Harry hopes for a savior, and he gets his wish in the form of a hero to the Wizarding World . . . and she isn't the only savior he meets that day.

Warning: this chapter contains content that includes descriptions of the physical abuse of a minor. If you wish to avoid this content, we advise you to skip the parts between the start of this chapter to "he knew this was going to be a very, very long trip" as well as the parts between "Harry nodded, taking a bite of his cookie" to "He finished one of the cookies."

***

When Harry was four, he was beaten so badly that he had been bruised for weeks on end.

When Harry was five, he had to be taken to the hospital by his to get his broken arm fixed. He never said a word as his aunt Petunia took over answering questions because he likely would have told the nurse what had actually happened. He had been playing with his cousin, and Harry had a toy that Dudley wanted. When Harry refused to give it to him, Petunia grabbed his arm so hard she broke the small bone. The story they told the nurse and the doctor was that he had been outside playing and climbing trees and he fell out of one and landed on his arm.

When he was six, he had been starved for nearly two weeks, given only the bare minimum to survive. Harry was almost too small for a seven-year-old. By then, he should have had his first growth spurt, and because he was always malnourished and dehydrated, he wasn't getting enough nutrients to make sure he did grow. So he was still small for his age. All of his clothes were his cousin Dudley's old ones that were too big for him, and he'd never had clothes of his own. He'd always been handed hand-me-downs and clothes extremely too big for him.

Just recently, right after Harry turned seven, he'd been splashed with boiling water over his back by his uncle, and had second-degree burns for almost three weeks. They healed, but he has scars to prove that it had indeed happened. That was just additional proof he was constantly being abused, both physically and mentally.

Harry was normally a quiet child. He had barely fussed as a baby, unlike his cousin Dudley. He was not normally argumentative like his cousin was prone to be, as he knew he would receive an extreme punishment if he did. He had been told to pack his stuff in a bag, everything he owned, and to get in the car. He hadn't been told anything other than the fact that he and the rest of his "family" were going to be moving to New York City in the United States. He didn't know why, so he asked a question. He was rewarded with hits from both Petunia and Vernon, resulting in little Harry having a black eye and a hand-shaped bruise on the left side of his face. But that was nothing new, for Harry had been covered in bruises since he could remember. He had always been extremely good at hiding the pain of his bruises from his school peers and his teachers, but he had no idea how he was going to hide this from people on the street and people they met.

Vernon roughly shoved him by the shoulder into the back of the car, shaking Harry out of his musings, and he muttered a cruel "get going boy, we don't have all day," at him. Harry did as he was told, not wanting another beating. He knew this was going to be a very, very long trip. He only hoped something good came out of it. As the car started driving away from the only home he knew, Harry stared out of the window, hoping someday a Savior would come to save him from these wretched people.

***

The next day saw Harry and his family arriving at their new home. He finally knew why they flew across the ocean. His uncle Vernon had been offered the job of a lifetime: an executive position of the New York branch of Grunnings, the drill company he'd worked for in England.

Harry knew that very few people would notice the bruises on his face, not if they weren't actively looking, but he knew someone would see them and would hopefully understand what was happening to him. He wanted to get away from here, even if here was his new home. He knew that no matter what happened to him, someone would find out and be the savior he so desperately craved.

Their new home was an apartment, more like a condo, a few blocks from Times Square, and Harry had never felt more out of place. The condo was big, but Harry wasn't allowed to explore except for the places he was told to clean and where he did the rest of his chores. At least in London, Harry had his cupboard, the one place he could go when he needed to be alone. Here, he had an actual room, but it was small, and the only hiding space was under his bed, a place he knew he would quickly be found. In his room, he had a bed, a wardrobe for his clothes and single pair of shoes, and a bedside table. He had light blue walls and hardwood flooring, with golden specks when hit with the natural sunlight from his bay window. Dudley hadn't wanted the "girly" room, and so the Dursleys gave it to Harry with instructions to keep it clean . . . not that Harry had anything to dirty it with since he wasn't allowed to touch Dudley's toys and he didn't have any of his own.

Harry jumped when he heard his door slam open against his walls four hours after the family and Harry had gone to sleep off the jetlag from the long flight, drive, and the start of the unpacking. He'd been having dreams lately, of a man with long, black hair in curls, eyes of emerald green, and a serpent cane of silver and jade, his silver-ringed fingers beckoning Harry to him. Four other children around his age, their features unknown, were beckoned by others, two to men, two to women. The moment he stepped forward, the dream shattered around him as he woke. He had the dream every so often, but it vanished from his memory until he slept and returned to the dream once more. Harry knew he had always been a little weird, but having a man four times his age in his dreams would likely cause him to get put into a mental hospital.

While the growling, yelling, and slamming of doors had startled him, he wasn't scared of his aunt and uncle, or his cousin. He didn't have the luxury of being scared of his family and their abuse. He had to be strong, so that one day when he finally got out of there, he wouldn't be afraid of anything in the world. As long as he was strong, he was able to take on anything. He might've only been seven years old, but Harry Potter knew that being strong, and unafraid was the way to go.

"Up, boy! You have work to do." His aunt Petunia snapped at him and he reluctantly got up to do as he was told.

***

Almost three months later, everything had settled. Harry and his family were finding their feet in New York City, and Vernon was doing good with his job, making lots of money.

Harry was cleaning Dudley's messy room and picking up his toys when there was a knock on the door. He froze in his actions, thinking quickly. Had they been expecting visitors? Had his aunt and uncle expected him to hide again? That thought quickly vanished from his head; he would have expected Vernon to bellow at him to get out of sight if that was the case.

He ever so slightly peered around the doorframe to watch Petunia open the door. A woman of height stood on the front step, a small smile on her soft-featured face, her black hair short and eyes dark brown. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she appeared nothing but pleasant as she regarded Petunia. "Petunia Dursley?" she asked formally.

"Yes," Petunia nodded, a pinched look on her face. "Can I help you?"

"Ma'am, is your husband home?"

Only Petunia's well-honed manners stopped her from being snappish with the unknown woman at her door. "Vernon, dear!" she called over her shoulder in a perfected sweet tone. "We have a visitor!"

"Do we?" Vernon lumbered out of his office, peering down his nose at the woman. "What can we do for you?"

Harry had seen countless people, man and woman alike, falter under that condescending look of his uncle's. This woman, however, merely tilted her head, not giving away any emotion. "Vernon Dursley?" she asked.

"Yes, that's me," Vernon confirmed impatiently.

The woman's smile changed, and Harry gave a minute flinch. Her smile now bared her teeth . . . and not in a friendly way. "Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, my name is Tina Goldstein. I'm here on behalf of Child Protective Services. Is your nephew, Harry Potter, in the house?"

Harry felt like he had been given one of Vernon's punches in the gut. The woman . . . she was here for him?

He could see Petunia's face drain of color, and Vernon's turned the color of prized tomatoes. But there was nothing they could do in the face of the woman who stood confidently in the face of Vernon except turn towards the staircase, their gazes venomous. "Boy!" Vernon bellowed. "Get out here!"

Harry obediently hurried out of the room and into the foyer, but stopped in his tracks when Dudley called from his own room. "Dad? What do you need the freak for?"

Harry had never known there was a color paler than white, but somehow, Petunia's face managed to turn such a color. Vernon stiffened in place, and Harry saw a change in Tina's demeanor. The CPS woman now had her arms crossed, her chin tilted, her previously friendly eyes now narrowed. "Freak?" she repeated.

"Dudley is currently not happy with his cousin, Ms. Goldstein," Vernon rushed to say through gritted teeth. "Freak is the word he uses when he's upset."

Tina hummed, clearly not believing Vernon. She stepped through the doorway and between Vernon and Petunia without a care. As Petunia started to protest, Harry did his best to stand tall in front of their guest. He was surprised when Tina stopped a comfortable distance away, and he was further surprised when Tina slowly crouched in front of him. "Are you Harry?" she asked in a kind voice.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded.

"Harry," she smiled encouragingly. "My name is Tina."

"Hello, Tina."

"Hello," she gave him a far nicer smile than she had with Vernon. "Harry, did you happen to hear who I represent?" Harry looked past her to the angered face of his uncle, wanting to answer her but knowing what would happen if he did. As if reading his thoughts, Tina shifted so she remained in his line of sight, blocking his view to Vernon. That gave Harry the confidence to straighten and nod. "Harry, I have a few questions I would like to ask you, away from your aunt and uncle," she told him. "May we talk some place away from your family?"

"Now, see here - !" Vernon began loudly.

Harry winced at the volume, and Tina's eyes narrowed. She swiftly rose to her feet and turned, placing herself between Harry and Vernon. "Mr. Dursley, I am here to speak to Harry," she told him. "And that is what I will do, with or without your permission."

"He is our nephew," Petunia snarled, eyes flashing violently. "He is to stay here!"

"I will be the one who decides that, Mrs. Dursley," Tina said coldly. "Because if my anonymous tip is correct, Harry should not be with this family whatsoever." One could have heard a pin drop, it was that silent in the condo. No one . . . Harry had never heard anyone speak in such a manner to his aunt and uncle! It never ended well for anyone who so much as tried to speak against them!

Vernon's nostrils flared, and he rose to his full height, roaring, "Listen here - !"

"If there is nothing to be concerned about, Mr. Dursley, then you will be just fine with me asking Harry a few questions," Tina interrupted. "After all, if nothing is wrong, there's no harm in asking Harry what his life is like . . . isn't that right?" She made a show of placing her hands on her hips, her coat flaring with the motion. It was then that Harry noticed Vernon take a few steps back, his face rapidly turning from bright red to a sickly gray. Petunia clutched her chest, her eyes wide. Harry's curiosity was piqued rather quickly. What about Tina's posture caused his aunt and uncle to react like this? "Do I need to ask again?" Tina looked from Vernon to Petunia.

Vernon visibly swallowed, but it was Petunia who set her jaw and gave Harry an acidic glare. "Go with her, boy," she hissed. "She can have you the entire day, if she wants."

"Oh, I think I do, Mrs. Dursley," Tina smirked. "Thank you for your permission. We'll see if Harry returns here when I'm finished."

"We can talk away from here?" Harry asked hopefully.

Tina turned to him with a smile. "Of course, Harry," she nodded. "I happen to know the best place to sit and chat." She extended her hand invitingly. "How does that sound?"

Harry never thought twice. "It sounds brilliant," he replied, gratefully taking her hand, hoping this was the chance he had been waiting for all his life.

Judging by the pleased expression on Tina's face, this was indeed the chance he wanted. "Wonderful, Harry. I happen to know the best bakery in the city. I think you'll love what they have to offer."

***

Harry's almond-shaped emerald eyes were as wide as saucers as Tina led the young boy down the streets of New York, keeping their hands tightly clasped. The further they walked from the Dursley residence, the more Harry appeared to come out of his shell, asking Tina about various landmarks around them. Tina answered each question to the best of her ability, already charmed by the boy's manners.

They finally reached the street Tina was looking for, and with a smile, she pointed to the entrance. "Welcome to the best bakery on this side of the country, Harry."

Harry tilted his head, attempting to read the glass sign. "Kowalski Quality Baked Goods," he slowly read. He finally looked up at Tina, blinking. "But I don't have any money."

"Don't worry about money, Harry," Tina shook her head, opening the door and gesturing for him to walk inside. "This bakery is special."

"Ms. Goldstein!" the young woman at the register perked up as Tina closed the door behind her. "Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Mel," Tina nodded, watching with a fond smile as Harry looked at the display cases in awe. "Whatever my friend wants, it's on me."

Harry's head shot up in surprise, his mouth opening to protest. "Ah, you know the rules, Ms. Goldstein," Mel shook her head. "By orders of the boss. Family's orders are on the house."

Tina sighed, shaking her head with a smile. That was Queenie, alright. Ever since she had started running the bakery after Jacob died of old age, his No-Maj status making him unable to take Flamel's Elixir, the younger Goldstein had made it clear that any time Newt, Tina, or - on the extremely rare occasion he took a trip out of England, and even rarer occasion when he stepped foot on American soil - Theseus came to the bakery, their goods were free. I must stop by before I take another trip to the British Ministry, Tina decided. "Thank you, Mel," she said. "Is she in today?"

"She isn't today," Mel shook her head. "She called in when I opened. There was an emergency she had to attend to at home."

Tina rolled her eyes fondly. Trouble on the reserve, she guessed, refraining from snorting into her hand. What have you done this time, Newt? she wondered, thinking of her dramatic, patient, and caring friend. "Thank you, Mel." She patted Harry's shoulder. "Take whatever you want, Harry. As Mel said, my orders are free."

She watched Harry examine every baked good carefully, and she couldn't help but smile when the boy requested a pile of cookies shaped like a familiar creature, one she saw every time she received a Patronus from her British counterpart. Always the nifflers, she thought with fond exasperation as Mel wrapped the cookies for him. "I'll tell the boss you missed her," Mel told Tina. "She'll be sorry she didn't see you."

"Thank you, Mel," Tina nodded, then looked down at Harry. "Where would you like to sit, Harry? I want to make sure you are comfortable with wherever we are."

Harry looked around at the benches and tables outside the bakery, then he took a deep breath. "You're the first one who's taken an interest in what's happening with my family," he said. "I trust you."

Tina smiled gently at the boy, then gestured to a bench just outside the window. "This is the bench I often sit at when I have a moment." Harry nodded, padding over to the bench and hauling himself up. Tina sat next to him, watching New York pedestrians stroll down the sidewalk. This was the perfect place to speak to Harry. She could create a bubble private enough for them to talk, but they also were not completely alone, so there was a lesser chance Harry might be spooked while they talked. "Now," she folded her hands in her lap. "I will give you the choice. Would you like to eat first, talk first, or eat as we talk?"

Harry fiddled with the niffler cookie in his hand. "Both," he finally answered.

"Very well," Tina nodded, gathering her thoughts.

Before she could ask a question, Harry spoke while still flipping a cookie over in his hands. "My aunt and uncle have always hated me." Tina closed her mouth with a soft click, watching Harry break off part of the cookie. "I don't know why," he confessed. "I . . . I think it might have something to do with my parents? They died when I was a baby, and I think they're my only living relatives. Maybe that's why . . . but they've always called me a freak."

Tina nodded, staying quiet, understanding that Harry likely needed to get out everything he wanted to say. "You were placed with them when you were a baby?"

Harry nodded, taking a bite of the cookie. Tina smiled, watching his eyes brighten at the burst of flavor contained in a simple sugar cookie. Queenie had kept all of Jacob's recipes, and she knew the recipe for the niffler cookies was a bakery favorite. But the light dimmed, and Tina steeled herself for whatever Harry was about to reveal next. "I've been hurt since I was four," he said flatly, and one of Tina's hands curled into a fist. "Bruises, broken bones, burns . . . I'm used to not having enough food to eat or water to drink. I'm lucky if I get enough food so my stomach doesn't growl. Before we moved here, Dudley and his friends played a game called 'Harry Hunting.' They chased me around the neighborhood, and it always ended with them beating me up." He looked up at Tina, eyes full of pain, yet no tears were seen. "I hoped that when we moved, someone would notice," he told her. "I wanted someone to see what was happening . . . it's been months, and someone finally is doing something."

Tina swallowed hard, forcing down her rage. This . . . this was what had become of the savior of the Wizarding World? This was the life the great Albus Dumbledore had sentenced an underage boy to? "Harry, you are not a freak," she promised, leaning down so she was eye to eye with him. "And you certainly do not deserve any of that from your aunt, your uncle, or your cousin."

Harry nodded, nibbling on his cookie. "I know," he said quietly.

"Have you ever told anyone what they do?" Tina asked.

Harry shook his head. "Uncle Vernon had a reputation in London," he told her. "He and Aunt Petunia were the perfect couple, and Dudley the perfect son. They kept me out of sight as much as possible, and if anything too serious happened to me - " If I was hurt too badly, Tina realized he meant with a flash of anger. " - Aunt Petunia made up reasons, always blaming me. They made it perfectly clear no one in London would believe me." He finished one of the cookies, then picked at the perfect icing on another. "I hoped New York would be different," he admitted.

"New York is different, Harry," Tina assured him. "I'm here, aren't I?" Harry silently nodded. "And you know what?" She slipped off the bench and crouched in front of the boy, and his eyes met hers. "I'm going to make you a promise, OK?" When Harry nodded again, she continued. "I promise . . . you should never have been abused like that. You are never going back to the Dursleys." A small smile spread on Harry's face -

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you just say the Dursleys?"

The smile slid from Harry's face, and reflexes honed by dozens of years as the head of the American Aurors meant Tina stood and put herself between the young boy and the newcomer. "Excuse me," she narrowed her eyes, one hand ready to draw her wand in case she needed it. "This is a private conversation."

The newcomer looked around at the pedestrians strolling along, then she turned back to Tina, lowering her voice. "If this is something against the Dursleys, then I can help."

Tina saw Harry look at the newcomer curiously at her words, and she frowned, folding her arms. "What do you mean?" she asked. "And who are you?"

The blonde with vivid green eyes, a shade similar to Harry's, held out her hand. "My name's Emma Swan," she introduced herself. "As for your first question . . . let's just say I am very interested in making Vernon Dursley's life hell."

***

And here comes the other savior! Finally, we're going to see how Harry and Emma interact with each other. Tina was the natural choice to drop in and see Harry . . . she has a soft spot for kids, after all. And where else would she take a kid but her late brother-in-law's bakery?

We would have loved to have Jacob still in the story, but we figured that Flamel's Elixir of Life could only be consumed by magical folk. Rest assured, Jacob had a very good, long life with Queenie before he died. We do have good news regarding our favorite Legilimens, though - she will find someone else as the story progresses.

We'll be moving faster with the plot next time . . . Emma's finally here, and boy, has she been doing some work!

 ~ Miss Moffat

***

The plot is finally officially starting! We are working diligently to give you thre best quality writing fro the both of us, so thats probably why writing styles switch in random places. We are finally starting to get out chaotic little family together, and its sure to be a rollarcoaster of emotions.

As we progress with the prologue, you will most certainly see character development for ALL of our favorite characters, specifially Emma and Harry. We want to make sure you relalize that we both love Jacob, and that he had a really amazing life beofre natural causes took him away. Queenie has saved ALL of the recpies Jacob had, and contiously makes them in the bakery, keeping her late husbands memory alive. He is loved, and will never be forgotten by our little family.

Bye for now readers, and as always, stay safe, stay kind, and keep on reading <3

~ Miss Singer