Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Ch 1: Musings

Petunia Evans loved her sister; let nobody ever dispute that fact. Petunia loved Lily and she knew that Lily loved her right back. That being said, Petunia had issues with her sister, namely that she was strange, very strange indeed. Since she was about seven, unusual things seemed to happen around her. God forbid anyone make her angry. Once Rodney Swanson was teasing her about her hair and the next day he woke up with no hair at all. What's more, he hadn't been able to grow any since.

Of course, weird things not only happened when Lily was angry. As she grew older, she developed the ability to do strange things whenever she wanted. These activities did not escape the notice of Petunia's parents. They did not really know what to think of the things that their youngest daughter could do. On one hand, they found her abilities amazing, on the other, they worried about her ability to live a normal life.

All of that aside, Petunia was excited about spending the following day with her sister. Her sister was now eleven years old and she would be attending Petunia's school in the fall. Petunia had taken it upon herself to do absolutely everything within her power to make sure that Lily's transition was as smooth as possible. Petunia had everything planned; she would teach her younger sister everything that she needed to know about succeeding in her new school. She would teach her how to deal with all of her teachers, what classes she should take, and what at people to talk to. Petunia was going to be Lily's mentor.

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Albus Dumbledore knew that people were staring at him, but he didn't mind. How could they not stare? It is highly unlikely that any of them had seen a person quite so peculiar looking before. Setting aside Dumbledore's clothing, which was peculiar in and of itself, Dumbledore himself gave off a distinct air of strangeness. Perhaps it was his enormous beard, perhaps it was the odd twinkle in his eye, but whenever people saw Dumbledore they knew that they were looking at a very strange person indeed.

On this particular day Dumbledore was lost in thought. He still had not decided exactly how he was going to complete the particular task to which he had set himself. It was, of course, a delicate situation. Werewolves were among the most feared and misunderstood creatures in the magical world. When it comes to ignorance, wizards are not much better than muggles. All humans tend to attack things that they do not understand. Therefore, werewolves needed to be very careful about whom they trust.

Now, Dumbledore usually did not have much trouble gaining people's trust. He was on very good terms with most of the witches and wizards in Great Britain, including young Remus' parents. Dumbledore had taught Robert and Elizabeth Lupin transfiguration when they were students at Hogwarts. That being said, they were protective of their son. Dumbledore knew that he would have to present a compelling case as to why they should trust him with Remus' wellbeing.

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Peter Pettigrew hated Mondays. Peter Pettigrew hated Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Peter Pettigrew had a general hatred for everything around him. It wasn't a hatred born out of anger or fear. It was a hatred born out of depression. Every day was the same. He would spend the entire day being made fun of by just about every person that he ran into. He would be made fun of by his siblings, by his neighbors, even sometimes by his parents.

Unlike all of the other children he knew, Peter took no joy in the fact that this was the summer of his eleventh year. He took no joy in the fact that in a matter of weeks he would get he same letter that all witches and wizards in Britain get in the summer of their eleventh year. He would get the letter informing him that he had been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Peter took no solace in his impending trip to Hogwarts because he knew what lay ahead of him, seven years of isolation and loneliness. So here he was lying in bed, facing another Monday.

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Regulus Black didn't understand his brother. He didn't understand why his brother hated their family so much. He should be proud of his family. The Black family was one of the oldest and most respected families in the wizarding world. Purebloods for centuries, at least one member of the black family had been present at every major event known to wizard kind. Sirius should be proud of his family. He should be proud of the fact the fact that his family has been in Slytherin, a house known for its skill and cunning, for as long as anyone could remember. Yet Sirius wasn't happy. Sirius spent his days locked up in his room thinking of ways annoy their parents. Regulus knew that as soon as Sirius went to Hogwarts he would do everything in his power to distance himself from his family. Why? Regulus simply did not understand his brother.

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Severus Snape loved to be outdoors, being outdoors meant escaping his parents. He hated being around his parents; they fought all of the time. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why his mother took it. She was a witch, she was powerful, why did she allow her muggle husband to push her around when all it would take to stop his was the flick of a wand? He wished that he knew how, he would do it himself if he knew how. One day he would know how.

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James Potter woke up one bright morning in June and crossed off another day on his calendar. Only a few weeks left until he would get his letter. He couldn't wait.