AN: Hey, I'm really not a fan of Hermione/Ron, so that will not be included in this story. But I am thinking of Hermione/Draco, Hermione/Sirius, or Hermione/Regulus. You can vote which one that you would most like.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.

The Boy Who Lived

Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys' went over to sit next to Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Charlus and Dorea Potter, where a space had been cleared for them to sit.

However, Draco Malfoy didn't know exactly what to do. Was he to go and sit with the rest of the time travelers, or was he to sit with the younger version of his mom and dad? But seeing the expectant eyes of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, he walked to the Slytherin table without hesitation.

"Well, if we're all comfortable, I would like to start us off with reading," rumbled Dumbledore's voice as he picked up the first book and flipped to the first chapter. "The Boy Who Lived" he read.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Sirius snorted. "Why on earth would you want to be normal?" he asked no one particular.

"I have to agree with you on this one dear cousin, why would anyone want to be normal?" Bellatrix questioned. Bellatrix turned to her sisters as if expecting an answer.

"That's the thing about the Dursleys," Harry spoke up. "The hate anything that's not normal," he finished with a shrug of his shoulders. Bella let out a snort of disgust. Why would anyone want to be normal?

Most of the Great Hall had along the same thoughts as Bellatrix.

They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.

"Drills? What are those?" asked James, who was finally just getting over the shock of having a son with the love of his life. he looked over to Lily, then to Harry.

"Drills are a muggle invention. They make holes," Lily answered simply, not really wanting to go into detail.

Why on earth would muggles need to drill holes? Orion thought with a sneer. Nothing about muggles made sense.

He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. What a horrific description. She looked over to Lucius and was extremely glad that she had a wizard with not only a good name, but also a handsome face. Not that that really mattered anyway, she thought, I would have loved him anyways.

Walburga was quite disgusted with the description as well, she was glad that she had a husband like Orion. As well as two handsome boys like Regulus and Sirius. Sirius. Why did he have to turn his back on everything they taught him? Why can't he see that muggles were disgusting creatures? She did love Sirius, even if she didn't show it. That's just how pureblood wives were supposed to be.

"Lovely description," Regulus said sarcastically, at the same time as Sirius had said "Sounds handsome" in the same tone. They looked over at each other, shocked; While Orion and Walburga look at the two thoughtfully. Maybe Sirius is not as lost as we originally thought.

Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.

"Someone's nosey," James muttered.

She sounds just like my sister, Petunia, thought Lily. Severus, who had met Petunia before, had the same thoughts as Lily, but in a more negative way.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

"How much do you want to bet that he is spoilt," Sirius asked Remus loud enough for pretty much the whole hall to hear. Remus just shook his head with a small smile.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

Hey, nothing is wrong with the Potters. There the most wonderful family you could ever find," Sirius stood up and shouted in anger. Everyone looked shocked at the amount of anger displayed on his face, while the Blacks' couldn't help realize how much he looked like Orion at that moment.

Walburga and Orion couldn't help but feel it was suppose to be there family, The Most Noble and Most ancient House of Black, which he should be defending, not the Potters, the Potters were not his family, they were.

Regulus looked up at the amount of courage he had, shouting that to everyone while mom, dad, uncle and auntie were in the room that was amazing. But Regulus couldn't help the nagging feeling of jealousy he had overcoming, he wished his brother would defend him like that.

"Thanks son," Charlus Potter smiled at Sirius, Orion just scowled.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

"UnDursleyish as possible? That's not even a word?" Hermione spoke for the first time, outraged at the mere thought of putting a non-existing word into a book. Ron just shook his head fondly, same old Hermione.

"Mom, Dad, I would take that as a complement," Harry said seriously, while looking into their eyes. James and Lily both had a look of shock as Harry called them mom and dad, but quickly transformed their shocked faces as genuine smiles.

"Never wanted to be Dursleyish anyways, son," James replied back, hesitating a smidge on the 'son' part. Harry had an equally shocked face, never once remembering either of his parents calling him son. "er- sorry 'bout your sister Lilyflower," James went on.

Lily nodded her head sadly, "it's been like that for a while now, nothing to worry over." Despite the circumstances, James was secretly cheering, for he had called Lily Lilyflower and she didn't even hex him once, this was quite the productive day.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.

"Don't even think of it you two," Remus told James and Sirius, who both had been coming up with plans to visit the Dursleys.

Sirius whined, "oh come on Mooney, sometimes you can be such a party pooper,"

The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

"And I forbid you from letting your son mix with a child like that," Charlus commanded James.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work,

Regulus wrinkled his nose, why would anyone ever want to wear a boring tie to work? Why not a fun tie? Why did muggles have to be so boring?

and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

Both Walburga and Druella looked horrified at having something in common with muggles, gossiping.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

Lucius sneered, "These muggles are very unobservant"

"When would you like your award for pointing out the obvious Blondie?" Sirius asked in a somewhat sarcastic tone. This caused several laughs from the Gryffindor table and one from Mr. Regulus Black at the Slytherin table, as well as a tiny smile from both Walburga and Orion, they never really did like Lucius. A slight pink color formed on Lucius's pale cheeks.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"What a brat," exclaimed James, looking somewhat horrified.

"You have no idea," Harry spoke up. Over at the Slytherin table they were having a little conversation of their own.

"That is certainly no way to handle a child," Walburga declared. "Regulus, you better not ever have a brat like that," she finished. Regulus just nodded his head.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.

"He's encouraging it?" Narcissa asked in disbelief. Her face was one of pure shock and disgust.

"Filthy muggles can't even raise children properly," Druella said, agreeing with her daughter.

He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat

reading a map.

"That has to be Minnie," Sirius said, using his nickname for the professor. "What makes you say that?" asked Ron, speaking up for the first time. "well it's a cat…reading a map. What other cats do you know read maps?" Sirius explained as if talking to a five-year old. "point taken," Ron replied back.

For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of?

"Easy, he wasn't thinking," retorted Sirius, with the dislike of the muggle evident in his voice. Some people looked over at him uneasily, thinking how much he sounded like his parents.

It must have been a trick of the light.

"Yes, cause there's no possible way for a cat to read a map," Lucius said sarcastically, "idiots."

Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.

"I don't know about muggle cats, but I'm pretty sure that Minnie can read," James said seriously. Minerva just shook her head, as she had given up long ago trying to get those boys not to call her that.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.

"What's so strange about people in cloaks?" Regulus asked no one in particular.

"Muggles don't wear cloaks, they wear things like t-shirts and jeans," replied Sirius casually. Most people turned to him in shock; he was a pureblood, so how did he know what muggles ware? Seeing all the questioning looks, Sirius gave a quick explanation, "I take muggle studies," Orion and Walburga looked absolutely livid, while Bellatrix and Narcissa just looked a little disappointed. Regulus and Andromeda on the other hand didn't look like this bothered them at all, quite the opposite, they looked a little intrigued.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people!

"Yes, how dare young people ware such funny clothes," James impersonated Mr. Dursley in a weird old man voice. This got a few laughs from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table.

He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.

"Oi, we're not weirdos! You're the weirdo! With your weird drills and bratty son," shouted Sirius furiously. He had a rage in his eyes that could only be described as a trait from the noble house of Black. Orion and Walburga just looked over at him with a gleam of pride in their eyes.

They were whispering excitedly together.

"What could be happening to make us wizards act like that," muttered Rabastan quietly to his older brother Rodolphus. Rodolphus had his eyes narrowed thinking.

He leaned back over to Rabastan and muttered, "I don't know, but you will be the first to know when I find out." Then proceeded to wink at Bellatrix, who had looked over at him. She looked away quickly, but not before he saw her cheeks flush a little pink, he smirked.

Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him!

"Yes, the nerve of him!" shouted James all of the sudden. He got some weird looks. "he's prancing around in Slytherin colors, how dare he," he explained his outburst. Most of the hall just shook their heads fondly, but the Slytherin table, who had turned their icy glares to him.

But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight,

By now, most of the Great Hall had the same idea as the Lestrange brothers, what was going on in their precious wizarding world?

though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.

"Oh yes, what a progressive mourning it is, yelling at people is always how I get my day started," joked George, speaking up for the first time. "Well, for him it is," stated Harry.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road

"What!" Harry shouted. "He walked!" most of the hall laughed at that, even the some of the Slytherins' had smiles.

to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

"Oh, well then that explains it. All is right in the world once again," concluded Harry, relieved that some things still made since.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too,

Hermione looked over at Harry, he looked broken. He shouldn't have to hear this, she thought, for she knew what day this probably was. Others in the Great Hall just had a confused expression on their faces.

and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"

"Potters? Jamesie-boy, what did you do now," asked Sirius in a teasing tone. James just shrugged, not knowing what to say.

" — yes, their son, Harry —"

"What about Harry? What has happened to my grandson?" asked Dorea, who was looking worriedly at Harry. Harry blinked, he had not ever had grandparents and wasn't used to their worrying.

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

"Yes! The git is dead," shouted Sirius excitedly. A lot of the students looked hopeful.

Fear flooded him.

"Darn it, he's not dead," James said, getting disapproving looks from his mother.

He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.

"aha, so the fat muggle agrees that he's stupid," Said Sirius, with a smirk planted on his face. Regulus snickered at this, and a slight smile shown on Walburga and Orions face.

Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

"Yes it is," stated James confusedly. Hermione and Lily both rolled their eyes. "In the muggle world it is, Black is also very common in the muggle world," Hermione explained. James and Sirius nodded their heads in unison, while most of the Blacks' over at the Slytherin table looked disgusted at having something similar with such filth.

He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry.

"He doesn't even know his own nephew's name?" questioned Dorea to no one in particular. Everybody had a look of complete and utter shock on their face. Even Walburga, Orion, Druella and Cygnus had horrified looks. Even though the boy had a mudblood mother, no one deserved that.

He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.

This just got worse looks from people. "They don't know your name?" questioned James. Harry just shook his head. "I still don't think they know my name," he muttered.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that…

"A sister like what," questioned James had the most terrifying scowl on his face that even Sirius was slowly scooting away from him. "He means wizard. The Dursleys' hate anything related to magic," Harry explained. Most everybody in the Great Hall (except the time travelers') wondered how Harry would know. They didnt think that James or Lily would ever let Harry associate with a family like the Dursleys'.

but all the same, those people in cloaks…

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted,

Harry looked quite surprised at this. "He actually said sorry" he questioned.

as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

Silence filled the Great Hall. Most everyone was too shocked to do anything. They just sat there with a shocked expression plastered on their faces.

The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black were completely shocked, but covered it up quickly. It was widely known that they were a more dark family, but they haven't exactly joined Voldemort yet. Sure, they were thinking about it very seriously, was it the right thing? What advantage would it give them? But now, he didn't sound like the best side to be on. The Lestrange brothers and Malfoy looked to be having the same train of thought.

Then, Sirius spoke up, "Is it really true?" he asked the people from the future. Harry just nodded his head solemnly. "Yes! The bastard is finally dead!" Sirius jumped up and yelled in joy. Everyone looked at him, most too shocked to correct his cussing. Then, everyone else was jumping up and celebrating. (well… most everyone) even Regulus and Severus smiled, afraid to show to much emotion in front of the whole Slytherin table. After everyone quieted down, Dumbledore continued reading.

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

"His arms would fit?" George asked, trying to lighten the mood. A few people laughed, but most were traumatized about Voldemort being gone.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle,

"But he is a muggle," most purebloods' voiced their opinions.

whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

"How can you not approve of imagination?" Dorea asked no one in particular. Most people just shrugged, not sure of what to say.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Minnie," whispered Sirius, Remus just slapped him on the back of the head, eager to get on with the book.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

"That wont work if its Minnie," James said, backing up his best friend on his estimated guess. While Remus just shook his head, giving up.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior?

"It is for Minnie," Sirius nodded his head in agreement with his best friend.

Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have

been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…

"What is going on," Regulus questioned. People didn't know how to answer his question, they didn't know themselves. (except the future people)

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"Lily, I'm so sorry, about your sister," James whispered to Lily. She smiled up at him.

"It's okay, im used to it by now," she answered simply, as if it didn't matter. A lot of people looked over at her with sympathy.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

"And what does Lily have to do with funny looking people," Sirius asked "There is nothing wrong with Lily," he finished

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."

"Her crowd? Who are these people to think that they are inferior to wizards?" Bellatrix asked, enraged, forgetting that Lily was a muggleborn.

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"No, that's just the way she talks," Harry said, and Lily silently agreed with him.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Howard? I would never name my kid Howard," James proclaimed, as if it was the most terrible thing in the world.

"I'm with you there mait," Sirius agreed, his nose scrunched up in disgust, looking quite like his cousin Narcissa.

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"I think that it's a lovely name," Lily assured Harry.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

"Oi, like Dudley is much better," James said, sticking up for his son.

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

'Why is McGonagall still there?' wondered Rodolphus. 'Why does she care about a bunch of muggles?'

Almost everyone in the Great Hall had around the same train of thought.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters

were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…

How very wrong he was.

"Well that can't be good," muttered Regulus, although he must have said it louder than he thought, because he was getting a few weird stares from people. "What?" he asked, "I'm stating a fact. It couldn't be good if Dursley is involved in something with the wizarding world.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

"No really? And here I thought he was Voldemort," Harry said sarcastically. This got many flinches out of people but Harry just rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. It's just a name. If you have fear in a name, than he's won, and he has a hold over you," Harry finished. Dumbledore nodded solemnly, it looked as if this boy, however young he might be, held plenty of wisdom.

A lot of people were looking at Harry with an awed expression. Even Bellatrix eyed the boy, admitting to how brave he sounded.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched,

"Well, that kind of sounds creepy," commented Sirius. He got a few looks from his table.

because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

"Aha, I knew it. I knew it all along," Sirius jumped up and shouted to all of great hall. Remus face palmed while James sat there amused. The Blacks' were just staring at him, disbelieving.

"Um, no one really doubted you," commented Harry, he was surprised at how immature the younger Sirius was, but then again, twelve years in Azkaban can sober you up pretty quickly.

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"What? Dedalus Diggle is awesome!" exclaimed James.

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

"Wow, people are pretty excited," commented Harry. "Do you think they know the cost yet?" he asked Hermione, a bit of bitterness in his voice. Although he meant for only Hermione to hear, it came out louder, and the whole of Great Hall heard. Confusion seeped through everyone's mind, what was the price that Potter Jr. was talking about? Why did he sound so bitter about it?

Before anyone else could, Bellatrix asked him the question, "What price?" her face held the expression of pure curiosity, and she ignored the disapproving looks of her parents.

"Er- the book will probably mention it," Harry replies, a little uneasy at even talking with Bellatrix. He had to constantly keep reminding himself that all of these future Death Eaters haven't done a thing yet, it was hard.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything.

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table and noticed that a lot of the future Death Eaters were listening intently.

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?" asked a random Slytherin.

"A what?"

Random Slytherin mentioned before blushed.

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."

Most of the occupants in the Great Hall flinched.

Professor McGonagall flinched,

but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

Harry nodded, and Ron just shook his head, he knew how much his best friend was obsessed with people saying Voldemort instead of You-Know-Who.

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you are too noble to use them professor," Lily stated, smiling up at Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled back down at her as most of the Great Hall silently agreed, even the Slytherins'.

"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."

Lily blushed at saying the same thing as McGonagall.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Most of the great hall looked sickened at this. "eh- way to much information professor," Sirius commented, looking an unhealthy shade of green.

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

"What finally stopped him?" asked Sirius excitedly. James smacked the back of his head.

"Well if you are quiet and we keep reading, then I'm quite positive that we will find out, you ding-dong," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

Meanwhile, over at the Slytherin table, Bellatrix rolled her eyes at her cousin's behavior, typical Sirius, she thought fondly. Yes, fondly, Bellatrix quite liked her family, no matter how cold she can come off. The truth was that she had been born and raised that way, not to let any emotions show. But she still loved Sirius, blood traitor or not.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.

"No, no, no, he cant do that," Sirius said, then kept ranting on about how they were to good, and why did Voldemort have to go after them. Remus's face had paled considerably, this cant be happening, he thought.

The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."

A silence went over the Great Hall. The silence dragged on and on, nobody saying anything for an immeasurable amount of time, until a sob came from no other than McGonagall. This seemed to shock everyone back into their normal state. Sirius hugged James, than Lily, as did Remus, Peter, and pretty much everyone in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Some Slytherins bowed their head respectively, and some just had a blank expression.

Harry couldn't swallow, his eyes felt watery, basically crappy. He didn't want to hear about this. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. It was James. James had a ghost of a smile as he tried to comfort his son.

"This is the price you were talking about, wasn't it?" he asked. Harry just nodded his head, not trusting his voice. James wrapped both of his arms around Harry and hugged him. This is when Harry broke. He wrapped both of his arms around his dad as well and tears began to fall down his cheeks. A crying Lily joined in the family hug not long after. Hermione smiled a bit, knowing that Harry had only ever dreamed of meeting his parents for real, let alone having a family moment.

Bellatrix couldn't even imagine what it would be like to loose her parents, but even if she did, she had her sisters and cousins to comfort her. Who did Potter have?

A lot of people were thinking along the same lines. Even Rodolphus looked over at his brother and saw how blessed he was to have him.

After some time, Dumbledore started reading again.

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

"Didn't know you cared that much professor." James commented with a trace of humor. McGonagall smiled, as did many others, they knew he wasn't going to let this get him down, he was a fighter.-

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.

James eyes widened as Lily started crying again. "Not Harry, oh Merlin not Harry," she whispered.

But he couldn't.

"What?" Sirius asked, at the same time Regulus muttered, "huh?" they looked at each other for a split second, then elsewhere.

He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

If it were possible, James's eyes widened even further. "My son defeated You-Know-Who," he whispered, than shouted. Then he turned to look at Harry. "How did you defeat him?" he asked franticly. Almost everyone leaned forward in anticipation, eager to hear how a baby defeated one of the world's greatest dark wizards.

"erm- I'm still not exactly sure, but it will probably be in one of the books," he answered.

"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We would all like to know that." Rodolphus whispered to himself, eyes still narrowed at the boy. He was starting to have a lot of doubts about Voldemort. If he could be defeated by a baby, then how powerful was he?

"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and

examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"What!" there were outrageous yells everywhere.

"Professor, you cant possibly take him there, they hate him…," a franticly Lily ranted on.

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"What a brat," Sirius commented, disgustedly, "I mean, even Reggie wasn't that bad." 'Reggie' blushed under the amused stares, while Walburga and Orion glared at Sirius.

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"

Harry mumbled something incoherently under his breath about his stupid fame.

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

James, Sirius, and Remus all brightened up instantly at the mention of Hagrid. They all turned to each other and grinned like maniacs.

"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," Harry and James pledged simultaneously. They looked at each other, shocked, but then both smiled and looked away.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"You think like Dumbledore," Sirius nudged James.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front

of them. "Awesome," breathed Sirius. James and Remus both rolled their eyes, they knew how much he loved motorcycles.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"Yes," Sirius shot out of his seat, doing a type of jig. Everyone stared at him rather amused.

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

People looked over at Harry, to see if they could catch a glimpse at his scar. He just flattened his hair out self-consciously.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Wish he could have," mumbled Harry. He hated his scar, hated having a constant reminder. Hermione just smiled knowingly down at him and whispered words of comfort.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.

"You really do sir?" a random Hufflepuff second year asked him. Dumbledore just chuckled and nodded his head before continuing on with the story.

Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"You know, I take offence to that," Sirius said louder then he intended to. He got a few questioning glances.

"Why?" Regulus asked.

Sirius, shocked that his brother was talking to him, stammered with his answer, "I-um-I er-." He looked to Remus and James for help.

"er- he just really likes dogs," Remus replied to Regulus's question. Regulus, knowing the answer wasn't the true answer, just excepted it for now, he would find out sometime.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor

McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"

"So, you're the boy who lived," James asked, trying to come up with conversation. Harry was about to answer when a bright white light filled the Great Hall.

AN: Sorry I haven't updated yet, loads of work.