Chapter 1

A golden-eyed tawny owl lighted on an ordinary mailbox post on an ordinary street in a particularly non-descript town. The moon was covered and the damp air hung on every slippery surface. The owl blinked once, twice, then spotting a brindled black cat also watching, rose and flew away to the North. It had been a terrible night. First word had spread that there had been a major breakout break out of dark witches and wizards from Azkaban Prison. Then the news that several trusted aurors and ministry employees had followed by staging attacks on senior officials in the ministry itself, then fleeing to join their friends. Then the saddest new of all, the attack on James and Lily Potter. It was said that the killing curse nearly destroyed the house, yet somehow their little boy, 1-year old Harry Potter had survived. Dark days were certainly ahead, no doubt about that. The Ministry was in chaos, and no-one could be certain who was a friend or a foe.

Minerva McGonagall crouched close to the building, waiting. Her cat transfiguration was perfect, down to her warm fur and acute hearing. She sensed a vibration and then heard a tiny pop. A tall dark man in black robes had appeared on the drive of the house where she crouched. He held a bundle wrapped in blankets. Almost immediately a grey-cloaked figure with a shining long beard and tiny reading glasses appeared next to him. "Severus, calm yourself," he said to the dark figure. "You'll wake him". The dark figure could not speak, tears coursing down his cheeks unheeded. He only shook his head and reached out with the small bundle, handing him gently over. The cat was now a tall slender witch of middle

years in flowing black robes, a pointed hat on her head, striding towards them. "How is he? Will he….live?" "Certainly, Minerva" the grey figure replied. "The worst is over, at least for tonight. But we must see him safe." "Please, please let it be me!" burst out the man in black. "I'll be glad to take him – I'll give my life to protect him!" "No, Harry's best protection is within those walls. Your remorse can't help him now, Severus. There will be a day you can help, but not today. Go now." The black figure hung his head, nodded mutely and stepped aside, then disappeared into the mist.

Albus Dumbledore, clad in grey, regarded by many as the wisest and most powerful wizard of their time looked down at the small child in his arms. "Such a burden on such a tiny thing!" he reflected silently. Minerva stepped closer and gently smoothed the sleeping child's hair, carefully avoiding the fresh lightning-bolt shaped scar, the permanent sign of the powerful curse he had survived. She had never had children herself, but this little fellow moved her very much as he slept quietly, tucked into Dumbledore's arms. She turned away quickly, surprised to feel a tickle behind her eyes. "Well, let's see what we've got." she said a bit too briskly as they both moved toward the door of the house. "Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "Press that button there to summon them." as he gestured with his head toward the right door lintel. The witch pressed the button and heard a distance chime. Nothing happened. "Again, once more" said Dumbledore. They heard a thumping as a heavy figure came down the stairs and the porch light came on. The door flung open "What in the blazes….?" as a puffy, blotched face glared angrily at them. "Who are You?" he said. "Who we are is not important. Let's say you have graciously invited us in and we get this child out of the night air." Minerva said, grasping the door and pressing it open as Dumbledore stepped past the astonished man into the hall.

"What is it, dear?" a voice floated down from upstairs. "Just a minute, Petunia" the bathrobe-clad man said, following Dumbledore into the parlor. Minerva wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale chips in the air and said "We're here about your nephew, Harry." "What nephew? What are you talking about?" he replied, beginning to bluster again. "Look, I don't know who you are but…" "What about my nephew?" a reedy dark-haired woman at the foot of the stairs interjected coldly. "You are Petunia Evans, I presume?" asked Dumbledore. "Yes, I was – this is my husband, Vernon Dudley". Dumbledore looked intensely at her, then said "I must tell you that your sister is dead. Her husband is dead. They were murdered tonight." She sank down on the sofa, taking it in. She looked up at him, "And that's their son." Dumbledore nodded. She shook her head numbly, then the corners of her mouth turned down "He's like them, isn't he? He's…magic?" Petunia asked. "Yes, he will be a powerful wizard one day." He replied. "And you want me to take him in, don't you?" she said. "Of course!" broke in Minerva. "He's your family!" Dumbledore shook his head, "Gently, Minerva. It only works if she extends her home to him willingly." He watched Petunia closely, as she silently struggled with her feelings. Vernon then came to life, sputtering "Petunia, you can't! We can't! No, I won't have it!" She stood, shaking her head, "No. I won't go through it again, and I won't do it to my son Dudley. I won't have him feel second-best, that someone else is special and he's not. Take him with you and go." Minerva spat " You stupid, stupid woman! Don't you know what this means?". Dumbledore calmed her, saying "Professor, enough. Let us go, and shake the odor of plastic furniture covers from our robes. There are other options." He turned to the couple and said "Thank you for your time; we will not bother you again." and he headed for the door. "You're not thinking of that old crackpot, Uncle Hermanus, are you? He must be over 90!" Petunia called as they left the house. "That old geezer – you couldn't possibly…" as the pair disappeared in to the thickening fog. She stood at the door peering out into the mist, shivering and wondering if she had done the right thing. She had never even looked at the boy's face.