There was a silence, and he wondered if Kyle hadn't taken the hint and left. But no, the man merely moved closer towards the window to see what he was looking at. There was a look of surprise on his face, and then understanding as he looked towards the young man.
"You can see them, can't you?" he said.
"What? The horses? Yeah, my eyes aren't that bad."
"Harold, those aren't horses. They're thestrals. Beasts of the underworld. Only someone who has seen death up close can see them."
"..."
"Harold-"
"Harry. My name is Harry."
"Harry, then. Why are you so against getting adopted?"
"I've been adopted before, thank you very much. I'd rather be on my own now."
"Ah..." They said nothing for a moment, Harry pondering thestrals and death and family and how they were all connected in his life. He had almost forgotten Kyle, when the man put his hand on his shoulder. "If you should ever change your mind, you can reach either Robert or me here."
He handed Harry a business card. It read:
ROBERT ALLEN REIGER
ATTORNEY AT LAW
CRIMINAL DEFENSE AND CIVIL SUITES
165 TAPERTY RD, LONDON
"I'm his personal assistant, so if you write there you'll get to me first."
Harry studied the card and then Kyle, more than a little baffled. "Thank you, sir, but... why are doing this? I'm a complete stranger and you've no benefit in befriending me."
"I've got a feeling about you, Harry. I think you're going to make something out of yourself. I've seen all sorts in my line work, and I can just tell. You've got character. It glows out through those pretty eyes of yours. Ten or fifteen years from now Robert is going to be kicking himself for missing out on the opportunity to adopt you. I'd bet my wand on it."
Harry blushed, not expecting the compliment and unsure if should believe the man. He certainly didn't feel special. He felt tired, small, and a little bit lonely. Kyle gave him an encouraging smile, a pat on the shoulder, and wandered off to find his husband? boss? Harry gave the business card a long speculative look and then slipped it into the folds of his shirt.
For the remaining hour and a half, Harry remained undisturbed by the other wizarding couples and eventually his gaze returned to the thestrals. Gradually, the adults left, a few of them taking a child in hand as they went, but most of the children were left and started to join him by the windows.
"Hey, Harry," began Norton, tilting his head curiously. "What are you looking at?"
"Thestrals," Harry said automatically.
"What's a thestral?"
Now Harry wasn't sure what to say. Could he really explain something as sinister as a horse that only one who has seen death can see them to an eight-year old? He didn't like the idea that he was ten and could see them.
"It's a type of bird. Those little brown birds hoping in and out of the grass."
"Oh...I thought those were just sparrows."
Edgar, the smallest of the boys there, stepped close to Harry looking off towards the meadows. He looked up to the older boy and gave him a confused looked, but said nothing.
It was an epiphany for Harry. The realization that death did not care where and on who it landed, and it did not care who it left behind. It was a scary, horrible truth. It made Harry feel older and more prepared for his life to come, and he was glad it had been revealed to him.
1) Hello. My name is Harry. You are conceited, shallow, and pompous. You best bet is to adopt a cat, not a little boy.
2) That's no reason to gape, you codfish.
Author's note: Many of the people who are in this first book of the series (yes, I intend to have a series with all seven years of Harry's life at Hogwarts, just like Rowling) will seem superfluous since they don't contribute to current plot much, but almost all of them with reappear in later books, including several of the orphans and Kyle and Robert (who does regret not adopting Harry when he had the chance). Have a bit of patience.
Also, if Harry seems a little OC, well, he would be given the circumstance. Rowling's Harry was raised by the Dursley's since he was one, but my Harry lived with his parents in Germany until he was eight and then lost them. So I think of him having more self confidence having grown up with his loving parents, and he understands his circumstances with the Dursley's was abnormal and not himself. His view of the wizarding world at the moment is that his life is better than what it was at the Dursley's, but not as good as the life he had with his parents, so he might come off as a bit cynical at times and then completed enchanted at others.
Please review, I will reply if you have questions (that don't reveal plot twists or future events in the story). Sorry, though, I don't take request in plot. I have a definite picture of how this story will flow and the events that transpire are all related so they cannot be altered.
P.S. For those people whom it bothers, yes there will be some yaoi couples like Kyle and Robert occasionally (and some lesbians every so often as well), but nothing explicit and most of the characters in my story, including Harry, are straight. There's no male pregnancy anywhere in the series. And in case you're worried, Voldemort is still his delightfully evil (albeit mellower and much less deranged) self, without resorting to pedofilia.
Edgar did not return with Harry and the other boys that Saturday. Neither did one of the six year old girls, but he had never met her. When they returned to WYRA headquarters, Harry was surprised to find that the boy's bed and trunk were gone, along with all his crayon drawings. None of the other boys questioned this, and in fact seemed to think Edgar had some how beat them in a game and cursed him good naturedly. For Harry, his disappearance was devastating. That he or anyone of the children could simply disappear and not a trace of them remain...
When everyone else had gone to sleep, Harry avoided his bed like the plague, feeling some foul sort of enchantment had been placed on it to make him forget Edgar, forget his parents, forget himself. He spent the entire night drawing sketches of the missing child with colored pencils and crayons in the blank pages of his student notebook. When he was done, he tore out the pages and hid them in his book, along with the business card Kyle had given him. The parallels between his new secret sketches and his old ones made him simultaneously nostalgic and terrified. Surely his new life could in no way resemble the drab, bitter existence he'd had at the Dursley's?
The next day proceeded as all the days previously had in a comfortable routine. At night, Harry lingered behind the other boys, pretending to stay up late reading until they all had gone to bed and were magically enchanted into sleep. He would place stuffed animals underneath his covers and hide in the bathroom until the final bed check of the evening around nine o'clock, and then spend an hour or so sketching the other boys, or the staff, or the Reigers, or anyone he could remember and then hide them away in his book. Then he'd strip his bed of the pillow and comforter and sleep on the floor. His sleep was light as it had always been at the Dursley's, and he always woke earlier than the other boys so that he might make his bed and start his bathroom routine early without anyone being the wiser.
Life continued in this strange cross of comfortable routine and intense paranoia for three weeks. There were more adoption parties. Harry went ignored and was glad for it. He never saw Kyle or Robert Reiger at any of them. He wondered sometimes if they had adopted Edgar or perhaps the little girl he'd never met. Norton was finally adopted to a congenial pair of witches whose daughter had left for Redbridge and were looking for another child to open their home and lives to. Harry was happy for Norton, who had seemed as thrilled to be adopted as the witches had been to adopt him. At night, though, he would think the blue room had begun to look so very empty.
A boy named Alfred turned up one day shortly afterward. He was the first black boy Harry had seen at WYRA, and he was also the first child he had seen cry for his mommy. He cried all day, wouldn't touch his food or take a nap, and nothing the staff or the other boys did seemed to comfort him. When Alfred woke up the next morning, he didn't shed a single tear and ate his breakfast with as much enthusiasm as the other boys. Harry hadn't remembered feeling so alone since he was eight.
June rolled around, although Harry wasn't sure of the exact date, and Miss Marilyn pulled Harry into her office for a chat. At first, he was terrified at the possibility of her finding out he hadn't been sleeping in his bed and that she was going to take his sketches away. It didn't take long for her to alleviate his fears.
"Professor Snape is going to be dropping by tomorrow," she began, pulling out a file with his name on it. Harry frowned, thinking of the greasy bastard who had tricked him and stolen his sketchbook. "He's going to administer a magical aptitude test to determine your level of magic. Depending on how high you rank will determine which school you will be going to. Either way, things are going to get a bit hectic for you. After the test, you'll only have about a day or two before you're sent to your new home. You'll attend a school sponsored summer prep class with some other muggleborn children, and then attend proper classes with pureblood children at the start of term. Usually September first. Do you have any questions?"
Harry thought for a moment.
"Will it hurt? The test, I mean."