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October 31st, 2002

There was nothing of particular notice about the neighbourhood that lay before her. The houses didn't stand out and the lawns are perfectly symmetric to the point of irritation. Where was the individuality she wondered? "These muggles are unbelievable," she muttered to herself. As she stood in the front lawn of number 4 Privet Drive, Professor Minerva McGonagall wondered what could possibly be keeping Albus when suddenly she felt a presence nearby as well as a loud rumbling in the distances.

"Good evening Minerva, though I wish I had more reason to mean it" said Albus, as he walked towards her. "Is it true?" She asked. They say that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is no more and that Lily and James are gone?" Albus looked grim as he responded, "I'm afraid it's true, all that remains is young Harry. In fact, here he is now." The rumbling she heard previously became louder as a large motorcycle came down the road, coming to a stop in front of them. "Evening professors" said Hagrid, moving towards them with a small bundle in his arms. "He hasn't made a peep since we started moving" he mumbled with clear tears in his eyes. Minerva and Albus looked at him and noticed a lightning bolt scar over his right eye. "Albus, is that…?" "Yes Minerva, that is most likely where he was struck by the curse. I would hazard a guess that he will carry that scar with him for the rest of his life and unfortunately, it will forever make him visible to the public. It's only been hours and people already give him a title that will weigh down upon him – The Boy Who Lived." It was at this point that the reality of the situation struck Minerva – this child was now an orphan and suddenly the reason for the four of them to meet in a muggle neighbourhood made much more sense.

"Albus! You can't mean to leave him with these strangers in the middle of the night!" she screamed. Albus moved towards Hagrid and picked up the child while speaking "These are not strangers to him, they're the only blood relatives he has left. This is the home of Lily's sister, Petunia and her family. At this point, Harry will only be safe in the home of those who share his blood so as much as I would love to see him grow up in our world, his safety is paramount. Additionally, here he can grow up without the expectations that our people would place on him. He can have a normal childhood without knowing the horrible circumstances that happened tonight." Minerva looked doubtful, but trusted that Albus knew what he was talking about. With a last look at the child, she and Hagrid said goodbye to Albus and Harry and returned to Hogwarts, knowing they would see the boy again in 10 short years.

"Well Harry, it seems like it's time for us to part ways" said Albus, as he conjured a makeshift crib and placed the young boy inside. Tucking a letter in the basket, he rubbed Harry's head. "Be safe, Harry" he whispered as he disapparated, leaving the boy to sleep peacefully until morning.

As she did every morning, Petunia awoke before her husband and began preparations for breakfast. She knew he would expect his cup of tea as well as a full meal before heading off to work. Whilst in the midst of cooking she heard something that sounds much like a baby crying, making her wonder if Dudley had woken up early. However, the sound seemed to be coming from outside and upon opening the door, she found Harry in his basket. Immediately she brought him inside, terrified that the neighbours might see something. She caught a glimpse of the letter beside him and while giving him a bottle of formula she had left in the fridge, she began to read it.

Vernon Dursley considered himself a simple man. He woke up in the morning with the intent to go to work and as a result, his darling wife Petunia should do everything in her power to make his life easy. When he made his way down the stairs, he saw his cup of tea already poured but it seemed like breakfast had been stopped midway through cooking. "Pet, where are you?" he called, moving into the living room. "Who's the kid?" he questioned, before looking at her, but noticed the color had drained from her face. "Pet, what's wrong?" he said and suddenly she seemed to tremble with rage. "He's HER child. My freak of a sister and her freak husband went and got themselves blown up and now we're expected to raise her freak child?!" Vernon stood there confused until he remember what Petunia had told him about her sister, that she was a witch and that all the mumbo jumbo hocus pocus stuff he had heard of as a child was real. How any normal, decent person could believe in that stuff was ridiculous in his opinion. "Can't we just dump him in an orphanage? Or leave him with his own kind?" said Vernon. "Seems like a much better idea than raising him ourselves" he said but Petunia shook her head "No, this letter says that we have to take care of him or some of *their* people will come after us". He didn't like the idea of some fairy tale believing crackpot telling him what to do, but from the stories Petunia had told him, he didn't think there was anything he could do to stop them. "Well, he's just a baby, maybe we can keep him from becoming a freak like her", said Vernon hoping to improve her mood but she didn't seem to agree. "No Vernon, he's going to be just as freakish as she was, turning teacups into toads and all sorts of unnatural things. I won't have it! Not in my home!" she screamed. "Right you are Pet, there'll be no freakish behavior in my home, but right now I don't think he can do much so lets just see how things go for now?" he said as he hugged her. "Alright dear, that makes sense, thank you. Now you sit tight and let me get your breakfast for you" she said with a smile.

Six years later…..

"BOY!" Petunia screamed, as she opened the door to his "room" the small cupboard under the stairs. He was startled as he had been in there for hours and had started to fall asleep. As she yanked him out into the hallway, she noticed how shaggy his hair had become, as well as his green eyes usually covered by his glasses much to her pleasure. The less she had to see her sisters' eyes staring at her, the better. "Now, go explain to your Uncle what you did" she said, making no attempt to hide her excitement.

As he walked down the hallway, Harry wondered to himself, what he could have possibly done to anger his aunt and uncle. He knew from a young age that they were not his parents since his last name wasn't the same as theirs. While he was smart for a child his age, he could not understand why his family treated him with such cold indifference. What had he done to deserve this, he wondered as he walked towards his uncle. He found his uncle sitting in this usual spot, watching T.V. and stood quietly, knowing only to speak when spoken too. "So boy, do you know why you're here?" His uncle said, in an almost calm sort of voice. "No Uncle Vernon, I don't." He replied, hoping against hope that his uncle wouldn't unleash his temper. "Tell me boy, what happened at school today? Did the teacher give you anything different, hmm?" Suddenly, Harry knew exactly what was going on. The only thing that had happened at school that was different was that both he and Dudley had received their report cards, but due to Dudley's complete lack of care towards his studies, Harry had done much better than him. "We received our report cards today Uncle Vernon. I got 4 As and 4 Bs." he said, smiling at his accomplishment. Vernon looked at him and slowly stood up. "So you feel proud of yourself? You shouldn't. Do you know why Boy? Because you're a little cheat, that's what you are! How dare you come here and act high and mighty knowing you beat my son because of your freakishness!" he screamed, spraying spittle all over Harry's face. Within moments of his uncle's tirade, Harry's face fell and he realized the futility of trying to impress his relatives. "You know you're nothing more than a freak who just tried to make Dudley look bad, right? Right?" "Yes, Uncle Vernon" he responded knowing that nothing he said could make a difference. "Well, I think you deserve some punishment for trying to embarrass your cousin, wouldn't you agree? Hmm, for now I think you'll just stay in your cupboard until I feel like letting you out!" he exclaimed as he grabbed his nephews' hair and dragged him down the hall and threw him into the cupboard.

Inside, Harry wanted to cry, to scream at the world about how unfair it was that he had to endure this. None of the other kids at school came in wearing clothes that we three sizes larger than them. None of the other kids were expected to make breakfast for their families and denied a taste of their product. Though he would like nothing better than to leave his so-called family and never return, he knew it would only end badly for him. While sitting in the dark of his cupboard, he realized, the only way he would ever survive would be to learn as much as he could but always make sure he performed slightly lower than Dudley on every exam, then when they reached high school, Dudley would most likely go to Vernon's alma matar while he would go to public school. While there, he could do as well as he wanted without worry of being compared to Dudley, and if he did well enough, he could go on to university and finally leave the Dursleys. However, fate had a different plan in mind for young Harry that would begin on his eleventh birthday.

The end of First Year at Hogwarts….

Since Hermione's choice for the potion to move through the fire was what he also picked, Harry felt confident that he would pass through the flames unscathed. He knew that whatever obstacle stood between him and the stone, he would have to face it alone. While Ron and Hermione had been helpful over the course of the adventure, Harry was relatively confident he could have completed most of the tasks by himself, using roundabout methods such as flying over the chessboard as opposed to playing his way through. However, when entering, what appeared to be a large chamber, Harry saw two things that shocked him. First was the Mirror of Erised, which he had spent nights staring into, letting it show him the only thing he truly desired – the presence of his family. He now knew them to be dead and gone but knowledge did not remove the yearning in the heart of an eleven year old to have his mother and father back. The second this that he saw was a person and with their presence immediately berated himself for not seeing it earlier.

Professor Quirrell looked at Harry, "Surprised to see me? Where you expecting Severus perhaps? I know he seems the type but alas it's just me in here. And my master" He said, mumbling the last bit. "Now be a good boy Potter and stay still while I figure out how to get the stone" spoke Quirrell as he silently cast a spell to tie ropes around Harry, preventing him from reaching his wand.

He paced around in front of the mirror, "I don't understand, I see myself presenting the stone to you master, but how do I get it?" he mumbled, when suddenly a raspy voice mumbled out "The boy. Use the boy to find it". Quirrell beckoned Harry towards the mirror and asked "What do you see boy?" As Harry looked at the mirror, expecting to see his family, he instead saw himself placing a smooth red stone in his pocket. While confusing he suddenly felt a bulge in his pocket and realized that the stone must have actually moved into his pocket. "Well, what do you see?!" shouted Quirrell, causing Harry to immediately lie. "I see myself sitting with my parents in the great hall," he said trying not to make eye contact with Quirrell. Again, the voice rasped out "He lies. Let me speak with him." "Master, you're not strong enough," said Quirrell, to which the voice replied, "I have strength enough for this." Quirrel turned around and slowly began unraveling his turban until finally, Harry saw what should have been the back of his head. Instead, of smooth skin or hair however, there was a face jutting out of Quirrell's head. Its eyes were red and where it's nose should be, mere slits into Quirrell's head – The face of Lord Voldemort.

"Do you see what I have become Harry? Stripped of my body and forced to seek refuge in the body of my follower like a lowly parasite, but we can change that. The Philosopher's stone is much more than you know. Yes undoubtedly you've heard that it can turn lead into gold and make a person immortal but that is only the beginning of its power. In ancient times, the stone was power in its purest form. The ability to create without cost was the true reward of possessing the stone. Transmuting the elements was Childs play to someone with its power. It was said that to one who had both the stone and the means to activate it, not even death could cross them. It could not only grant immortality but could raise the dead! Help me Harry and I can give you back your parents." Harry trembled at his words but screamed out "I'll never help you! You're an evil dark wizard and you killed my parents!" Voldemort smiled and looked at Harry "Come now child, good and evil, dark and light. Merely ideas and illusions we create to make ourselves feel better. There is no such thing as light magic or dark magic, there is only magic. Magic is nothing more than power and power belongs to those who take it! I offer you a chance to aid me, using the stone in your pocket!" Harry immediately flinched and started to backpedal out of the room when Voldemort screamed at Quirrell to grab him.

Harry tried to run backwards but stumbled and felt back against the stairs with Quirrell landing on top of him, when something curious happened. With Quirelll looming over Harry, his first instinct was to grab his hands to create some space when suddenly Quirrell's skin started to burn. "Master what magic is this?!" he screamed as his hands blistered. While Quirrell screamed, Harry realized there may yet be a way to get out of this, ran forward and wrapped his hands around Quirrell's throat trying to choke him into unconsciousness. However, he underestimated the potency of his magic and began burning right through Quirrell's neck but before it was done, the tips of his right hand brushed those of his left hand. Suddenly, a bright light erupted from below them and Harry knew no more.