Author's Note: This will be a retelling of the story of Harry Potter, and as such will likely be a long fic, quite possibly split into seven parts. This is an introduction of sorts, and will start to track with the original story in the next chapter. Thank you for reading, and please leave a review!


Emma leaned with her back flush against the wall, her head turned slightly toward the doorway. She could see a sliver of Albus Dumbledore's impressive office from her hidden vantage point, and as she listened, she could hear two very familiar voices; Albus himself and Rubeus Hagrid, who was not only the gamekeeper at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but also one of the people who had raised her.

"Hagrid, I need you to do something for me," Albus was saying. Emma had been told to go to her room, so naturally she'd been curious as to what this little meeting was about. Despite being Albus Dumbledore's adopted daughter, Emma had a mischievous streak.

"What d'you need, Headmaster?" Hagrid asked immediately, and Emma smiled slightly to herself at his willingness.

"I need you to go and get Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied quietly, almost too quietly for Emma to hear. Nevertheless, she heard, and her curiosity was piqued instantly. She'd heard of Harry Potter growing up in the magical world; the boy who lived, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord even though he was only a year old. Emma recalled wondering about him when she was younger; what had happened to him, after all? She supposed she was curious because they shared the same last name.
"Get him?" Hagrid repeated, a note of confusion in his tone.

"Yes, get him," Albus told him again. He sighed, and Emma could detect his worry. "I've been sending out his letter all week. Yet, it seems that none of them have reached him with his aunt and uncle, unfortunately."

"Why's that?" Hagrid asked inquisitively. Emma heard Albus sigh again.

"I foresaw this being a problem," he admitted. "As much as I was hoping that it wouldn't be. His relatives are not very keen on the idea of Harry's abilities. It seems we have no other choice but to send someone after him."

"But...me?" Hagrid asked, sounding bewildered. Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Yes, Hagrid," he replied patiently. "I think you, in fact, are the only person I would trust with Harry Potter."

"Does Emma know?" Hagrid asked, his voice slightly hushed, as if perhaps he suspected Emma would be lurking nearby. Her blood ran cold.

"Does Emma know what?" she thought. What was it that she wasn't supposed to know? Her thoughts were racing; she couldn't help but wonder what Harry Potter had to do with her, and leaned in closer to the stone doorway, straining to hear the response. Albus sighed heavily, and she glanced over to find his silhouette in the window, the familiar long white beard catching the morning light from the grounds of Hogwarts.

"No," he said. "I've kept Harry's identity from Emma all her life; she'll find out soon enough, as will he. Should she come up in conversation when you're with the boy," he continued, turning back to face Hagrid, "that wouldn't be the worst thing."

Hagrid nodded his large head, seemingly in understanding of what Dumbledore was implying. Emma leaned against the wall as the conversation between them turned to a package Dumbledore needed Hagrid to pick up while he was in London with Harry Potter.

She sighed slightly to herself, wondering idly if she had picked up that habit from living with Dumbledore since she was a baby. He certainly seemed to sigh a lot, more and more often as of late. She wondered again what Harry Potter had to do with her, and why Albus would have kept it from her for so long. As the two of them continued to discuss various topics, Emma internally lamented the fact that she couldn't ask Albus about Harry Potter; if she did, he would know she had been listening in on a conversation she had specifically been told not to. Albus would be disappointed in her, and she hated that feeling. Besides, it would ruin her future chances to be sneaky. She'd perfected the tactic of hiding in various corners and listening in on conversations; she'd never had friends her own age, and when she wasn't trailing around after Hagrid learning everything she could about the magical creatures he knew so well, she was creeping around her castle home, listening close and fading into the background.

After Hagrid left, Emma waited a few minutes and then she pushed off the wall, letting her feet carry her down the spiraling stone steps to Albus' main office. He looked up from his desk, smiling a little bit at her.

"Where are you off to this morning?" he asked her. She forced a smile, trying to put Harry Potter out of her mind to no avail.

"I just thought I would wander about for a bit," she said off-handedly, turning quickly to leave the office. At the moment, she didn't particularly want to spend any longer around Albus than she had to. Her feet wandered the corridors of the castle she had called home for as long as she could remember. It was nearly muscle memory by now; the layout was so familiar to her that she barely even noticed where she was going until she got there. She found herself standing before a large painting of a fruit basket. Smiling a little bit to herself, she reached up, her slender hand hovering over the pear painted onto the canvas, using her fingers to tickle it. The portrait swung open and she climbed through to the kitchen, where she was immediately surrounded by house elves. She smiled; it was warm there, and it smelled like bread. The house-elves had been her friends all her life; here, she always felt welcome. Albus did his best, and she loved him. Yet, he'd been guarded with himself, and he was often busy; she didn't fault him for it, but she'd never felt as home with him as she'd always wished she could.

"Master Potter," they chorused excitedly. Emma shook her head, brushing her long dark hair behind her shoulder as she hopped onto the counter to sit, her legs swinging back and forth.

"How many times have I told you guys not to call me that?" she asked rhetorically. The house elves started to murmur apologies and Emma laughed.

"Eclair?" asked Pinkle, a slight house elf that had been at Hogwarts twice as long as Emma had been alive.

"Naturally," Emma sighed, reaching for the eclair with a smile.

"Something is bothering Master Emma?" Pinkle asked, awkwardly climbing up onto the counter to stand next to Emma, who nodded her head as she swallowed a bite of the pastry.

"Yes," she admitted. "It's a conversation I overheard between Albus and Hagrid," she told her.

Pinkle looked at her quizzically, and Emma took another bite of eclair before she continued, using her free hand to push her glasses up on her nose so that she could better see through the slightly smudged lenses.

"They were talking about Harry Potter," she confided. "I never thought he had anything to do with me, but…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

"Now Master Emma thinks something different?" Pinkle asked inquisitively. Emma nodded affirmatively again.

"Hagrid asked Albus if I knew, but he didn't really say what I'm supposed to have known." Frustration must have been evident in her voice, because Pinkle quickly handed Emma another chocolate eclair. Emma sighed, leaning back against the wall behind her as she continued to eat the pastry as if she hadn't even noticed that she'd finished the first one.

"I just wish someone would explain," she admitted.

"Perhaps Master Dumbledore will tell Master Emma later," Pinkle suggested, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yes, naturally- he'll tell me later. I just wish he would tell me now. Or," she added, "that he'd told me to begin with."

"Patience, Master Emma," Pinkle said wisely. "Everything will be alright in the end."

Emma offered the house elf a smile. Pinkle had always been rational, and it had proved helpful to Emma more times than she cared to admit.

"Thanks for the advice, Pink," she remarked, slipping nimbly off the counter and landing catlike on her feet. She offered a cheeky grin and added, "And the eclairs!"

Then, in a whirlwind of dark hair, Emma was gone as quickly as she had come. Pinkle shook her small head and returned to her work.