Norton made an unpleasant face. "Adoption parties. They're a real drag. We just wander around a room and adults talk to us about stuff. Sometimes a kid gets adopted, but mostly it's a waste of time. The food is always really weird too."
"Adoption parties? Who adopts us? Who get's adopted? What's quarantine?"
"Gosh, I don't know. Quarantine is just us waiting around to see if we get sick. Sometimes a kid gets something like chicken pox, only they get blue spots and the lights turn off every time they sneeze. If you go so long without getting sick, you get to go to the parties. I don't know who adopts us... wizards and witches I guess."
"How long does it usually take to get adopted?"
"I dunno. The younger kids usually get picked up pretty quick, though. I've been here three months, and I've been here the longest of our class," he said, fairly glowing with pride. He didn't seem to release that him being there so long meant no one wanted to take him home. Harry didn't have the heart to suggest it to him. Frankly, he was probably in the same boat. Who would want to adopt someone as old as him? If it was as Snape suggested, he would going off to school soon, so there really wasn't much point was there?
Breakfast ended, and while the nurses and guards escorted the children to their lessons, Miss Marilyn pulled him into a small office for a private chat. The office looked like an office, only it ran itself. The mail slot seemed to be having an ongoing battle with the filing cabinet, spitting out or swallowing pieces of parchment as they zipped through the air. A diagram on the wall depicted WYRA headquarters in its entirety with little colored dots that moved about it. Harry suspected each dot was a person, which seemed to be confirmed by the blue dot and the black dot that occupied the room they were currently residing in.
"Now Harry, I just wanted to take a moment to see how you are doing and explain a few things. You seemed be taking everything in stride so far, but I'm sure this must be disconcerting for you," she said.
"Oh...well, yes... I dunno. It's strange... kinda scary, but... not too strange really... not yet anyway. The kids all seem well taken care of, even if you do kidnap them."
The woman coughed into her hand at his last statement. "Yes, well... there are good reasons for that, I assure you. Most importantly, it's dangerous, for both the child and their non-magical families to suddenly have a witch or wizard in the family. Neither one understands what is happening and the outcome can be... tragic. Before WYRA was founded there were a lot of horror stories about wizarding children being abused or killed by parents who mistook their magic as a sign of demonic possession or the anti-christ. You understand, I hope, that all the children here, you included, were removed for your protection?"
He didn't like it.
Parents should at least be given a chance, he thought. The idea that his parents could possibly reject him because he had magic seemed absurd to him. He couldn't help but think they would have been delighted at the idea. At the same time, his parents had been artists. They were weird by most people's standards. The Dursley's certainly wouldn't have been a safe place for a child with any unusual talents. Would they have doted on Dudley if he'd started levitating things or turned into a owl or something? And of course, WYRA did seem to think they were doing what was best for the children.
Except for maybe Snape. How that callous, lying, greasy bastard could be allowed anywhere near children was beyond him.
"Of course, Ma'am."
"I'm glad you understand. Now, I know you didn't get a proper explanation about what we do here at WYRA when you came in. Basically, we're a transition center. Children who display magical abilities are brought here from all over Britain. First we register them as citizens of the Wizarding Community of Britain, they're given a thorough health exam, vaccinated- I'm sure you recall all those awful potions you had to drink when you first arrive?- and then held over a period of three weeks to make sure you don't get sick. Understand that despite the vaccines, a lot of children still get Blue Pox or the latest magical flu. This waiting period also helps children adjust to being away from their families, become used to magic, and the like. Our main purpose, however, is to place all the children here into proper wizarding homes."
"So that's what the adoption parties are for?"
"Ah, so you heard a little something about those?"
"I heard the younger children are the first to get adopted. I can't help but think I'll be here for a very long time."
She gave him a sympathetic smile.
"That's what I really wanted to talk to you about, Harold. I'm afraid the chances of you being adopted are... well, very slim. The good news, however, is that you'll be old enough to attend a wizarding school come September. Since you are old enough that childhood ailments are less of a concern, we'll let you skip the quarantine period and attend some of the adoption parties- just to give you a fair opportunity- but if you're not adopted, then when you go to receive your education, you'll become a ward of the Community and under the guardianship of your school's administration. Do you understand?"
"If I'm not adopted by a wizard family, I'll be adopted by a school... Do I get to keep my last name then?"
"Of course. I must say, young man, you're taking this all rather well."
Harry gave her a sardonic smile. "I'm used to big, sudden changes in my life."
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It wouldn't be until later that evening, as she settled down to more carefully review Harold James Potter's file, that Miss Marilyn fully appreciated exactly what he meant. His records played out like war-time drama. His parents turned out to be wizards, which would have been a major benefit to his future, if it weren't for the fact that they had both been very high on You-Know-Who's Most Wanted list. They had been in league with Dumbledore, James Potter was even an auror, but they had pulled out of the country and the fight shortly after their son was born.
No one knew what had happened to them. There were apparently some reports that they had gotten to France, but after that there was no documented information. Snape's report suggested they had hidden themselves from the wizarding world completely, living as muggle artists in a studio apartment in Cologne. Harry didn't know anything about it either.
They had died with their secrets, and without anyone knowing Harry was a wizard, he had been returned to England to live with his muggle relatives. And what a wretched lot they seemed to be! Padlocks on the bedroom door, no formal education, and Dr. Helm found evidence of malnutrition!
It was cases like this that made Miss Marilyn proud to have supported You-Know-Who during the war and taken on a position at WYRA. Who knows what would have happened to poor Harold? Raised by abusive relatives to be an ordinary muggle, never comprehending the strange things that followed him through his life. On the off chance the former government had spotted him, he would have been thrust into society without a leg to stand on, and likely failed miserably into the dredges of society.
With WYRA hard at work though, no child was ever left hungry or floundering for guidance. They would raise alltheir children to be obedient, productive, proud members of society. How fortunate Harold was, how all wizarding children were, to have such a compassionate ruler as You-Know-Who!
Four days passed in a routine that was the same as the first morning Harry had arrived. He did pretty much everything the younger children did, except lessons, which he took to studying on his own (he hadn't had any formal schooling since he was eight, but he'd done a lot of Dudley's math homework at the Dursley's and knew a fair bit of Geography), and playtime he usually spent reading "Witches, Wizards, and Whatevers; a Practical Guide to Modern Culture in Wizarding Britain". Miss Marilyn had given the book to him so he would stop bugging everyone else with questions.
The book was pretty vague and its references obscure or inaccurate, but Harry got a general idea of the Wizarding World. Non-magical people were called muggles, and since he was born from muggles he was called a muggleborn. Not exactly common, but not really rare. Wizards and witches who had wizarding parents were called purebloods. Harry wondered what they called a magical person born from a muggle and a witch or wizard. There was no reference for it, so Harry assumed it just didn't occur very often.
According to his book, even though wizards lived amongst or beside muggle communities, there wasn't any real interaction. Wizards had their own government, economy, education, and culture completely separate from Muggles. As far as the Muggle world knew, there was no such thing as magic. In fact, it was apparently illegal to do business with or marry a muggle. It would explain why there weren't any muggle/wizarding children.
Otherwise, the Wizarding World ran a bit like the muggle world, only everything seemed to involve magic. They had radios (although not televisions oddly enough), newspapers (the photographs actually moved!), and all sorts of magazines (He was curious as to what Potion's Weekly involved). There were sporting events (Quidditch was apparently the national sport of choice), a wide selection of hobbies, festivals, and Halloween and Christmas had their own particular traditions. While none of them looked familiar, many of them did look like fun. The government was a cross between a monarchy and a bureaucracy, and a representative body called the Wizengamot that didn't really seem to have a purpose. He also couldn't figure out who was the head of the government, and only knew that it wasn't a king or queen or some other form of royalty. They referred to this person as You-Know-Who, but since Harry really didn't know who it was very frustrating.
He was almost to the chapter that went into magical vacation spots when Saturday arrived. All the boys spent an extra long time grooming themselves and their younger friends in the bathroom. There were light hearted bets about who might get picked that day. After a particularly energetic breakfast, everyone went to lessons, but groups of four or five would routinely be called out of class. When they returned their hair was trimmed or curled or modestly styled. Harry got a turn as well, and in the shower room he was set on a stool. His barber, an elderly man with neatly trimmed mustache, took one look at his wild mop and declared it hopeless.
As soon as lunch was through, most of the boys and girls were gathered up into two lines. About a dozen remained behind, some of them marking their fellow's departure with a distinct pout, and went on to playtime and study period. Harry and the children were escorted by two nurses and two guards to a room that he had never seen before. It was a small room with plain white walls and wood flooring. The only thing there was a large cabinet standing directly in the middle of the room. It was carved of dark wood and had a small brass nob shaped like a lion, and as Harry moved closer he could make out symbols burned along the outer edges.