Disclaimer- I consulted very closely with the first chapter of philosopher's stone while writing this, and tried to keep the spirit of the original in this alternate world by directly using several phrases/short sections. This is not intended as stealing or copyright infringement, etc. All of JK's words/ideas/characters belong to her, and I cannot hope to improve them. It's meant as a tip of the hat to the wonderful original, not thievery.

A/N- I know Evans is Petunia's maiden name. I didn't want to use Dursley, and it didn't feel right putting in a random surname, so I stuck with Evans. Maybe her husband had an awful surname, so they both took hers, I don't know. Make of it what what you will, and apologies for any confusion.

'What a dull, grey Tuesday,' Petunia Evans sighed as she opened the bedroom curtains, then added to her husband, 'Come on, dear. You don't want to be late for work.'

Vincent Evans grumbled into his pillow.

'I'll go wake the baby, then,' she said, bemused.

He was out of bed in seconds- he always woke the baby before he went to work. He kissed his wife on his way past with a grin, and she made her way downstairs to start breakfast.

She had set a plate piled with toast, jams, honey and a big pot of tea on the table by the time he brought little David downstairs. Vincent bounced his son in his arms a few time and even threw him in the air- making Petunia squeal- and caught him before settling the happily burbling baby into his high chair at the table.

He ate a hurried piece of toast and marmalade, got dressed and popped back into the kitchen to hug Petunia and David goodbye. Ten minutes late, he unlocked his bike and wheeled it out onto the pavement.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Evans didn't realise what he had seen- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. Yet he had been certain he'd seen one. Mr Evans blinked, then nodded good morning to the cat- it can never hurt to be polite. It stared back. As Mr Evans pedalled around the corner and up the road he glanced back at the cat over his shoulder. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive. He smiled to himself. It couldn't be that bad a day if there were cats reading maps or signs.

On his way towards the bookshop where he worked he was intrigued by the sight of many strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. There was a huddle standing close by, and they were whispering excitedly together.

They reminded Mr Evans suddenly of his sister-in-law's wedding- undoubtedly the oddest thing he had ever experienced. There had been lots of people in peculiar clothes there, cloaks among them.

That had him thinking about James and Lily the rest of the way to the bookshop. The Evans's and the Potters had used to meet up very often- Vincent and Petunia had helped them move into their new house not so long ago. The place had a strange name, he seems to remember... God's Hollow? No- but something similar. He hoped David and their little son Harry would become friends.

They hadn't seen the Potters for some time now, but he knew better than to ask. Petunia had made it clear to him they had a secret, and that the innumerable strange things that happened when they were around were connected with it, and that it was best if he just didn't ask.

This didn't bother Vincent Evans in the slightest. However, he had got the impression something bad was happening on the Potters' side of things, and perhaps these strangely dressed people about had something to do with it. They all seemed delighted, however, which couldn't be a bad sign.

The rest of his day was relatively uneventful- he was late for work, but the manager was busy rearranging the books in their biology and botany section alphabetically in order of their first word, and she didn't seem to mind. He helped her between trying to assist customers whose temperaments ranged between bemused and extremely irate. They had reached 'cunicular' by closing time.

After waving her and the piles of jumbled books goodbye for the evening, he cycled off homewards. There were still many cloaked people in the streets, and he noticed several owls fly overhead.

He was rather enjoying himself when suddenly he caught a few words as he cycled past a huddle of the strangely dressed figures.

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

'-yes, their son, Harry-'

Curiosity flooded him, but he didn't stop to ask- better to go home and talk to Petunia first, she was sure to know. It could be a coincidence, he thought as he pedalled along, Potter wasn't an uncommon name, and neither was Harry. It seemed too much to be chance, though, considering he had been thinking of them only that morning.

As he cycled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning- it had the same markings around the eyes.

'Good afternoon,' he said to it. The air of strangeness was infectious, and there was something different about that cat, he was sure of it. 'Would you like to come in?' He asked it as he opened the front door. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.

'Alright, suit yourself,' he told it, and went into the house.

Petunia was reading to David from an old copy of the Hobbit- though admittedly more for her enjoyment than his- in the living room.

'I'm home,' he called, then popped his head around the door. 'Did you know there's a cat sitting outside our door? It seemed to want something, and I'm convinced I saw it reading a map earlier.'

Petunia looked up from the book, hope a light in her eyes.

'Maybe there's news from Lily,' she said.

'There were a lot of people in cloaks about today,' he agreed. 'Reminded me of her wedding. I also thought I heard some of them mention Potters, and a son named Harry.'

She jumped up.

'Something must have happened!' she exclaimed, excited, then began to wring her hands, 'Oh, but they don't have phones. Post is the fastest way to reach them and she told me they wouldn't be accessible, that they'd have to contact us.'

They were both distracted from that as David began to whimper, upset by the worry in his mother's voice. When they had soothed him and Vincent was cradling the baby in his arms, they shared a kiss.

'I'm sure they'll get in touch soon.' He tried to assure his wife, 'All the people I saw out and about today looked overjoyed. It can't be anything bad.'

Petunia nodded, but still looked worried.

'Did you say there was a cat outside?' she asked, suddenly remembering.

She went to check, but there was nothing there.

'Maybe I was imagining things,' he said apologetically. 'Today has been a strange day.'

She took David up for his bath, leaving Vincent to start preparing dinner. He was just starting to boil the pasta when there came a tapping on the window. Surprised, he looked around, and saw the source of the noise- an owl was sitting on the windowsill, looking at him expectantly through the glass.

This was not the first time such a visitor had arrived, so he opened the window and let the bird in. A letter was tied to its leg, which he took. The owl seemed to expect nothing more, and flew off. Vincent shut the window and took a closer look at the letter.

The envelope was made of thick, creamy paper, sealed with a blob of wax. On the front was the address: 'Petunia Evans, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'.

It looked distinctly Potters-like, and he considered taking it up to Petunia right away, but decided against it. Better to let her finish the bath.

He gave her the letter as soon as she came downstairs with the baby clean and in his pyjamas. He took David to his high chair and let her open it, which she did with something like fear- had things really been that bad for her sister?

As she read, Petunia's face remained frozen, but Vincent saw the tears form, shining, in her eyes. He went to her silently, and she set down the letter, stood and embraced him. He felt her sob as he hugged her tightly, and over her shoulder read the letter that was now lying open on the table.

'Petunia, I am deeply saddened to have to inform you that your sister, Lily Potter and her husband, James Potter, were murdered last night by a man you may have been told of, known as Lord Voldemort. I have no doubt you were aware of the danger they were in. Rest assured that he is now dead. As much as I loathe to intrude upon your home at this time of sadness for you, there is something else that needs to be discussed in person. I will be arriving at number four at seven o'clock this evening. My apologies if this is inconvenient for you, but it cannot be delayed. With condolences, Albus Dumbledore.'

Vincent felt tears in his own eyes. Lily and James- murdered? He knew nothing of a Lord Voldemort, but something in the name sent ice down his neck.

'What time is it?' Petunia asked suddenly, breaking from the hug. Her face was streaked with tears. 'Almost seven- they'll be here any minute.' She looked at her husband for a moment. 'I should explain, properly. Lily and James- they were wizards.'

'What?' Vincent asked, dazed. 'Magicians? As a job? I don't-'

'No, I mean, they could use magic. They were the genuine article. That's why Lily went off to that special school when she was eleven. She was a witch.'

Vincent nodded slowly.

'It's crazy, but I think I believe you... I- I knew them well enough to believe you.'

Petunia looked immeasurably grateful.

'Well, there's this man- if you could call him that any more. A dark wizard, and an evil, evil creature. That's why Lily and James went into hiding- they were hiding from him.'

'...But he found them.' Vincent finished, understanding.

Petunia nodded, fresh tears starting up.

Then there was a knock on the door, making her jump. Quickly she wiped her eyes and headed for the door.

'Keep an eye on David,' she called back.

She opened the door to reveal a man: tall, thin and very old. He was wearing a purple cloak and half moon spectacles, and his beard was tucked into his belt.

'Professor Dumbledore,' she greeted him, motioning him inside.

'Petunia,' he returned, stepping in and revealing a woman behind him. She was wearing a green cloak and her hair was tied back in a tight bun. 'May I also introduce you to my colleague, Minerva McGonagall.'

The women nodded to each other.

'I'm so sorry about your sister. It was a privilege to know her and her husband.' The severe looking woman told her sadly.

Petunia nodded acknowledgment.

'Come in,' she told them, 'Come to the kitchen. I hope you don't mind my husband and the baby.'

'Your husband...?' Dumbledore trailed off, making it a question about how much he knew.

'He knows enough,' she replied, a touch offended. 'We Muggles aren't actually stupid, you know. Some of us can keep our noses out of business we don't belong in.'

'I do not doubt you,' Dumbledore replied seriously, soothing her. 'I should have known better than to ask.'

She gave another nod, of forgiveness this time, and led the two professors into the kitchen.

'Firstly,' Dumbledore said gravely when they were seated, 'I want you to know what a great service Lily's sacrifice has done the wizarding world. Her death has saved us all from a very great threat and fear. The non magical world may never know of it, but she and James are heroes.'

Petunia nodded.

'I understand. She and James were the best people-' she choked slightly and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Minerva patted her shoulder comfortingly.

'They were the best of us,' she agreed.

'Now, there is one other matter-' Dumbledore began.

'Harry,' she said immediately.

He nodded solemnly.

'I want him to stay with you,' he told her.

Petunia's eyes widened.

'But, I thought he had a godfather? Shouldn't he go with someone who has magic, who can understand him?' An old sadness, a sadness she'd had since her sister turned eleven, was in her eyes.

Dumbledore shook his head.

'I believe it would be best for him to grow up away from the wizarding world. He'll be famous, you see. He was the one who killed Voldemort.'

'What?' she asked, confused. 'He's only a tiny baby! The way Lily talked about this Voldemort, he was the most powerful wizard alive!'

'You are right, Petunia, but that is the truth. Harry Potter destroyed Lord Voldemort. How, I do not know, but what matters is that the boy should grow up as normally as possible. I know you will be sensitive and understanding to any magical matters that may arise, but that you will also keep him safe from fame- and from the remainder of Voldermort's followers- for as long as possible. Will you do it?'

'Of course!' she said immediately. 'Of course I will.' Suddenly remembering her husband, she looked across at him. 'We will, won't we?'

He smiled sadly.

'Of course. Any help we can give, we'll give without hesitation.'

'We love him already- I only worry we can't give him the support he needs. I remember things started happening to Lily, even before she got the letter. What if I can't help him?' She explained, worry showing in her face.

'I have watched you for only a day, and I can see you are perfectly capable of giving him what he needs,' Minerva reassured her. 'Please don't take this as patronising, but you are the very best sort of Muggles.'

'I trust you implicitly, Petunia,' Dumbledore added, 'And besides, there's magic in your blood. Who knows what could happen?' He peered over his half moon spectacles at the baby Vincent was cradling in his arms.

'You don't mean-' Petunia began.

'Now that would be telling,' Dumbledore cut her off, eyes twinkling.

She managed a weak smile.

'Where is Harry?' She asked, suddenly worried again. 'Is he alright?'

'Quite safe,' Dumbledore assured her. 'Someone is bringing him over.' He tipped his head the side very slightly. 'In fact, I do believe he may be here now.'

There was the faint sound of an engine outside, and all four hurried out into the road. Sure enough, from the sky there flew a motorbike which set down with a series of juddering thumps and skidded to a stop just in front of them. The man driving the bike was huge.

David began to cry, but Vincent shushed him and he began to doze off.

The man climbed off the bike, shaking his wild black hair out of his face and clutching a cloth bundle in two huge, surprisingly gentle hands.

'Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, 'There you are. No problems, I assume?'

'No sir. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'

'Give him to Mrs Evans, if you will, Hagrid.' Dumbledore asked politely.

The giant of a man looked around, as if just noticing the small, scared looking woman.

'Here you go, ma'am. You take good care of him, now.' He said, handing the bundle over carefully.

Petunia nodded solemnly, eyes wide. She clutched Harry to her chest and stared up at the big man, surprised to see a huge, fat tear slide down his cheeks.

'Could I just say goodbye?' He asked, dabbing at his eyes with a huge spotted handkerchief he had pulled from his coat.

Petunia raised the bundle up so Hagrid could give Harry a scratchy, whiskery kiss, then jumped as he suddenly let out a howl like a wounded dog.

'Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall. 'You'll wake the Muggles!'

'S-s-sorry,' sobbed Hagrid.

Petunia patted his arm timidly.

'We'll make sure we visit,' she told him, in a small voice. 'Or you can visit us, if you prefer. So you can see Harry.'

Hagrid nodded, blowing his nose noisily into his handkerchief.

'Well, I'd best get this bike away,' he said, 'G'night.'

Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

In the silence of the cold night air, Petunia pulled back the cloth wrappings carefully to take a good look at Harry. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead she could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

'Is that where-?' she whispered.

'Yes,' Dumbledore answered. 'He'll have that scar forever.'

Petunia kissed his forehead gently, and moved to stand in front of her husband.

'Look David,' he said gently, turning him so he could see Harry, 'Here's your new brother.'

He reached out a tiny arm, touching Harry's face with his chubby little fingers. Petunia and Vincent looked at each other and smiled.

Behind them, Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a glance.

'I think we shall be going,' he told the couple. They turned. 'Do please visit, and if you need anything, just send me a letter. You know how.'

Petunia nodded and the Evans's went back into the house, and the Professors disappeared from the street with a crack.

Across the country a secret world rejoiced, and in a nondescript house in Surrey the boy who had caused it all got a new home.

A/N- I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, let me know. If you didn't, let me know. But please, don't pick me up on my British spelling if you're used to American (cause heck knows my internet browser is trying to correct me as I type this).

I apologise if someone has done this before. I know it's probably not an original idea, but I haven't yet read it somewhere else.