Umbridge was sitting in her office. Of course still trying to think of ways to reveal Harry Potter as the liar he is. Then books appeared in front her. The books had different titles. But two words caught her eye. Harry Potter. She smirked evilly. Soon she was sitting in the room of requirement with Harry and the others. Suddenly the was a bright white light. There stood James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin. "Mom Dad," Harry said. His voice cracking a little. "Did he just call me dad," James said confused. "What makes you sure that he was talking to you," Lily said. "Because he looks more like James than me or Sirius," Remus said. Harry leaped and hugged James with all his might. "Mom," Harry said looking at Lily. Lily gasped and looked at James. They both smiled and hugged Harry. The future watchers besides Umbridge smiled as Harry and Sirius reunited with James and Lily. "Nice to see you Remus," Harry said turning to him. "Okay who's hungry," Molly said. Me was heard from everyone but Harry. Harry looked down. "Harry have you eaten at all lately," Hermione said not touching because of the bruises his uncle gave him. Harry shook his head no. "Why not babe," Ginny said holding her boyfriends hand. Harry blushed while everyone else chuckled and giggled. "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said that freaks like me don't deserve to eat," Harry said. Gasps were heard around the room. When a brunette boy stomped up to Harry. "I want to see them right now mister," Stiles demanded. Harry took off his shirt. Bruises covered his entire top body. Stiles growled. "A couple of them are from you guys but then the rest are from my uncle," Harry said gulping at the anger on Stiles face. "We're hurting you why didn't you say anything," Stiles said surprised. Someone growled. Tall scary looking brunette stood next to Stiles. "Why didn't you tell me, i could have made them stop being so rough with you," Derek demanded. Harry shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Forget that for a moment where is my hello kiss mister didn't you miss me," Stiles huffed. Derek smiled and kissed Stiles. Which turned into a heavy make out. Harry groaned. "I missed you so much," Derek whispered to Stiles. "Good i missed you too," Stiles whispered back. "When we are finally alone i am going to tie you up and show you just how much i missed you," Derek growled. Stiles shivered and said "Not in front of Harry, Derek". Everyone that was a werewolf groaned and whined. "Anyway, now that we are up to speed with Mr. Potter's health, we are going to read books on his life," Umbridge looking smug. "What," Harry whispered. Ron and Hermione looked scared. The golden trio were worried about them finding out everything they have done in the past four years. "Lets get started. Harry was forced to read first.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone." Harry said.
" What in the world is that," Lily asked.
"Not telling," The golden trio said.
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived
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.
"How can you not like strange," Stiles whined.
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 mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as shespent 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 anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
" What is wrong with the potters?" Ron asked.
"Nothing they are great," Hermione said.
The two potters smiled at Hermione.
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish
"Hermione is that even a word," Ron whispered.
"No Ron it is not," Hermione whispered back.
as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HARRY'S FAMILY," Ron yelled.
"Ron according to them anything that was supernatural was bad," Harry said.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
"Wow he hasn't changed much," Harry said.
"Really," Everyone said surprised.
Harry nodded.
There was a bang. In walked Derek's pack. Scott McCall and his mate Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey and his mate Rose Brandon, Boyd and his mate Erica Reyes, Jackson Whittmore and his mate Lydia Martin.
"SIT DOWN NOW," Derek snapped.
Soon his pack was sitting.
"New rule when it comes to the humans of the pack, You are not aloud to be rough with them, and if i hear that you are then you will be on
the worstest punishment there is for our kind," Derek said.
"Wait what do you mean rough Stiles doesn't have any bruises..."Jackson trailed off as the pack looked at Harry.
"Oh Harry were sorry we didn't know why didn't you tell us," Rose said worried about her baby brother. Rose was always like a big sister to him.
"Because not all of the bruises are from you, some are from my uncle," Harry said.
"HE HIT YOU!" the entire pack shrieked.
Derek growled.
Harry was part of his pack. No one hurts his pack.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!" Umbridge shrieked as she watched the entire pack but Stiles and Harry transform.
"There werewolves," Harry said.
"What", Hermione said.
"You hang out with more werewolves and didn't tell us," Ron said a little hurt.
"I did tell you," Harry said.
"No you told us about them but not about the fact that they were werewolves," Hermione said.
"Look i can't just go around announcing their secret to everyone," Harry said.
"Right sorry," Hermione and Ron said.
Sure they were hurt but Harry was right. It is dangerous to go telling people about his pack.
Umbridge pointed her wand at Derek.
The pack tensed. she was about to say the death spell, when her wand was knocked out of her hand.
"DON'T TOUCH MY ALPHA!" Harry snapped.
"What is wrong with you boy he is dangerous," Umbridge said.
"No he is not Derek would never hurt any of us or any human," Harry said.
"My mate loves us like his own family," Stiles said.
"He is closest to a father i have ever had," Scott said.
"Me too," Harry said.
James's heart broke at that. Where am i he thought to himself.
"Derek takes care of us he makes sure we are safe and healthy," Isaac said.
"And Happy," Erica said.
"We are properly not in the books so we will tell you our story when the first chapter is done," Stiles said.
"Can we please get this book over with," Lily said.
Everyone agreed.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
Nobody commented.
So Harry read on.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.
"What a brat," Hermione said.
"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map.
"I highly doubt he was little," Harry said.
For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize 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. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
"Of course normal cats can't read signs dumbo," Hermione huffed.
"What do you mean?" Sirius said.
"It's obvious that is animagus," Hermione said.
Everyone nodded slowly.
Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
"What's a drill," Purebloods asked.
"It's a muggle tool used to make holes," Everyone (who grew up in a muggle world and Sirius) said.
Arthur looked excited. Arthur opened his mouth.
"Not now Arthur," Molly said.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks
Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.
"Why?" Everyone in past asked?
"Not telling," Everyone in the future said.
The people in the past pouted.
Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it.
The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
"What in the world," Umbridge muttered.
"Harry is it because of your parents," Rose whispered.
Harry nodded to his fellow pack member.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
"Like he needs it," Ron scoffed.
Everyone who knew Harry's uncle chuckled.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. Hedidn't know why, but they made him uneasy.
This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"
"What about us," James said confused.
" yes, their son, Harry"
Mr. Dursley stopped dead.
"You mean he is actually dead," Harry said excited.
"Don't get your hopes up honey," Stiles said cooing at his excited baby.
Harry blushed.
Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.
Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry.
"WHAT HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!" Derek yelled.
Harry nodded and gulped. The entire pack went into submission.
He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.
"Harvey and Harold don't suit Harry," Isaac said.
"Yeah his name is better," Scott said.
There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH MY MOTHER YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Harry yelled as he glared at the book.
"HARRY LANGUAGE!" Stiles yelled.
"Sorry Stiles," Harry said.
Lily and James smiled. It was good to see Harry defend his mother.
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground.
Stiles burst into tears.
"Stiles babe what's wrong," Derek said worried.
"He killed him, Derek the whale killed the innocent man," Stiles said though his sobs.
On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!
"Is it just me or has Stiles been really emotional lately," Rose whispered to Isaac.
She knew Derek and the other wolves could hear her.
"Yeah and he has been eating alot," Isaac whispered back.
"You don't think he could be," Scott whispered.
"Stiles are you sick," Rose said concerned.
"No i don't have a fever," Stiles said.
"Derek do you think Stiles could be pregnant," Erica said.
"What i can't be," Stiles said cutting off.
"Think about it Derek, he has been emotional lately, and has been eating alot, also the constant need to have sex," Allison said.
"Don't forget the constant throwing up," Harry said.
"OMG YOU GOT ME PREGNANT!" Stiles said.
"You are joking right," Derek said.
"Omg we are going to have a baby i am going to be a mother omg," Stiles said ranting.
"Stiles calm down," Rose said.
"Yeah i can see if my mom could fly out and help," Scott said.
Stiles nodded. Scott's mom is a nurse. So she knows about this stuff.
"Derek you don't want the baby," Stiles said crying again.
"What of course i do i was just in shock," Derek said trying to calm him.
"You want the baby," Stiles said slowly.
Derek nodded.
Stiles smiled and kissed him over and over again.
"I love you," Stiles said.
"I love you too," Derek said.
"Can we get back to the book please," Umbridge said.
The pack nodded.
Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"His arms fit," Harry said shocked.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.
It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"I wonder why you are there professor," Hermione said.
"How do you know it is Minnie," Harry said.
James, Sirius, and Remus all grinned. It's nice to know that he copied their nickname for McGonagall.
"Must you call me that Harry," McGonagall said.
"Yep," Harry said popping the p.
Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
"Oh crap he is starting to put two and two together now anyone could," Harry said.
"This can not be good," Lily said.
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"That is so horrible," Stiles said.
There are times where Stiles wished he had a sister. Even if she was different. He wouldn't pretend she didn't exist.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?" "Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.
"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."
"Her crowd honestly these people," James huffed.
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."
"I think Harry is a cute name," Lily, Ginny, Hermione, Erica, Allison, Lydia, Stiles, and Rose said.
Harry blushed. While the guys chuckled.
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…
How very wrong he was.
"I don't like this," Harry said.
Stiles squeezed his hand in reassurance.
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
"Yep it's definitely Minnie," James, Remus, Sirius, and Harry said.
The said boys chuckled when they realized they said the same thing.
Ron, Hermione, and Lily all smiled at the chuckles.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"OOH i can have one," Sirius and Ron said.
Everyone shook their heads at their similarities.
He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."
She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"What eleven years," Lily said surprised.
Everyone who knew Harry's story got sad.
"What's with the down faces," James said.
"You'll see," Harry said.
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.
"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.
"What's going on," Lily said. Hoping her boyfriend wasn't injuried.
Harry shook his head.
Harry continued to read.
The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Harry's voice cracked at the end.
"WHAT!" Everyone from the past yelled.
Harry and the futures nodded.
"Thank you," James said to Derek.
"For what," Derek said.
"For treating my son like he was your own," James said.
James and Lily hugged Harry who began to cry.
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"
"Thanks professor," James said as he tried to stop Lily's tears.
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.
"What," James snapped.
"He had better not have touched you," Lily said angrily.
But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."
"You killed Voldemort," James said shocked.
"Sort of," Harry said.
"Impressive for a one year old," Sirius said.
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."
Derek and all werewolves growled.
"Why can't Sirius or Remus take him," James said.
"Remus promise me that if me and James die you and Sirius will take Harry away," Lily said.
"I promise Lily," Remus said.
You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
"Their kid is a brat," Stiles snapped.
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?
These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"You better not be," Derek growled at Dumbledore.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"My beautiful bike," Sirius said smiling.
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets.
Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Awwww," All the girls including Stiles and excluding Umbridge cooed.
Harry blushed redder than the Weasley's hair.
"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.
"YOU LEFT HIM ON A DOORSTEP," Stiles yelled.
"I guess," Dumbledore said.
"You poor baby," Stiles said petting Harry's hair.
Harry blushed harder than he ever did before.
For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"
"I guess that is where the title comes from," James said.
"You all better start telling us your story," Lily demanded as she pointed at the pack.
Derek and his pack nodded.