Yes another girl Harry fan fiction but this one is different. At the Privet Drive Scene I take it from the book because it's simpler then that and I didn't want to change it. Oh, by the way I am not making any money of off this because I don't own Harry Potter. I do my best to write and find all mistakes but i cannot find them all even if i try looking through a dictionary.

Summary: When Harry Potter was hit with the killing curse that Halloween something different happened. A piece of him was split in two and with a magical explosion disappeared in the realms of time. In 1328 a baby is found in front of the Flame house in France. This baby is a little girl with long dark red hair and emerald green eyes. On her forehead, a lightning bolt scare.

Chapter 1

It was a dark Halloween night as the Potters all sat around there fire place. Little Harry Potter sat on his mother lap sleeping softly as both parents watched him, eyes filled with love. They had been in hiding for a year now and everything was going well. Suddenly Harry woke up crying making Lily jump.

"Ssshhh Harry its OK, mommy's here, Daddy's here to don't worry little one everything will be OK." She whispered rocking the boy and trying to stop his cries. Suddenly James jumped to his feat looking as pale as a ghost.

"Lily take Harry and get out of here." He told her looking at the door.

"James…" she whispered eyes eyed in hope that it would be him.

"His come Lily get Harry and go Peter betrayed us that little rat." James growled taking his wand and motioning her to go.

Hurriedly Lily ran up the stairs to Harry's bedroom were she let a tear fall from her face. She knew, she just knew that she wouldn't live tonight, and that she would see her son grow up. Taking a pendant from her neck she put it around her sons and tucked it into his shirt. Kissing his forehead she let a tear fall on his forehead. Then her door slammed open and she turned to see the Dark Lord Voldemort standing there an evil smile on his face.

"Well, Well, Well, Lily Potter." He said in his snake like voice eyes narrowed as he looked at the baby boy in her arms. "Hand the boy over and you might live." He hissed, but she pulled her son closer to her and glared at him.

"I'd rather die then give you my son!" she screamed. "I would never hand him over to you Voldemort!"

"Then die Lily Potter!" he hissed anger bowling in his eyes. Lifting his wand he whispered the two words that would put her life to an end. "Avada Kadavra!"

Desperately Lily covered her son with her own body taking the full blow of the killing curse. As her body fell to the ground Voldemort laughed darkly.

"Well Harry Potter you shall die as well! No child will ever defeat me!" he shouted pointing his wand at Harry Potter. "Avada Kadavra!" he hissed.

But before the green light that left his wand could make contact with Harry Potter a silver dome like shield surrounded him and the room exploded. Voldemort was sent flying into a wall body broken while Harry Potter floated in mid air surrounded by his silver bubble. Beside him was another baby that hadn't been there before, this one with dark red hair. Then in another flash of light the second baby disappeared and Harry Potter floated to the ground gently. The pendant his mother had placed around his neck falling out of his shirt showing that haft of it was missing and as he moved his head to one side the red lightning bolt scare showed itself.

Minutes past by and suddenly the roar of an engine was heard. A few minutes latter Sirius Black ran into the house and found his best friend dead on the ground.

"Oh James! Prongs!" he shouted falling to his knees. "No, no, no, no! It can't be you were supposed to be safe." He whispered tears falling from his eyes.

Suddenly the echoes of a baby's cry filled his ears making him look up in shock. Wiping the tears from his eyes he got to his feat and stumbled up the stairs. Running to his godson's room he found the most amassing sight. His little baby godson was alive, wiggling and crying. Suddenly his heart became heavier as he saw Lily's dead body not far from the crying baby boy. Carefully he walked over and gathered his Godson in his arms. Then he saw the broken pendant around his neck. Crying softly he tucked the pendant into the boy's shirt and put a spell on it so that nobody could take it away from him. After that he turned around to leave the room yet he didn't expect the sight in front of him. There against a wall was the unmistakable robs of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Anger bowled up in him and he marched out of the house only to be met with the sight of Rubeus Hagrid standing there.

"Sirius!" the haft giant shouted.

"Hello Hagrid." He whispered looking down at the gurgling boy in his arms.

"The Headmaster sent me here to gather youn' Harry as to brin' him to a Healer." The man said.

"Sure Hagrid." He whispered but before he gave him over to the man he took his own locket from around his neck and placed it around the baby boys own neck. He put the same spell as the other locket on it and then kissed his forehead.

"I'm so sorry little Prongslet, so sorry but now that James, Lily and me will always love you no matter what." He whispered handing the baby over to Hagrid. "Take my bike Hagrid it's faster." He said then disappeared.

…

At Privet Drive night had fallen and all the people were softly asleep. On a stone fence sat a cat. Now normally that wouldn't be so strand but you see this cat had been sitting there all day. Suddenly a soft pop was heard and an old man appeared. Now that in its own right was bizarre but if you looked at him closely enough you could tell that things just got even more bizarre for you see 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.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to have realised that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots were un-welcomed. He was rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize that he was being watched, 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. Chuckling softly he muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket, and as he pulled it out a smile formed on his face. The object in his hand seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up into eh air, and clicked it making the nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. Twelve more times he clicked the little contraption in his hand and all twelve times the lights went out.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He said turning to smile at the tabby cat on the brick wall but it had gone. Instead he was now 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 and 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." Professor McGonagall said, sending him stern look.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feast and parties on my way here." He said making the Professor 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 said motioning at the dark window of the Dusley's living room. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting starts… Well they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shoot stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense." She said shaking her head.

"You cannot blame them Minerva. "Dumbledore said gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." he said softly.

"I know that." Professor McGonagall said 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 rumours." She said sending a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore, 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?" she asked hope in her eyes.

"It certainly seems so." Dumbledore said, twinkling eyes diminishing as he said this. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?" he asked her.

"A what?" she asked irritated.

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." he said popping one in his mouth.

"No thank you," she said 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." Professor McGonagall flinched but Dumbledore who was un-sticking 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."

"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're too – well – noble to use them."

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

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

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. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

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

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. But – he couldn't. 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.

"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 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."

"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!"

"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?" 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!"

"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't 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."

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

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

"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.

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 as he spoke.

"Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir.""

"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.

"Is that where - ?" Whispered Professor McGonagall.

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

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

"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."

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

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's 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.

"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 shoulder's 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'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. 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 tuned 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 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!"