Through Emerald Eyes: A Hogwarts Reads

by Cusp of Autumn

Victory came at a cost too steep for a nebulous future to pay. Hence 'the reset button' - seven books, sent back to 1995, read in front of all of Hogwarts and pivotal guests to prevent the coming calamities. The subject, a fifteen year old Harry Potter, may not have minded the loss of privacy if only it wasn't also read in front of every girl he'd ever crushed on! Multi/Harem. AU.

2. 01: The Boy Who Lived

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor am I affiliated with Bloomsbury, Scholastic, or Warner Brothers. This universe belongs solely to them, not I, and I shall never claim otherwise. This is strictly for a laugh - something non-profit and silly - and written with no malicious intent whatsoever.

Author's Note: On the subject of this being a 'characters read' fic, I'll reiterate the age old debate regarding such stories: the books are largely available in multiple formats - for FREE - online. The legal precedence behind that is unknown to me, but if anyone is browsing HP fanfiction and hasn't either read the books or seen the films, I'd quite frankly eat the sorting hat. I'd like to further defend myself by saying that this is an AU reading. You don't see many of those around anywhere, and even less where an outlandish, anime-like harem is forming! There are numerous changes and edits to the source material for this 'reading'. Meaning that as time passes, the 'reading' sections will be less and less Rowling's nuanced words and more frequently my much inferior ones. For the first few books, it may primarily be canon with a few big changes here and there, or some cosmetic touch ups. By the time we get to book three, if we get that far, you'll be hard pressed to go several sentences of Rowling's before mine kick back in. Once again, I am giving the author full credit on top of having purchased the blu-ray film saga and the original seven books. Much like popular youtube reaction channels, this is for a laugh. I humbly hope I've earned the right to share the material with you friends, in a sense, as this is NOT a market substitute.

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The Great Hall was illuminated by the thousands of magical candles floating above the tables, even as the storm clouds blocked out the sun, setting a moody atmosphere for the reading.

"The Boy Who Lived." Dumbledore read out, and the hall went silent in anticipation. Harry winced at the title, but idly noted that there seemed to be a magical note to the Headmaster's voice. It seemed to be even more captivating than it usually was. 'Is this the power of the book?' he wondered. He suspected it had to keep the attention of bored first years somehow.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

All thoughts on the strange properties of the books fled Harry's mind as the first words of what was to be his story were instead about the Dursley's. He had hoped that with seven books, they would chronicle his time at Hogwarts only and not delve into his 'home' life. It appeared the reading was going to be even more intrusive than he'd feared. Hermione and Ron seemed to sense his growing discomfort as he saw them eye him worriedly. They knew some of what his life was like with the Dursley's, but far from everything.

'They'll know soon enough,' he groused, feeling equally angry and ashamed at what was to come.

Meanwhile, the rest of the hall was questioning why the chapter was starting off with people called the Dursley's. Only the Order members, some of the staff, and the Weasley's knew why. Harry's friends, especially Ron and Hermione, grew curious at the chapter's opening. They had always wanted to hear about Harry's childhood, but Harry was ever coy on the matter.

While they knew he didn't get along very well with his relatives, as seen personally by Ron in the summer before Harry's second year, they had always been curious as just what Harry had to put up with; to see what events had turned him into the unique but secretive person he was today, to see why he'd blown up his aunt in the summer before third year, etc. Upon seeing the distinctly uncomfortable look on their best friend's face, however, they quickly grew concerned.

Hermione in particular hoped the chapters concerning Harry's childhood weren't too unpleasant.

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.

Harry shuddered internally, knowing full well how the Dursleys didn't 'hold' with such nonsense.

"I fail to see how that's something to be proud of," a confused Colin Creevey spoke, who was excited at the prospect of learning more about his idol. He had been thrilled to find out he was a wizard, and thus different from most of the people he knew. He couldn't fathom why anyone would pride themselves in being plain and normal?

The Weasley twins scoffed at the thought of the Dursley's being anything remotely "normal". When they'd rescued Harry in the summer before his second year, as well as when they'd met Harry's relatives and seen their overly-tidy house before the Quidditch World Cup, "normal" wasn't the term they would use to describe those people in either circumstance.

Unknowingly, Tonks was thinking along similar lines, a frown marring her beautiful face.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.

"I've never heard of that business," came the voice of a curious Blaise Zabini.

His father, or at least his biological one, had a knack for being a businessman. He took great care to know everything he could about the trade business, as well as learn about the majority of the companies in the wizarding world. This trait passed on to his son, Blaise, who made sure to carry on his now deceased dad's practice. The fact that he'd never heard of a firm called Grunnings intrigued the olive-skinned fifth year. Only belatedly did he realize his question might as well have been a shout in the strange quiet of the hall, as all eyes turned to him for interrupting the reading.

"I'm not surprised," was the unexpected reply from Harry from across the hall. Some students and staff were surprised that he was addressing a Slytherin of all people with cordial tones, but those who really knew him were aware that Harry never held anything against the House of Snakes as a whole. A few of them were even in his Defense group. The rest of the hall would learn this soon enough. For now, upon receiving Blaise's questioning look, Harry explained. "Grunnings is a muggle firm; a business that specializes in muggle devices called drills. It's not likely that a wizard would know of it since they're not necessarily a big name, like Coke or whatnot."

Blaise hid his surprise and nodded his head in thanks to his fellow fifth years polite answer, while his interest was further piqued. Unlike the majority of his house, he held little against muggles and muggleborn aside from their ignorance and at-timed blatant disregard of the wizarding world's culture and traditions. An example of this was the Granger girl's naïve quest to free house elves. His curiosity was piqued because he might be offered a little insight as to how muggles conduct their business.

Unfortunately, the more prolific of his fellow Slytherins did not share this outlook.

"Wait - you mean to say that we're reading about muggles right now?" came the incredulous voice of Draco Malfoy, a disgusted look plastered on his pasty face.

His house mates grumbled in agreement at the prospect of reading about muggles, but a stern look from their head of house silenced them. Snape was many things, but he was not fond of having his Slytherins acting like a bunch of bigoted buffoons in front of the rest of the school and their important guests.

Narcissa frowned at her son's bigoted display. Her thoughts on the usefulness of muggles aside, it was unbecoming of a Black (which she still strongly considered herself to be) to show their true feelings in such public outbursts. The only Black who acted in such a fashion was her cousin Sirius, though that was by far where the comparisons ended between the two. She briefly wondered what had gotten into Draco, as he'd never acted so irrationally in her presence before. Perhaps he was trying to impress his housemates?

'He's becoming more like Lucius every day.'

Tracey Davis narrowed her eyes at the Malfoy scion but kept her scathing comments to herself for the time being. Daphne frowned alongside her, but Lily seemed too lost in the notes she was taking to care.

The muggleborn students in the room were not amused. The staff, three fourths of the student body, and the assembled guests shot looks at the previously sneering Slytherins. McGonagall looking particularly fierce, but she remained oddly silent, possibly due to the sheer windfall of information they'd all had to digest so far.

Harry, meanwhile, was busy identifying the Slytherins who weren't openly complaining about the prospect of reading about muggles. He'd taken to watching interactions instead of speaking without thinking over the years. Lashing out at this moment would do nothing but look immature to their guests. While he was sad to see that the number of visibly neutral Slytherins were little more than half of the House (dozens, but not enough, in his opinion), and some of that number may have been those clever enough not to flaunt their prejudice, he was pleased to see that there were at least several of them sprinkled in each year.

Blaise Zabini and the Slytherin trio of Tracey (he blushed when he thought about her), Daphne, and Lily were notable standouts, as he'd often kept an eye on the four who were the only Slytherins in their year who had never followed Draco around like lost puppies.

"Bigoted gits," Ron whispered harshly, comforting Hermione with a pat on the back, though she looked indifferent to it all. Harry gripped her hand once more.

A few seconds later, Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued with the reading.

He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

"Gross," Gabrielle wrinkled her face in distaste, though a few boys were caught staring at the way her nose scrunched up and quickly turned away at a glance from her older sister.

Several students in the hall looked disgusted at the image, while the more bigoted purebloods used this as an excuse to sneer at the mention of a muggle. Others found the description of Mr. Dursley rather humorous, as several boys from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor sniggered at the thought of seeing such a man in person.

Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck.

"Lovely," joked Tonks, elongating her neck to match the description, much to the amusement of Luna, the Weasley twins, and the fourth year Gryffindors, and the faux-horror of Harry. He was thankful she could keep him from brooding too much.

which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.

Snape sneered at the mention of Petunia, while several of the staff members shuck their heads at the thought of having to read about a nosy woman. None of the staff knew that she was Lily's sister, save for McGonagall and Snape, the latter of whom recalled how interfering the shrill woman was in their childhood. Harry himself thought the descriptions for both of his relatives were rather spot on, though they may not have done Vernon's size complete justice.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The twins turned to face each other. "Small?" Fred questioned in an incredulous tone.

"No finer boy?" George questioned back, mirroring his brother..

The two boys instantly started laughing, and it confused most of the halls occupants. Percy scowled at his brother's antics while the rest of the twin's friends and their family sighed in equal parts amusement and exasperation. Charlie especially grinned at their over-the-top nature.

What they didn't know, was that the twins had kept silent until now to merely think about things. They knew better than most that Harry was a good person, but a secretive one. While they clearly saw the benefits of this reading, they couldn't imagine how he might be feeling at the moment, resilient though he was. They figured if they were going to read this with everyone else, they'd try and make it as easy for Harry as possible.

Harry and Ron smirked at this, knowing that Dudley would have been anything but small as a baby if his current size was any indication. When Harry was sent questioning looks by some of his peers, he merely shrugged. "I'm sure the book will explain."

The Dursleys had everything they wanted,

"Lucky them," came the unheard but bitter mumble from Harry, a smirk no longer present on his face.

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.

Once again whispers and murmurs broke out amongst the hall. How did the Potters know these people? And what did this have to do with Harry?

Umbridge smiled. Maybe now she might be able to place the brat in serious trouble. That is, if these people had a secret on the family worth hiding.

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 as it was possible to be.

While the passage answered who the Dursleys were, it only added more questions to some people's minds. Why would the muggles dislike the Potters? What was wrong with them? Only a few people in the hall knew why, and even fewer people correctly guessed the answer due to their own unfortunate experiences with their muggle relatives.

Harry growled internally at the thought of how his aunt treated his mother.

"Lily would have taken that as a compliment," said Remus, to the nods of most of the staff and the few guests who had known the Potters.

Harry smiled thankfully at his favorite professor.

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's nothing wrong with Harry!" came the supportive voices of Hermione and Ron, to the nods and yells of agreement by his yearmates and quidditch team.

It may not have been tactful, but they didn't care. Harry was their friend and deserved to be stood up for. Harry sent the two a small but grateful smile, though they could see the acceptance in his eyes. He was too accustomed to this treatment to outwardly care anymore.

Some of the halls less pleasant occupants merely snorted under their breath at the thought of nothing being wrong with "Potter", while others could understand how the Dursleys might not want to associate with a magical family, being muggles and all.

Penelope Clearwater spoke up, "I've got a bad feeling about these people."

Her sentiments were shared by most of the table.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey 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.

McGonagall gasped. "So, it's that day?"

Some of the adults figured out what day she was referring to and dawned looks of recognition and in many cases sorrow, while Dumbledore just nodded somberly. Molly and Andromeda looked worriedly over to Harry, while everyone else remained confused.

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 highchair.

"Brat," spat Ron while the Twins bemoaned, "Boring work-tie."

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

"There's nothing weird about that," mused Terry Boot.

"They're muggles, remember?" Kevin said, not unkindly. "My parents would've been a little surprised by an owl as well."

Terry nodded his thanks at his friend while a couple of nearby purebloods scoffed.

At half-past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Brat!" cried most of the hall, loudly among them Ginny Weasley. She was on edge ever since the reading started - for several reasons - and could already tell she wasn't going to like the boy, judging by some of the things she'd gleaned from her brothers.

Her mother sent her a look that she promptly ignored before sticking her tongue out when no one was looking. Or so she thought.

Harry had caught her act of childish defiance and smiled at the sight. The butterflies returned to her stomach full force and hurriedly looked away, but not before seeing the glare sent her way by the younger veela. She smirked victoriously at Gabrielle.

'Little tyke,' chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.

"They'll be a terrible influence on that child, mark my words," whispered Pomona Sprout to Rolanda Hooch and Minerva McGonagall, who nodded in agreement at the likely prediction. While it wasn't their place to judge so soon, and every parent certainly had off days, the book seemed to imply that this spoiling was a common occurrence.

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.

The staff's eyes turned as one to McGonagall while Harry dawned a look of understanding.

'She knew… Why did no one check up on me?' he thought bitterly. He had so many questions and realized this reading - painful though it may be - could help him get those answers.

"That is a little odd," Demelza Robbins said to the nods of her fourth year friends.

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.

"It is a rather weird sight – seeing a cat reading a map," reasoned Hermione. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Harry had an idea of what the redhead might have said and was thankful that his best mate was learning some tact.

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.

Theodore Nott made a note to remember that – Privet Drive. These muggles seemed to know the Potters, apparently.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind.

"A bit of a one track mind, huh?" mused Terry, and Anthony and Kevin nodded along.

As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. 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.

"…that's weird, how, exactly?" came the voice of Lisa Turpin. Most purebloods who had never taken muggle studies or bothered to learn about wizarding culture were thinking along similar lines.

Hermione and Penelope both opened their mouths to explain, but were beat to it by someone else.

"Muggles don't wear cloaks. It's extremely dated to them, and seeing it is like seeing someone dressing in a fashion that's nearly a thousand years old," came the learned reply of Muggle Studies professor Charity Burbage.

Some pureblood and half-bloods nodded in understanding, while a few scoffed. Whether it was at the blood-traitor of a professor or the thought of muggles finding their style dated, it wasn't clear. Harry, for the umpteenth time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, idly wondered why some of the Slytherins were placed in the house of the cunning when their true colors and feelings were often times so transparent for all to see.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people!

Harry snorted here, and the twins sent him amused grins.

He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.

"No, it's quite old, actually," Remus said, his lips twitching, but deep down he was a little worried. Why were they discussing the Dursley's in such detail? The particular day in which the story currently took place wasn't lost on him either.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.

"Who is he calling weird!" Zacharias Smith said as he narrowed his eyes at the book. Many in the room didn't bother hiding their distaste at being referred to as 'weirdos'.

They were whispering excitedly together. 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.

"What is going on?" inquired an amused Tonks. Far as she could tell, quite a few magicals were breaking the statute of secrecy.

Her boss, Amelia Bones, went to answer her question, but Mad-Eye barked out, "Use your head Nymphadora!"

'Well, that answers a whole lot,' mused half of the hall.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" Tonks grit out, her hair turning auburn, to the delight of some of the students and winces from the adults, her parents in particular.

The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

"That's a relief. Wouldn't want you to think about anything too complex or important, now would we?" Surprisingly, this came from Charlie. Though he'd never met the Dursleys and didn't know Harry all that well, he was considered family by his siblings and parents, and that was enough for him to dislike the man whom he'd heard a bit about from the twins. The books, so far, weren't doing Vernon any favors.

Molly shot her second oldest a look that said 'Shut it!', before going back to looking worried over how Harry may feel reading about this.

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. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.

Before anyone could open their mouths to question why this was, although some of the more practical purebloods and half-bloods knew, Hermione simply spoke. "Muggles don't use owls to deliver mail. We have mailmen and a delivery system to do that for us. Seeing an owl, let alone several of them is a rare sight because they're usually known to be nocturnal around muggles."

Surprisingly, there were no glares sent at the "know-it-all" by the Slytherins, as they either knew about this and remained impassive, waiting for the reading to continue, or were trying to imagine people and not owls delivering mail. Draco looked particularly lost in thought at the demeaning and foreign concept, and the two goons Crabbe and Goyle looked baffled… then again, that's an expression often found on their face, and it might just have been them spacing out.

Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning.

"Hear, hear," cried Fred pompously.

"I doubt the school's ever had one of those. Can you imagine? A day without owls," snickered Lee Jordan, shaking his head at the thought.

He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.

"Mmm. Productive chap, that one," said George, which got soft giggles and some smirks from the tables occupants.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road

Here, Harry's head shot up rather comically. He knew his Uncle's nature all too well, and the sorry excuse of a man didn't do any type of exercise just for the heck of it. In fact, he avoided moving his body as much as possible. Surely, something was wrong.

The others in the hall noticed the sudden movement, which also caused Dumbledore to momentarily pause and look at the shocked Harry. Realization dawned on his face, and his eyes twinkled before continuing.

…to buy himself several buns from the bakery.

Harry nodded his head in acceptance. "Ahhh. That's more like it."

Unknown to him, the students and adults who heard him found the whole scene rather humorous, now understanding the raven-haired boy's shock at the previous sentence. As it was, Harry was caught off guard when laughter sprinkled out throughout the hall.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione scolded fondly, even as Ron snorted into his juice.

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. He didn'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.

"Seriously, this guy is paranoid," muttered Leanne at the Hufflepuff table.

"What I want to know is why there are so many wizards around," inquired Hannah Abbott, though no one had the answer for her.

Susan felt she knew, and sent a cautious look towards her Aunt, then Harry. 'I hope I'm wrong.'

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"

"What're they talking about your family for?" asked a naïve and curious first year Gryffindor.

Harry turned to the younger girl and spoke in a soft and patient tone, though one could tell he'd rather not talk about it. "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

The girl smiled shyly in acceptance. Meanwhile, some people were getting tired of the constant interruptions. They'd hardly gotten through a single chapter and already it had been 15 minutes.

" — yes, their son, Harry —"

"That's you mate," Ron needlessly pointed out. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes.

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

Harry remained impassive on the inside, but internally a part of him wished that what the book had said was literal. He shook his head of those thoughts, melted snow falling from his bangs. No matter what they'd done to him, he was better than turning to such dangerous thoughts, but a soft voice inside of him, one that was not his own, told him that he knew he wasn't.

Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

"Careful, they might bite," sneered Roger Davies, though no one responded.

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…

"What's a telephone?" asked an interested pureblood Ravenclaw girl, and several others voiced their confusion as well. Their muggle friends or those in the know explained it to them as best they could.

"Rather over-reactive, ain't he?" spoke an amused Ron, still unaware of what the day was in the story. He was slightly miffed about Harry being talked about and being so famous even in the beginning of the story, but he buried the nasty thought.

"He's actually thinking," came the faux-astonished voice of Harry. He figured that if he was going to have to read about the man, he may as well get some cracks in while he could. This was met by snorts from the table's male occupants, even Seamus, as well as a worried look from Hermione.

…no, he was being stupid.

'Got that right,' came the thoughts of most of the hall.

"See, even he knows it!" cried Ginny, beating the twins by a second.

"Mrs. Weasley," scolded an astonished McGonagall. Ginny was normally so well behaved, but then the Head of Gryffindor saw how the girl bit her lip when Mister Potter turned away after giving her an amused look, and immediately understood the outburst. 'Oh, teenagers.'

"Ginerva Weasley!" Molly scolded at the same time as McGonagall, sending her unabashed daughter a look of warning. She was tense enough knowing what they were soon going to be reading.

Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

"If only," Harry spoke softly. He wondered what it would be like if he had blood relations in the wizarding world. 'How different would things be?'

"It is in the wizarding world," came the shy voice of Neville. His grandmother had him memorizing most of the pure blood families, though he admittedly forgot half of them by now.

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 'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.

"The man doesn't even know your name? What kind of relative is he?" asked a frowning Alicia.

Hermione scowled. Her family had grown rather distant lately, due to her feet being planted firmer and firmer in the wizarding world by the passing year - a world that her muggle parents couldn't share with her. Nonetheless, her family was still extremely close to one another and even her most distant relations knew her name and vice versa.

"Not a very good one," Harry responded to Alicia in kind, shooting the chaser a small smile, but many could see it didn't reach his eyes.

This worried his friends, and the Weasley's in particular scowled at the book.

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...

"There was nothing wrong with Lily," Emmeline Vance spoke out into the hall, to the verbal agreement of Professors Sinestra and Vector and nods from the staff and guests who knew her. There was a particular fire in the blonde witch's eyes Harry hadn't seen at Headquarters, and he felt gratitude for the pretty woman.

Padfoot bared his teeth at the book from his place under the Gryffindor table and Remus held back a rumble in his throat. Those who knew Lily were equally offended, but remained mute on the matter, choosing to glare at the book instead. Others in the hall were offended simply because of the way the man seemed to look down at wizarding kind as a whole, muggle that he was.

… but all the same, those people in cloaks…

"Seriously, enough with the hating on cloaks," muttered Miles Bletchley at the Slytherin table. He would rather wear them than those tight muggle clothes that Potter dressed in.

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.

"Ouch," winced the twins and Lee Jordon in stereo-sympathy to laughs from some of the hall.

Harry finally noticed the twins not-so-incognito attempts to cheer him up, and sent the two a small smile of thanks which they returned with dazzling smiles and thumbs up of their own.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.

"He knows how to apologize?" mumbled Harry. Luna and the others around him had caught it, and she frowned.

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. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare.

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

"So it's that day?" whispered an excited Demelza Robbins, to the nods of the adults.

Cheers went up from several people in the hall, particularly the younger years, not fully fathoming what this meant for some of the other families who'd lost people in the war, Harry in particular.

Amelia Bones frowned at how so many witches and wizards had gone about their celebrations that day. Her own family had almost completely perished during the war, and she hadn't celebrated like the rest of the wizarding world. She certainly hadn't flaunted magic in front of muggles.

"You'd think they'd have some modicum of restraint," Kingsley said, surprised the wizard had just come right out and said those things to a muggle on the street.

"It was a rough time," Ted reasoned from down the table. "People were in shock, overwhelmed. They weren't thinking clearly." He remembered his own overwhelming joy on that day, but felt a little bad for it in hindsight. Andromeda grabbed her husband's hand in support, remembering that day all too well, as did the rest of the adults with varying degrees of emotion.

Narcissa saw how happy her sister was with the muggleborn Ted and turned away from the sight with a cold look, only her eyes betraying her.

"Well that explains why everyone is flaunting the statute, I suppose," muttered an annoyed Tonks. She knew this couldn't be easy for Harry or some of the other people who had lost loved ones in the war.

Some people contemplated why the book hadn't yet described Harry's defeat of Voldemort and why the Dursely's were being focused on instead.

Others merely scolded the less tactful of their peers, fully aware that the subject matter they were entering required a bit more subtlety and empathy then had been displayed. Various DA members, staff, guests, and admirers looked at the stony face of the young man and knew that this would be a hard week for him, as his past was dredged up and thrown in his face. They only hoped that the end results made up for it all.

Harry stared stonily at the table. It might seem unusual to some that Harry felt so horrible talking and thinking about that day, when he was hardly a year old when his parents died. By all rights, he should be over it, calloused as that sounded. Except that Harry felt he was constantly reminded of them each and every day. Whether it was through what older people would see him as, with his parents respective features being called to the forefront upon introductions, or his dreams of them when he saw the Mirror of Erised as well as his photo-journal, or just his nightmares of their final moments thanks to the dementors encounters he'd suffered and the ghosts he'd seen in the graveyard... Harry had simply never been allowed to put them to rest, and this was just another painful reminder of the life he could have had.

Hermione once more grabbed his hand in a show of support.

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

"I'm astonished he could manage," smirked Seamus, and Lavender and Parvati giggled.

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.

"Well… when you put it like that," Penelope said. "It is a little unsettling."

Reluctantly people admitted she - and by extension Vernon - had a point, but no one looked pleased.

Percy gazed longingly at his ex-girlfriend, but turned away soon after.

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.

The twins and Lee cried, "Blasphemous!" effectively shaking Harry from his murose thoughts.

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.

"Yupp, that's definitely you Minnie," came the amused voice of Remus. He didn't want to dwell on that day and all of the mistakes that had been made in the days following, and like the twins (all pranksters think on the same general wavelength), he settled for distracting himself and others from the pain.

Minerva/Professor McGonagall shot an innocent looking Remus a look that clearly said that particular nickname was off limits in public, on pain of death. Of course the werewolf Marauder just smiled even more innocently, much to the Gryffindor's amusement. It went without saying that Snape sneered at the sight.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.

'She must give everyone that look,' mused the trio and anyone else who'd had the misfortune of being the receiving end of that particular look from the strict teacher.

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.

"Secrets hurt people," mused Dean, but Harry frowned as he thought about all the secrets he kept, even from his best friends.

He spared a glance at Fleur, who had more or less been avoiding his gaze since she'd arrived, something she was glad Bill hadn't picked up on. When the two gazes met, they quickly turned away, to the confusion of an intently alert Tonks.

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!").

'How many times have I heard that one from him,' snorted a reminiscing Harry. Dudley was about as spoiled as they came, though Malfoy may narrowly outdraw his fat cousin there.

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,

"Daddy, that was you!" came the voice of an excited Tonks, putting thoughts of Fleur to the back of her mind. Harry smiled at seeing her beautiful smile.

Ted Tonks blushed at his daughter's excitement, as she hadn't been old enough to recall his days working as a weatherman in the muggle world. He remained quiet, which made his loving wife Andromeda coo at him.

Umbridge clicked her tongue at the display.

"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 and fun night tonight."

Ted almost coughed. He'd been so excited that day, he'd all but promised some rather adult things to his wife when he got home. It appears it had slipped into his weather forecast by way of innuendo. Remus seemed to pick up on this, and oddly enough so did the black dog sitting at the feet of Harry Potter, judging by their matching lecherous grins, which frankly looked strange on a dog. He was just glad no one else, especially his wife and daughter caught on.

Ted didn't see Mad-Eye choking on his spit as his magical eye turned to the muggleborn and he grinned.

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…

"People seemed to have conveniently forgotten about all forms of secrecy that day", came the irritated voice of Madam Bones. She was irritated at the tactlessness being displayed that day, both because it caused the ministry problems, and people just seemed to have forgotten everyone that had died to reach that point in the war.

"Aye, but can you blame them Amelia? It was a day worth celebrating… for most." Arthur Weasley spoke the last part softly, knowing that it was equally a day of rejoicing and mourning. Mourning for the families who were too invested in the war to stop and grieve for their lost loved ones, like the Bones family and remaining Prewitts, as well as a day of loss for those who knew the Potters.

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.

"Bastards," muttered an angry Harry. He'd never forget what they had told him when he asked what had happened to his parents.

Those who knew Lily were angry at how her sister seemed to treat the mere thought of her and liked the Dursleys less and less.

Moody scowled. 'Lily was a great woman.'

True, she had a fiery temper, and despite her large intelligence she at times lost rationality, but she was a brave and caring person. To speak so ill of someone so bright and lovable, and coming from her sister no doubt? The adults were displeased, to say the least.

Snape sneered viciously at the book, but said nothing.

"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."

"Our crowd?" asked a partially amused but mostly offended Fleur in a complex display of emotions that made her angelic face scrunch up ever so slightly. Harry had to stop himself from breathing out at the sight and turned away, memories of the garden at the Yule Ball coming back to him.

"Their daft, love." muttered Bill Weasley, taking his girlfriend's hands in his own. "Bigoted and daft."

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?"

"They don't know your name or your age?" spoke an irritated Hermione and McGonagall at the same time and nearly the same tone. Harry blinked at the display before answering with a shrug.

"Guess not... They do now though," he finished upon seeing their faces, and surprisingly the faces of Molly and the other older female staff members, swell up.

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

Harry merely raised his eyebrow at the comment, amused, though he shouldn't have been surprised. He simply thought his name was rather common in both the muggle and wizarding world. Surely his Aunt could find something better to take her frustrations with her sister out on than his rather normal name… wait, this was his aunt. No, she couldn't.

"It wasn't before," commented Septima Vector. What went unspoken was that it was rather common now, in light of Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord. Several younger years blushed at their apparent namesake. The meaningful looks sent his way were lost on an oblivious Harry.

"Better than 'Dudley' any day of the week, mate," assured Ron. Harry smiled at his friend.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

Some of the boys in the hall coughed "whipped", which led Harry to snort. If only they knew how dominating Vernon could be if he felt the situation called for it. His eyes darkened.

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.

"Mind telling us why you were sitting at these muggles' house all day, Professor McGonagall?" came the sickly sweet voice of Umbridge. Anything on any of Dumbledore's supporters was a good thing for the feline-infatuated woman.

"I'm sure it will be explained, Dolores," was the crisp and cold reply from the Transfiguration teacher.

Further down the table, Trelawney was looking at Umbridge with a mixture of loathing and fear, having experienced the old toad's inquisition herself. McGonagall caught her gaze and held it, before giving her the smallest of supportive nods. Coming from the women who had never appreciated her sacred art and had always been rather open about it, Trelawney was shocked. However, she offered a tentative nod and thin smile in return. They might not have ever seen eye to eye on most things, but Umbridge was an enemy to both of them, and any support handed out was welcome.

Harry himself was wondering the same thing; 'What was she doing there all day?'

It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for 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.

More growls and murmurs were heard in the hall, and while Harry knew most of it was merely out of distaste at being looked down upon as something bad (especially by the purebloods), he couldn't help but feel as though some of it was out of support for his late parents. He hated blind sympathy, but honest appreciation and protectiveness towards his parents… Harry felt he could come to appreciate that.

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…

"The feeling is mutual, Dursley," sneered Cormac McLaggen from further down the table.

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…

"If only," came the soft voice of Harry. Only those at his table heard, and they continued to worry. Those who didn't know where he spent his childhood were curious to know what the Dursleys had to do with anything.

'Don't tell me he had to live with these people,' came the astute deduction of Mandy Brocklehurst. Her eyes narrowed; she had a sinking feeling that's where this was headed.

How very wrong he was.

More people frowned at the wording, some of the seventh years catching on to what Mandy had correctly assumed in her mind.

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.

The Twins whistled at that.

"Wow, Professor. Who knew you were so stiff and formal even while in cat form."

"Yes, legendary patience. Surely you grew a bit numb in the bum eventually though, right?"

"Unless, dear brother, she's so used to sitting on a sore bum that she's immune to it."

"Ahh, that is possible, brother mine. Though, what would bring about such a staunch familiarity to bum-numbness?"

The hall laughed at way the twins addressed their head of house, as well as the way in which Fred emphasized the words strangely... suggestively(?).

Molly and a red faced McGonagall opened their mouths to berate the boys, but the Headmaster wisely continued.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appearing 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.

"Someone's rather late," muttered a still somewhat cross McGonagall. It actually had been rather stiff sitting like that all day.

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.

Most of the students cheered at the mention of their esteemed Headmaster, though some sneered and even fewer questioned why he was there at all.

Harry again remained quiet, choosing to listen intently about anything that may have lead up to his being placed with the Durselys. It was rather clear that by this time the decision had been made. Question was – why, by whom, and with what right?

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 knew,' thought an amused staff, as well as an exasperated Potter, Moody, and Perenelle.

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.

"She is a little funny looking," George whispered to Fred, causing them to snicker and their Head of House's eyes to narrow.

He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

McGonagall 'humphed' in a rather childish manner that was unlike her to most in the hall. Pomona, Poppy, and Rolanda just smirked at their friend's antics. This reading was proving to have it's benefits if it meant showing a side to Minny that most rarely, if ever, saw.

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.

"Cooooool." That was the general statement of those in the hall. Even some of the more snobby students looked mildly interested at such a curious device.

He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Deluminator, 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.

"Wow. Did you make that device, professor?" asked a curious Demelza Robbins. Despite her developing looks, she had always been a staunch tomboy, particularly when it came to sports and devices and equipment. The twins and others were equally curious about the contraption.

"Yes, I did… it was a device formed out of necessity during the war with Grindlewald. Perhaps sometime, I may share it's origin story with some of you," came the polite reply from the Headmaster before he returned to reading.

Kingsley and Moody both briefly thought of how and why the deluminator, among other devices, was first invented during such a harrowing war.

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 deluminator 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."

Some of the students in the hall groaned, as apparently minor bets had been placed over whether or not the cat was, indeed, the very same Gryffindor Head of House. Others just rolled their eyes at the old wizard's antics, as though the meeting hadn't been planned beforehand.

"Gotta love Dumbledore's style," mused Dean Thomas.

He turned to smile at the tabby cat, 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.

"Spot on description," muttered Charlie Weasley, mirroring the thoughts of everyone in the hall.

"Oh-ho! They pegged you perfectly, Minerva," giggled a quiet Sprout. Her friend mock glared at her, causing the plump witch and the other professors to chuckle or smirk.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so… stiffly."

Some giggles were heard in the hall, but they were silenced by the look on the Transfiguration Professor's face. Even Snape allowed the smallest of smirks to form at his colleague and respected rivals mild misfortune.

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

Again, Harry wondered what she had been there for?

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

"Yes, why were you staying there all day?" asked Umbridge again, though this time she was simply ignored by the woman. This caused Dolores to click her tongue once more as she sniffed angrily at her self-proclaimed rival.

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

The students laughed or smirked at the brief similarity between the two very different women, but that quickly disappeared when their combined glares settled on the hall.

"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."

Amelia and the ministry officials around at the time nodded in agreement, McGonagall of the past mirroring their own thoughts on the matter. People were being far too careless that day.

Those who knew Diggle were also nodding in agreement – it sounded like something the man would do.

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

Both Arthur and Ted nodded, pleased the Headmaster saw things from their side as well.

"Eleven years?" Romilda Vane questioned. She hadn't know the previous war had lasted so long.

"It was a slow start, Misses Vane." Dumbledore paused his own reading to answer the fourth year. "Voldemort didn't fully come out and face the whole of the British Ministry and its citizens until perhaps three years prior, but the war had begun in the shadows long before."

Dumbledore was surprisingly grim when he spoke, and the adults knew why. Many people had vanished and disappeared and even died in the early years of the war, a shadow war, some would say.

In the contemplative quiet of the hall, Harry spoke up. "The same thing is happening again. Once more the ministry refuses to face facts and be proactive, and it'll be the innocent who suffer first."

Fudge, Percy, and Umbridge scowled at him but he paid them no mind, glad to see at least a strong majority of the students looked shaken.

"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…"

"Well, that'd suck," was the elegant thought of Ron Weasley

"Well summed up, Mr. Weasley," came the squeak from Professor Flitwick.

The Gryffindors and Ron's siblings laughed as his ears turned red.

"…I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"No." was the monotone voice of Harry. Some sneered at what they felt was an unsteady attention seeker, though not as much as one would have expected. Few shied away from the topic altogether, not wanting to dwell on such things. This mostly being the younger Hufflepuffs. Others accepted what Harry said as the tentative truth, and at the very least believed that there was something out there coming, even if it wasn't THE Dark Lord. This was the majority of the DA and most of the Gryffindors. The rest knew he was telling the truth and were solemn just thinking about it.

"Funny though," said Harry. "Here we are reading about him being gone, and a little time from now we'll hear about his return. I wonder what you lot will be thinking then. Some of you will be especially unhappy with the results." Harry said this with a pointed look at Fudge that did not go unmissed by the people in the Great Hall.

"Lies! All of it! You can drop the charade now, Mr. Potter, because when these books are done, we'll see you for the liar you truly are," came the screech from everyone's least favorite Defense Professor.

"Pardon me; I seem to be confused. Are you Harry Potter, or am I? Don't you think I'd know what happens in my own life! Why in Merlin's name would I be so comfortable saying Voldemort's back…" most of the hall flinched instantly. "...if I was lying and knew you lot were going to find out about it?"

Harry's volume remained relatively normal, but his eyes and his tone were anything but. He was tired of being called a liar, especially by that woman. Here they all were, about to read his life, and still they doubted his words?

'Well', he told himself, 'they'll know soon enough… unfortunately, in some cases.'

While many were surprised at Harry's calm but cold outburst towards the unlikeable Professor, they had to admit his statement made sense. What would he gain from continuing a charade if they were all going to find out the truth soon enough? While some still remained firmly against the notion, thinking this was a pathetic last ditch effort from the boy, others were now less sure.

Before Umbridge could compose herself, the Headmaster continued the reading and Fudge quieted her down. He himself was hoping his undersecretary was right, but something about the tone in which the boy spoke - the dead certainty of it - made him feel like he'd somehow made a colossal mistake.

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.

"'Seems so'? So you didn't believe he was gone even then, Albus?" Moody questioned his long time friend with a growl.

Upon seeing the shocked looks from the entire hall, Dumbledore sighed and responded. "No… no, I did not, Alastor. However, I didn't have proof of my theory, so I remained quiet on the matter for some time, knowing it would do no good stirring up fear and trouble when there was no immediate danger. In the meanwhile I searched and searched for the signs, and eventually, I found them."

This statement brought most up short, whether they were about to protest the man not saying anything on the matter, or if they were opposing the notion of Voldemort actually surviving. These books were 100% truth, and if one of the wisest wizards of their time felt like the most powerful Dark Lord of their time had survived, then who were they to deny that possibility. And what proof would he have had to justify a possible panic like releasing his doubts to the public.

Harry definitely saw the bitter but honest wisdom in Dumbledore keeping quiet. It was for the "greater good", in this case.

"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?" came the confused and startled voices of some who were still dwelling on their own thoughts.

"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.

"Clearly," came the dry opinion of Perenelle Flamel. The woman hadn't spoken before in the hall, and her voice subtly radiated both wisdom and power. No one aside from Dumbledore and Maxine, however, knew who exactly she was.

"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."

The hall's occupants shuddered, twitched, or in some cases shrieked at the name. That is, with the exception of Dumbledore, Harry, Remus, Perenelle, Moody, and Madame Maxine.

One by one several older purebloods in Slytherin cursed the use of the name, though some took note of those who hadn't flinched. They were all considered powerful people or were unknown but radiated power. The fact that Harry was the only teen able to do so in the room was definitely noted this time around, though it came as no surprise since he was the Boy Who Lived.

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."

"Though not anymore, it seems," came the amused and beautiful voice of the still un-introduced Perenelle Flamel. She stared directly at Harry, making him feel as though his entire soul's worth was being searched and measured. He remained staring into her grey eyes though, ignoring the desire to just look away. Finally she smiled at him and turned back to the book, leaving a slightly sweating Harry. Was that a legilimency attack… or something else?

The occupants of the hall wondered if the mysterious woman was talking about Harry, though the answer was rather clear for some. The Creevey brothers in particular stared open mouthed at Harry which had the teen fidgeting, much to Katie, Penelope, and Tonks' amusement.

A handful of people in the room were rather cross at the thought of their prospective Lord fearing anyone, especially a worthless half-blood and an old muggle loving fool, but those students wisely refused to comment on it.

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too noble to use them," muttered a surprisingly serious Flitwick.

"Only because you're too — well — noble to use them."

McGonagall and Flitwick shared a smile.

Some adults and students nodded at this. Voldemort was a man known to have used dark and archaic rituals to further his potential. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was what some would refer to as 'all natural'.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

"Oh, too much information," squeezed Lavender Brown. Hermione rolled her eyes at her housemate, while said school matron blushed heavily.

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?"

People's gaze immediately turned to Harry – specifically, his scar. Harry simply put his head on the table and blocked the incessant staring and muttering out as he always had. A part of him was growing angry, however, as he had been all year.

Tonks sensed this and began glaring for Harry. She was soon joined by his best friends, the three chasers, Fleur, the Weasley's and the rest of the table's occupants. Even Seamus and his other year mates joined in. Just because they weren't Hufflepuff's, it didn't mean that they weren't loyal. By now Seamus had been leaning closer to believing his once friend, and this reading only seemed to affirm his suspicions that there was at least something going on. He just didn't have it in him to apologize without knowing completely.

Harry smiled at his friends and acquaintances defending him from one of his worst enemies: his fame. Gabrielle and the elder Weasley brothers hardly knew him, but they chose to help him. It made him feel warm and dispersed some of the anger that had been building. He sent Tonks a thankful smile, and Dumbledore's eye twinkled at the display of loyalty within the group.

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.

'So she was there looking for answers… but how did she know Dumbledore would be there?' Harry was confused, and so were Remus and Sirius.

Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

'Sounds like Dumbledore,' thought Snape with a scowl. The love of his life had died that day and the man played coy.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.

Harry looked down at the table as Hermione once more wrapped an arm around him and leaned into his shoulder for comfort. Tonks took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes offering support. It doesn't always get easier talking about someone you've loved being gone. Ron stared sadly at his friend.

Others - those who knew and liked the Potters - simply looked on in sympathy or, in some cases, denial, at the events that transpired that night.

Of all the people expected to last through the war, the Potter's were at the top of the list. Both were incredibly smart and powerful. Naturally talented in multiple areas of magic, they were some of the Order's very best duelers and were some of its youngest. Their marriage and their then-recently born son were a symbol of hope and of the future for the Order and the light. Learning that they had fallen that night was a deep blow to all who knew the couple, the Marauders being crushed most of all.

The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."

Snuffles whimpered under the table, and Harry petted and soothed his godfathers thick fur. He wasn't an idiot, and knew that the amount of hurt he might feel about reading this was no more than the pain Sirius shouldered. Or even Remus. They'd both lost their families that night, and in Sirius' case, he'd lost his freedom, his name, and almost his sanity.

Around the hall, several girls were looking at their crush with a sorrowful look. While many of them may have consciously wanted to know more about their idol and hero at some point, none of them felt that this was the right way to do so. Still, he looked almost beautiful - noble - as he seemed to be in a trance; staring at the table with those watery emerald eyes, and petting the dog at his feet, just visible between the aurors legs. He looked surprisingly peaceful all thing considered, though the amount of sorrow in his eyes offset that image. They only wished they could be holding his hand at that moment, and offering him comfort.

Remus was feeling rather emotional himself at the moment, and those at the staff and guest tables offered him looks of sympathy, knowing what James and Lily meant to him. He'd lost his entire family that night, and while he'd gained back Sirius and Harry, none of them would ever come out the same. And James and Lily… he held it in, as Ted patted him on the back across the table.

Snape was an emotionless mask, but inside his heart was slowly crumbling anew. He'd never consider it a sin to constantly wallow in his guilt at the thought that he'd played a substantial part in the love of his life's death. He'd remember what he'd seen that night when he visited Godric's Hollow. The sight of a lifeless, markless Lily, her brilliant eyes dull would remain with him… always.

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

"I still don't," choked McGonagall, so softly that only the staff could hear her.

They adults mourned the loss of their friends and pupils. Some of the younger professors who knew the two rather well (such as Sinestra, Vector, and Babbling) were more melancholy, as they thought about the cherished memories they had of the young couple.

Some students in the hall were feeling uncomfortable at the moment. This was clearly an emotional and personal moment, and most of them didn't know the people in question or the circumstances that lead to their death. Some shuffled guiltily, only now understanding that someone had to have died first in order for the Boy-Who-Lived to have gained his terrible moniker.

Narcissa remembered Lily, and while it wasn't well known, she had even studied with the slightly younger woman on a few occasions, the muggleborns talent for charms well known through the school at the time. She missed one of her few decent acquaintances, and she had to admit that she had crushed a little on the Potter boy as well. All that was gone now..

She looked briefly at her former study partner's son. 'He's all that's left of her; of that world I once knew, before the war. I can see the same strength in him. But… what does this mean for me?'

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily

The headmaster's voice seemed to have been weighed with a twinge of sadness, though he tried to cover it for the sake of the reading.

Luna turned her big, watery eyes to a silent Harry. "The ones we love never really leave us," she whispered. His eyes widened minutely, but he remained quiet.

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. 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."

Again, the looks returned, but they were far more conscious of their invasive gaze now, for which Harry was thankful. They all just wanted to know how and why he'd been the one to survive an un-survivable curse. Those who'd lost loved ones as well somewhat bitterly thought, 'Why him?'

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?"

"That's what many of us would like to know," spoke Kingsley Shacklebolt, with much of the hall nodding in agreement.

"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

'He knows,' was the thought on most people's minds.

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.

'At least they appear to have cared about them…' thought Harry.

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?"

Some of the students smiled up at the gentle Half-Giant.

"What's Hagrid got to do with this?" voiced a curious Ron.

"Shh, Ron. I'm sure it will be explained," was Hermione's impatient reply. Ron wisely chose to keep his mouth shut, but felt like Hermione was shooting down his rather valid questions and suggestions more often lately.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

The hall's occupants perked up at this. Why were they there?

Harry, of course, now knew the reason why.

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"What?!" came the reply from most of the hall's adults, and strangely enough, female population. The boys looked confused. From what they had read of the Dursleys so far, it didn't take a genius to see that their home-environment wasn't ideal in the least for a child, let alone a magical one.

Immediately, people started speaking in murmurs at the thought of the great Harry Potter being raised by muggles, and some of the more bigoted and close-minded purebloods actually took pity on the boy. Others were reeling, learning that the Boy-Who-Lived, whom many thought was an entitled attention seeker earlier on, spoiled on wealth and who lived in golden castles and fought dragons for entertainment, would actually be raised in a muggle home, and a seemingly unpleasant one at that.

"But those people are horrible," gasped a surprised Andromeda to the nods of her husband and some of the guests. The staff tried to remain silent, in support of their Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, but even they felt this was a poor choice.

"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!"

Harry was surprised but pleased to see the normally composed and stern Professor standing up for his well-being despite it not doing any good. He sent the woman a soft smile of thanks, which she responded with a rare, watery smile of her own. The thoughts of Lily and James dying was still fresh on her mind.

Harry then turned and spoke to Dumbledore, who was just about to continue reading.

"Out of curiosity, Professor, what right did any of you have to place me with the Dursleys? Wasn't there anyone my parents would have wanted to raise me that they'd have written down somewhere?" This question made the Hall pause, and several of the adults smile at the last Potter, as they were thinking along similar lines.

Everyone turned to Dumbledore, expecting his answer.

"Alas, a will was not found for either of your parents so you were technically a case of the state. As Supreme Mugwump, I was able to decide where you should be placed, and I felt that your family would be the best choice, seeing as certain other interested parties would undoubtedly want you for ulterior reasons, and those whom your parents might have wished to raise you were currently unavailable."

The response was smooth and logical, but far too casual for Harry's liking. It was rehearsed, and though Dumbledore likely placed him there for a good reason, it didn't negate the fact that it turned out to be a poor decision nonetheless.

Remus spoke up then, "I'm afraid he's right, Harry. While I would have loved to have raised you, seeing as I have a… unique case, I would have been denied immediately. And your parents knew few others they'd trust to raise you that were available. Loathe as I am to admit it, the Headmaster made a decision that likely was the best in that situation."

Harry mulled this over in his head. Not for the first time, he thought about how Lupin had never visited him, but chalked that up to no one but Dumbledore, McGonagall, and apparently Hagrid knowing where he truly was. But why hadn't Lupin confronted him when he had re-entered the wizarding world proper at eleven? He'd save this question, and many others, for later.

Unknown to him, Sirius was pondering the same thing.

Emmeline Vance remained quiet but flared feverishly at the Headmaster. She had sought young Harry our and repeatedly been rebuffed. Barring hexing the man and getting locked up somewhere, all her methods to get in touch with her friends child has been derailed. By the time the boy has resurfaced at Hogwarts, shame ate away at her and she did not know how to approach him after such an absence. Even over the summer, she had not said but a few words to him, her heart feuding with her mind.

"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."

Dumbledore looked up from his book to see the halls reactions, knowing they wouldn't like that line too much. He winced at the sight that met his eyes - practically everyone stared at him in shock, hundreds of faces twisted in various states of dumbfoundment. Exasperation came from the staff, incredulity from the guests and majority of the students, and loathing from his naysayers, who considered this yet another senile move on the "muggle lover's" part.

The silence was almost unbearable, but Dumbledore knew it wouldn't last.

"You WHAT!?" came the shouts from an irate Molly and a horrified Andromeda and Hermione. Being parents and or motherly in character, this was a rather unbelievable thing to hear. Who tries to explain such things to a muggle, a rather close-minded one, with a mere letter? The Headmaster of all people should have known better!

"Really Albus," Flitwick muttered angrily. "A letter?" Then he turned his diminutive ire to his fellow professor. "And you let him, Minerva!?"

The teachers then fell into a heated discussion behind a few silencing wards, with an unhappy Amelia Bones, Molly Weasley, and Andromeda Tonks soon joining them, followed by a more sedated but no less upset Remus, Arthur and Ted.

Emmeline Vance, sitting next to a visually surprised Narcissa Malfoy, simply sat stunned. Lily had been her friend in school, though they'd grown apart before graduation over an unfortunate development, and to hear that her son had been dumped on the doorsteps of these ridiculous muggles made her equal parts upset and sad, though most of the anger was at herself for not having done more for the poor boy.

"Booo!" Roared the Twins, joined by Lee Jordan and surprisingly Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom, as though the Headmaster had just commuted an egregious foul on the quidditch pitch. Soon most of the Gryffindors had joined in.

The rest of the hall wasn't faring any better. Harry in particular was torn between feeling rather small, knowing that the Headmaster didn't seem to care enough to even explain the situation to his relatives in person, and snorting in derision for thinking anything sensible would have occurred.

Then his common sense kicked in and he knew that if the old wizard had faced his close-minded relatives, it may have likely been far worse for everyone involved… they'd never know, he supposed.

More and more people in the hall started wondering what the hell was going on. This wasn't the life they'd expected for the Boy Who Lived. Not remotely.

Finally, Dumbledore had just enough of the protests and shouting from everyone, and silenced the hall with an impressive bang from his wand.

"I can only apologize so much. I did what I had felt was best at the time. As some of you will soon learn, we will be reading about many of our past errors and mistakes, and I would ask that you take after Mr. Potter's fine example and try to remain calm and attempt to be more understanding during this reading, knowing that what has been done cannot be changed."

The hall fell silent at this, and some realized that Harry wasn't blowing up over it. Certain people mistook it as a sign of Harry having enjoyed his childhood, and threw any concerns they had for "Harry"/"Potter" to the back of their minds.

Others, while finding truth in the old wizard's words, glared even fiercer at him, knowing that it was still a mistake worth calling him on, no matter how he spun it. Quite a few young witches fell in the latter category.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?

"I'd be curious to read that letter, Headmaster," came the neutral voice of Harry Potter, who stared intently at the wizard who struggled to meet his eyes.

"As would I," spoke Amelia Bones, her monocled eye narrowed at Dumbledore.

"And I as well," said Remus with a wink at Harry when no one was looking.

"Me too." Emmeline Vance's cold voice surprised some in the hall who were unaware of her ties to Lily Potter.

One by one, people started voicing their agreement, no one feeling pity for the aged Professor.

In order to stop the whole school from joining in and dragging it out, he stemmed the wave of band wagoners by promising to read it to any parties interested at a later date, in the hopes that they would forget this nonsense throughout the course of the reading.

His innocent hopes were dashed when he saw both Amelia and Emmeline writing notes down, as though to remind them of the topic. He winced and then something else drew his attention. His eye widened comically behind his half-moon spectacles when he saw a good number of Ravenclaws and Miss Granger likely writing something similar in their own little notepads.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dumbledore continued on.

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!"

"Unfortunately," mumbled Harry, though the entire hall heard it.

"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?"

"Well, when you put it like that… it does sound like it was ultimately the right thing to do…" trailed Hermione. Harry held back a somewhat fond snort. While the Headmaster's reasoning certainly made sense on paper (literally), leave it to his best friend to just accept a bit of logic from an adult figure and agree, regardless of how much she knew that he disliked his relatives.

"But not in the way he did it! I mean a letter, honestly?!" She scowled once more at the Headmaster and Harry blinked in surprise. Perhaps he had to reevaluate his best friend. Maybe she was changing - growing - for the best.

Harry smiled. 'She already was the best,' he conceded in his mind. Indeed, he'd be lost without the bushy haired bookworm. As a side note, he once again wondered why he kept getting so upset over the smallest things lately...

Others in the hall could see the merit in Harry being kept ignorant as well, and reluctantly nodded.

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.

"Eeeww," was the eloquent response from most of the halls girls.

Dumbledore merely chuckled at the thought. The image was rather amusing, and his eyes twinkled on.

The mothers in the hall, even Narcissa, looked very un-amused at the notion of a baby being hidden under those robes… dear god. And the more practical girls agreed. The boys just laughed at the image, as a blushing Harry playfully told them to shut up.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"Uh-oh," sounded a straight faced Charlie Weasley, unknowingly syncing with his sister Ginny. They had both seen just how, err, clumsy Hagrid could be.

The Golden Trio shared an amused look, thinking the same thing. 'How did Harry/I survive?'

"You think it — wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

Harry hated to admit it, but McGonagall had a point. Hagrid wasn't necessarily the most reliable person. But when he saw the hurt look on the half-giant's face, he couldn't stand it and spoke up. "Hagrid is one of the most loyal and hardworking people I know. True, he might have his slip-ups, but I'd trust him with my life if it ever came to it."

Hagrid beamed at Harry, and others smiled at the boys caring, knowing the half-giant had his faults, but knowing no one wanted to see him sad.

"Such a sweet boy," Andromeda cooed in her husband's ear.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"Ooohhh. Harry and Dumbledore think alike" the twins said in monotone.

While many smirked at the thought, for one reason or another, Harry found himself having mixed reactions. He knew the Twins were just having a laugh, but judging by the faces of his fellow students, they felt there was a bit of truth to the statement.

He wasn't so sure himself.

Dumbledore was and always would be a great wizard, with a style all his own and what Harry believed was an honestly good heart, but he didn't want to become synonymous with the man's goals. He was his own person. He had hidden a lot of his true nature from his peers, yes, but even in public he hadn't felt he'd been that relatable to the old man. Maybe, with these books being read, it was time to show more of his true self.

"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?"

"What was what?" several people questioned.

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 —

Several people leaned forward in interest, and Snuffles perked up at what he knew had been his bike. He missed that bike so much…

and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

"Whoa!" "That's awesome!" "A motorcycle? What's that?" Were the reactions in the hall. Arthur Weasley looked particularly excited.

"We have flying motorcycles in the wizarding world?" an excited Dean Thomas asked.

"Apparently," came the amused voice of Bill Weasley further down the table.

"I want one," Harry and Ron said in unison, blinking and then fist pumping.

"Oi! Don't steal our shtick," yelled George in mock indignation.

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.

Most of the students cheered at the introduction of the Professor and Grounds Keeper. Some students snorted at Hagrid's description, a few brave bigots even sneered, but the adults picked up on the mention of a blanketed bundle.

"You flew Harry over there? A one year old child, on a magical motorcycle, with you on top of it?" was the eerily calm voice of the overprotective Weasley matron.

"'E was perfectly fine, I promise yeh Molly!" came Hagrid's defense.

Molly huffed in response, and Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. God bless the dear woman, but she took her mothering too far sometimes. Harry was clearly sitting right there, perfectly fine. And if there's one thing he didn't need, it was any more coddling.

The entire order, the Weasleys and staff, even his friends lately: they all seemed to be smothering him. As though he were made of glass! He hated it. Only his godfather seemed to understand among the adult. Only Sirius… and Tonks..

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Yeah, where can I get one," came the excited voice of Ron. Other males and a few girls in the hall muttered their agreement at wanting such a bike, and Hermione rolled her eyes fondly at the look of longing on the red heads face.

Snuffles barked in pride at the attention his second favorite ride was getting. He says second, because Marlene McKinnon had been one hell of a girl. He turned melancholy at the thought that he would never see the enthusiastic witch again...

Harry heard his godfather whine, assumed it was about what had occurred that night and the fact that he missed his bike, and continued to pet him comfortingly.

"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."

Some of the people in the hall started at the mention of Black. Amelia Bones narrows her eyes, while Kingsley and Moody looked uneasily at one another - they both knew Sirius was innocent, but their boss didn't. What would she think when she learned the truth, let alone of their involvement in the revived Order.

Umbridge found herself wearing a triumphant grin as the passage was read. "Consorting with known criminals, are we? That's enough to have you questioned at the Ministry and perhaps an overnight stay in Azkaban."

"Oh, shut it!" was Harry's response, before Dumbledore or anyone else could tell the woman off in a more appropriate way. Sirius was a very touchy subject for him."This was before Sirius was ever charged with murder, so Hagrid wasn't breaking any laws. Secondly, the man never even had a trial, so the entire thing is a farce no matter how you spin it! There is no legal punishment for aiding an unconvicted man."

Some were surprised that the boy who was supposed to be a target of the escaped dark wizard was standing up for the mass murderer. Hardly a chapter into the story, and already they had so many questions.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at the boy. "Laws can be changed, Mister Potter."

While the hall recoiled at the statement, Harry didn't even blink.

"Yeah, your boss over there implied as much at my sad excuse of a hearing. Until you do change that law - and good luck with that, by the way - you haven't got a leg to stand on." Harry knew he may be going a bit far, but the fury was upon him.

Fudge stopped Umbridge from firing back, her eyes ready to pop they bulged so much. He was feeling a little worried that the boy was still defending Black. Surely, the confundus would have worn off by now? He'd find out eventually.

The students and some of the guests were reeling from Harry's heated outburst, but by now most were aware that the horrible woman deserved it. Septima and Aurora in particular wanted to kiss the boy for telling the toad what they'd wanted to for some time.

"Mr. Potter! Please, refrain from addressing your professors in such a manner," came the unexpected voice of McGonagall. A few of her own Lions joined the rest of the hall in sending her dubious looks. While she honestly agreed with her student, and admittedly one of her all-time favorite pupils, she had to keep order and appearances up. If one professor, no matter how loathsome, was talked back to in such a way, it showed students that they could treat any member of the staff without fear of consequence. That would be dangerous.

Now, normally, Harry would have just agreed and apologized halfheartedly. But he'd been feeling rather emotional this past year, and a fresh wave of anger surged in him at the thought of the insane toad-resembling woman getting her hands on Sirius. Gritting his teeth to keep his frustration from coloring his tone, he calmly spoke back.

"She'll only be considered my professor, professor, when she actually bothers to teach us something. Unlike you, Deputy Headmistress, I respect people – not their titles."

To say the hall was flabbergasted was an understatement. The Gryffindor golden boy talking back to his head of house? Some saw his speech as a sign of his fabled arrogance, mainly Snape and some of the more impressionable students.. However, most people in the hall contemplated what he'd said and saw the merit in respecting a person so long as their actions and manner dictated that respect was earned. McGonagall found herself shocked at the not so subtle jab from Harry, knowing it was regarding her actions towards him in the past, but she steeled herself.

"Nonetheless, that'll be 10 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Harry stiffly nodded his head back at the woman, and the reading awkwardly continued.

"Way to show her, mate," came the amused and supporting voice of Ron, just as Hermione bit back a remark against Harry for disrespecting the professors. She could tell he wasn't in the greatest of moods, and maybe there was some truth to his statement that she could apply to her outlook…

"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."

"I've never visited that house," Harry spoke softly in realization. He's always heard about that night, but he'd never visited the sight of his parent's demise. At the questioning or shocked looks from his peers, he answered the unasked question. "I'd never been allowed. Almost all my experiences in the wizarding world have been planned out for me in a sense…" here, he sent a look at the Headmaster who avoided his eyes, and continued, "So I haven't really thought of just upping and going there myself…"

"I'll take you… whenever you'd like," spoke Remus, with a sad smile. He had visited the site many times, but closure had always eluded him. Hopefully Harry would find there what he could not.

Sniffles let out a bark as though to say, "And I'm coming as well."

Harry felt he'd like to be alone for his first visit, but if he had to be accompanied by people he couldn't think of anyone better than his father's best friends.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep.

"Awww," came the reply from Tonks, Fleur, and the rest of the girls in the hall - even Luna. The same words were spoken at the Slytherin table by Draco and some of the quidditch team, but in a mocking tone, which Harry dutifully ignored.

Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

Some people refrained from looking at his scar, which Harry was thankful for. Still, that left 90% of the halls occupants staring at it… 'At least it's an improvement,' he mused.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

Harry absentmindedly rubbed the loathsome thing.

"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.

Silence met this rather awkward statement.

Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

"Get it over with? How kind," muttered a clipped Emmeline Vance.

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.

Snuffles mirrored the howl, Sirius still being upset over his reckless actions that night.

Harry comforted Sirius as he looked at Hagrid in thanks. The man had been there for him from the start, apparently. Hagrid smiled tearily back, lost in his own memories at the time.

"Poor Hagrid," muttered Luna.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"Wow, Professor," came Fred.

"Nice to know you cared," continued George.

While their banter was there, their eyes did look a bit disapproving at their Head of House, something she caught and blushed at. She had been a bit hard on Hagrid then, but she was just so baffled by it all and worried over Harry that she hadn't been thoughtful of the half-giants feelings.

"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 me on the doorstep?" came the amused voice of Harry. Others in the hall weren't so amused though, as the women of Harry Potter's life, even those whom he didn't know were IN his life, exploded on the old man's aloofness regarding a one year old infant.

"You left a baby, a known target no less, on a doorstep in late fall weather, at night, for anyone to take, harm, or kill?" came the incredulous voice of Amelia Bones. Further down the table, Emmeline looked ready to claw at the Professor, and even Narcissa looked unhappy.

"I made sure he was protected… the wards there, made by his late mother - they'd protect him so long as that was his home," came the sheepish response from the Headmaster.

"Wards or not, Albus, that was a rather stupid move," huffed a concerned Molly Weasley to the nods of Poppy, Pomona, and Andromeda.

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.

A soft silence was on the hall, as everyone contemplated the scene in their heads. Hagrid, a half-giant, shaking? The stern McGonagall tearing up? And the ever twinkling eyes of the Headmaster, going dim? It seemed so odd and foreign to most of the students in the hall, and the understood that they were internally mourning Harry's situation and the loss of their friends and allies.

"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'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.

"Did you ever return his bike to him," voiced the croaky but amused Remus. He didn't want to dwell on those thoughts of his loved ones dying any longer than necessary, and he knew that Sirius had missed his bike dearly. Padfoot perked up at this, shaking himself from similar thoughts.

"Uhm, no," came the sheepish reply from Hagrid. "I never got the chance to…"

Padfoot whimpered slightly, and Harry petted his fur in a sign of support and sympathy. This made those who knew Sirius and his true innocence even sadder. A lot of lives had been ruined that night, while the world spun on in celebration.

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 still want one," spoke Ron. Harry smiled at his friend, glad to see he wasn't treating this like a soap-opera for his sake, though he saw the sadness evident in the redheads eyes.

"Me too, mate. Me too," Harry spoke, and they clasped each other on the back softly.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall simply blew her nose in reply.

"Nice," grinned Lee Jordan.

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

"Wow. Definitely want one of those as well," spoke Ron.

"Well, keep talking about it and I'm sure you'll get one eventually," spoke a sarcastic Ginny, which caused the Twins to snicker.

"We shall see, Mr. Weasley. You may have your chance to own one, yet," was the aged headmasters amused reply.

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'll need it,' were the thoughts of many in the hall.

He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

The adults looked impressed while the Twins whistled in appreciation.

"That's a soft apparition if ever there was one."

"Indeed dear brother. Let it not be said that Dumbledore doesn't have style."

"Hear, hear."

The Gryffindors smiled at the pranksters and the staff at their bemused Headmaster.

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,

"Awww," came the girls affectionate sound once more.

"You really were an adorable young boy," spoke a melancholy McGonagall in a rare moment of tenderness.

Harry blushed at the attention as the girls cooed louder, and his dormmates smirked at his discomfort.

…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.

"Brat!" the hall thought as one.

"Horrid child," commented Madame Maxine.

He'd never know that enclosed in the letter was a check of a thousand pounds to pay for the treatment of himself monthly, nor that the Dursleys would receive similar and increasing pay his entire life.

"What!?" yelled Harry in shock. He had NOT expected this, though it made sense now.

"I know, that does seem like a lot for just an infant," spoke a surprised Hermione with other muggleborns in the hall agreeing.

"No, it's not the amount." He turned to Dumbledore. "You paid them to take care of me. Monthly?" At Dumbledore's shaky and confused nod, Harry sat back down in his chair with a thump, completely in shock.

"Harry, what is it?" questioned Tonks gently.

"They never… they never bought me anything. All my life, they spoke about how much of a burden I was on them, how lucky I was to be under their roof as they took their hard earned money and spent it on me… They were getting paid the entire time…"

The hall was shocked and some were even in disbelief. Surely, his childhood wasn't that bad… was it? Harry's friends internally cursed the Dursleys, while others began to piece his formerly shabby attire together, realizing he was telling the truth.

The female staff members and most of the guests turned to Albus with a glare, who in turn put on an "I didn't know" face. He had his suspicions, of course, which were more or less confirmed upon seeing Harry at the sorting, but that was all. He'd never concerned himself with checking up on the boy, knowing the wards would protect him from any outside danger, and sure that the boy would conquer any internal problems he'd face. He was, after all, his parent's son.

"I give you my word, Mr. Potter. When this business here is done, a thorough investigation into the misuse of your funds will be launched and the Dursley's will be brought to justice for their negligence provided with evidence." Amelia Bones was incredibly upset with Dumbledore, but settled for comforting the brave young man her niece seems to have taken an interest in.

Harry was struck speechless, but he nodded his thanks nonetheless. Someone seemed to have their head on right, and was sticking up for him. A small part of him wanted to leave the whole thing alone, having made it this far regardless of the Dursley's. A look at the determined faces of Hermione and the other women in the hall, however, told him this wasn't to be.

The hall settled and recovered from its shock, some awaiting the reading more than ever to hear about Harry's real childhood, with others not wanting to read any more of the boy's personal life. It warped their previous illusions about him too much for their liking…

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!"

Dumbledore marked the next page, and quietly closed the book. The hall was silent in contemplation. He cleared his throat softly. "Who would like to read next?"

No one volunteered. It'd hardly been a chapter and already most of their presumption about how the Boy Who Lived as raised had been shattered. It made quite a few of them stop and think about what they really knew about the boy. As the silence remained, Dumbledore was about to speak, but a raised hand stopped him.

"I'll read, Headmaster," came the voice of Andromeda Tonks. She hadn't known Lily well, but she had known James, and she knew that the couple were good people. If she was going to be here, she might as well contribute to uncovering the mystery of their sons past. She just hoped it got more pleasant as they read.

Levitating the book over, she opened to the marked page and took a breath before beginning…

Now, this is a rather big chapter and it's only the first. There are far larger chapters coming, and the reason they will all be so lengthy is because I am putting in the work. The reactions, how the characters all interact, their little anecdotes and side stories, that's all 'original' work will consistently easily outweigh the words written by Rowling in any given chapter. So long as I'm making an honest attempt at crafting an interesting, hilariously ridiculous, and hopefully somewhat moving story, I can't be convinced of the harm. If need be, I'll rewrite all of Rowling's words ever so slightly to avoid the issue, but I'm hoping I can avoid that silliness by stating here and now that it shouldn't be an issue to begin with. Try to be understanding of all this; PM me if there is an issue before you completely remove the damn thing.

Note that any changes - alterations or additions - to the canon story (which are emboldened) are also italicized. Admittedly, you won't find a whole lot changed this early on in the tale. Next chapter you'll see a few more changes and as the story goes on you'll see more and more of my AU elements come into play. By Harry's fourth year, quite a few things will have occurred differently behind the scenes, as many of the characters during the reading have already hinted at.

This story was largely made possible by the talented The Penitent Heretic who tells me he wrote this when he was still a young lad and has since moved on to original and far superior works. Give them a look-see, they're dark and brilliant. Thanks to his original effort (which was unceremoniously deleted during the purges, alongside shopaholic135's impressive 'Hogwarts Reads' story), I was able to rekindle this little fire, and thanks to no less than several dozen PM's, I've decided to give it yet another go. Cheers.