Disclaimer: I do not own Harry potter, but I'm sure we all wish we did. J.K. Rowlings talent with drawing an audience into a story is worth much more than the money she got in my opinion. While I'm wishing, I would like a slice of pumpkin pie, please.


The cold room was dimly lit by candles on the stone floor. As he looked over the circle and shapes carved into the the floor, he noticed something odd about his body as he checked the runes at his feet.

Ah, his feet. There were no toes? No, he was looking down at his heels.

Oblivious to that information, he continued looking over his work carefully, and a giddy feeling of anticipation and excitement rose. Finally, it was done! He was ready! He closed his eyes.

When they opened next, it was to the echoes of dying gasps coming from behind him. He didn't care about that.

Dying? Why wouldn't he care about that?

No, he was checking over the carvings he had made earlier that was now filled with blood. Awkwardly, he moved the hand holding the final ingredient behind his back...

Only to see a hand holding a vial of pure and shimmering liquid move in front of him. He grew even more confused.

...And he stepped backwards to move forwards into the circle to drip a drop into each blood-filled rune. As the power of the elixir fused with the red liquid, a candle would extinguish and the rune would glow with a soft light.

Then, the last rune was lit.

The world exploded with pain and glory.


A blood curdling scream that pierced through the dark house jerked the Dursley family awake. Vernon scrambled out of bed to yank open the closet door for a bat while Petunia turned on the room light then rushed out into the hallway to tend to her son. However, she stopped in the doorway of her room when Harry stumbled out of his room and into the dark hall with his hands to his face with a groan.

Vernon, right behind her now, snarled at the shadowy figure of the boy as he swayed. "Boy, was that you that made that ruckus?!" he demanded in outrage before moving Petunia to the side to storm towards the child. "You think that just because you found out about your freakish world, you have the right to wake up hardworking and honest people in this house?!" Harry's silhouette in the dark hallway only responded with a cringe when his uncle grabbed him by the arm to begin shaking him.

"Mum? Dad?" Dudley sleepily asked when he opened his room door and stuck his head out. "What was that?" The boy turned the hallway light to look about curiously, then he sneered when he saw his black haired cousin being shaken by his dad but then squinted in confusion. "Why is there blood?" he asked.

Petunia turned her attention back to her nephew and husband then gasped. Harry's face was nearly a mask of blood, and with Vernon's shaking, it was also now all over the boy's sleepwear and droplets were splattering down to the floor. "Vernon," she said sharply as she hurried over. "You're making him bleed all over my clean floors!"

The furious man's mustache bristled up as he let go of the boy who had remained silent but some the muffled whimpers, and he backed up so Petunia could check him over. "No doubt that ruddy bird attacked him in his sleep," he replied coldly. "We should get rid of the blasted creature once and for all."

However, when he turned to storm into the room, Harry spoke up. "No! Please! Not Hedwig," he cried out while reaching out to grab his uncle's pajama to stop him. "She didn't do anything, I swear! It just happened while I was sleeping! I'll stop bleeding on the floors, just don't hurt her!"

Both of the adults paused and looked at the boy; Petunia with concern that she hid under a disapproving glare, and Vernon with disgust. "Another part of your freakishness?" Vernon spat out, but when he turned away from the room to head back to his own, Petunia could see the relief on the boy's face. It had been a long time since she'd last seen him stand up for something.

"Come on, then," Petunia said impatiently as she held a hand out to the boy. "We need to get you to the bathroom to clean that mess up. Dudley, my sweet boy, go back to sleep." Dudley smiled at his mom then closed his room door.

Harry nodded and took her hand so she could tug him into the bathroom where he was sat on the toilet seat. With his eyes looking down into his lap, he couldn't see the concern in hers as she mopped up the blood then began to disinfect his forehead where it had all stemmed from. The scar had split open and looked as fresh as it was when he was initially dropped off on her doorstep.

"Harry?" Petunia asked softly while applying a bandage. The tone of her voice caused the boy to look at her for the first time tonight in surprise. "Did something happen at... the other place to cause this?"

Harry paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression but wary eyes. "No, Aunt Petunia. At least, I don't think so," he replied back finally.

Petunia pursed her lips and Harry immediately dropped his eyes down again. Lily's eyes. She felt a slight pang of guilt for a moment about how the boy was treated, then she shook her head. Well, it's not like she asked for the kid to be dropped on her doorstep. "Make sure you clean up the floor," she said in the more brusque manner that Harry was more accustomed to and got a nod in response before she turned and left.

On her way back to the room she shared with her husband, she warred with her emotions. She felt bitterly angry still that she was saddled with a freak without warning. a baby left on her front stoop on a cold November day with only a note to tell her of her sister's death and how she had to care for a child she didn't want. Buried beneath that, though, were feelings of remorse for her lost sister and the child that came from her. As always, it made her direct her anger at the only living person she could take it out on, but the guilt also made her step in when Vernon was getting too heavy handed.

As she got ready to sleep again, she could hear the sounds of the water faucet running in the bathroom for a couple minutes, no doubt cleaning up all the blood in his messy hair, and then she heard Harry's room door close quietly. The house settled down again and she fell asleep with thoughts of how angry Lily would be at her if she had still been alive.


"Quirrell... there isss an errand I want you to make for me," the newly resurrected Dark Lord hissed to the minion kneeling at his feet. His pale white hand stroked the velvety black robes he was now wearing as the blood red eyes looked down at the quivering wizard.

"Yes, Master?" Quirrell asked in a tone both fearful and eager to please.

Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a pleased smile at the tone. "In the morning, I want you to retrieve the boy. You still have the position at Hogwarts as the next Defense professor. Speak to Hagrid about where the boy lives, the oaf is stupid enough to give it to you."

"Yes, Master," Quirrell immediately agreed before getting up to back away, bowing the whole time, but stopped when his Lord cleared his throat in a clear tone that he was not dismissed as of yet.

"There is one more thing you must do at the ssschool," Voldemort said. "And you must not fail with either tassk. On the ssseventh floor, in the corridor, there is a tapestry of Barnabuss the Barmy. You are to pace in front of the wall across it three times while you think of a good place to hide something." Voldemort smirked when he could feel the confusion from Quirrell from such an odd instruction. "A doorway will appear then. You are to go in, seek out a headdress wearing a diadem by a cabinet, and bring it back. Both tasskss are to be done while nobody iss about, so I suggesst you start now."

Quirrell nodded without looking up and quickly made his exit with the clear dismissal. Once upon a time, Voldemort would have crucio'ed a minion immediately if they had tried to exit without permission, but he kept that urge at bay this time.

Once alone, Voldemort took a deep breath and settled into a chair. Ten years as nothing more than a wraith had given him a reprieve from the insanity he had suffered due to the horcruxes he had created, though he could already feel it starting to claw at the edges of his mind once again. He had a very short time frame to start his plotting before Dumbledore could confirm he really was here, and the key to getting a jump start was his as-of-yet Unmarked minion. He will not be branding Quirrell until the man's use without the controlling tattoo was through.

He also needed to do a few more things while said minion was busy.

Voldemort stood up gracefully, moved to the table that contained the hard-sought stone, and plucked it out of the air to pocket it within his robes. Then he spun on his heel and focused on the place he had hidden for ten years with a confident smirk.

Apparating into a clearing deep within the 'haunted' woods the locals no longer dared to enter, he hissed loudly. $Nagini, my pet. I have returned asss promisssed.$

A few minutes passed and then the twisted and nearly dead bushes nearby rustled when a small and green grass snake slithered out. $Greetingsss, massster,$ she hissed as she came closer to him. $Do you need help finding another to posssessss?$

Voldemort hissed with a low chuckle as he stooped down to gather her up. $No, my preciousss one,$ he replied. $Thiss iss the one I originally wore. Now, asss promisssed, I sshall grant you what you want when we return home. It will be painful, though, asss I warned you long ago.$

Nagini gave a delicate snake-like snort. $And asss I said back then, it isss better than being the victim in the tale of the Eagle,$ she replied back primly. $I want powerful venom and a larger form so as to have the power to change the tale. I no longer wisssh to be made fun of by the aderssssss.$

Voldemort smiled at his vain companion and nodded his head in agreement. The complaints on poisonous adders was something he'd heard many times in the last decade and it still caused him amusement even after all this time.

$As you wisshh, then,$ he agreed before spinning on his heel to apparate to his next destination.

The new location was an overgrown yard that belonged to the crumbling remains of the Gaunt's old mansion. Voldemort paused to catch his breath while Nagini hissed in his arms with anger at the sudden transportation. Most wizards were lucky to be able to do cross-country apparition. Voldemort, with his magical strength, could cross several country borders easily normally. However, he had just done it twice in the span of only a few minutes after attaining a new body but a couple hours ago. It had sapped a lot of magical energy that his body hadn't stored up yet.

But time, and the clawing of his split soul, was pushing him. And he no longer needed horcruxes, or at least, not all of them. He now had immortality in his pocket but he wouldn't rely solely on the stone. He just needed to gather enough soul pieces to regain his sanity before he started making the same mistakes he did last time.

$Ssorry, Nagini. I forgot that thisss is new to you,$ he apologized to his companion to placate her. She had been with him for several years, had helped scout out new bodies for him to possess -mainly those of adders that had stolen her meals- and had provided conversation on the nights when all he had was despair of being stuck in an existence of non-life. That was why he apologized to her now, and another reason why he was collecting his horcruxes. He would not be going through with that again if he could help it.

$Jusst make sure you warn me next time,$ she hissed back. $That wass uncomfortable. I nearly lost the lizzzard I ate earlier!$

He rubbed her triangular head while his eyes searched his surroundings. All of his traps and wards had not been triggered the entire time he was gone, and by the look of the overgrown dirt path that led to the house from the main road, it appeared that nobody had been here at all. With a satisfied nod, he strolled towards the hut with the skeletal snake nailed to the door. With grimace of distaste at what he had thought would be intimidating at the height of his madness, his hissed the password to the undead creature so that the building would recognize him as its master to allow him to pass through it all unharmed and went inside. Nagini gave a delicate sniff to show her own dislike of the stale air within the ramshackle hut, and she slithered to wind herself up on his arm under his robe as he glided over to a rusty cauldron sitting in the fireplace.

He reached into his robes to pull out a crystal vial, then poured the contents into the dark green viscous goop within to neutralize the curse. The tar-like substance bubbled up, releasing a foul steam that smelled like an open grave, then it slowly turned into a clear blue where he could see the gaunt family ring at the bottom. Smirking, he pulled out a second vial, and dripped one drop into the seemingly innocent liquid and it immediately dissipated, leaving the ring to itself. He reached in and plucked it out.

He had figured it almost justifying to put the family ring into the cauldron that his mother first brewed the love potion for his father, he mused to himself. Most likely one of his more saner thoughts, because he still felt the same. The trap that had been put in to hide his horcrux, though, was a nasty piece that he had uncovered from ancient Egyptian texts. It was a two fold process. Whereas the thick (and obviously a trap) liquid would immediately eat at the flesh that touched it and expand as though fed, the blue and more innocent looking one was the insidious part. A single touch would cause all of the liquid within to seep into a wizard's magical core to become one with them, and from there, it would painfully curse the victim with mummy rot. He was the only person alive to have the knowledge of the counter curse to the two-fold trap, so had any fallen victim to either form, there would have been no surviving it.

He studied the ring for several seconds, then his lips curled into a sinister smile. With a wave of his hand, an illusion of the ring appeared at the bottom of the cauldron, then Voldemort slipped a flask to refill it once again before heading out. He had the rest of his Horcuxes to collect.


Quirrell spent the whole night scouring the room of requirements before he finally found the diadem he was instructed to collect and put into a bag made of triple weave acromantula silk, a basic precaution when handling very Dark objects. It had been a daunting task only because of the size of the room, but it was nowhere near as difficult as the next part of his mission while at Hogwarts - getting Hagrid to divulge where Harry Potter lived.

It was just after the sun rose when he made his way through the large doors and out onto the grassy grounds. Having already been the Muggle Studies professor for a few years before his fateful trip to Albania, he know where he could find Hagrid. The question he was asking himself was how to get the information out of the gamekeeper? Standing at the bottom of the steps to the castle, he quickly formulated an idea and decided to go to Hogsmeade first.

As he took the dirt path that had been used for centuries by teachers and students alike to get to the wizarding village, his thoughts ended up reflecting over the past few years. He had decided on a sabbatical because he had been tired of teaching ignorant children outdated and often wrong information about muggle life. Being a half blood and growing up in both worlds, he knew the information he had to teach was about half a century out of date. Yet every time he had tried to make a request to the board about better books to use, he would be turned down.

Having been a Ravenclaw while at Hogwarts, he found the spreading of outdated and incorrect information nearly blasphemous. The reasons on why his requests kept being bounced back was also ridiculous, more so when other teachers got to choose their book selections. After the first year of teaching, he was denied because the paperwork was filed incorrectly. The second year, after making sure everything was filled to perfection, the paperwork had been lost. Third year, the board did not have time to review what all needed to be updated due to the need to read over the Magical History curriculum, something that had not been updated even while he still attended the school. That last reason was what made him rethink what class he wanted to teach since it was blindingly obvious that the board did not want it changed. The last set of forms he completed to see about getting the class updated before his sabbatical didn't even get a response.

He only found out the truth after he met the Dark Lord in "Albania".

The path that led him in that direction was his search for the descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw. As a student, he had written a five foot essay on her for class. History spoke in passing about her having had a single daughter, however nothing beyond that was noted. At the time, he had dismissed it and focused mainly on writing up on the founder he chose, but only in his final year of schooling did he find a book in the Ravenclaw common room that hinted about something even darker that might have happened.

It was a very old book about the common plants that could be found in the forbidden forest written in Gaelic by a student around the time period of the founders. The nameless author had mentioned in passing that Rowena Ravenclaw had been dying and she had hired a baron to go find the daughter who had been missing in Albania. Having found no connection to the country north of Greece to the four founders, he began to look through muggle texts. And what he found out was astounding.

During the founder's time, Albania -or Alba- was the Latinization for Scotland. Helena Ravenclaw was somewhere in Scotland and had run away at a young age, and where she went and why intrigued him. Unfortunately, that journal did not contain further information besides that the great Rowena had passed away without reuniting with her daughter.

He got to the three broomsticks around this time, and putting on a timid countenance once again, he entered.

"G-greetings, Rosmerta," he greeted with a twitchy smile as he approached the bar. "Lovely m-morning, yes?"

He kept his annoyance hidden when the lovely witch turned to him with pity in her eyes even as she gave him a welcoming smile. "Yes it is, professor. Have you stopped by for some breakfast?" she asked sympathetically.

He wrung his hands for show while shifting on his feet uncertainly and shaking his head no. "N-not t-today, Madam," he replied back. "I need a few b-bottles of fire w-whiskey. G-going to meet up with an old f-friend tonight."

"Oh, that sounds delightful!" she said over enthusiastically, and when she turned to retrieve the bottles, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her back. He was supposed to be traumatized by his sabbatical, not turned into a six year old. "Here you are, one galleon a bottle."

He fumbled four out, dropped one and leaned down to snatch it up while giving her an abashed look, then accepted the bottles she passed him over. "Th-thanks, p-p-pleasure as always," he stuttered out while he backed away to the door, then quickly fled the establishment.

Once he got a bit aways, he slowed down his pace and sneered. People were gullible, but not he. He penetrated a secret thought lost for almost a thousand years when he searched out where the lost Ravenclaw might have fled to. During his leave of absence, he sought out every magical forest until he stumbled across the Dark Lord. There, he got all of the answers he sought and then more.

Helena Ravenclaw had stole her mother's diadem and the baron had caught her and killed her in the very forest that he had found his master in.

The muggle study curriculum was deliberately held back for a specific, though: control. The purebloods didn't want it known that muggles had progressed so far, and that worked because they also taught their children to stay away from mudbloods if they were a dark family, or to help them integrate into the wizarding world if they were a light family. The muggleborn themselves knew that the course was a joke, but they had no voice in the Wizengamot or the school board to promote change.

In short, the wizarding world itself wanted to stay segregated. Not just Britain, but almost all of it. They cited the Statute of Secrecy for the reason, but that deliberately created ignorance would get them all killed one day. Even if they stayed hidden, if the muggles themselves ended up declaring another world war, it could be the end of everyone just through fallout from nuclear warfare. Wards could not help if the skies were blotted out until the sun was blocked and the waters all polluted.

He knew this without Voldemort having to explain it like his master would have to to the purebloods when the time came. His master had explained to him, though, that a madness had overcome him during the last war and that the fear of muggles had overtaken his mind. The past ten years of isolation as a wraith had helped heal a lot of it, he was told. Then, his master had promised him a position if he joined him, a job that he had originally wanted, but it wasn't really available for a half blood like him.

He smiled wide as he walked into Hagrid's hut, keeping a cheerful demeanor while having to spend time with an imbecile by thinking about his future as a researcher. The Ministry didn't allow half bloods to work in the Department of Mysteries unless they had contacts, so now he was forging his own path forward.


Albus Dumbledore was pacing in his office once again. Had he had carpet or rugs, they would surely have been worn threadbare along his normal route. As it was, the stone along where he had spent years pacing when he would get stressed out had a visible path if anyone knew where to look.

'Why don't you have some tea?' Fawkes asked him suddenly, the warmth and concern in the phoenix's thoughts easing some of the strain from him.

He nodded and snapped his fingers. An elf appeared immediately. "Tea please, Dizzy?" he requested with a smile before the small creature could ask, and with an eager nod, Dizzy levitated some books off of his desk where tea was set out just as he liked it. He sat down on his chair with a small groan.

"I have been summoned to the ministry, Fawkes," he explained to his companion after a couple sips. "Most likely to discuss Harry Potter. I can't divulge all of the information, though, and I'm in a dilemma on how to explain why I sent him to muggles."

Fawkes crooned softly in reply and Dumbledore gave him a tired smile. "Well, thank you for understanding," he said, grateful that the spat that had been lasting for a few days seemed to finally be at an end. "I can't tell them about the blood wards. If that information fell into the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic for the boy himself. If I tell them where he was, then he would become a target by the press, well meaning fans, and the death eaters that we were unable to round up. I've been in the spotlight after defeating a dark lord, and it's not a pleasant place to be. I really want to protect him."

'I still don't see why you can't visit him to make sure he's not abused,' Fawkes replied back, though without the rancor this time.

Albus set down his tea cup and rubbed his forehead. "It could draw attention, first off. People are always watching me, Fawkes," he explained before leaning back into his chair with a sigh. "Whether it's to keep track of my movements, because they look up to me, or they covet my position, someone could take note if I disappear."

'But the wards only protect against whose with the Dark Mark, right?' Fawkes pressed. 'What of his own family? We've had muggleborns in school that were severely abused by their own family. Some ended up never returning again in some instances. Wizards treasure their own heirs and descendants, unless they are insane. That insanity seems to run in a lot of muggles?'

The headmaster shook his head no in reply. "It's not an insanity, Fawkes. Magic herself, I believe, keeps us from harming our own children unless its twisted by a sickness of the mind," he explained. "Muggles have no magic, so they can cause harm to their own children without being insane. I would have bound the boy to anyone else if I could have, but James's parents were taking away by dragon pox, and Lily's parents, too, had already passed on. Her sacrifice would have been for nothing had I not given the boy up to Petunia."

Fawkes clacked his beak a couple times before he launched himself off his perch to land on the back of Albus's chair, and he started grooming the long grey beard affectionately to comfort him.

"Yes, it was a hard decision," he admitted as he stroked his familiar's neck. "And one I wish I could afford to regret, but I cannot. I do regret that I put all of my eggs in one basket, however. I should not have relied so heavily on the prophecy, for had I not, then I would not have lost the stone as well."

The bird stopped grooming to look Dumbledore with curiosity shining in its black eyes. 'Why not use a love potion to make the muggles love him?' he asked mentally.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say it wasn't possible, then he shut it and stared back flabbergasted. The bird didn't mean the kind of love potion that induced feelings of obsession and/or lust, he meant the kind that might give them a more familial feeling. His eyes wandered away from the coal black ones as he pursed his lips in deep thought while going over what he knew about those kinds of subjects.

"There is an old story about changelings..." he said slowly, breaking the silence after several minutes. Fawkes waited patiently for him to continue. "Changelings is what the muggles would call babies that were swapped out while in their cradles. In ancient times, before Hogwarts was even founded, if a witch or wizard came across a child in a muggle village that hated magic, they would swap out children with another family in a different village where magic was more accepted. It wasn't a wide or common practice, but it happened often enough for the muggles to add it to legends. And when the child would get old enough, the wizard or witch would come along and collect them as an apprentice, sometimes without even telling the family. There... might be a potion in some of those old texts."

Fawkes picked up on grooming the silver beard once more when the old wizard went back deep in thought once again. Not another word was said until he had to leave for the ministry half an hour later, and the phoenix accompanied him on his shoulder.


That afternoon, while Dumbledore was busy at the ministry, Petunia answered a knock at her door. Seeing a middle-aged man in a respectable business suit standing there, she smiled politely.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked.

The stranger gave a polite smile back and gestured to a briefcase he held. "Yes, ma'am. Are you Petunia Dursely?" At her nod, he continued. "I'm here on behalf of Harry James Potter. May I come in, please?"

Petunia's polite smile turned strained. "What do you want?" she asked, her pretense of politeness gone. "If you're one of those freaks, you-"

She was interrupted when the man leaned in closely. "It's about the allegations of abuse," he stated in a low and cold voice, his own pretense of politeness gone. "Now, may I come in or would you like to cause a scene?"

Petunia let go of the door she had been holding tightly and backed into the house, allowing the man to enter and close the door behind him. "Now, we can do this nice and easy, Mrs Dursley, or it can be very difficult for you and your husband," he continued in his cold and smooth voice as he opened his brief case. "I have here custody forms that you can sign as the child's guardian."

"Who are you," she demanded, suddenly finding her voice though it shook with fear. "I demand that you leave my home!"

He gave her an unimpressed look even as he pulled out some paperwork. "Your abuse is written all over the newspaper in the wizarding world, Petunia," he informed her without answering her question. "This is for the safety of you and your family as much as it is for the safety of Harry Potter. It will only be a matter of time before someone finds this address because of how famous the child is." He smiles cruelly. "What will you do when dozens of enraged witches and wizards descend upon your property? You have no way to defend yourself from magic, muggle."

Petunia put a hand against her chest but glared right back at the wizard. "The boy telling lies again?" she hissed angrily. "He's just an attention seeker. We took him in, raised him, provided him food and clothing."

The man gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Food? The child is half starved! Clothing? He wore rags four times his size at his first appearance back to the public," he spat back at her, and when she flinched at his words, his face smoothed back into neutrality and he offered her the papers. "Sign these, Mrs Dursely, and you need never hear back from me again."

Petunia looked at the sheaf of papers he held then back to his face, then hesitated. "Or from any others of your kind?" she asked warily.

He smirked. "Harry James Potter is considered the savior of our world, Mrs Dursley," he explained calmly. "I will not divulge your address to anyone should you sign, nor will my employer, but I do suggest that you pack up and move since I cannot speak for all witches and wizards. They have been calling for blood in the papers for the past few days."

Petunia paled and snatched up the forms. "Harry!" she shouted up the staircase even as she went to snatch a pen on the table that held the telephone in the hallway. "Pack your things up, boy!" With her back turned to the man, she failed to see the triumphant smile that appeared briefly on his face.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked in confusion when he appeared at the top of the steps to see her signing forms on the table while a tall man waited by the door.

"Don't ask questions," she snapped without looking up. "Just pack everything you own into that trunk you got. You'll be going with this man to your new home."

The stranger caught the conflicting emotions that moved across Harry's face before the pale boy turned to dash to his room. There was fear, elation, worry, and something else he couldn't identify before the boy had fled. He went back to watching the sour horse-faced woman as she signed the last of the papers without even reading what she signed.

Her eyes turned even more fearful when he pulled a small silver knife out of his pocket and offered it to her along with a vial. "I need you to fill the vial with your blood as well for proof," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that allowed for no argument. "That is, if you want to make sure that the Ministry of Magic won't come to harass you over the legalities of it. Wizards have a way of knowing if blood is willingly provided or not."

She gave a short nod as she exchanged the signed papers for the knife and the vial, but she still hesitated. "You swear that this will keep your kind's legal system away?" she asked. When he nodded, she set the vial on the table, and with a shaky hand, unsheathed the knife.

After a couple of timid attempts where she barely broke the skin but couldn't get it deep enough for blood to well up, he gave an impatient sigh. "Just give it a good jab," he finally said. "Otherwise you're just causing yourself pain without getting results. Once enough blood comes out, the knife has enchantments on it for the wound to automatically seal."

Petunia swallowed hard, gave a jerky nod, then closed her eyes and jabbed her palm. Her nervousness caused her to stab more deeply than she needed, and she gave a panicked cry after dropping the knife, but before he thought he might need to intervene, she snatched up the vial to let her blood fill it up. When it was done, the wound sealed itself and she set it down on the table before leaning against the wall.

"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," he said as he moved forward to collect the knife on the floor and the blood filled vial. "Is there anything you would like to say to your nephew, or should I head up there to help him finish packing?"

She shook her head then looked at him. "You got to understand, we didn't want him at all. Dumbledore left him at our door with only a note saying that if we didn't take him in, Lily's curse would ensure our son would pay the price," she said desperately. "The note said that we were the sole surviving members of his family, and that if we did take him in, there would be protections to ensure all of our safety from your kind."

The man looked at her unsympathetically, but there was a curious tilt of his head. "Do you still have the note?" he asked and she pursed her lips hesitantly. "It would provide evidence to help redirect some of that anger off of you and your family..." he prompted suggestively.

She gave a curt nod. "Let me go fetch it, then. Stay here," she ordered before going up the stairs herself.

Harry was the first to appear at the top of the stairs with his trunk. He appeared to have tried to straighten his hair but failed in the attempt. "Sir?" he asked as he looked about for his aunt.

The man pulled a wand out at flicked it at the large trunk while gesturing for Harry to come down. "Your aunt went to retrieve something for me," he soothed. "Is this everything you own?"

The boy nodded, then hesitated before making his way down to stand awkwardly next to the wizard. The trunk was floated over to the door before being set down. A minute later of silence while the boy tried not to fidget, Petunia reappeared once more and headed back down the stairs to offer him an aged envelope.

"Here, this is it," she said without once looking at her nephew. "You can leave my house now."

The man accepted it with a polite inclination of his head and a slightly mocking bow. "We will do so, then, ma'am. Pleasure doing business with you," he added before gesturing to the front door. "Let us go to your new home, Harry Potter."

Harry nodded and gave his aunt one last sad look before he turned to gather up his trunk, then he left the house he had grown up in without looking back to see that Petunia had watched them both leave through her open door before the man placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to disapparate them both with a loud crack.


A/N: Thanks for the reviews and the follows! Sorry on the late chapter, I was going back and editing chapter 1 and 2. Chapter one had a lot of heavy editing done on it since I decided to keep the beginning part of the story focused on the other character's perceptions since there are so many of them! Soon the playing field will narrow down, though, and I'll be doing Harry's side of the story besides the tidbits here and there with his dreams and stuff.

For those curious about the reference to Albania here, Scotland was indeed called Albania from the 9th to the 11th centuries! That would have been the time period the Founders were about as well. And the time period that Helena was murdered by the Baron when it was said she ran to Albania to hide the diadem. There is also only one type of snake Scotland has, the deadly adder, with occasional sighting of the green grass snakes. I chose for Voldemort to end up hiding in the Albania Helena died in since that was where he would have had to have gone to find the diadem and thus knew it well. The country of current day Albania never made sense to me since Rowlings only used France and Germany, and even then it was because of the Triwizard tournament. It's also an interesting theory I haven't come across in other fanfics, and I do enjoy fun bits of trivia like this =)

Special thanks to my sister and my best friend for taking time to point out some of my grammar mistakes! I'd also like to thank CaseLC and Dr Stranger for their wonderful critique! I will strive to continue to improve my writing and story telling.

Sorry for the cliff hanger, I didn't do it intentionally, but I didn't want to cram more into this chapter! Next chapter: Vanished.