Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Stargate or Star Wars (if I get to it). I make no money from this. (If it did, it would not be here)

AN: This story is almost completely AU.

AN2: THIS IS AN INTEGRATED AND I HAVE FANFICTION ERLABNIS OF Goddess Vampire. The story belongs to her only from Chapter 1 and I have some edited and Prolog has been partly taken over from the Harry Potter Band 1 in part and the rest is me.

AN4: I'm from Germany and I can not English so I have this crossover only translated in German (which was written by Goddess Vampire) and edited and then translated back into English. But this does not matter because when you see this, this crossover is already finished writing. Beta searched for German and English.

The original can be found here: s/8361216/1/Gate-Child

Prologue: The Boy who lived

In England, the Count stem Surrey, in the small town Little Whining, Privet Drive 4 lived Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and were proud to be entirely normal. No one would get the idea that they could get caught up in a strange and mysterious story, because such things they wanted to have nothing to do.

Mr. Dursley was large and thick, and had almost no neck, but a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had twice as much neck as might have been necessary, but this was very useful, because it could stretch his neck over the fence and over peeking at the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley. In her eyes, there was no more splendid boy.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had some secret, and that she might discover someone who was their main concern. Simply unbearable, if the thing would come out with the Potters would. Mrs. Potter was the alleged sister of Mrs. Dursley.

Here Lily Potter formerly Evans had been adopted and since only the name Lily was known of her name Evans was given and made it publicly legally as if she was a born Evans. Mr. Dursley own secrets, he wanted to keep hidden, because on the one hand was the Dursleys' house the Potters. He paid every month good 310 pounds rent to them. Allen claiming that the house was his.

The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, but they had never seen. Even this boy was a good reason to stay away from the Potters, because with such a child you should not come into contact Dudley.

Mr. Dursley director who Grunnings in London, the drills and kitchen equipment was manufactured. However, he was also feared in the British mafia and no one within the Mafia knew his true name. Everyone called him the dead fat. For all his enemies died faster than mayflies.

He was feared in the underworld, so that no more he only dared to speak aloud and knew him only as the executioner of the devil.

However Grunnings he used for his illegal source of money to camouflage. He established drugs and sold them to dealers and to those who who used drugs themselves. Mr. Dursley used the profit of the company, by half the profits to his favor, without anyone noticed. Regularly in the year he had a new company car.

His family, he bought everything about the company money, but has also been in many illegal activities and then he zwackte money he funds the company without anybody noticed just from. He belonged to the boss of the store and his wife well 20% of the company and her sister about 50%, which, however, had never interfered in affairs of the company.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley on this gloomy and gray Tuesday, 11.03.1981, eyes pitched in 4 Privet Drive everything was in perfect order. Your normal and healthy world still okay. Mr. Dursley hummed, looking for work, a black tie, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped cheerfully to herself, as she jockeyed with the screaming Dudley and squeezed him in his high chair.

Then he went outside. He sat in the car and drove back the entrance to number 4 addition. On the outskirts of London him strangely dressed fell for the first time a lot, in long and wide cloaks, people were traveling on. He was again determined in the usual morning traffic jam.

Mr. Dursley could not bear people who were dressing funny. That probably had to be some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a collection of these remarkable figures not far from him. The line of cars moved, and a few minutes later Mr. Dursley drove into the parking lot of his company, the thoughts again in drills.

In his office on the ninth floor Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window. Mr. Dursley spent an ordinary morning. He made fifteen different people to screw. He led several important telephone calls and shouted while still a little louder. By lunchtime he had high spirits and now wanted a little stretch their legs and get a donut at the bakery across the street.

The people in the strange appearance he had long forgotten, but now, on the way to the bakery, he met some of these figures. In passing, he gave them angry glances. He did not know why, but it caused him discomfort. Also this pack here whispering excitedly, and a collection box was nowhere in sight. On the way back from the bakery, a bag with a large and chocolate donut in hand, he grabbed a few words from them.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. Fear overcame him. He turned to the whispering, as if he wanted to tell them something, but then thought better of it. He quickly ran up to the office, snapped at his secretary that he would not be disturbed, reached for the phone and had already half selected the number of home when he changed his mind. He put the phone down and stroked his mustache. No, he thought, I'm stupid. Potter was not a particularly unusual name. Sure there were a lot of people who were called Potter and had a son named Harry. Now that he thought about it, he was not even sure his nephew was called Harry really. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley, they became more and so upset if you even mentioned her sister.

That afternoon, he found it more difficult to some, to keep his mind on business. He muffed also by some major orders. When he left the office at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he equal collided at the first step out with his secretary. "Sorry," he grumbled, as the woman came stumbled and fell. "Today I forgive everything, my dear boss. Because today can me anything derail! Let us rejoice, because I have won the lottery! «

His secretary had not noticed that her lottery ticket had fallen on the floor and went to her car and drove home, where they had arrived never. She had a car accident resulting in death.

Mr. Dursley took the lottery ticket and took him to the nearest lottery agency. There he gave the appearance and became one of the lucky winners of the Lotto Jack Potts. Whether there would be more winners, to be announced for another two weeks.

Then he hurried to his car and drove home. As he turned into the driveway of number 4, the first thing his eyes fell and did not improve his mood just to the tabby cat that he had bugged for quite some time. He has always had a bad feeling about all abnormal things. She sat down on his garden wall.

Mr. Dursley hissed loudly, but the cat did not move. You just looked at him, giving him time and again an even worse feeling. Was such a thing as normal for cats, wondered Mr. Dursley. He tried to pull himself together and opened the front door. Still he was determined to say nothing of all this his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had a nice, ordinary day behind. At dinner she told him all about the problems of neighbors with their daughter and that Dudley had learned a new word. Mr. Dursley tried quite as always to give and reported the lottery win his wife and how it had happened, he failed better. Then he brought Dudley to bed and then went into the living room, where he Latest watched the evening news.

"And here is a message. How ornithologists report, our owls have behaved very unusual. Although owls normally hunt at night and daytime hardly be seen, these birds have been observed since sunrise thousands of times, as all countries were flying back and forth across. The experts can not explain why the owls have suddenly changed their habits. "The newscaster grinned. "And now to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Are more owls showers expected, Jim? "

"Well, Ted," the weatherman, "said I can not say, but it's not only the owls that have now behave strangely. Viewers from as far away areas such as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have called me today and reported that all showers are descended from falling stars instead of the rain I promised yesterday! The But I can promise you a clear night for today. «

Mr. Dursley sat stiff as an icicle in his chair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls that flew in the day? Everywhere mysterious people in strange clothes and a whisper, about the Potters.

Mrs. Dursley came back with two cups of tea in the living room. There was no point. He had to tell her something. He nervously cleared his throat. "Um Petunia dear, you have not heard lately from your sister, right? "As he had feared, looked at him in horror and Mrs. Dursley furiously. Finally, they did usually as if they had no sister.

"No. Why? "She said sharply. »Funny stuff in the news - the day are active Owls ... shooting stars and today a lot of funny-looking people in town ..." murmured Mr. Dursley. "And?" Snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought maybe it has to do something to do with, you know."

Mrs. Dursley sipped with pursed lips at her tea. "She has son Derun dangerous in Dudley's age would be, right?" He asked. "I suppose," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. Mr. Dursley slipped the heart into his pants. Until it was time to sleep, and they went upstairs, he lost not a word about it. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley opened the bedroom and went to sleep ready for.

The Dursleys went to bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly one, but Mr. Dursley lay awake and rolled all over again in the head back and forth. Before he fell asleep, it was a last, comforting thought. Even if the Potters had really to do with this story, there was no reason why they should appear with him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia of them and their ilk considered He could not think how he and Petunia should get into anything out there in front of him, he went yawned and turned on its side so that he and his women certainly have nothing to do.

Mr. Dursley might have slipped into a restless sleep over, but the cat outside on the wall showed no trace of fatigue. She sat still as a statue, blinking his eyes without looking at the distant corner of Privet Drive addressed. No hairs stirred when a road was further slammed a car door or two away owl fluttered over her head. In fact, it was midnight when the cat touched for the first time.

At the corner that they had observed a man appeared so suddenly and silently, as if he had grown straight from the ground. twitched Cat's tail and her eyes narrowed.

A man like this had never liked to see at Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, at least close to the silver color of his hair and beard to, both of which were so long that they stuck in his belt.
In his right hand he carried a wicker basket. He was wearing a long robe, a purple cloak, and buckle boots with high heels. His blue eyes shone sparkling behind half-moon glasses out, and his nose was very long and crooked, as if it had broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore did not seem to notice that he had just appeared in a street where everything about him was not welcome. Lost in thought, he rummaged through the pockets of his robes and stood in front of the wicker basket in which his new magical ward, named Harry James Potter. But apparently he noticed that he was being watched, because he suddenly looked at the cat over, still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason the cat's vision seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

In his pocket he had found what he sought. It looked like a silver cigarette lighter. He flipped open the lid, held it up in the air and let it snap. With a soft "plop" all street lamp went out nearby. Until the only lights that could be seen all over the road yet, two small pinheads in the distance were, and that was the cat that it Beobachtetef eyes. No one who could now out the window, not the sharp-eyed Mrs. Dursley, anything would now noticed from what happened on the sidewalk below. Dumbledore left the Deilluminator in the robe pocket sliding, he took the wicker basket au and made his way along the road to number 4, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He did not look at, but after a while he spoke to her.
"What a surprise to see you here, Professor McGonagall."
With a smile he turned to the side, but the tiger cat had disappeared. In their place, he smiled at a pretty serious-looking woman with spectacles whose glasses were square. She also wore a cloak, an emerald green. Her black hair was tied back in a tight bun. She looked quite confused.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"They would also be stiff if you'd been sitting all day on a brick wall," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? Where You could have to celebrate? I have to be passed on the way to at least a dozen feasts and parties. "

"Oh, yes, the whole world is celebrating, beautiful," she said impatiently. "You'd think they could be a bit more careful, but no -. Even the Muggles have noticed that something is going on" with a head jerking she pointed to the dark living room window of the Dursleys. "I heard it. Swarms of owls shooting stars Well, quite stupid, they are not again. You just had to notice anything. Shooting stars down in Kent. "

"You can not blame them, lf years we have had to celebrate precious little," said Dumbledore gently.

"I know that. But that's no reason to lose your head. The people are just careless when in broad daylight hang around outside on the streets and give the best gossip. At least they could attract Muggle stuff. "Said Professor McGonagall irritably.

They turned to penetratingly Dumbledore, as they hoped he would tell her something. But he said nothing, and she continued: "That would be a fine mess if calculated on the day that You-Know-Who finally disappears, the Muggles all would find out about us. I suppose he's really gone, Dumbledore? "

"It certainly looks from," said Dumbledore. "We have to be grateful for many things. Want an effervescent candy? "

"A what?"
"A lemon effervescent candy. A Nascherei muggle, to which I am quite sharp. "

"No, thanks," Professor McGonagall said coolly, as if not now is the right moment for sherbet lemons. "Like I said, even if You-Know-Who is really gone -"

"My dear Professor, a reasonable person as you can it surely name them? The whole nonsense with You-Know-Who - for eleven years I try to get people to call him by his real name:. Voldemort "Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, two more sweets from the bag fished , seemed to take no notice of it. "It confused but only if we constantly You-Know-Who say. I've never seen why I should have fear of pronouncing Voldemort "

"I know that well," Professor McGonagall said, half applied, half in admiration. "But you're different. We all know that you are the only one You-Know-ahm, well, Voldemort feared. "

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore quietly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Just because you - yes - are noble to use them."

"Lucky that it is dark. So red I am no longer become, since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs. "

Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore sharply and said, "The owls are nothing compared to the gossip flying around. Why did he disappear? What has finally stopped him? "

Apparently Professor McGonagall had reached the point on which she wanted to talk, the real reason why she had waited all day on a cold, hard wall, because neither a cat nor as a woman she had Dumbledore with such a piercing gaze nailed such now. They Whatever "liked all" say obviously she did not believe it until they had heard it from the mouth of Dumbledore.

"What they say," urged on, "is in fact that last night Voldemort in Godric appeared s Hollow. He was looking for the Potters. According to the rumor are Lily and James Potter - they're ... dead. "

Dumbledore slowly lowered his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James I can not believe I did not believe it Oh, Albus ..."

Dumbledore held out his hand and patted her gently on the shoulder. "I know I know ..." he said huskily.

Professor McGonagall continued in a trembling voice: "That's not all. It is said that he tried to kill Harry Potter's son. But he could not. He could not kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but it is, as he could not kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power fell in on itself and that is gone. "

"Is that -? True," stammered Professor McGonagall. "After all, what he has done. After all the people he killed. Could he not kill a little boy? This is unbelievable just that puts an end to it but what in heaven's name Harry could survive that? "

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore, although he knew very well why. "Maybe we'll never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes under the glasses. Dumbledore pulled a gold watch from his pocket and gave a long sniff of it. Dumbledore said, "I suppose Hagrid told you that I would come here?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I do not suppose you'll tell me why you are here of all places?" Asked Minerva McGonagall. "I have come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They are the only ones in the family who are still left to him. "Albus Dumbledore replied.

"You do not mean - you simply can not people think that live here," cried Professor McGonagall, jumping up and pointing at number 4. "Dumbledore, you can not. I watched for days. You could not find two people who resemble us less. "Minerva said.

"This is the best place for him," Dumbledore said firmly. "Uncle and Aunt will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I wrote them a letter. «

"A letter?" Repeated Professor McGonagall with stifling voice and sat down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He will be famous - a legend - I would not be surprised if this day in future Harry Potter day's - entire books you will write Harry - every child in the world will know his name "

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the crescents of his reading glasses. "That would be enough to twist any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something that he will not even remember! Do not you see how much better it would be for him when he grows up far away from all that until he is ready to grasp it? "

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and said, "Yes, you are right, of course. But how does the boy here, Dumbledore? "Suddenly she looked at his cloak as she thought maybe he was hiding little Harry among them and only now she noticed the wicker basket on.

Professor McGonagall bowed her head over the sheet bundle. Inside was just to see just a little boy, hardly more than a baby, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair on his forehead they could see a scar that looked like lightning.

"Is that where -?" Whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "Can not you do something about it, Dumbledore?" Asked Minerva. "Even if I could, I would not. Scars can be quite useful. I myself have an above the left knee, and is a flawless plan of the London Underground. Well - give it to me, Hagrid - we bring it better now behind us. "

Dumbledore turned to the Dursleys' house and climbed over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He gently put Harry to the front door, took a letter from the cloak, tucked it between Harry's sheets and then returned to Professor McGonagall. A full minute stood the two and looked at the little bundle. Professor McGonagall blinked rapidly, and the sparkling light that always seemed otherwise from Dumbledore's eyes was probably extinct.

"Well," Dumbledore finally said, "that 's We have nothing more to seek. We had better disappear and go to parties. "

"We will meet again soon, I suspect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. In reply to Professor McGonagall blew her nose. Dumbledore turned and walked away down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the Deilluminator. He turned once, and twelve balls of light darted back to their street lamps. All of a sudden the Privet Drive glowed orange, and he could see a small tiger cat, the dot at the other end of the road around the corner. On the doorstep of number 4, he could just see the bundle of bedsheets.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and off with a wave of his cloak, he was gone. No one noticed his dark smile. His plan worked one-way free. No one would question him the next Merlin and no one would ever find out in which flimsy things he was involved, he thought.

In the shadow of even those lurking who knew what had happened, but would not intervene directly. Until something would happen and then make Albus Dumbledore either message or to make it for all what happened here guilty. After Dumbledore the baby leave at the door 12 passersby came over, which nearly took it, Dumbledore's guard would not have been there. The all under Verwirrzauber sat.

A breeze ruffled the carefully clipped hedges of Privet Drive, the quiet and neat lay under the ink-colored sky, and never would we have thought that something might happen unheard. In his bedsheets Harry Potter turned to the side, without waking. His little fingers clung to the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing that in a few hours, when Mrs. Dursley would open the front door , a cry would wake him. Albus Dumbledore, it now had no idea, but he had that day done his biggest mistake in his life.

PS: I have no timetable as I continue to lead this story ... I have but by Godness vampires already 3 Chapter I will change ... Well I have used the first chapter of Harry Potter and the existence of the ways and my misdeeds abused XD