Chapter three.
Every voice in the room started at once, all asking the same question what had happened. James tried to call above all the voice but no one could hear him. Grandma Amelia held her wand to her neck and said "Quiet down everyone" the whole room when quiet and turned to the woman. Amelia nodded to James he took a careful step forward "Take a seat everyone and I will explain what is happening" he said clearly. There was a scuff of chairs and a few mummers. He turned to each face and smiled he saw professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape, then he turned to his rather larger family Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Percy Grandma Weasley, grandpa Weasley. Then he saw Sirius, Remus, Grandpa James, and Grandma Lilly, then Tonks, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Neville longbottom. Each face had an expectant look. He cleared his throat "well it good to see you all, and now you will all want to know why you are here first, I think I should tell you how we are, I'm James, this is my sister Lilly and my brother Albus, these are my friends Rose, Hugo and Scorpius and this is my Great Grand mother Amelia" he stopped to take a breath Grandpa James look at his mother "What are you doing here?" he asked rather rudely, Amelia looked at her son "James potter don't you dare use that tone with me young man" she said sternly Sirius laughed Amelia turned her stare to him "Sirius Black, don't you dare start or I will deal with you too" she said in the same tone Sirius put his head down "sorry Mrs P" he said embarrassed. She nodded "now boys I want you on your best behaviour, now don't interrupt my great grandson…. Carry on dear" she said.
James suddenly realised that there were three people missing he turned to Rose "where are the dursleys?" he asked in a whisper Rose swore under her breathe "hang on I will summon them" she said in a rush then darted from the room. She reappeared a few minutes later she had three more people in tow James knew this was Petunia, Vernon and Dudley. Rose directed them to seats and they sat looking extremely uncomfortable. Rose went to sit next to Albus and Hugo; James looked at the dursleys, but never spoke to them. He looked at Scorpius panicking. He had lost all track of what he wanted to say, Scorpius nodded towards the parcel on the table. "O right, so you want to know why you are here? So you should all know each other and if you don't you will at some point, anyway the reason you are here is because I have information I want you to know, and each of you has a part to play, I can answer some question but not all. Amelia is going to read you some book about D… Harry's future so it can be changed if you want to, decided after you have heard the books" James stopped. He looked round the room again and met several confused faces. He knew this was going to be difficult but boy was this hard. Grandma Weasley was eyeing him he knew the look well she had given it to him many times when he was younger, it was the ' your not telling me everything look' she quickly looked away he saw professor Dumbledore looking at him a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.
Amelia cleared her throat behind him "perhaps I should start reading dear" she encouraged gently James nodded and took a seat next to Rose. Grandma Amelia picked up the first book and read the title
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
There were several mummers in the room, Harry look completely confused.
"The book appears to be from Harry's point of view, this should be enlightening" Amelia said giving her grandson a warm smile, harry didn't really know who this woman was but he decided that he would wait before he asked one of the man questions that had came to him since he had arrived here. But he couldn't take his eyes of his mother and father he had wanted to go to them to hug them but they didn't appear to know who he was. He felt hurt by the fact that they had ignored him. He didn't even acknowledge his aunt and uncle's presence in the room he wanted to be stay as far away from them as possible, even more so now he knew this book was from his perspective.
Amelia continued
THE BOY WHO LIVED
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say
That, they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made
drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did
have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. 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."
The dursleys were faced with disgusted stares, Lilly Evans looked at Harry and realised that he must be her son from the future, she moved a little up the couch she shared with James, Sirius and Remus, and called him over, Harry got up and walked to his mothers side " Harry, come and sit with me" she said sweetly. Harry almost ran to her side he had wanted this for the last ten years, now it was happening he was meeting his mother and his father, his father looked at the boy that was his son, and felt a warmth in his heart, he knew that he and Lilly would have a future together she was going to marry him, he relaxed a little, but the ring in his pocket seemed to weight a ton now, and it felt like it was on fire
"When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of
Something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day."
Vernon Dursley answered the furious stares "why we are here this is about the boy, Boy what have you dragged us into this time I swear…" Vernon trailed off, he didn't want to make the threat that he had in mind in a room full of weirdo's, and he didn't like they way the room kept staring at him and his family. Molly Weasley's face was bright red with anger, but she held back the words she wanted to say, it wasn't her place Harry's mother was in the room and it was her place. But she knew that for the last ten years Harry had lived with the muggles, she had offered to look after Harry shortly after the potter had died, but Albus had said that the safest place for Harry was with his family.
Amelia seemed to see that everyone wanted to talk "I will give you time to talk at the end of the chapter, but for now I would like to get through each chapter in one go" she informed them that seemed to quieten the room down.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes's 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 parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. 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. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. 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. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. 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. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...
There were a few growls in the room and the intensity of the stares that the dursleys were getting, Molly shouted "HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW HIS NAME… YOU… YOU…" She couldn't find the words to show her anger and disgust at them, Arthur pulled molly into his arms to hold her in place while soothing her. Amelia her self was furious that one of her family was being treated this way, she wanted to curse the dursleys, Scorpius put his hand on James's arm and held Lilly tighter to him. The children of the trio had heard very little about Harry's life before the wizarding world. They knew of course that he had been treated badly by the muggles (he couldn't even think the name). Amelia seemed to know that the James and his siblings were angry but they seemed to be holding to her request unlike the older generation. She continued
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, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!".
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Vernon whispered under his breath "bloody weirdo's" he had hoped that no one would hear him, he had know when that man had hugged him that there was something very strange about him, but it wasn't until later, after the boy had been left on the doorstep that it must have been some of his lot. He was still wondering why he and petunia and Dudley had been brought here. He could make no sense of it. He didn't like being stuck in a room full of witches and wizards. James Jnr. was gripping his wand, but he got a look from Rose that told him to leave it alone.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour? Mr. Dursley wondered. 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 had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Shan't!"). 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 newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
"Dedalus Diggle no doubt" professor McGonagall muttered to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore simply nodded his head, Snape Just looked bored. He had been glancing over in Lilly Evans direction since they had arrived. He was shocked to see her again. She had died ten years ago from his perspective, he saw the way she was holding the boy close to her, and envy ran through him, he had loved her dearly but he had made the biggest mistake of his life, letting her go like he did. He secretly wished that she was holding their child, not potters.
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. "Err - 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 just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you
know... her crowd."
"HER CROWD" shouted James sr. "what the hell is that meant to mean" James sr. was painfully aware that his mother was in the room but he didn't care, no one insulted Lilly like that, Amelia look at her son, she approved of his tone and defending this girl
"Why is it so hard to get an answer out of you?". McGonagall asked him sounding exasperated, she had been used to this for years but of course she wished he would just tell her what she wanted to know without all the fuss
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."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. 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 very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over- it couldn't affect them...
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 on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. 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 realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat,
which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and
clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He
clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on 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 window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"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," 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 Dursleys' 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 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 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?"
"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 Dumbledore, who was un-sticking 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 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."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
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 lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. "Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it...
Oh, Albus..."
At this everyone in the room looked over to the couple, Lilly and James looked down, this news was the last thing they wanted to hear, at least they knew there son was safe, Harry clung tighter to his mother, he had tears in his eyes, and his father pulled his mother and him closer to him trying to sooth them.
Lilly had a feeling that they would learn lot about how much Petunia hated the wizarding world. Ever since they were kids, she and Snape had found that letter from Dumbledore. She gave her sister a sour look.
Amelia read the last few lines, and felt stinging in her eyes, her son and daughter in law would die and her grandson would be left with these horrid muggles
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 Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. 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.
All eyes where now on Harry. He hid his head into his mother. James senior. nodded to him mother to continue.
"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's
done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy?
It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
Sirius got up for the sofa he was sitting on, and made his was round the room, to comfort Minerva. Who had been looking at her old students, holding their son, tears slowly falling from her eye's. She accepted this comfort.
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
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. 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."
"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.
"Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
"I was going to tell you that you had no idea how much of a bad idea it was leaving harry with those muggles, harry deserves far better than they can provide, maybe we could look into alternatives now" Minerva Said smugly to Albus Dumbledore, Albus looked at the boy who lived, he was sure it would be safer at his aunt and uncles, but he had seen the results of the treatment he had received , the small scrawny, black haired, green eyed boy, was miserable, and completely in the dark about his life, his family and the part they played in bringing Voldermort down.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor
McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing
carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
Sirius was distraught over the death of his best friend and his girlfriend, well soon to be wife. He couldn't bare the atmosphere that had filled the room. He decided to cheer everyone up but had no idea what to do, he wanted them off the topic of Prong's death. Clearly it was going to take a lot to cheer this crowd up. He would have to work pretty hard on it. If this was the start of the story, it looked like it was going to get worse before it got better.
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right
before the Muggles started swarming' 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 curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"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 and gave him what must have been a very 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- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or
we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. 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 takin' 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.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect
astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his
blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"
"That is the end of the Chapter, feel free to talk now" Amelia announced, she waited she watched the little family huddled together on the couch, Her grandson was clinging to his mother, tears in his green eyes.
At the back of the Vernon spoke "good we will be leaving now" he pulled at his wife's hand to get her on her feet, she quickly followed, with Dudley in tow. How ever in a move so fast that everyone in the room had to check who it was the Dursleys were trapped inside a Magic cage. The eyes searched the room to find both Lilly Evans, And Lilly Potter. On their feet wands pointed at the dursleys. Both women looked at each other, Sirius laughed "looks like you aint going anywhere, take a seat "Remus watched this with a small smile on his face. He had a theory at to what was happening at least 3 of the six them that had brought them here were descendants of Lilly and James. But had no idea who the other 3 were, but in any case, the six had worked very hard to bring everyone forward in time, and by the looks of the ages two different time periods, very complicated indeed, and the purpose of this was to pass information on to us all. Remus very much wanted to talk to the six.
Amelia called to the room "how about something to eat, then we will continue onto the next chapter" she waited, then a little voice called back "yeah im starving" his ears turned pink as everyone looked at him, then there were a few giggles from the younger the Weasley's.