A/N Alright! How many people have read 'De-Aged' by The Bibliomaniac? If you have, you might have noticed this idea in their A/Ns. The Bibliomaniac has given me permission to write the idea (thanks again, if you are reading this). I probably should be updating another story, but this idea is not going to leave my head anytime soon!

Also if you have not read 'De-Aged' I highly recommend it. It is probably one of my favourite, still updating, Doctor Who and Harry Potter x-over. Basically, it is a well-written (and interesting) the Doctor (10) and Jack Harkness go to Hogwarts. The plot has it's own twists, it's an old idea with new embelishments. The Bibliomaniac is an amazing writer and 'De-Aged' is amazing. I really advise checking it out! A/N

Chapter Summary: The Dursley's are going to receive some awful news, but thank goodness it has not happened yet! In which Vernon Dursley has an interesting day, we meet Hagrid, Headmaster Sparklespire and the lioness with a strong maternal instinct.

-Chapter One-
The Boy Who Lived- Starring Vernon Dursley

Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive were completely over the moon (in a rocket ship of course) to say that they were as normal as the average family could get, thank you, thank you, we're here all day!

It was true, Mrs Dursley stayed at home for the entire day, fussing over their son, Dudley, and taking the occasional break to peer over into Number Three's Garden. (Having adapted to such a lifestyle, her neck had lengthened, taking away mass from her body, leaving her thin and looking much like a horse). Sniffing disdainfully at the wilting sunflowers, Mrs Petunia Dursley sent her husband off to work with a kiss and a small wave.

Mr Dursley, however, did work. Having woken up that brilliant sunny morning, he had whistled a happy tune, looking forward to nothing more than going to work. (He too had adapted to his routine, the constant use of the car shrinking him slightly and squashing all his body mass into excess fat, his lack of exercise only cemented his body shape). Clad in a regular business suit with a vibrant red tie, Mr Vernon Dursley appeared official, and it was official he needed to appear. He was the director of a firm called 'Vectorscan' who checked the every official written measurement that passed into England from America; no one wanted a repeat of the Mars Climate Orbiter.

The son, Dudley Dursley, was absolutely perfect in his parents' opinion. Of course, he had not actually done much yet, but Vernon believed he would become an astronaut, and his mother assumed that he would be the perfect gentleman. Now, though, he spent much of his day in a high-chair or hastily crawling across the garden towards his mother. (He, much like his parents, had changed in accordance to his regime, becoming more and more like a beach-ball every day. It was easier to roll than crawl). Dudley knew that if he managed to impress his mother, which meant doing just about anything other than sitting, he would get ice-cream out of it. So Dudley crawls across the garden to his mother, Dudley gets ice-cream.

On this particular sunny day in Surrey, the 1st November if you really want to know, the Dursleys were going to receive some terrible news. Petunia was going to be in tears and Vernon close to them. However, with no knowledge of the future, both adults began their day with cheer and optimism.

So, Mr Dursley was driving to work, humming the theme to Star Wars. He was just pulling out of the road, when his eyes bulged out of head. He braked abruptly; staring wide eyed at the lioness perched in front of the Privet Drive sign. What in the name of the Force? And, oh my, it was reading a map. Of course, Vernon Dursley did not really notice the map; rather he hit the gas and shot past the lioness at a surely illegal speed. Only when the fearsome beast was behind him, did he slow down to an acceptable pace. Several deep, calming breaths later and Mr Dursley had pushed the terrifying sight from his mind.

Pulling into the parking lot, Vernon hooked the work pass around his neck and strolled towards the block of offices at the other end of the tarmacked lot. Grumbling about his aching legs, Mr Dursley sat straight in his chair and began to oversee his department.

Several shouting matches later (his right-hand had employed several people who could not do maths, and was attempting to blame it on 'Director Dursley'.) he sauntered to the mess hall with a satisfied smirk upon his face. Having eaten a very fine fish, chips and beans, Vernon decided to amble away from his office and across the road to procure himself a chocolate muffin.

Mr Dursley's mission was…interesting to say the least. He was unfortunate enough to pace past several people in, ah, cloaks. 'Nice Jedi costumes! Not quite as good as the children last night, though…' He mused as he waited to cross the road. Vernon would have joined the fashion statement, but he was important, and important people could not do whatever they wanted. Sniffing sadly, the director stopped in shock as he briefly heard what the cloaked-group was muttering.

"The Otters!"
"Have you heard?"
"Yes, that poor couple."
"But what about their son? What will happen to Hairy?"
"I hear-ssh! Muggle!"

Vernon immediately traversed the road, the crossing-man having finally turned green. He could feel stares boring into his back. So, disturbed by the words he had heard, Vernon hardly noticed where he was going, until he crashed into a man. Mr Dursley immediately stuck out his hand to hoist the fallen man to his feet. Apologising gruffly, Vernon hurried on and bought his muffin, leaving a strangely joyful man behind him.

Finally back from his eventful journey, Vernon scarfed down his chocolate muffin and steadfastly ignored the owls hammering on the windows. The bell rang, signalling the end of the working day and Mr Dursley bolted like a bored teenager. Pedal, once again, to the metal, he skyrocketed down the streets, past the Lioness and into his drive.

When Vernon stepped into the house, his worst fears were confirmed.

Petunia sat on the sofa, sobbing her eyes out as she clutched the letter. Dudley was uncharacteristically silent, staring at his sniffling mother with watery, blue eyes. Vernon took his wife's hand and gently removed the sheaf of paper. Scanning the sheet, he gently put it to one side before allowing his spouse to cry on his shoulder.

And that was how the Dursleys found out about the deaths of Minkly and James Otter.

The Boy Who Lived

It was long after all of Privet Drive had gone to bed that the lioness moved. At precisely midnight, a man popped into existence at the end of the road, eliciting a twitch from the large cat. With a flick of something that looked like a cigarette lighter, shining white balls from the street lamps sped into the lighter. The street was left in almost complete darkness.

Tapping his half-moon glasses with a long piece of wood, the man realised he did not need see-in-the-dark glasses as his absurd mixture of clothes glowed. His golden buckled boots twinkled, his long white beard and hair beamed, his star-covered blue trousers sparkled, his spotted pink-and-orange shirt gleamed, his green and purple coat blazed and his acid-yellow robes glared. This man, Albus Corbledore, was a living, breathing (albeit fictional) sparklespire. Surprisingly, he was not a parrot; rather his animagus took the form of a Pied Crow.

The lioness kept her eyes staring far away from the sparklespire, who was at least a hundred and fifty years old, even when he addressed her.

"Fancy seeing you here," The sun-man intoned cheerfully to the lioness. "Professor McGonagall."

The lioness changed, growing and twisting into a middle-aged woman with a tight bun of greying hair and an emerald cloak. Her square glasses were exactly the shape of the markings around the lioness' eyes, a distinctive trait that could be an asset or a hindrance. She was still steadfastly staring away from Corbledore as she replied in her Scottish accent.

"Oh, you knew I would be here, you old fool! You sent me the invitation!"

"Manthera! We were supposed to do a dramatic introduction that portrays my omniscience! Did you even read the script?"

McGonagall merely raised a plastic bag full of shredded paper and tossed it to the old man.

"Ah." Albus stated as he fumbled with the bag. His eyes turned towards the sky as he heard a gigantic rumble split through the night.

A bike crashed to the ground, braking tersely in front of Corbledore. The rider dismounted and was revealed to be a tall, beefy man with hands the size of dustpan-lids, one of which was cradling a small, wailing baby.

"Hello, Professor Corbledore, sir, Professor McGonagall. I hope I'm no' late."

"No, no," Corbledore replied with a sunny smile. "Not at all, Hagrid, you're just on time!"

The giant, Rubursus Hagrid beamed underneath his bushy black beard before passing the screaming child over to Dumbeldore. The infant immediately began to shriek louder, his little arms waving manically.

"Oh, give him here!" Manthera insisted as she snatched the young boy from the sparklespire's arms. The baby immediately quietened, staring into McGonagall's eyes and making little gurgling noises. The lioness animagus immediately began cooing over the child, her normally fierce frown fading into a gentle smile. "Can we keep him?" The woman asked with pleading eyes.

The two men exchanged a look, neither wanting to let the lady down. Which one was to tell her no? The responsibility naturally fell to Corbledore; Hagrid was too nice to do it.

"Um, no, Manthera." Albus claimed quickly, explaining himself at McGonagall's glare. "He has to go to the Dursley's for protection. You do understand that Moldy Warts isn't gone?"

The female professor's eyes filled with tears and she began shaking violently. Her grief was so ample that she did not even flinch at Moldy Warts' name. Hagrid did though; he jumped about a foot in the air, before scurrying backwards and away from the sobbing woman. Albus joined the giant, eyeing the female as if she were about to blow.

Several, tense, minutes later and the Dursley's saved them. The door of Number Four banged open and the form of Vernon Dursley stood silhouetted in the doorway. When he saw it was more cloaked people he stepped outside, only to step back in when he saw the weeping woman. Petunia bolted through the doorway once Vernon had moved, presumably automatically knowing the boy was her nephew.

Three explanations , two crying women, one quick promise to catch up over tea, and a baby later, the strange set were gone and the Dursleys back in the house with a new edition to their family.

And that was how the Dursleys adopted Hairy Otter.

Hairy Otter would spend the next few weeks being hugged by his cousin, sobbed over by his aunt, and praised by his Uncle. He would spend the next ten years as Harry Potter-Dursley, fully aware of his inheritance.

Far away, people toasted in small whispers 'To Hairy Otter! The Boy Who Lived!'

Ten years would pass before Hairy Otter was ever directly called that again.