Note: Okay, so here's the thingy. I originally came into this story thinking it would be, well, somewhat different. And since I haven't really been writing what I've been envisioning, I've decided to revise it, throw some chapters together, and hope for the best. I'm really sorry its taken so long to get everything together, but I've been in a rut. I'll let you know when its over with. Thanks for reading!

Saving Grace – Chapter One – "Discoveries and Questions"

The scorching August sun was setting on the horizon and the town of Surrey breathed a sigh of relief. Yet another record heat wave was taking its toll on the whole of England, and one young man was positively sure that if hell existed, he was in it. As the only person outside in the heat, Harry Potter was sure that he was being punished for something he must have done in a past life, as he was busily cleaning out his aunt and uncle's garage, and cursing karma for catching up to him. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he threw yet another box of his cousin's old toys into the garbage receptacle.

He could hear the television on in the Dursley's living room, over the air-conditioner that was turned on full power. Sighing, Harry continued to dig deeper into the abyss that was the Dursley's car port.

For the love of Merlin, can't these people throw anything away? He asked himself as he threw a box with broken remote control cars away.

For the most part, Harry was a normal teenage boy, going into his seventh year at school, preparing to enter the "real" world. But then there was the small part about being a wizard, and a good one at that, that made him slightly abnormal, by muggle standards at any rate. At the age of one, he was able to defeat the darkest wizard in history, Lord Voldemort. However, this came to pass at the expense of his parents' lives. Since then, he had been raised by his wretched relatives, the Dursely's. They gave him shelter (in a cupboard beneath the stairs and a small closet-sized room), fed him (whatever Dudley didn't eat, which wasn't much since Dudley was a giant cow), and clothed him (with the clothes Dudley had grown out of). Obviously, Harry had grown use to living off of necessities instead of desire. His cousin, unfortunately, had grown extremely accustom to the exact opposite of that. Dudley, however, had almost every indulgence his over-worked heart and simple mind could come up with.

Then at the age of eleven, Harry received his official Hogwarts letter, informing him that he was a wizard and magic indeed existed, which his relatives had told him time and again that it did not. For the next six years, he fought against evil forces, and the newly resurrected Voldemort himself, in order to keep those he loved safe. Unfortunately, he failed in his fifth year, when his godfather, Sirius, was killed at the hands of Voldemort's right-hand woman. Shortly after, he learned of a prophecy that proclaimed that he alone would be able to kill the dark wizard, or be killed in the process. So far, Harry hadn't succeeded, but like I said, he was an average run-of-the-mill teenage savior-of-the- wizarding-world; the boy who lived.

Harry had come to the last stack of boxes in the garage, relieved that his uncle would now be able to park inside the garage, when a name on one of the boxes caught his attention. A small cardboard box with "Lily" hastily written across it was in a corner of the garage, collecting dust and fading out of memory.

Intrigued, Harry picked it up, studied the box and walked over to his uncle's work bench. Once there, he slowly opened it. What are they keeping from me now? Harry thought to himself, the familiar anger and frustration building in the pit of his stomach.

As he opened it, dust fell from the cardboard. It seemed like it had been at least sixteen years since any attention had been paid to it. Inside, he found a dusty moth-eaten blanket. It was blue, and was trimmed in satin with the initials "HP" on a corner of it. He fingered it gently, and realized that it must have been the blanket Professor Dumbledore, his school's Headmaster, delivered him to the Dursley's doorstep in. Harry dug deeper into the box, and found a small envelope with the Dursley's address on it. Curious, he opened it, and found a baby shower invitation.

It read: "We invite you to share in our joy and celebrate a new life at the home of James and Lily Potter..."

"A baby shower?" Harry mumbled to himself, confusion evident on his face, "What?" Checking the date, he saw that it was from 1981. "That's impossible," he continued, baffled, "I was born in 1980. What the hell is going on he-."

"Boy!" shouted his porcine-like Uncle Vernon, interrupting his examinations. "Shut the car port and come inside and make supper!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon! I'll be right there!" Harry shouted back. He hadn't really meant to comply, but that response was simply programmed into his head. After sixteen years of servitude, compliance came naturally, albeit unenthusiastically.

Sighing, Harry put the blanket and invitation back inside the box and carried it outside of the garage, shut the door, and went inside. He ran to his room as quickly as possible and put the box inside his closet to prevent Dudley, his whale of a cousin, from snooping around. Looking back at his closet once, Harry exited his room and descended the stairs to help prepare supper for his insufferable muggle relatives.

Harry was good at cooking. He also enjoyed it. He prided himself on whipping up anything at a moments notice. However, he had to act like the preparation the Dursely's meals was an unwelcome chore, otherwise Vernon or Petunia would take that away from him. God forbid Harry had anything that made him happy in that house. While he was busy setting the table and frying the ham on the grill, he thought about the invitation. It plagued his mind. Why would his parents have a baby shower after he was born?

Harry was acutely aware of serving dinner, and then cleaning up after the Dursley's finished without so much as a "thank-you" (although that was to be expected). Harry walked up to his room, careful not to walk too loudly and disturb one of his relatives. He entered his room, sat on his floor, and pulled the box out of the closet. Once again, he was mesmerized by the old blanket. He looked at the invitation, baffled.

"I don't understand..." Harry murmured. "I should ask Remus. That's what I'll do," Harry said, speaking to Hedwig who was perched in her cage, "I'll ask Remus about it when I see him tomorrow."

Content with that small resolution, Harry folded the blanket and tucked it away in his Hogwarts trunk. At least it would be safe in there from moths and other bugs. Finally, Harry reluctantly pulled out his potions book and started working on his holiday homework.

Harry was dreaming. He knew it. He was sitting on a park bench in a town he had never seen before, watching children play on the swings, running around, simply being children. His heart constricted, knowing that he had never known a childhood like that. He hadn't been allowed to play at the park on Privet Drive. Dudley made sure of that, along with his miniature gang of pre-teen hoodlums.

Harry sat under the bright sun, but did not feel warm. Laughing couples walked by him. An old man walking a dog jogged by. It was an odd dream. Not one horrible thing was happening.

Harry felt a presence by his side and looked to his right. There on the bench beside him sat Hermione, smiling at the little ones playing in the sand. She turned her head and smiled at Harry. Then she stood and walked down the path. He could hear her humming softly.

Harry attempted to stand and follow her, but he felt himself being bound to the bench. Alarmed at his inability to stand, he drew his wand and tried to think of any charms that would help. A shadow fell over him and Harry looked up.

"Hi." The figure said. The sun was behind her and Harry could only see the outline of her body. It was quite obviously a girl. He shaded his eyes with his hands and let his vision adjust.

The girl was smiling. She had auburn hair and had tied it in a tidy braid behind her.

"Who are you?" She asked Harry. Her accent told Harry that she was not from England. It sounded more like American English. Very much like American English.

"Harry." He answered, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh. Are you new around here?" She asked, still smiling.

"I don't know." Harry said, a grin creeping on his face. Her smile was infectious. "I don't even know how I got here." He admitted.

"Oh. That could be a problem." The girl sat on the bench beside him. "What's with the stick?" She asked, looking at his wand.

Harry remembered he was stuck to the seat and tried to get up again. It finally worked, and he stood up straight. He put his wand away, and willed himself to wake up. This red-headed girl made him slightly uncomfortable. She was very forward.

"You're leaving?" She asked, looking disappointed. Harry nodded. Her eyes seemed sad at the prospect. But she started smiling again, and said, "Its okay, I guess. Everyone leaves... eventually. Bye!" The girl got up and ran down the path, singing softly. Harry was left standing by the bench, staring after her, feeling confused.

Then he woke. He looked over to the glow in the dark clock that barely worked. Dudley had thrown it at the wall when it had gone off too early one morning, and the Dursley's had generously given it to Harry. The clock read 5:52 in the morning.

It was August fifteenth and Harry had a little over two weeks before he would return to the castle he referred to as his home – Hogwarts. The summer seemed to be stretching out, and the days were dragging.

"Potter, you are quite possibly the only person in England that wants to return to school." Harry thought to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Wait... scratch that. Hermione wants to go back to school even more." Harry smiled at the thought of Hermione. She probably had her homework already done, along with reading all of the books required for passing the NEWT's.

Harry swung his feet over the side of his bed and looked at his desk, his potions book opened to the summer reading he was attempting to get done with. Harry had only half of a foot of parchment left to fill up on the uses of gillyweed, and he was pleased so far that he knew most of the uses already; using it to grow gills and fins for better swimming being one of them.

For the most part, Harry was done with his holiday work. What else was he suppose to do? He was virtually a prisoner in Privet Drive. He couldn't attempt to go outside of Privet Drive without being flanked by an entourage of aurors. The risk was too great. Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, had spoken of an infiltration of Deatheaters in the Surrey area, and the danger was so surmountable that even Harry acknowledged that he had to be accompanied by aurors at all times.

Sighing, Harry sat down at his desk again and went back to work on his holiday homework.

The sun was coming over the horizon when Harry rolled up his essay, satisfied with its quality and length. He looked out his window in time to see an owl approach his window, bearing a letter from Hogwarts.

"Class necessities." Harry thought, slightly bored at the thought of picking his ingredients out for NEWT potions.

The owl landed on the perch inside Harry's room that Harry had built for Hedwig and other owls. Uncle Vernon didn't know about it, otherwise he would have burned it long ago. The owl extended its leg for Harry to remove the letter. Afterward, it hopped to Hedwig's cage where the snow owl allowed the school owl some water and a few bits of food.

Harry opened the letter and pulled his class list from the envelope.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed is a list with the necessary components of your classes. As you indeed, have special circumstances that hinder your ability to buy the mentioned items, Professor Dumbledore has allowed Mr. Remus Lupin to purchase them for you.

"Also, at this time, I would like to congratulate you on being selected for the position of Headboy. Inside you will find your badge along with list of responsibilities that you no doubt are capable of. Please meet with your counterpart, Hermione Granger, in the lead compartment of the Hogwarts Express no later than 10:45 am on September 1st. Again, congratulations on your achievement.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"

Harry was slightly more than stunned when he finished reading the letter. He was Headboy. How could that be possible, since he was not even named a prefect? Hermione being Headgirl was hardly a surprise. Everyone had always known she would get the position in a heartbeat, but Harry? He was constantly getting into trouble and well, getting into trouble. Admittedly, he was far better behaved than the Weasley twins, but so were a lot of people.

Harry closed his gaping mouth, poured the contents of the envelope onto the desk and saw the gold badge of responsibility on all of his papers. Harry picked it up and held it up to the light. The Hogwarts symbol was engraved at the top with the word "Headboy" was engraved below it. Finally, Harry smiled and whipped out a fresh piece of parchment.

"Hermione," he wrote.

"Congratulations on your being Headgirl. We all knew you would make it. I guess we'll be seeing each other a lot next term, not that we never see each other anyway. Enough of my babbling. See you on September 1st in the lead compartment.

Yours,

Harry Potter

Headboy

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"

Harry grinned as he thought of how Hermione would act when she got his letter. Of course he was joking when he put his official title down below his name. Harry looked at Hedwig's cage and asked the school owl to make just one more stop before returning to Hogwarts. The owl obliged him and held out its leg waiting for the letter. It flew away and Harry's eyes wandered back to his badge.

He heard his cousin stop snoring, and heard the footsteps of his large Uncle getting out of bed. Frantically, Harry put the badge back in the envelope and shoved the entire thing into his trunk, briefly glimpsing at the blanket and invitation he had found the night before.

"Boy!" Vernon shouted, pounding on his door. "Get your useless bum out of bed and make breakfast."

Harry looked back at the window and closed it, silently counting the days, hours, minutes and seconds until September 1st arrived.

When Harry had finished preparing breakfast and had retreated up into the solitude of his room, he once again took the old blanket from his trunk. He fingered the "HP" initials that were embroidered into its corner and ran his thumb along the satin edge.

Remus was expected to appear at 9:00 that morning to help Harry practice his Defense skills. Ordinarily Harry would not be allowed to practice magic, however the Ministry had granted Harry permission, as the previous year had proven that only Harry could kill Lord Voldemort.

When the former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge had fired the killing curse at the dark lord, Voldemort had only laughed and shot the same curse back. Fudge never had a chance; simply a fool's hope, that by killing Voldemort, he would be the savior of the wizarding world, and thus reelected. When Fudge fell, so did the ministry. If not for Dumbledore, Voldemort would have taken over then and there. Fudge's successor, Amos Diggory, was a better organizer of defense tactics, swifter in ordering offensive action, and better at initiating conflict management. It was Diggory himself who had given Harry the approval to train during the summer while away from Hogwarts.

In any case, Harry awaited Remus' arrival, and began to grow bored as he watched the clock flip its numbers from 9:05 to 9:06. And from 9:06 it went to 9:07, and so on. Harry stood and paced about his room, becoming worried as the minutes flipped by. Remus was typically punctual. Hopefully, nothing had happened. A barrage of images flew at Harry's brain. Remus lying dead with Voldemort standing over his fallen form, laughing. Remus in a forest with leaves falling on his forgotten body. Remus at the foot of a flight of stairs with his neck at an uncomfortable-

"Stop!" Harry commanded his brain. One could only tolerate so many bad thoughts before going crazy. "He's not dead, just busy," Harry rationalized, "Someone would have been here to tell me if Remus was dead. Probably Tonks."

It was at that moment as Harry was berating himself for thinking morbid thoughts that Remus popped out of thin air into Harry's room. Harry looked him over, and determined that Remus had indeed, had a busy night.

"Rough night?" Harry asked, curious at Remus' haggard appearance.

"I'm sure you have an idea of just how rough." Remus sighed and threw Harry a box of Bertie Bott's before continuing. "There was a raid in Knockturn Alley. A Deatheater had threatened a Hogwart's student getting her supplies and an Order member intercepted it. Then reinforcements were called in and a full force raid was initiated." Remus sighed again, worn from the night before.

"Was it anyone I know?" Harry asked, concerned for whoever the unlucky student was.

"You do." Remus admitted. Hesitantly, he spoke her name. "Lavender Brown was hit by a stunning spell, but she is alright." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "She was sent to St. Mungo's, but was released within an hour. Apparently," Remus continued, "the trauma of being called a blood traitor did more damage than the stunning spell."

Harry nodded his head, pensively chewing on a spaghetti flavored jellybean. He was glad that Lavender wasn't hurt, but he was even happier that it hadn't been anyone he was closer with, like Hermione, Ginny, or even Luna.

"By the way," Remus added, "Congratulations on being Headboy. Your dad would be proud of you." Harry grinned slightly, and wondered if Sirius would have been as well, or simply disappointed that Harry could no longer break the rules, but enforce them instead.

Remus stood and expanded Harry's room with an expansion charm followed by a sound proofing charm. Harry withdrew his wand and prepared himself for a tough training session. Remus never held back, especially when he had nights like last night.

An hour and a half later, Harry lie on the floor next to his bed, completely exhausted, and covered in sweat. Remus sat against the wall by Harry's window and breathed heavily. He looked at Harry and chuckled slightly. Harry looked over at Remus and gave him a curious look.

"Nothing." Remus said, "It's just that when your father and I would duel, it would end much like this. Both of us exhausted, and neither of us saying a word. Then of course, Sirius would start clapping and calling us a pair of old men." Remus looked up at the ceiling. "Merlin, I would give anything to have that back."

Harry grinned. He loved hearing about his father's youth, when he was not being a metaphoric ass of course. A jolt ran through Harry's brain as he remembered the blanket and the invitation that lie at the bottom of his trunk. Shaking, he got up and dragged himself over to his trunk. Remus looked at him curiously and watched as Harry pulled the blanket and envelope out of the trunk and trudge beside Remus.

"I found these yesterday while I was cleaning out the Dursley's garage. I know the blanket was mine, but I was wondering if you could tell me about the other thing." Harry explained.

Remus opened the envelope and took out the invitation and read through it. After a moment of consideration, he said, "Well, it obviously wasn't for you. You were already born."

Harry tapped the back of his head against the wall. "I know that, Remus, but if it's not for me, then who is it for? Is it possible that my parents were going to have another kid?"

"It is possible, although I wouldn't have known about it. When your parents went into hiding after you were born, I didn't see them too much. Sirius thought I was a Deatheater, and I thought Sirius was a Deatheater... we didn't talk very much after that." Remus reminisced.

"So you don't know what this means then?" Harry asked, disappointed.

"I'm sorry Harry, but... if it means what I think it does, then Lily could have been pregnant went she died." Remus said, upset at the thought of one of his best friend's child not making it into the world.

Harry looked over at him and sighed. His question still remained unanswered.

The rest of the summer passed uneventfully. Harry had more dreams involving the auburn haired girl, and his scar sometimes prickled when he woke, but he couldn't sense Voldemort in any of the dreams.

The day before Harry left for King's Cross, he stared out the window of his room. Remus had "bent" the rules a bit and left his room slightly enlarged, and Harry's room was finally bigger than a closet.

When the thought surfaced in Harry's brain that he would never have to return to Privet Drive, a smile crept on Harry's face. He was leaving the hell hole he had been forced to live in for sixteen years. Next year he could be living in a flat with Ron. Harry began laughing and jumped for joy. He had made it. It almost killed him, but he had triumphed over the Dursley's. As Harry tucked into bed later on that night, the smile remained, and as he cleared his mind before succumbing to unconsciousness, it was his last coherent thought.