Alright, this is now a proper story!
Chapter 1
It was a cold winters day on 3rd January in 12 Grimmauld place, and all the occupants - all the Weasleys, Harry and Elva Potter, Hermione Granger, a few of the order, including Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, - as well as Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom were all sat in the large living room, curled up on couches, armchairs or the floor.
On the coffee table in the middle of the room, seven books were spread out on the top, a note held in Albus Dumbledore's hand. Peering over his glasses at the others in the room, Dumbledore cleared his throat before reading out the words on the paper.
Dear Everyone,
Sorry for the surprise, but we felt we needed to do this so that you can have a broader understanding of what is going on. These books will help you to understand what the Potter Twins have gone through for the past four and half year in school, as well as what their home life is like. The books are to be read in this order;
Potter Twins and the Philosophers Stone,
Potter Twins and the Chamber of Secrets,
Potter Twins and The Prisoner of Azkaban,
Potter Twins and The Goblet of Fire,
Potter Twins and The Order of The Phoenix,
Potter Twins and The Half-Blood Prince,
Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows.
We hope that these books will help certain people's future decisions and help others understand what has been going on these past few years. Time has been set so that it goes slower to the outside world than it does inside Grimmauld place, so you do not need to worry about not making it to school on time next week. We have taken the liberty of cancelling all engagements and called in sick for some of you at your work places. You are not expected to re-surface until next week, when you have, hopefully, finished the books.
Do not be surprised if more people show up during the duration of the readings. We hope you do not do anything drastic to those who do appear.
Before we go, we need to tell you that some of the things written, some of you won't like. We beg you not to over-react, or start blaming people or delivering punishments until all seven books are read and you understand everything. As the stories progress, we will also be sending some more notes so that things make more sense.
Enjoy the books, some of it is quite good!
Sincerely,
E.L.M, L.S.P, D.L.M and K.C.H
There was silence throughout the room as the occupants digested the information given to them from the letter.
"Who are they? The initials are rather hard to make out?" Harry Potter spoke up first. He was curled up on a beanbag close to the fire, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley on either side of him. Luna Lovegood sat on an armchair behind him, curled up with his head resting against her knees. Neville Longbottom sat on a chair next to her, leaning up against one side with his legs thrown over the other arm.
"Does anyone know someone with any of those initials?" Remus Lupin asked softly. He was on one of the three couches, sitting on one end with Sirius Black on the other end and Elva Potter squeezed in between them, half asleep. Fred and George Weasley sat on separate bean bags at their feet.
Everyone thought deeply for a few minutes before everyone gave an annoyed shake of the head.
Dumbledore pursed his lips lightly before leaning forward to grab the first book Potter Twins and The Philosophers Stone. The old headmaster was sat on another couch, Professor Minerva McGonagall seated next to him. Professor Severus Snape sat on an armchair to the right of the couch, and Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody sat on one to the left.
Molly Weasley leaned forward from where she was sitting on the last and largest couch, her daughter Ginny beside her and her husband, Arthur on the other end.
"What's that picture, Albus?" She asked.
From her place in a semi-circle of five chairs, Nymphadora Tonks bounced in her seat as she listened to the answer, for she couldn't see it clearly from where she was sitting. On one side of her, two separate chairs sat Charlie and then Bill Weasley. On her other side, Kingsley Shacklebolt and then Percy Weasley sat.
Dumbledore peered at the front cover through his glasses.
"It appears to be young Harry on a broom, with Ms. Elva standing in the stands beside him." Dumbledore replied before clearing his throat and looking around at everyone in the room. "Should I start reading?" He received nods in return, and nodded himself before opening his mouth and starting to read.
CHAPTER ONE
The Twins Who Lived
Harry groaned loudly, and Elva sighed, burrowing her head into Sirius' side.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
"You're very welcome!" The twins exclaimed pompously.
"Who are the Dursleys, and why are we hearing about them? I thought the chapter was about the twins?" Tonks asked.
"The Dursleys are our relatives, and I guess its about them because we live with them now." Elva said quietly, voice slightly muffled due to her not removing her face from Sirius' side, but clear enough that everyone in the room could hear it.
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.
"What do they mean by that?" Charlie asked. No one answered, although Harry shrugged lightly.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
"What're drills?" Arthur asked excitedly.
"They're a tool that has an attachment that spins and makes holes in things like walls and wood." Harry explained before Hermione could.
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.
"Lovely." One of the twins remarked.
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 neighbors.
"Delightful." The other twin exclaimed.
The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
"Fine?" Harry asked.
"Small?" Elva turned so that she was facing the room, and everyone could see her raised eyebrow and amused eyes.
Ron, Hermione, Luna, Fred, George and Arthur snorted.
"That boy is neither small nor fine." Arthur declared.
"Arthur!" Molly gasped.
"Sorry, Molly, but its true. That boy is not small."
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.
"What could they be hiding?" Bill asked.
They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"What's wrong with the Potters!" Nearly everyone exclaimed. Harry grinned at them happily whilst Elva smiled into Sirius' side, where she was once again buried.
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.
"UnDursleyish isn't even a word." Hermione sniffed
"James wasn't good for nothing!" Sirius exploded.
"Why would she pretend she didn't know Lily? Lily was brilliant, who wouldn't want to know her?!" Remus asked, incredulous.
Snape stayed quiet, though his mind was screaming profanities and the people who dared say Lily was good for nothing.
The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had two small children, too, but they had never even seen them. These children were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.
"We wouldn't want you mixing with a child like that either." Sirius said seriously to the girl leaning against him. He sent a look to Harry to show he meant him as well.
"What's wrong with Harry and Elva?" Charlie asked.
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,
Fred and George gasped.
"No, not the boring tie!" They cried. "Why would anyone chose the boring tie?!"
and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
"Brat." McGonagall muttered, glaring slightly at Dumbledore
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
"Really, so unobservant." Molly tutted.
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.
Molly tutted again, shaking her head.
"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.
"He's encouraging it!" Percy cried, not believing that anyone could encourage that type of behaviour, even from a toddler.
"That's the Dursley's for you." Harry murmured.
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.
The twins' eyes suddenly got wide.
"It McGonagall!" They announced.
Everyone turned to look at the Transfiguration professor. She blinked at them before smirking slightly.
The teens all laughed at the expression.
"And only normal cats can't read." Ron said, imitating Percy
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.
"Well, he's easily distracted." Remus observed, raising an eyebrow.
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.
"What's strange about cloaks?" Ron asked. "We all wear them."
"They don't in the muggle world, though, Ron. People only wear cloaks on Halloween, when their dressing up, in the muggle world. They find it strange." Hermione explained.
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 weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak!
"They aren't being very careful, are they?" Sirius observed, amused.
Elva shook her head against him.
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.
"Short attention span." Charlie said, raising an eyebrow.
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 nighttime. 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 sure shouts a lot, huh?" Fred asked the room.
"He does enjoy a good shout." Elva said quietly.
He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk
"He walked!?" Harry and Elva asked in unison, startling a laugh out of Sirius.
"No, seriously, if he had the choice, he wouldn't walk anywhere." Elva told her Godfather.
across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
"Oh, that makes more sense." Everyone laughed at Harry's revelation.
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 —"
" - And the daughter, Elva, wasn't it? - "
Mr. Dursley stopped dead.
"Yeah!" The twins cheered.
Molly looked about ready to reprimand them, but was cut off by Hermione.
"Its a figure of speech."
Everyone else kept silent, picking up on what day this was. Many of them sent pitying looks to the Potter twins, but they both ignored them.
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 dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.
"Hah, he admits it!" Elva exclaimed uncharacteristically. Sirius glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow.
Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had children called Harry and Elva. 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.
Everyone looked over to Harry.
"Hmm. . . No, doesn't suit you." Hermione said, her finger against her chin as she studied the black-haired boy.
"He didn't know your name?" Sirius asked quietly.
Harry shook his head.
"Still doesn't, I think."
He wasn't even aware he had a niece, although he vaguely remembered Petunia complaining about her freak of a sister getting a daughter when she couldn't. He didn't think her name was Elva, though, maybe Evie or Erin.
"Nice names, but I think your names better." Remus said, glancing down at the girl and placing a gentle arm around her shoulders.
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…
"He does." Harry and Elva muttered at the same time before grinning at each other. Many of the children in the room, as well as Sirius, grinned.
but all the same, those people in cloaks…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"We've seen the size of that man, and knocking someone down must have hurt." Fred and George declared.
"Hope he was alright." Luna whispered, causing some people to jump, as they had sort of forgotten she was there.
"Sorry,"
"He knows that word?" Elva asked, shocked. Harry had an expression showing as much shock on his face as Elva's voice had just expressed.
Everyone else laughed, except from Snape, who scowled at the book.
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!"
"Idiot! He could have exposed us!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
"His arms fit?" Ron exclaimed.
"Ronald!" Molly reprimanded.
"What!? He is really fat!" Ron defended. Molly tutted, but didn't say anything else as Dumbledore continued reading.
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.
Hermione opened her mouth as if to tell him exactly what a muggle was, but Ron interrupted before she could say anything.
"Its a book, Hermione." He reminded her. She glared at him, but shut her mouth.
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.
"How can he not agree with imagination!?" On of the twins cried.
"Well, he did pick his most boring tie for work, so its not that much of a surprise." The other twin said.
They stared at each other for a few moments with serious expressions, before turning away from each other and back to Dumbledore. Hermione, Ron and Harry stared at them incredulously.
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.
"How can you sit there for that long?" Elva asked McGonagall quietly. Everyone who heard looked at her curiously. McGonagall just stayed quiet, tightening her lips until they looked white.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.
"OH! Its McGonagall!" Sirius exclaimed. Those who had remembered it from earlier in the chapter gave him a blank look and he deflated, slumping back into his seat, hugging Elva tighter to him in consolation at his forgetfulness.
Was this normal cat behavior?
"No!" The twins laughed, sending a grin to their Transfiguration Professor.
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.
"Wonder who wears the trousers in that relationship?" Tonks asked, speaking up for the first time in a while, which surprised some people as they knew how boisterous she could be.
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 ("Won't!").
"That's nothing to be proud of!" Molly exclaimed, disgusted.
"What bad parenting." Snape commented silkily. "No wonder Mr. Potter's the way he is." Ron glared over at the Potions Master, but everyone else just ignored him, though Sirius wondered why he only said that about Harry and not Elva.
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,"
"That's my dad." Tonks said proudly. "He was a news reporter person a few years ago."
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."
"Bet the shooting stars were Dedalus Diggle, he never did have much sense." McGonagall said sternly.
Dumbledore chuckled as he remembered something, causing McGonagall to shoot him a suspicious look.
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…
"If that stupid whale of a man figured it out, its a wonder no one else did." Moody said gruffly, not used to speaking like that.
"Yes, but he already knew about it, didn't it." Kingsley said to the room.
Dumbledore sighed before he returned to reading, wondering what the reactions would be when it got to him leaving the twins on a doorstep - he knew how protective these people were of them, especially Sirius and Remus of Elva.
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.
"Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.
"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."
"What do they mean, 'her crowd'?" Sirius asked dangerously, but nobody answered.
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."
"Its the name of your father, you should be happy that Lily named him after him. At least she didn't name her son Dudley." Sirius sneered. Harry shot a grin over to his godfather, which was immediately returned.
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." He swallowed before continuing. "And they had a daughter, too, didn't they?" He asked, praying his darling wife wouldn't erupt.
"Yes." Petunia sneered disdain. "Elva. Horrible, silly name, I think, but I suppose those freaks think its normal." She sniffed and turned to leave the room.
"Your name isn't common even over here. I don't even know where James got the idea to name you that." Remus said.
"My dad named me?" Elva blinked, turning to look at the werewolf.
"Yeah, didn't you know?" Remus asked, his eyebrows lowering.
Elva shook her head, and Remus tightened a hand around a thin bicep, throwing an amber-eyed glare at Dumbledore, who gulped and refrained from breaking out in a cold sweat.
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.
"A pair of what?" Remus growled threateningly.
"Freaks." Harry answered hesitantly. Everyone who heard growled, causing the people who didn't hear to look at them curiously, but were unable to ask what was going on as Dumbledore continued.
The Dursleys got into bed.
The twins snickered, but stopped when their mother, Ginny and Hermione all threw glares his way.
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.
"This is the only time I'm going to say anything like this, but if only he was right." Harry said, glaring at the book in contempt.
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.
"That is a long time without moving." Neville commented quietly.
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.
"Yeah!" The twins, Ron, Harry, Neville and Sirius cheered. Dumbledore chuckled, sending a wink of a twinkling blue eye to Elva when she grinned at him.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
"Oh, I knew, I just didn't care." Dumbledore corrected, smiling as he glanced around the room.
Harry's eyebrows furrowed in anger when he realized the old man didn't look into his eyes, and breathed sharply through his nose, glaring at the man when he turned back to the book. If the man realised that holes were being burned into his forehead, he didn't show it.
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.
"Awesome." Ron whispered reverently.
Dumbledore chuckled once again, and slowly rummaged around inside his robes after he'd put the book down on the seat next to him in the little space between him and McGonagall, soon pulling out the exact thing just described in the book. Flicking it open, he clicked it, and the light in the lamp in the nearest corner of the room flew from the bulb and over to the held up rectangular piece of metal and was absorbed into it. He clicked it once again, and the light went flying back to the lamp.
"Its called a Deluminator." He told the group.
"I want one." Ron whined quietly, dodging Hermione's arm enough that it only grazed his side.
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."
"How did you know it was her?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I believe that question is answered in the book, my dear." Dumbledore replied mysteriously.
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.
"Why did you sit there all day, Professor?" Luna asked quietly.
"You will see, Ms. Lovegood."
"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."
There were snorts around the room as everyone remembered the exact sentence being uttered. McGonagall turned a dull shade of pink.
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"Eleven years are a long time." Elva said quietly.
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
Everyone's heads bowed as they recognised, finally, what day it was. Sirius' arm tightened from where it had moved to Elva's waist, and Luna reached out to hold Harry's shoulder as Hermione and Ron grabbed a hand each.
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"I think that is a bit of an understatement, sir." Elva commented politely. Dumbledore chuckled, reaching into an outside pocket of his robes, pulling out a paper bag, from which he took one of the yellow, cellophane wrapped sweet.
"Yes, My Dear, I do suppose as well." He said softly around the sweet in his mouth before returning to the book.
"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."
In the room, a number of people flinched, and Dumbledore, Elva, Harry and Sirius sighed whilst Remus smirked slightly at the rest of the room.
"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." Harry recited. Dumbledore beamed at him, though Harry noticed that he still avoided looking in his eyes.
"And also increases the guy's ego." Elva said.
Everyone chuckled, and Sirius grinned down at his god-daughter, slightly surprised by what she had said.
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too noble to use them, sir." Hermione said.
Dumbledore chuckled as he continued reading.
"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."
The twins gasped, jumping from their seats to point at Hermione, though one of them - George, Elva knew - fell over mid jump and ended up on the floor, though he still kept pointing.
"Mini McGonagall!" They shouted. Hermione blushed at them, glaring whilst everyone else laughed at the three of them, especially George falling over.
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
"Not something we needed to know, Professor." Harry said cheekily.
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
Everyone looked sadly at one of the Potter twins, but they ignored it, steadfastly staring at the book in Dumbledore's hands.
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.
"I did not know what to say." Dumbledore said sadly.
"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 rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Elva chocked out a small sob, not liking the fact that it was said so outright. Sirius tightened his hold a bit more and pulled her until she was sitting in his lap, wrapped tightly in his arms. Her legs were spread out in front of her, and Remus grabbed an ankle tightly.
Harry had lowered his head, and with surprising strength, Luna pulled him towards her, and Harry only just managed to keep on his beanbag as he was dragged backwards until his head hit her thigh. Her small hand was soon tangled in his hair, and he relaxed as it pulled slightly on the strands. Hermione and Ron had kept their hands in his, and they had tightened as well in comfort.
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"
"Nice to know you care, Professor." Harry told her.
McGonagall nodded, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes
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 children, Harry or Elva. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill those two little children. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Elva Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a two little children? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did they survive?"
"Yeah, how did we survive?" Harry muttered grumpily.
"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know." He took a deep breath. "We also do not know which child he was targeting, as you know that the Avada Kedavra can only kill one person at a time, but from what I have gathered the past few hours, it seems to be Harry who was hit."
"How could you tell?" Harry asked curiously, but Dumbledore gave no answer except to continue reading.
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.
"What sort of watch is that, Professor?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Its an old family heirloom, Ms. Granger. Most Pureblood families have one to pass down to the oldest son."
Bill nodded.
"Mum gave me one that used to belong to the Prewitt family."
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 and Elva to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."
"No their not." Elva said suddenly.
"What?" Dumbledore asked, startled.
"Our father was a pureblood, he's related to nearly everyone else, and although nearly all the Potters have died out, there's a squib cousin somewhere in Yorkshire, and we're closely related to the Blacks through our Grandmother. And we have quite a few cousins on our mothers side, didn't you know that her family is really big?" Elva said quickly, straightening from her slumped position on Sirius' lap.
"What?" Dumbledore and Harry asked simultaneously.
"Don't you ever study our family tree?" She directed at Harry incredulously. "And didn't you check both out father's and mother's family trees? And didn't you grow up in a pureblood family? - I know they all learn family trees, didn't you?"
Dumbledore only just managed not to gape at her, but the rest of the room had no such luck.
"How do you know that?" He asked.
Elva shrugged, looking imploringly at the old man for him to answer.
"Yes, I did grow up as a pureblood, however in my old age, we tend to forget things."
Elva raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.
"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 and Elva Potter come and live here!"
"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" Sirius asked lowly, almost getting up from his seat before Elva wrapped her arms tightly around his torso.
Molly pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.
"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! They'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter Twins day in the future
"Oh my Merlin, there isn't, is there?" Harry asked desperately, horrified at the thought.
"No, My Boy. The paperwork got lost in the process and no one was able to find them." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes suggested that something else had happened to them.
Snape sneered at the boy, seeing the relieved look on his face. He couldn't believe the boy didn't like his fame, after all, he was just like his father, but he was beginning to have some doubts.
Pursing his lips, he looked over to Elva who was now leaning on Black's shoulder, and relaxed slightly into his chair, preferring the female Potter to her brother, and not having any problem believing the relief on her face.
— there will be books written about them — every child in our world will know their names!"
"Wish they didn't." Harry and Elva muttered at the same time, causing a small smile to flitter across those who heard faces.
"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until their 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 are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Elva underneath it.
Molly's face said what she'd do if that was the case. Dumbledore swallowed quite loudly before he continued, thinking of what she might do when she finds out about how he left them.
"Hagrid's bringing them."
"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Harry said strongly, Ron and Hermione nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, just not my secrets." Elva tacked on.
The others chuckled, remembering exactly how bad Hagrid was at keeping secrets.
"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?"
"What is it?" Molly asked, worriedly glancing from Harry to Elva.
The twins nodded excitedly when she wasn't looking their direction.
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.
"That's mine!" Sirius said excitedly, removing an arm from around Elva and waving it excitedly in the air.
The teens all chuckled.
"She's called Hetty!" He said proudly. Elva giggled against his chest as she turned to muffle the noise.
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.
"You make him sound so scary." Ginny said, smiling at the thought of a scary Hagrid - it wasn't easy to imagine, after all, Hagrid was the big friendly half-giant.
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, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."
"One of the best things I'd done that night." Sirius said sadly. Elva's arms tightened around his chest.
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol, though Elva's still a little awake." He said, glancing down at the blankets.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, were two babies, fast asleep. On the baby boy, under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. He was holding tightly to the other baby, who was a little girl this time. She was a bit smaller than the boy, with a clear forehead, though they could see a long, star like star on her left hand where it was over the top of the blankets.
Harry lifted a hand to smooth his fringe over the lightning like scar, unconsciously blushing as everyone looked over at him.
Elva traced the weird scar, trying not to clench her hand as Sirius glanced down to see it. It wasn't as popular as her brothers, but most people still knew about it, and she'd always avoided touching people with it, although she was left handed so it was made easier by her having something to hold sometimes when people came to shake her hand.
"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "They'll have those scars forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Yeah, isn't there, Dumbledore?" Harry asked, almost begging.
Dumbledore just shook his head.
"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.
"Really?" Ginny asked, looking curiously at her Headmaster, only looking away when her mother landed a small hit on her hand.
Well — give them here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."
"Well, if that's not cold." Elva muttered sarcastically.
"What did you do with them, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked.
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I — could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over the blankets and gave both babies what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Hey! I take offence to that!" Sirius cried.
Those who didn't know of his animagus form shot him a curious look.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"Yeah, and like a giant motorbike won't." Elva remarked bitterly.
McGonagall developed a small red blush over her nose.
"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 and Elva 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 and Elva 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.
"You left them on a doorstep!?" Sirius roared, moving Elva carefully off his lap and standing up, storming over to Dumbledore. Molly was already there, shouting criticism at the old man.
"It was November! In the middle of the night! They might have froze! Didn't you think of that? And what if they'd woken up and crawled off - I remember Harry crawling, and Elva had already started to walk by October!" She ranted.
"And stray Death Eaters! What if they'd followed Hagrid, or decided a bit of Muggle Baiting was in order to get revenge for their Lord! Did you do anything to protect them!?" Sirius raved.
By the end of it, Dumbledore was looking a bit downcast, his head slumped towards his chest.
"I suppose I wasn't really thinking, not remembering how they could move back them. I hadn't seen them in weeks, so it must have slipped my mind. I did, however, know that no Death Eater would be able to attack them."
The two protective adults didn't look happy, but they both stalked back over to their seats, Sirius picking Elva up out of where Remus had wrapped protective arms around her and slipping her onto his lap when he had sat down.
Dumbledore sighed, glad to have avoided a too big confrontation, though he was sure they weren't satisfied and were sure to start up again sometime soon.
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.
"That's not too good." Charlie commented quietly.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Oh yeah, go celebrate when you had just left two children on a doorstep and two of your favourite students had just been murdered. How moral of you." Elva told him scathingly, though quietly.
Dumbledore didn't look up, staring at the book as he continued to read as guilt filled him.
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. 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, Elva." he murmured.
"Thanks, we'll need it." They both muttered.
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!"
"End of the chapter!" Sirius said, stretching his arms up above his head.
Molly glanced at the clock hanging above the roaring fireplace, contemplating something before turning back to the room.
"One more chapter before lunch, I think. We did start reading rather late."
Ron groaned appreciatively, rubbing his stomach for effect. Harry laughed at his best mate and Hermione elbowed him in the side.
"Ok, who wants to read next?" Dumbledore asked, looking up from the last page and pushing his half moon glasses up his nose.
"I will, Professor." Hermione volunteered.
The book was levitated over to the Gryffindor, and she flipped to the right page, taking a deep breath before she started.
"The Vanishing Glass."