Disclaimer: In chapter 1, contains extracts of The Philosopher's Stone by J. K. Rowling

AN: please review

The Dursleys were a very normal family, they had a normal house in a normal neighbourhood of normal people. Vernon Dursley left for work, he was a director at a firm that made drills called Grunnings. When he reached the end of the street he saw something rather odd, a cat reading a map. When he glanced back at it there wasn't a map in sight, he quickly put the cat out of his mind and focused on the delivery of drills that was to arrive later that day. When he reached the edge of town his mind was directed away from drills.

Many people were wandering around in cloaks. He was so very irritated, the clothes young people wore these days was absolutely stupid. His sight fell on a huddle of these weirdos and he became outraged, some of them weren't young, an old man in a green cloak was stood amongst the others. Then he realised that they must have been collecting for some charity, yes that must have been it. He parked in the Grunnings parking lot with drills back on his mind.

Mr Dursley always sat in his office on the ninth floor with his back to the window and so, didn't see the flocks of owls flying past. He had a rather normal and productive day, he shouted at five people, made several important phone calls and shouted some more. He was in a good mood at lunchtime and chose to eat a bun from the bakery across the street. As he crossed the street he saw a group of those people wearing cloaks, there wasn't a single collection tin in sight. He glared at them as he bought an extra-large doughnut. When he left the bakery he heard them whispering.

"The Potters, that's what I've heard too."

"Yeah it was the son, Edward."

Vernon Dursley stopped in his tracks. He was about to say something before he reconsidered and dashed to his office. He had almost called home when he put down the receiver. Potter wasn't so uncommon a name and as for the boy, he wasn't sure either of the brats were called Edward, he'd never met his nephews. No, it would be foolish to tell Petunia, she always got angry and upset when her sister was mentioned. He found it difficult to focus on drills after that.

When he left work for home, he was so disturbed by the day that he barrelled into a tiny man in a violet cloak. "Sorry" he grunted.

A high pitched squeaky sort of voice replied. "Don't be sorry sir, nothing could upset me today! Rejoice for You-Know-Who is gone! Even muggles such as yourself should be celebrating." The little man hugged him around the middle and walked off. Mr Dursley ran for his car and rushed home. He became even more disconcerted when the tabby cat from earlier was sat on his wall. His best attempts to shoo the cat weren't enough and he entered the house in a slightly fevered state.

Petunia had had a nice, normal day. She told him about her day over dinner. When she had put their son, Dudley Daniel Dursley, to bed and was back downstairs with Mr Dursley he cleared his throat nervously. He tentatively started a new conversation. "Have you heard from your sister recently?"

He stammered when Petunia's angry gaze turned upon him. "No. Why?" She spoke sharply.

"Funny stuff on the news," he mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and lots of funny-looking people in town…"

"So?" she snapped.

"Well I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."

Petunia Dursley sipped on her tea with pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her that he'd heard the name 'Potter' earlier that day. Another glance at her still fury-filled face disabused him of the notion that it could ever be a good idea. Instead he said as casually as he could, "Their sons, they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so." Petunia said. She was still tensed.

"What are they called again? Ethbert and Howard, isn't it?

"Edward and Harry. Nasty common Saxon names, if you ask me."

Vernon's heart sank horribly. "Oh yes, I quite agree." The pair eventually climbed into their bed, after Vernon had checked that the tabby was still on the wall, which it was. While Vernon Dursley drifted to sleep, the cat on the wall stood as a silent sentinel showing no signs of weariness or tiredness.

A man appeared at the end of the street, so suddenly it would have seemed to be magic. Nothing like this man had been seen on this street, however that was not to say, of course, that nothing like this man had been to this street. He was tall, thin and very old. He wore long robes and a purple cloak. His name was Albus Dumbledore. He held up a small silver object and suddenly, one by one, the lights went out and the street was cast into night.

He came to the cat and sat beside it on the wall. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the cat, but it had gone. He was now smiling at a rather severe-looking woman with square glasses. She too wore a cloak, an emerald one. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

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

The pair continued to converse in the dark softly, no one else on the street, even if they had been awake could have heard or seen them. Eventually the conversation drifted towards a matter that Professor McGonagall seemed to have been wondering about. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so." said Dumbledore.

"The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" It would seem the Professor had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss. Dumbledore did not answer. "What they're saying is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went after the Potters. They say Lily and James were asleep and that he went for the twins first. That it was the boy, the older twin." Dumbledore nodded his head.

Dumbledore pulled out a little golden watch. It had twelve hands and little planets around the edge that were moving slightly and swapping places every so often. It must have made some sense to Dumbledore though because he returned it to his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here?"

The Professor nodded. "And why are you here?"

"I'm bringing Harry here, he'll be safe here with family and he won't distract his family from their main priority, Edward will need to be looked after and protected and that shouldn't have to suffer just for his brother." McGonagall was about to complain, her horror was evident on her face, as was the bliss and peace that followed shortly after, she hadn't seen the white wand made of elder hidden up Dumbledore's sleeve.

"Yes that will be best for them both." She nodded in agreement. A low rumbling broke the silence around them. It grew louder until it swelled to a roar. A huge motorcycle fell from the sky with an equally huge man astride it.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore sounding relieved. "No problems?"

"No sir, Lily and James were all sure, they wan' lil' Edward given the best chance, you know, can't have Harry here be bad for them all can we?"

Dumbledore peered into the basket. A bundle of blankets covered a baby boy. He had raven-black hair, competing with the night for its perfect shade of darkness. Under a tuft of his hair, on his forehead, they could see a cut which looked much like a bolt of lightning. Dumbledore wondered if this could be the mark, but he quickly ignored the idea, Tom had cut the Dark Mark into the arm of Edward, which was definitely purposeful, this cut must have been from the exploding cot.

The two professors disappeared suddenly and Hagrid took to the night air on his huge flying motorbike. Quarter of an hour later Albus Dumbledore was astounded by the appearance of a young woman made entirely of golden light.