Hello everyone!
Since I am missing Harry Potter a lot at the moment, I took it upon myself to re-write the Harry Potter series, not because I think it needs improving but just to add a different twist to the story. The main plot will be the same and the same problems will arise in each book, but things will be different to the actual stories. At first, it will seem similar to the actual books because im not sure how to write the first couple of chapters, but once they get to Hogwarts ill start changing it more.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, OR PLOT OF THIS STORY. ALL OF THIS IS OWNED BY THE AMAZING J.K ROWLING.
The brisk, icy cold air gushed into the warm hall of number 4, Privet Drive, and right into a cheerful Mr. Dursley's face. He stepped out into the air and shut the door behind him, pausing a moment outside to breath in the fresh air, tilting his head upwards so he might scan the expanse of the sky, which was covered in a thick layer of grey cloud.
"Nice, ordinary day!" Mr. Dursley exclaimed, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile. You see, the Dursley's were a very ordinary family; they liked ordinary things and scoffed at the mention of imagination or magic. They were the most un- eccentric family one could possibly meet.
Mr. Dursley himself was a short man, with hardly any neck and a bulging stomach. His face mildly resembled his stomach. He had small, pudgy eyes and frown lines forever creased his forehead. His hair was wispy upon his head, giving off the impression that he was far older than he was.
"Vernon!" Mrs. Dursley called out as she threw open the door, her tall frame standing there. Mrs. Dursley was quite the opposite to her husband, appearance wise. She was tall, had a full head of hair that waved down to her shoulders, and had more neck than the average human, which was rather useful as she spent most of her days spying on the neighbors and 'tutting' at any abnormal behavior that her neighbors took part in.
"Yes, Petunia?" Mr. Dursley replied, his eyes boring into his wife's expectantly. She held out a brown paper bag, which was slightly soggy from the sandwich in it.
"Your lunch, dear." Mrs. Dursley proclaimed as he took it from her and pecked her on the cheek.
"Take care of our little tike, will you?" Mr. Dursley said, and in way of response Mrs. Dursley planted a kiss on his cheek and turned inside to attend to the wailing baby of theirs.
~o~o~
The first sign of any abnormal behavior that Mr. Dursley was presented with was as he turned round the corner of his street, he noticed a tabby cat reading a map. Reading? No, no. Thought Mr. Dursley as he whipped his head back around to stare at the cat. There was no sign of a map in sight, but instead the cat was reading the street sign. No, looking at the street sign, cats can't read! Is what Mr. Dursley told himself, before his mind wandered to a large order of drills coming in that morning.
~o~o~
He was next confronted with funny looking people talking excitedly to one another, but, what really caught Mr. Dursley's attention was that they were wearing robes of all different colours! The outrage Mr. Dursley felt at their ridiculous behavior made his face turn red.
Lastly, as he got up after sitting around all morning, yelling at a few people and making some important phone calls he decided to get a donut from the bakery across the street so get a donut he did. He was quick to cross the street when there was a lapse in traffic, and he purchased a nice, fat looking donut from the bakery. He was standing by the road, waiting for the traffic to stop flowing when he caught the conversation of a bunch of the 'robe wearers' as he named them in his mind.
"The Potter's? Yes that's what I heard to!" A wizened old man exclaimed, clad in violet robes. A woman with chocolate brown hair nodded in agreement, herself wearing emerald robes. "Such a pity. But their son Harry…" Mr. Dursley zoned out from their conversation at the mention of Harry. Potter? Harry? Wasn't that the name of… of… well, Mrs. Dursley's abnormal sister's son? Mr. Dursley shuddered. What if word had spread that the Dursley's were related to… a bunch of… wizard's! He pushed that thought out of his mind. Of course they couldn't be talking about Lily and James Potter. There were plenty of people with the last name Potter, weren't there?
And as for the name Harry, he was fairly sure the boys name was Harold, wasn't it?
So a very frazzled Mr. Dursley returned home late that night, as the orange glow of the sun filtered into the Dursley's lounge room. Mr. Dursley loosened his tie and flopped down on the lounge, picking up the remote to turn on the TV.
He frowned at the news on the television. "And many owl sightings have been spotted today, frequently more than usual, even more than owls are spotted at night. Owl specialists have been un-able to find a reason as to the owl's un-usual behavior. Now, onto Tim with the weather." The news reporter said, a smile on his lips.
"Thanks Joe. It seems that instead of the showers I promised for last night, people have been reporting that they have been having showers of stars on them, but I swear people, when I said showers I meant water, not stars!" Tim said, laughing at his own joke before his face was all seriousness. "It's not bonfire night yet folks, so hold back on the celebrations, it's only one more week! I promise tonight though, that there will be showers of rain with a max temperature of 2 degrees!" Tim exclaimed, just as Mr. Dursley turned off the TV.
Mrs. Dursley sat down on the lounge next to him and began to prattle on about Dudley, who had learned a new word (shan't!). "Isn't he just the most precious little angel, Vernon? I would pay someone a million dollars if they could find a more perfect child!" Mrs. Dursley smiled cheerfully, whilst Mr. Dursley chuckled.
Mrs. Dursley turned to her husband, and being the over-perceptive type she was, she instantly knew her husband had something on his mind. "Vernon?" She asked, her voice demanding. Mr. Dursley sighed and looked at his wife carefully, before hesitantly opening his mouth to speak. He knew that Mrs. Dursley hated to mention there sister, in fact most of the time they pretended she didn't have one but there was no use in pretending know. "What about your sister, heard from her lately?" He said nervously, and in response Mrs. Dursley narrowed her eyes.
"No." She responded curtly.
"Well, err, their son is about Dudley's age, isn't he? What was his name again? Harold or something?" Mr. Dursley wished he hadn't said anything at all and just made up some story about work.
"Harry. Nasty common name if you ask me." Mrs. Dursley snapped, getting up and making her way into the kitchen.
~o~o~
By the time the Dursley's were ready for bed, Mrs. Dursley had all but forgotten Mr. Dursley mentioning the Potter's and while she was in the bathroom connected to their bedroom, Mr. Dursley sat down beside his window and peered out into the darkness below.
He almost fell off of his chair by the window at the sight of the tabby cat from earlier that morning perched on the brick wall outside their house. It sat stiff and un-moving, staring at corner of the street with a deep concentration, as if something was going to materialize out of nothingness. Nonsense! Mr. Dursley pushed that ridiculous thought out of his head and laid down in the bed beside Mrs. Dursley. Within minutes, his wife's soft breathing signaled that she was asleep, but Mr. Dursley could not fall asleep, just yet. After a long hour of lying awake, thinking about those strange people, Mr. Dursley drifted into a restless, un-comfortable sleep.
~o~o~
Outside number four Privet Drive, the tabby cat sat still and un-moving on the brick wall where she had been sitting for a majority of the day. She looked like a typical tabby cat, with the familiar markings and glowing yellow eyes, except that she had dark marking around her eyes in the shape of squares.
Other than that though, she seemed quite the ordinary cat. And yet, still this ordinary seeming cat sat, staring at a distant corner of Privet Drive, in a somewhat expectant manor?
Suddenly, a wizened man appeared on the drive, wearing long, light blue robes with silver outlines of moons dotted here and there. His half moon-spectacles were perched on a nose that appeared to have been broken more than once, and his hair and beard were both of a silvery-white colour and long enough to tuck into the large, brown belt around his waist.
He was clearly a man that did not realize that everything from his clothing to the very man himself was not welcome on a street such as this. His blue eyes shone from behind the half moon spectacles and his hand slipped into his robes to return a moment later with what appeared to be a silver lighter. He opened the lighter and clicked it, except instead of a flame appearing there, one of the lights from the street lamp zoomed into his lighter. He clicked the silver object 12 times, before shutting it and slipping it back into his robes.
He wandered down to the brick wall, where he sat down beside the cat, which was suddenly replaced by a stern looking woman in green robes and a black, pointed hat. Her glasses matched the marking's that had been around the cat's eyes, and she stared at the old man beside her piercingly.
"Ah, Minerva, I trust that Hagrid told you I would be here?" The man addressed the woman beside him, who frowned and nodded her head in the affirmative.
"And why might you be here, Albus?" Minerva asked in a cold tone.
"Care for a sherbet lemon?" Albus said, clearly ignoring her previous question and hold out a yellow lolly. Minerva frowned.
"What on earth is that?" She asked. Albus chuckled
"It's a muggle's sweet that im rather fond of." Albus said in way of explanation before plopping the lolly in his mouth.
"Have you seen the news Albus? Even the muggle's are noticing something's up! People could at least try totone it down a bit!" Minerva sniffled in dissaporval.
"Alas, it is a day for celebration's Minerva, you should be off celebrating yourself Minerva," Albus smiled warmly at her. "I must've stopped at seven parties before arriving her." Albus chuckled. Minerva shut her eyes, took a steadying breath before opening them.
"Yes, yes, it's all well that You-Know-Who-" Minerva began.
"Oh, please Minerva, call him by his name, I've never understood fear of a name!" Albus chuckled.
"Of course you didn't, we all know that you're the only one who You-Know- oh all right, Voldemort ever feared, Albus," Minerva pointed out.
"Oh stop it Minerva, I've never blushed so hard in my life!" Albus chuckled.
"Albus! We have not time for that. Do you- do you know what everyone has been saying? They… they've been saying that… that the reason he fell, was… was that… that Lily and James…" Minerva trailed off. Albus nodded his head, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"I'm afraid that Lily and James are dead." Albus said softly, to the gasp of Minerva. She buried her face in her hands and tears slid down her cheeks. "Oh, Albus, I had hoped that it was just a rumor. Lily and James!" Minerva choked back a sob and raised her head to stare into Albus' eyes.
"Indeed, their death is a tragedy," Albus sighed mournfully. Minerva wiped a tear from her cheek and looked at Albus again, her eyes full of questions.
"But, you know what else they said? They said that V-Voldemort tried to kill Harry, but the spell didn't work!" Minerva burst out. Albus nodded.
"Yes, somehow when Voldemort went to kill Harry, the spell rebounded and he lost power." Albus concluded. Minerva frowned and pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Do you really think that he's gone?" Minerva asked. Albus looked at her then shook his head.
"I don't think he is gone, Minerva. I think he is too weak to carry on, for now." Albus said. Minerva seemed to ponder his suggestion for a moment before sighing.
"So, where is Harry?" Minerva asked. At that moment, a thunderous roar ripped apart the night and moments later a large motorbike with a giant of man atop it touched down on the ground. The giant slowed the bike to a halt and gunned the engine, climbing off and walking over to Albus and Minerva. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore sir!" The giant said in way of greeting, cradling a bundle of blankets to his chest.
"I trust your flight was well Hagrid?" Albus asked, smiling at the giant. Hagrid shifted the baby into one arm and scratched his beard.
"Yep. Little Harry 'ere fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol," Hagrid said, a large tear sliding into his beard. He handed the blankets to Albus, pulling a hankerchief out of one of his pockets and blowing his nose loudly. "Shush Hagrid or we'll be found!" Minerva hissed. Hagrid nodded and wiped his eyes. "Sorry Professor McGonagall, it's just, Lily and James Potter!" Hagrid let out a loud wail.
"Hagrid!" Minerva snapped. Hagrid quickly quieted himself and sniffled, shoving the hanky back into his pocket. Albus came and stood by them again, smiling at the two.
"Albus! Where's Harry?" Minerva asked accusingly.
"I placed him on the doorstep with a note."
"You don't mean to say- he has to live with these people? Albus you can't! They're the most muggle like people I've ever met! And they have this horrible son!" Minerva exclaimed.
"They're the only family he's got." Albus said softly.
"Albus! He's going to be famous before he can walk, before he can talk! There'll be books written about him! I wouldn't be surprised if this became Harry Potter day! You can't make him live with muggle's! Every child in our world will know his name!" Minerva exclaimed.
"Exactly. Don't you think it's better he grows up away from all that nonsense?" Albus asked, frowning at Minerva. Minerva sighed, and nodded her head in agreement.
The three parted ways, leaving a little bundle of blankets in a box with a boy resting inside them, his hair messy above his head and a lightning scar on his forehead. The little boy couldn't possibly know that he would be woken in a few hours time by his Aunt going to get the milk, he couldn't know that he would grow up to be the most famous wizard ever known, he couldn't possibly know that all around the world, wizard's and witches were raising their glasses to him in a toast and saying "To Harry Potter! The boy who lived!"
No, at this very moment the peacefully sleeping baby boy was just that.