"Good. Now if you'll just write out the disclaimer…"

"Don't make me write it out, Abbot. Please don't be write it out Abbot! Don't make me do it Abbott, please DON'T MAKE ME DO IT! ABBOT! ABBOT! ABBOT!

"What's the matter now?"

"…There's no paper."

DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Nope. Not a bit.


Six-year old harry Potter sat at the door step of the Dursley household.

This by itself was not necessarily odd.

Save the fact that it was the middle of the night.

And he was in the middle of a spring thunderstorm.


He shivered in the cold rain and flinched as the thunder shook the foundation under him.

"Stupid Dursley's."

Not the first time he'd been locked outside during the night. Nor out in a storm. Nor was it the first of many unfortunate incidences.

He smiled bitterly.

The only thing he had to keep him warm were Dudley's old cast offs.

And the thoughts of what he would do to the Dursley's if given the opportunity. And if the thought he could get away with it.

The cloths stuck to his skin in the rain, and the cold made his flesh so pale and numb he looked like a dead body. A living skeleton really, given his enforced eating habits.

That wasn't an isolated incident either he knew. Many, too many people acted like he didn't exist. Literally looked though him.

Teacher completely overlooked his cast off cloths and malnourished form to fuss over a child with a scraped knee. Occasionally someone would notice him, say something to him, and the next day act like it never happened.

It was something to ponder later, he decided. After he managed to get his revenge. Or freedom.

For now, he needed to thing about how to get back inside.

Perhaps the roof?

There might be a chance the bathroom window or the toy room window might be unlocked. Unlikely, but it was worth a shot.

The access ladder was still in the back yard. Vernon had left it out on account of the T.V. antenna needing to be adjusted regularly. Which Harry always did.

Moving quickly so he might get out of the cold rain sooner, he hurried around the house and up the ladder.

Now the tricky part.

because the roof was wet, he would have to edge along the top carefully to avoid slipping and falling off the roof. And so, scooting along on his knees, he paused at the antenna, grabbing it for balance.

He then realized a fatal flaw in his plan.



And all was dark.


Some distance away, in a hidden magical school in case you didn't know.

In Headmaster Dumbledore's office atop a shelf, a small, spinning, red glass marble spinned happily along a small dish.

That is, until it stopped spinning.

Turned black.

Cracked in half.

Burst into flame.

And released smoke about the room.

All the while emitting noises the normally silent bauble didn't make.

Da-dum, Da-dum, Da-dum.

Ba- da- da- dum. Click. Click.

It should be noted though that it had been Fawkes burning day yesterday, so the room already smelled of smoke.

And on the shelf said bauble was surrounded by countless other baubles. And it didn't really stand out. And it was the middle of the night. And Dumbledore was asleep in the room two floors below.

Oh, and he was senile. Really senile.


When harry began to awaked, it was to the sound of voices he didn't know. American at that.

"Come on, Gomez! Can I keep him? Oh please, oh please, oh PLEASE?"

"I don't know, Fester old boy. He's a big responsibility. You have to feed him, cloths him, take him for walks, let him outside on the neighbor's lawn to do him business..."

"Oh, please Gomez! I've always wanted my own little mutant to terrorize! And I've never seen anyone take as much electricity as him and walk away besides myself! It's not like his family wanted him. They left him out on the doorstep for anyone to take!"

At the word 'terrorize' Harry had tensed up, knowing the term all too well in reference to himself.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to a black room.

Mind you, light did shine in through the window… sort of.

Black curtains. Black wall paper. Black furniture. A black blanket thrown over the bed he rested in. A dismembered hand sitting on his chest…

And two men.

One had dark Mediterranean skin, slicked back hair, a pencil thin mustache, a dreary black suit and was smoking a cigar like he'd just won the lottery.

The smile on his face said he would sell your grandmother's soul to the devil for a quarter and throw the quarter away, feeling satisfied.

The other man was stocky, bald with bags under his eyes, wearing a dirty brown over coat. His skin was as pale as his own, harry realized as he made a quick inspection of his own. Mind you he'd already been pale, but the two of them took it to new levels.

The smile on this man's face could only be demented glee.

The bald one rushed forward into Harry's face.

"Welcome to the family, son! Just call me Dad!"

He grabbed Harry's hand.

Of course harry didn't see the buzzer in his knew 'Dad's' hand. Nor did he see that electric car battery strapped to his back.



Also, Harry would never realize his accidental magic would react as well.

By shocking his 'Dad' right back.







Gomez wiped a tear from his eye at the heartwarming moment.

"Welcome to the family."