A/N: I posted a challenge for a story I wanted to read, but unfortunately nobody picked it up. On a request from several people (you know who you are), I decided to try my own hand at this. I had two options how to start the story: at the beginning or at the end with many flashbacks. I chose first, which means, it's gonna take some time before we actually see the Gundam Boys.

Please review, comment and give me pointers, as this is my first story, thank you *bows*

Summary: It all started with a simple question: how much money do I have? It wasn't an epiphany, or a sudden understanding. It was a first question that became a step that turned into a road that lead him to do what he was best in: save people. Eventually it lead him to Preventors and the FRA project. And found a family member in the last place he would look - among the Gundam Pilots. Would he accept them, will they accept him? What would all this lead to? And what other surprises does the world hold?

Disclaimer: Don't own, doesn't mean I can't play around with it.

It was a relatively normal summer day in Surrey, England. The sun was shining, the trees in a nearby park rustling their leaves in a afternoon breeze, people going on about with their business, traveling by cars, public transport or walking down the sidewalks. The kids were running around as the school was out for the summer break - the longest break in the year of 2 to 3 months of no classes, no homework and no annoying teachers and getting into detentions for making trouble.

It was also a typical summer day for the family of Dursleys, the residents of number 4 Private Drive, of a house and yard same as any down and up the street and around the corner. Petunia Dursley, the mother of the house, was spying on her neighbors in hope of juicy scoop for later gossip as per usual. Vernon Dursley, left for work and was due home for dinner in a couple of hours. The son, Dudley Dursley was out with his friends for some fun - in other words, searching for some poor sods to bully and practice his boxing moves on. Harry Potter, the unfortunate nephew of the house, was gardening the back yard as a part of his load of chores.

At least the plan was to garden and plant some flowers under the windows for his aunt to show off next time she was hosting a parlor tea with other gossiping women of the area. But as a matter of fact, the boy was shoveling the earth over and over again in the same spot, too lost in thought to notice he hasn't moved from it for the last 15 minutes. Reason? Something his uncle said earlier that day. But let's back track a bit to explain a bit more.

You see, Harry Potter was not a normal boy. Not in a sense of a disability or being a genius. Not even in a sense of teenage rebellious stage and going against Alliance or wanting to join the army. No, nothing as simple as that. No, in this age of space colonies, world-wide information networks, instant communications and mechas, he was a member of a society for all intents and purposes stuck a few several centuries behind. He was a wizard - a broom-flying, potion brewing, robe wearing, wand waving, honest to God magic user wizard.

His parents were also magical. His mother a first generation, and his father from a very old and pureblood line. Both of them were murdered at their home on Halloween night, when Harry was a 15 months old toddler, and Harry himself was dumped on his Aunt's doorstep withing 24 hours, on a very cold November night by a very strange group of people: a very old man with white beard, twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles and a color sense of a blind drunk bat, a very strict looking woman with her hair in a tight bun and a no nonsense air around her, that looked an epitome of a strict Professor from an exclusive boarding school; and a giant of a man, who was the one to bring Harry in a basket on a flying motorcycle. Minerva, the strict woman, identified by the old man, Albus, had spent the whole day previous spying on the Dursley family, and was very disapproving of them. The giant, Hagrid, was overcome with grief for the death of the baby's family, and was crying unashamedly the whole time after saying goodbye. And Albus, as an apparent leader, left the sleeping toddler with naught but a blanket and a letter, without even having the decency to ring a bell, before he walked down the street and vanished into thin air with a pop.

The very night Harry became an orphan, whole hidden society of England were celebrating the Death of Dark Lord Voldemort, who everyone You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and raising toasts for Harry Potter, the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord and Savior. For you see, this same Dark Lord was the one to kill Harry's parents, first his father, James Potter, in a confrontation in the living room, and then his mother Lily Potter nee Evans, when she declined moving out of the way in front of the crib. But when he then turned his wad on the toddler and uttered the 2 words than were inescapable death, something happened, and the spell backfired, leaving Harry only with a scar in a form of lighting on his forehead.

The Dursleys were understandably upset to find a baby on their doorstep in the morning, but were forced to take him in. But considering they were striving to be normal, and a very potent jealousy from Petunia towards Lily and everything to do with her perfect sister, one can only imagine what kind of life the little innocent was forced to live under the roof. No, they didn't abuse him, but there were slaps aplenty, a long list of chores to do as soon as he was old enough to do them and not a praise or word of love in return, while they showered their own son Dudley with all the love and affection of doting parents. He was called 'Boy' and 'Freak', and punished for anything that was deemed 'abnormal' and 'freakish'. He learned about being a wizard when he was 11, and that was a whole adventure of itself. So he was studying in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, supposedly one of the most secure places on the planet. Strangely enough for the whole 3 years he was there, he came close to dying several times and was involved in quite a few hair raising adventures. He also made a few friends, and a couple of enemies, and regained a Godfather, a convicted murderer who was innocent of the crimes he was accused of. Unfortunately, the real perpetrator was believed to be dead and a hero for stopping the said godfather, Sirius Black, and Harry and his friends couldn't prove otherwise, as the traitor managed to escape them on a very hectic night in May of Harry's third year. A night that involved a werewolf, a git of a Potion professor that had a grudge mile-long with anything Potter, a rat of a traitor, being kidnapped, injured, traveling through time, fighting alone against over a hundred Dementors with a very advanced and highly difficult spell, soul sucking creatures, and an escape in the nick of a time on a back of a Hippogriff and finally spending the night with the friends involved after a watchful and highly disgruntled eye of the school Matron in the Hospital Wing.

But all of that is neither here or there. Yes, Harry's summer was more bearable this year because of the mention about his murderer of a godfather (they did forget to tell them he was innocent), that expected updates on his well-being in form of letter sent by Hedwig, Harry's Snowy Owl and his first ever present and a friend. No, what had Harry in such a pensive mood was the fact that when the day previous his Uncle made several cutting remarks to his nephew, Harry had realized that he had had no idea what his Uncle had been referring to. It was a usual dinner, with the three Dursleys stuffing their faces with food at the table while watching TV, and Uncle Vernon grumbling and complaining about everything on the news: the terrorist attacks on the colonies (should've shot them all down, colonies, meh, what unnatural place to live at), the Alliance (we have to work our arses off to provide for tax money and those idiots can't even get the network to work properly half the time, and why can't they just shoot all those abominations of the terrorists), the politics (old men spending out tax money, while we work our arses off to earn), the orphans (just shoot and drown the annoying brats as no normal people should be burdened with providing for them), etc etc. The final topic got off into spiral, when the Uncle's eyes dropped on his nephew's raven nest of the hair and he loudly announced that his nephew and his felon of a godfather should have been bombed like that priest on L2. What outrage, making an orphanage of the holy place, and then covering for terrorists. The Alliance did the right thing when they massacred the whole place, the mutts would have never been upstanding citizens and as his sister Marge, who raises dogs, says all the time, better to prune the problem at the bottom and drown the defective pups at once. Yes, good thing they blew up the whole place.

Later that night, when the Dursleys had gone to sleep and Harry had been suffering from insomnia (he had too many nightmares), the talk at the dinner had resurfaced in his mind and he frowned and decided to look up everything his Uncle had mentioned. So he used Dudley's PDA (used once, and then dropped when Dudders couldn't play any games due to his sausage-like fingers) and looked up all the references and latest news. He was horrified to come to realization, that with nothing electrical working in magical places and no Muggle (non-magical) newspapers to read, he was behind on the global news. How detached he had become from the mundane world. He had spent the whole night trying to catch up on everything he had missed.

So today, he was gardening and trying to make sense of everything that was happening around the world: all the disasters, the fighting, the sheer number of broken families and orphans, and how the Magic community was completely sheltered from it all. He wished he could help the kids, that were in worse situation than he was. He was an orphan, yes, but he was completely protected by being in the safety of magical world. At that point, Harry's brain came to a screeching halt, making him drop his instrument.

Muggles were at war creating orphans. The Magical world had many orphans from the previous war, including him. The Muggles were trying to find and create safe places for orphans. Magical world was completely sheltered, that they never even knew about the war. The Maxwell Church offered Sanctuary to all the orphans and tried to find them families, and even took in some fugitives (before it was bombed 4 years ago, a though that Harry hastily chased away). Sirius was a fugitive. Sirius had invited Harry to live with him, and said that he had enough money to buy a palace or a castle just for the two of them. He was filthy rich same as Potters. Just how rich he, Harry, was?

A/N: pls R&R, I need you opinion. and you can drop me a pm with ideas. the general plotline is in the HPGW challenge file.