-1Author's Note: If someone can give me a lesson on the difference between who and whom I will love you forever.
"Harry," Pierre started, unsure exactly how to approach the boy. It was true, he mused, that he must be rather, ahem, imposing. Pierre Granger, while a dentist full-time, had taken to exercise and fitness to keep himself busy. As a result of years of hard-work and dedication ("It's just like brushing your teeth, except longer!") Pierre was a bit…large. It was for this reason that new patients often seemed uncomfortable around him, until they got to know him and realized he was really a very nice guy, despite appearances. The scraggly brown beard he used to sport never helped matters, either.
"Harry, it's okay, we're not going to send you back to the Dursley's." Harry's eyes lit up at this. Pierre smiled--he had him, now. "We just want to know where they live, so we can make sure you don't have to go back there."
Harry told him where his relatives lived, and Pierre's jaw tightened. So close! In the same town, even! Hell, he'd treated that humongous kid of theirs before. He never thought, not once, that the bastards could have another kid. They had hid Harry from the public eye exceedingly well.
Well, no longer! Not as long as Pierre still breathed, that was for sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin First Class, and Vanquisher of Grindewald, was not happy. It was very important--imperative, even, that Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World stay with the Dursley's for his own protection. The remaining Death Eaters abound were just itching to kill him as revenge, and the only thing protecting him were the blood wards in place around Number Four, Privet Drive. And now, of course, someone was trying to take him away from that and surely to his death.
Albus sighed. He didn't very much like interfering like this. Replacing memories was an ethical tightrope with no net under it, but everyone had to make sacrifices for the greater good, whether they knew it or not. Besides, he mused, surely the reports about the Dursley's abuse were greatly exaggerated. Minerva and Arabella were, after all, very sensitive when it came to child-rearing. Surely a few spankings every now and then weren't so terrible.
Ah, well. It was as nice a time as any for a good, long flight on a broom, and since he was going to wipe their memories anyway, he figured a little break couldn't hurt.
Of course, what one of the most powerful wizards of his time failed to notice was the watchful eye of a tabby cat hanging around just outside his office. Nor did he notice the tabby cat stand up on two legs and morph into one Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
Minerva McGonagall hurried up into Dumbledore's office and rummaged through his papers, looking for any sign of where Harry Potter currently was and any way to get there before Dumbledore arrived. She had some time, thank Merlin, because Dumbledore was going through another of his youths. Really though, if you asked her, he never stopped his first one. She figured that was why he was so good with children.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, having finally found the record which always told were Harry Potter was at all times. This was a rare artifact, of which there was only one in the entire world, and impossible to duplicate. These Child-O-Graphs were made at birth from part of the mother's blood, and were given to the parents so that they would always know where exactly their child was. It was one of the many artifacts and trinkets salvaged from Potter Manor nearly eight years ago. And now, it said that Harry Potter was currently located at the Granger residence.
McGonagall's lips pursed. Granger was the name of a Muggleborn witch that the quill had written down a very long time ago. It was a rarity, to have an outburst of accidental magic so powerful as to activate the quill so young, but Granger had somehow managed to blow out a wall when she was little. The quill never lied, nor did it ever ask questions.
Unfortunately for her, the Grangers were a nonmagical family, living in a Muggle neighborhood, so it was impossible to Floo there directly. Minerva hurried and grabbed a broom from the nearest closet. It would be difficult, almost exceedingly so, to reach Dumbledore in time, but she could try.
One of Dumbledore's biggest faults, and some might say one of his biggest strengths, was that he was always willing to give a person a second chance, no matter how horrible the crime. It was a joke among the undesirables of society that if you ever had to stand before the Wizengamot, just get yourself down to Dumbledore's vote and you were home free.
But Minerva had seen the Dursleys, and the way they had treated poor Harry Potter, and they would receive no second chances. Not as long as Minerva McGonagall was still alive, that much was certain!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rowena Ravenclaw watched as the old man whom now managed her school flew to her heir's house to move the Potter boy back to the Dursley's. She knew what was going to happen, of course. The old man would wipe the memories of her heir and her parents, the boy, and the Dursley's, and send him back there. Well, no skin off Rowena's no-doubt rotted nose. The boy could suffer forever for all she cared. Hell, the only reason Lady Ravenclaw helped in the first place was because Gretchen asked her to, and that was before Gretchen decided to go to town with the rules. Tell her what to do, will she? Well, Gretchen would just have to get her fool of a husband to help her, then.
It was while Rowena was thinking these thoughts that a spectral bird flew near and landed on her shoulder, as was his favorite perch in the nonmaterial world. The blackbird that was Rowena's namesake only stared at her, intently, as if it were judging her somewhere in it's feathered head.
"What. Stop looking at me like that." Rowena commanded. The bird did not listen.
"Why should I help? After all, Gretchen is just going to have to learn that I can't do everything for her, can I?" The bird still stared.
"…Fine. Have it your way. You always knew I couldn't say no to those eyes of yours. It's not my fault if this goes wrong." The bird rested it's head on Rowena's.
She sighed, "I love you too."
Lady Ravenclaw once more cast the spell that caused so much pain. Her face scrunched up in agony, and the bird only watched, beak open, eyes wide, and looked as horrified as a blackbird could possibly look. Rowena only smiled as the Shattering, as she had taken to calling it, removed her form from sight.
Rowena Ravenclaw had long ago stopped breathing, but Harry Potter wouldn't go back to the Dursley's anyway.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Helen and Pierre Granger were in a pickle. It had been like pulling teeth, trying to conceive Hermione in the first place. They had tried over and over, for a full two years until the test changed colour. They had both considered adoption, and had agreed that what they really wanted a child of their own. Helen had considered in-vitro fertilization, and again they both agreed to use it as a last result, due to both the risk involved and the cost. It was a miracle, then, when Helen found out that at last she was pregnant.
Now they were faced with another child, ad neither of them knew what to do. It was really nothing against Harry personally, he was very polite and, sadly, too well-behaved. Yet both Grangers worked full-time at their practice, and they again agreed that Harry would need more than that to recover. Worse yet, the boy seemed to have the same penchant for strange happenings that their daughter did, and they weren't sure how they would manage when things started exploding. Of course, there was no way either of them could send him back to those horrid relatives of his, and so was their conundrum.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Albus Dumbledore arrived at the Granger home, having made very good time for a man over a century of age, if you asked him. Having already cast a muggle-repelling charm on himself and his broom, he dismounted his Clean Sweep ad walked towards the door of the two-story house at the end of the road with a bounce in his step that he often got after a good flight.
Albus transfigured his robes into a blue sports jersey advertising the worth of some German player or another and a rather fetching pair of black dress pants. He figured his boots were already muggle enough, and knocked on the door.
Dumbledore waited, very patiently, a good three or four minutes before a very large, very fit man opened the door and immediately looked upon the older man with confusion and question at his rather unique outfit. Albus frowned a little inside--muggles never appreciated the efforts he went to make them more comfortable. The larger man asked Dumbledore if he was lost and if he might need to use their telephone, and Dumbledore simply pulled out a small, crooked wooden stick, and a red light shot out of it and the large man crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Helen Granger crossed the hall to her daughter's room, in which Hermione was currently giving her newest friend a tour of her room, and most of all, her prized book collection. Harry, bless his heart, looked and acted as excited as could be about each detail of Hermione's room, from her star-covered ceiling to her wall-to-wall bookshelves. He even thought it was grand that Hermione had her own special carpeting, a navy blue color unique to the burgundy present in the rest of the house. Harry thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world, that Hermione got something special.
Helen was observing this mini-tour with a smile on her face when an old man wearing the most ludicrous outfit she'd ever seen walked in the door. He seemed rather sad about something, like he was sent to relay gruesome news or he had just been forced to be an executioner.
"Excuse me, but do you know what you are doing here?" Helen thought that maybe the front door was left open, and perhaps the poor old man was senile. It couldn't hurt to at least treat him with some kindness.
"Yes," the old man sighed, "I am here to take Harry back to his Aunt and Uncle." He only looked more dejected.
Helen immediately stiffened up and looked stern. "You will do nothing of the sort. I am prepared to take his case to the High Court if need be."
Dumbledore sighed. He pulled out his wand, and began to intone "Obliv-"
It was while this was going on that Hermione, standing behind her bed with Harry and watching the goings-on of the adults, felt the familiar weight materialize on her arm. She looked down, as was instinct, and saw the familiar emblem of a bird with it's wings spread wide emblazoned upon a dark blue shield. And, when the shield appeared, so did the voice.
"Stop him!" the voice shouted in Hermione's head, urgent.
The voice had never driven Hermione wrong before, and this man was really quite scary. It is understandable, then, that Hermione Granger swung her shield like a baseball bat into Dumbledore's knees. Hermione was young, yes, and not very strong, despite the stacks of books she would often carry home from the library. But fortunately for her, Albus Dumbledore was also very, very old. He buckled.
"DON'T HURT MY MOMMY."
Harry scrambled for the stick that the old man had dropped. He had often overhead his relatives talking about "magic" and gathered that this magic was why he was a freak. And, as any 9 year old boy knows, any good magic spell sounds weird. He heard what the man with the stick was saying before, pointed the wand at him, and said "Oblivi-um." The man passed out, and Harry was quite horrified.
Helen was partly amazed at what had just happened, like any human being would be. But like any good mother, this human curiosity took a backseat to maternal worry. Helen pulled in her daughter and Harry tightly and squeezed like if she didn't the children would float off miles away, never to be seen or heard from again.
"Where's Dad?" Hermione squeaked out, filled with as much worry as her mother was about her. If that man's stick could do that from just Harry making up gibberish, Hermione could not bear to think what could have become of her father. Her dad was tough, sure, but he wasn't a match to something like that.
Helen pulled away from her daughter for a moment and looked directly at her. She told her under no terms was she to leave her room, and that Helen would be back very soon once she made sure Dad was okay. Hermione only nodded, terrified.
Helen walked carefully down the hall to the staircase, fearing the absolute worst for her husband. For all she knew he could be--no, she could not allow herself to think that way. Pierre would not allow himself to leave her like that.
She descended the first two steps of the staircase slowly, until she saw what she truly wished she would not see. Mrs. Granger leapt down the staircase in bounds of two or three steps at a time and rushed to her husband, nearly collapsing on top of his still-warm body, sobbing.
Still-warm.
Helen realized that Pierre was still breathing, his pulse was normal, and for all physical appearance, looked like he had just fallen asleep in the middle of the floor. She thanked whatever gods were watching and just sat there and held him for a moment.
However, when chaos strikes and unexpected things happen, usually these things do not stop happening for a while, and today was no different. A slightly wrinkled, worried looking woman with hair pulled into an impossibly tight bun burst open the door, panting and looking for all the world that she had just performed a triathlon. Following close behind her was a ragged man whose clothes appeared to have been worn quite a few times too many and washed too few.
"Where's," the woman wheezed, "Mr. Potter?"
"GET OUT!" Helen screamed, "GO AWAY, YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM BACK!"
The woman's face brightened, relieved. "Oh, thank Merlin, we're not too late."
The ragged man was less relieved that the woman, for he had noticed that under the woman whom had just roared at them, was a large man whom appeared to be sleeping. He sighed.
"Dumbledore's been here." He pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the unconscious man. Helen tried to shield him with her own body, but alas, she was quite a bit smaller than her husband, and the ragged man had a fair shot when he voiced something like "Innervate" and moved his stick around. Much to Helen's relief, however, the instant the ragged man said this, her husband started to come around.
"Helen! Where's that old man? Are you okay? Is Hermione?" Pierre questioned, even before getting up off of the floor.
"We're fine. Harry did…something, and the old guy is knocked out upstairs."
"Oh, Merlin," the exhausted woman sighed, exasperated, "Albus is still here." The two newcomers immediately rushed upstairs, and if Helen wasn't emotionally exhausted at that point, she would have been alarmed at how quickly the seemingly out-of-shape woman could bound up them.
In Hermione's room, the ragged man introduced himself to Harry as one Remus Lupin, while the older woman said her name was Minerva McGonagall. It was very soon after this that Pierre Granger leapt up the staircase and burst into his daughter's room behind the two strangers. Lupin, fortunately, had a fair bit of experience dealing with people angry with him, and knew how to usually stop violence without reciprocating. He put his hands above his hands, and walked slowly to a nearby wall, where he stood facing it, and put his hands on the wall. He motioned for Minerva to do the same.
"My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Minerva McGonagall. We are here to make sure Harry does not go back to the Dursleys. We mean no harm to your daughter." Pierre thanked his lucky stars. He really didn't want to have to beat up a poor, sickly man and a woman.
"Give me your sticks." Pierre demanded. True, they were up against a wall, but he had seen first hand what those people could do with those little bits of wood, and wanted to make sure they were completely disarmed. They complied. Harry, too, gave Pierre the stick he found from the old man still on the floor.
"Who's that?" the Granger head pointed to the elderly person on the floor, "And what is he doing here?"
Minerva replied, "That is Albus Dumbledore, a very powerful wizard. He is the Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he came to take Harry back to his relatives."
"Where's Hogwarts?" Hermione questioned, her fear of the three strangers now overpowered by her curiosity, especially when it had something to do with learning.
"In Scotland. It's a school where we teach young witches and wizards how to do magic. We hope that you and Harry will join us there when you turn 11." Minerva smiled, despite her situation. She was always happy when the young ones were eager to learn.
"Hermione will not be going anywhere where this Dumbledore bastard is Headmaster." Pierre responded firmly.
Minerva sighed, "I assure you, he really is a good man. He believes everyone deserves a second chance, even the Dursley's."
"Then why are you trying to prevent him from taking Harry?"
"The same reason you are, I imagine. Some people do not deserve a second chance."
"Alright, what are you doing here then, Lupin was it?"
Remus replied, "I recently discovered that I have some relation to Harry's late father. I want to adopt Harry." Harry brightened at this. He didn't much want to be adopted by the Grangers, not because of any ill-will towards them, but because he did not want Hermione to be his sister. He found that, like Vernon's sister Marge, and most of the sisters on the television programs Dudley and the rest of the family watched, sisters and brothers oftentimes hated each other, and he did not want to have to hate his first friend. In addition to all of that, Harry had always been extremely curious about his parents, and it was hopeless to ever try to get any information out of the Dursley's whatsoever.
"Are you really related to my dad?" Harry asked. Surely this couldn't be all a cruel joke, and they weren't really going to take him back to his aunt and uncle. That would just be too cruel, especially for strangers who didn't even know him.
"Yes, Harry. We apparently shared a great, great grandfather. It's like that with most Wizarding families." Lupin replied gently.
"Were my mom and dad wizards too?" Harry asked.
"Well, your mother was a witch, Harry. But yes, both of your parents were magical. That's why you can make weird things happen. According to Professor McGonagall here, your little friend is a witch, too." Lupin informed.
Harry was ecstatic. Things were definitely looking up for him--first he made a new friend, then he was taken away from the Dursley's, and now he found out why he did weird stuff and best of all, he was now getting a real, honest-to-goodness guardian to look after him.
"Excuse me," Minerva interrupted, "but I have to ask, what exactly happened to Albus?"
Hermione, seeing that she once again had an opportunity to impress an adult with her wealth of knowledge, immediately explained that she hit Dumbledore in his knees and that he passed out because of it. It was only after McGonagall pressed on why exactly Harry had Dumbledore's wand that Harry came forward and admitted that he said a magic word that caused the Headmaster to fall down and that he was very, very sorry.
McGonagall volunteered to take Dumbledore back to Hogwarts to get checked out by Madam Pomfrey, and promised that she would give Albus a talking to and assured everyone that he would understand that Harry was going to live with Lupin from now on. Once they disappeared into thin air, Lupin sat Pierre and Helen Granger down and began to explain their situation. He explained that yes, their daughter was a witch, and all predictions told that she would be a very good one indeed. He explained that sometimes witches and wizards were born to nonmagical people (whom he called Muggles until he caught himself), and that Hogwarts really was the best school a young witch could attend, and to please forgive Albus Dumbledore, because he really did have Harry's best interests at heart. It was when Helen and Pierre questioned how exactly putting Harry back with the Dursley's could possibly be in his "best interests" that Lupin's expression turned dark, and he explained all about the Dark Lord Voldemort and how his fathers were itching for revenge. The fact that his mother sacrificed herself for Harry kept the Death Eaters at bay as long as Harry lived with his mother's blood. Lupin then quickly explained that Harry's father made the same sacrifice, and so Lupin's blood would have much the same effect, and that was why Lupin was really the best choice for adoption.
Helen sighed. "I don't know, Pierre. If we send our daughter to this school, and let her into this whole other world, what is going to happen to her? We're basically putting her in danger."
"Schnookums, you know our daughter. There's this whole world out there, that she's suddenly a part of. You know as well as I do that she'll want nothing more than to explore it and learn all she can." Pierre replied.
"I wanna go," came the voice from the top of the staircase. "I wanna go to Hogwarts with Harry and learn all about magic. I wanna go."
The Grangers looked up to see their daughter with Harry standing next to her, looking determined as ever. They both looked at each other, and knew in that moment that their decision had already been made for them.
"Alright, dear." they said, in unison.
"Well, you won't be going to Hogwarts until you're eleven years old, so in the mean time, you can learn all about maths and science and all the things nonmagical people study. Now, Harry, what do you say we go and get yourself adopted" Lupin said, looking at the skinny little boy with a smile on his face.
Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, and the Grangers were going to be okay.
Author's Notes: Whew. I am so, so sorry about the wait. I've been babysitting since the 30th and just haven't had the time to sit down and write. Unfortunately for you, the wait was far from worth it because this chapter is just awful. I need a Beta Reader extremely badly, as you can no doubt tell. Any volunteers?
Love and Kisses, Your Author.
P.S. This time I only put two parenthesis blurbs in. Usually I drench the chapter in them, because quite frankly I like 'em, but then, it can be annoying when half the paragraph is inside parenthesis. Tell me whether you like them or hate them or are indifferent to them.
