Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Otherwise, my name would be J. K. Rowling, I wouldn't be composing music, I'd be rich, and I would be found in England. This does not describe me in any way, shape, or form. The plot I have in store is based loosely off of J.K. Rowling's plot, just with some of my own creativity. If you can call it creativity, that is.
Well, the first part of this chapter comes from the night that Harry's parents were attacked. The second half comes from the second part of chapter one, with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid.
Let's start the chapter!
Chapter One: The Beginning of a Legacy
It was a still, quiet Halloween night. As October came to a close, and November started to set in, the night got steadily colder. The moon was barely a sliver as it was only four days after the new moon phase, so there was not much light shining onto Godric's Hollow.
It was approaching midnight, and there were three cloaked figures approaching the house of the Potters: James, Lily, and Harry. The figure at the lead was shivering in fear of the figure behind his leader. The one at the back grumbled that he had to watch his master kill someone who could have been his "prey." The master, who was in between his two followers, had a cool stride lacing every step. He was pleased about being able to kill the one person who might have turn out to be his downfall otherwise.
"The Potters are hiding there, my lord," said the head of the group. He was pointing at what seemed to be an empty space.
"Bah! There's no one anywhere," growled the person at the back.
"Hush, Fenrir," said the shaded figure in the middle. "The Potters have hidden the house with a Fidelis Charm," he explained in his cold, cruel voice.
"Wormtail was made their Secret-Keeper. Not to their advantage, of course," he continued with a laugh as a house appeared to sprout out from thin air, shoving other houses out of the way. The residents of those houses did not seem to notice that the house had even shoved them away.
"Right," said Fenrir, obviously upset about something.
"What's bothering you, Fenrir?" said the leader.
"Nothing is wrong, Lord Voldemort," replied Fenrir.
"I believe there is," said Voldemort thoughtfully. "I can see what you have been thinking. You want me to leave the young child for you to bite, eh?"
Fenrir merely mumbled.
"Well, I apologize, Fenrir, but I cannot allow the boy to remain alive. I have my reasons," he added as Fenrir was about to object. Feeling dejected, Fenrir grumbled in defeat.
"He could have been an excellent-," Fenrir began, but Voldemort interrupted.
"Do you honestly think that Harry Potter would join us?" asked Voldemort furiously. "If we left him alive, then that would give him an opportunity to carry out the prophecy for his benefit." Voldemort was furious. Fenrir knew that if he wasn't quiet, he would get a mouthful of the Cruciatus Curse.
"Very well then…," sighed Fenrir, knowing he couldn't convince his leader.
"Look, why don't you both wait here. Wormtail especially. If James or Lily is able to make a break for it, you can make your own strike against them. I'll try to make it so that Lily will make a break for it, so Fenrir won't feel too… unaccomplished," finished Voldemort with a wicked smirk. With a swish of his cloak, Voldemort turned and entered the house, where neither Wormtail or Fenrir would ever see him again until Wormtail finds him twelve and a half years from that moment.
Thirty seconds passed after Voldemort entered the Potter House before a shout from the house was heard. Wormtail squirmed when he realized that it was James's voice that shouted, "Lily! Take Harry and run!"
Fenrir licked his fangs at the opportunity this presented him. If he could get to the boy, he was free, but Lily never emerged from the door.
A flash of green light escaped from the windows of an upstairs room, which happened to be the nursery. A female voice shouted, "Harry!" before it was silenced.
"Now for you," said Voldemort, turning to Harry in the crib. "Avada Kedavra!" A blast of green light was released from his wand, but the curse rebounded off of Harry's body and turned back to Voldemort, the force of the blast causing skin to sizzle and peel off of Voldemort's body.
Voldemort screamed as the foundation of the house started to give way. As Voldemort's body burned to its last moments, an explosion occurred, destroying the entire house. Wormtail fled from the scene as soon as possible while Fenrir stayed behind. At the center of the building remains, there was a crib standing on three legs with a baby in it, unaware of the events that had occurred.
Fenrir strode over to the crib, hungrily – not that he was going to eat Harry, but would do the same with him as he had with most of his bitten -- and leaned over the crib. He noticed the lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, and said, "Heh. In time, Potter, in time. I'll wait for you to become famous to the Wizarding World. Then you'll be an even better prize to own."
He left at the right time too, because a man with long, black hair and another man with brown hair had walked under a nearby streetlight, making themselves noticeable. Fenrir growled at their appearance, but recognized something familiar about the brown-haired one.
"Whatever," he growled, and walked off.
"Remus!" exclaimed the man with the long black hair. "You don't think that…"
"Yes, Sirius. I believe Voldemort has gotten to them," said Remus sadly. "On thing I don't understand is: weren't you their Secret-Keeper?"
Sirius merely growled and said, "I can't believe I let this happen."
"Sirius?" asked Remus worriedly.
"I have to go," Sirius burst out suddenly. He walked off and then Disapparated from the scene.
"But what about," Remus began, but he was interrupted by a "pop" when Sirius Diapparated, "Harry…?" He finished. He then turned at another "pop" and saw Albus Dumbledore, having brought Hagrid with him via Side-Along Apparition.
"It has happened then, Remus?" asked Dumbledore. The twinkle that was usually dancing behind his half-moon spectacles was dead at the moment, fearing the worst.
"Yes, it has," Remus answered. Hagrid bellowed a cry of sadness. "Calm down, Hagrid. Harry will be alright." He patted Hagrid on the back, knowing that Hagrid had experienced tragic deaths already. Even if Hagrid was a half-giant, he still had a soft heart that was upset easily.
Remus turned to Dumbledore, still patting Hagrid on the back. "Harry is alive, though, Albus. So what is going to happen to Harry after this terrifying ordeal?"
"Well, I don't think that Tom Riddle has yet vanished from this earth. He more than likely had not enough human enough left in him to truly die," stated Dumbledore. (A/N: You know, now that I think about it, that statement could have been foreshadowing to the Horcruxes. I don't know. It may be just merely a thought.)
"Yeah, he prob'ly didn'," agreed Hagrid between sobs. Remus's comforting didn't seem to do much to help Hagrid, so he stopped as Hagrid bellowed another loud sob.
"Hagrid, please," said Dumbledore politely. "Harry will have to stay with his aunt and uncle. They're his only relatives and, legally, he should go to them."
"Sirius is Harry's godfather. Wouldn't Harry be safer with him than with Muggles who could barely defend themselves against angry Death Eaters?" asked Remus.
"There would be wards around the neighborhood. That won't keep them out, but it will prevent them from Apparating too close to Harry's relatives' house," explained Dumbledore.
Remus was still unsure about sending Harry to his aunt and uncle. From what he had heard from Lily, her sister, Petunia, despised any and all forms of magic. 'Then again,' thought Remus, 'Dumbledore usually knows what he's doing.'
"Rubeus?" asked Dumbledore. Hagrid stopped his sobbing to pay attention to the one who had treated him with such kindness over the years, even after Armando Dippet expelled him from school in his third year at Hogwarts.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?" said Hagrid, which sounded eerily like something one of the house elves would say.
"I want you to bring Harry to Little Whinging, Surrey tomorrow night by midnight. Do you understand?" asked Dumbledore, confident in his feeling that Hagrid would be up to the task.
"Yes sir, Professor Dumbledore," affirmed Hagrid. "One thing though… How am I s'posed to get young Harry to Surrey?"
"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Dumbledore with a wink. "Remus, come with me, if you please." Dumbledore and Remus walked off into the shadows of the area, and they were gone.
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Hagrid, left alone in the middle of the rubble with the cradle. Young Harry was still asleep, and did not stir at all during the conversation that had just taken place.
After an hour of wondering what to do, Hagrid had heard a distinct roar of a motorcycle off in the distance. He panicked, not knowing if it were a Muggle or someone who could help. When he looked up, he saw Sirius Black, looking frantic.
"Hagrid! There's no time!" half-shouted Sirius. "Have you seen Remus?" Hagrid shook his head.
"Remus and Dumbledore just left an hour ago," replied Hagrid.
"Ugh! Well, Hagrid, is Harry still there?" asked Sirius.
"Yes Sirius. Little Harry's still sleepin'," replied Hagrid with a yawn.
"Okay then. Can you hand him to me?" asked Sirius.
"Wha? No! I have strict orders from Dumbledore to take 'im to his aunt and uncle tomorrow night," said Hagrid. "I could never disobey Dumbledore. Never! He seemed to think 'Arry would be safer with his relatives than he would be with anyone else. No offense to you, Sirius."
"Safer? Do you know about the Dursleys' opinion of magic? They'll kick him out if they don't leave him behind while they're on vacation, send him to an orphanage, or worse, kill him!" Sirius had raised his voice at the last two words to emphasize his point.
Hagrid looked down at his feet for a few seconds before replying, "Dumbledore has his reasons. Even if they may be a little rash." Hagrid sighed and continued, "He'll be fine. Dumbledore wouldn't let them do anything to Harry. He's got it all planned out already."
"Be that as it may —," Sirius began.
"SIRIUS, DON' ARGUE!" roared Hagrid. Harry turned over in his crib, making Hagrid feel guilty for waking him up.
Knowing that he was fighting a lost cause, Sirius eventually gave in. "Fine," he snapped. "But since you can't Apparate him, use my motorcycle. I don't think I'll need it again." Before Hagrid said anything more, Sirius had vanished with a "pop!" and wasn't seen again.
(A/N: I do not own this section of the story. Except for some details, this excerpt from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was mostly written, based off of, and is owned by J. K. Rowling.)
In the still, evening air on Privet Drive, there was no sound heard, naught but for the slamming of a car door. A cat was perched still upon the brick wall in front of a house with a brass number '4' engraved on it.
The cat was gazing at a particular spot on a corner, and had moved slightly when a man appeared at the whirling of a cloak precisely on that spot.
The old man took out what appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter. He gave it a flick, and one of the streetlights were put out. He repeated this at least eleven more times until all the streetlights were out.
He turned to the cat and said, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He smiled at the tabby cat, which was not a cat anymore. She had transformed herself into a severe-looking woman with square glasses, matching the pattern around her eyes, an emerald-green cloak, and black hair was drawn up into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"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 past a dozen feasts and parties on my way here," said Dumbledore, surprised.
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars. . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"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 being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?" Professor McGonagall blinked in confusion.
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "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." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Gumbledore, 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."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I never will have."
"Only because you're too – well – noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed this much since Madam Pomfrey told me how much she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that have been – what was that!" Professor McGonagall was startled by movement in the bushes.
"Must have been a cat," sniffed Professor McGonagall. "I can be so jumpy at –," she began, but was interrupted by Dumbledore.
"My dear Minerva, that was no cat," said Dumbledore silently. "More along the lines of a canine." A figure stood up from the bushes and stared at Dumbledore.
"Fenrir!" called out Dumbledore. "What have you heard?" Dumbledore knew from experience that werewolves hated having magic used against them. That was one thing all creatures shared was that quality, werewolves hating it to the umpteenth power. Dumbledore kept his wand held tightly in his pocket, just in case.
"I haven't heard anything, Professor Dumbledore," said Fenrir nastily. "I was merely passing through."
"Albus!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall in fright.
"I will ask you one more time," said Dumbledore. "What have you heard?"
"Oh, never mind me," said Fenrir. "Continue with your chat, for I really must be going." Fenrir did not Apparate but somehow seemed to disappear into thin air without a trace.
"Oh dear, Albus!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall after a few moments of silence. "That was… truly frightening," she continued, regaining her composure. "But it made me realize. What will we do if Fenrir Greyback bites young Harry?"
"I truly cannot say, Minerva. I truly cannot say," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. No magical ward could keep a werewolf away from the Dursleys'. Death Eater or otherwise. I shall consult with Remus Lupin upon the matter. But, for now, it appears we have approaching company," Dumbledore continued over the roar of a motorcycle.
"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. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
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 lightning bolt-shaped scar
"Is that where –" whispered Professor McGonagall tentatively.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"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. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry amd gave him what must have been aver scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"
"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 – and 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. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"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 his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"About the werewolf situation, Minerva," began Dumbledore. "I will make arrangements with Lupin, in case the Dursleys aren't careful enough."
"Oh, Albus," said Professor McGonagall, her voice quavering.
"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 rustling of wind howled through the night air. Fenrir strolled back into the neighborhood and muttered, "At last," and memorized the way to get back to the house. He smirked, and said, "You will be my prey soon, pup. It has already been set into motion. You are now famous for defeating the Dark Lord." He laughed. "A fine trophy you'll turn out to be, Harry Potter – The boy who lived."
Well, I changed the ending to fit the story. Basically, Fenrir Greyback wants to make Harry into a werewolf, since he would make an excellent trophy to bite. Harry's being famous would crush everyone's hearts when they found out that their savior from the Dark Ages of Voldemort was made into a werewolf. So, of course, Fenrir wants Harry for his own reasons.
Review Section
Kathleen LaCorneille – Wow. This is an interesting review. For starters, I didn't expect Sybill Trelawney to make a big role in the Werewolf Chronicles. If so, she wouldn't appear again, most likely, until Book III. Harry will be getting bitten soon. I'm thinking around four or six. Since he doesn't understand about the magical world, he would not know anything about what is going on. Arabella Figg is the one that would report to Dumbledore about Harry's werewolf affliction, so… yeah… Whether Harry will reject the wolf or not, well, to tell the truth that's still up in the air.
Dumbledore will probably have as big of a part as he did in J. K. Rowling's series; so if that disappoints you, I apologize. Harry Potter and the Werewolf's Curse has nothing to do with this, either.
Moonstar – I'm glad you like it! I'll probably continue with my other fics too very soon.
