1st November, 1981: 11.52pm
The inhabitants of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, were sleeping. For them, it was another night of comfortable mediocrity. The raucous sounds of celebration were too distant to penetrate their double glazing. And a good thing too, for the decent folks of Little Whinging felt it only proper to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night with everyone else. The warm flickering glow of sodium streetlamps bathed the pavement orange, bleaching out the stars.
Their quiet night was interrupted when a white bearded man twisted into existence at the end of the street. He whipped around, the tip of the wooden rod he held glowing as dangerously as his icy blue eyes. Satisfied that he was alone, he marginally relaxed; the golden glow fading as he lowered his wand. He reached deep inside his long purple robes with his free hand and withdrew a small silver device. It was not unlike an ornate cigarette lighter, and gave a satisfying click as his thumb drew back the mechanism. An orb of light left the nearest streetlamp with a soft whoosh. Clicking several more times, the lights of Privet Drive left their housings to be consumed by the device. The man was eventually left with only a little unveiled starlight and the barest sliver of the moon to light his way. A large tabby slinked through a gap in the hedge and padded to the gate of Number Four. Had the light been a little brighter, the man knew he'd recognise the odd markings about his friend's eyes. He quickly strode over to join her.
"Minerva, thank you for guarding the house while I saw to the arrangements. Hagrid should be arriving shortly with young Harry."
While he spoke, the tabby had grown into the stern figure of a woman, complete with square-framed glasses and a long emerald cloak.
"Albus, we can't do this. I've been watching the house all day and these are the worst muggles imaginable! You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son, he-"
The tired looking man held up a hand to stop her.
"Voldemort's followers are still on the prowl. This is the best protection we can offer him. I think, Minerva, that you underestimate the power of family."
"What of Black? Is he not family enough?" she asked, not unkindly.
He shuffled, looking uncomfortable.
"Minerva." The twinkle had gone from his eyes. "I have reason to believe he betrayed them to Voldemort."
She was speechless. Even under starlight, it was clear her face had gone deathly pale. Albus tried to push past the silence.
"And anyway, growing up in the muggle world could reap its own benefits. The fame that would follow him in our world would turn any boy's head. Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?" He peered over his half-moon spectacles at his deputy.
Before she could gather herself to respond, he turned sharply away. He could hear a growing rumble over the distant sounds of celebration. A figure appeared in the distance, invisible to all but Dumbledore.
"Albus, what are you looking at?" she asked curiously.
"Hagrid is here."
Minerva McGonagall jumped backwards with a hiss as a motorbike with the proportions of a land rover fell out of the sky, skidding to a halt in front of the pair. Dumbledore merely looked amused.
"Merlin's beard, Albus, what were you thinking?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life." His tone brooked no argument. His eyes twinkled as he continued: "Besides, I modified the bike myself just yesterday".
She shot him a withering glare before turning back to the mountain of a man in front of her. Hagrid dismounted and gently plucked the sleeping baby out of the sidecar.
"Evenin', Perfessers."
McGonagall winced. He had spoken at a volume deemed quiet only to him. Then her expression quickly slipped to one of confusion, as she took in the bike a second time.
"Albus, isn't that Black's contraption?"
"Ah, yes. It was supposedly loaned to the Potters for use as emergency transport. I removed Black's tracking charm and modified it for Hagrid before we left, though. No need to leave it for him to use - after all, it is most difficult to trace."
She shook her head in sad disbelief. Dumbledore turned back to Hagrid.
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir – took a bit o' work to avoid all them fireworks but even so, the young 'un fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore looked mildly exasperated with that revelation.
"The Ministry couldn't even keep this under wraps for twenty-four hours. I must have passed half a dozen feasts and parties on the way here. They're calling him the 'Boy-Who-Lived', now." He sighed. "I suppose we've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
Professor McGonagall, too, looked frustrated. "The Obliviators are going to have their work cut out. 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, Albus?"
A flicker passed over his face before he replied "It would certainly seem so." After a beat, he continued: "Would either of you care for a sherbert lemon?"
Professor McGonagall responded with a curt "No, thank you", annoyed at his evasion. Hagrid, however, happily held out a hand the size of a dustbin lid. Dumbledore dutifully poured an impossibly large number of the sweets from out of a small drawstring bag. Hagrid happily crunched on them as Professor McGonagall stared pointedly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore, however, was avoiding her gaze by rummaging through his robes. He withdrew a letter and tucked it into Harry's basket.
His wand slipped back out of his sleeve into his hand. A few twitches and mutters later, a warm light flashed around the child, followed by a rush of glowing mist swirling about the house. Professor McGonagall recognised the warming and protective charms, but her eyes grew wide at the last piece of magic. She had never seen the like.
As Dumbledore knelt to lift the basket, Hagrid stepped forward.
"Can… can I say goodbye to Harry before we leave, Perfesser?"
"Of course, Hagrid."
As the huge man sobbed over the sleeping boy, Professor McGonagall gestured in their direction.
"Is a letter really enough? Shouldn't we at least knock?"
"Normally I would, Minerva, but truth be told I don't fully understand Lily's protection myself. I know my modifications won't truly be complete until Harry's family freely take him in, and I'm unsure if our presence will affect her magic." He gently took the basket from Hagrid and placed it upon the doorstep of Number Four.
The three of them stood respectfully, a brief moment of silence marking the moment. The war was over.
Dumbledore was the first to step back. He reached into a pocket and withdrew an odd sock. A quick mutter of "portus" and a flash of gold soon followed. He handed the sock to the other two.
"This will take you back to Hogwarts. I'll be along shortly, after a couple of errands. Feel free to join the celebrations, if you like." He paused. "You do understand that nobody must know of this location?" They both nodded. Dumbledore bowed his head. "Then you understand my actions tonight."
He reached forward as if to tap the sock with his wand, but at the last second flicked it upwards and intoned:
"Obliviate."
The look of shock on the two faces was quickly replaced by a dreamy expression, before the portkey whisked them back to the school gates.
He looked around for signs of their presence, shrinking the bike and placing it in a pocket. Thumbing a second lever on the deluminator with a loud clunk, he returned the stolen light to wash over Privet Drive. Then Dumbledore turned on one heel and vanished silently into the darkness.
Later that night, Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office. Instead of joining the celebrations up and down the country, he was sat at his desk composing the second of two letters. This one was addressed to himself. The first had been placed in a protective leather cylinder along with a vial of silvery liquid. Fawkes had vanished a short while ago to hide it far from prying eyes. Phoenixes were known for their roaming of inhospitable lands, and a place deemed hidden to one was likely inaccessible.
Satisfied, he cast some drying sand over the ink and poured himself a vintage firewhisky. This particular one was distilled during the passing of Halley's Comet in 1910, and was literally saturated in magic. It had been gifted to him in 1945, and felt rather apt for the end of a war. He leant back in his seat, swirling the amber liquid and staring into space. Sighing, he stopped nursing his drink and reached for his wand. Pointing it at himself, he whispered: "Alas, if you wish to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself."
He took a deep breath and concentrated on the whereabouts of one Harry James Potter.
"Obliviate."
Author's Notes (New):
There's no point in excuses, so I'll just say that I have my reasons for not writing and leave it at that. Before I stopped writing, I had a lot of notes and about 50,000 words of draft written out. I've been doing better of late, and pulled up this old project to work on. I'm not going to put down an update schedule: I learnt my lesson before. I do enjoy writing, even if I find it hard at times, so I will see how this goes. I'll leave my original Author Notes below as they are mostly still relevant. The first two chapters have a couple of minor changes, but are more or less the same as before. Everything from Chapter 3 onwards will be previously unposted material.
As a final note: rather irrationally, I find this project incredibly daunting. There are a lot of excellent fanfictions preceding me, and I want to feel like I'm adding something worthwhile to the community. I hope to do my best, and to get further with the project than I did previously.
Author's Notes (Original):
Welcome, readers, to my first fanfiction. This is rather an ambitious project; I hope to eventually write an AU of the original series. There is no single point of divergence. Rather, there are several small changes in addition to an expansion of the original setting. I hope to include more elements of culture, history and politics than in canon. I also aim to explore the sense of wonder and mystery surrounding magic. Although there will be many parallels at first, I fully expect this to snowball into a vastly different story. I will be using canon events as a vague rule of thumb and source of inspiration rather than a set of 'stations' for my story to stop at.
For those wanting to know more about what to expect, I give the following hints:
- Alchemy and exploration of magical theory will be important throughout. Expect different subjects to affect each other.
- Characters may be written differently than in canon, but will be clearly based on their original characters.
- This is not a bashing fic. Also, no pairings are planned as of yet. They are waaay too young to be thinking about that kind of stuff!
- Magical theory may drift away from canon. I have some original ideas, and want to make magic a potentially more powerful tool than in canon.
- The wizarding world will feel larger but also a little empty after the high death toll of the last war.
Constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome. Details I am currently deciding on include Hogwarts uniforms (book or film version? Or some happy medium?), how to approach certain characters (Draco, Snape and Quirrell in particular) and how to write a shopping scene without running into cliché too much! I aim to update roughly on a fortnightly basis, but this may vary as I am settling back into writing after a long time away.
I do not understand the importance of a disclaimer on a site dedicated to derivative works, but feel free to enlighten me should you know whether or not they are necessary. I of course am not JK Rowling and do not profess to own her works. On that note, I realise I have been inspired by other works on this site. However, I have been a reader here for at least two years and possibly do not remember where certain ideas have come from. I will attempt to acknowledge writers in the Author's Notes whenever I can, but if I miss a trick feel free to point out the stories that got there first.
One work I discovered recently was uncomfortably close to some of my own ideas. I refer to the wonderful What You Leave Behind by Newcomb. I have already spoken with them and they were extremely helpful on advising me with my own writing. Go and check out their work! I suspect you will adore it as much as I did.