Summary: Half blood? Wrong. Dumbledore discovers Harry was adopted and his birth parents were Muggles. Muggleborn? Wrong again. Harry's magic vanishes along with the charms that made him look like the Potters. Muggle? Help!

Rating: PG, subject to change

Warnings: None that I can think of, looking at my plan, but watch this space just in case

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Lovejoy, Sam and Charlotte belong to someone else – I don't know who, because not only are there Lovejoy books but ITV is running the show that the BBC did originally. Let's just say I don't own anything other than the plot, OK?

Author's Notes: YOU DON'T NEED TO BE FAMILIAR WITH LOVEJOY TO READ THIS FIC: even though it is technically a crossover, anything people unfamiliar with the show won't know will be explained to Harry anyway.
Set post-OotP, the fic will circle around Harry in the magical and Muggle worlds. To Albus lovers: our dear headmaster will have a main part. Yippee!
I know this first chapter's short. But I have a solid plan that is better plotted than the vast majority of my posted fics, so hopefully this one will be easier to write. (Is it just me or have I said that before …?)
I would have expanded on this chapter but really, I'm writing so many post-OotP fics it's unbelievably hard not to include the same stuff over and over again. So I kept the beginning brief. Plus, I wrote this quite late so if the sentence structure or whatever seems less-than-best then that's why.

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Who Do You Think You Are?

By Alexannah

Chapter One

Harry's eyes were closing as he counted down the seconds till midnight. At twelve seconds to he yawned. At seven seconds to he had to force his eyes open again. At five seconds to he had to wrench himself out of his sleepy state. On the stroke of midnight, he fell asleep anyway.

Harry didn't stir until his alarm went off the next morning. Groaning, he fumbled around for the clock to switch it off before it woke the already highly wound up Dursleys.

"Where are you?" he grumbled, raising his head off the pillow. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and stared around.

His vision was perfect. And he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Well, that's odd," he muttered, then upon spotting the alarm clock on the floor he stooped to pick it up.

A fringe of hair fell into his face and he froze. It wasn't black.

The alarm still going off but not having any attention paid to it, Harry hurried to the mirror faster than should have been humanely possible and took a good, long look at his reflection.

His scar was still on his forehead.

Nothing else was the same.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, frozen to the spot, before a banging on the door jerked him out of his shock. "BOY!"

The door burst open, but Harry hadn't moved.

"Turn that ruddy alarm off boy, or – What the -?"

Vernon and Petunia froze too, in the doorway, gaping at Harry. Petunia was the first to react.

"It's today. I forgot."

Harry rounded on her. "What did you forget???"

She flinched and stepped backwards. "Don't, it's not my fault! You looked so like that bloody Potter it was only natural I didn't have it in mind -"

"Didn't have what in mind?"

"Don't talk like that to your aunt, boy!"

"I'm not," Petunia said, shocking both Harry and Vernon into silence.

"Not what?" Harry said weakly when he found his voice.

"Your aunt."

The quiet that followed those words was the loudest Harry had ever experienced. Petunia finally broke it.

"Vernon, leave us please."

"But -"

"Please, Vernon."

Harry's uncle turned and stormed out of the room. Petunia shut the door sharply behind him.

"What do you mean, you're not my aunt?" Harry burst out. "My mum was your sister!"

"No she wasn't," Petunia said quietly. "Lily was my sister, yes, but she wasn't your mother."

"But – how -" For a minute Harry could only stammer.

"When you were born we were still on speaking terms … just. Your mother was one of her close friends, a Charlotte Cavendish. She died the day you were born and my sister adopted you. Her and her husband cast – spells – on you to make you look like their own."

Harry was stunned into silence. Petunia sat, patiently for her, waiting for him to take it in before she carried on.

"What they cast was supposed to stay on till your sixteenth birthday. I don't know who in your world knew about this, but no-one ever spoke of it to me after that. I can't really tell you much about your parents – I think they were engaged but the wedding was cancelled for some reason … I do know that your father was some kind of antiques dealer and that he was and probably is unaware of your existence …"

The only thing that registered with Harry was the present tense.

"You mean … my father's alive?" he said weakly. "I've got a living relative?"

"As far as I know he's alive."

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. "I need to write a letter."

"Harry …" Petunia said nervously.

"Can we talk later?" Harry said quietly. She nodded and left the room.

Professor Dumbledore -

Something really strange has happened – Don't worry, I'm not in danger – and I want an explanation. It figures you knew about it and didn't tell me.

Harry Potter

A little blunt perhaps, and not the most polite of letters, but it got the point across which was what Harry wanted. He sent Hedwig off with the note and sat down on his bed to wait.

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Petunia had tried to make Harry eat, but he wouldn't. He didn't move from his bed until later that night. Presents and cards had arrived from his friends but he hadn't even moved to open them.

It was getting dark when the doorbell rang, and Harry jumped off the bed. He paused and clutched the headboard for a moment – the sudden movement after the stillness had made him go dizzy – but as soon as it had passed he heard the voices downstairs cease and someone was making their way hurriedly up to his room.

"'Lo, Professor," Harry said quietly.

"Harry?" Dumbledore breathed, entering the room slowly. "Is that you?"

Harry nodded, slowly registering the shock on Dumbledore's face. "Can you explain this?" He gestured to his face.

Dumbledore spent several minutes just gaping at him, before shaking himself out of his shock. "I … Your aunt just told me … I can't …"

"You didn't know?" Harry said incredulously.

Dumbledore seemed to pull himself together, and closed his mouth. "I … I had no idea."

To his surprise, Harry believed he was telling the truth. Silence fell in the room and he sank slowly back onto his bed.

"I honestly had no idea," Dumbledore said again, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I assure you that I would have told you had I known you were adopted."

The word still crashed over Harry like a wave of cold water, shocking even though he was already wet through.

"Like you told me about the prophecy?" he said rather bitterly after a pause.

Dumbledore hung his head. "I suppose I deserve that."

"No you didn't," Harry mumbled. "Sorry."

"Did your aunt say anything about … your parents?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

"A bit," Harry murmured. "Enough to track my father down … with help." He looked up at his headmaster hopefully.

Dumbledore saw the look and a smile spread across his face. "I believe I could aid you with that. Tell me what you know …"

TBC …

AN: I know, short, and not my best work. I intend to go back and expend it a bit, and rewrite any bots that don't flow. But it's late now and I want to get this started!

Note about reviewing: Please do not review simply to tell me to update. I update when I can and that is the end to it. I have RL commitments and I'm only human – you can't expect my muse to always co-operate. Plus I have about a zillion other fics to work on. So if you review, make it worth the review alert please. And any flamers will regret the day they discovered fanfiction. Thank you for reading.