AN: I'm not entirely sure where this story is going to go, other than the obvious of Harry being the littlest necromancer (because there aren't enough of those). I'm leaning towards Harry being a little bit blasé about death, mostly because of being a necromancer. I'm hemming and hawing about putting this on ao3 instead because in the future it will be slash, and I don't think ff net can take it as far as I'd like with the themes I want to depict. People tend to be more forgiving if there's a little nc17 straight smut in a ff net story than if it's gay.

Also, this will be a disturbing albeit lighthearted story, I think, even if I only bump up the rating to M later on.

Vernon was sure that in the not too distant future he would look back on this and laugh. At the moment, though, he could find no amusement in the fact that a dead bird with wings barely attached to its body was stalking his house. It didn't help that Harry was off hiding somewhere, no doubt pouting at the 'unfairness' of it all, nor did it help that this morning as he was off to fetch some groceries (and maybe a bit of Marge's squash pie, no need to tell Petunia though!) when that ruddy bird decided to scare the life almost out of him.

It was perched on the mailbox, ready for the jump scare right when Vernon had left the house, and acted on its dastardly plan. "Hello," It'd said, in a very human adult man's voice. Vernon guessed he'd jumped at least six inches in height, spinning around to see the bird, and a little too close for comfort.

"Shoo! Off with you, ya ruddy bird!" Vernon chased it away, tempted to whack it with the umbrella in hand, rather than scare the not-dead thing with it.

"But DAAAAAD!" The… thing had creepily replied, a perfect imitation of Harry's whine, even as it took flight off the mailbox…

…and onto his car. Wonderful. "No! You're not coming in the house, and you're not coming with me!" Vernon's face flushed red with the realisation of how he must look. He was a grown man, two sons and a wife, and he was yelling at bird in his front yard. When he was young, his buddies would refer to the man a street over as certain choice words due to the way he'd often act just like he was now. Vernon didn't like the idea of being called a nutter.

"I'll be good!" It squeaked. When did Harry have the time to teach the thing such speech, anyway?

Vernon sighed, defeated. Why couldn't they have lied to Harry and told him that he was born on the same day as Dudley? They wouldn't have this problem then, if their birthdays had lined up more closely so that they could get their gifts on time.

At least he wouldn't have to spend the money on another kitten… "Fine, get in the house. But I find one feather out of place, that's it!" Vernon growled at it, opening the front door.

"Thankyou!" Vernon thought it was mocking him, as it winged it inside. It was then that he realised it appeared to have no issues with flight, despite its apparent not-attached wings. What in the hell did he get himself into?

He had a weird son.

It was a day after Harry's sixth birthday celebration, with his creepy not-dead raven perched on his shoulder, that Harry had cornered his parents with a question they knew would come some day. "Am I adopted?" He asked it so innocently, too. They both jumped a little, looking at him with a healthy dose of… something. Harry couldn't quite pin it down. "Because Tommy said that I'm the mailman's kid and I said that there's no-way that could be true but then Nevermore said later that I don't look much like either of you so of course I couldn't be the mailman's if I don't look anything like mum."

Harry took a large breath after his run-on sentence of a spiel, sat, and waited like an eerily well behaved six-year-old. It was a mark that he was nervous, and it was cute, they thought. Petunia and Vernon glanced at each other, having a discussion in only a few seconds, that only married couples and parents could do after a decade or so of being together.

Vernon took a breath, and Harry tensed. "I think you're old enough to know. You should come with me, there's something you should see." Harry did want an answer, even if it was looking like an answer he didn't want. Petunia took his hand and walked him out, and followed after Vernon to where she knew led to the attic.

Soon, they were in the stuffy and needs-a-clean-already attic, headed to a small out-of-the-way cove in the roof's design. There, they were met with a large box, and wasted not time in tearing the packing tape off of it, and pulling out a baby's wicker basinet, a letter and envelope, as well as some other memorabilia. Vernon, as the one to find him that fateful November morning, started, "Someone rung the doorbell early November, 1981, and your mother and I thought it was a couple of kids up too late playing tricks after Halloween. Only, I found you on the doorstep.

"I found this letter, explaining that you had no-where else to go, and I took you in. I made sure that you weren't too cold, of course, and that you were okay before putting you in Dudley's crib with him. Then I went to bed, because it was much too early, you know me." Vernon was glad to see the small grin appear on Harry's face, despite the watery eyes. Harry knew from experience Vernon was as good as a zombie in the morning.

Petunia took it from there, "Imagine my surprise when I found not one little boy waking me up in the morning, but two, because someone decided not to inform me of this the night before." Here Petunia shot a quick glare at Vernon, and the grin made another reappearance. "So, after I've finally changed two sets of diapers that morning, and got you both fed, I finally got to read this," She held out her hand for the letter. "Do you want me to read it to you, Harry?"

With a nod, Petunia started,

"Dear Petunia Dursley,

"It is with sincere sorrow that I must inform you of the passing of your sister, Lilly. Know that she passed without pain, and fighting for what was right.

"I must plead with you to consider taking in young Harry, your nephew, into your home. The one responsible for Lilly's and James' murder may still be at large despite his disappearance, and as such your family may very well be the safest place for young Harry. I urge you to take him in as one of your own, and maybe to change his name to reflect your own, for added safety.

"I unfortunately cannot offer any more information than I already have, as the safety of your new family is of utmost importance, all I can do is hope that, on Harry's 11th birthday all your lingering questions will be answered and all will become clear.

"With you in your grief,

"Albus Dumbledore"

Harry was crying silently by the time the letter had ended, vague and heart wrenching, but still full of the closure he sought at the start. Petunia and Vernon, already kneeled down to his level, reached in to hug him tight. "Thank you, aunt and uncle." Harry whispered.

"Oh, none of that now. We're still your parents, even if you didn't directly come from us. We took you in, didn't we? You have our last name, no?" Petunia started.

"And we put up with your poopy nappies, and your spit ups, and gave you your shots even though you bawled during all of them," Vernon continued.

As if sensing a problem in the future, a skill she was eerily good at, Petunia cut in, "And don't go thinking that this takes anything away from your birth parents. If I know anything about my sister, it's that she would want her son to be raised loved, even if that means by someone else if she wasn't able."

When Harry was seven, he had an interesting experience with a man who had red eyes. That was to say, Dudley and he were playing in the park and had taken a shortcut home when they spotted a man holding someone against a wall. "I don't care about your family woes, Gregory. We have a deal, one in which I have kept my end to the letter. I expected someone of your stature to understand what would happen if you did not keep yours."

The red eyed man turned slightly when Dudley had pushed Harry down behind the bins, following shortly. Dudley had a bad feeling about the red eyed man, and he'd seen enough violent movies behind his mum's back to know that this was one of those situations she didn't want them seeing. From where Harry was, he couldn't see anything further, but Dudley let out a sigh of relief when the man turned back to his captive.

The man flashed his teeth, which, weird, but then let the man go. Dudley was just happy that they didn't see anything that would require the bobbies. The then-captive took his chance and quickly scurried off, followed by the man walking out of the alleyway at a leisurely pace. Once Dudley was sure the man was gone, he grabbed his younger brother and hauled him out behind the dumpster. "He's gone, Harry, c'mon let's go in case they come back."

Harry shrugged, following along. He'd noticed that Dudley had gotten it into his head that because he was the eldest, he was responsible for Harry or some such. He'd come to the conclusion early on that it was usually better to just go along with it, unwilling to have another row about it and in a dingy ally no less.

Only, Harry's eyes widened a bit when he saw the same man leaning against a wall at the mouth of the ally, behind Dudley's back. He stumbled backward when Dudley, holding his arm, tried to drag him out. "C'mon!" He hissed, "What are you standing around for?"

Harry just tapped on Dudley's arm, trying to get him to turn. Thankfully all it took was an urgently whispered, "Dudley!" for him to get the hint.

As if by magic, by the time Dudley had turned around, the man had blurred to just next to Dudley, and grabbed a hold of his shirt. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that it is rude to eavesdrop?" He lifted, and it was a testament to the quality of the shirt that it didn't immediately tear like some cheap brand. Harry wasted no time in moving forward, intent on attacking the man's arms.

"Let my brother go!" Harry had yelled, landing a firm hit on the man's arm. It was surprisingly effective, as the man had recoiled, as if stung. He let Dudley drop, in favour of fixing his red, red eyes to Harry's face.

"Well, what do we have here?" He'd said, dropping to Harry's level by going down on a knee, and then reaching out a hand as if to… cup his cheek, maybe? Harry wasn't sure, as he didn't let the man get a chance to finish the action, in favour of focusing on Dudley's groaning form on the rough floor. Harry was just mollified that the man didn't seem to hurt Dudley too much.

Still, "You dropped him!" Harry glared, accusingly. "Why'd you have to go and hurt him for?"

The man smirked, and said, "You did ask me to let him go." Harry continued to glare, not letting himself get distracted by the fact that the man's eyes seemed to glow like he'd seen in some old photographs of his maternal grandmother. Only, there wasn't a light shining on them, and he wasn't in a photograph.

The grin faltered in the face of his glare, making Harry feel good about his glares. And Mum said he was cute when he did it! Hah! "I'm sorry, little prince, I didn't realise who you were. I don't suppose that I could convince you to forget this, could I?"

"Maybe, what's in it for me?" By now, Dudley had already made it to his feet, and he shot a terrified look at Harry at his question.

"Harry!" He hissed. Now was not the time to be blackmailing someone! He looked dangerous, and he hoped that his two-syllable hiss conveyed this to Harry.

One eyebrow was raised, which just irritated Harry, because he still wasn't able to nail that skill down yet. The man reached into his inner coat, and the movement scared Dudley into grabbing Harry's arm and squeezing hard. The man smirked again, pulling out a wallet, "The littlest mobster, eh? Would this do, little prince?" He took out two five-pound notes, and held them out for each of them.

Both Harry and Dudley eyed them and then the man suspiciously. He tried to raise one eyebrow, and he wasn't sure if he was successful, "We're not supposed to talk to strangers…"

The man's red eyes sharpened, and his grin widened, showing sharp incisors and long needle-like canines. "My name is Alfred Wilhelm, young prince. Now, I'm not such a stranger, right Harry?"

Harry had forgotten that the man knew his name, probably due to Dudley's not-so-subtle hissing. "Still, I'm not so sure…" wordlessly, 'Alfred' withdrew two more five-pound notes, and extended the full twenty to the duo. Harry took it, not noticing the flash in Alfred's eyes when his finger brushed against the man's hand. "Thanks Wilhelm!"

Dudley, thus far silent, was sensitive to the subtle change in the circumstances. "Okay! We're going now! Bye!" He was not subtle, himself, though. He muscled Harry away from the strange man in a quick pace. Once they were out of sight, he started into a light jog, all the while his hand was still a vice around Harry's arm.

The next day was looking to be an exceptionally hot summer day, a heat wave so severe that their father had forbidden them from going outside to play, an exceptional rarity. It was also their dad's day off, and by extension their summer nanny's/housecleaner's day off. Well, work-from-home day, more like, as recently rising to the rank of Chief Business Officer allowed him to stay at the home office and conduct paperwork there. It had the added benefit of allowing him to occasionally check on what his fool children were up to. Or, at least, make sure they weren't burning the house down or killing each other, as brothers tended to do. Usually the duties of the housecleaner.

At the breakfast table, he was struck by nostalgia about some of the childish insults and fights he'd shared with Marge. Good times, simple times, like when he unrepentantly bit off the head of Marge's toy doll. While they were fun, and simple, he still wouldn't give up his relationship with Marge now nor his kids to go back to those simple times.

He was interrupted from his musings when Harry was kind enough to plop the newspaper down beside his breakfast plate, narrowly missing it, and a bundle of a few letters beyond the reach of his coffee cup. He'd forgotten it was Harry's turn, otherwise he probably wouldn't have been so off in his own world and lifted his coffee cup sooner. He swears, that boy sometimes is the clumsiest kid he'd ever known, with the sheer number of mugs that had accidentally been broken via mail artillery.

Nothing to it, though. He mumbled a 'thank you', and dug into the business section of the paper, next to the bangers and mash that was this morning. He would deal with the post after breakfast, as was proper.

He should have relished the taste of the bangers and mash more, he supposed, since he only got to have it on rare occasions. It was great having a surgeon in the family, a great deal of boasting that they got to have to all their neighbours and at dinner parties, but sometimes he did miss having a full English in the morning like when he was a kid. It was worth it when his wife got that look in her eye, talking to the wives at business parties that told him she was subtly reminding them that she wasn't just arm candy, even if she looked like it. Even better when she managed to employ those smarts of hers to talk circles around some of the idiots he was forced to deal with and pander to, or when she was able to hold her own in discussions with some of the more pharmaceutical folk, as well as subtly insult them while doing so.

He found her competence sexy.

He was sipping on tea, the coffee having long been demolished by his then-tired mind, when he deemed it time to look into the post. He went through them, with another depressing number of bills, a tax return reminder which piqued his interest from his buddy in the financial department, and an interesting letter from a chap named Demetri Krovoprolitye. Sounded like a Red. Curious, Vernon opened the letter only to find an invitation to a private gala where he and his family were invited to attend.

Vernon looked over the dinning table, a fine piece of furniture that had been in his family for three generations now, to his lovely wife. "We've been invited to another gala, dear. It's held two weeks from today. Would you like to attend?"

"Who's it from?" Petunia's eyebrows furrowed; she didn't hear anything about one of her associates holding another gala, or even the hospital she worked at holding another one so close to the last. "And what's it about?"

"Some chap named Demetri Krovo-something. Some lacky for the Reds, no doubt. Says here it's a private gala, and we've been invited due to 'the assistance rendered to one Alfred Wilhelm'." Came the response. He did not miss the panicked glance stolen between Dudley and Harry. Maybe it was a mockery of an invitation, given out because one of his fool children broke the man's window or some such? He narrowed an accusing eye towards them.

Petunia paused in her eating, fork left in a glass dish holding her morning fruit, "Never heard of him. Can I see that?" Vernon acquiesced easily, handing it over. As soon as her hand was on it as well as his, they both faltered, a sudden shift in their outlook. Petunia tried to reason past it, taking the invitation fully in hand, "We'd have to get a proper sitter. Grace doesn't do overnights, and Marge is much too busy with her recent 'dates' to be bothered with looking after the boys."

She was met by a swift shake of the head by Vernon, and a glassy-eyed reply, "It says that it's kid friendly…"

Petunia nodded, some people saw their kids as another ornament to brag about to others. "Okay, we'll go. We'll need to get some nice suits for the boys, though, and I don't think I have a dress for something like this. I'm not reusing a funding-gala dress or a business dress for something like this, it's not done! And you too, mister," It was the last ditch at fighting the sudden desire to just RSVP right away, playing off the desire to not mingle with the want-to-bees that crawled the shopping districts constantly.

They both hated it, being forced to deal with the people that thought they were something else because the economy was doing well, and they were getting just a taste of what the upper-middle-class enjoyed. It was pathetic that they didn't just be true to their financial reality. Granted, the Dursleys lived a little under their financial reach, considering that they lived in the suburbs closer to the city despite their positions as a surgeon and a CBO.

She was forced to admit defeat to sending their RSVP when Vernon just shrugged. Though she got a perverse feeling that most mothers got when she noticed both her boys' looks of dread. She thought that it was due to their intense dislike of shopping in general, which she revelled in, as that was one of the perks that allowed her to make it through the throngs of pretenders.

In truth, she was only partially correct. While Harry regarded shopping with an irrational hatred, Dudley was more focused on the fact that he knew something bad would come out of their little run-in with that red-eyed man in an ally. He just thought it was more focused on the fact that they were a couple of kids in an ally with a dangerous man, and the deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, not something that would come much later.

Dudley also hated shopping, too, though. Don't get him wrong, he hated it when he got to see a bunch of shiny toys, sweets, and whatnot, but always be treated to a resounding 'no' from mum and dad.

AN: Please keep in mind that for the next little bit I'm a couple chapters ahead of the one you guys are reading, so any suggestions you make will take a little bit of time before I implement them.

Still, I'm a bit of a slut for comments so please tell me what you think!