Both of his 'parents' frowned, "Then who raised you? Merilyn, forbid you ended up in an orphanage."
"Family," he muttered, hoping at least one of the adults in the room would take the cue and end the discussion.
But of course, life could never be that easy.
"I have no other living relatives," James declared, "Assuming this other world is similar then who did you end up with?"
"I didn't say your family…" was the whispered response, earning confusion from all save one. One woman who made the connections, one who whispered her own question a moment later.
"Did they leave you with Petunia?"
Embarrassment, guilt, anger, hurt, and a dozen other emotions burned through his veins as Harry looked away, forcing the tears to remain hidden.
"I'm… I'm so sorry Harry."
The confusion that shifted between the two green-eyed individuals was obvious, and Lily took it upon herself to clarify the sudden shift in mood. "My sister is… awful. She always hated Magic and I have taken it upon myself to ensure she has nothing to do with our family. Why you would ever end up with her is…"
But the redhead merely shook her head, trying her hardest not to sweep the boy into a hug. It was too early for such things, and she knew it. They weren't his parents, weren't even his family.
"As I said, I believe the best course of action for now is to have Harry stay at Hogwarts. He will be well cared for, and it gives us time to figure out how to address the situation we now have. If you were to take him home the media would be left free to speculate and focus their attention on him, and that is situation I am sure none of us want."
****
A wand idly twirled about in between the long, slender fingers of its owner. Nearby a quill scratched continuously on a piece of parchment. Letter after letter, word after word. Yet the one whose thoughts it recorded paid it no mind.
Two days later and a single event still occupied her thoughts, still demanded her attention. A mysterious young boy with blazing green eyes.
He had recognized her, or at least her name, that much was for certain, yet his reaction remained a mystery. The boy had passed out, though the exact cause of his reaction she couldn't quite figure out. At the time she felt an odd pull towards him, a connection¸ and thus hadn't truly focused in on his features.
That had come later, and while going through her previous memories the similarities between him and a student from the past became obvious. The boy was related to James Potter, that much was clear, although the exact connection was not.
So, she scoured newspaper articles and registries of names. His name came up often, as the older families usually did, along with records of his family. He had been married to a Muggleborn witch, and years later they had twin daughters.
But there were no mentions of a son, and he had no living relatives, at least none that would be close enough in blood to have a child with such similarities. The first obvious conclusion was he had either been a donor or a breeder. The former was far more likely, based on his own progress at Hogwarts, natural talents, and Pureblood status.
There were no public documents or contracts, however, which meant the second could be possible as well, even if such a thing would be considerably rarer, especially with his marriage to a Muggleborn. For a moment the professor even contemplated whether it was Dumbledore's child, but that idea was quickly dismissed. Sure, the headmistress could still have children, even without potions or ritual enhancements magical fertility lasted well past a century, but the staff would have noticed such a thing, she would have noticed it as well and Dumbledore would not have hidden a child for so long, not with her own political position.
A different witch then?
The woman racked her brain for any members of high society who had been pregnant around the same time but whose child managed to escape public scrutiny. None came to mind.
Regardless, the headmistress had been very keen on protecting him, scooping him up and immediately leaving the area the moment he lost consciousness. This could only mean a connection of some kind, but what?
More important than this was the connection Riddle felt with the boy. That had certainly not been a coincidence, nor his reaction to her name.
The boy was a mystery, one which grew with every passing hour that Dumbledore kept her lips sealed concerning him, his origins, and his state. Grace, and seemingly the rest of the magical world, was being kept in the dark regarding the boy, and it only served to pique her interest.