I always wondered about the man who lived at the end of the street. The alone man. He was always polite, and helpful. But he had a look about him, the look of a man who'd done things to other human beings that should be done.

He was seen every day, just minding his garden, or smoking his pipe. He had a contented look when he was doing either, but still hidden underneath was pain. I had always wondered what the pain was about, but I never had the guts to ask him, the alone man.

I had the impression that my Mother knew him once, long ago. She'd smile sadly when she was asked about him, he'd never be reached to give a history when one wanted to ask.

My name is Thomas Geneva Johnson; my Mother's maiden name is Granger. I am nine years old and I can recall that every year the Alone Man would sit on his doorstep, smoking his pipe, that or you'd find him working in his garden.

For years I had always feared the man, thinking him an evil warlock with his evil minions hidden inside the house, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting kid. Then later I thought him a man ready to lash out at any kid who disturbed his peace.

He did once, though not at a kid. Some portly man had swaggered into him. Then when he saw him he made some remarks that caused the Alone Man to say some very naughty things to the man. The man merely laughed, saying that the Military had done nothing for him, making him even worse. Then he said something else that caused the Alone Man to strike out and cause major bodily harm to the man. Nobody dared annoy him after then.

He however did have a steady stream of visitors. Old and young, men and woman, all sorts of people came to see him. He'd treat each one with respect, but you could tell he wasn't really into it. Once I saw a man I could only describe as greasy walk up to him. He said something and walked away. I never saw the Alone Man get as pale as that day.

After that day he was never the same, he'd still do the same things, but it seemed that he needed something to take his mind off of something else. He always had this aura of sorrow around him too.

I had heard once that he owned the local pub and worked the bar keep for a couple years, but I wasn't born until he quit. Then after he quit and sold the bar to my father his health started deteriorating, until it was rumored that he was dying slowly, little by little.

My mother always was nice to him, and by extension so was I. He never seemed to pay any attention, but every time I would ask him if he needed any help, or if he wanted any company he get a small smile.

A year passed, life went on. I got a letter from a strange school, someplace for Hogs with Warts. My mother, when pressed, suggested that I speak to the Alone Man.

I did.

XxXx

I had never been so frightened as I was the day I opened that door. I watched, fearing the results, as the door opened. I was willing my hand to stop, but my neural passageways wouldn't connect. Then, I walked in and sat down on the couch, and then I just looked at the pictures on the mantle piece.

I watched the pictures dance, kiss, hug, talk, do all sorts of things. All the while my mind was asking why? How?

"Your Aunt." I heard a voice behind me say, I couldn't help it, I jumped.

"I, I don't have an aunt sir." I replied. "My mother certainly didn't have any siblings, and my father was an only child also."

The Alone Man nodded knowingly. "Ah yes…your mother never did care that much about her sister after finding out about Hogwarts." I saw a far off look in The Alone Man's eyes. "But enough about the past. You wanted to know about Hogwarts, right?"

"What is Hogwarts?" I blurted. I was full of other questions, but this was the most important.

The Alone Man got another misty-eyed distant look. "Hogwarts is the best place in the world. Sure it's school, but it's so much more. It's a boarding school, so in your first year you'll start pining for home, or so I've been told. It goes away.

"One thing you might want to know…Magic is real." He added conversationally.

"You're having me on!" I cried.

"If I hadn't given up Magic I'd show you right now. But I did!" He cried at me. "Look at the pictures! How could those move if there wasn't such thing as Magic!

"If only your mother wasn't so foolish." I heard him sigh after his outburst.

And thus my relationship with the Alone Man, or Harry, began. I'd walk over to his house everyday to do some chores, and he'd spin wonderful tales about this Hogwarts school. I listened to stories of him and his two best friends trying to get the Philosopher's Stone, only to have it destroyed less then two days later.

Then I heard about how Harry, as I was thinking of him more and more, slew a giant snake that could kill you just by looking at you. And how the school turned against him when they learnt about his ability to talk to snakes.

Then I heard about Dementors and his godfather. Escaping the school for weekends in the little village outside of the school. About how the rat he'd known as Scabbers had been the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort.

Then came Fourth Year. I heard about the Triwizard tournament and how the entire school turned on him again. And how he fell in love with the woman he claimed was my aunt.

Unbeknownst to others I did a little fact checking and did find that my grandparents gave birth to two girls. One was named Emily and the other was named Hermione.

Fifth year, the DA, Umbridge, and the Department of Mysteries. I heard all the tales, then I saw the pain in his eyes when he described the most clear moment in his life, when my aunt got hit with the flame whip curse and he thought she died. I also cried at night, after leaving his house, thinking of the scar etched on his hand.

Sixth year. The trips down memory lane with the former Headmaster, falling under a love potion, watching the girl/woman he loved chase after another, and feeling the despair of watching the closest thing to a grandfather die. I heard about the firefight in the halls of the school, and the night spent trying to regroup and assess the damage.

Seventh Year. The final battle, Horcrux hunting, and finally coming clean on something, was only the tip of the iceberg. I heard him spin the tale of the final battle as if it were nothing. As he described it, it was a quiet affair. No banter, just violence. Then watching as the woman he loved got hit with a curse and fell into a coma.

I feel that he left out some details, but just listening to it I wondered how he lived on…knowing he killed before.

But then came the bombshell, finding out that she died only two years ago. I had known that Harry had been very distraught one day, but now that I knew why his ramblings and just bursts of sudden affection for me made sense.

I went off to Hogwarts that September. Surprisingly enough, my mum and Harry drove me to the station, his old Ford being useful for once. Harry kept on reassuring me that Hogwarts would be great, and that I'd love it there. Along the way back, I heard, he kept on comforting my mum. I arrived at Hogwarts and from there, got sorted. I made it into Gryffindor and was in the same dormitory that Harry had occupied fourteen years ago. I even had his bed, which was pretty neat, I thought. But, the most surprising thing was when I was out walking by the lake during the spring.

I came by a tree that looked like it had been there a while, a stout yew. I laid back and looked at the water, but then I decided to look at the tree itself.

Engraved in the bark, I found four names next to each other. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were one of them, and the other was James Potter and Lily Evans. I kept silent about my discovery on my trip home after my first year, but before I walked to my house I hugged Harry.

"Thank you for the ride, Uncle." I said.

To this day, I believe I saw a tear in his eye as he parked his car in the garage.

A/N: Just a little something to hold all my readers (However few) over until I'm able to finish Rewritting the Past-Chapter Two, and Choices Chapter Ten.

Eldar