He owed it to James. And to Lily too. James had known for years about his being a werewolf, and not only did he remain his friend, but at just fifteen years old, he became an Animagus in order to keep him company during his transformations.

When Lily found out, she remained just as steadfastly his friend as any of the other three, and he felt certain that those four, those wonderful four would be with him forever, his best and truest friends in all the worlds.

But, when news reached Remus Lupin that the Potter's had been killed, their son somehow surviving the curse that had killed so many before him, his world began collapsing. He wanted instantly to step forward, to tell Dumbledore that he would take the boy in, but he knew that wasn't a possibility.

Later the next day when he heard of further devastation – his best friend, James' best friend, killed the last of their little gang, as well as twelve innocent Muggles in the middle of a crowded street – he couldn't take anymore.

Any ideas he'd had of raising Harry together with Sirius, and watching the boy grow up within the world he should always have been a part of, vanished.

It's all just as well, he told himself. How would he have cared for a child, when every month as the full moon rose he lost his head and transformed into a monster? Remus was certain Harry would be far safer with his Muggle relatives.

Dumbledore had sent her to watch the Muggles a few months before It happened. She didn't ask why but suspected that he believed them to be in danger.

If He Who Must Not Be Named was to approach Lily Potter's family, to demand information from them, there would be nothing she could do to save them, but she could of course send word to the Order.

When the patronus arrived to tell her that the Potter's were gone, Arabella Figg instantly wanted to put her hand up.

She loved her cats dearly, but they weren't a proper substitute for human company. If she were to raise him, Harry, he'd have family close by, and she would finally have a companion after so many years on her own.

But how was she to protect him? She was a Squib. If You-Know-Who's followers were to come looking… She couldn't do it. It didn't matter, in any case. Dumbledore had made his plans. Harry was to go to the Muggles, and she was merely to watch over him, offer her services as a babysitter in the event they might be necessary.

Snickering from beneath the kitchen table told her that the twins were, once again, up to no good. But Molly Weasley didn't have the time to investigate. She swooped down to pick up her youngest son, Ron before he crawled out into the garden, overrun with gnomes and carried him through to the living room where his sister, Molly's one and only daughter, little Ginny lay dozing in a cot.

Glancing towards the clock on the wall, she noted that all but two of the hands pointed to Home. Arthur was at the Ministry while their oldest son Bill was in his first year at Hogwarts.

They'd discussed for hours whether or not to keep him at home, considering the current climate of the wizarding world, but in the end Mr and Mrs Weasley had decided that the safest place for their son was at Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore.

As Charlie's hand ticked over to Lost for a moment before returning to Garden Molly held a hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. At just nine years old Charlie was very outdoorsy and despite his size, had become quite adept at degnoming the garden.

A bang from the second level of the house, followed by a shriek from five year old Percy told Molly that the twins were on the move and had taken to terrorizing their brother.

The general chaos of her home aside, Molly couldn't help but allow her mind to drift back to what she'd been mulling over for days.

Poor little Harry Potter.

She knew he was now living with his Muggle relatives but that didn't stop her from wondering…

The boy had gotten on well enough with Ron when they'd been placed together at Order meetings. He was a very well-tempered child, a delight at just over a year old.

What difference would one more mouth to feed make?

A second louder bang from upstairs followed by "Mummy make them stop! They're trying to blow up my books!" had her pop Ron in the cot with Ginny before striding upstairs to separate the two terrors that were her twin boys Fred and George from their task to destroy their brother's room.

A third bang as she reached the landing put all thoughts of Harry Potter from her mind. She had too much to deal with at present to think seriously about adding another person to the mix.

It could have easily been me, she thought, scrubbing furiously at the already immaculately clean kitchen table. The prophecy never truly said… it was Albus Dumbledore who had deduced who was in the most danger and had come up with the plan.

But Alice Longbottom knew, as she cleaned her house from top to bottom, the Muggle way, (she needed a distraction, after all the terrible things that had happened in the week since Halloween) that it could have just as easily been her family that The Dark Lord had targeted.

If she had gone into labour just a few hours later, her son would have been born on the same day as Harry Potter, born as the seventh month dies, the prophecy said. Just a few hours and You-Know-Who might have come after her and Frank. After Neville.

But they had been lucky, it seemed. He had seen more of a threat in a half-blood than the pure-blood that she had given birth to.

She had no idea why that was, why he would even acknowledge the presence of a child whose mother was, in his eyes, unworthy of a Hogwarts education. In any case that was who he chose, and though she wouldn't say it out loud, she was glad it hadn't been her.

The Potter's were dear, dear friends, they'd been at Hogwarts together, it was a terrible tragedy. But she was still alive, and she would get to see her son grow up.

Turning to check on Neville in his playpen, Alice saw his smile and returned it. Looking into the happy, round face of her marvellous boy, she decided that once Frank returned from work she would propose an idea to him.

Harry Potter deserved to know who he was. He deserved to grow up in a household that knew what he had done for the world. When her husband came home, she was going to ask him if they could go to Dumbledore and ask to take the child in.

Remus never voiced his desire to anyone, choosing instead to shut himself away from most people as he dealt with the emotions left over from that terrible Halloween.

Molly didn't think of the idea again for almost a full year, but by then, she told herself, Harry would have been happy in his home with the family who had been caring for him since he was one year old and it would have just been cruel to uproot him again.

Alice never even got a chance to broach the subject with Frank. When he returned home from work, after she had spent a great deal of the day rehearsing what she would say, she handed him a drink and stepped back to allow him time with their son.

As they sat down for dinner later on, and she opened her mouth to begin, their house was invaded suddenly by four crazed looking people. Known Death Eaters, who had for that particular occasion, forgone wearing their masks.

By the time they were discovered the next morning, the Longbottom's were in no condition to take in a second child, let alone raise their own.

In the end there wasn't a question, really. The safest place for Harry Potter, until he turned eleven and could attend Hogwarts, was naturally with his aunt, the last of his blood relatives. She was the only one who would be able to keep him safe, thanks to the sacrifice his mother, her sister had made.

Fin