I don't own Harry Potter, it's characters or anything associated with it. This is just for fun and I make no money off it.
Chapter 1
The Boy Who Lived
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number four Privet Drive were happy to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were not the kind of people to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they simply did not hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Vernon Dursley, a large, beefy man with a bushy moustache, worked at a company called Grunnings, which made drills. Mrs. Petunia Dursley was thin and blonde with horsey teeth and enjoyed spying on the day to day lives of her boring neighbors. Their son, Dudley Dursley, resembled a pink beach ball with blond hair and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.
They had everything they could want, but they also had a secret. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear the thought of the neighbors or his coworkers discovering his connection to the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Petunia's younger sister, but they spent most of the time pretending the Potters did not exist. Vernon knew the Potters had two children as well, a boy about the same age as Dudley and a girl roughly a year older than the boys. Those children were even more reason for Vernon to keep the Potters away from his family. He didn't want his son mixing with people like that.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when they woke up on a dull grey Tuesday. Vernon Dursley picked out a boring tie for work. Petunia forced a struggling Dudley into his high chair as she gossiped on the phone with one of the neighbors. None of them saw the large barn owl fly past the window.
As he drove down his road, he saw a cat reading a map. He did a double take. There was the cat, but there was no map in site. Cats don't read maps. What could he have been thinking?
During his drive into work, Vernon saw some people walking on the sidewalk dressed in cloaks. He scowled at them. He hated when people did not dress normally. And for some reason, those people in cloaks made him uneasy.
But, he reasoned after a moment, this was likely some kind of publicity stunt. Those people were probably collecting money for some charity. Why else would they be such a while range of ages? Traffic continued and Vernon forced his mind back on drills.
Vernon always worked with his back to the window. As such, he did not see the owls flying past all morning, but the people below on the street did. They gazed, open mouthed, amazed at the strange behavior of the birds. And many of them were not native to Britain either! But Vernon had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He made a few important phone calls and then yelled at a few people. It was a very good morning. By lunch time he was in such a good mood, he decided to take a walk to the bakery across the street for a bun.
As he came out of the shop he saw another group of people wearing cloaks. They were whispering together and, to Vernon's great annoyance, he did not see a single collecting tin among them.
"The Potters," one of them was saying as Vernon passed, "that's what I heard. Their children, Violet and Harry…"
Vernon felt a chill go down his spine. He rushed back to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him and closed his office door. He was almost finished dialing his home phone number when he thought better of it.
No, there was no need to call his wife. Afterall, was Potter such an uncommon name? Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure what his niece and nephew's names were. Maybe it was Viola and Harvey. Or even Verruca and Harold. He placed the receiver back on its cradle and stroked his moustache. There was no need to concern Petunia over a whisper in the street.
But he found it much harder to stay focused on drills that afternoon. He drove home and the first thing he saw – and it did not improve his mood – was the cat from that morning sitting on his garden wall. It had to be the same one. He recognized the markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" he said at it.
It did not move. Instead, it gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Vernon did not like animals as a general rule, so he did not have any past pets to compare this cat with.
Petunia had a perfectly normal day. He told Vernon all about Mrs. Next Door Neighbor's problems with her daughter over dinner and about how Dudley learned a new word: Won't. After Dudley was put to bed, Vernon went to the sitting room and turned on the news.
"Finally, bird watchers all over the country have been reporting odd behavior in the nation's owls. Normally nocturnal animals, today the birds have been seen in broad daylight." The news anchor smiled bemused at the camera. "Most mysterious. And now onto the weather. What do you say, Jim? Anymore showers of owls?"
"Well, Ted," the weatherman said, matching the anchor's smile, "I don't know about that, but it's not just the owls acting strange. People as far as Kent have been reporting that instead of the rain I promised, they got a down pour of shooting stars. I guess some people are celebrating bonfire night early. It's not until next week folks. But I can promise rain…"
Vernon turned off the TV. Owls flying in broad daylight, odd shooting stars, and a whisper on the street of the Potters. It was no good, he would have to say something to his wife. Petunia came in a moment later with two cups of tea for them.
"Um, Petunia dear… you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As predicted, she looked at him with wide, shocked eyes.
"No," she said, her voice softer and quieter than expected. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news and weirdos on the streets today. I thought maybe it had something to do with her crowd."
Petunia's eyes flickered to the picture on the fireplace mantle of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Vernon knew they had died the previous year in a tragic gas leak accident. Petunia did not like to talk about it, same as she did not like discussing her sister.
"Her kids, what are their names?"
"Violet and Harry," Petunia answered quietly.
"Right," Vernon said, his heart sinking.
His final comforting thought before he drifted off to sleep was whatever was happening could not possibly affect them.
How wrong he was.
Below in the street, the cat remained on the garden wall as though waiting for something. Around midnight, the stillness of the night shifted as a man appeared on the street corner. He was as old as he was tall with long silver hair and a beard to match. He dressed in strange robes and a tall pointed hat. He took out what looked like a silver cigarette lighter and clicked it. The street light went out. He clicked it again and the next street light went out. He continued until the street was dark and quiet, unnaturally so. The cat that sat on the stone wall watched him approach.
"I am very much surprised to see you here, Minerva," the man said to the tabby.
With a soft pop the cat was no longer a cat, but an elder woman with black hair and a stern expression. She too was clothed in robes that were just as strange as the old man's.
"How did you know it was me, Albus?"
"My dear, Minerva, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"I just… I had to know if the rumors are true."
Albus sighed as though he was supporting the world on his shoulders.
"They are true. The good and the bad."
"The Potters!" Minerva gasped as her eyes watered. "James and Lily… dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And the kids?"
"Harry is alive." Albus's eyes flickered with worry. "I fear I do not know if little Violet survived."
Minerva shook her head in wonder.
"After all he had done… all the people he's killed… He couldn't kill a simple boy? A baby no less! What's to become of the children?"
"Hagrid has orders to bring Harry here."
"What about the girl?"
Albus's eyes flickered with worry.
"If she survived, she will be brought here with Harry."
"Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
In the distance, a rumbling noise grew steadily louder.
"My dear, I would trust Hagrid with my life."
The rumble became a roar as a flying motorcycle landed. A huge man, twice the height of a normal man and with hands the size of dust bin lids, got off the bike. Two swaddles were strapped to his chest. The first, smaller swaddle was a boy, barley more than a year old. He slept peacefully, despite the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The second, much larger swaddle held a girl. She was a year older than the boy with a fringe of curly auburn hair. A cut ran along from the outside corner of her left eye to her hair line.
"Ah, Hagrid!" Albus said with a smile. "No trouble then?"
"No Professor. Luckily, the squib cousin of the Prewitt brothers got to them before the Muggles swarmed the area. She kept the kids safe until I got there. Looks like Violet just woke up. And little Harry fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."
"I see. And where did you procure that marvelous motorbike?"
"Sirius Black lent it to me."
Hagrid said as he handed the baby boy to Dumbledore and Minerva took the girl. The toddler looked at them with wide, uncertain blue eyes.
"Thank heavens!" she cried. "For a moment… I had started to think the worst."
"As did I," Albus admitted.
Minerva looked at the girl's injury.
"Can you do something about this, Albus?"
With Harry nestled in the crook of his left arm, he took out a long thin wand and aimed it carefully at the girl's face. There was a bright light and Violet gave an annoyed grunt.
"Shtop!" the child cried irritably as she tried to push Albus's hand away.
When the light faded, the cut on her face remained. Albus frowned at the injury. Violet returned his gaze, sulkily.
"How odd. Hagrid, what caused this injury?"
"Not sure sir. There was shattered glass everywhere, but I didn' see nothin' too unusual."
Albus continued to contemplate the cut on Violet's face as the girl clung to Minerva.
"What will become of them?" Minerva asked after a moment.
"They will stay here, with their aunt and uncle."
"Albus," Minerva interjected, clutching Violet to her, "do you really think this is the best place for the children? I've been watching this family all day! They are the worst sort of Muggles imaginable!"
"But they are Harry and Violet's only family."
"Any witch or wizard would be glad to take them."
"That's true, Professor," Hagrid interjected. "Harry's gonna be famous! I hate ter think of the kids wastin' away with these people!"
"I'll take them," Minerva said. "I'll take a sabbatical from teaching until they're older and then…"
"Fame is why he must stay here. They are both better off growing up away from all that."
"But Albus…"
"You must trust me on this, Minerva," he said calmly. The other two adults did trust the old man and all arguments stopped.
Under a tuft of Harry's black hair was a cut shaped like a lightning bolt. Minerva shifted Violet so she balanced on one hip and brushed his hair away from the cut, gently.
"Is that where he tried to…?"
"Yes," Albus said wisely. "He will likely carry that scar for his entire life."
"What about Violet's injury?" Minerva asked. "if you couldn't heal it with magic…"
"It may scar. It may not. It depends on what caused it."
Dumbledore placed Harry on the doorstep. Minerva's jaw dropped.
"Are you just going to leave them here? You're not even going to knock?!"
"They will be perfectly safe with…"
But Minerva had finally reached her limit.
"Perfectly safe on a doorstep?! Are you mad?! There are still Death Eaters at large, Albus! And that's not to mention the trouble and unsupervised infant and toddler can cause! What if they aren't found until after dawn and Violet wanders into the road?"
"Minerva, please…"
"You should at least knock and tell the Dursleys the kids are here!"
Albus considered his friend for a long moment. Her cheeks were flushed with anger and her lips had gone dangerously thin. Finally, the gave her a courteous bow.
"As you wish, Minerva. Ah, would you care to remain help me explain things to them?"
"I would."
Albus nodded and knocked. Hagrid eyed the door sadly.
"I don't reckon I can fit through the door. I best get Sirius his bike back. Could- Could I say good bye first?"
He bent down and gave Violet and Harry very scratchy, whiskery kisses. Violet giggled as his beard tickled her neck.
"Bye-bye Haggy," she said.
"Bye-bye Violet. I'll see yeh again. I promise."
Tears poured into the tangle of his beard. As Hagrid started the motorbike, Albus knocked again. Finally, after a third knock, the light came on in the upstairs window. A few minutes later, the door was ripped open and Uncle Vernon appeared, his face red with fury.
"Do you have any idea what time it…?"
He seemed to choke at he took in the sight of the two strangers on his front step.
"Vernon Dursley, I believe," Albus said. "I am looking for Petunia Dursley." The old wizard smiled as he spotted Petunia over Vernon's shoulder wearing a paisley housecoat. "Ah, Petunia. I am Albus Dumbledore. We have never properly met, but we have corresponded, I believe."
Vernon spun and looked at his wife in shock. She blushed under her husband's stare but nodded at Dumbledore. Her eyes fell on the children.
"Where is Lily?" she asked, stiffly.
"We have much to discuss. May we come in?"
At his wife's insistence, Vernon Dursley allowed the strangers inside. As he closed the door, he had no idea and around the country were people celebrating and toasting to his nephew, raising their glasses and saying, "To Harry Potter, the boy who lived."
