AN: I know I said I didn't plan to write any more to this story but the bunny kept hopping about...

It has been interesting to write so far since I keep changing who's viewpoint the story is told from. This section is mostly from Vernon and Prof McGonagall's POV. I will probably do at least one more section covering 1st and 2nd years. (Everyone keeps asking about the basilisk.)

The Beginnings

24 June 1989

Vernon Dursley sat down to enjoy his morning meal with great happiness. The large man felt something akin to pure joy this morning. If there was one thing Vernon Dursley adored was receiving his rightful due as one of the brightest, driven, and gifted men in the whole of England. Too many of the refuse and degenerates that tainted to title of 'Englishman' worked to sabotage and undermine his efforts and keep him from his proper place.

But for the last five days, everything, EVERYTHING had gone Vernon Dursley's way.

Oscar Howard had signed the Bolson account on for a five year deal for a ludicrous mark-up that would add tens of thousands of additional pounds profit for Grunnings. Old man Grunning already promised Vernon a bonus that by itself was sufficient to pay all of Dudley's first year at Smeltings!

Then his precious heir to the family name had his ninth birthday. His son would take all of England by storm! Vernon Dursley was an excellent judge of character and potential in job applicants. In his son, Vernon Dursley saw true greatness. Why, he wouldn't be surprised one day to see his son named Prime Minister! Yes, indeed. And after that he would be given a title and elevated to the House of Lords for his successive contributions to the British Empire. The Dursley name would finally take its rightful place in the elite of British society!

And the final item topped it all off. His wife's freakish nephew had not been seen in the whole five days! The little freak disappeared after the Howards left. Or more precisely, he never returned. Vernon hummed in enjoyment as he chewed his breakfast and considered this development. Maybe the brat was taken by some deviant paedophile to be used and his body to be dumped in a ditch somewhere! What a wonderful thought!

Vernon's sick, twisted daydreams were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and then closing.

"Pet? Back from the market so soon?" he called.

"No, Uncle Vernon, its me."

Vernon looked up, his face already turning red with anger. But something stopped him from erupting.

The brat stood there with his clothes full of mud and twigs. His jumper was torn over his left shoulder like it had been caught in a thresher. Also it looked like tar had been poured down his front. Dudley's old trainers were missing as were the boy's socks. The boy also seemed bigger; almost as tall as Dudley. But what made Vernon pause was when his eyes met the boy's eyes.

The boy's glasses were missing. Instead, his green eyes, so much like Pet's mother and sister's eyes, seemed to glow with some inner power. It was that power that stilled Vernon's tongue. The boy's eyes conveyed power, strength, and the promise of violence.

Something in Vernon just wanted to curl up and hide from his nephew's gaze.

"Wh- where have you been, boy?" Vernon managed to ask.

"The forest. Something … odd happened. I was attacked by something. I woke up last night in the forest. The remains of two rabbits were next to me. That was when I remembered. I'd eaten them. I chased them both down and eaten them."

"You chased them down?" Vernon asked scornfully. However, his voice sounded hollow even to him.

"I changed. I was faster … stronger … hungrier. I am still hungry.

Without so much as a 'by-your-leave' the boy stepped over to the counter and picked up the plate full of breakfast sausages Pet cooked before leaving on her errands. The boy started to shove the meat links into his mouth one after another.

Vernon stepped forward and made a grab at the plate, saying, "Now see here, boy! I won't have you…" Vernon's shouting was cut off in mid-stream. As he reached for the plate, the boy looked up. The glow in his eyes seemed to brighten ominously and a low, rumbling growl issued forth from his throat. The sound was more felt then heard. Vernon suddenly felt the need to reach the water closet as soon as possible.

Vernon carefully withdrew his hand and stepped back carefully. The boy resumed eating but kept an eye on his uncle.

What had happened to his perfect week? How were they supposed to deal with the boy now?

-I-

Dudley returned home with his friends to find the little freak weeding the flowerbeds in the front garden. Dudley strutted over to his freak cousin. Taunting the smaller boy was always good for entertainment. Sensing their leader's intent, the other boys spread out and surrounded their favourite victim like the jackals they were.

"Decided to come back, freak?" the overweight bully started. "Dad thought maybe you'd crawled off and died to leave us normal people in peace." The minions chuckled darkly at their leader's comment.

The dark haired boy simply ignored them as he mechanically continued to pull the weeds from the moist ground. This silence confused Dudley and his gang. Why hadn't the boy responded? Potter always responded. Whether they admitted it or not, the fire and resistance Potter showed was what made him a favourite target. One-on-one, Potter was a match for any of them except Dudley. But as a group he posed no real threat. In effect, he was tough enough to give them some fun but not enough to be a danger.

"Did you hear me, freak? Or did Dad finally knock you stupid?" Still the Potter boy did nothing to respond. Dudley felt a small trill of fear and uncertainty. This was new.

That uncertainty made Dudley lean over to push the smaller boy into the dirt. Except Potter suddenly stood up, turned and moved to the side in one graceful motion. Dudley barely recognized this as he fell into his Mum's prize rosebushes but his friends saw it.

Dudley gathered a few scratches crawling out of the bushes. As he stood up he was shocked to find Potter simply standing there watching him. Dudley shook off his friends' help as stood to face his cousin.

The part of Dudley's brain that would have been an intelligent, productive member of society if raised in a different environment tried to warn the oaf that something was different in the cousin. The boy was now almost eyelevel with Dudley and stood with a quiet confidence. The oaf barely noticed the target was missing his glasses but the small bit of functional brain noted the other boy didn't seem to be having any problem seeing.

The oaf ignored the brain's repeated warnings. 'Danger, Dudley Dursley! Danger!'

"That's it, Potter!" The nine year-old bully threw a punch directly for his cousin's face with all of his considerable weight behind it. The expected sound of fist meeting flesh was heard but not in the way expected.

The gang stood in shock as Potter caught the punch thrown at him in his hand and simply stopped it.

Dudley stared at his cousin in disbelief. That is when his eyes met his cousin's. Something in those eyes promised violence. The large blonde boy barely felt the warm trickle running down his leg.

"Leave me alone," the freak growled out.

The gang turned to run almost at the same time. Piers Polkis was the first to run but that quickly started the rest moving. Dudley was right behind them.

24 July 1991

The stag bound through the thicket surrounding the farm field ignoring the pull of the branches on its growing antler rack. The stag never paused to look around or check the knee-high plants for something to eat. It had much more important things on its mind.

Such as survival.

The large deer raced across the field in the pre-dawn light towards the other side. Coming close to the opposing edge of the field, the stag slowed to a stop to peer carefully around. Nothing was moving and no sound other than the laboured breathing of the stag broke the silence of the morning.

Tension released from the deer's stance. There was no sign of his pursuer. The hunter must have been lost back in the small forest. It was safe…

A sudden pain poked the stag in the side near the shoulder. Startled, the deer turned its head to find himself nose to nose with a great slobbering beast. Adrenalin and fear shot through the stag. There was no escape!

Sudden pain ripped through the deer's chest and its vision dimmed.

-I-

The most bizarre combination of howls and yelps could be heard coming from the edge of the field. An observer would have seen a very strange sight. A young stag was sprawled in the dirt unconscious while a black-furred beast lay rolling on the ground next to it.

Deer can faint?

Harry finally stood up as he fought to get air into his lungs. 'I know that was mean,' he thought, 'and I must be a horrible person because that was really funny.'

The werewolf moved off into the forest just as the deer started to stir. The beast started to howl again a moment later when the stag stood up with a shocked look of disbelief that it was still alive before bounding off to safety.

A short time later the Beast was sitting in a small hidden glen near a small stream. This place was Harry's favourite place away from his relatives. It was sheltered from much of the weather and had plenty of fresh water. But it was also very peaceful and beautiful. It was a great place to escape the Dursleys and the glares from people that believed their lies.

Harry absently removed a rabbit haunch before squatting down to eat. Fortunately his form dictated what he found acceptable cuisine. The Beast had no problem with raw meat for breakfast. Usually he only hunted smaller animals to eat. The deer would have been too much for him to eat in a single sitting and he had no place to store the leftovers.

Sometimes, Harry felt the need to hunt; to get fresh meat and eat his fill. Harry suspected that the Beast needed more protein than the Durley's meals provided. Petunia Dursley made a lot of pasta and Harry always got the smallest slices of meat. Stalking was great fun. It gave new meaning to the old term 'Harry Hunting'. Once he had his fill, he would divide up the animal's remains and leave it for other creatures of the forest. A number of foxes and similar smaller predators now called the forest home due to the abundant, easy food.

Harry had never stalked a deer before. They were skittish creatures and fast so they were fun to chase. But it just seemed wrong to eat them for some reason.

Squatting in the woods eating the rabbit, Harry considered his last two years. Being bitten by the creature was a mixed blessing to Harry. His so-called family was now afraid of him. The first time they had seen the Beast was when Dudley tried to reassert his superiority by throwing the smaller boy down the stairs the night Harry had returned 'home'. A boy started to fall but it was the wolf that landed on his feet at the bottom of the stairs. The Beast was up the stairs in a blink. Dudley found himself suspended above the floor by the giant clawed hand wrapped around his fat neck.

Dudley found himself with a warm trickle running down his leg for the second time that day.

Since that time, Harry and the Dursleys lived in a state of truce. Harry voluntarily helped out around the house, and the Dursleys pretended Harry didn't exist. Harry never ate with the family but there was always sufficient food left over to feed a growing child.

At school, things remained much the same as before the creature bit Harry. The children at school continued to follow Dudley's lead. Even though it was Dudley that regularly stole money and candy from smaller, weaker students, their classmates believed Dudley's stories that small, dark-haired boy was a crazed killer. Even the teachers were wary of the boy and refused to see to ragged, poor-fitting clothing or meagre lunches as anything but what the boy deserved.

Harry accepted this solitude as an improvement though and spent large amounts of time hiding in the library. The librarian glared at him often, but Harry learnt to ignore her. Instead he sought out books that might explain his condition. He suspected the creature that bit him was a werewolf as it fit some of the legends he'd read. He read many books on werewolves and other mythical monsters looking for answers.

Most of these dealt with superstitions that he felt didn't really apply to him. For example, he didn't really turn into a wolf. One look in the mirror while in Beast form told him that. He looked more like a wolf crossed with a gorilla; a wolf's head atop a gorilla's massive furred body but with legs of a wolf. While he could run on two legs, for real speed he ran on all fours. And his clawed hands and feet were adept at climbing and gripping walls and trees. Aside from his appearance, Harry found he was not dependent on the moon's phases, silver (Aunt Petunia hit him with a candlestick), have furry palms, or any of the other classical 'signs' of lycanthropy. So, instead of calling himself a werewolf, he was the Beast. (It sounded cooler to the ten year-old anyway.)

There were a few drawbacks for his new 'condition'. One issue with being a Beast was hearing. Even in human form he could hear what the other children whispered about him to each other. He ignored them as best he could but they felt like constant little paper cuts; painful and annoying but not something you could do much about. The second was his eyes. His green eyes, brilliant before, now seemed to glow. It seemed to scare anyone he made eye contact with. He was able to deal with that by finding a pair of clear costume lenses that were slightly tinted that would fit in his old frames. They weakened the impact of Harry's eyes but few would still willingly meet the gaze of the young boy.

In human form Harry stepped from the forest to walk back to the Durleys. He walked along the farm lane back towards the park when an odd event even for Harry occurred.

An owl landed on his shoulder.

Needless to say, this freaked the almost eleven year-old out. The owl hooted in an irritated sounding tone as it flapped its wings to return to flight after Harry's startled jump dislodged the bird.

Harry watched a moment as the owl circled him. He'd seen plenty of owls the last two years in the forest but had never seen one act quite like this. Carefully he raised his arm to allow the owl to land on his forearm.

The owl immediately landed although it continued its irritated noises. As Harry was looking at the bird in disbelief, he noticed the envelope attached to its leg. Carefully, Harry removed the envelope. He was startled again then when the bird took off again once free of its burden.

Harry stood watching until the bird flew out of sight. 'That was odd,' he thought as the bird crested the trees. It was then he remembered the envelope in his hand. He glanced down at the envelope and read:

Mr Harry Potter

At the Forest's Edge

Little Whinging, Surrey

-II-

Professor Minerva McGonagall sat in her office receiving the letters from the students. This was her busiest time of the year as Deputy Headmistress. First there were the letters of new First year students accepting entrance into Hogwarts; then the Third years' letters selecting their elective classes; and finally there were the Sixth year's selections of NEWT classes. In addition, she was responsible for notifying the selected prefects, Head Boy and Head Girl of their positions. In short, this all made her a very busy witch.

So the arrival of yet another owl almost went unnoticed. However this owl landed directly in front of her on the picture frame of her brother and his family.

"If you would wait in the designated spot, I shall be with you presently," she primly informed the owl.

For its part the owl merely glared at her with its wide unblinking eyes before imperiously thrusting the leg with a reply on it forward.

"Oh, very well." The witch removed the letter with the ease of long practice. She glanced down and was shocked at what she saw there.

It was a student's letter. And not just any student, but Harry Potters. The Boy-Who-Lived. The most anticipated student since the heir to the throne of England, Prince Edward V, arrived in 1481! Why was his letter being returned?

Noting the seal was opened, she opened it to see a small note in written into the margin of the letter. It read:

Hi,

Not sure if this is a prank or not but that was wicked the way you trained this owl. Never knew you could do that.

What is this about? Where is Hogwarts and why should I go there? Do you really teach magic? Is that like David Copperfield-type magic?

Harry

Professor McGonagall's shriek of horror was heard in the neighbouring professors' offices. Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick both arrived in short order to see what had set off their colleague. (They rather expected some prank from the Weasley twins to be honest.)

"Minerva, what is the matter?" Pomona asked as she entered.

"He… he… he doesn't know anything about Hogwarts or even magic itself!" the professor yelled as she paced back and forth.

"He who?" Filius squeaked.

"Harry Potter! Here, read it!" The Transfiguration professor thrust the paper at the half-goblin professor.

"Oh my," he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "Isn't this David Copperfield the squib that makes a living in the Muggle world as a stage magician?"

Minerva ignored the question as she continued to pace and muttered comments about Albus Dumbledore, his probable parentage, and sanitary habits under her breath.

Well, mostly under her breath. To their enjoyment her fellow two professors caught the occasional phrase.

Then she stopped and looked up. "Albus is not due back from his ICW meeting for two more days. He would probably have Hagrid or, Merlin forbid, Severus go to collect he child. I swear that that man means well but his head is so far into the clouds the lack of oxygen has killed his brain." She nodded to emphasize her point.

"Now, I think I deserve an afternoon off. I shall go visit Mr Potter and see that his questions are answered. Would you two be willing to hold things down for me here?"

Pomona agreed but Filius demurred. "Actually, I would like to accompany you if I may. Lily was in your House but she would have been my apprentice if the war hadn't gotten in the way. I find myself highly curious about how her son turned out."

Pomona smiled. "I can handle things here for the afternoon. I am ahead of schedule in the greenhouses anyway."

"Very well," Minerva agreed. "Shall we go now, Filius?"

Minerva found Harry Potter sitting in the back garden of the Dursleys. The lawn was immaculately maintained, with the hedges trimmed, and the beds fully weeded. If she didn't know better she would have suspected it was maintained by magic or a house-elf. Unfortunately, based on the ragged, dirty clothes the boy wore she knew who the house-elf was.

Harry looked up from the book he was reading as she approached.

"Hello, kitty. Lost?"

Minerva smoothly shifted back into her human form.

"No Mr Potter, I am not lost. I am Professor McGonagall. I just received your reply and wished to discuss it with you."

Minerva was a bit surprised how Harry reacted to her sudden appearance. Rather than fright or shock, he seemed … excited. He jumped to his feet and started to shoot excited questions at her.

"Can everyone magical change forms? How did you manage to keep your clothes? What do you call it? Is it a magical item that makes you change or a skill …."

"Mr Potter!" the professor interrupted him. "Please be patient. I am here to explain to you about magic and Hogwarts."

"Ah, you found him!" a new voice squeaked.

"Mr Potter, As I was saying I am Professor McGonagall and this is Professor Flitwick. I was rather disturbed to receive your reply and wished to discuss it with you. Shall we go inside to discuss this? It is not a topic to be discussed in the open."

Harry flushed at the question. "Er, I'm not allowed in the house right now. They took my cousin shopping."

"Well, why don't we sit in the chairs over there," Filius suggested. "I can make sure no one notices or hears us as long as we do nothing to overt."

Harry agreed and led the way over to the lawn chairs. Minerva took this time to observe the son of two of her favourite students. Harry was a bit shorter than she believed James was at the same age but much more developed. Not like a muggle bodybuilder but more like a Beater. He looked like he'd make a good Seeker as well.

Once they were seated, McGonagall asked, "Now, Mr Potter, what has your family told you of your parents and the magical world?"

"Relatives, ma'am," the boy corrected her. "They told me my parents lived off the dole and died drunk in an auto accident."

"James and Lily die in an accident?" Filius repeated in indignation. The former duelling champion looked ready to explode. Minerva knew exactly how he felt. But she was the Deputy Headmistress and needed to stay calm.

"That is not correct, Mr Potter as you may have guessed." Her words pulled Harry's attention from the indignant muttering of the Charms professor. When she met his eyes she saw the same glint of amusement she recognized from his father but with Lily Evens' eyes. The combination almost broke her heart anew.

"I am afraid I shall have to explain a bit of history. About ten years before you were born an evil wizard appeared in England. He called himself …" She paused uncomfortably before steeling herself. "He called himself Voldemort. Even today we refer to him as 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' or 'You-Know-Who' We call dark wizards that gather followers and attack our world 'Dark Lords'. You-Know-Who was the worst Dark Lord seen in Britain in centuries. Many people died either as his victim or fighting his followers called 'Death Eaters'.

"It was a very dark time, Mr Potter," Filius jumped in. "Professor McGonagall and I were already professors at Hogwarts. Almost every day brought news of another student loosing family members. You father lost his parents in his Sixth year. He was already with your mother. The two of them along with some friends started preparing to fight him. After finishing school your parents joined the Light forces fighting back. Along the way they were married and you came along.

"About this time, the Dark Lord had his people target James and Lily along with a few others. They went into hiding with you. I even helped your mum research an ancient charm to help protect your family." Filius paused a second to smile. "She was brilliant in Charms and Potions. James was excelled in Transfiguration. They were both top students and Heads their Seventh year. I expect the same from their son." Harry tried to smile back but his eyes showed his emotion at hearing something positive about his parents.

Minerva motioned to Filius to wait a moment. Once Mr Potter seemed to regain control, she continued.

"Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had a spy who gave him their location. They were killed on October 31, 1981. Now something happened that night, something no one can really explain." Harry looked a bit shaken at this but also curious.

"Some magic is what we call Dark. The worst of these spells is called the Killing Curse. It kills anyone it touches, no matter where they are hit. There is no sign of pain or even any injury. The person is just dead. Shields do not work against it. The only defence is to not get hit." She looked at Mr Potter to see if he understood. The boy nodded slightly.

"Your father was killed downstairs trying to buy time for you and your Mum to escape. There were signs he put up a significant fight before getting hit by the Killing Curse. The Dark Lord found you and your mother in your nursery." The professor realized her voice had dropped to a whisper but couldn't force it any louder.

"Your mother died in front of your crib defending you. And then he tried to cast the Killing Curse on you." At this point the Gryffindor Head of House's voice completely gave out.

Filius picked up the story for her. "That is when a miracle happed, Mr Potter. The Curse bounced off of you and rebounded onto You-Know-Who. His body was destroyed and you were left alive, but with that Curse scar on your forehead. We don't understand it but somehow a fifteen month old child managed to resist an unblockable curse and defeat the Dark Lord. You are famous in the magical world. They call you 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'."

Little Mr Potter looked shocked and stricken at the professors' revelations. Minerva could only guess at the thoughts running through the poor wean's head. So much dropped on him at once. She'd warned Albus that the Durselys were the worst kind of Muggles. She caught his correction from calling them family.

Minerva conjured three cups of tea. The boy could use it to settle himself. While he sipped his tea, the two professors proceeded to inform him about magic, the magical world and Hogwarts. It was the standard introduction given to Muggle-born students they had done many times before.

"If you wish, Mr Potter, we can take you to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies now," Minerva offered.

The boy nodded, "I guess. I don't think my relatives would take me."

Minerva couldn't suppress a sniff at this comment. She frowned at his small smile at the sound but she was pleased to see it.

The trip to Diagon Alley was almost as bad as Minerva feared.

During the short walk to the out of sight location where she and Flilius arrived at, Mr Potter resumed his earlier questions about her animagus form. She explained it was an advanced technique of Transfiguration requiring a great deal of expertise and practice. Only seven people in the last century had registered success in developing the skill. While Mr Potter seemed a bit saddened by her explanation he had cheered up a bit when she assured him he would be able to do so if he followed his father's footsteps as she had no doubt James Potter would have been successful in the endeavour.

The goblins were the easiest part of the trip although the cart ride disturbed her stomach. She was surprised at the number of coins in Mr Potter's trust vault but a discrete question to their goblin escort explained the wealth. The Ministry paid the bounty for the apparent death of the Dark Lord and paid above market value when they purchased the house the Potters hid in to make it a national landmark. In addition, many private citizens sent money to thank their saviour. While the Potters were a very old and magically powerful family, they had never been in the wealthy political elite of the nation like the Longbottoms or Malfoys. While they owned a fair amount of land in Wales, the family was known for its fighters and magical researchers, not politicians or financiers.

Their next two stops went smoothly enough. They purchased Mr Potter's trunk, potions and astronomy supplies with a minimum of fuss. It was in Flourish and Blotts that they encountered their first difficulty. Mr Potter picked up the standard First year texts but decided to pick up a couple of extras for 'background' reading. She was fine with the recent history and Wizarding culture texts but tried to draw the line when she noticed he had picked up a couple of books on dark or highly magical creatures.

On hearing her protests, Mr Potter merely shrugged, saying, "I enjoy reading about the creatures the normal world thinks of as myths. I am really curious to learn what the magical world knows about them."

It was at Madam Malkins that things started to go sideways.

Mr Potter was waiting to be sized when several school age students walked in. She did not recognize them so they must be magically raised students she did not have to visit.

One cute young girl of Indian descent with her long dark hair hanging loose approached Mr Potter. "Are you going to Hogwarts also?"

"Um, yes."

"Hi, I am Padma Patil. That is my twin sister Parvati." She indicated an identical looking girl except her hair was woven into a tight plait. "And those are our friends Daphne Greengrass, Anthony Goldstein, Su Li, and Megan Jones. What is your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

All movement in the shop came to a standstill as Mr Potter's words carried.

"Are you really?" the girl asked in innocent surprise. "I heard you were supposed to be in our class but no one was sure you would be going to Hogwarts. Did you really grow up in the Muggle world? My father says you did but he tries to be funny sometimes."

It warmed to professor's heart to see the boy interacting with other magical children his own age. Harry was a bit shy and shocked at their excitement to meet him, but Minerva thought he handled it well.

What she was not prepared for was the huge crowd that had formed outside the shop. She guessed someone in the shop heard Mr Potter's name and slipped outside to announce it. She was thankful Filius had accompanied her as the rest of the trip had them dealing with the crowd of people that followed them. Fortunately, only a stop at Ollivander's was really required. It was unfortunate the boy would not be able to explore the Alley a bit but such was life.

They were approaching the Apparition point when Minerva drew tired of the crowd trailing them. In a fit of pique she rounded on them and proceeded to inform them exactly what she thought of their behaviour. She was moderately pleased at how the crowd, many of them former students, recoiled from her remonstration and left the area.

Feeling pleased, she turned back to Mr Potter and Filius. Filius looked impressed with her ability to chase off the crowd. Mr Potter seemed to have enjoyed it also as he was smiling as he put his glasses back on. They must have gotten dirty and he took the pause as a chance to clean them.

"Very well, let's get you home, Mr Potter."