Title: The Potters and the Mirror of Mysteries

Rating: T/PG-13

Pairing: Bella/Harry/Ron/Hermione

Category: Fantasy/Friendship

Summary: Bella and Harry Potter are twins, but they aren't exactly normal. They are wizards. And a whole new world is about to reveal itself, that they never knew existed. But with the light and joy of magic, there must also be the darkness. Hidden away in the shadows is an evil, and it's growing. Follow Harry and Bella as they discover this whole new world, and start to discover the real origins of their family. AU. Cannon. Crossover.

Disclaimer: Text copyright- Neophobix. Based on the characters in the novel Twilight by Stephanie Meyer and the Harry Potter series by J. . No copyright infringement is intended.

AN:/ Another cross-over that I've had in the works for quite some time. Fair warning: I was using the book as a prompt so they are very similar in plot structure…. Just more my style than JK's.

Just to warn you all, it's very similar to the original story at the beginning as nothing really changes until they are introduced to the magical world.

Disclaimer: I do not own the character and most of the plot…..

– Chapter One –

The Ones Who Lived

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were never involved in anything strange or abnormal because, of course, as they would say 'Such a disruption in the community shouldn't be allowed'. But of course that was all a front to hide their real objections.

Mr Dursley was a fairly large man, who worked for a company that made drills and had recently been promoted to a director. He was infinitely pleased that his hard work had paid off, and told his wife so as they ate dinner as bits of food got caught in his thick moustache. Mrs Dursley was almost the opposite of her husband in appearance. She was tall and thin, with a long neck which she used to look over her neighbour's fences to spy on them. Their son, Dudley, seemed to have gotten the best and the worst attributes from his parents. His innocent blonde hair and dimples made him seem like an angelic boy, but his temperament was the opposite. Because although his parents seemed to believe that there was no finer boy anywhere, the rest of the street disagreed. They found him to be spoilt and grumpy most of the time, and most of the neighbours had a powerful dislike for the boy, even if he was just a year old.

But regardless, the Dursley's had everything they could ever want, but there was a secret that they tried desperately to keep hidden from anyone not already in the know. The Potters. They couldn't bare it if anyone had found out about Mrs Dursley's younger sister. For a good portion of her life, Mrs Dursley had tried to pretend she didn't have a sister and although it had gotten easier since they hadn't seen each other for a number of years. And for good reason. To say they were opposites of each other would be an understatement. The Dursley's often worried for the day that they would show up in their little neighbourhood causing, in their opinion, havoc and mayhem. They knew that the Potter's had two small children. Twins, a boy and a girl at about Dudley's age. This was just another reason to will them to stay away. They didn't want their son around children like them.

Strange going's on had been happening all day, on the dreary Tuesday when our story starts. Nothing strange or unusual to warn the Dursley's into learning what had happened, or what was yet to happen. Mr Dursley had driven to work as normal, not looking at the owls flying all over, or even the hundreds of men and women that littered the streets dressed in cloaks and all other kinds of strange attire. He didn't even notice the small tabby cat on the end of their road that seemed to be reading the street sign. It wasn't until his lunch break when he took a small walk to the bakery across the street from his office that he heard it. '

The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –'

' – yes, their children, Harry and Bella –'

Fear had flooded Mr Dudley's body then as he stopped in his tracks, the words sinking in. He didn't bother including himself in the conversation and instead he had just returned to his office as quickly as his short legs would carry him. He had reached for the phone when his hand froze. Potter wasn't that uncommon a name. He was sure that there were lots of Potter's that had a son called Harry. And as for their daughter, he was sure that her name wasn't Bella. Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure his nephew was called Harry. Mr Dursley laughed to himself a moment, thinking how worried he had been over nothing. There was no way they were talking about his extended family, but all the same he found it was a lot harder to concentrate on work that afternoon.

He decided on his drive home, that he wouldn't bother his wife with the information. No need to talk about anything abnormal, as it would just upset her. So that night he drifted into an easy sleep.

Little did he know, the tabby cat that was sat outside their street earlier in the day was now sat staring at the street corner and nothing else. Her wide amber eye gazing at it with a sense of purpose, and as if she knew what would happen an old man appeared on the corner. He was old, with a long silver beard and hair to match. He was tall and mostly concealed by a deep purple cloak, except for a pair of bright blue eyes that shone in amusement as he looked at the cat. 'I should have known' he murmured to himself with a slight chuckle. He adjusted his glasses, a pair of half-moon spectacles which sat on his long crooked nose.

He reached into his robe and searched the pockets, his eyes looking at the bright orange streetlamps that littered the streets before him. He pulled out a small silver lighter and quickly clicked it. The nearest streetlight flickered for a second before flying towards him.

Private Drive hadn't seen a man this strange for many years, and it certainly hadn't seen any such behaviour. The man's name was Albus Dumbledore, and he didn't seem to notice nor care that he probably wasn't welcome on a street such as this. Or was any of his kind of people for that matter. But Albus had a purpose for being on the empty street in the dead of night.

He clicked the device again and another streetlamp went dark with a small pop. He repeated this a further twelve times, until just the light from the moon lit the street in its dim but shimmering light. Dumbledore slipped it back into his pocket and turned back to the cat.

'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall' he said with a small crooked smile, his eyes twinkling.

The cat blinked at him, and then began to transform. Its smoky grey coloured fur began to turn into a shining emerald green cloak, while its small face began to elongate. The tail began to shrink, along with the left ear, while the right ear started to turn into a rather long black pointed hat like you would find on a witch.

Dumbledore didn't seem surprised by the transformation at all. In fact it seemed as if he had been expecting it, and when the small serious looking woman turned to him his smile just grew. She had her black hair pulled back in a tight bun, but small streaks of grey could be seen, and she wore large round glasses. Her emerald cloak brought out the green flecks in her brown eyes that despite her facial expressions held warmth as she looked at Dumbledore. As if she was inwardly greeting a close friend or family member.

'How did you know it was me?' she asked, stiffly, gently twisting to loosen her back muscles and causing her cloak to swish around her feet.

'My dear, I have never seen a cat sit so stiffly' he replied, trying to smother the smile before it reached his lips but failing almost instantly.

'You'd be stiff too if you had been sitting on that wall all day' she replied grumpily, trying to relax her muscled still. She had begun rotating her shoulders backwards and twisting her neck from side to side to try and ease the strain.

'All day?' Professor Dumbledore said with a small tone of surprise. 'When you could have been out celebrating? I think I must have seen more than ten parties on my way here alone.'

Professor McGonagall just rolled her eyes slightly. 'Oh yes, I know exactly how they are celebrating. Even the Muggles have noticed. Flocks of owls all over the place….. shooting stars in Kent – although I bet that was the work of Dedalus Diggle. It was on their news Dumbledore!' As she spoke, she got more and more irritated, and slightly louder. Dumbledore just placed one hand on the small of her back and guided her down the street until they stood in front of number four.

'You can't blame them Minerva, we have had precious little to celebrate over the last eleven years.' Dumbledore sighed.

'I know that.' McGonagall said, all but snapping at him. 'But that's still no reason for people to expose everything that we've kept secret for so long. People are out on the streets swapping rumours, during the day when there are Muggles around. They aren't even in Muggle clothes! Strutting around in robes of all colours. They must think that there is a new kind of cult happening….' McGonagall paused to take a breath and Dumbledore let out a small laugh at her rant. She threw a sharp, sideward glare at him, before changing her expression back to the same one she wore before.

As usual Professor McGonagall tended not to hold much promise to rumours and gossip thrown around by the people of her community, unless of course if it was confirmed by the most brilliant man she knew. Dumbledore.

'A fine thing it would be, that on the same day that You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared that we reveal ourselves to the Muggles.' She paused, still looking at the man beside her, whose focus was intent on the house in front of him. 'I suppose he is gone, Dumbledore?' she asked tentatively, watching his expression for anything to give her an answer.

'It certainly seems so' he muttered distracted, before snapping out of it as an owl flew overheard. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you like a sherbet lemon?' He turned to face her as he asked, grateful for his thought to change that subject.

'A what?' she asked, her nose scrunching up.

'Sherbet lemon' he stated as if obvious to everyone. 'It's a kind of Muggle sweet that I'm quite partial to.'

'Oh' she replied, turning to gaze at the house. 'No, thank you.' Her tone was cold, as if she felt that this was hardly the time to be talking of any kind of Muggle sweet, no matter how delicious.

'As I was saying,' she continued, attempting to leave her annoyance at the change of subject behind her. 'even if You-Know-You has gone-'

'Professor' Dumbledore said, cutting her off. 'surely an accomplished witch like yourself can call him by his proper name. All this You-Know-Who nonsense is most irritating. I've been trying to get people to call him by his name for over eleven years. Voldemort.'

Professor McGonagall just flinched at the name. Even though he was suspected to be dead, she still felt the fear coursing through her at the mere mention of his name.

'I know you haven't.' She sounded half-exasperated and half-admiring as she spoke, her gaze returning to him in time to watch him attempting to unstick two sherbet lemon's that he had extracted from a paper bag in his cloak. 'But you're different from the rest of us. Everyone knows that you are the one person that You-Know – oh all right Voldemort was ever afraid of.'

Dumbledore smiled sheepishly. 'You flatter me my dear Professor, but Voldemort had powers that I will never have.'

McGonagall nodded. 'Yes, because you are too noble to use them.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'It's lucky that I turned out the lights. I don't think I've blushed this much since Madam Pomfrey complimented my new earmuffs last Christmas.'

Professor McGonagall just rolled her eyes again. 'The rumours are what's worse. Have you heard what they are saying?' she asked rhetorically. Dumbledore went to answer anyway, but McGonagall cut him off by continuing. 'They are saying that last night, he turned up in Godric's Hollow at James and Lily Potter's doorstep. That he killed them both before moving on to kill their two infant children, Harry and Bella, but he couldn't.'

Dumbledore bowed his head in mourning over the loss of what he considered to be two of his closest friends.

'Oh Albus' Professor McGonagall sighed, putting her hand on his back as a tear trickled down her cheek. It had been hard not to love the Potter's. It was easy to see how very much in love they had been, and after they had Bella and Harry it only seemed to strengthen their relationship and love for their family and friends.

Dumbledore reached out and put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. 'I know… I know…' his voice heavy with emotion.

'What of their children? Is it true that he could not kill them? Two tiny babies, not even a year old. They are saying that Voldemort's power's somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.' Professor McGonagall's voice was trembling as she spoke, her eyes holding back her tears.

Dumbledore just nodded glumly, causing her to gasp in horror.

'It's – it's true?' she said, her voice shaking more violently. 'After everything he's done he couldn't kill …' she trailed off not wanting to repeat it again.

They both gazed forward at the house for a short time, neither wanting to ask how two small children with no power or even control over their situations could defeat him when he had slaughtered so many others. But they both knew it needed to be asked, so Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and voice it.

'How on earth did they survive?'

'We can only guess, Minerva' Dumbledore muttered in reply.

Professor McGonagall began to fuss, looking for a handkerchief in her many pockets and sighed when she was unable to find one. Dumbledore handed her one silently and she thanked him in a heavy voice as she dabbed her tears away.

Dumbledore pulled out a small golden pocket watch then, examining it to try and distract him from the emotional subject. The watch itself was rather strange. Instead of the standard three hands for hours, minutes and seconds, it held twelve but no numbers at all. Instead there were little planets hovering around the edge. It was apparent that it made sense to Dumbledore though, because he simply returned it back to his pocket and informed no one in particular that Hagrid was late.

'I suppose he told you where I would be by the way?' he asked Professor McGonagall, suddenly a tiny bit curious as to why she had been waiting here of all places when there wasn't someone like them for miles in all directions.

Professor McGonagall nodded. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here of all places?' she asked, her normal strict tone returning after her little emotional session.

'I've come here to bring the two young Potter children to their aunt and uncle. They are the only family they have left now, besides each other.'

Professor McGonagall was momentarily stunned.

'You don't mean – you can't possibly intend to leave them with the people who live here?' She paused as if she was expecting a punch line for the bad joke, but when one didn't come she continued. 'Dumbledore you can't! These Muggles are the worst kind's I have ever seen, you can't possibly leave them here! You couldn't find two people less like us. And I'm not even mentioning their horrid son. He kicked up a fuss today screaming for sweets. I could hear it from the other end of the street! I think he actually kicked his mother on multiple occasions –'

'It's the best place for them' Dumbledore said sternly, cutting off her little rant before it gained more momentum. 'Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything when they are older, until them I have written them a letter.'

'A letter?!' Professor McGonagall yelled, loudly. It would have attracted a lot of attention if it had not been the middle of the night, but even so Dumbledore would have to calm her down.

'Really Dumbledore, I don't think all of this can be explained in one simple letter. These people will never understand either of them! They are already famous, and it's been less than 24 hours! Dumbledore there will be books written, songs sung… Dumbledore there won't be a child in our world who doesn't know their names –'

'Yes, and they are better off growing up away from all of that.' Dumbledore said, his tone of voice telling her not to question him on this decision.

McGonagall could see his point, but decided not to press the issue any further. She trusted his judgement more than anyone else's that she knew so if he was sure that this was best then she was inclined to agree.

'How are they getting here?' she asked, genuinely curious as to why he did not just bring them himself.

'Hagrid is bringing them.'

'Do you think that's wise?' she asked, trying not to question his judgement but unable to stop herself. 'Trusting Hagrid with something as important as this?'

'I would trust Hagrid with my life.'

McGonagall opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by the purr of an engine. Normally this would not have stayed her tongue, but the sound was not coming from the end of the road. Nor were there any cars on the street around them. The noise was coming from above their heads.

Then, suddenly, the engine cut and a huge motorcycle fell out of the sky onto the road in front of them. The bike was a deep blue in colour, but at times it almost seemed black as to blend in with the night's sky. And if the bike was huge, then the man sitting astride it was monstrous. He was almost twice as tall as any normal man, and at least three times as wide. He looked simply too big to be human. He had a large bushy black beard, which matched his hair in colour and style. And although his beard covered most of his face, two bright beady eyes could still be seen beneath the mop of hair. In his arms, he carried two large bundled blankets that seemed to both fit in one of his hands.

'Hagrid' Dumbledore greeted, smiling at the giant man. 'At last. Where did you get the motorbike?'

'Borrowed it.' Hagrid said his voice rough and husky. 'Young Sirius Black leant it to me.'

'No problems I trust Hagrid?' Dumbledore asked, taking one of the two bundles from him.

'No sir – the house was almost destroyed though, but we got them out alright. Little Harry fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol, and Bella followed not too soon after.' Dumbledore looked down at the bundle in his arms, and noticed the lightning scar that now sat on Bella's forehead. He handed her off to Professor McGonagall before taking Harry off of Hagrid so he could remove himself from the bike.

Professor McGonagall gasped when she looked down at Bella and what lay beneath the light brown tuft of hair on her forehead. 'Is that where…' McGonagall trailed off knowing that they would understand.

'Yes', Dumbledore said. 'They will have those scars forever.

'Can't you do something about them Dumbledore?' she said, thinking of how it would alienate them even further.

'Even if I could, I wouldn't.' Dumbledore said, gazing down at Harry. 'I've found that scars can be very useful. I myself have one above my left knee that is an exact replica of the London Underground.' Dumbledore turned towards the Dursley's house and started to walk towards it. McGonagall trailed behind with Bella, and Hagrid followed not too far behind that.

'Could I say goodbye sir?' Hagrid asked, his voice shaking. Dumbledore nodded and Hagrid bent over to kiss Harry on the forehead. He let out a sound like a wounded dog, and by the time he made it to Bella, he was openly sobbing.

'Shhh', McGonagall hushed him sharply, despite the fact that she had been loud enough to wake the Muggles on more than one occasion.

'I can't' Hagrid sobbed, his voice shacking and stuttering. He used one of his dustbin lid sized hands to cover his mouth, muffling his sobs.

'It's very sad I know' Dumbledore said calmingly, before laying Harry down on the doorstep. He turned and took Bella off of Professor McGonagall and laid her down next to her brother.

McGonagall took hold of Hagrid's arm them and all but dragged him back onto the main road. They could still see Dumbledore as he fished the letter out of his pocket and lay it down next to the two small infants. He returned to the others, and for a full minute the three of them watched the two children sound asleep on the front porch.

'Well, that's it done then.' Dumbledore said, knowing that they all needed to leave before the sun rose. 'We have no business being here any longer.'

Hagrid nodded in agreement. 'I'd best be returning this bike. G'night Professor Dumbledore sir, Professor McGonagall.' Hagrid blew his nose loudly into a tissue and shoved it up one of his enormous sleeves before climbing back onto the bike. As he took off into the night, Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall.

'I expect I'll be seeing you soon, Professor McGonagall.' He smiled at her but unlike earlier in the evening, it didn't reach his eyes.

Dumbledore walked back down the street, and brought out the silver lighter once more. He clicked it once, and all the lights returned to each streetlamp. The whole street became illuminated in an orange glow. On the corner he had arrived on, he stopped and looked back down the street to see a tabby cat slinking away around a corner on the other end of the street. He could still see the blankets on the porch of number four, and then with a flick of his wrist he was gone.

Harry turned towards his sister in his sleep, not knowing that the both of them would be woken up the next morning by their aunt's screams as she put out the milk bottles. Neither knew that at that very moment people were praying and drinking to their names, celebrating and calling them – the ones who lived!