Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters or books. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.
Mariah Frazier, Katarina Wallace, Shelby Jacob and Kaitlyn Lujan are my characters.
"Wow! Where are we?" asked Mariah Frazier, a brown haired, honey brown eyed, artistic girl. "I'm not sure," said Katarina Wallace, A.K.A Kat, a red haired, hazel eyed, sporty girl. "Hey check out the creepy abandoned building. If it's this close to my house then it would be perfect for a Plaid Potato sketch," said Shelby Jacob, a brown haired, green eyed, artistic girl. "Let's go in," said Kaitlyn Lujan, a dark brown haired, chocolate brown eyed, surfer girl.
"What? Look at that sign. It says 'Danger! Keep away!'" said Kat. "What's life with out a little adventure?" asked Shelby. "Alright, fine. But if it starts to cave in or you fall through the floor I'm totally going to say I told you so!" said Kat.
"Kat, do you get the feeling that this place is some what familiar?" asked Mariah. "Now that you mention it, yeah I do. I wonder why though. I've never been here before." The house, well castle, did look familiar. It was rundown and abandoned but there was something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. The four walked up to the building and pushed open the door and was amazed at what they saw. "I got it!" yelled Mariah and Kat. "But how did we get here?" asked Shelby. "What are you three going on about?" asked Katy. "HOGWARTS!" they all said together.
Just then four boys came down the staircase, three were laughing. "Girls," said Kat. "Not only have we been transported to Hogwarts, but also we have went back in time!" "What?" asked Katy. "How do you know?" asked Mariah. "Look! James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, in their days at Hogwarts.
Up on the staircase James, Sirius and Peter were laughing. "That was great. Did you get the look on Evans' face?" asked Sirius. "Yes, it was great!" said James. "You know Prongs," said Remus, "if you want Lily to go out with you, you should probably start being nice. Not playing pranks on her, don't be a git, deflate your head a little. You know be the exact opposite of what she thinks you are." "Check it out!" said Sirius. "New chicks!"
"Really Padfoot?" the girls heard Remus say and they looked up. "Whoa! They're muggles," said Peter. "I thought muggles couldn't see Hogwarts," said James. "They're not supposed to," said Remus. "Go get Minnie," said Sirius.
"Uh-oh," the girls said together. "Mariah they are getting McGonagall," said Kat. "Sweet!" "No not sweet. How are we supposed to explain why we are here, without getting booted out?" "Oh yeah." "Guys! Wait!" "Why? You shouldn't be here. You aren't witches." "No but we can out-bitch Lily, James." Said Kat. "How do you know mine and Evans' names?" "Oh we know both of yours, Remus', Sirius', Peter's and many more. We know you were about to go get Minerva McGonagall A.K.A Minnie, you hate Severus Snape A.K.A Snivellous. And we know what is going to happen to you four, Lily, Alice and Frank Longbottom. And we know who wins the war. What else do you need to know?" "How do you know?" "We have our ways. Now we need to talk to Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall. We'll tell you all of the mentioned people what and how we know. You need to get Lily, Alice, Frank, Severus, yes Severus, and yourselves, plus Dumbledore and McGonagall. Sirius and Remus will take us to the Room of Requirement," said Mariah.
"JAMES HAROLD POTTER! You are soooo DEAD!" Lily Evans came down the stairs with green slime covering her. Alice was right behind her trying not to laugh. Mariah looked into the Great Hall, "Crap! McGonagall's coming, guys let's go." James pulled out a cloak and threw it over the girls, "be quiet and stay out of the way." "James Potter! Why can't I get this goop off me?" James pulled out his wand, waved it and the slime was gone. "Happy Lily Evans? All you had to do was ask." "Oh, thanks I guess."
"What is going on out here?" asked McGonagall, her lips were in a very thin line. "Oh it was nothing Professor. James just put a tickle spell on me earlier." Everyone looked at Lily, she used James' name and she got him out of trouble. That was unheard of. "Alright fine. But that is no reason to be yelling in the halls Ms. Evans." McGonagall turned around and walked back into the hall.
"James! How could you let her go back into the hall? We need her," Mariah said. "Oh be quiet. I have a plan. By the way what are your names?" "Oh I'm Mariah Frazier, this is Kaitlyn Lujan, Katy for short. That is Shelby Jacob. And that is Katarina Wallace, Kat or Kitty for short." "Don't call me Kitty. Only these 3 have permission to call me Kitty. And if you do, I will pleasantly make you regret it. See I don't need a wand to hurt someone." "How would you make us regret it?" asked Sirius. "Call me Kitty and find out. Here's a hint: I've made a couple of boys sing soprano for a while." All the boys cringed at that.
"Uhm, we know your names, but who are you exactly?" asked Lily. "Oh, we're muggles from the future and we know all about you and your world, and we know everything that will happen to you guys." Lily just stared at them open mouthed. "So James, what's your plan?" asked Shelby. "Oh Lily will get Snape because he would do anything for her, Remus will get Dumbledore and McGonagall because they are apt to believe him before Sirius or I, and Alice will get Frank. Sirius, Peter and I will take you four to the Room of Requirement. Once Lily, Alice and Remus get their people, they will take them to the Room of Requirement. "Why do I have to get Snape? I don't want to talk to him anymore," said Lily. "Lily, trust me, I think you will forgive him after we explain everything," said Kaitlyn. Mariah, Kat, and Shelby stared at Kaitlyn. "You read the books?" Mariah asked in undertone so only the girls could hear. "Don't be silly. I saw the movies, and learned a lot listening to you three." "Oh okay."
While those four were having their own conversation, the other six were talking as well. James was beaming. "Hey Evans, I was under the impression that you could only say my first name when you were yelling at me. Also you got me out of trouble. That's unheard of from a prefect, let alone Lily Evans." "Oh don't worry, it doesn't come without payback." James automatically paled at these words. When Lily got revenge she went full out.
Sirius had been staring at Mariah the whole time. Lily turned to see who he was staring at, "Oh that poor girl, she's going to be played by the main player himself. Honestly Sirius, do you really like anything that walks on two legs?" "Lily, Lily, Lily, don't be silly. Just anything with boo-" "Sirius don't you dare finish that sentence."
"Alright girls, let's go and you three go get your intended targets." Remus, Lily and Alice walked into the Great Hall, while the others headed up the Grand Staircase.
When they got to the Room of Requirement, they all went and stood around the fireplace. It was the middle of October, the 18 to be exact, but it was already chilly inside the castle.
"So you girls know everything about us. Can you prove it?" "Yes we can," said Katy. "You three are animaguses. James is a stag, Sirius is a dog, and Peter is a rat. You became animaguses because Remus is a werewolf. That leads to your nicknames, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. You created the Marauders Map, a map of Hogwarts that show where everyone is and what they are doing. You enchanted it so that it updates itself every year." "Okay so you do know everything."
Every one else entered. Snape looked mad (as usual), McGonagall looked exactly like she had earlier, and Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. "Why did you bring those girls here? How do you know that they are from the future?" asked McGonagall. "Well, they just listed a whole lot of stuff about us that no one else knows."
That second there was a sound that sounded like a gunshot and everyone jumped. They turned around and there stood a man that looked exactly like James, a tall red headed man, a bushy brown haired girl and a tall brown curly haired man. The marauders, Lily, Alice, Frank and the two professors pulled out their wands and pointed them at the new comers. "Whoa! You're quick on the draw there but put you're wands down," said the man that looked like James. "Not until we know that you're not Death Eaters," said Sirius. "They're not," said Mariah. "They're part of your futures," said Kat. The four new comers just stared at Kat. "How do you know that?" asked the red head. "Three of us have read the books that Hermione's holding, and all of us have seen the movies." "Wait, so everyone who has read the books and/or seen the movies, know about us and witches and wizards." "Yeah but everyone believes that it's fiction," said Shelby. "Even if we told anyone about you, which we won't, they would believe we were crazy and send us to the loony bin." "Shelby you are already halfway there, no offense or anything. But everyone in the world, almost, has read these books or seen these movies, but no one thinks it's true." "But this is how we will explain everything, but could we stay until you're done reading the books? Then we need your help to get back to our time and place."
"But first there are some introductions that need to be attended to here," said Dumbledore. "Oh, I'm Shelby Jacob." "Kaitlyn Lujan, call me Katy." "I'm Mariah Frazier." "Katarina Wallace, call me Kat. Sirius I swear if you call me Kitty, you will regret it." "I'm Ron Weasley." "Neville Longbottom." "Hermione Granger." "I'm Harry." "Do we need to introduce ourselves?" "No we already know who you are."
Lily walked over to see what the books were: "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire; Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince; and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Sounds like someone related to you Potter." "Ah Lily, I thought we were past using surnames." "We are, I'm just still mad at you from this morning's prank."
Harry looked back and forth between his parents. It will be a very nasty shock when they find out that they get married and have a kid after school, then die a year later.
Sirius had been watching Harry, and couldn't help but notice the similarities between James and Harry. There was one difference though and he couldn't quite place it. "Hey Harry, what's your last name?" "Uhm, it's Potter." He said whilst looking at his feet. "You're the kid from the book, and James' son, aren't you?" "Yeah," James just stared at Harry. His hair stood up in the same places, he was tall and skinny, he even wore the same glasses. That's when he noticed Harry's eyes; they were the same color and shape as Lily's. "If you're my son, who's your mother?" Harry looked at right at Lily, "You'll find out later who it is."
"Shall we read the books then?" asked James. "Yes!" Just then four couches showed up, and two chairs. "Alright this is how we will be seated," said Kat. "Lily, James, Harry and Remus on one couch, Sirius and Peter in the two chairs, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and Hermione on one of the couches, Alice, Frank, Neville, and Ron and one couch, and the four of us on the last couch. There is a reason for sitting this way, you'll understand later. Who wants to start reading?" "I will," said Hermione.
The Boy Who Lived
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. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.
"Sounds like he needs to lose some weight!" said Sirius
Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.
"Sounds like my sister," said Lily.
The Dursley's had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. 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 Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
"A child like what?" asked James. "If it's my son, then where's the problem?"
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on a dull, gray Tuesday, 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. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye, but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar—a cat reading a map.
"It's an Animagus, stupid," said Peter.
For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen—then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have he been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive—no looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
"Wow, this is a boring family," said Remus. "You have no idea," said Harry.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes—the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.
Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak!
The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt—these people were obviously collecting for something…yes that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
"What's the matter with cloaks?" asked Frank.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
"Yes sounds like a very good morning." Said Alice, sarcasm dripping off every word.
He was in a very good until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.
This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"
"—yes, their son, Harry-"
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office,
"That must have been a funny sight," said James.
snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid.
Potter wasn't such an unusual name.
He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.
"That's horrible, I would never name my son Harvey or Harold," yelled James.
There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her—if he'd had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o' clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, 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!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle.
"That must have really freaked him out," said Lily, while everyone else was laughing.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood—was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Hey Minnie it's you," said James. "Bet you it's not," said Sirius. "You're on. 10 galleons."
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
"Yeah cause that would help," said Remus, rolling his eyes.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.
"Yes Dursley, that is normal cat behavior," said McGonagall.
Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door Neighbor's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (Won't).
"Brat," said James and Lily. Everyone burst out laughing at this.
Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on 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."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper of the Potters…
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er—Petunia,
"That's my sister!" said Lily. No one, except McGonagall and Dumbledore, put 2 and 2 together to get that, that meant Lily married James but Lily looked at Harry with realization, she pointed at Harry and then herself. Harry nodded. No one saw their little exchange. Lily just looked at James, she couldn't believe it, she would marry James, and have a kid with him.
Dear—you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" As he expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.
"Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you know…her crowd."
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare.
"Coward," said James.
Instead he said as casually as he could, "Their son—he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," Mrs. Dursley said stiffly.
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?
"Harry. Nasty common name if you ask me."
"It is not!" yelled Lily and James.
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of—well, he didn't think he could bear it.
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind…He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on—he yawned and turned over—it couldn't affect them…
How very wrong he was.
"Why doesn't that sound good?" asked Sirius.
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
"Yep that's McGonagall," said James.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
"That is a very good description," said Dumbledore. "Who wrote this?" "J.K Rowling," said Harry. "I wonder if I've met her."
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"Sweet! I want one," said James. "Yeah right, no one in their right mind would give you something like that. You wreak havoc enough with the lights on. With the lights off who knows what you four would do."
He clicked it again—the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
"I told you so! Pay up Sirius!" said James.
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on brick wall all day." said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
"How can you do that when you apparate?" asked Lily. "It's Dumbledore," said James.
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no—even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent—I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"Voldemort is gone?" asked Lily. Everyone from the past cheered, everyone from the future looked at each other, they were in for a nasty surprise.
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense—for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't." said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admirable. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know-oh, all right, Voldemort was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you won't use them," said Lily.
"Only because you're too—well—noble to use them."
"Ha-ha, you and McGonagall think alike Lily," said James.
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Everyone burst out laughing.
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing compared to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?
It seemed that McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went looking for the Potters.
The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are—are—that they're—dead."
"WHAT? I'm dead? Lily and I are dead? I finally manage to catch her heart and I die?" James was so shocked that he couldn't even gloat about the fact that he married Lily. Harry wrapped his arms around Lily who was sobbing. James got up and walked around to the other side of Lily and he wrapped both of his arms and the small family just sat there for a little while. Sirius couldn't even say anything. He set a record for himself, he was quiet for 5 whole minutes before he even said anything. "How… But if Lily and James... Wouldn't he have gotten rid of Harry too?"
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…"
"I guess you did like me then, huh Minnie?" asked James.
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know…I know…" he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke—and that's why he's gone."
"He couldn't kill you? But how? I mean how old were you?" asked Lily. "I was one when this happened." "Then how did this happen?" "That all gets explained later on," said Harry.
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's—it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
"But you always know Albus," said McGonagall. "Has the world gone mad?"
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"You had Hagrid bring him? Can you trust Hagrid with a baby?" asked McGonagall. "I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore, James and Lily nodded.
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."
"Where am I? Where is Remus?" asked Sirius. "Sirius you were- shall we say- tied up and I don't meet Remus until "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban." Said Harry, trying to give Sirius a hint as to where he is, but Remus caught on.
"You don't mean—you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore—you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son—I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"You think that a letter is going to explain everything, this is my sister we are talking about," said Lily. "You might as well leave him in the dark. She hates magic, she won't tell him shit!" Everyone looked at Lily, she never cussed.
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous—a legend—I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future—there will be books written about Harry—every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very serious over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes—yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it—wise—to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to—what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky—and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild—long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"Sweet, I have a flying motorcycle!" said Sirius.
"No problems, were there?"
"No sir—house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.
Leave it to Dumbledore to lighten the mood.
"Well—give him here, Hagrid—we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I—could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Ahh, Hagrid likes you Harry," said James.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it—Lily an' James dead—an' poor Harry off ter live with Muggles-"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.
"YOU LEFT HIM ON A DOORSTEP?" Lily looked murderous, she stood up advancing at Dumbledore, but Harry and James grabbed her and pulled her back to the couch. "Mum! It's fine, anyway it wasn't him, it was the future Dumbledore."
For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night Professor McGonagall—Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer.
He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out the tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him as he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter—the boy who lived!"
"That's the end of the chapter. Who wants to read next?" asked Hermione. "I will," said McGonagall.