Hey! I'm starting this story over again because Harry was way too much of a wimp! You better enjoy this, because I'm putting a lot of work into it! There will be many boring, familiar scenes in this first part, I warn you, but it is mandatory that you read them if you want to understand. I may be changing some appearances, too (don't worry! Not anyone REALLY important's), so don't point out stuff like that! Thanks!
NOTE: I do not own anything out of the Harry Potter book and movie series. The first two paragraphs are THE SAME AS THE ONES IN THE BOOKS, but that is only because they're the only way I really can start this series over again. So they're not my paragraphs, and neither are the characters and everything. I'll tell you if I own a person (I don't think I'll make one, don't worry). And this goes for all chapters, by the way.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde, and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy elsewhere.
Unfortunately, though, Dudley Dursley was actually the most spoiled boy ever to be raised. He had everything he could have ever wanted, and was already twice the average weight a baby boy his age should be. The Dursleys happily ignored these facts and continued to pamper him.
Yes, they were indeed the most ordinary family on the block by the looks of them. But appearances aren't always correct. You see, Mr and Mrs Dursley hid a very great secret from everyone that existed in their lives, and even tried to forget it themselves. If anyone found out about the other side of the family, they wouldn't know what to do.
The Potters were, in their opinion, the most horrible sort that could exist. They were completely unlike the Dursleys in every way. Mrs Dursley didn't want Dudley to mix with their son, Harry, and the two families wouldn't get along very well, anyway. That was why they hadn't invited them over for the last couple of years – the Potters just weren't normal.
When Privet Drive awoke on the cold, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing in the air that hinted to anything unusual that would actually be taking place all over the world. Mrs Dursley kissed her husband goodbye and went inside as he opened the car door, straightening his tie to look perfect for work. He glanced out the window out of habit to see if the sprinklers were on, when he noticed the most peculiar thing – a small, stiff looking tabby cat reading a map. He shook his head angrily as an owl flew past the rear end of his car. Cats didn't read – it was just inspecting a stray piece of garbage it had found. There was nothing strange about that.
As he drove around the edge of town, though, he couldn't help but notice some other things he was sure he hadn't seen the day before, either. There were groups of people standing around in different colored cloaks, whispering excitedly about something. He decided abruptly that they must be collecting for something. Rolling down the window, he eased on the break peddle and prepared to ask what they were gathering donations for. His mouth slammed shut, though, as he caught a hint of what they were saying.
"-the Potters, do you really think-"
"-yes, their son, Harry-"
Mr Dursley stepped on the gas and cranked the steering wheel to the right. He stopped as suddenly as he had started the u-turn, however. What was he thinking? If he drove right back home and told Mrs Dursley about everything he had seen within the past hour, all that he would succeed in doing was making her angry. Besides, he couldn't confirm that anything strange was happening – Harry was a common name, there was probably some convention going on, and cats liked to look at things.
And that was that. He turned the wheel once more, and continued on his way to work, mind on drills and that slacker he was planning on firing that day.
The tabby cat watched impatiently as the man she had seen earlier drove his way back into the driveway late that night. She hopped up onto the window sill and contented herself with watching their every move, until, finally, they shut the lights off and she could see no more.
A sudden pop caused her to turn her head, and she narrowed her eyes angrily at the tall, old man who had suddenly appeared in the center of the street, holding what appeared to be a lighter. She watched as he flicked it once, twice, thrice, until all of the lights on the street had gone out, seemingly sucked into the small, silver object. The man, seemingly satisfied, nodded his bearded head and walked her way, smiling as he sat on the brick wall a few feet away.
"Professor McGonagall," he said in his wise voice, "I should have expected you to be here."
The cat twitched its ears slightly, surprised to be recognized for what she really was. She let out a low hiss of defeat, then, quite suddenly, was human again.
"What are you doing here?" She said angrily.
The old man, Dumbledore, smiled slightly in her direction.
"Why," he said, "I should be the one asking that question."
"I've heard you were going to be here," the women urged hurriedly, "and I've heard what everyone's been whispering and celebrating about all day. Is it true, Dumbledore? Is it true what they're saying?"
Dumbledore sat back sadly and looked her in the eyes.
"And what is it that they're saying?" he asked, taking a small package out of his pocket.
"That James and Lily Potter are dead!" Professor McGonagall burst out, "That You-Know-Who killed them, and tried to kill their son! They're saying, Dumbledore, that Harry Potter survived, and that You-Know-Who is nowhere to be found!"
She regarded him anxiously, tears in her eyes.
"Is it true? Please, Albus…"
The silver-haired man patted her on the back gently.
"I'm afraid so, Minerva, I'm afraid so…"
They sat there in silence for some time, until the rustling of Dumbledore opening the small package broke the lack of sound.
"Would you like a sherbet lemon?" he offered.
"A what?" Professor McGonagall glanced at the small, yellow sweet he was holding up, "No, thank you." She said coldly.
Dumbledore glanced at his watch quickly, then looked down the road.
"Hagrid's late." He stated.
Professor McGonagall looked at his watch to see the time, but couldn't understand how to make it out. Instead of numbers, there were twelve planets moving around the rim of the glass in a seemingly random pattern.
"And what exactly is Hagrid late for?"
A flock of owls suddenly rose up from a nearby tree, and a loud rumbling sound filled the night. Dumbledore watched sadly as an oversized motorbike landed on the ground a few houses away, and a gigantic, wild looking man began walking over with a bundle of blankets in his arms.
"He's here to bring Harry to his Aunt and Uncle's."
McGonagall rose quickly and protested, "What?! The people living here?! Oh, Albus, no! He won't be happy here! He won't know anything about himself!!"
"'Ello, there, Dumbledore, McGonagall. I've brought young 'Arry 'ere."
"Thank you, Hagrid." Dumbledore said, taking the bundle of blankets and walking over to the front stairs of the Dursleys' house.
He placed a letter between the blue fabric and they each gave Harry Potter words and kisses of goodbye. A cold wind blew by faintly as Dumbledore set him down on the cement steps.
"It will be better for him if he grows up here. It is for his own good."
They left each in their own way, the child sitting alone in the silent night, unaware that his life was about to change drastically, and not for the better. He rubbed the scar on his forehead angrily in his sleep, as though it was bothering him, then rolled over and dreamt on.
InkyOkay, so it's short. Bear with me! It was the first chapter! And that's also why it's not the greatest! But this is the first DH story that is going to be an ACTUAL story. The last one just sucked. SO…thanks! And review!