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Prologue

'Good luck, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore 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 anything astonishing to happen.

Harry rolled over in his blankets without waking up, one small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on. Unaware of the tragedy that had struck, unaware of the people he had saved, and unaware of the life he was going to live.

Saturday morning, streams of warm light shot through the kitchen blinds, where a disheveled Mr Vernon Dursley sat at the breakfast table, contemplating the worrying events of the day before. Surely it was all a coincidence? Harry was a common name, and he could name five different Potter's, that he had met while doing business, off the top of his head alone. Besides, he would make sure that his family would not be drawn into any of their freakishness.

Yes, he would make sure that they left him and his family well enough alone. No matter the cost. Nothing 'freaky' would ever happen under his roof. Mr Dursley made a decidedly final grunt, and spied the empty milk bottles sitting on the kitchen counter. It was usually Petunia's job, but under the circumstances he needed something normal to do, in order to set his mind at ease.

With that thought, he rose slowly from his place at the breakfast table, and collected the empty milk bottles. Feeling much better about himself he made his way to the front door, he plucked his keys from the table beside the door and happily opened the lock.

It wasn't the loud crash of broken glass that woke Petunia Dursley that frightful morning, or the whimpering of a small child, it was her husbands bellowing up the stairs that finally did it. Mrs Dursley quickly grabbed her dressing gown and rushed out of her bedroom, not bothering to check on Dudley who would most likely still be asleep. The little tyke was such a sound sleeper.

She pelted down the stairs, making a beeline for her husband who was arguing with himself in the living room.

'Vernon what is it?' she snapped, her beady eyes flicking to the living room window; as if checking the coast was clear.

Mr Dursley was a very bright shade of puce, his mustache twitching dangerously, he rose a finger shakily and pointed to a bundle of blankets he'd dropped on the sofa.

'What?' Petunia asked again.

'Take this' he grunted, thrusting a letter into her hands.

Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley

I regret to inform you that Lily and James Potter were Killed last night by the dark wizard known as Voldemort. He attacked them in their home in Godrick Hollow, with only one survivor. Here, with you, is their son Harry James Potter. I ask that you take the young boy in, as you are his only living relative, doing this kind service will also give you and your family protection from any dark wizard that would harm you, your family or the boy. Protect him. I am terribly sorry for your loss.

Yours Sincerely

Albus Dumbledore.

Petunia stood in shock, glaring down at the letter. It couldn't be true. Lily couldn't be dead. But with a sneaky glance at the tuft of jet black hair sticking out of the blankets, Petunia knew it to be true.

'Get that freak out of here' Petunia hist, pointing at the child whimpering on their sofa. 'I don't want it in my house'.

'Of course, we'll take it to an orphanage. What does that Dumble man think he's playing at! Dropping that freak child off on us. I won't stand for it.' Vernon ranted pacing his living room floor.

Petunia cast one last evil glare at her nephew and tore the letter in her hands to shreds. The Potter's were dead, including that brat of a child. She would have nothing to do with it. Lily had made her choice a long time back, this would be her punishment.

All Petunia could think as the Dursley family drove back from the first orphanage they could find was, 'Good riddance'.