2

Chapter 1: The Dursley's Great American Adventure

Boston, Massachusetts

Harry Potter decided that he hated airports.

He supposed if you weren't a freak, in the words of his precious relatives, it wouldn't be so bad.

Dudley seemed to be having quite the good time. But, unlike him, Dudley got to sit in first class during the eight hour long flight across the ocean and didn't have an aisle seat.

Though Harry would concede that the plane ride beat any day at the Dursleys. Even if the man who sat next to him hogged the armrest and the dinner tasted like cardboard. Harry could actually attest to that since Dudley had forced him to eat cardboard one time.

Something Harry did not wish to remember

What was so bad about the airport was that Harry found himself entirely dependent on the Dursleys. As bad as Privet Drive was, at least he could be somewhat independent. He knew his way around the neighborhood and the Dursleys pretty much left him alone unless it was time to eat or Petunia had company and needed her house/garden to be perfect.

You'd think at the airport, he'd pretty much be left alone. But no, the Dursleys were ultra paranoid, the cure of which was apparently picking on Harry.

Harry was not amused.

Seriously, if he really was the root of all evil like the Durselys were making him out to be, then they really shouldn't pick on him. But anytime he said something like that or mentioned that he might perform a spell or two that he learned at school that year, well, Vernon—the tub of lard—didn't take kindly to it. Neither did Petunia either. But she couldn't backhand him like Vernon could. Although, she could find some sadistic chore for him to do.

Dudley, on the other hand, was more often than not pretty oblivious to any sort of witty retort Harry had. And if he did suspect anything, you could remedy the situation pretty fast by pointing out what was on the telly at that point of day.

"Bloody Americans," Vernon said for what had to be at least the fifteenth time since their plane had landed (an hour ago).

"So uncivilized." Petunia added, frowning at a girl whose hair was dyed pink. Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Petunia caught it. "You think you're smart?"

"I didn't say anything, Aunt Petunia."

"You didn't have to." She snapped. "I see it written all over your freakish face."

"Mummy," Dudley interjected, interrupting this family bonding session. "When are we going to get to the hotel? They have satellite, don't they? I can't miss my show."

"We have to drive a little bit, darling." Petunia soothed. "I'm sure if you miss it, it will be on in reruns."

"But I don't want reruns." Dudley whined.

His cousin was twelve-years old and yet he was whining worse than he was when he was six. Seriously, it wasn't like he was missing Doctor Who or anything; it was just a stupid cartoon.

"There's a pool at the resort we're staying," said Petunia, trying to lighten up the mood as Vernon steered the rental car onto the highway.

"It's cold outside." Dudley continued to whine. "Why did this conference have to take place in stupid Maine? I wanted to go to California. That's where all the movie stars are."

"More freaks." Vernon muttered.

"Not everyone's a wizard." Harry piped in, biting his lip as soon as he said the barb.

He could see Vernon's face turning puce in the rearview mirror. "What did I say about the 'W' word, boy?"

Harry sighed, "Sorry."

"Oh, you will be," threatened Vernon before turning his attention back to Petunia, "Pet, do you have the map?"

"Map?" His aunt asked, confused.

"Yes, map. You know, so we won't drive to California where all those nutters are."

"Daddy, not nutters, stars!"

"Most of them take up the dole, Dudders. Walking around the streets. The wankers."

Petunia waved a hand in a dramatic fluttering motion. "Vernon, your blood pressure!"

Vernon ignored her and continued his tirade about lazy Americans. The map was quickly forgotten.

Harry's opinion about the country he was currently lost in was rather neutral. Not that he had seen much. Just girls with edgy haircuts, a rental car agency, the outskirts of Boston, and now middle of nowheresville Maine. But at least the hotel had a pool, right?

It wasn't like it was Hogwarts.

God, Harry missed his school so much, and his friends too. It was the first time he really felt like he belonged, or sort of had a feeling of belonging. Though, to be honest, he often wondered just how much he belonged in Hogwarts. Sure he could do spells, but something about using his wand just didn't feel right. He couldn't explain it. Same with his friendships, which was ridiculous because Ron and Hermione were great.

It was probably because he never had friends before.

How sad did that sound?

He didn't even want to think about it. Instead he decided to play the game of how long it would take Vernon to realize his gaslight was on. Would it be before or after they got to civilization? Personally Harry was hoping for after, because he did not need to hear a rant about how despite having a McDonalds on every street corner, America was not that convenient when it came to having useful things like petrol stations.

Of course, Harry had no such luck. And of course Vernon's rants lead to a hysterical Petunia and a disillusioned Dudley who was claiming he only had thirty minutes until his show started.

"Its all his fault," Vernon called, his attention turned back to Harry.

Now would be the time to take out the invisibility cloak. If—well, he did have it with him. Since it was currently in his trunk back in Privite Drive, Harry didn't have that luxury. He had to be visible on the pick on Harry rant.

Goody.

He should've bought popcorn.

After years of this sort of garbage, Harry knew that the best thing to do was to just sit there let Vernon rant and try, just try, not to let him get to him. Of course, sometimes Vernon just pushed things too far. And Harry felt like there was almost a switch of sorts that was being set off.

Where Harry would be downright ruthless.

Of course, this usually got him locked in the cupboard more than anything else. But occasionally he might get a barb past Vernon or sometimes his accidental magic would get the best of him.

When he was younger, he didn't know it was accidental magic though. He just thought it was a random case of good luck. Like Vernon randomly tripping when he attempted to chase Harry. Or Harry being able to turn invisible out of nowhere. Of course he knew what it was now, and a year of Hogwarts curbed a lot of accidental magic.

"You think you're so smug, boy. One year of that freak school and you think you can get away with anything."

Harry didn't say anything.

This seemed to send Vernon on a bigger tangent about how Harry was being blatantly disobedient.

Harry had had enough. "Pay attention to the road, Uncle Bernon."

"What?" Vernon asked turning a shade of puce before turning around again.

God, Harry could use some chocolate right now. He was getting a bit of motion sickness. It probably didn't help that the roads were horribly paved, either. Where were they?

It was too bad he couldn't use magic. He did know how to use a Point Me spell. Well, the theory behind it. It was technically a fourth year charm but he did occasionally read further in the books, though he wasn't a walking library like Hermione.

Seriously, he loved reading as much as the next person, but he would never try to memorize the entire Hogwarts library—a little ridiculous and not that practical, especially when some of the books were pretty worthless. Like really, who thought that a book on magic fashions of the eighteenth century was really an educational read? Besides Hermione, and maybe Professor Dumbledore who wore probably some of the most bizarre clothes Harry had ever seen.

"Boy, aren't you going to say something?"

"Pay attention to the road." Harry repeated.

"Not if you're going to do something freaking to me." Vernon spat.

Much to Harry's surprise at this point Petunia decided to speak up. "The boy does have a point, Vernon. It's obvious we're lost. And you're almost out of petrol. We should probably try to find some sort of town soon. I don't want to be caught in the middle of nowhere."

"Where not going to be in the middle of nowhere," soothed Vernon. "I know just where we are, Pet."

And where would that be, Harry thought, the middle of nowhere? Somewhere in Maine.

"Vernon," Petunia said, beginning to sound a touch frantic. "I think you were supposed to make a right turn awhile back."

"It's all his fault."

Of course, when you can't find any other excuse for your stupidity.

"You think you're so funny boy? Well, if you're so funny zap us to Augusta."

"Vernon, no." Petunia said surprisingly defending Harry for the second time today. "I know this is America but if the car appears out of nowhere—"

Harry wished he could zap them to where they wanted to get going so that maybe he could run off to the cabana area or some part of the resort where the Dursleys wouldn't be in close proximately. Really, the last thing he wanted was to be with them. But try telling Vernon that. He and Petunia kept arguing about being stuck in nowheresville until they ran completely out of gas.

And then they were just sitting there.

In the middle of the highway.

Like sitting ducks waiting for some speeding car to come along and rear-end them.

Like the whole get a map before you got on the road thing, this seemed to go by Vernon's head. To be fair to him, he was already worked up into a wicked temper tantrum at this point. And the fact he was out of gas seemed to make him lose all sense of logic.

And of course he turned all his aggression on Harry instead of telling everyone to get out of the car and try to push it to the side of the road so that they wouldn't get into a wreck. And of course as fate would have it, a ridiculously expensive sports car that was speeding decided to hit them at that moment. And Harry saw black.

When he woke up there were lights all around him. And he was no longer in the car. He was in a bed. And he heard beeping. And God did his head hurt. So much.

What was most surprising though was that when he opened his eyes everything was eerily clear. And he didn't have his glasses on.

For as long as he remembered, Harry had been blind as a bat. If he didn't have his glasses on, he probably couldn't tell you what color your hair was. But now he could see everything. It was obvious that he was in a hospital room. A private hospital room. Something the Durselys would never have paid for.

He also noticed that there was someone in his room. Not a doctor or a nurse, but a man in a rather expensive looking suit who was staring at him. He smiled eerily when he noticed that Harry was awake.

"I see you've woken up." The man said.

Harry noted he had an accent, Scottish. He tried not to think much of it. There were lots of Scottish people in America, just like there were lots of English people and for that matter people of other nationalities. America wasn't called the great melting pot for nothing. Still, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit relaxed that there was someone close to home in his room. Albeit, a stranger.

"Where am I?" Harry said noting his own voice sounded a little hoarse.

"Storybrooke, Maine." The man answered, his eyes not leaving Harry's face. "You were in automobile accident, do you remember anything?"

"Just Uncle Vernon throwing a tantrum." Harry said. "He is okay, isn't he?"

"The other riders of the car are fine." The man replied. "Just in for observation. You on the other hand…"

"I feel fine." Harry said.

The man shook his head. "No, you're not. Trust me when I say that…err…Harry."

"You know my name?" He asked.

"Your—Petunia decided to share that information with us." There seemed to be a look of disgust that came over the man's face when he said Petunia's name. Harry couldn't blame him. Knowing Petunia she probably told the man something about how long his hair was or that he was show-offy with his expensive suits. Or, for that matter, she might've called the entire town freaks since Vernon didn't have enough common sense to not pull over and get rear ended by a freaking Porsche.

"What's your name?" Harry found himself asking.

"Gold," answered the man. "Mr. Gold."

"So, are you my doctor?" Harry asked because he couldn't figure out why else the man was in there.

The man laughed as if Harry had said something hilarious. "No, I'm not a doctor."

"Then why—"

"Why am I here?" Mr. Gold began, scratching his chin. "That's a good question. What do you know about your parents, Harry?"

Harry looked at Gold more carefully. Was it possible that he was a wizard? By the way the man was dressed, you wouldn't think so. Most wizards seemed out of place in muggle clothes, let alone muggle designer suits. However, there was something about Gold that definitely didn't ring muggle. Deciding to see what Gold would do, Harry decided to use the Dursley's version of how his parents died. "They passed away when I was a baby in a car accident."

Gold shook his head. "You're not a good liar. That's a surprise."

"I'm not lying," Harry snapped, his sizeable temper flaring up. "They are dead."

"Actually," Gold snapped. "They're not."

Harry was quite pissed now. He always had a massive temper, and it had gotten him into loads of trouble. He wasn't sure where he had gotten it from; James and Lily were apparently rather laid-back. "My mother sacrificed her life for me, they're dead. Trust me."

Gold started laughing as if Harry had something that was utterly hilarious, which was ridiculous because there was nothing hilarious about what happened in Godric's Hollow all those years ago.

Harry glared at him, feeling his eyebrow twitch in anger. "I don't see what's so funny about my mum dying."

Gold shook his head. "Because that woman wasn't your mother."

"What? Of course, Lily Potter was my mother. Everyone says I have her eyes. She's the reason I lived with Petunia for all these years."

Gold shook his head, "She's not your mother."

"Okay, then who is?" Harry hissed. Gold must have seen something amusing in his expression, because his lips turned up slightly in amusement.

"A woman named Cora." A look of disgust came over his face.

"I take it you don't like her very much."

"No, no, I don't. Especially since she gave away my son."

"Your son?"

"Yes," Gold tilted his chin up slightly and looked down his nose at Harry. "My son. You. You're my son."