The Dursleys abuse little Harry & never tell him his surname is Potter. Unexpected people come to his rescue only to find out the boy can't or won't talk. Will they ever discover that this hurting child is The-Boy-Who-Lived?


Oh, dear God! Not even the plot bunny is mine. It belongs to that bloody muse. sobbing


It was one of George Canyon's songs, "My Name", which led me to the title. The rest is history. OH, and this chappie might surprise you at first. hihihi.

Dedication: this first chappie is dedicated to my lil' sister, who is truly, madly deeply in love with Harry Potter. :)

And You Didn't Even Know My Name

Ch.1. The Thunder Rolls and the Lightening Strikes

Dark, storm-predicting clouds covered the summer sky. The sound of boots on the dusty pavement made the boy shudder. He had not completed his chores and if his relatives found out, he was doomed. However, what he listened to was not a pace he was used to. Neither uncle Vernon's heavy steps, nor aunt Petunia's hopping, not even Dudley's staggering. No. This pace was smooth yet clear, tender yet demanding, easy yet sure. He couldn't recall to have heard any one walk like that before. But yet again he was only six and his memory might still play tricks on him. Suddenly, the walking stopped. It must have been very close to him now since he could feel a shadow lurking over him. He tried to open his eyes, but he was so tired and everything hurt so much.

The man looked down at the hurting child in front of him. The boy seemed to have unconsciously curled into a protective ball and was slightly rocking himself. He pushed the dead dog's body out of the way with his foot and crouched near the small rocking body. It was clear that the child was making efforts to stay awake. He gently lifted the boy's chin with delicate fingers, careful not to scare the already too frightened child. Cold wolf-like eyes bore deeply into emerald green ones and he prepared to ask the question that he knew would allow him to take the child from there. What he did not expect to see was so much fear and pain in those - otherwise innocent - eyes.

"Easy there. I am not going to hurt you, child."

His voice was low and smooth yet demanding, much like his walking. He seemed tall and frightening, but the look in his iron eyes has softened. It reassured the small boy in a strange way.

"You do not have to talk, child. It probably hurts too much anyway. Just shake your head or nod to my questions, all right? " he asked, but the meaning was that of an order.

The boy nodded. Soon enough the strange man asked his first question.

"The people I saw you earlier with were your relatives, weren't they?"

He nodded at the same time remembering where he had seen the man. It was earlier that day when he was blown by the wind on a tree branch while trying to escape Dudley's gang again. Said wind seemed to have also made Dudley roll on the hard pavement. The man's eyes had followed him long after Dudley and his gang had left, and hadn't seemed to leave him once he was down from the tree at his uncle's angry call. Somehow he was sure the man had also seen the beating he had received for hurting Dudley, before the arrival of Vernon's sister, Marge.

"You live with them right?"

Another nod.

"So your parents are dead?" the child's eyes shadowed, but he still managed to nod. Good. The man smiled to himself. That meant he had nothing more to do then ask one more question, the most important one, and the little boy with such extraordinary talent will be under his power.

"Mark my words, little one! I have it in my power to take you away, to offer you not only better accommodation, but a life you wouldn't even dare dream of. Nevertheless, it will not be done without your consent. Do you understand?"

The boy didn't quite get what the strange man was saying, but he knew better than to voice that out. So he merely stared. The man frowned at his lack of answer then sighed.

"Put it this way. I am here to take you with me if you will. I can give you almost everything: a room, cloths, food, toys… anything you wish for. All I want from you is to come with me. Now, will you do that, little one? Do you want to come with me?"

The frightened child looked at him as if he were an angel. The man was so kind, he thought to himself. He didn't even know Harry, yet he was offering Harry so many things and asked for such a simple thing in return. And not even once had he called Harry 'Freak' or 'Boy' or 'Burden', but 'Little one'. The boy's eyes filled with tears of gratitude towards the stranger. Yes, he had wished to leave Uncle Vernon's house several times, but thought of it as an impossible dream. A dream that now could so easily come true. And it depended only on his decision. So he did what the man wanted him to do. He nodded.

Very good. The stranger smiled to himself again, but this time he smiled a little towards the boy too. Then he proceeded to pick up the child.

The small boy felt a strong arm around his shoulders and another under his knees. Soon he was being gingerly lifted and brought close to the softness of the man's velvet cloak. A small whimper of pain escaped his lips as the blonde stranger started walking too fast. The man resumed his pace so that the boy wouldn't hurt too much, but his eyes darkened at the memory of what had brought the child in such a stated. Cold autumn-like winds started racing against angry thunders as he remembered.


Lucius Malfoy had business in Surrey. The Minister of Magic had sent him to collect Arabela Figg's taxes for the year since the squib had not come to pay yet. He was more than disappointed when he found out that the woman had been staying in hospital since January for cancer treatment. The neighbor tending for her cats told him that she was dying and there was small chance for her return.

Displeased with his findings he was slowly heading towards the apparition point when he felt it. A most powerful surge of magic, rivaling the Dark Lord's. He turned his head just in time to see a small boy performing one of the most amazing demonstrations of accidental magic he had ever seen. Fearing his attackers, the boy not only threw himself on a tree branch, but he also knocked them down. All in one strike. He doubted that his own son was capable of that. His eyes followed the child until they settled on his face. Lucius couldn't help but smirk at the boy's surprised expression as he watched his attackers run away.

Still, he was brought out of his musings by a strong voice calling the child down. A whale of a man took harshly a grab of the boy's far too thin arm as soon as he climbed down, dragging him into the house. Casting a spell on himself not to be seen, Lucius followed only to find he couldn't come closer than the window. There were wards on the house keeping him outside. Interesting but not unusual. He glanced inside through the opened window.

"Hurting Dudley, huh, freak? Displaying your abnormality around the neighborhood? What were you playing at? Didn't I tell you not to do anything freakish?"

Lucius watched from the shadows as the man went on with his tirade literally punching or slapping the child with each question. He watched in amazement as the man then got his belt out and whipped the small boy until he was on his knees on the floor. Silent tears fell along his red cheeks, but he made no sound. Lucius could feel his blood reaching boiling point. How dare a muggle – because the man had to be a muggle – raise his filthy hand against a wizard? He was close to doing something when he saw them stop.

"Marge must have come." Said the man as he heard a car drive into the curb.

"Go finish your chores, then weed the garden and repaint the fence! There will be not food for you this evening or the rest of the weekend for what you did to my son. Get what you need out of your cupboard because tonight you will be sleeping outside. Move!"

Sleeping outside? Your cupboard? Surely the boy wasn't sleeping in a cupboard? But Lucius' assumption was soon contradicted by the boy himself. He entered the cupboard and got out with a small and very thin blanket. Inside Lucius roared. How dared this filthy muggle treat a wizard child that way? He saw the boy being shoved outside with an order.

"And no more freaky business! Are we clear?"

"Yes uncle Vernon!" the boy mumbled between small sobs. He could barely walk and was bracing himself. Lucius was sure he had some broken ribs.

He watched the boy beginning to weed the garden when the other boy called Dudley approached holding a dog. He smiled evilly and released the dog, setting it to attack the working child. Lucius' hard gaze followed the dog as the small boy started running, making his cousin – Lucius supposed – roll with laughter. He saw it biting the boy, who fell to the ground. But the moment the dog let go of the boy's leg and scratched his forehead, barking loudly he wasted no time. He pulled the wand out of his cane and whispered "Anima mors!". It was a spell bordering between dark and light magic, used to send any human being in an induced coma. For animals however, it was lethal. Not being banned by the Ministry, there was no problem using it. Lucius became visible again and walked to the now hurting boy.

End Flashback

Another loud thunder rolled bringing Lucius back to present. It had started raining and the boy in his arms had managed to pass out. It would be of no use to take the boy to St Mungo. If anything that was as wrong as leaving him back in Surrey. It was clear that the boy had no other family if the Ministry had placed him with his muggle relatives and taking him to St Mungo was like handing the child back to the Ministry. But, Lucius smirked to himself, he knew someone who could both heal and house the child. With the place in mind, he Disappeared.


Severus Snape lit the fire shaking his head. It had been a while since he had seen such a strong summer storm. He glanced outside the window then shook his head again. It wasn't raining, it was pouring. As if an entire waterfall, bloodcurdling and whirling, was overflowing its depts for hours. It calmed him in a strange way. He was mesmerized by the rain when he heard a knock at the door. Who would come to him on a storm like that?

He opened the door and, as the lightening stroke, he was faced with the image of Lucius Malfoy caring a small boy in his arms.

"Wha-?"But whatever he said faded as another thunder roared.


That's all folks:) your turn now; what do you think? ;)