AN: So, I got really excited that someone other than my sister actually showed up and checked out my stuff. Thanks guys! As a reward for my excitement, I've added this chapter as well, though if anyone cares, I'll warn you the updates are not going to be this fast from here on out, I had these three done before even putting this story up. So anyway...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just a cool wizard's hat from Six Flags.


Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat to catch everyone's attention.

"The title of this book is Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," she began, and flipping the book open, found the beginning of the first chapter. "Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived."

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."

"Aah," said Arthur suddenly. He turned slightly red though when everyone looked at him, realizing he had interrupted Minerva. "Sorry, but I just realized why they were acting so odd last summer when I had to pick up Harry for the World Cup. Carry on." He settled into the back of the settee, with his hands folded, as if to make up for the disturbance he had caused.

"Wait a minute!" Before Minerva could pick back up, however, Sirius chimed in, almost angrily. "So the story starts in Harry's fourth year? That's not fair, I wanted to hear about the years I wasn't around for!" He shook his head disappointedly. Remus just shook his head slightly at his friend's dramatics, though secretly, he was also slightly disappointed about not getting to hear about Harry's first two years at Hogwarts.

"Oh please!" Ron groaned, looking exasperatedly at Sirius. "Harry's always hated his relatives; you really think they started acting weird about magic in fourth year? I wouldn't be surprised if they were like that even before Harry moved in!" He rolled his eyes at the raised eyebrows he was receiving from many of the adults, though Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny were all nodding along with him. Seeing that no one was convinced, he turned to Minerva and gestured at the book. "If you keep reading, professor, I'm sure you'll see what I mean. If this isn't about our first year, I'll eat my Cannons hat!"

"Watch what you say Ronnie-kins." One of the twins said, the other one nodding along. "We might just have to hold you to that, if only to get rid of that abomination Harry bought you!"

"Besides, Ron, how can you be so sure it's first year, what if it's Harry's second or third year?" Ginny asked. She figured that since Hermione wasn't arguing with him, there must be solid proof that no one had noticed, but for the life of her couldn't figure out what.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The St-oof!" Ron was suddenly cut off by Hermione's elbow making contact with his ribs, and while he tried to get his breath back, she turned to the rest of the room, who were watching curiously.

"I'm sure you'll find out why we know, but just trust us on this, okay? Isn't that why we're here?" She said, looking pointedly back at the book. Seeing that they weren't going to explain any further, Minerva turned back to find her place on the page.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences spying on the neighbors.

Unfortunately for the Dursleys, the rather unflattering descriptions were met with a lot of affirmative nodding by those who had seen them, and abashed humor by those who hadn't, though the latter was mostly at the former's reactions.

No one seemed to notice, but Severus was also in agreement with Harry's description of his Aunt, though those unfamiliar with the dour man's sense of humor might not have interpreted the eye-roll and quiet muttering of "why am I not surprised" in that way.

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

Minerva interrupted herself this time, with a snort. "Well, only if he's changed drastically since the last time I saw him."

"When did you ever go to Privet Drive, Minerva? Albus told me it was unadvisable after he left Harry there, due to the possibility of surveillance from Death Eater factions." Remus explained hesitantly. He wasn't sure which answer would make him more upset; the idea that Albus had lied to him to keep him away from Harry, or the fact that even with the danger, Minerva might have been brave enough to risk it because she cared more about the boy than Remus must. He was therefore relieved when she answered him.

"Oh, no, no, Remus, I didn't go to visit Harry—Albus told me the same thing when I first asked—but I did do some…personal reconnaissance, shall we say, and I was not pleased with what I saw." She left it there, not willing to admit that the only reason she had shown any interest in Harry's Aunt and Uncle was a direct response to the night Voldemort had made his unfortunate attack, and hoping no one would push her for more details. Luckily, everyone seemed satisfied by that answer, and so she continued,

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

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

Severus snorted quietly in agreement with this last statement while Sirius huffed in complete disagreement, both earning humored eye-rolls from those nearest them (Minerva at Severus, and Remus at Sirius).

Were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

"Well, really, how can they say that about the boy before they ever met him?" Molly burst out, startled at how deep-set the Dursley's aversion to Harry's magical heritage was.

"More importantly," Sirius added, with a very grave face that gave Remus a bad feeling, "When is this? The book is going on as if the Dursleys think Lily and James are still….alive." His voice had become strained and much quieter by the end of this statement, and he hesitated over the last word as if it pained him to even think about that time. The room became quiet as everyone stopped to think about that observation, and what it might mean.

Not liking the change in mood, Minerva decided to just continue reading, while also hoping that her slight bluff didn't end up getting called by the inanimate object in her hands.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country.

Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work,

Severus rolled his eyes, thinking that it was so typical of Petunia to go for the blandest personality in a husband. Considering Lily had chosen almost the completely opposite qualities to marry, however, he shouldn't have been surprised.

And Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

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

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.

The twins looked at each other, shocked, then blurted out simultaneously, "Little? Are we sure Harry didn't inherit his eyesight from his uncle?" Everyone chuckled, but then many of the students started laughing as Ginny reached over from her chair and smacked them both on the head.

"Idiots! He must have been little at some point. It's not like he was born the size of a…what did Harry say again...a killer whale." She shuddered at that idea, while Neville looked slightly sick at that suggestion, and the adults were all still chuckling at the twins' outrage over someone adding logic to the situation.

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.

"You mean besides his own family?" Ron asked sarcastically, while Hermione tried to stifle her giggles.

A cat reading a map.

"Oh." Ron blushed, causing the rest of the teens to attempt to stifle their own chuckles.

For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.

Minerva's voice here became slightly strained, as she tried not to give any indication that she recognized the cat or the day, even though she was pretty sure of the identity of both. She must not have done a very good job, however, because while the teenagers and the elder Weasleys didn't seem to notice anything, Severus, Remus, and Sirius were all looking at her with narrowed eyes, and Minerva was sure that if Sirius had been a dog at the moment, he would have sniffed the hem of her robes suspiciously, trying to find what she was hiding.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards 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. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.

Neville was confused; he thought cloaks were something very traditional in wizarding families. In fact, his Grandmother always liked to brag about how her nicest cloak had been a wedding gift of her Grandmother's; she wore it only on very special occasions, and talked about how, whenever Neville ended up married, she would pass it on to her oldest granddaughter. Neville didn't like to think too much about that, though, since the whole idea was overwhelming. After all, he hadn't even taken his O.W.L.s yet! Instead, he turned towards Hermione to ask her about this Mr. Dursley's opinion when he noticed that the only other person looking confused was the strange Luna girl who had shown up after him. Not wanting to seem stupid in front of so many professors, adults, and classmates, Neville decided to just live without the answer and ask Hermione later in private.

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

Luna cut in suddenly, sounding as if she was thinking out loud. "Green is actually quite a nice color for a cloak; I would enjoy wearing one like that."

Ron snorted. "How can you say something like that?" He asked while raising his eyebrows at the blonde, who continued staring vacantly at the cover of the book in Minerva's hands. "The only thing the color green reminds me of is the house of all the evil, slimy gits like Malfoy." Before Severus could come to a cutting defense of his house, however, Luna turned her bright eyes on the Gryffindor, with a faint frown line forming on her forehead.

"Actually, while it is true green has many negative connotations, it has also been used to represent acceptance, rebirth, and nature. It would only be fitting to wear it on the day of renewed peace for Wizards, and I'm sure many of the Slytherins embody these traits as well. It is probably very calming and quiet in their common room, allowing for some good studying." She smiled faintly again, as if contemplating how nice a quiet study area would be.

Ron opened his mouth to disagree, but was stopped by Hermione's hand gripping his shoulder. When he looked at her angrily, she hissed, "Nobody knows about the polyjuice! They're going to wonder how we know what the Slytherin common room looks like if you keep arguing." Conceding to her point with an annoyed shrug, Ron looked back at Luna grumpily, not liking the fact that it appeared as if he had lost an argument against someone not entirely sane.

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.

Sirius shook his head wonderingly; it was amazing how muggles rationalized things away sometimes.

The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning.

"Well, I will give the man some credit," Bill said amusedly, "He is very dedicated to his job, and seems to enjoy it as much as Dad here does." This statement received chuckles while Arthur sent his eldest son a mildly insulted look, not enjoying being compared to the unpleasant man he had met a year ago.

He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the streets did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.

"How do they get any post then? Do they have some other animals to deliver it?" Neville looked extremely confused by this point, never having been exposed to much muggle culture, and not having taken Muggle Studies, as his Gran thought that was one of the 'softer' subjects not worth the time or effort, since it wouldn't get someone very far career-wise.

"Actually, they employ other muggles to deliver the post, Neville, after it is all sorted by region. Each person has a set area to distribute the appropriate letters to, and to collect out-going letters from, and everyone has to pay the government for the service." Hermione attempted to explain quickly, without confusing anybody further. This didn't seem to work, even though Neville nodded slowly and while he gestured to his Transfiguration professor to continue, some could still hear him mumbling under his breath about "not very efficient for long distances."

Meanwhile the adults had all shared surprised glances with each other, all remembering of only one occasion that had caused such an obvious lack of regard for the statutes of secrecy. All, that is, except Minerva, who was becoming more and more worried the longer she read, and didn't think it would be easy to hide from all the observant people in the room.

Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

At this, the twins looked at each other briefly, then caught Ron's eye, the latter of which grinned and said, "Are we really surprised at this point?" This just caused his identical older brothers to snort into their arms, rather than laugh out loud, as the adults were looking very solemn all of a sudden, though none of the students seemed to have realized the significance yet.

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.

"Sorry to burst your precious bubble there, Dursley" Sirius sneered, in an attempt to somehow release the tension slowly building in his mind and body.

It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

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

"- Yes, their son, Harry -"

Sirius cringed visibly at this fairly solid confirmation of their theory. He felt a shaky hand descend on his shoulder and squeeze supportively, and he assumed Remus understood exactly what he was going through at the moment, and was reliving his own memories of those few days.

At the same time, it seemed the students had finally realized what was going on. Hermione's eyes had widened, and her hands were covering her mouth as she looked at the last two direct links Harry had with his parents. Bill's sudden stiff posture seemed to have tipped off Ginny, who was whispering quietly to Luna, presumably explaining why people were so affected. Neville's face had gone slightly pale, and he was shaking faintly, making Ron turn to him in concern. The shy boy waved off his dorm mate, however, since only half of it was something the other teen could understand. Yes, he felt sorry that Harry had had to go through that, and understood the significance of that day in the long run, but what was affecting him more was the fact that he realized this was only a short time before Bellatrix and her goons had gotten a hold of his own parents and stolen his own blissful childhood along with their sanity.

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

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name"

Sirius sighed, unsure whether this stroke of logic in Vernon Dursley was cause for celebration or not. On the one hand, that meant he wasn't a completely hopeless guardian for Harry, but on the other, if he was smarter than he looked, what did that suggest about Harry's home life and the boy's aversion to his relatives?

He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure his nephew was called Harry.

"That's despicable." Neville said quietly, still affected by his own reckonings of the past. However, as the atmosphere was still so subdued and quiet, it sounded oddly forceful echoing through the silence. When he realized this, his face flushed and he quickly elaborated. "I mean, I may not enjoy the company of all my relatives, but at least they all know my name, and correspond with Gran over the holidays."

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

Ginny scrunched her nose upon hearing this, but unfortunately for her, Ron noticed and started laughing.

"What's the matter, Ginny? You wouldn't have wanted to marry the great hero of the wizarding world if his name was Harold?" This caused the twins to snigger almost uncontrollably.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that…

"Well, really!" Minerva huffed, getting quite fed up with the constant sniping at Harry's parents. "It's not like Lily ever pretended not to have a sister, and she certainly never hid her own heritage!"

But all the same, the people in cloaks…

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.

"Okay, I take back what I said about his work ethic," Bill grinned again.

"Psshht! Bill, come on!" Fred scoffed at his older brother, a smile planted back on his face. "You can't tell me you're so dedicated to your job…"

"…that you wouldn't have been even more distracted that day, what with all the useless frivolities going on." George finished off the thought with a distinctly Percy-like attitude, and his nose upturned ridiculously. Unfortunately, as this was true, all Bill could do was blush and shake his head at his brothers' antics.

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

It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

"And here I was thinking Ron lacked tact!" Ginny sniggered, avoiding the fist aimed at her shoulder from said brother, while Molly, Arthur, and the professors all shook their heads exasperatedly at the complete lack of trying to stay inconspicuous around muggles.

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

Hermione suddenly frowned, and turned to Minerva, "Umm, Professor, why exactly were wizards celebrating so obviously in muggle neighborhoods? Surely there are magical areas that can hold a lot of people or parties, right?" The older women looked up suddenly, as if never having thought about that before.

"Well Ms. Granger, of course there are places like that, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley being a few examples. Why?"

"Well, it just seemed kind of odd that so many witches and wizards were essentially loitering around a muggle office building for no other reason than to gossip. The owls I can understand, since they were heading between places, but the people standing in the street just don't make sense." At this, everyone looked surprised and puzzled, realizing Hermione had a very valid point. After a few minutes, it was clear that no one could come up with a reasonable answer, and so with silent agreement, Minerva continued reading.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

"Well, I guess that explains the boring tie and monotonous thoughts about drills, at least." Ginny said sarcastically, while pointedly ignoring the twins dramatic gasps and outraged faces upon hearing about Mr. Dursley's lack of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

Minerva was sure she could feel at least two pairs of questioning eyes on her, and a quick glance up told her it was Severus and Remus.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.

This time a very audible snort caused Minerva to look up, expecting either Remus or Sirius to have something to say. However, neither man was looking at her. When she followed their glances, she saw a smirking Severus looking at her with one eyebrow raised, apparently enjoying himself immensely.

"So that's where you were all day, Minerva? I had numerous students asking me for your whereabouts throughout the day, and I must say I'm surprised you decided to forgo your professorial duty in order to watch muggles." Having said this, Severus leaned back in his chair to watch the confusion unfold.

Indeed, it seemed like no one other than Remus had caught on fully as to why a cat would be behaving so humanly, and watching Sirius Black and most of the red headed menaces gape like a fish with a combination of shock and wonder on their faces was something Severus was enjoying quite a lot.

Before anyone could get their wits back enough to pester her with questions, however, Minerva shot a fairly harsh glare at Severus and quickly continued on with the story.

Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.

"Oh, yes, of course! I see cat's glaring at me all the time!" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, suddenly coming out of his surprised stupor.

Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

"Well, at least we know who wears the pants in that family." Bill snorted, sliding a quick glance towards his parents which—luckily for him—went unnoticed by everyone except his siblings, who tried not to burst out laughing.

Mrs. Dursley 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").

"I'm surprised it wasn't 'mine', the way Harry goes on about him," Hermione whispered to Ron, who smirked and nodded his head.

Mr. Dursley tried to act normal.

"Tried being the operative word there," Ginny muttered under her breath. "I don't think that man has been normal a day in his life."

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 patterns."

"I think they were talking to the wrong experts then," George whispered to his twin, causing both to snigger quietly in an attempt to not draw Minerva's attention from reading.

The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Arthur huffed. "With all the commotion being broadcast on the muggle news, I'm surprised we didn't have to send out Obliviators to do more damage control."

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…

"Well, Arthur, it seems like there should have been more damage control, if even someone like Vernon Dursley could figure it out." Molly said, a little disgruntled at the fact that this man continued to bad mouth the Potters, whom she had heard were some of the most gracious people ever in the Order.

"But Mrs. Weasley, you have to remember that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were already aware, at least a little, about the Magical world, so it might have been easier to figure out." Hermione said reasonably, causing the older woman to nod grudgingly.

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry you have to suffer through unsatisfactory tea!" George rolled his eyes, but was whacked over the head by his twin, who retorted,

"Really, Forge? Can't you tell he was talking about Petunia, not the tea?" Seeing what looked like the beginning of a fight (mockery or not), Minerva cleared her throat to interrupt the two and kept reading.

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.

"Vernon Dursley is one thing," Molly sighed sadly, "but hearing about Lily's own blood sister reacting like that at a mere question is so sad." She briefly pictured the face of her third-oldest son, Percy. For all she knew, that's exactly how he lived now, and she could commiserate with how Lily must have felt in the years leading up to her death.

"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.

Severus raised an eyebrow at this. He knew for a fact that Petunia had not been a stupid child, so how could she not understand the implication that even her imbecile of a husband was putting together? Unless she did understand the insinuation of magical culture into the muggle world for a day, and was simply refusing to acknowledge it. That would be more to Petunia's behavioral tastes, if he remembered correctly.

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

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dare tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare.

There were more stifled sniggers and surreptitious glances from all the Weasley children to their parents at this, though judging by Arthur's small sigh and slight smile, it was not totally unnoticed this time.

Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now wouldn't he?"

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

"…but she doesn't know for sure?" Hermione had been quiet for some time now, but hearing this almost broke her heart. If the Dursley's didn't even care how old Harry was, how could they possibly do anything for her friend's birthdays or other milestones? This was especially important to Hermione, since she had grown up the only child of two highly devoted and loving parents, and she still had trouble imagining Harry living in a place where people were so blasé about his presence.

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

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

"This coming from the woman who named her son Dudley?" Sirius couldn't seem to contain his outburst any longer.

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

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

"What were you waiting for, professor?" Neville asked tentatively, having decided the previous reactions were conclusive enough for him to believe the cat was indeed Minerva. "I thought you were simply watching Harry's relatives, and if they're all asleep…" He trailed off with a confused expression, but his question had caught the attention of others, who were also looking at Minerva for an explanation now. Instead she simply sighed.

"If my memory of that night serves me correctly, Mister Longbottom, you will find that out soon enough." And without any further ado, she turned back to the book, praying this chapter would end sooner rather than later.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

"Yeah, well, just imagine how Harry feels, you great lump." Ron mumbled under his breath, resigned to the fact that this was how Harry's stupid uncle would be acting for awhile, having met him on more than one occasion, after all.

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.

"Well, of course, but you're not factoring in Harry's luck." Ginny said, for all appearances talking directly to the Vernon Dursley in the pages of the book. The adults refrained from saying anything about this, however, on account of the agreeing nods being shared by not only Harry's two closest friends, but the twins and even Neville as well.

The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them

Bill cringed. He had never considered himself a superstitious person, but… "That's almost begging for something to happen to the Dursley family," He said. Especially—as Ginny had pointed out earlier—factoring in Harry's luck, or lack thereof.

How very wrong he was.

The eldest Weasley nodded to himself, though not happy that he had been proven right as everyone else, minus Minerva, groaned.

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.

"I always knew you had to have the patience of a saint, Minerva, especially after surviving us for seven years." Remus shook his head fondly while glancing at the cat Animagus, who nodded back at the werewolf with a smirk and simply continued to read.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.

"What is he, a daisy?" Fred exclaimed to various eye rolls.

The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

"It's alive!" George then yelled, not willing to be outdone by his twin.

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 sparkled behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

The man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

"Well finally, we're getting to hear about someone other than a rude muggle!" Bill sighed in relief, while many others had suddenly sat up in their seats, since Dumbledore's presence probably meant that something relating to Harry was finally going to occur.

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.

Upon hearing this, Minerva snorted disbelievingly, and was joined by pretty much everyone in the room, minus Neville—who wasn't quite comfortable enough yet with everyone to blatantly laugh at the headmaster—and Luna, who was smiling slightly but seemed more content watching everyone rather than participating.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

"That seems to imply that he was not expecting you, Minerva. Were you there for your own curiosity?" Arthur asked.

"Well, there are only so many places one can have an uninterrupted conversation with Albus, you know. I wanted to get as clear a story as I could, considering what a sad subject it involved. I was also sure that Albus would have to visit Lily's relatives at some point, though I did not know why exactly he was there that night until later." She answered, her eyes narrowing as she remembered her disapproval of Albus' solution for Harry's living situation.

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.

"Well, that's useful, though not something I've heard of before." Remus said, with his eyebrows raised.

"You think Dumbledore would let us have a look at it if we told him it was for research?" George asked his brother in an undertone.

He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer,

The twins snorted, "Hah, we could come up with such a better name! Doesn't Dumbledore know it's all about the labeling?"

Until the only lights left on the street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.

If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment, he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"That just makes you sound like a bird, Professor." Ron said, somewhat obliviously. When he noticed the stern look said professor was sending him, his ears turned bright red and he hunched down in his seat, muttering, "Blimey, it was just an observation!"

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

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

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

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

"Wait…didn't Professor Dumbledore apparate there? How could he have seen anyone, let alone multiple celebrations?" Ginny asked suddenly, bringing everyone to a halt while they thought about that. Clearly not coming up with any feasible explanation, Minerva simply coughed and kept reading.

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be 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 Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid.

"What a high opinion you have of muggles, professor!" George said, raising one eyebrow in a respectable imitation of the potions professor, earning a glare from his Head of House.

They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars in Kent -I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"Oh, Forge, it looks like her opinion doesn't merely include muggles, even some wizards are given such a high regard!" Fred blurted now, overly dramatic with a hand over his heart, and glancing up at the ceiling, not to be outdone by the glare sent to his brother, and he wasn't disappointed.

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

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are becoming downright careless, out on the street in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't so she went on, "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"Well, at least Professor McGonagall kept her own advice about not losing her head," Ron sniggered to Hermione, who merely shot him a sharp glance, having gotten very engrossed in the story, knowing that Harry would probably be showing up soon.

"It certainly seems so," Said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

Minerva shook her head, "if that man is simply 'fond of' those wretched sweets, then I'm the Minister of Magic."

Sirius smiled, shaking his head. "Don't sell yourself short, Professor, I'm sure you'd do a much better job than Fudge is at the moment." This got Luna to turn her eyes towards the `Transfiguration Professor now glaring at Sirius.

"Oh, are you going to be running, Professor? Don't worry, Daddy will definitely be on your side, I have it on good authority that he will soon be publishing a story about how Minister Fudge has a secret vendetta against the goblins, which won't help his image much at all."

Instead of answering the ridiculous question, Minerva gamely tried to read loud enough to be heard over the laughs coming from the teenagers' direction, and eventually everyone settled down again.

"No thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."

Minerva was not the only one to flinch at this, though she had not hesitated before actually saying the name (she had known Albus would say it after all). Neville had almost jumped straight off the couch he was sharing with Luna and Ginny, both of whom had shivered slightly.

Remus and Sirius simply looked resigned to the fact that that would probably be happening often, with Harry's penchant to ignore the moniker taboo. Finally, Severus had not so much flinched as he had winced, almost as if hearing the name caused him pain, though he didn't think anyone had noticed, since he wasn't getting any odd stares, not even from the Marauder duo across the room.

Hermione had flinched as well though she had been preparing for this for most of the chapter, but before she could point out to anybody (namely, Ron, since he was sitting next to her) that they should have expected this, Minerva continued reading.

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."

Having had very similar reactions once again when the name was mentioned, Hermione was getting aggravated, mostly because Ron had elbowed her every time he jerked at the sound of the name, and at this rate, her ribs weren't going to last through the first book. So, when Minerva paused to take a breath, she jumped in before the Professor could resume.

"This is ridiculous! Ron, you shouldn't even be flinching, Harry uses the name all the time! We're never going to get through even the first book if this happens every time the name is read out loud, and trust me, with Harry, it is said quite often." Seeing that no one could seem to come up with a response to this, and Ron was glaring at Hermione for calling him out, Minerva asked,

"Well then, what would you suggest, Ms Granger?"

Hermione flushed and looked down. "Oh, umm, I'm not sure, Professor, I was just trying to point out that flinching over a name like that will be pointless while reading these books, but I guess there really isn't anything we can do but get it over with quickly…" she trailed off weakly, glancing around. Seeing this, Remus decided to help the poor girl out.

"I agree with your theory, Hermione, but it's not really possible to just change a behavior so ingrained in a culture like this one is, but how about we all agree to work on it as the books go?" Here he turned to the rest of the group, and when all of them nodded, he turned to Minerva and gestured that she could continue.

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

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

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

Hearing this set off the five youngest Weasleys into fits of giggles, while Hermione just shook her head in disbelief at their immaturity.

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 everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

Those few sentences effectively brought everyone back to the reality of what was coming and snuffed out the good mood as quick as Albus' Deluminator snuffed out light.

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 a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"When he's in that kind of mood, he's impossible to get anything out of." Severus grumbled, commiserating with Minerva's plight in the book.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "Is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter…"

The hesitation in Minerva's voice was not for the benefit of the words on the page, but rather she was remembering the grief she had felt that night, and was doing her best to keep it at bay in order to get through the wretched chapter. As it turned out, she managed fairly well through the next half a page or so, with only a slight thickening of her voice betraying her emotions.

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

It was Sirius and Remus that flinched visibly this time, though nobody really noticed because they all had their heads down, in a short period of silence out of respect for the late Potters.

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

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

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

By this time, Molly had teared up and was leaning against Arthur, who was shaking his head sadly and patting her on the shoulder. Sirius had his head in his hands, slumped forwards and not looking at anybody, with one of Remus' arms on his shoulder as the werewolf was staring at the ceiling, blinking much too rapidly to be natural. Severus was trying to be as stoic about the experience as Minerva was, and not surprisingly he was doing a better job, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded staring stonily at the wall facing him. Anybody who didn't know better would have thought he was angry about the scenario, but in reality he was grieving in his own way all over again for Lily. The teens and Bill were very quiet, out of respect, for even though they had never met the Potters, they knew the effect this one event had on not only Harry, but the rest of the Wizarding World as well.

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 the 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."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

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

Ron couldn't help it. He snorted, and when Hermione turned to glare at him, he whispered, "You know it's true Hermione. Harry swears Dumbledore avoids his questions every year, and why would he do that if he wasn't hiding something?"

Unbeknownst to either teen, Severus was having very similar thoughts, since he had known Albus longer, and had been so central in giving the Headmaster information on the Dark Lord's activities during the actual war.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge.

Once again, Neville was left silently wondering why this was described as odd; His Great Uncle Algie had had to get replacements for his more than once, and Neville was under the impression they were fairly common.

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?"

Hermione suddenly sat up straight and frowned. Sitting right next to her, Ron was one of the only ones to notice. He nudged her with his elbow, raising his eyebrow at her when she turned to him. Instead of getting an answer, however, she just shook her head, telling him silently to wait. In answer, he just rolled his eyes.

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

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

Anyone who had heard or seen Harry talk or interact with his family frowned at this. And it was Sirius who burst out,

"If those people fall under Dumbledore's definition of 'family', then I think he's getting too old for any sort of position of authority!" At this, Severus rolled his eyes, just waiting for one of Albus' loyal followers to dig into the mutt. When no one else spoke, he looked around and found most people, including Molly, Minerva, and Remus, nodding their heads in agreement.

"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!"

"Exactly!" Sirius burst out once again, this time actually standing up and starting to pace. "And that's nothing on how Dursley was thinking about James and Lily!" He was clearly winding himself up quickly and thoroughly, and Remus knew that if they were ever going to get to the next chapter, Sirius was either going to have to get it out of his system or calm down. Since Sirius didn't look like his rant would be over anytime soon, Remus decided the latter course of action was called for. And so he stood up and got in his friend's way until the Animagus looked directly at him.

"Sirius…" Remus started, leaning in so he could talk without everyone else hearing, "I know you're angry with Albus at the moment, but the longer you pace around yelling your head off, the longer it will be before you can actually talk to him in person." Sirius started shaking his head vehemently, so Remus pulled out one last card to get his friend to sit down. "Besides, you interrupted Minerva, and if you think she's going to stay quiet for much longer while waiting on your temper, you've clearly spent too much time away from Hogwarts." He smirked, seeing his friends' eyes widen fractionally, then visibly pull his expression into something slightly calmer.

"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."

At this, Sirius visibly, and audibly, gritted his teeth but refrained from saying anything, as Remus had his bicep in a very strong grip.

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future -"

"Oh I hope Harry never hears that that's a possibility…" Hermione muttered to Ron, who nodded in agreement, both imagining what kind of temper that would send their friend into.

"There will be books written about Harry -"

"No, that would never happen…" Fred said sarcastically, while George made very overly dramatic head shakes, causing the teens to snort and the adults to roll their eyes.

"every child in our world will know his name!"

"You make that sound like a good thing, Professor," Ron said, and Minerva had to admit he had a point; she knew that Harry didn't always appreciate the attention his name garnered.

"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't you see how much better off he'll be growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

"Well…I guess I can agree with that point." Sirius conceded, reluctantly. But he wasn't ready to give up his frustration with the Headmaster yet, however. "That doesn't mean there weren't other muggle-centric options for Harry's home life!"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -yes, you're right, of course."

"Even after a whole day watching Petunia, you still agree with Albus after he says one thing?" Remus raised his eyebrows, surprised at how quickly the fierce Head of Gryffindor had backed down.

"Some of us know when arguing won't help the situation, Mr. Lupin," Minerva said, staring stiffly at her former student. "I know you are familiar with how stubborn our dear Headmaster can get when he gets an idea in his head." Remus flushed, having experienced Albus' insistence before Harry's third year, when the older man had been trying to convince him to come teach. Seeing this, Minerva smiled slightly and continued, "I realized anything I said wouldn't do much but prolong our stay at Privet Drive, so why bother?" With that, she turned back and continued reading, hoping the chapter was finally coming to an end soon.

"But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" she eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.

Many of the teenage boys blanched at this, desperately hoping their professor's instincts were wrong.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

Upon hearing this, those that had blanched let out audible sighs of relief practically simultaneously, causing Ginny and Hermione to burst out laughing at them.

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

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

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "But you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

Sirius smirked at this when Remus turned to him with raised eyebrows. "I thought you said no one was allowed to even breathe on your motorcycle, Sirius." He said, remembering how particular his friend was about one of his prized possessions.

"Well, as Minerva said, Hagrid can be slightly careless, so I figured it would be safer to send him on his way with my bike than have him try and apparate or something." Sirius frowned, "though had I known where he was bringing Harry, I might have put up more of a fight."

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.

"Aww, its baby Hawwy!" the twins crooned in sync, alleviating some of the tension still hanging around.

"Well, at least he's finally in the book," Ginny commented, rolling her eyes at her brothers' antics.

"Speaking of Harry…why isn't he here? If this really is about his life, shouldn't he be listening as well?" Neville asked, looking around the room curiously. He noticed that both Remus and Sirius' faces had stiffened slightly, while the other adults seemed to be exchanging glances, though none seemed willing to come out and answer his question. Turning to his classmates, he saw that both Ron and Hermione were looking fairly ashamed, and the other Weasleys wouldn't meet his eyes. He shared a confused glance with Luna, who had suddenly become more interested in the conversation than she had since the book began. It was Remus, predictably, who finally broke the silence, coughing slightly to get Neville's attention.

"As a matter of fact, Neville, Harry isn't here because Professor Dumbledore felt that it would be safer for him to remain at his aunt and uncle's, especially since there are special blood wards protecting him there."

"But, for something like this, don't you think the headmaster would make an exception?" Again, most people avoided Neville's eyes, though this time it was the two professors more than the teenagers that looked sheepish. And once more, Remus took on the role of explaining things.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't exactly know what we are doing at the moment, in all honesty…we rather thought he would disapprove of the whole situation, and come to think of it, bringing Harry here would garner his attention more effectively than anything else we could do." Seeing that Remus and all the others didn't intend to elaborate more, Neville just shrugged.

"Alright, I guess…if you think that's best." He sat back in his seat, looking more apprehensive than curious about all the secrecy now, but clearly not willing to push any of the adults further for answers.

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

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir" said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me."

"That makes it sound like Hagrid was planning on giving me the bike back, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of it," Sirius commented offhandedly, suddenly imagining the large half-giant trying to inconspicuously hide the large flying motorbike behind his back as he slunk into the shadows. He was brought out of his odd daydream by Remus, who muttered somewhat sadly,

"Well, you were a little preoccupied at the time trying to hunt down Peter, so how would you know?" This of course made Sirius feel guilty, and when he turned to his friend, the werewolf just shook his head, indicating that Minerva hadn't stopped reading, and they could talk later.

"I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

"Wait a minute…" Hermione suddenly murmured, looking oddly at the book, as if trying to piece together something. "Professor, how far away is Godric's Hollow from Privet Drive?"

Minerva looked up, surprised at such an odd question. "Well Miss Granger, I'm not totally sure…why?"

"Well, it can't be farther than Hogwarts is from London, correct?" Looking around the room, Hermione saw that many people weren't following her train of thought. "Think about it. If most of the wizarding world knew about You-Know-Who's defeat by the morning before this conversation, that must mean the actual attack happened the night before….a whole day before Hagrid arrives on Privet Drive. And if Godric's Hollow is closer than Hogwarts to that area of England, and it takes the Hogwarts Express about half a day to travel the distance, it must have taken Hagrid even less time than that to get from Harry's house to his relative's house, right?" Seeing the nods from most people, Hermione continued with her train of thought.

"So, if the attack happened one whole day ago, but it took Hagrid less than half a day to travel by bike after getting Harry, and we can assume he used some other, quicker, method—probably apparition—to get to Godric's Hollow in the first place, that means Harry—a one-year-old child—was sitting in a mostly destroyed house with the bodies of his parents for at least the rest of the night, if not most of the next day while the wizarding world celebrated! Even Sirius seemed to have taken his sweet old time getting to Godric's Hollow, and you Professor McGonagall, spent most of the time on a brick wall, when it should have been clear by lunchtime that Hagrid was taking much too long on his mission if you really talked to him before eight-thirty that morning!" By the time she finished, Hermione had worked herself up into quite an angry state at how contradictory people seemed to be when it came to Harry's well-being. Ron and the rest of the teenagers, plus Bill, were looking at the girl in what seemed to be a mixture of awe (at her daring to call out her Head of House) and astonishment (at how she had noticed something no one else seemed to be paying attention to).

Indeed, most of the room was now looking quite shocked, and Molly's face was getting rather red. Severus had raised his eyebrows at this revelation, and was secretly impressed by how Hermione had deduced it all. After all, it wasn't everyday a fifteen-year-old student was able to make Minerva look so embarrassed and cowed. Merlin knew, it took Severus a lot more effort to get the Transfiguration Professor that disgruntled, and he'd been sniping with her for years.

Surprisingly, neither Sirius nor Remus started yelling, as many of the teens would have predicted, and were watching for. Rather, it looked like Sirius was just as shocked at this idea as Minerva was, and he and Remus were having a very intense and quiet conversation on their couch, ignoring the rest of the room.

Molly seemed to be getting her voice back by this point, and looked like she was about to start in on Minerva, but Arthur intervened before she—or anyone else—could start berating the thoroughly embarrassed woman. "Now's not the time to discuss this, Molly, especially not in front of the teenagers. Minerva," He turned somewhat stiffly to the woman holding the book, who seemed to be somewhat shell-shocked by the idea that she and everyone else had neglected poor Harry in return for celebrating. "How much more of this chapter is there left?"

Coming out of her stupor, Minerva looked down at the book, a little flustered, but managed to flip through the pages, while avoiding eye contact with most people. "Not much at all, Arthur, only a few pages left."

"Good, can we continue please?" Minerva nodded, and did as he asked, though the tension was still thick in the room.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

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

"Not that it does him any good," Ron muttered to Hermione, who still looked upset over leaving a child in the house where his parents had been murdered. Hearing him, however, she turned, and her anger seemed to morph into sadness for her friend as she nodded miserably in agreement.

"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."

"Someone should probably warn Professor Dumbledore that the London Underground system is very prone to Bluffard infestations," Luna said suddenly. This effectively knocked everyone out of their anger at Dumbledore's timing with Harry's recovery, and rather made them all look blankly at the blonde girl sitting next to Ginny. Seeing this, Luna elaborated.

"Bluffards are rather strange creatures that live underground, and tend to give off a very bad smell. Unfortunately, since London has dug tunnels for the Underground in most places, their burrows have all been disturbed, and they make their homes underneath the trains, hence why it always smells so odd. It also makes them very hard to catch sight of, and hard to look for, when you can't do any magic near the Muggles. Daddy and I took a trip to London for just that purpose the summer before I started Hogwarts, but we weren't very lucky."

Not having any sort of coherent response to this, Minerva simply went back to reading, thankful the girl had gotten the attention momentarily taken off of the professor's past actions, or inactions, as the case may be.

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

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards 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.

"Shhhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"Because knocking on the door and handing them an orphaned child won't do that enough on its own." Ginny scoffed, a little disenchanted with the fact that her Head of House was not as perfect as the youngest Weasley had liked to believe.

"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.

"What?" Molly burst out, once again glaring at Minerva. "You just let Albus leave Harry on the doorstep in the middle of autumn, on a night that was supposed to be rainy?" Before the Weasley matriarch could continue, however, Minerva closed the book and slammed it on the table next to her seat. She had had enough with people getting angry at her, and her temper had finally gotten too much to ignore.

"Yes, Molly! Apparently, it wasn't enough that I was grieving over two of my former students—both from my own House, and both Head Boy and Head Girl in their final years—who I had just learned were murdered the night before and their child attacked and left for dead, but I was also responsible for the actions of Albus Dumbledore, who is my senior in every way possible, and it was merely on a whim that I decided against starting an argument in the middle of the night, in the middle of the muggle world, in the middle of a dark street! And furthermore, do you really think Albus or I would leave a defenseless child on a doorstep without any protection from the elements?" Here Minerva paused, taking in deep breaths to try and calm herself down as the rest of the room tried to recover from such a sound dressing down.

Poor Hermione looked like she was going to break out into tears, she was so ashamed of how she had basically accused her professor of neglecting Harry, and Molly didn't look much better, realizing that of course Minerva would not have acted as callously as they seemed to have thought she had. Seeing that she had gotten her temper reigned back in, and no one appeared to want to say anything to get her ire back up, Minerva picked the book back up and resolutely returned to reading, determined to finish this damn chapter one way or another.

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 sparkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on the jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

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

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…. He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"

Minerva closed the book, glad to have finally finished, and looked around. Most of the teens looked like they were still in shock over her little outburst, which explained why the last few paragraphs hadn't had any interruptions. The adults, however, seemed to have recovered a little quicker, and surprisingly did not seem as upset with Minerva as they had been before. Unbeknownst to the head of Gryffindor, most of them had actually taken her words to heart, and could understand how in her emotional state she hadn't made a bigger deal out of Albus' questionable actions.

As such, when Ron's stomach growled loudly and Molly ushered all the teens back into the kitchen, to 'fetch a little bit of a snack', the rest of the Order members that were left didn't start in on her as she expected. Rather, an embarrassed silence settled over the group, and it was Arthur who finally broached the subject.

"Minerva, I apologize for our assumptions earlier…I don't think anyone blamed you for how you handled anything, it's just Hermione's observation took us all by surprise, and you were the only one from that night around for us to vent on." He sighed and shook his head. "By all rights, I think it is Albus who should be held accountable, as I agree that leaving a child on a stoop is not the best thing he could have done in that situation, though I can't see the Dursley's taking in Harry had he confronted them directly."

"Thank you, Arthur, but there's no need to apologize, I understand why you are upset; that chapter was just a little stressful on all of us, and Miss Granger's perceptiveness took us all a little off guard I think." Minerva smiled at the red haired patriarch, indicating that she harbored no ill will toward any of them.

By this point, the teens and Molly had filtered back in, some carrying various food items, and Ron holding a rather large sandwich. Upon seeing that the tension had apparently been diffused while they were gone, Hermione hesitantly spoke to Minerva from her seat. "Professor, if you don't mind, may I read the next chapter? It's just that, I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of muggle-related things coming up if this talks about Harry's home life, and it'll be easier for me to read through it all." Seeing Minerva nod in agreement, Hermione walked over and took the book back to her seat next to Ron. She found the right page, and began.