Hello everyone.

Sincé my series TMAF got deleted, I decided to make a HP-FB crossover with a different angle. I'm not sure about this so let me know if this could work...if I get 2 reviews I'll publish the next chapter.

H. E. B.

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

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.

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, the same was with her other sister, Mrs. Rosenblatt.

And this is the sister who'll start this story. Margaret Rosenblatt nee Evans was a nineteen-year-old woman. She had long brown hair, brown eyes and a kind smile. She also had a secret, but it was not like Petunia, in fact, she was very fond of her older sister, Lily, as well as her brother-in-law, James, and her nephew Harry.

That secret was huge, but it had left her with something very loved for her, or more specifically someone. The result of her secret relationship and marriage that had ended with the birth of her now one-year-old son, Duncan.

A grey Thursday, when Margaret woke, is when 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. She left Duncan with Laura Patel, a friend of hers and left to work. As a single mother, and a nineteen-year-old, she needed a job. Waiter in a local restaurant. She walked towards her job. It was on the corner of the street that she noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. She stopped, looked at the cat and saw it had strange marks round its eyes. She smiled and continued walking.

As she was almost there, she couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. They were whispering excitedly together.

She arrived in Leo's Restaurant feeling uneasy. She and the clients saw the owls swooping past in broad daylight, they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime, thought Margaret smirking.

At the end of her turn, she'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until she passed a group of them next to the baker's. She caught some of the words they were saying:

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry"

Margaret stopped dead. She turned to the group as if she wanted to say something to them, but she thought better of it. People would suspect.

She was still so worried that she walked straight into someone.

"Sorry," she said, as the fatty lady stumbled and almost fell.

It was a few seconds before Margaret realized that the woman was wearing a violet cloak. She didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, her face split into a wide smile and she said in a joyful voice, "Don't be sorry, my dear madam, 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!"

"You-Know-Who gone? What? How?" Margaret asked hurriedly, but the woman was already gone. She was left there, fuming.

As she spotted her house, the first thing she saw -and it improve her mood - was the tabby cat she'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on her garden wall. She was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. She smiled, petted the cat and walked inside the house.

"Duncan's already in bed, Maggie." Laura said when she spotted her. She was a tall, thin woman with short hair and glasses.

They chatted for a while, and when Laura left, Margaret sat to see 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."

Margaret sat frozen in her 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... She hurried to write a quick letter to Lily, just to see if she was allright. Then she went upstairs to bed. She peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there.

Margaret went to bed and fell in an uneasy sleep, thinking that her sister and her family would be allright, they had to be…

She was woken in the morning by the voice of his son.

"Mommy!" Duncan screamed inside the crib. "Mommy! Up! Up!"

Margaret moaned and opened her eyes. She smiled at her son.

"Hello Duncan." She said. Duncan didn't answered.

"Mommy! Up!" he said impatiently.

"Why?" she asked tiredly, it was six in the morning. But the answer of her baby made her wake quickly.

"Hawwy! Hawwy here!" Duncan screamed.

Margaret didn't know how Duncan knew that, or why she went downstairs, she had a feeling. She opened the door and looked down. A bundle of blankets was on the doorstep. Margaret gently picked it up. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead she could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. She also picked a letter that he had. The baby awoke at that moment. Green eyes looked at her, and she smiled at her nephew.

"Hello Harry."

First chapter...review please!

Ideas needed!