Warnings: This story will
- be completely in Harry's PoV
- change/ignore/use any canon information (events/character's personality) from both series
- not contain any sort of romance but will concentrate on family and friendship
- not have super ninjas/ wizards i.e) one faction won't be greater than the other
- be updated very slowly (I have other priorities in life)
- be prone to constant random editing until completed in the very far future.
If any of that annoys you, then this story is not for you.
"Whoever you are, or whatever it is that you do, when you really want something all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it."
The Alchemist, Paul Coelho.
Harry sneezed and swatted at the dust swirling close to his face. He scrubbed at the persistent dirt patch on the small round window. Concentrating on the repetitive motions, he was completely taken aback when the spot disappeared and the clear glass reflected his tired eyes.
He turned away and carelessly threw the rag in to the water bucket by his leg.
Harry looked around, wishing he could feel satisfied at the progress he had made with the cleaning. But looking at the clean surfaces, Harry wished there was more to do as he sat on one of the larger boxes.
He shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position on the box and listened to the footsteps, voices and other noises from the lower levels of Privet Drive.
But his stillness allowed his mind to wander. Instead of cataloguing the things that still needed to be sorted and thrown out, Harry remembered his previous summer and the cleaning that never seemed to end.
Irritated at his memories, Harry rushed to the corner, opened one of the stacked boxes and stared at Dudley's gaudy baby clothes. Knowing that he'd get into trouble if he damaged the 'precious' treasures he relabelled the box and put it in one of the cleaned out corners.
As he reached for the next box, he stumbled across a loose floorboard and banged against a tin which fell open with a metallic clang and spilled papers on to the floor.
Harry knelt and gathered the fallen papers absently noticing that they were his aunt's pre-marital documents and papers. Birth certificate, school report cards, certificates of achievements. He snorted as he read the school teacher's not-so-flattering comments about his aunt.
Harry froze as he caught sight of the name Lily Evans on one of the papers still on the floor. Ignoring the mess he made, Harry stood grabbing the paper and examined it's contents in confused disbelief.
To whomsoever it may concern,
As part of the last will and testament of Mr. Gabriel P. Evans and Mrs. Orihime K. Evans, we hereby acknowledge that the custody of one Lily M. Evans be transferred to the care of Mr. Mark R. Evans and Mrs. Penelope Evans as of January 20th1961.
(William & Harold's Law Offices, London)
Harry gently tucked the letter and it's related papers into his pocket and stuffed everything else back in to the tin. Unconcerned about the noise he was making, Harry rushed out of the attic, though the empty hallways to his bedroom.
Harry sagged onto his old cot, took out the letter and stared at it thoughtfully recalling an old photograph he had seen when he was younger. A photograph of a very young Aunt Petunia with her parents. The only memorable aspect of the photo had been the blonde man with familiar green eyes.
If this letter is true, Harry tried to keep himself calm. Then that blonde man, Petunia's father, and this Gabriel Evans, my actual grandfather, were brothers. But it leaves so many questions about my grandparents! What made them leave mum?
A soft hoot from the corner of the room interrupted his frustrated thoughts. Still clutching the letter, Harry walked over to Hedwig's cage relieved at the sound since Hedwig had been silent ever since they'd returned to Privet Drive. Even Hermione had noted Hedwig's unusual silence in her letters.
Hedwig stared at him and hooted once more, almost sounding curious.
"I found something," Harry said, wincing at the roughness of his voice. He swallowed hoping to ease his throat after days of not speaking out loud. "Something I wish I could talk to with someone."
He clutched the letter tightly as he immediately pictured Sirius's laughing face. Then Harry snorted as his mind created an image of himself standing by a large family tree, like the one at Grimmauld Place, obsessively placing names and making connections to names he'd never heard of before. "He'd laugh if I sorted my family tree like that. But he'd have helped."
He glanced back at the papers noting the law firm's address and telephone number on the paper as a good place to start searching for answers. Harry looked up at Hedwig, "The only option I see is to contact these people and ask about mum's transfer to Petunia's family. It sounds doable, right?"
Hedwig didn't move but continued to stare straight at him.
"It actually makes being stuck here worth it, because I can use the telephone. Hermione would probably call it a silver lining for my misfortunes." Harry attempted a small laugh but couldn't quite manage more than a small croak which made Hedwig shuffle closer to the bars of the cage.
"But it's the only option I have. Even though it's not very reliable and I know I shouldn't get my hopes up I..." Harry sighed and pressed a palm against his forehead, closing his eyes wearily as a surprised face disappeared behind a veil.
Hedwig flapped her wings noisily.
Harry flinched and opened his eyes, worried about Hedwig's odd behaviour. When he opened the cage, Hedwig swooped out and flew to his shoulder. Before he could turn, Hedwig nuzzled against his cheek.
"I'm fine," Harry said and patted her head awkwardly. He looked down at the letter in his hand pointedly. "I'm actually better than fine. But should I even bother with this? There's probably nobody out there waiting for me..."
Self-doubt clouded his mind and for one brief moment Harry wanted to put the letter back in the tin and forget it ever existed. Because there was no point hoping.
Not for him.
But Harry squashed that thought and went back to the reasons he needed to go through with the call. If I don't do this now, when will I ever have the chance? What if I actually succeed?
Feeling his resolve harden, Harry decided to go through with the phone-call as soon as he had the chance. If the call amounted to nothing, then he'd give up and carry on with his life.
Everything depended on that phone call.
A/N: Harry Potter cross-overs are an interesting challenge. This story has came from a lot of thinking and waiting for someone else to do it first.