IMPORTANT Author's Note: This story is a transfer from another profile (FenrisWinter) I'd been running as something of an experiment. However I have determined it would be better to post it here instead. Also, I'm sure many of you are wondering why I'm posting another story when my other stuff is incomplete? Simply put, my imagination is not such that I can work on just one story without losing my mind. Thus, I have numerous different stories on the go at any one time. I am hopeful that I will eventually finish all of them, though it may be a long time in coming. This is one of those stories which has been consuming my time when my imagination refuses to work on one of my Primary Projects.

Warnings: (I know a lot of you prefer to know what you're in for from the start so here we go.)
-SOME Sad Subject Matter (*Should* reduce over time)
-Harry/Hermione (I bet you all realized that anyways...)
-Ron (and *maybe* Molly) Bashing (Mild to Medium Level)
-Dumbledore Bashing
-Foul Git! But Not (E)vil! Snape. (Which is to say, he's a class A Jerkweed but he's not a happy, willing and utterly unrepentant Death Eater like in some stories)
-*Possible* (Though Unconfirmed) background Fem/slash relationship(s)
-*Possible* (Though Unconfirmed) Poly/Multi Relationship in future. (Unlikely, but figured I should warn you just in case it happens)
-Mild Offensive Language
-Mild Substance Use (Alcohol, Cigarettes) [Probably Background Characters]
-*Possible* Mild Religious Tones/Themes

That's all the warnings I could think of for this. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy these chapters. There's only about 5 of them right now, but I hope to update this story in the future.

-Rhys (AKA FenrisWinter)

Prologue:

John Cowen sighed at the clattering ring of the bell, and inserted his bookmark back into the paperback he was trying to read before pushing to his feet.

He was tired and sore after a long afternoon working in the church's garden, and had the unfortunate duty of sitting night watch today, when all he really wanted to do was finally get some sleep.

He had been hoping to pass the time by reading, however it seemed luck wasn't with him tonight. Usually those who ventured to the church in the late hours were kind enough to knock instead of ringing the aged building's obnoxious service bell. This was just common courtesy after all when approaching a building in which people might be sleeping.

He stretched his aching back and muttered such complaints to himself as he made his way into the chapel.

The chapel itself was currently only dimly lit, thanks to the tending of Sister Clare, who was standing, her brow furrowed in confusion as she examined the door from where she stood near the altar. Usually anyone who approached tended to signal at the door more than once when it wasn't immediately opened. He quirked an eyebrow at her and got a shrug in response.

He continued to the door before opening it with a jerk. The hinges tended to seize in this kind of weather. He gazed out into the darkness, but saw nothing beyond the dark lawn and the dimly lit street beyond it, as well as curling eddies of mist. The evening fog common in this part of the world in November.

He sighed, it was probably just bored kids causing trouble. Likely because their parents had forgotten to imbue them with respect for other people, he told himself grumpily. He was about to close the door, on such notions and the night outside, when he very briefly glanced down, and paused.

At his feet, there on the cold stone steps of the church, was what could only be a child, wrapped in blankets. Two letters pinned to his quilt with a safety pin. A small bundle of nappies on the ground beside him.

As the baby blinked up in consternation at him, he in turn stared down at it. It was after all, not everyday, that one found a child on their doorstep. Somewhat telling of John Cowen's cynical mindset, his first thoughts were therefore Someone's been watching too much TV.

The second thought which eventually permeated his brain was to get the little thing off the cold doorstep, which resulted in him hurriedly bending down and scooping the lot of it into his arms and quickly closing the door with a snap.

Sister Clare who had been watching him with interest from afar noted the bundle in his arms, and perhaps guessing what it was likely to hold, hurried over. "Is that— A baby!" She cried in shock and outrage. "Someone left a baby on our doorstep? At this time of night in November, what are they insane?" she muttered in a more sedate tone when he grimaced.

He nodded. "So it would seem." he paused considering what to do next, after all it was not like he had prepared for such an eventuality. "Sister, would you be so kind as to wake the Vicar?" John requested stoically, looking down into the little one's face as it considered him.

Clare hesitated for a moment, more from a desire to watch over a lost child, than out of reluctance to do as requested. But making up her mind, she nodded shortly to him and scurried off into the church residence.

Cowen followed her as far as the residence's kitchen before sitting himself with the child at the table. It occurred to him as he sat there listening to the murmur of the sister and the grumble of the Vicar, that his night had just got even longer. He resolved to make a cuppa' for the lot of them once the Vicar came in.

He sighed in exhaustion, glancing at the clock. Better make that two cuppas…

Tobias Nathaniel Bishop, a man who was in fact barely affiliated with any specific religion, let alone holder of a coveted rank in the ministry, pulled his car up to the curb across from the church. Upon shutting off the engine, he opened the door and stepped out onto the cold pavement.

He had been glad of the car's heater, feeble though it sometimes was. The moisture combined with the cold November air sucked the warmth from one's skin more quickly than a person might think this far south.

On days like today, when the mist lay heavy over the landscape he preferred to be indoors. Not that his duties ever really allowed for that.

He'd quite gladly have been still sleeping soundly in his bed, or tending chores in his house but he'd received a call in the early hours, from his ever eager contact in child services. Apparently this case was right up his alley. Whatever that might mean, he noted with a shake of his head as he paced up to the church's doorway and knocked firmly.

He stood shifting from foot to foot, breathing on his fingers to warm them and creating a small cloud of vapour with his efforts, only having to wait about a minute before the door cracked open. The man who was standing in the doorway was dressed as a lay brother, and looked him up and down before nodding soberly. "You'd be the government man?" He asked.

He nodded, presenting his credentials. The man looked over the documents for a time before standing aside. "Right, this way, the child's in the residence." Tobias motioned him to lead the way and trailed behind the man as they passed through the chapel and into the housing unit.

As they padded into the kitchen, he caught his first glimpse of what it was that had him up this early in the morning. The Vicar sat at the table, a sister standing at his shoulder, bouncing slightly on her heels as she cradled what could only be a child in her arms. She fussily proffered a small bottle of milk to the child who was suckling it contentedly.

The Vicar, a man who looked to be in his late fifties, was the first of the pair to spot their approach and pushed to his feet. "Ah, hello. I'm Vicar Davis, you'd be the investigator Child Services said they'd send along?"

Tobias nodded, and because he was an honest sort he clarified a bit. "It would be more accurate to say I'm the one they contract to handle these kinds of jobs, yes." He agreed affably.

The Vicar quirked a small smile. "You mean they stick you with all the weird ones." It was more a statement than a question.

Tobias had to chuckle at that, it was as accurate as anything. "Yeah pretty much"

The Vicar nodded thoughtfully, "Well, this certainly is a strange one." He agreed. "I didn't realize people still did this sort of thing. Leaving children on church doorsteps I mean." He shook his head in disgust.

Tobias gave him a grim sort of smile. "They don't, or at least they're not supposed to, the only semi-legal way to drop off a child that I know of is at a hospital." That didn't seem to comfort the man much but he nodded understanding.

"If that's not odd enough, then take these letters, weird ones those." The Vicar proffered the items in question.

"Perhaps I might see the boy first?" He requested gesturing to the small bundle in the woman's arms.

The Vicar nodded permission and the sister reluctantly handed over the baby into his arms, where he cradled him gently. He murmured soothingly to the child and brushed his hair aside a bit eliciting a smile from the child.

After a minute of consideration he offered the child back to the sister who took him gratefully. "May I see the letters now?"

He examined the offered sheets in detail. The first letter, written on what appeared to be parchment of all things, was from someone who quite firmly exhorted a second group, the child's relatives from the sounds of things, to take in the apparently recently orphaned child. The rest of it was filled with vague promises and assurances, veiled in such a way that one without the appropriate points of reference would assume it nonsense.

The second letter, was in his opinion far odder than the first, and certainly of a different tone. It had been written, almost certainly by the child's erstwhile relatives. Apparently in their opinion the boy was a "Witch Child" and therefore a "Freak". They explained they wanted nothing to do with him lest he contaminate their home and their own child. They made assurances that they were unwilling to harm the child, but then proceeded to suggest they thought he should be done away with for the good of humanity. The lot of it turned Tobias' stomach.

The Vicar was watching him with a somewhat uncertain look on his face. "I uh—I admit I was surprised to hear that the government apparently credits such wild accusations and such…"

Tobias noted silently to himself that they didn't unless the right sort of contact was the one who happened across the case. He also knew it was more complicated than that. "They don't, not really, but they need to do their due diligence as well."

The tone of the letters was worrisome. He'd had suspicions the moment he held the child. But they had been confirmed when he'd made the seemingly innocent gesture of brushing the boy's hair aside and seen his scar.

The Lord moved in mysterious ways, he was forced to admit. One of his other contacts had notified him late the previous night that circumstances had changed on their side of the line. And the very next morning, the catalyst of that change was placed literally in his arms. Amazing…and humbling.

He'd have much work ahead to learn of the exact circumstances of what had happened. He'd need to activate a great number of his other contacts and assets to get it all and still keep his tracks hidden….

"Very well, is there anything further you feel I should know?" He asked, looking back to the assembled clergy.

The Vicar shrugged in a somewhat defeated manner. "Not really, you now know just as much as we do…" He offered weakly. Tobias just nodded sympathetically.

"Then I guess I'd better take the lad off your hands, we'll ensure he's cared for don't worry." He assured them as the sister handed off the child.

She made a nervous noise in her throat and spoke up before he could turn away "I'm sorry, but I didn't have the chance to read the letters, what's the child's name?"

He glanced up from the child's face. "Harry, Harry Potter."

Author's Note: As ever I'd truly appreciate some feedback from you guys about this. Reviews and predictions for what comes next are both awesome.