The Boy Who Lived

Number Four, Privet Drive was a very normal place. So normal that it erased anything that seemed odd or strange. But its occupants, the Dentleys, aren't exactly normal. They actually embrace differences and the odd, however.

Nicholas is the director of a firm called Grunnings, responsible for making drills. He's a portly man, who is starting to shed weight, with short brown hair and a moustache. He also wore glasses. Patty, his wife, had a full figure with large hips in particular with long red hair and green eyes. She's also currently in her ninth month pregnant with their first and planned only child.

The couple had a good life together. They love each other, have a good home, steady income and have a child on the way. Of course they share a secret. But not the kind they're ashamed of, it's the kind for safety: The Pendergasts. Mrs. Pendergast, in particular, is Patty's younger sister.

Her sister was also married to a man who was very different to say the least. She knew they had a child named Arthur. She knew because her sister sent a letter and photo shortly after he was born. He looked so cute, especially because he had her and her sister's eyes.

The two woke up on a dull and grey Tuesday, which didn't even hint at the mysterious and strange things that will happen throughout the country. Nicholas was humming a tune he loved as he was fastening his tie around his neck as Patty was in the middle of cooking.

Neither of them even noticed a rather large tawny owl flutter past a window.

By the time it was half past eight, Nicholas picked his briefcase up, kissed his wife on the cheek and even kissed her baby bump, getting a kick in response.

"Already a tyke." He chuckled as he exited the house. He then got into his car and drove out of Number Four's drive.

When he reached the corner of the street, he noticed the first of various signs of odd things: a tabby cat reading a map. He realised immediately what he saw but he just shrugged it off and continued driving.

At the edge of town, he found himself in the usual traffic jam and that's when he saw people in cloaks out and about. At first he assumed this was a new trend with young people but then he looked closely at a couple of the people in cloaks next to his car, who were whispering excitedly, and noticed that one of them was a man much older than him and wore an emerald green cloak.

Nicholas felt a bit awkward but after a few minutes, the traffic moved and he was able to get to the Grunning car park, his mind on drills.

Nicholas' office on the ninth floor had a window and he always sat with his back facing it. Therefore, he wasn't aware of the owls swooping past in broad daylight, gaining the attention of people in the street, pointing and gazing open mouthed as one owl after another sped overhead.

Meanwhile, Nicholas conversed with five different people and made several important calls on the phone. He felt that today was going well as lunchtime came and he made his way across the road to the baker's to get a pasty and a cup of coffee. Next to the baker's was a group of people in cloaks, like the ones he saw at the traffic jam. They too were whispering excitedly.

When Nicholas made his way out with a pasty and coffee in hand, he was able to hear some of what those people were saying.

"The Pendergasts, that's right, that's what I heard…."

"...yes, their son, Arthur…."

This caused Nicholas to stop dead in his tracks. He now knew what kind of people they were and he also grew concerned for his in-laws. Either way, he found himself marching back and hurried into his office, telling his secretary to not let anyone disturb him.

He considered calling Patty but he decided not to because he didn't really know what happened with his in-laws and didn't want to cause his wife to worry over nothing as of yet. He found himself struggling to focus on his job until five o'clock when he left work and headed to his car.

But he was so focused on his thoughts that he ended up bumping into someone, making them stumble and nearly fall.

"Sorry." Nicholas apologised. He noticed that the man was wearing a violet cloak and instead of being upset, he actually split into a wide smile.

"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!" The man proclaimed in a squeaky voice, causing some passers by to stare. The man then hugged Nicholas before walking off.

He found himself rattled slightly, knowing without a doubt what that man and the others like him are and whoever You Know Who, they must've been truly evil if these people are celebrating his demise. Anyway, he gets to his car and starts making his way back home.

When he pulled into the driveway of Number Four, the first thing he saw was the same tabby cat he saw reading a map earlier. It was now sitting on the garden wall. And he knew it was the same one because it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Hello, there." He greeted it. It meowed back, its tail swishing back and forth. Nicholas tilted his head slightly, looking at the cat before entering his home.

Patty had a fairly nice day compared to her husband's. She spent the day with their neighbours, Miss Rockwell and her daughter, Rebecca. She talked of this during dinner, unaware that Nicholas was acting differently than he normally would. Then after dinner, he decided to watch the evening news, like he usually does.

"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 explained before forming a grin.

"Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" He then said as the weatherman popped up on the TV.

"Well, Ted, 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 wet night tonight." The weatherman explained.

All of this made Nicholas frozen in shock in his armchair. It wasn't just the people in cloaks, there's also owls and shooting stars all over Britain. And that's excluding the mention of the Pendergasts.

Patty comes to the living room with a cup of tea for her husband and a cup of milk for herself. They sat in silence and it was eating Nicholas up so he had to talk to her.

"Um… dear, when did you last from your sister?" He asked her before taking a sip of his tea. This seemingly random question befuddled her.

"A long while ago. Why?" She asked, her concern coming through her voice.

"Because I heard a group of certain people mention them. And it's making me worried for them." He told her.

"I wouldn't put too much thought into it. Rose and John are extremely capable and even more so since they have their son to care for." She reasoned, rubbing her baby bump.

"I hope you're right." He muttered as the two continued their drinks in silence.

Eventually, they made their way up to bed and before Nicholas got into bed with his wife, who immediately fell asleep, he peered out the bedroom window to see that the tabby cat was still on the garden wall.

Feeling unnerved, he got into bed and wrapped an arm around his wife's round belly, feeling protective. He just hoped his in-laws are alright.

How wrong he would end up being.

As he drifted into sleep, the cat still sat on the wall with no sign of sleepiness and sat so still it would be mistaken for a statue, staring unblinkingly at a far corner of Privet Drive.

The cat didn't even flinch when a car door slammed in the next street or when owls swooped overhead. It was near midnight when the cat even moved.

A man appeared on the corner the cat was watching. He appeared so suddenly and silently that it was as though he popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched as its eyes narrowed.

The man stood out so much on Privet Drive that it seemed like he was some alien. He was tall, thin and really old, based on his silver hair and beard, both being long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes under a purple cloak which swept the ground and high heeled buckled boots. He had blue eyes, which were light, bright and sparkling behind half moon spectacles. And his nose was really long and crooked, like it had been broken twice. This man is Albus Dumbledore,

He seemed unaware that his presence alone seemed unwelcome on Privet Drive. He became busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he became aware that he was being watched as he looked up at the cat, which was still staring at him.

This sight actually amused him.

"I should've known." He chuckled.

Albus ended up finding what he was looking for in his inside pocket. He pulled out what looked a lot like a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up and clicked it. This caused the nearest street lamp to go out with a little pop. He repeated this eleven more times until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, being the eyes of the cat watching him.

If anyone were to look out the windows, they wouldn't be able to see anything outside on the pavement. Albus slipped the Put-Outer back in his cloak and made his way down the street to Number Four, sitting down on the wall, next to the cat. He didn't look at it, though he spoke to it after a moment of silence.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He said, turning to smile at the tabby cat, which was now gone and in its place is a severe looking woman, who wore square glasses in the exact shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She was also wearing an emerald coloured cloak. Her black hair was made into a tight bun. She just looked ruffled to say the least.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked in surprise.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." He replied.

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day." She retorted, lifting up to stroke her left butt cheek, which felt sore.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating with your son? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Albus said, making McGonagall sniff angrily.

"Oh, yes, everyone's celebrating, alright. 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 said impatiently, jerking her head to the Dentlys' 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." She then continued.

"You can't blame them. We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." Albus gently reasoned, only irritating her.

"I know that. 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 stated, throwing a sharp, sideways glance at the older man, hoping he'd tell her something yet he didn't.

"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?" She continued.

"It certainly seems so. We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" He replied.

"A what?" McGonagall asked sharply.

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

"No, thank you." She coldly turned down, thinking this wasn't the moment for a sweet.

"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." He argued, making McGonagall flinch upon hearing the name, though he didn't notice as he was in the middle of unsticking two sherbet lemons.

"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." He continued.

"I know you haven't. But you're different." McGonagall said, half exasperated, half admiringly.

"Everyone knows you're the only one You Know- oh, alright, Voldemort was frightened of." She continued, finally saying the name.

"You flatter me. Voldemort had powers I will never have." He said calmly.

"Only because you're too, well, noble to use them." She reminded him.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." Albus admitted, making McGonagall shoot a sharp look at him.

"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?" She asked, reaching the point she was truly anxious to discuss, the very reason why she waited on a cold hard wall all day, for fixed Albus with a piercing stare. It was clear what 'everyone' was saying, she just had to have him tell her that it's true. Albus, however, chose another sherbet lemon and didn't answer, as though he didn't want to.

"What they're saying is that last night Voldemort turned up at Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Pendergasts. The rumour is that Rose and John Pendergast are… are… that they're dead." She pressed on. Her answer was Albus bowing his head, making her gasp.

"Rose and John…. I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it…. Oh, Albus…." She started breaking down.

Albus reached and patted her shoulder.

"I know… I know…." He said with heaviness.

"That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill their son, Arthur. 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 Arthur Pendergast, Voldemort's powers somehow broke… and that's why he's gone." She went on, her voice trembling. Albus nodded glumly.

"It's… it's true? After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Arthur survive?" McGonagall faltered.

"We can only guess. We may never know." Albus said.

McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes beneath her spectacles. Albus made a great sniff as he pulled out a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. The watch itself was really odd. It had twelve hands and no numbers. Instead, there's little planets that move around the edge. It had to have made sense to him because he put it back in his pocket.

"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" He said.

"Yes. And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" McGonagall asked.

"I've come to bring Arthur to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." He replied.

"Then it's a good thing that they're a loving couple. They'll love him as one of their own." She pointed out.

"Indeed. They will also be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've even written them a letter." He nodded.

"A letter? Dumbledore, do you really think you can explain it all in a letter? We're talking about a boy who will be famous, a legend. I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Arthur Pendergast Day in future. There will be books written about him; every child in our world will know his name." She pointed out.

"Exactly. 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! It's best he grows up away from all that until he's ready to take it." Albus explained his reasoning.

"You're right. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She asked, eyeing his cloak, thinking he's hiding Arthur underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"Do you think it's wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" McGonagall asked, not feeling so sure with Albus' choice.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." He stated, making her look at him grudgingly.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place, but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what is that?" She said, cutting herself off when a low rumbling sound broke the silence around them. It then started growing louder as the two looked up and down the street for signs of headlights. The sound then swelled to a roar and came from the sky. They looked and saw a huge motorbike fall out of the air and land on the road in front of them.

While the motorbike was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting astride it. He was nearly twice the size of a normal man and roughly five times as wide. He had long tangles of bushy black hair and a beard that hid most of his face, hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in leather boots that were like baby dolphins. In his large and muscular arms was a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorbike?" Albus said, relieved to see him.

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." The giant told him, climbing off the vehicle carefully as he spoke.

"Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got him, sir." Hagrid then said.

"No problems, were there?"

"No sir. House was almost destroyed but I got him out alright before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Hagrid informed him.

Both Albus and McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside was a baby boy, very much asleep. Under a tuft of jet black hair over his forehead was an oddly shaped cut, looking like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where-?" McGonagall whispered to not wake the baby up.

"Yes. He'll have that scar forever." Albus answered.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" She asked.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well, give him here, Hagrid, we'd better get this over with." He said, taking Arthur in his arms and turned to the Dentlys' house.

"Could I… could I say goodbye to him, sir?" Hagrid asked. He then bent his shaggy head over Arthur and gave him a very scratchy and whiskery kiss. He then let out a howl that sounded a lot like a wounded dog.

"Shh! You'll wake the Muggles!" McGonagall hissed.

"S-s-sorry. But I c-c-can't stand it… Rose an' John dead… an' poor little Arthur off ter live with Muggles…." Hagrid sobbed, pulling out a large, spotted handkerchief and covered his face with it.

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found." She whispered as she patted him gingerly on the arm. Albus, meanwhile, stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He then laid Arthur gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it in the blankets and came back to the other two.

For a whole minute, the three stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkle that normally shone in Albus' eyes was gone.

"Well, that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." Albus told the others.

"Yeah. I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid said in a muffled voice. Having wiped his eyes of his tears with his jacket sleeve, he then swung himself onto the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and took off into the night sky.

"Go and celebrate with your son, Minerva." Albus said, nodding to her. She sighed before nodding back.

He turned and walked down the street. When he reached the corner, he stopped and took out the Put-Outer. He only clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped their ways to the street lamps, making Privet Drive have the orange glow back. He was able to make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. And he was able to see the bundle of blankets on the step of Number Four.

"Good luck, Arthur." He whispered before turning on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the hedges of Privet Drive, laying silently and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place one would expect something astonishing to happen. Arthur Pendergast rolled over inside the blankets without waking up. One of his small hands closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, totally unaware that he's special, unaware that he's famous, not knowing he'd be woken up in a few hours' time by Nicholas' yell to his wife as he was going to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would be an older cousin a few weeks later to Deacon.

He couldn't know that at this very moment, people would meet in secret all over the country and holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Arthur Pendergast, the boy who lived.

After an extremely long hiatus, I'm back and I'll try to make sure I constantly upload and update any upcoming stories. Again, I have repeat what my profile says: That every story I'm doing from now on is co-written with B.E.A.T.N, who helps me with story elements and coming up with OCs.

I have some solid plans with this series, though I should stress that some elements would seem similar to another HP series on this site, this is a different story.

Minerva in this series would be much younger than she is in the films or books btw.