Disclaimer: JKR is queen etc. etc. like seriously you guys know the drill, don't steal my shit

Hey guys so you may or may not have read Born to Die but i took it down because i kind of realized it was going no where but i liked the name for the OC so please dont be confused. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. I REPEAT: THEY ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. alrighty now that we've got that out of the way, please enjoy my rendition of little Potter characters and what Harry's childhood should have been!

Read, Review, and Enjoy,

Stars.

I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean...
And if I said I didn't plan for it to turn out this way I'd be lying...
I was a woman who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

~Lana Del Ray, Ride (the music video)

It was always the same dream.

The flash of green light, the laughter, a woman's whisper, and a flash of silver hair whipping away from him. Harry Potter had never been sure if he had just invented last part as he got older because he could have sworn that in his incredibly young years, such as the age of 3 or 4, that there had been no woman's hair or whisper or even the laughter, just the green light. If he was being honest, the woman's whisper scared him more than the light or the laughter did. Even at the small age of eight that he was now, he understood that she was trying to say something incredibly important to him. She was trying to convey a detail of his life to him before she ran away from his crib, a single sentence, a few words even, and he knew in the core of his being that they would change everything he knew.

If only he could hear more than the indistinct sound of her voice and see more than the back of her head for a few seconds. If only he could understand her.

Harry could, however, understand his Aunt Petunia quite well as she was screaming at him to get up through the cupboard stairs.

"Get up! There's bacon on the oven and you'll be finishing cooking it while I go run Dudley's bath. There'll be Hell to pay if you burn it." She threatened at the end of her command and Harry shuttered, thinking about the last time he had let food on 4 Privet Drive burn. There had been a lashing with Uncle Vernon's belt and a lecture he was pretty sure he'd never un-hear.

"I'm getting up. Just let me find the light you hag." He whispered the last part and there was a sharp,

"What was that?" from the other side of the door

"Nothing, nothing." Harry quickly replied. "I'm getting up." Harry pushed open the cupboard door to reveal that his aunt was (thankfully) walking away from where he was emerging. Harry quickly shuffled into the kitchen, which was blissfully empty, to make sure the bacon didn't, heavens forbid, burn. He found the footstool he used to reach the oven (he was greatly looking forward to the day he didn't have to use the thing) and checked the bacon's crispiness. He poked it with the spatula next to the oven and sighed. He missed his parents. He didn't even remember them, but he missed them, for a terribly simple reason: they had to have been better than the Dursleys. There was no alternative. They had to.

As he was mulling this over, there was a flash of light in the kitchen and Harry blindly brandished his spatula in case it was Dudley trying out fireworks inside or something. But it wasn't. When the light cleared, there was a glowing, silver, dog in the kitchen. But as Harry stepped on his footstool and approached the dog, he realized that it was a bit too big to be a dog.

"Are…are you a wolf?" The large creature nodded its great head slowly and then brushed up against the young boy's arm. When he touched the animal, he felt warmth and love emanating from it, but there was a tinge of grief in the wolf too. Grief and sadness. The door banged open and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon walked in and spotted the wolf. Petunia screamed, Vernon shouted at it, and Dudley, who entered after his parents, passed out. The wolf stood and spoke to Harry's aunt.

"Remember who he is, Petunia. And remember who I am." Harry's jaw dropped. It was her voice. As the wolf finished speaking, it vanished into a swirl of silver mist that quickly dissipated in the air conditioning of the house.

"Harry Potter! What were you thinking, letting that—that thing into the house?!"

"I didn't let it in! It just appeared—it was like magic!" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt,

"There is no such thing as magic!" Petunia screamed,

"Vernon. Vernon! Put him down! Didn't you hear her? They're watching us and the last thing any of us need is for her to think that we're mistreating him."

"Oh, come on, what is that woman going to do? She hasn't shown her face since before he was born, she can come and get me for all I care! Her and her murdering husband! Oh wait, that's right, he's in jail." Aunt Petunia's face paled and there was a knock at the door. Uncle Vernon quickly dropped Harry and said, "Petunia, go upstairs and get my gun."

"Vernon—"

"Petunia. Gun. Now." Aunt Petunia vanished up the stairs as the knocking got more and more insistent at the front door. Dudley began to come back around and Vernon said to him,

"Dudders, you got to stay back here in the Kitchen, got it?" Dudley nodded his beefy head and Vernon addressed Harry, "You are going to your cupboard." Harry was unceremoniously tossed into the cupboard and the door was locked behind him. Harry anxiously pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear what was going on, on the other side of that flimsy wooden cover.

He heard someone open the door and a metallic click. Uncle Vernon's gun, Harry figured.

"Hello Petunia, Vernon. How are you this marvelous…oh is it afternoon already? Hm, all this travelling is really getting the better of me. None of us are as young as we used to be, especially you, eh Tuney?" Harry gasped. It was her. There was a tinkling laugh from her and Aunt Petunia remained dead silent.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are lady—"

"No, the real question is who do you think you are, Vernon? You are mistreating the Boy-Who-Lived, and because you asked so nicely, here I am, to 'come and get you'." Harry could hear the quotes in her voice and the venom hidden behind the façade of cheer, "Oh and don't bother with the gun. In case you haven't noticed I'm remarkably difficult to kill, rather like your nephew, wouldn't you say? But you see, we're all very much the same. You feel pain in the same ways we do. You scream like us, your bones break like ours, you bleed like us, and you can die like us, too." The cheer had vanished and her voice was cold, "But you're different from Harry and I at the same time. You're a lot easier to kill. You're weaker. If that little boy I know you have locked in that cupboard could kill you accidentally, imagine what I could do."

"Why are you really here, Masters?"

"It's Black, Petunia, in case you've forgotten, which I seriously doubt considering your husband's outburst just minutes ago. And I want to see Harry. I locked something in his head the night his parents were killed and I'd very much like it back." Harry smiled in the dark. It was her. The lady with the silver hair. He began to bang on the door.

"Let me out!" Moments after he shouted the door unlocked to reveal a young woman, no more than 26 or 27, with long silver hair and blue eyes.

"Hello, Harry. My name is Danilynn Black. I'm your Godmother." Harry observed her shyly, not quite sure of how she was going to treat him, you could never tell. But he trusted her because of her dreams, so he answered her.

"Hello, Miss. Danilynn." She laughed and pulled him out of the cupboard and into a big hug, taking him by surprise,

"Oh gosh, call me Dany, that's what you called me as a little one. Well it was more like 'Annie' but you get the idea."

"I knew you as a baby?" She nodded at him,

"Yep, you sure did. I was your mom's best friend. That's why I'm your Godmother. Harry dear, have you been having dreams? Bad dreams with green lights in them?" He nodded at her enthusiastically, eager to tell her what he knew.

"Yeah. Every night I see a green light. And your hair. I hear you whispering to me in my crib."

"What do I say?" Harry feels his face fall.

"I—I don't know. I can't hear you. I can hear just a bunch of sounds, but no words. What you're saying to me is short though. A sentence or two at the most. But I can never understand you. I'm sorry." She smiled at him and said,

"I'm not surprised. It will come with time. Now, how about we get you out of this house for a little while?" Harry nodded to her excitedly and rushed past her, out of the cupboard. His aunt and uncle were standing in front of the door, which was still hanging ajar from his Godmother's entrance. Both of their mouths were hanging open and were staring at Dany, flabbergasted.

Dany stood to her full height and took Harry's hand, something that no one had ever done before.

"Dany?" She looked down at him gently,

"Yes, Harry?"

"There's a man laughing, too. In my dream there's always a man laughing." A dark shadow crossed over her face and said,

"Is there really? We'll talk about that at lunch, okay?" As they were walking out of the door away from 4 Privet Drive, Danilynn Black, wife of Sirius Black and Godmother of Harry Potter called out to her best friend's sister, "Oh and Petunia? I'd check on that bacon if I were you. You wouldn't want it to burn."