Female Harry Potter story—I know it's overused, but I just could not resist the urge to write one.

Disclaimer: I do now own Harry Potter. I am merely using J.K Rowling's characters and some of her story for creative purposes. Nothing more.

All was silent in the Privet Drive neighbourhood. The houses lining the streets had darkened windows—everyone had gone to bed long ago—and the only sound that could be heard was the distant hooting of an owl. The moon's rays shone down on the street, bathing it and the cars, mailboxes and flower gardens in an oddly silver light. In the nighttime sky above, the stars twinkled happily, and there was a light breeze blowing in the air.

Down at the far end of Privet Drive, in the shadows away from the light posts that lined the street, there was a crack.

A strange man appeared out of thin air. His name was Albus Dumbledore and he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He did not look at all concerned with the fact that he did not fit in with the surrounding of Privet Drive with its evenly mowed lawns, perfectly pruned shrubs, immaculate gardens and shiny cars.

Dumbledore reached into his oddly coloured, red-violet robes and pulled out what looked to be a silver cigarette lighter. He raised the device in the air and clicked it; a ball of light came shooting out of the nearest light post to the device, almost as though it had been sucked out. Dumbledore clicked the device several more times until the entire street of Privet Drive had darkened, with the only source of light coming from the moon in the sky.

Stowing the strange device—the Put-Outer—back away in his robes, Dumbledore began to stride down Privet Drive at a comfortable pace. The light breeze ruffled at his robes and his long, silver beard. He came to a stop at the end of the driveway of Number 4 and waited.

Out of the shadows, in-between houses Number 4 and Number 6, a silver tabby cat emerged. The cat came strolling around the car parked in the driveway and stopped just in front of Dumbledore, peering up at him at with eyes that had strange markings—resembling spectacles—around them.

"Hello, Minerva." Dumbledore greeted the cat. "I was expecting to see you here, of course."

The silver tabby's fur began to retreat and its claws shortened. Within seconds, the form of the silver tabby had changed and was replaced by a tall, black-haired witch dressed in dark travelling robes. Her name was Minerva McGonagall. She did not look happy or pleased to be seeing Dumbledore here in Privet Drive; instead, she wore an expression of anxiousness and worry.

McGonagall gave Number 4 a brief glance before meeting Dumbledore's brilliant, piercing blue eyes. "Professor Dumbledore… Albus…" There was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke. "If you are here—then—"

"Yes, Minerva, the rumors and news are true." Dumbledore said sadly, bowing his head in respect as he remembered his two former students whom had just so recently lost their lives. "Lily and James Potter are dead."

McGonagall gasped, despite having already heard the rumors. It was much worse to have the truth confirmed for her. "I-I just don't want to believe it. James and Lily—they were kind and caring people, much too y-young."

Dumbledore handed McGonagall a handkerchief. "Here you are, Minerva."

"Thank you." McGonagall sniffed as she took the handkerchief and wiped her nose, attempting to compose herself. "The Potter—Lily and James—they had a little baby girl. Harley—"

"Harley Potter is safe and alive."

McGonagall raised her hand to her mouth to stifle another gasp. "But the rumors said that You-Know-Who—that he tried to kill Harley."

"And Voldemort could not." Dumbledore responded calmly, not at all taking notice of McGonagall's startled jump upon hearing Voldemort's name. "Something about Harley Potter stopped him—broke his power and destroyed him, made him flee into the unknowns."

McGonagall shook her head. "It is all so impossible. Eleven years he's been running large, terrorizing the Wizarding Community, and a little baby girl manages to stop him. All the questions…"

"…and they cannot be answered." Dumbledore finished for McGonagall. "For the only survivor that night remains is a little baby."

"Yes, yes." McGonagall agreed. She once again glanced at Number 4. "If you are here, Albus, then I am to assume that you are bringing Harley Potter here to live with her family."

Dumbledore nodded. "You would be correct, Minerva."

"Albus, you cannot bring her here." McGonagall hissed quietly, gesturing to Number 4. "I have been here all day, watching these Muggles—they are the worst sort of people imaginable. The woman is nosy; the little boy screams all day and has tantrums; and the husband is judgmental." She eyed Dumbledore as if she couldn't begin to fathom what was going on inside his mind. "You cannot bring Harley Potter here to the Muggle world, not when everyone in the Wizarding World will know her name and her tale."

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked sad. "It is for that reason that Harley Potter must live here with her Muggle family." He told McGonagall. "That type of fame would be enough to turn anyone's head. Certainly that of a young, impressionable girl."

McGonagall pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. She could understand what Dumbledore was saying—it would not bode well for Harley Potter if she were to grow up in the Wizarding World, where every witch and wizard would know her name. There would probably even be books written about her. Harley Potter could potentially arrive to Hogwarts with an inflated ego and an attitude the size of Britain.

"Yes, I see your point, Albus, but how can you expect muggles to explain to Harley what has happened?"

"I have written everything that Petunia Dursley will need to know in a letter." Dumbledore reassured McGonagall, while patting his pocket where the letter was kept. "When the time is right, she shall tell Harley Potter about what happened the night of October 31, 1981."

A loud rumbling sound interrupted Dumbledore and McGonagall's conversation. The noise was coming from the sky; into the distance an indistinct shape could be seen. It was flying closer and closer—Dumbledore and McGonagall could now see that the shape was a flying motorbike operated by a large, hairy man.

The motorbike landed at the end of Privet Drive and roared down the street, stopping in front of Dumbledore and McGonagall. The tall man—or more like giant—rose to his feet; in his arms he was holding a bundle of blankets. A little baby's head with wisps of dark red hair could be seen in the wrap of blankets.

"Hello there, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall."

"Hello, Hagrid." Dumbledore inclined his head in greeting. "Were there any troubles?"

"No, sir—the house was almost destroyed, but I got her out before the Muggle started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Hagrid informed the Headmaster.

McGonagall eyed the motorbike with distaste. "Hagrid, where did you come across this bike?"

"Oh this." Hagrid said, shifting his hold on the sleeping baby in his arms so he could pat the motorbike with one of his hands, which were the size of dustbin lids. "Sirius Black gave this ter me, saying he wouldn't need it. I asked 'im if he was comin' with me and he told me he couldn', that he had summat to do."

McGonagall had a worried look upon her face. Sirius had been a reckless student while attending Hogwarts, and it would not surprise her if he was out doing something reckless right now—especially with the recent news of the deaths of Lily and James.

"Albus, perhaps, we should…" But McGonagall trailed off when Dumbledore rose his hand.

"We shall worry about Mr. Black later. Firstly, we must attend to this situation."

Hagrid let out a loud wail, tears spilling onto his shaggy, black beard. "Poor little Harley, off ter live with Muggles!"

"Hagrid, you must be quieter or you will wake the Muggles." McGonagall instructed.

"Sorry, Professor, I jus still can' believe it." Hagrid shook his massive head.

Dumbledore reached up, patting Hagrid's large shoulder. "It will be alright, Hagrid." He reassured the half-giant. "Harley is safe and will be protected here."

"Right yer are, Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid said, sounding better than he had before when he was sniffling. Composing himself, he bent down and slowly held out the bundle of blankets to show the sleeping Harley to Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Cute little thin' she is. She'll be breakin' hearts, I'm sure o' it."

McGonagall leaned forward. Upon Harley's forward was a scar—it was shaped like a lightning bolt. It was red and jagged and still looked fresh. "Is that where…?"

Dumbledore nodded his head sadly. "Yes, it is."

"Is there anything that can be done about the scar? Perhaps Saint Mungo's or Madam Pomphrey—"

Dumbledore interrupted, though not rudely. "Unfortunately, Minerva, the scar cannot be removed. Harley Potter will have it for the rest of her life, though I find that scars can often come of need later on in life. I, myself, have a peculiar scar located on my knee—I believe it to be the underground system of London." He turned to Hagrid, taking the wrapped-up Harley from his arms. "It is time."

Hagrid, with tears in his eye, and McGonagall watched as Dumbledore went up the walkway to the front of Number 4. He pulled out his wand and waved it once, causing a wicker basket to appear on the welcome mat. Dumbledore then laid the sleeping Harley, all wrapped up in her blankets, inside the wicker basket and tucked the letter—which exclaimed everything—into the folds of the blankets.

"Good luck, Harley Potter." He told the sleeping baby with a soft whisper.

Dumbledore returned to McGonagall and Hagrid, both still standing at the end of the driveway. "Well, I do believe it is time to enjoy the celebrations."

McGonagall frowned.

"It has been eleven years, Minerva." Dumbledore said, taking quick notice of McGonagall's disapproving look. "You cannot fault people for wishing to celebrate."

"I know," she sighed. "But two lives were just taken and a young baby girl orphaned. I do not think I can find it in myself to celebrate much."

Dumbledore nodded his head in understanding.

"I best be gettin' on me way." Hagrid announced, turning to the motorbike and starting it. "I still got to be givin' this bike back to Sirius."

With a final goodbye, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorbike and roared down the street, lifting all the way into the air by the time he reached the end of Privet Drive. McGonagall and Dumbledore watched until Hagrid had soared out of sight into the darkness of the nighttime sky.

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "Goodbye, Albus. I will be seeing you later."

"Goodbye, Minerva."

Turning on the spot, McGonagall disappeared into thin air with a crack. Dumbledore looked towards the wicker basket and the bundle of blankets that contained the sleeping Harley; he wished her all the luck in the world. He knew that she would certainly need it, especially with the future she was sure to face.

Then Dumbledore turned and—crack—he disappeared.

Several hours later, just as the sun began to rise and peek over the tops of the houses, Petunia Dursley opened the front door to put out the milk bottles and, by chance, she looked down at the welcome mat and let out a shrill scream.

There was a wicker basket sitting on the welcome mat with a baby—wrapped in a swaddle of purple and pink blankets—sleeping away peacefully. Setting the milk bottles down beside the basket, Petunia knelt down for a closer look; there was a peculiar scar shaped like a lightning bolt on the baby's forehead.

Strange scar, Petunia thought as she observed it. The scar still looked fresh—it was red and jagged. She wondered what could have possibly happened to cause such a scar on a baby.

Not knowing what else to do, Petunia hastily looked around to make sure that none of her nosy neighbors were watching her and picked up wicker basket. She rose to her feet and hurried back into the warmth of her house, making sure to close the front door quietly. Petunia didn't want to wake up her sleeping husband and baby son, Dudley. In fact, she was surprised that her scream hadn't woken either of them.

Petunia entered the living room and set the wicker basket down on the coffee table. She looked down at the baby and, for the first time, noticed that there was a letter tucked into the fold of the blankets. Petunia snatched the letter up, seeing with a shock that it was addressed to her:

Mrs. Petunia Dursley

4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

Surrey.

Petunia had to resist the urge to tear the letter apart as she saw the familiar cursive loopy writing in green ink. She remembered all those years ago, after… after… Lily had received her letter, how she had written to Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of—of that school, asking if she could go with Lily. Just thinking about the letter that Albus Dumbledore had written back to her, mocking her and telling her that she couldn't attend Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry because she was a Muggle—whatever that was—was making Petunia shake. She had buried her memories and all her feelings associated with her sister—and that world she couldn't be a part of—long ago when she had cut Lily off.

It was the best thing I could have done, Petunia told herself strongly, but she couldn't ignore that bubble of guilt at the bottom of her stomach.

With shaking and nervous hands, Petunia opened the letter and began to read its contents.

Dear Petunia Dursley,

It has been many years since I have written to you, Petunia Dursley, and it is with my greatest sorrow and deepest regret that I write this letter to you. As you are well aware, for the past eleven years, the Wizarding community has been at war with Lord Voldemort, a great and terrible Dark Lord who has been terrorising many wizards and witches.

Nearly a year ago, Lord Voldemort set his sights on the Potters. Lily and James—you sister and her husband—and their newborn daughter, Harley, went into hiding with the use of the Fidelius Charm, a powerful and potent spell that can be used to conceal and hide a secret. The secret is entrusted to a single individual who is known as the Secret Keeper. However, it would seem that Lily and James put their trust in the wrong individual; they were betrayed. Lord Voldemort had been told of the whereabouts of Lily and James, by their Secret Keeper, and he arrived to their house in Godric's Hallow on the eve of October, 31, 1981.

James valiantly defended his family, but Lord Voldemort murdered him before proceeding in an attempt to murder young Harley. But Lily would not allow Lord Voldemort to harm her daughter, and she cast herself between Harley and Lord Voldemort's Killing Curse—a very powerful and sinister spell, which is known as an Unforgivable Curse—in order to save the life of her daughter. The Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort. With his powers broken and gone, Lord Voldemort fled from the wrecked house and has not been seen since. Many in the Wizarding community have already come to believe that Lord Voldemort has been defeated and that this is the end of his reign of terror; however, I believe that this is not the case. Whether it be in a few weeks or several years from now, Lord Voldemort shall return and, when he does, he will seek vengeance. I have no doubt that Lord Voldemort will attempt to finish what he started on October 31, 1981. He will once again try to murder Harley.

In such a perilous situation as this, I turn to you, Petunia, and ask for your help. You see, when Lily gave her life to save her daughter's, she activated an ancient and long-forgotten counter-spell, a Sacrificial Protection, with the magic of love. The activation of this charm allowed for me to cast a powerful bond of blood charm on Harley. However, in order for this charm and its protection to be ultimately sealed, a blood-relative of Lily's must take Harley into his or her house. As you, Petunia, are the only remaining living relative of Lily, the only way Harley can be protected from Lord Voldemort and his followers—especially when he returns—is if she is taken into your home and remains with you until she comes of age when she turns seventeen.

You are under no obligation to take Harley into your home, Petunia, and I will not force you to do so, but I will still urge you to do the right thing. Remember the relationship you had with your sister and think about the extent to which she went to protect her daughter. If you should decide to take Harley in, I should also remind you of the great peril and danger she will be in if she is to leave your house before the age of seventeen. If you decide that you will not be allowing Harley to live with you, please write back to me immediately; I will be returning to pick Harley up and bring her elsewhere.

I am sorry for you loss, Petunia, and I wish you and your family well and safe.

Best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore,

Order of Merlin (First Class), Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Petunia stared blankly at the letter for several minutes. All the words were processing through her mind. Lily was dead—her sister was dead! Shaking her head, Petunia re-read the letter frantically, hoping that she'd simply read it incorrectly. There was just no way her sister could be… dead.

No matter how many times Petunia re-read the letter, the news did not change.

Feeling her body go numb, Petunia released the letter in her hand and watched as it fluttered down to rest on the coffee table. She's gone, Petunia thought as she slowly seated herself on the couch, her hanks shaking and her vision blurring. Tears were building up in Petunia's eyes; she hadn't cried in several years.

Lily is gone… Lily is dead.

"My little sister is dead." Petunia moaned, letting out the sob she'd been holding back. She buried her face into her hands and let go of all of her emotions—the grief, jealousy, anger—everything that had been building up inside of her since she'd finished reading the letter. After several minutes passed, Petunia straightened her shoulders, wiped away her few remaining tears, and turned her attention to the still-sleeping baby in the wicker basket on the coffee table.

Harley Potter was certainly an adorable baby, Petunia could admit that. She had a little, heart-shaped head and smooth, pale skin. Her lips were soft, her nose was little, and the curve of her jawline was soft and feminine; Petunia knew these facial features had come from Lily. Aside from the shape of Harley's eyebrows and ears, Petunia didn't see much of James in her, and even though Petunia had only met James once or twice before, she would always remember what he looked like (she could admit that he had been especially handsome).

"You look just like Lily…" Petunia spoke softly to the sleeping baby. However, as though little Harley could hear Petunia in her sleep, she slowly opened her eyes and gazed up at her aunt.

Petunia gasped.

Harley had familiar bright green, almond-shaped eyes.

"Lily's eyes…" Petunia crooned, leaning forward to gently stroke Harley's cheek. Harley reached up with a tiny, chubby hand and snatched Petunia's finger in her grasp. Petunia laughed. "Lily did the same thing when my parents brought her home from the hospital. She grabbed my finger and refused to let go, at least until…" She trailed off, hardly believing what she doing.

Petunia hadn't thought about Lily or anything to do with her in years, yet as soon as she locked gazes with this little baby, all she could seem to do was reminisce about Lily and the old times when they still got along and had a close relationship.

Staring at Harley, Petunia suddenly knew what she had to do.

"I'm taking you in." Petunia announced to her little niece, despite the fact that Harley couldn't understand a word she was saying. Petunia had come to regret the way things had turned out between her and Lily—though of course she would never admit this out loud to anyone—and now that her sister was dead, she would never have the oppoutunity to make things right in their relationship.

But with Lily's daughter, Petunia could begin to make a difference. Harley was now Petunia's last connection to Lily… and she could make everything up to Lily by taking Harley in; by giving her a roof over her head; by clothing and feeding her; and, most importantly, by loving and caring for her.

Petunia had made up her mind.

Harley Potter was staying.

"And I've always wanted a daughter!" Petunia said happily, smiling at Harley. She would make sure that Lily's daughter grew up safe, protected, happy, and well-loved.

And that is the end of the first chapter.

I LOVE the name Harley, especially since I was introduced to Batman, so I chose to use this name. Harley's full name is: Harley Jamesina Potter.

For this story, I was originally going to go with the classic mean and rude Dursleys, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I wanted to have Harley grow up in a household where she knows love and acceptance—of course it still won't be an easy go when she gets her Hogwarts letter.

Anyways, I hope that everyone enjoyed this first chapter.

Comment and leave me a review. Let me know what you think so far. If you find something you don't like with my story, don't simply flame me—leave me some constructive criticism

That's it!

~ Sincerely, Mickey