Chapter 3 – The Beginning

Harry took a sip of coffee as he began to read.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley…"

"Who are they?" Neville asked.

"My aunt and uncle." Harry muttered without looking up.

"… of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."

Harry snorted and gave the twins a knowing smile.

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

"What are drills?" Arthur asked, his head cocked in confusion.

Harry didn't need to answer as Hermione did.

"There are tools used for building Mr. Weasley. They make holes in things."

"Oh. Wonderful."

Harry softened at his father figure's reaction.

"He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. 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 neighbours. The Dursleys had a small boy named Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere."

Harry reached the end of the paragraph as Ron burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. The adults looked at him in confusion, but Harry's smile only grew as Ron wheezed, over and over trying to stifle his giggling.

Harry shook his head but continued.

"…The Dursleys had everything…"

Harry scowled at the book. They did but he never got any.

"…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."

"There's nothing wrong with them." Remus growled.

Ron and Hermione saw the hurt look in Harry's eyes at the mention of his parents, although no one else seemed to notice it.

Harry cleared his throat and Remus quieted.

"Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years…"

Narcissa and Andromeda glanced at each other.

"… in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be."

Remus and Snuffles both growled as the book called their friend good-for-nothing.

"unDursleyish isn't a word." Hermione huffed.

"The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours 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."

Harry heard several sharp intakes of breath, but it was Arthur who spoke.

"Harry, do they still think like that?"

Harry didn't look up, he just shrugged, returning his attention to the book.

"When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair."

Harry chuckled at the image.

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

At the mention of the owl, Harry felt a pang in his chest, he hadn't visited Hedwig in a while. As if sensing his desire for his friend, the owl appeared in the room, hooting as she perched on the arm of Harry's chair, rubbing against his hand and he smoothed her feathers.

"Hey girl. Miss me?"

She nipped his fingers in annoyance but soon relented under his smoothing fingers.

"Missed you too."

Luna smiled at the exchange, thinking that Harry had a really strong bond with his owl.

"At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke', chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive."

Molly huffed, muttering something about bad parenting, the twins sank into their seats. Harry took another sip of coffee, observing the others as the bitter liquid revived him. Everyone was so focused on him they hadn't noticed Sirius changing from his dog form, his head resting against Remus' leg. Harry snorted.

"Sirius, if you're going to be human at least sit on the sofa."

Heads spun to escapee, gasps ringing out, but no one said anything as Harry got up and drew the man into a tight hug, holding him close as if he was going to disappear at any moment.

"Sure thing, pup."

He sat between Narcissa and Andromeda. He looked left at Andromeda.

"Hello, cousin."

Andromeda smiled as she squeezed his hand, he looked right to Narcissa.

"Hello, cousin."

Narcissa nodded.

"Continue prongslet."

Harry glared at his godfather.

"And who do you think you are talking to?"

"Sorry, oh, Mr. wise and powerful, do continue with your wonderful tale."

"Ass." Harry whispered to barking laughter but continued, nonetheless.

"It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map."

Sirius snorted.

"I bet you that's Minnie."

"Don't call me Minnie, Mr. Black."

Sirius' barking laughter filled the room, a warm feeling expanding in Harry's chest at the sight of his godfather.

"I'll take that bet, cousin." Tonks said.

"Put your money where your mouth is, darling." Sirius cooed, setting 5 galleons down on the table.

Tonks smirked, setting her own coins on the table.

"For a second…" Harry continued, "Mr Dursley didn't realise 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."

"Definitely Minnie."

"Mr. Black!"

"Oh, come on. You know you love me." Sirius chortled at the annoyed Professor, who only huffed in response.

"What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light."

"What else could it have been hmm…? Magic, maybe?" Hermione stated.

"Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back."

"I have to say Minerva, it does sound an awful lot like you." Albus deadpanned.

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

"Along with all his intellect and wit." Harry muttered.

"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."

Minerva sighed, rubbing her forehead. "So much for the Statute of Secrecy."

"Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes…"

"Hey, they aren't funny!" Sirius stated, rather loudly.

"They are for muggles, Siri. Muggles don't wear cloaks." Harry said plainly.

"Oh, right."

"…the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of those 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! 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. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills."

"Harry?"

"Yes, Luna."

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say your name."

Harry smiled at the blonde girl's odd behaviour, but his heart raced as he remembered the feeling on her hand in his.

"Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did, they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning."

"Not anymore."

"Why'd you say that Harry?"

"Hedwig here…" he said, ruffling with owl's feathers, "likes to wake dear Mr. Dursley up at least one hour before his alarm, a little payback."

Hermione shook her head smiling.

"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…"

Harry choked on his coffee.

"That man doesn't walk anywhere!"

"…to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite."

"That makes sense."

"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 lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

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

'—yes, their son, Harry—'

Mr Dursley stopped dead."

"If only."

Everyone held their breath.

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

"Never stopped him before."

"He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had…"

"Harry, that's the wrong word."

"No, it isn't Ron."

"I thought it was called a feletone."

"I did too, son."

"No, Ron, Mr. Weasley, it's called a telephone."

"I'll have to remember that." Arthur muttered.

"…almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid."

"Well, at least he admitted it."

"Potter wasn't such an unusual name."

"There's only one. Our one." Remus sadly announced.

Most cast their eyes down as Minerva dabbed her eyes with her tartan handkerchief.

"He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry."

"Unfortunately, no." Harry replied.

"You're talking to a book mate."

"I know, Ron." Harry sighed.

"Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold."

The twins couldn't contain their laughter at the words. Harry scowled at them.

"All right there, Harvey?"

"Or is it Harold?"

"Can it!"

Harry tuned out their snickering as he read on.

"There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister."

"She hasn't changed." Snape muttered. The only ones close enough to hear were Moody and Andromeda, who opted to ignore the comment.

"He didn't blame her – if he'd had a sister like that…but all the same, those 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. 'Sorry' he grunted…"

"Did I read that right?" Harry scanned the words again "…apparently I did."

"…as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground."

"Is it just me Albus, or does that sound a lot like Filius?"

"Indeed it does."

"On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: 'Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, happy day!"

"Definitely Filius." Albus whispered as Minerva nodded rather vigorously. Both knew the Charms professor could get a tad enthusiastic after one too many Ogden's.

"And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off. 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 home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve 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 this morning."

"How did he know that?" Sirius asked.

"It was sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one, it had the same markings around its eyes."

"Well, that answered your question, Sirius." Remus replied.

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

"100% Minnie."

"And why do you say that Mr Black?" Minerva said, giving him her signature look. Sirius slumped in his seat, wilting under the professor's stern gaze.

"….."

"I thought so."

"Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered."

Sirius didn't reply, but he pouted like a scolded child.

"Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. 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 learnt a new word ('Shan't!')."

"Someone should really sort that child out." Molly chided.

"Too late." Harry spat at the mention of his cousin.

"Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news.

'And finally, bird watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allows 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…"

Harry paused looking over at Mr. Tonks, who had a large grin on his face. He caught Harry's stare.

"Yes lad, that's me alright."

Tonks looked over at her father wide-eyed.

"That's you dad?"

"Yes, Dora. I used to report the muggle news, which was… interesting."

Andromeda snorted at her husband's response.

"…'I don't know about that, but it's not only 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 very wet night tonight.'"

"That was definitely Dedalus Diggle. No matter how much he denies it, that man never had much sense!" Minerva sighed.

"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…

Mrs Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?'

As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. 'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'

'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…'

'So?' snapped Mrs Dursley.

'Well, I thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her lot.'"

"Her lot! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"While I agree with you Sirius, maybe we should let Harry finish."

"But Remus… he… he!"

"Sit down, Sirius."

Sirius stared hard at his friend.

"Now!" Remus snapped, his eyes flashing amber.

After a tense minute Sirius relented and sat, arms folded across his chest, anger written all over his face.

"Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could. 'Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?'

'I suppose so,' said Mrs Dursley stiffly.

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

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

"Well, no one's asking you! Harry is a wonderful name."

"Thanks Mione."

"'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 was waiting for something.

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.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly, but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew 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…

How very wrong he was.

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 in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all."

"Is it nearly time for lunch?" Ron asked.

"Ronald, it's barely half past 10. Do you think about anything else?"

"Not really. But it doesn't change the fact I'm hungry."

Hermione sighed.

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

"Must be a wizard apperating." Moody muttered, the first sound from the auror. "Fool."

"The cat's tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed."

"It has to be someone Minnie knows."

"Nothing like this man had ever been seen in 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 which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots."

"This man is sounding very familiar." Harry stated, casting a sideways glance at the Headmaster who smiled in response.

"His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles…"

"DUMBLEDORE!" several voices chanted.

"…and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice."

"3 times actually."

"This man's name was Albus Dumbledore."

"Knew it." Ron chimed.

"We all did, Ron."

"Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise 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.'"

"Prepare to lose, Dora."

"In your dreams. And, call me that again and I'll hex your bal…"

"MISS TONKS!"

"..ls off!"

The twins looked at the young auror, her hair now a mixture of red, orange and blonde, resembling the flickering flame of the fire.

"You know Tonks…"

"You're pretty ballsy…"

"We like it!"

"He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter."

At the mention of this Harry paused, leaning down, he whispered in Dobby's ear, who nodded and popped away.

Hermione cocked her head in confusion, while Ron just looked at his friend.

Dobby returned a moment later holding a small box in one hand and a small silver object in his other. He promptly handed them to Harry who patted his small friend on the head.

"What's that Harry?"

Harry just looked at Hermione as he drew a clove cigarette from the box and lit it with the lighter. He inhaled deeply, exhaled grey.

"Harry! You're too young to smoke." Molly howled.

"But old enough to die."

Molly fell silent at that.

Propping the cigarette between his lips, he read on.

No one else commented on his habit, not even Snape, but the Potions professor already knew.

"He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest streetlamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clocked the Put-Outer…"

"It's called a deluminator, actually."

"How did you know that, sir?" Hermione asked, curious as ever.

"I invented it."

"Awesome." Ron whispered.

Albus just smiled.

"…until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their windows 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."

Sirius leaned forward, eager for the identity of the cat to be revealed.

"He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.'"

Sirius leapt up. "I knew it! I fricking knew it! Hand 'em over."

Tonks reluctantly slid the 5 coins over to join Sirius' as he swept them up and put them in his pocket, a knowing grin plastered on his face. He thumped back into his seat.

"He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone."

"Where'd it go?" Ron asked.

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation.

"Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman…"

"Well, thank you Mister Potter."

"I didn't write it, only read it."

"…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."

"That's like the third time the colour emerald's been mentioned." Hermione stated.

"Well, it's a lovely colour." Luna said dreamily.

"It's also Professor McGonagall's favourite colour."

Said professor and several others stared at Harry in shock.

"How did you know that, Mister Potter?"

"You more often than not wear an emerald cloak, you use emerald chalk in class, and you correct your essays with green ink, it was a natural assumption, and you just confirmed it."

Minerva blinked in shock, but shot Harry a pleased smile.

"Her black hair was drawn 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 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 my way here.'

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' 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've already said that Minnie."

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

Some of those in the room had lost friends and relatives to the first war. Molly's head collapsed as she thought of her brothers, who she saw every day in her own twins.

Before the mood could fall anymore, Harry pressed on.

"'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 rumours.'

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 seemed to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?'"

Harry knew what day they were referring to, the day he became an orphan.

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

'A what?"

"They are a muggle sweet, Professor."

"'A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"Professor, Hermione already said that." Fred jested.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. '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."

"You're wrong, Professor." Harry exclaimed.

"Hmmm?"

"Voldemort…"

Several people flinched.

"Oh, grow up. Voldemort… isn't even his real name."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Well, enlighten us then, Mister Potter."

"His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr, Son of Merope Gaunt and Tom Marvolo Riddle – a muggle."

Snape's eyes widened.

"Which means despite all the pureblood bollocks he spews, he himself is a half-blood."

"Very true, Harry. But may I ask how you know this?"

"He told me." Harry shrugged.

"What?!" Exclaimed several people.

"In the graveyard, he told me I stood on the bones of his filthy muggle father."

"Muggles aren't filthy." Hermione defended.

"I know Mione, he's just nuts."

Sirius snickered at that.

"Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, 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 second that, Professor." Luna said softly.

"Me too." Echoed Hermione.

"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 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 my new earmuffs.'

Ron and Sirius turned a little green at the thought.

"Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'

Harry knew what was coming.

"It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.

'What they're saying,' she pressed on, 'is that last night Voldemort turned up in…"

Harry suddenly stopped reading, a lump in his throat. His eyes shining with unshed tears. Luna rose from her seat and silently made her way over to Harry's chair, bending down to whisper in his ear.

"Are you alright Harry?"

The boy shrugged.

"If you don't want to continue I'll take over."

Harry stared up at the blonde girl, her blue eyes were completely sincere. When Harry spoke his voice was strong but shaky.

"This… this is something that I… have to confront Luna. Sooner or later."

The girl nodded.

At Harry's words, several people realized that Harry had never processed his parent's death. Sirius and Remus who had lost 3 of their friends became sullen. They lost two to death and that was easier to accept than losing one to betrayal.

"…Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that…"

Harry breathed deep before he spoke the words.

"…that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're dead. Dumbledore bowed his head."

The real Dumbledore along with everyone else bowed their heads in respect for the dead, so no one saw the lone tear making its way down Harry's cheek.

"Professor McGonagall gasped."

The room was solemn and silent as Harry desperately wanted this chapter to be over.

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

"I still can't believe it."

"Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder, 'I know… I know' he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't."

Harry took a deep breath.

"He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.' Dumbledore nodded glumly.

'It's – it's true?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done… all the people he's killed…"

Harry paused at the soft sob from Molly as she remembered her own brothers who had lost their lives in the First Wizarding War, Arthur whispered softly into her ear and stroked her auburn mane.

"…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.'"

"That's a lie Professor, you know perfectly well how I survived and one day I'm going to make you tell me." Harry said without looking up from the page. Dumbledore just nodded at the statement, knowing that by the time they finished reading these books, so many secrets would be revealed, not just from Harry's past but his own, Severus' and Voldemort's too.

"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."

"My mother gave me that watch when I was a child, she called us her little stars, except me, I was little moon."

"Us?" Ron asked.

"Me, my brother Aberforth, who we will probably learn about later on and my sister."

Harry found it strange that he mentioned his brother by name but not his sister. Harry was the only one who understood the look in the Headmaster's eyes. It was grief. Harry turned his gaze to Ron, the hard look stopping any further questions.

"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?'

'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.'

Harry's mood darkened, the air around them turning cold and icy.