As he stood with Ginny, watching his sons off on the train, Harry was content. All was right in the world, his scar hadn't hurt in nineteen years and his loved ones were by his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake up boy!" Aunt Petunia screeched, banging on the cupboard door and shocking Harry awake. Harry sat up. "I'm up!" he called, rubbing his eyes and carefully filing that dream. It was so bright, so vivid. And yet.. . . some things seemed the stuff of nightmares!

'It's just a dream Harry!' He scolded himself, standing up and hurrying to start breakfast after shaking the dust from his shirt from Dudley decided to hop up and down on the stairs. He rolled his eyes once he was turned away from his protesting and angry cousin, not even connecting the wake up, nor the present whining to his dream. After all, this was all completely ordinary at Number Four Privet Drive.

It wasn't until the trip to the zoo, when he and Dudley was peeking in at this huge snake, when it connected, Harry swallowing hard and hoping it was just deja vu. That is, until the snake seemed to answer him, and his cousin shoved him to the ground. Then his eyes were wide as dinner plates, watching as Dudley fell behind the glass, the snake hissing out a 'Thanksssss' as he left.

Once he was home and back in his cupboard, he let himself freak out just a bit, just enough to wonder if maybe he should believe some dream. He decided to write it down, just in case.

It didn't really sink in until the next day as he was gathering the post. There is was: the letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He swallowed hard, trying to hide it to open later but Dudley soon cottoned on, ripping it from his hands and squealing like the pig Harry knew he was.

A thousand letters, just as many owls, and one harried uncle later and Harry was convinced he had better write it down, nicking a small journal and a pen, sitting in front of the fireplace on the eve of his birthday, waiting for Hagrid to burst down the door.

His frantic scribbling halted at the first thud, hurriedly shoving the journal and the pen into his huge shorts pocket right as the door burst in, bringing in what he knew was an excellent adventure.

Though he'll be damned if he lets it go EXACTLY like the dream. . . . ..