Chapter Two: A Different Beginning

Albus Dumbledore stared down at Harry Potter: wonder, amazement and sadness flashing across his sombre features. The child had survived and Voldemort had been destroyed to the point of almost nothing. It was a miracle- yet Dumbledore couldn't say he hadn't expected something like this to happen. The child was asleep in his crib, but his face was flushed and wet with recent tears. A bleeding cut also stretched across his small forehead, near the middle: a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Dumbledore knew about cursed scars, but he had never seen anything like this one. It was almost glowing red, and it was so fresh- so alive. Voldemort must have been there mere minutes ago.

Slowly, Dumbledore moved his hands towards Harry and gently picked the boy up- holding him against his chest- and stared around the room. It was almost completely destroyed- the walls and roof were gone so that the room opened up to the stars and a fresh breeze blew around them, but some of the furniture had survived what must have been some sort of magical explosion of energy. A baby changer lay a meter or so from the crib, and a small chest of drawers filled with clothes and baby supplies had been flung into the middle of the room. There was also a cute stuffed toy dragon in the crib, and a few random blocks scattered around the floor- some of them charred- which looked about to collapse any moment. Dumbledore could hear yells and shouts coming from across the street and a little down the road, and knew the Muggles would start swarming around the house to investigate any minute- he didn't have much time. Still holding Harry in one arm, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the crib and it disappeared with a small whoosh- sucked straight into the tip of his wand. He pointed it at the chest and the same thing happened. Then at the blocks on the floor and the toy dragon: they shimmered for a moment before vanishing. Dumbledore walked to the baby changer and placed Harry on top. He rummaged underneath and found what he was looking for: a small knitted blanket. He wrapped it around Harry and picked him up again, pointing his wand behind him as he strode towards the door and 'collecting' it like the other items. As on the way up, Dumbledore tried not to look at the bodies of his old friends as he stepped over them and walked out into the front garden. He would have to look after them later and decide what to do about everything else. Dumbledore glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and- with a small pop that broke the still silence of the night- disappeared.

Seconds later he was walking hurriedly across the lawns surrounding Hogwarts Castle, heading straight for the large oak front doors. His robes billowed around him as he quickened his pace, Harry still held tightly against his beard. He had deduced that Harry didn't have any major injuries, but the cut on his forehead was worrying and nevertheless, Madam Pomfrey ought to look him over. The doors opened to admit Dumbledore as he reached them and he rushed along the corridors- the people in the portraits waking up and staring as he passed them. It was, after all, still only the early hours of the morning. The door to the Hospital Wing was opened just a crack and yellow light streamed out- he could hear voices coming from inside. Dumbledore knocked twice and pushed it open.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were sitting around the fire on a couple of small seats, but they got up immediately upon seeing Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall stepped forwards, breathing heavily.

'Albus, did they. . . are they. . .?'

Dumbledore hung his head, a fresh tear falling down his cheek. Minerva and Madam Pomfrey looked at each other, then Minerva fell back down into her chair, clutching her chest.

'Lily and James dead, oh Albus, I can't believe it. . .'

Madam Pomfrey was wiping her eyes with a tissue. They stood in silence for a minute, mourning the loss of their friends.

'And, and . . . He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?' Madam Pomfrey broke the quiet, her voice quivering.

'Gone.' croaked Dumbledore.

'You don't mean he's dead?' whispered Minerva.

'No,' said Dumbledore, looking up. 'But he is weak. Very week. Reduced to almost nothing.'

'But how?'

'Harry.'

'Their son? He's not. . . he's not. . .'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'No, he is alive. He defeated Voldemort.'

'But, but he's just a baby!' cried Madam Pomfrey.

'Exactly,' said Dumbledore as he moved closer to them, and the two witches noticed for the first time that he was holding a bundle of blankets in his arms.

'Did you- did you know he was going to survive? No one has ever- not with that curse-'

'I had my suspicions. That is why I called you down here half an hour ago and asked you to wait while I went to investigate. The Killing Curse killed Lily and James and destroyed their house, bit couldn't harm Harry.'

Minerva and Madam Pomfrey moved so that they were standing next to Dumbledore. They peered down at the little baby boy wrapped in the blankets and Dumbledore spoke again: 'But he is hurt, which is why I brought him here. Poppy, could you?'

Madam Pomfrey took him gently from Dumbledore's arms and peered at him. 'Poor dear,' she whispered, moving Harry's hair to the side and staring at his cut. 'A cursed scar.'

'Yes.' Dumbledore said softly.

Madam Pomfrey took Harry over to a bed and placed him down on it, unwrapping him from the blankets as Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood next to the bed to watch. Poppy took a wet cloth and slowly wiped the blood off Harry's scar so that it was nothing more than a thin, pink-ish cut. Then she wiped his face dry of tears and began unbuttoning his pyjamas.

Harry's hand twitched a bit and he moved. Poppy stopped. Harry opened and closed his fists and slowly opened his eyes. Minerva just managed to say how much they resembled Lily's before Harry gave a loud wail and began crying. Poppy immediately finished taking Harry's pyjamas off and picked him up, murmuring soft words and holding him against her chest to try and soothe him, but Harry continued to yell, until every breath was an effort and his cries became quiet sobbing.

'I think it's his scar,' Poppy told Dumbledore. 'I'm going to try and numb the pain and give him a children's dreamless sleep potion.'

Madam Pomfrey set Harry back down on the bed and took out her wand, waving it around him in small circles. Then she brought it closer to Harry's scar and the tip of her wand touched it gently. Harry gave a loud sob but seemed to choke halfway through it, shocked. He didn't understand why the pain had suddenly gone. . . and where was his mother? He wanted his mother- why wouldn't she come? Where was she? Harry was about to star wailing again when he felt something rubbery against his lips. Poppy was holding a baby bottle filled with the purple potion. Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the milk. He latched on, sucking softly, and moments later was asleep. Poppy removed the bottle from his mouth and placed it on the bedside table, and the three adults stared down at the baby. How strange was it that their saviour was still wearing nappies and drinking from bottles. That he could barely stand, yet had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. Poppy quickly checked the rest of his body over for injuries, but other than a small scratch on his leg, Harry was fine. She put his pyjamas back on with a wave of her wand and wrapped him back up in his blankets before handing him to Dumbledore, who took Harry and looked up.

'Harry Potter has two options,' he said quietly. 'He can go and live in Surrey with his muggle aunt and uncle, where magical wards formed from his mother's blood would keep him safe from Voldemort's followers and anybody wishing him harm-'

'You don't mean The Dursleys?' cried Minerva. 'Lily told me all about them, and they despise magic- they hate anything magical and barely even spoke to the Potters!'

'As I said, he has two options,' repeated Dumbledore softly. 'His other one would be to stay here, and live with us. We could raise him, here in the castle. He would be safe here, too. I agree The Dursleys are not ideal candidates for raising a magical child, and perhaps it would be best for him to grow up here.'

'Here?' said Minerva. 'Albus, aren't there more options, other than those two? What about Sirius Black? He is his godfather, after all, and Lily and James would have wanted-'

'No,' said Dumbledore, and the two other witches sensed a coldness in his voice they had never heard before. 'Sirius Black was the one that betrayed them. He was their Secret Keeper, and he sold them to Voldemort.'

Minerva gasped.

'Sirius Black? James' best friend while they were at school?' exclaimed Madam Pomfrey.

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

'He is staying here,' said Minerva- and her voice had something final in it. The three of them looked down at the small baby again, and despite the sadness they all felt, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile slightly.

A/N: Please read and review :)