly seemed to like Fiona had eased the last of her worries.
Now, she just had to get through the last daunting task; getting the boy settled in, and introducing him to Gideon.
—
Harry had never liked a pair of adults as quickly as he liked Fiona and Gideon.
The two of them were, in the best way he could describe them, weird.
Fiona was a short, skinny woman, who didn’t look much older than the teenagers he had seen walking around outside, with big, grey eyes that reflected the light. She was pale, although he was pretty sure some of it was because of makeup, and she had long fingers that wrapped around his in a gentle way that felt safe. She also dressed strangely, wearing a black, flowy shirt and a long black skirt that made her look almost like a witch, which was only added to by her thick mop of curly black hair.
He could perfectly imagine a big witch’s hat on top of her hair, and her riding on a broomstick, laughing her way through the night.
Where Fiona was small, Gideon was… Well, massive. Harry didn’t quite know how tall he was, but he looked almost like he was seven feet tall and had very, very big shoulders.
He was tanner than Fiona, and about the same age, with dark brown eyes that seemed to constantly scan the area around him for something dangerous. He too wore all black, but his was in the form of a leather jacket and dark jeans that had paint smears all over them.
Harry had been a little nervous around him at first, but that quickly went away when Gideon knelt down to his level, a big smile on his face, and introduced himself.
“Hey there, kiddo.” He had said. “Call me Gid, yeah? ‘S really nice to meet you. Want me to take your bag to your room?”
And Harry thought that someone who was actually scary wouldn’t ask someone to call him ‘Gid’, so he obviously wasn’t scary at all.
He watched the three adults all stand around and talk about the weather and how they were all doing for a minute, before Fiona offered him her hand again and asked if he wanted to have a cup of hot cocoa.
Which, he obviously did.
“Yes please, Fiona.” He said softly, and she led him into the kitchen.
The whole house felt like somewhere a witch would live, with paintings of forests all over the walls, dark curtains, on the windows, and bookshelves covered in books and other spooky knick knacks.
“What color mug do you want?” Fiona hummed, opening a cabinet. Harry stood on his toes to try and see, spotting a bright green one with what looked like birds all over it.
“Could I have the green one? With the birds?”
“Of course, love.”
Harry beamed up at her as she grabbed it, along with a few others- assumedly for Gid, Mrs. Davies, and herself. She smiled back, making her way around the kitchen with a practiced ease, boiling water for tea and cocoa while the two of them talked.
“So, Harry. Is green your favorite color?”
“Mhm, I think it’s pretty.”
“It’s very pretty. My favorite color is purple.” She chuckled.
“It’s not black?” He asked in confusion.
“Technically, black isn’t a color. It’s a lack of color.”
He paused, before speaking up again. “What does that mean?”
Fiona hummed, setting tea bags and pouring a packet of cocoa- with marshmallows in it, Harry noted- into the mugs. “Well, every color we see is because of light, like from the sun. Certain things can only show certain colors. So when the light hits it, it’ll only show the color it wants to show.”
“So… Black doesn’t want to show any colors?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh. Cool.”
“Isn’t it?”
The tea kettle let out a loud whistle, making both of them flinch, before they both let out soft giggles as Fiona carefully picked it up, pouring the water into each mug before setting them on a tray she had leaned up against the refrigerator. After a moment of deliberation, she grabbed a few spoons, a small container of sugar cubes, and a jar of honey, setting them on the tray as well.
Harry followed her back out to the living room, where Mrs. Davies and Gid had sat down on the sofas, still engrossed in conversation. Fiona set the tray down, handing one mug to her husband, who thanked her with a quick kiss to the lips, before offering another to Mrs. Davies with a sheepish smile.
“I didn’t remember how you liked your tea, so I brought some sugar and honey so you could do it yourself.” She explained as she handed Harry his cocoa. He took a sip, and gave a happy wiggle in his seat. He wasn’t completely sure why it made him so happy, but… It did.
As everyone settled down with their drinks, he could tell that the three adults were going back into some sort of serious conversation, and Harry decided to not tune in until someone asked him a question.
It took a while for that to happen, and when someone finally spoke to him again, it made him jump, spilling a bit of his drink on the floor. In a flash, Gid reached out and steadied his mug, looking at him with worried eyes.
“You alright?” He asked softly.
“Y-yeah, I’m sorry-” Harry began, but Fiona gently shook her head.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” She said, running a hand over his hair and setting her own mug down before she trotted off to the kitchen, coming back with a towel and setting it over the spilled cocoa. “It was an accident, so there’s nothing to worry about.
He nodded a bit, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry…”
“Harry, love.” Gid murmured, drawing his attention up to the man’s face. “It’s okay, okay? Spilled drinks happen. Shoot, I spilled a bowl of eggs on the kitchen floor this morning because I was so nervous to meet you.”
That made Harry giggle a bit, the mental image of this big, scary looking man spilling eggs all over the floor because of nerves was a bit hysterical.
“There we go.” He smiled, his dark eyes shining at the sound of the laughter. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Mrs. Davies with a soft, happy look on her face, watching the two of them with what Harry could vaguely recognize as pure relief.
And that was a good sign, he thought.
“Alright… Lovey, could you show Harry his bedroom?” Fiona asked as she picked up the damp towel. “Mrs. Davies and I have a few more things to talk about, then we can get you fully settled, okay sweetheart?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gid nodded firmly, setting his tea down and giving his wife a mock salute, before he held out a hand to Harry. “Let’s go, Haz. Your room doesn’t have too much decoration yet, but… We can add whatever you want, yeah?”
Harry beamed up at him, gently taking his hand and letting him lead him up the stairs to the bedrooms.
He was really, really going to like it here.