Title: View from the Streets

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: Nothing Specific, general for first few books.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, or Luna, or Ginny, or Cho, or... I would buy them all but I am broke.

Summary: The Dursleys do not keep Harry, so his life is very different and even tougher. Extreme AU

The alley was dark, and looked abandoned when the fat man entered with a bundle in his arms, looking around nervously. The alleyway was not abandoned however. There was a single occupant, huddled in the shadows, watching the man, hearing him muttering to himself as he dumped the bundle in the large dumpster and then walked away.

The figure moved out of the shadows to reveal a skinny fifteen year old girl, dressed in worn, tatty and slightly dirty clothes. She moved cautiously to the dumpster, hoping that the bundle contained food, but she found something very different. A baby, maybe a little over a year old.

Suddenly the muttering of the man made sense, in particular two phrases. 'Damn Potters' and 'Harry is such a common name'. She leaned over and lifted the baby out of the dumpster, where it began to fuss.

"Hush there Harry. I will take care of you." She said softly, rocking the baby slightly. "Think Rebecca, where can I get food for a kid this young."

Rebecca kept rocking young Harry as she walked out of the alleyway. It was a bit late but maybe the Soup Kitchen two blocks away would still be open, and have something for a baby.

Harry slipped out of the window of the library, his seven year old body contorting to fit through the narrow opening. The moon light illuminating the small side street at the back of the closed library as Harry dropped to the street and carefully looked around before moving away keeping mostly to the shadows.

Keeping to the back streets, and avoiding the area where some bullies liked to hang out, he made his way to an old warehouse. He crept through the piles of boxes and tarpaulins, the shipping containers and corrugated iron sheets. Near the back of the warehouse he pulled aside a sheet of corrugated iron to reveal a short tunnel in a row of boxes. He entered the tunnel, replacing the sheet behind him. At the end of the short tunnel, the passageway split leading into a small maze of irregular spaces and corridors made by the stacks of boxes, crates and containers. Deftly navigating his way through the maze, Harry emerged into a decent sized and comfortable, if sparse, living area.

"Mum, I'm back." Harry called out softly.

Rebecca, no longer a skinny teenager but now a young woman with long dark hair kept in a ponytail and cautious blue eyes, emerged from behind the partition that cordoned off the bathroom area from the rest of the living space and gave Harry a big, welcoming hug.

Two of the walls of the living space were actually walls of the building, one an external wall and the other, which backed the bathroom area, was an internal wet wall from which they had Jury-rigged the plumbing for the bathroom and in the other corner the small kitchen area. The other two walls were made of shipping containers and heavy boxes, with the exception of the small passageway Harry had entered by, but even that had a heavy box suspended above it ready to drop and seal off the passage. The space had a ceiling of wooden boards that crossed the space, but the walls of boxes and shipping containers extended well above the boards helping to conceal the room.

"Dinner will be ready shortly. Go wash up." Rebecca ordered.

"Yes Mum." Harry said, rushing into the bathroom to wash up.

Dinner was a meagre affair, consisting of a thin soup, cooked on a small gas camp stove, and the last of a now very stale loaf of bread. Neither Rebecca nor Harry were well fed, but nor were they starving. The last three years, since Rebecca had found this warehouse, had been rough but nothing compared to the first few years when Rebecca had to care for Harry as a toddler. Most of the time they managed to scrape by with scrounging whatever they could and the occasional visits to soup kitchens, but every now and again, when they were really desperate, Rebecca would do what was necessary to get them some money to see them through. When she had run away at age thirteen she had sworn she would never go that route, but she did not do it for herself. Harry was worth it, Harry was more than worth it.

The pair enjoyed the meagre meal, Harry telling the woman he considered his mother about all the wonderful things he had learnt at the library, and how he had outwitted the stupid bully who roamed between the library and the cinema. After dinner Harry yawned and they both made their way over to the single bundle of bedding, with Rebecca turning off the lights, again tapped into the buildings supply. She turned off the last light and then snuggled down into the bedding, wrapping her arms around Harry in a comforting hug as they both drifted off to sleep, sharing body warmth to stave off the cold.

In a small junction box the electricity meter stopped as the last light went out, recording the power usage. A power bill that, like the water bill, would be automatically paid from a trust account without anyone being aware of the value of the bill. As it had been for the last six years.

Professor McGonagall took her duties as Deputy Headmistress very seriously, and to her the most important duty was the first letter to the new intake of prospective First Year students which went out every year in the middle of July. Normally she simply supervised the process, which was done by the House Elves, reviewing and signing the letters, but this year there was at least one she wanted to do herself. This year Harry Potter was getting his letter and she owed it to his parents to make sure that it was done right so she had decided to do them all herself this year. She had, on a number of occasions over the last ten years, questioned Dumbledore on his decision to place Harry with those Muggles, but the Headmaster had assured her, time and again, that he was being taken care of and had been informed of his heritage.

She took a sip of tea and picked up the next set of papers, which happened to be Harry's and she almost choked on her tea when she saw the address the letter was to be sent to. It was most certainly not Harry's relative's place but she still recognised the address. In fact Minerva McGonagall was probably the only living Magical who knew of the address, a temporary safe house that Lily Potter had set up as an emergency bolt hole in an out of the way part of Muggle London, set up in case of an attack, one the Minerva had helped her with but that Lily never got the chance to use.

After taking a few moments to process the information she just read, Professor McGonagall acted.

"Nemo." She called, and waited for the pop of the House Elf's arrival. "I want you to finish doing the First Year letters in that pile. Have them ready for me to sign in the morning."

As Nemo nodded his head, McGonagall grabbed some floo powder and travelled to the Three Broomsticks. The pub was almost empty at this time in the evening but she was not there for the food or drinks, it was simply the closest public floo outside of the Hogwarts Wards. Striding outside, she apperated away.

Harry and Rebecca were once again sitting down to a meagre dinner. Things had gotten better in the last four years, with Rebecca finding part time work stacking shelves in a small shop and Harry running errands a few days a week for a few of the local businesses, including the baker and the butcher who paid him in day old loaves of bread and off cut meat. This work had meant they were eating better, enough that they both had put on some weight but they were still had lean bodies, and Rebecca had not had to resort to more desperate measures to get food on the table.

The dinner in front of them was a rich broth, with small chunks of meat and a few vegetables floating in it, with a half loaf of day old bread. As a treat, there was even a small chocolate cupcake for them to share afterwards, which Rebecca had worked three extra shifts in the last two weeks to be able to afford. They had just finished sharing the small cupcake when a woman appeared in the room off towards the entrance tunnel with a pop.

Both Harry and Rebecca reacted instantly, moving away from the woman with Rebecca pushing Harry behind her as she grabbed a kitchen knife while Harry drew and firmly held his own pen knife. The woman, an older lady with her hair up in a severe bun, glasses and wearing old style robes, put up her hands after placing a smooth stick on the floor beside her.

"I am not here to harm you." She said with a calm and even tone. "My name is Professor McGonagall. I was a friend of Harry's parents."

"I'm Harry's mother now." Rebecca said, defensively.

"Of course, I meant no disrespect." McGonagall said. "I simply was concerned, and somewhat surprised, when I discovered that he was here, of all places."

"What's wrong with here? Would you prefer I left him in the dumpster where I found him?" Rebecca replied, now angry.

"Again I must apologise, that is not what I meant in the least." McGonagall said. "May I sit?"

Rebecca nodded slowly and the Professor took one of the two seats at the table, Rebecca's usual seat, and Rebecca took the other, with Harry standing close behind her.

"Please allow me to explain." McGonagall said, taking a calming breath. "My surprise was two-fold. Firstly, I have been repeatedly told by someone, someone I used to trust implicitly, that young Harry was being raised and cared for by his relatives in a safe and comfortable environment. I now realise that this person never bothered to check on Harry's wellbeing and it was probably those same relatives that abandoned him. To that end I must convey my undying gratitude to you for taking care of him. Excuse my bluntness but may I ask your name?"

"Rebecca Byron." Rebecca said. "Why is that important, Professor McGonagall?"

"Oh, I just wanted to be able to update our records in regards to young Harry's guardian." McGonagall replied. "Now, back to the issue, the second reason I was surprised to find you both here is rather simple. It was young Harry's biological mother, Lily Potter, who set up this particular hiding spot, with some assistance from myself."

"Why would she need a place to hide?" Harry asked.

"It is rather a long story, but it involves a madman, a secret world and a monstrous betrayal." McGonagall began. "Would you mind if I picked up my… stick? I promise that I will in no way harm either of you, it is just easier to explain if I can give a demonstration."

Rebecca exchanged a glance with Harry and then nodded. What they saw next rocked their world to the core and the resulting conversation lasted long into the night.

Professor McGonagall was showing Rebecca and Harry though Diagon Alley, with the focus on going to Gringotts bank. Both Rebecca and Harry looked around in wonder and awe at the strange sights they saw, so when they reached the bank they were so overloaded with new sights that the Goblins of the bank seemed to be just another new experience.

"Professor McGonagall, how can we help you?" the Teller asked.

"This is Harry Potter, and his Muggle guardian, Rebecca Byron." McGonagall introduced. "I understand that Mister Potter's Trust Account Key is currently being held by the Bank."

"Of course. We will, naturally, need to confirm his identity." The Goblin Teller replied.

The process was simple, simply requiring a single drop of blood on a special parchment that did nothing more that confirm his identity. After that his Trust Fund's key was provided and another Goblin lead them down to his Trust Vault, via a rollercoaster like cart ride, to reveal piles of gold, silver and Copper coins.

"What are the conditions on the Trust Vault?" Rebecca asked.

Her father may have been an abusive asshole, but he had also been a Lawyer, so she had leant a lot about how lawyers think.

"The vault contains five hundred Galleons, six hundred Sickles and three hundred Knuts. The Trust is set up to refill to that level ever year on the 31st of July, Harry's Birthday, from the main Potter Vault." The Goblin replied. "Our records show that there has been no activity in the Trust Vault in the last ten years. The Hogwarts Tuition is taken from the main vault, which Harry will be able to access at age seventeen."

Both Harry and Rebecca turned to look at Professor McGonagall with a curious look on their faces.

"Galleons are the Gold ones, Sickles are the Silver ones, Knuts are the Copper ones." McGonagall explained. "There are 29 Knuts to a Sickle, and 17 Sickles to a Galleon."

"So it comes to just under 536 Galleons in total." Harry said, making the calculations in his head.

"What's the relative value of the coins?" Rebecca asked. "Accommodation, School supplies, that kind of thing."

"Let me think." McGonagall replied. "Harry's School supplies will be around one hundred to one hundred and fifty Galleons brand new, perhaps half to a third of that second hand. That's uniforms, books, storage trunk and various supplies. Depending on where you stay, accommodation will vary. An apartment in Hogsmeade, which is the small village just outside of Hogwarts, would be between thirty and ninety Galleons a month, depending on the size."

"Mum, that means you can get a place while I'm at school." Harry said, before turning to the Goblin. "I want mum to have full access to the Vault whenever she needs it."

"Harry." Rebecca said, warningly.

"No, mum." Harry interrupted. "I know what you had to sacrifice for me. This is as much yours as it is mine."

"That is perfectly acceptable." The Goblin said. "In fact, as Mister Potter's Muggle Guardian, you are already entitled to access the Trust Vault."

Not intending to get Harry's school supplies yet, they only took 5 Galleons, 30 sickles and 20 Knuts out of the vault as 'spending money' for the time being before leaving the bank.

TBC…