I wrote this for a contest on MuggleNet a few months prior to the release of Deathly Hallows; it is my version of the beginning of that book. If you like it, you ought to read my story Beginning Again, which is my version of the epilogue. It's very similar to this, for some reason. Anyways... hope you enjoy. Reveiws are greatly appreciated.

Seventeen

On a cold, dark night at the turn of the ages, the little suburb of Surrey was playing host yet again to events of colossal importance. Not that Surrey's inhabitants were aware of these occurrences; for the most part they were oblivious, drifting through uneasy sleep in the safety of their polished houses. There were precisely three people in all of Surrey who understood the significance of past and present events: Arabella Figg, asleep in a house that smelled strongly of cabbage and cats; Harry Potter, who sat in a dimly lit bedroom, watching the clock with anxiety and anticipation; and a cat, who perched perfectly still on the garden wall of Number Four, Privet Drive.

The cat, a bespectacled tabby, sat upon the brick wall exactly as it had on another fateful night sixteen years before. For hours it sat as motionless as a statue, with its vivid yellow eyes fixed upon the only lit room in number Four – the room in which Harry Potter laid half-asleep, eyes on the clock. Harry was quite tired, but kept himself in the most uncomfortable position possible so as to keep himself from nodding off. When his clock read 11:58 pm, the cat stirred on the garden wall below. It fixed its eyes on the wall beside it, and a golden pocket watch appeared there- a watch with moons and planets where the numbers should have been. The cat glanced at it once, flicked its tail, and the pocket watch was gone.

At 11:59, Harry Potter sat up in bed. He would be seventeen in one minute, and the magic of Number Four, Privet Drive would cease to protect him as it had done for sixteen years. He was going to leave there forever. He would never have to see the Dursleys again. Harry didn't know how he felt about this; on one hand, he was jubilant, for they could never mistreat him again. But if it hadn't been for their many years of hardship, would he be ready for what he had to do now? Would he be Harry at all?

No, he decided. He would be different. He wouldn't be as strong as he needed to be – and for that, if only that, he had the Dursleys to thank.

The clock struck midnight. Harry shivered; he was seventeen. He leaped out of bed and stood beside his trunk. It was packed, and he was ready to leave.

Below in the garden, the cat stood up and stretched itself, as though it had been waiting to do this all day. After a moment, it leaped off the wall into the flowerbed, where it changed – so quickly that a passerby wouldn't have noticed at all – into a tall, stern-looking woman wearing emerald green robes and a pointed hat.

The woman brushed herself off, straightened her spectacles, and stepped out of the flowerbed. By some unspoken signal, two figures appeared beside her, dark cloaks swishing silently through the bitter air.

"Lupin," she greeted them. "Mad-Eye?"

They nodded, and she nodded back, her mouth a grim slash. Without any word, the three strode quietly up the path to the Dursley's front door.

"Shall we enter, then?" wheezed the figure the woman had addressed as Mad-Eye. At her curt nod, he reached a gnarled hand toward the doorknob – but before he could turn it, the door was flung open to reveal Harry standing resolutely in its frame.

The man called Mad-Eye jumped backward with a muffled yell, drawing his wand like a dagger from its sheath – but the other man, Lupin, put a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Mad-Eye," he said, smiling. "It's Harry. Get that eye fixed soon, won't you?" He reached forward and grasped the boy's hand. "It's good to see you, Harry. You're all packed?"

Harry nodded, also grinning at the sight of the three. He stepped forward, dragging his trunk and owl's cage into the garden. He looked to the sky, free at last, and then turned back to Mad-Eye with an effervescent expression.

"Where're we going, then?" he asked. "Grimmauld Place?"

"That would be the most sensible destination," growled Mad-Eye. "'Course, it's completely up to you, Harry."

Harry blinked, startled by these words. Lupin noticed his expression, and said,

"Ah. We might as well tell him now, eh? You are the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry. It was decided a few days ago. We would have informed you before, but…" He nodded furtively in the direction of the Dursleys' front door. "We thought it prudent, for the time being, to keep away from the Muggles."

"Yes, but I… I'm just… what?" sputtered Harry. "I didn't think you'd – why would you choose me?" But even as he asked this, the answer was clear in his mind.

"With Dumbledore… well, with Dumbledore gone, who else would we choose?" said Lupin quietly. "You are the center of our revolution. And you're of age, Harry. You're a man now."

This realization was beginning to dawn on Harry clearly for the first time. He looked at his feet, then back up again. His throat felt constricted, and McGonnagall's eyes burned on his face.

"Alright," he muttered. "I guess… we can go to Grimmauld Place, then."

"Good answer," said Mad-Eye. "Well, we'd better be getting on."

"You can Apparate, Potter?" said Professor McGonnagall curtly.

Harry nodded, and glanced for the last time upon Number 4, Privet Drive. "Be ready, then," she said. "One… two… three!"

With that, the four wizards spun on the spot and vanished, leaving Privet Drive dark and silent in the night.