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Statement of the Archivist Regarding His Nephew, Harry Potter

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It had been quite the year for Jon and Martin. Well, just over a year. They had arrived in the highlands about a year prior, but much had happened in that time. They had confessed their love to one another. They had adopted a kitten named the Cadet. Martin had successfully stopped the end of the world which led to the death of Johan Magnus. Jon had become a favorite teacher at the local highschool with his interesting history lessons and not so subtle knowledge on many topics. Things were beginning to look up for the happy couple.

They had both decided to reconnect with the Archival Staff. Basira listened quietly to their explanations; she didn’t like them, but she listened. Daisy was relatively human again. She was still an avatar, but now she was in control. After the Buried, she had loved Jon like a little brother and just wanted him to be happy (yes, she gave Martin the shovel talk). Melaine and Georgie were harder to talk to, but eventually came around.

Jon had figured out how to survive. Well he didn’t, Martin came up with the ideas offhand and Jon tried them out. Instead of statements, he read horror novels and he Asked people Questions like, “Where did you get those shoes?” or “How was this painting made?”, harmless questions that he could learn things from. Instead of being an all powerful Fear God, the Eye had become a petulant toddler vying for attention.

Outside, the October weather is getting colder everyday, and to warm up Martin is at the stove, chopping vegetables for a simple chicken rice soup. At this moment, Jon is grading essays about the Period of the Enlightenment: the causes of it and the consequences it brought. The Cadet is curled up in Jon’s lap, purring, content, as her ears are scratched absentmindedly. There is a silence in the house, but it’s warm and filled with the sound of a knife against a cutting board and the crackling of a woodfire.

Jon and Martin are a very cute couple, yes, but they are not the only important people in this story. For a few hours drive away, in Surrey England, lives an orphan by the name of Harry Potter. He is not living as comfortably as the Sims-Blackwoods, but is instead scared for his life. He talked back today. He is sitting in the dark, in the cupboard under the stairs, crying while biting his hand in order to not make a sound. He is 8 years old and already knows more fear than some adults. He was beaten within an inch of his life about an hour ago, and he knows it will hurt more tomorrow. He tries to distract himself by looking through an old book or Authurian legends he got from the friendly school librarian.

Harry is very bright, but he knows so little. He doesn’t know joy very well and the feeling of being cared for is foriegn enough that he is confused by it. He knows that his situation is not likely to change, but that isn’t actually true. That’s when he hears the knocking on the front door.

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Minerva McGonagall is disgusted by the Durselys. She has been watching them for nearly 8 years as they treat Harry as an afterthought, a burden. But Albus Dumbledor had been very clear. He needed a blood relative. Well. She would find one

She found him on the first day; “Jonathan Sims (born 1987)” the book read. “Born of Eliza Potter (1959 - 1990) and Jack Sims (1956 - 1989). Raised by his grandmother (1930 - 2014)”. Minerva was intrigued. She remembered Miss Eliza Potter. A young Gyffindor who had been better suited for Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Quick witted and protective of her own. Maybe her son would be the same. So she looked closer.

Not many things surprised Minerva anymore, after having the Marauders as students she wasn’t sure what could. This idiot of a man, however, somehow surprised her. He had so many negative run-ins with the wizarding world that she wasn’t sure he would take a magic child. Nearly eaten by a cursed book, kidnapped not once or twice, but three times. Twice by werewolves and once by enchanted manikins. The poor man must have been terrified by being cursed himself; a curse of knowledge. She tried scrying to know where he was and found him in the classroom of a Scottish High School. He seemed to be in the middle of a lecture about tea and coffee being the beginning of ideas in Europe. She loved him immediately.

Professor Mcgonagall took to watching Jonathan for the next week. She found that he taught year 11 history, had a boyfriend by the name of Martin, they had a kitten named the Cadet, and that he had an affinity for questions. Once sure of Jon, Minerva watched Martin for a day. He was a poet that made excellent tea and was cursed with loneliness. She liked him too. She trusted that they would take care of Harry no matter what. Once sure of the future parents, the Professor looked for an opening. About a week later, she found it.

The Dursleys had locked poor Harry into his cupboard, beaten and scared. McGonagall knew she had to act or she would never forgive herself. So she went to the Dursley house and knocked on the door. When Vernon Dursley answered she did not yell, she did not curse, she did not use magic.

She back handed him across the face, walked inside, and knocked on the cupboard door, telling Harry to pack his things and that he would be leaving with her. She turned again towards Vernon, who was now with his wife and said these words.

“You have not only failed Harry as parents, you have abused him senselessly! It is not only a horrific show of human behavior, but also illegal! I am taking Harry to his only other relatives and I KNOW he will be better than you!” Minerva McGonagall was furious. She wanted nothing more than to make them feel the pain they had induced on poor Harry, but the cupboard door was creaking open and she wished not to scare him.

Harry looked lost. Harry was lost. His whole life was flipping upside down before his eyes. This scary, Scottish woman had not only slapped Uncle Vernon, but yelled in his face about being a bad parent. No one had ever done that before. Not for Harry. He was shocked.

Harry looked at Uncle Vernon who was red in the face, but a slap mark clear on his cheek. Aunt Petunia was at his side looking scared and confused.

“He doesn’t have any other relatives. Who are you talking about?” Aunt Petunia questioned shakely. There was a glint in the Scottish woman’s eyes as if she knew something that the other woman did not. Harry has a feeling that she does.

“He does have a blood relative. One that had been too young to take Harry at the time. But he is ready now.” With that, Minerva Mcgonagall took Harry Potter’s empty hand and walked him out the door and off to his new family