Marie Greengrass stepped out of the floo into the foyer of her home and brushed herself down as she stepped to one side, where her daughter emerged from the emerald flames not a moment after her. She stepped closer to the young girl and began to brush her down also, ignoring the exasperated pout on her pretty face.

"Did you have fun today, sweetie?" She asked once finished, hoping the girl had enjoyed the day spent together as much as she had.

The girl nodded firmly. "I loved it, Mum, now let's go so I can show Dad and Astoria my robes." She ordered playfully, striding past her mother.

Marie rolled her eyes at the girl but obediently followed along behind her, and soon the two had arrived in the living room where her husband sat in an armchair reading.

Upon their entry, the man stood to greet his wife and eldest with wide arms, pulling them both into a loving hug and kissing his daughter's forehead. "Hello, dears, did you have a good day?" He asked expectantly.

His daughter nodded into his chest before pulling her head back to look up at him with happy eyes. "It was great Dad, you won't believe how many books I convinced Mum to buy for me." She told him with an innocent grin.

The man released a deep sigh and raised his eyes to the heavens, though the crinkles around his eyes told anyone watching that he was anything but displeased. "Let me guess, another shelf will need to be added to your bookshelf?" He asked wryly.

The girl held her chin in mock contemplation. "Hmm...another two would be best."

The man sighed once more, before looking back down at his child with a fond smile. "Anything for you, princess." She nodded imperiously in response and he barked out a laugh before releasing her.

She stepped back from him and looked around the room. "Where's Tori?" She questioned her father.

"Who knows with that child." He said with a laugh. "Now why don't you go find her and then you can show your old dad what you've spent his hard-earned Galleons on?" He suggested with a smirk.

The girl smiled at her father before bounding from the room shouting for her sister.

Once gone, he kissed his wife fully and hugged her close. "Any trouble?" He whispered.

She sighed into his chest, shaking her head. "Just the usual looks, though we met McGonagall in Madam Malkin's. She was escorting a muggle-born boy but soon found an excuse to remove herself from our presence." She said acidly, remembering the look on the older woman's face when she had caught sight of her.

She walked over to the settee, leading her husband by their clasped hands. The two sat and Marie leaned her head into her husband's shoulder as he hugged her with one arm.

"It's been over a decade, Daniel, I'd have thought people would have come to their senses by now." She huffed out, frustrated. Daniel Greengrass just squeezed her shoulder in comfort, knowing she needed to vent.

"Oh, but the boy she brought with her, I think Daphne is in love." She told him playfully, enjoying the widening of his eyes at her statement.

"Really? Our Daphne?" He questioned, unbelieving.

"Yes, our Daphne, she even smiled at him!" She told him with a laugh, before leaning into him further, a gentle smile on her face. "It was so lovely to see her speaking to another child, even for only a few minutes. You know how she's struggled." She said with a sniffle as tears began to form.

"He must have been a muggle-born, he had no idea who we were even with that old bint McGonagall glaring at me. He told her he'd see her at Hogwarts, and seemed hopeful to see her again" She pondered aloud.

"But this is amazing, Marie! She'll finally have a friend." Daniel exclaimed, delighted, though his wife did not share in his joy as she shook her head at him.

"Not once McGonagall tells him who we are she won't," Marie pointed out knowingly. "She looked so happy, Dan...until she seemed to realise what would happen and then she was devastated. The boy poor looked so confused, he must have thought he'd done something wrong."

Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat, the old guilt clawing up from the pit of his stomach.

"It's my fault." He said softly, running a hand through his wiry blonde hair.

Marie sat up quickly and clutched his arm firmly. "No, it isn't, Daniel Greengrass! Stop blaming yourself for their actions," She said vehemently, before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "I don't blame you and neither would they, so you shouldn't either." She told him, stroking his face adoringly.

He gave her a watery smile and leaned into her touch. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

She smirked mirthfully at him. "You know very well what you did," She said as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing her husband to laugh loudly and she soon found herself joining him.

It was at this moment that the door to the room burst open to admit Astoria, walking backward and holding a large white sheet in the air before her, blocking their view of the doorway.

"You two! Stop being lovey-dovey and pay attention!" The nine-year-old ordered over her shoulder, looking as stern as possible until the couple extracted themselves from each other and leaned forward.

"Good, now, may I present to you both, the new, improved...Daphne Greengrass!" Astoria said with a flourish, dropping the sheet and diving to the side.

In the doorway stood Daphne in her Hogwarts robes, shaking her head with a look of fond exasperation on her face at her sister's antics.

Both Daniel and Marie gasped at the sight of her, jumping to their feet and rushing over.

"Oh, sweetie! Look at you!" Marie gushed, happiness radiating from her as she took in her daughter who rewarded her with a beaming smile of her own.

Daniel stared at her, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words to express what he was seeing before his very eyes.

His little girl was growing up.

That same evening found Harry Potter sitting in a private room of The Leaky Cauldron, polishing off a bowl of beef stew with a thick wedge of bread, stomach as full as he'd ever felt it.

He still wasn't used to full meals.

For her part, Minerva McGonagall sat opposite the boy, watching him struggle through the fare and getting her thought in order, deciding how best to tell him what he needed to know.

Once the boy had finished, stacking the bowls and cutlery together and pushing them to the side, he turned his full attention to her expectantly.

The witch met his eyes and gave him a small smile before folding her hands in her lap and settling into teaching mode.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I promised you I would tell you all I know but I would ask that you save any questions until I am finished. It...is not a pleasant tale, but I believe you are mature enough to handle it," She paused, giving the boy a nod. "Magic is a most wonderous thing, Mr. Potter. With it, you can do anything you put your mind to, as I am sure you have learned for yourself already. Unfortunately, that includes harming others." She said to the enraptured boy.

Harry sat transfixed as she told him all about the war that had started in 1975, how a group of witches and wizards calling themselves Death Eaters began to attack muggles and muggle-borns. She explained the differences between pureblood, half-blood and muggle-borns and the hatred and disgust many of the former group felt for the latter two, which Harry found absolutely ridiculous. Who cared what blood anyone had? He said so to the Professor, and she gave him an appreciative nod before explaining further.

"The Death Eaters were dangerous, cruel people, but their leader was the worst. He was...monstrous, Mr. Potter. Exceedingly powerful, intelligent and charismatic, many flocked to his side when he began his attacks, claiming that he was the leader Britain needed, who would free our world from the filth that had infested it." She told him with a disgusted look before continuing.

"That man was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who as some call him. He was brutal, killing hundreds upon hundreds of people all by himself and sending out his Death Eaters to cause mayhem and misery at will. Such was the fear the man provoked that many refused to stand against him, terrified that they would be killed in their homes because that is exactly what he did to many of those brave enough to take a stand against him. People like your parents." At this, Professor McGonagall paused, conjuring two glasses of water and filling them with a swish of her wand. Levitating one glass over to the quiet Harry, she took a long sip of her own as she steeled herself for the next part of her tale.

"Your parents...were extraordinary people, Harry. Talented, intelligent and brave beyond belief, enough so that You-Know-Who himself tried to recruit them to his cause. They refused him, however, and both fought against Him and his followers, and without them, many more would have died," She said with a proud smile. "They fought from the day they graduated Hogwarts until the day that you were born." She finished with a nod toward Harry.

Harry swallowed, overwhelmed. His parents both sounded like amazing people and had fought for years against a monster to protect people. He couldn't be any prouder that he was their son.

Taking a sip of his own water, he looked the Professor in the eyes as he asked "And then You-Know-Who killed them?"

Professor McGonagall swallowed harshly, fighting to keep her composure, and nodded in response to his question. "He did. He came for them on Halloween 1981 at their home, and there he...he killed them both," The tears began to fall as the woman grieved her two lost students. "They died as bravely as they lived, fighting against him, but in vain. He killed them, and then, he tried to kill you."

Harry felt his stomach drop, his mouth hanging wide open. "M-Me? He tried to kill me?" He stammered.

The Professor nodded again, eyes flickering to his forehead. "He tried to, Mr. Potter and he cast the killing curse at you. The curse that is unblockable, that no one has ever survived before...and yet you did." She stated, and Harry was stunned. Before he could question her any further, she elaborated. "You survived, Harry, and the curse rebounded and destroyed You-Know-Who, ending the war. That, Mr. Potter, is where the scar on your forehead comes from." She told him, and Harry lifted his hand to his forehead, rubbing the familiar lightning bolt on his skin.

To think that it had come from a madman trying to kill him when he was, what, one and a half years old?

The Professor's eyes glanced at his forehead again before she spoke further. "You, Mr. Potter, are famous. There is not a witch or wizard in the world who will not have heard your name, heard the tale of your survival when no other had ever survived that curse. You are known as The-Boy-Who-Lived" She told him gently, watching as his breathing began to get quicker and sharper.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Him, famous? He was nobody, little forgotten Harry Potter, that's all, not this "Boy-Who-Lived" nonsense. "I-I can't be! How can I be famous, Professor? Wouldn't people, I don't know, try to find me and seek me out? Even today no one bothered us!" He rambled, desperately trying to understand.

Professor McGonagall snorted at his words. "They know better than to bother you when you are with me, Mr. Potter. But yes, you are exceedingly famous. I would say that only a handful of other witches or wizards are as well known as you are," Harry's face scrunched in consternation, and she hastened to explain. "I tell you this not to panic you Mr. Potter, but to warn you. There will be many who will try to take advantage of you, or simply want to be near you, so I want you to be prepared."

Harry thought about what she said and decided that it was better for him to find out now from her than be blindsided the next time he stepped out in public. Taking another sip of water, he pondered everything he had heard tonight and tried to get his head around it all.

"So, my parents were killed, I survived, and then what? I was sent to the Dursleys?" He queried, wanting to understand.

At this, the witch's mouth set into a thin, firm line as she nodded, her distaste at the mention of the Dursleys evident. She told him of the end of the war, the chaos and confusion that were prevalent, and how they had to act quickly to find him somewhere to live before his safety was threatened as the Death Eaters were still active even if their master had been destroyed.

She told him how she had watched the Dursleys, and had protested against him being sent there, but Albus Dumbledore, his future Headmaster, had insisted.

"Why did he have a say? Am I related to him?" He asked, angry at the man who had sent him to people who hated him, starved him, abused him.

Professor McGonagall stared at the boy, understanding his anger, feeling no small amount herself towards her old friend and boss. A thought struck her then, and with a wicked smile, she pulled her wand.

"An apt question, Mr. Potter, and one I think you should hear from the man himself. If you will wait one moment." With that, an ethereal tabby cat materialised from the tip of her wand and turned towards its summoner. McGonagall and the apparition stared at each other for a long moment before the cat bounded away and through the wall.

Giving it a satisfied nod, the woman turned back to the confused boy, smiling slightly at the expression of befuddlement on his face.

"He should arrive soon, Mr. Potter," 'If he knows what's good for him' She thought viciously to herself. "In the meantime, I will tell you some stories of your parent's time in school, is that acceptable?"

She needn't have asked, as the boy's head bobbed up and down rapidly in agreement as soon as the words left her mouth, and with an easy smile of remembrance, the witch leaned back in her chair and began to tell a tale.

"Well, your parents were both in Gryffindor house together, and let us say they did not get along swimmingly at first..."

Daphne Greengrass fought down a giggle as her father dramatically bemoaned having to once again expand her bookcase to fit in her newest purchases. Really, it was his own fault for encouraging her to have an active mind, and she told him as such.

Shaking his head, he muttered loud enough for her to hear, "Yes, and don't I regret it."

Daphne just smiled pityingly at him. "That's just because you're worried I'll be in Ravenclaw like Mum."

"Never. You're too much like me, you'll be in Slytherin." He declared confidently.

Daphne simply hummed noncomittally and continued hanging up her new robes in her wardrobe. When she had finished, she climbed into bed and watched as her father unshrank her new books and, with a wave of his wand, placed them all on her new bookshelf. She couldn't wait to read them all.

Nodding in satisfaction at his work, Daniel walked over and sat at the end of her bed with a yawn.

"It's a good job our family is as old and rich as we are, otherwise you'd have us all on the streets with your constant requirements for new books." He said affectionately.

"Knowledge is Power, Dad, you know that." She told him seriously, though her eyes danced with amusement.

"It certainly is, Princess, but don't think I didn't notice that nice new romance novel tucked in there." He retorted, smirking at her. "I knew there was a romantic heart in there." He joked, and she scowled at him.

Laughing to himself, he continued. "And what's this I hear about the nice young gentleman you met today? Your mother was certain that he'd taken your fancy." He watched the blush creep up her face at his words and again was reminded that his little girl was growing into a young woman - if she wasn't already.

Daphne shrugged a shoulder, averting her eyes. "He was nice, I guess." She told him, embarrassed.

Daniel smiled encouragingly at her. "Just nice?" He prompted.

"Yes, he was...nice. It was a pleasant enough conversation." She reported, trying to hide her thoughts from her father.

"And you'll see him again at Hogwarts, Princess," Daniel told her, carefully watching her reaction.

Daphne sighed and shook her head slightly. "Probably not, you know what they're like, Dad. Maybe if things had been different, but the woman he was with definitely knew who Mum was and she'll probably tell him and that will be that." She said, unable to keep the despondency from her voice.

Daniel smiled sadly at his daughter, rising to give her a hug and a kiss on her forehead. "It will be better once you get to school Daph, you'll see." He ruffled her hair and chuckled as she batted his hands away with her own.

Walking over and opening the door, he opened it and smiled at her, waving his wand and dimming the lights in her bedroom. "Goodnight, Princess. I love you"

"Love you too, Dad. Goodnight" She returned, and with that, the door closed and she was alone.

For almost an hour, Daphne tossed and turned, trying and failing to fall asleep, but finding herself completely unable to. After the conversation with her Dad, she couldn't get thoughts of the green-eyed, black-haired boy in the robes shop out of her head.

She had told her Dad the truth, he was a nice boy, and polite. He had persevered in his attempts to have a conversation with her, as awkward as they had been, and she found he was quite pleasant to converse with during the short time they had had.

'And he's cute too, he made your heart race as soon as you saw him' The recesses of her brain supplied unbidden, and she squashed the thought quickly with an angry shake of her head.

There was no point thinking like that. As soon as that boy was told about the war and her parents' part in it, true or otherwise, he wouldn't be seen dead speaking to her again.

And so what if he didn't? She'd never had a friend before now, if you discounted Astoria (and Daphne believed that little sisters didn't really count), and she was just fine with it.

'Liar. The fluttering in your stomach said otherwise"

So? What else was she supposed to do, cry? She'd done enough of that. She wasn't going to Hogwarts to make friends, as unlikely as that possibility even was, she was going to learn magic and become the best witch she could be.

She didn't need anyone else, especially nice, polite, and somewhat enjoyable to look at boys who would one day hate her just like all the rest.

'Those eyes really were gorgeous, weren't they?'

Stupid traitorous thoughts.

"-and then she charmed the bouquet to follow him around for the rest of the day, singing "No" over and over to him."

Harry laughed uproariously at the tale of his Dad's attempts to woo his Mum. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he smiled gratefully at the smiling witch opposite him.

When he'd awoken this morning, he hadn't even known his parents' names, and now, for the first time, they were real people to him, not just faceless entities who had left him orphaned and alone at the tender mercies of the Dursleys.

His Dad, James, had been as brilliant as he was unruly. He had been one of the most talented wizards of his generation, especially good at Transfiguration as McGonagall had told him with a fond smile, and an incredibly brave and loyal man.

His Mum, Lily, was a genius according to McGonagall, but still worked harder than anyone to maximise her potential, and if anything she was even more talented than his father, though Charms and Potions had been her forte. She was kind, and popular, with a fiery temper but was loved by practically everyone who met her.

And they had both loved him. Had both died trying to protect him.

For the first time, Harry's grief for his parents was for the people he knew had once been and not simply for their absence from his life.

Before the Professor could begin another story, a knock sounded on the door, and a man in bright purple robes stepped into the room.

The man was very old, with long white hair and a beard to match, long enough that it was tucked into the purple belt that accompanied his...vibrant...clothing. He wore half-moon glasses on a crooked nose and had bright blue eyes that danced with intelligence. He had a genial smile on his face as he walked into the room, hands in his sleeves.

This must be Albus Dumbledore.

Harry rose at the man's entry, but a wrinkled hand with long, bony fingers emerged from a sleeve to wave him back down.

"Please, don't get up on my account. You must be Harry." The man said with a smile at the boy in question, who merely nodded at his statement.

Dumbledore made his way over to the table, taking a seat next to his colleague. "Minerva," He said to the woman beside him, "I trust the day has been enjoyable for you both?" He asked them.

"This has been the best day of my life, sir," Harry told the man, whose smile looked slightly pained at his words.

"I believe an explanation was promised, Harry?" The man asked, and after receiving a short nod, continued. "Then explain I shall as best as I can. You have been told by my esteemed Professor about the war, and how it came to an end?" Another nod. "Very good. Those were dark days, Harry, and though the threat of Lord Voldemort himself had been vanquished, his followers remained."

Harry jumped in then. "Lord Voldemort, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That is the name You-Know-Who called himself, though to this day many refuse to repeat it. As I was saying, his followers, the Death Eaters, remained behind and were still at large. I knew, once news of his defeat and your part in the events were to spread, that they would come for you in a bid for revenge or some foolish belief that your death would revive their fallen master."

Harry stared at the man as he spoke, looking for any signs that the man was lying, and when there were none he raised his chin inquisitively for him to continue.

"There were those of us who fought against Voldemort, and after his defeat, some were attacked by the Death Eaters, until they were all caught, trialed and imprisoned. Nevertheless, your safety was paramount, and as your father died as the last of his family, I looked to your mother's sister." McGonagall made a displeased noise in the back of her throat, causing Dumbledore to pause and glance at her. "With your safety in mind, I was able to use your blood and install enchantments around your Aunt's home that would protect you from any witch or wizard intending on causing you harm, as long as you lived with those who shared your blood and called that place home."

Harry sensed something missing in the man's words, but his attention was focused on the last part. "Any witch or wizard, sir?"

The aged man nodded back at him, and Harry laughed bitterly. "That makes sense, otherwise the second either my Aunt or Uncle left the house they'd never get back in."

Dumbledore's face was ashen at the boy's words. "Harry, could you please tell me what it was like for you there?" He asked gently.

And Harry did. He told the old man everything, how his Aunt and Uncle starved him, how his cousin beat him up whenever he could catch him, how he was blamed for anything that went wrong, how Vernon's sister Marge berated him and set her dogs on him when she visited, how the children at school ostracised him and the teachers did nothing.

He told him of the loneliness, despair and fear he felt every day and the belief that he would never find a place to belong.

Then, he told him of his powers. How he had discovered that he could do things that no one else could.

He told him how he had learned how to warm himself at night when he was freezing in his cupboard, how he had learned how to smuggle food so he wouldn't starve, how he had learned and perfected teleportation (or apparition as he now knew it to be) in case he ever needed to escape, how once his magic began to manifest, the treatment at school became even worse as the others sensed how different he truly was.

The boy told him everything and Albus Dumbledore listened with a heavy heart, the guilt churning inside of him.

The boy's life had been a life no boy should have to endure, and it was because of his own lack of care. He had never checked on the boy, had been confident in his belief that blood loves blood, that Petunia Dursley would love her nephew as much as her sister had.

He had been wrong.

And Harry Potter suffered for ten years because of it.

Harry sat in his chair, exhausted and emotionally wrought. "What happens now, sir?" He asked tiredly.

Dumbledore looked into the eyes of the boy, so like his mother's. "What do you want to happen, Harry?"

"I don't want to go back there. I never want to see any of them again." He said vehemently.

Dumbledore nodded, expecting it. "Then you never will. I will have to find somewhere else for you to live, somewhere safe-"

Harry interrupted him forcefully. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think you're very good at that."

McGonagall, sitting beside the Headmaster, stifled a snort of amusement with a cough. In any other circumstance, she would scold the boy for such disrespect, but right now she agreed wholeheartedly with him.

"Could I not just stay here for the summer? There are rooms, and I have the money, and I'll be here, in the wizarding world, where I belong." Harry suggested, liking the idea as he thought more about it.

Dumbledore stroked his long beard in thought. "Would it not be better for you to live with a family, Harry? There are many who would be happy to take you in." He suggested to the boy.

Harry shook his head. "No one I'd feel safe with, sir. I don't know anyone. And how many would be happy to take me in for me, and not because of that 'Boy-Who-Lived' stuff." Harry argued back, not liking the idea of going anywhere suggested by Dumbledore one bit.

Dumbledore peered at the boy over his glasses and saw the firm determination in his eyes. "Diagon Alley is a rather splendid place to spend time, and I'm sure a curious boy such as yourself would like to explore it further." Harry nodded, and Dumbledore smiled at him. "Very well Harry, you can stay here. But," He rose a hand, cutting off whatever the boy had been about to say. "when I say stay here, that is what I mean. Here, in Diagon Alley. Please do not wander off into muggle London, stay here where the shopkeepers can keep an eye on you."

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly at the man but acquiesced with a short nod. At least he'd get to stay here as he had wanted, and he didn't have very much desire to go back to the muggle world any time soon. It was more the principle of the matter really, being told what to do by the man who had sent him to the Dursleys.

It was a bit late to start caring about his well-being in his opinion.

Dumbledore rose to his feet with a wide smile. "Splendid. I will go and speak to Tom and arrange a room for you for the remainder of the summer, to be paid for by myself of course. It is the least I can do to make amends for the mistakes of the past" He said sadly

'You're damn right.' Harry thought sardonically.

Dumbledore bowed to him, and then to Professor McGonagall, before turning and walking purposefully to the door. "Harry, it has been a pleasure to meet you. Minerva, I will see you back at Hogwarts."

Before the man could leave, Harry sat forward suddenly.

"Before you go, sir, I had a few questions." He spoke quickly.

Dumbledore waved his hand for him to continue.

"Earlier, you said that Voldemort's followers believed they could revive him. You never said that he was dead, just defeated," Harry said, making eye contact with the old man. "Can they? Did he survive that night?"

Dumbledore sighed, shoulders drooping. Slowly he nodded his head "I believe so, Harry. He is out there somewhere, weak and powerless, but not dead."

Harry nodded, thinking. "So he could come back?" Dumbledore nodded tightly. "Okay, thats...yeah." He said weakly, thoughts racing through his mind until he shook his head to clear them.

"Just one other thing, sir, his name. Voldemort, was that his real name?"

Dumbledore chuckled, impressed with the boy. "No, it was a moniker he came up with during his youth. His real name, the name he carried when he was a student, was Tom Riddle."

"Tom Riddle," Harry repeated quietly to himself, committing the name to memory.

Dumbledore glanced at the young man as he sat in thought, offered Minerva another nod and departed the room, robes swishing behind him as the door closed.

"So that was Albus Dumbledore," Harry said, unimpressed.

McGonagall too rose to her feet, smiling tightly. "He is a good man, Mr. Potter, though not without his shortcomings. He is truly sorry for the harm he has caused you, and he will do all he can to rectify it." She told him honestly.

Harry sighed. "I believe you Professor, but it'll take some time."

McGonagall nodded shortly at his words, vanished the glasses from the table, and gestured for him to lead the way from the room. Soon, the two found themselves in the empty bar room of the pub, where a bald man with very few teeth stood waiting.

"Professor McGonagall, a pleasure to see you again. And this must be young Harry," He beamed, offering his hand to the boy who shook it firmly. "My name is Tom, and I am the owner of this fine establishment. Your room is all ready for you, Mr. Potter, full board, and I have assured the Headmaster that I'll keep an eye on you."

Harry gave a small grateful smile to the man, before looking up at the witch beside him.

Professor McGonagall pulled out his shrunken trunk from her pocket, reverting it to its rightful state. "I must warn you that no magic with a wand is allowed when Hogwarts is not in session until you are seventeen and a legal adult, Mr. Potter. It is the law as decreed by the Ministry of Magic." She informed him with a small grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Harry did not miss the meaning of her words, starting to understand why the woman had been so fond of his father despite his behavior at school.

Reaching into her coat, the Professor pulled out a ticket from her inner pocket and handed it to Harry. "This is your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. On September 1 you must make your way to King's Cross Station to Platform 9 3/4, which you will find by passing through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. All you must do is pass through the wall and be on the train by 11 o'clock when it departs. Do not be late." She said sternly.

Tom piped up "Not to worry, Professor, I'll make sure he gets there on time myself." He promised cheerfully. "Let me get your trunk for you, Mr. Potter, it'll be room seven when you're finished here." Grabbing the handle, the man wheeled the trunk away with a short goodbye to the Professor and disappeared up the stairs.

Alone once more, the woman straightened her back. "You will behave whilst you are here," She stated with a no-nonsense tone, eyeing him as he adopted a perfectly innocent look. "Very good. I will see you on September 1 when you arrive at Hogwarts."

Harry just nodded, smiling gently. "I will. Professor...thank you. For everything."

Professor McGonagall smiled genuinely at the young man. "Enjoy yourself, Harry. If you have need of me, an owl will find me as it did before." She raised her hand to his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, before releasing him with a short nod and striding out of the back door to the alleyway they had first arrived in all those hours ago.

Though the woman was stern, and certainly not someone to be crossed, Harry thought she was just about the nicest person he'd ever met as he trudged up the stairs to find room seven.

It wasn't until he'd gotten into the comfortable bed, marveling at how much better it was than the small cot he had slept in every night before this, that he remembered the girl from the robes shop.

He'd completely forgotten to ask the Professor about her.

Well, he'd see her again at Hogwarts.

That night as he slept, he dreamt in flashes of bright green, the sound of a motorbike roaring and the ringing of high, cruel laughter.

When he awoke the next morning, all he could remember of his dream was the image that repeated itself most often.

A beautiful girl with long blonde hair and stunning blue eyes.

The summer passed in a blur for Harry, and he took great advantage of his freedom and explored all of the alley, though his favourite place to frequent was definitely Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

Mr. Fortescue was a lovely man, and refused to allow Harry to pay for anything, adding a new scoop to his bowl each time the boy tried to protest. He'd tried every flavour by now, though mint choc chip was still the best in his mind.

As the Professor had warned him, on his first day alone a man had spotted the scar on his forehead and loudly pointed him out, causing a rush of people to crowd around him and grab his hand to shake, but Mr. Fortescue had rushed from his shop and shooed the crowd away. Any time this happened after that, the ice cream parlour became his safe retreat from the attention, where the kind man would chat the day away with him, and Harry found him to be a fountain of knowledge on history, giving him a better understanding of the world he now lived in.

Whilst he was wandering the alley, he would sometimes get the feeling that he was being followed, and would turn around quickly to see a man or a woman behind him who would duck into the nearest shop or alley. This happened a few times over the weeks where he would catch someone close by that seemed to be watching him, but never the same person twice.

He'd read all of his schoolbooks, finding each subject fascinating in its own way, but found that the books regarding the more practical classes excited him the most, though he thought that potions might be interesting (it being one of his mother's talents didn't hurt). Once he'd finished those, he had spent more Galleons than he felt comfortable allowing Professor McGonagall to know about on new tomes. He'd tried the spells he'd found in the privacy of his room and found that his wandless magic was as good as ever, but most days he would find himself sitting on his bed for a few minutes holding his wand, basking in the rush of magic as he held it in his grasp.

On July 31, his eleventh birthday, he had awoken to find a wrapped package and letter sitting waiting for him on the desk beside his bed. After opening both, he had found a tin of Scottish shortbread and a note from Professor McGonagall wishing him a Happy Birthday.

Harry was determined to find out the Professor's birthday and repay her kindness.

Soon September 1 arrived, and as promised he was stood in the alleyway with Tom, who had applied a quick charm to the bar to stop any thieving hands from making off with his wares in his absence as he took Harry to King's Cross Station. With a loud crack, the two disappeared and arrived behind a large bush outside the station.

"Well, here we are Mr. Potter." The man said with a wave of his hand at the station before them. "Will you be able to find your own way from here?" He asked, desperate to get back to his pub before anyone undid his charms.

Harry nodded at the man. "I'll be fine from here, Tom, there's still half an hour before the train departs. Thank you so much for this summer and for bringing me here." He held out his hand to the man, who shook it firmly and with a short chirpy goodbye disappeared with another crack.

Harry made his way into the station, his trunk shrunken in his pocket, and soon found his way to Platform 9. Looking past it, he could see Platform 10 a little down the way, and the wall between them. Remembering Professor McGonagall's instructions, he walked over to the wall between them.

Looking around to make sure nobody was watching, he pressed his hand against the wall only to encounter no resistance as his hand passed through the wall. Grinning, after another look around, Harry stepped through the wall and beyond.

As soon as he stepped through, Harry heard the blistering whistle of a bright scarlet steam train waiting on the tracks, "Hogwarts Express" written on the front. On the platform, families were gathered, seeing off their children and making their goodbyes.

Glancing up at the large clock on the wall, Harry saw that it was now 10:45 and that the train would be departing soon.

Walking up to the train, he breathed in deeply and stepped aboard.

Now to find somewhere to sit for the journey.

And maybe someone.

They had arrived half an hour early to the platform as Daphne had been adamant that she wanted to find a compartment to herself, so 10:30 found the Greengrass family standing on Platform 9 3/4 and sharing tearful goodbyes.

It hadn't been too bad to start with, when she had hugged her Dad she had been fine, but as she hugged her Mum, her composure began to slip and by the time she had her arms wrapped around Astoria, Daphne's chin was wobbling as she tried her hardest not to burst into tears.

She'd never been away from her family before, and the reality that she wouldn't see them again until Christmas was setting in.

Releasing her sister, she stared up at the faces of her parents, who both looked like they were fighting back tears themselves.

"Well, this is it." She said uncertainly, holding her arms around her middle.

Her parents smiled at her, though both were ignoring the glares and dirty looks being sent their way by the families around them. They only had eyes for their eldest daughter.

Marie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her smile watery. "Oh, we're being silly. You'll have lots of fun, and you can write to us every day, and it's not long until Christmas."

Daniel nodded in agreement, locking eyes with his daughter. "Go on Princess, go and make me proud...which means get yourself sorted into Slytherin." He said with a laugh, causing Marie to slap him lightly on the arm. "She knows I don't mean it, I'll be proud of her no matter where she goes as long as she's happy."

Daphne smiled sadly at her Dad before taking a step backward towards the train, steeling herself.

"I'd better get on and find somewhere to sit so-" She was interrupted by her entire family rushing forward and engulfing her in a hug.

Laughing, she tried unsuccessfully for five minutes before she could extract herself. and went to grab the handle of her trunk but her Dad beat her to it, lifting it up effortlessly and placing it on the train behind her before stepping back into place beside her Mum and Astoria.

Smiling as best she could, she stepped onto the train, turning back to wave at her family.

"I love you." She said, uncaring about who heard her.

Each of her family members returned her words, her mum through tears and sobs, and she gave them all a final glance before turning away, grabbing the handle of her trunk, and making her way further onto the train.

Quickly walking the length of the machine, she tried not to glance in each compartment she passed, though occasionally she caught a glimpse of people she recognised, and who unfortunately recognised her. She knew she would not be welcome in those compartments.

Making her way to the very end of the train, she found an empty compartment and made her way inside, sliding the door closed behind her.

And suddenly realised that she had no way of lifting up her heavy trunk to the baggage shelves above the seats.

Grabbing the handle with both hands, she tried to lift the trunk up but only succeeded in lifting it a few inches off the ground before dropping it back with a heavy thud. Maybe she shouldn't have brought so many extra books...

"Would you like some help with that?" A voice sounded behind her and she whipped around, never having heard the compartment door slide back open.

There he was. The boy from the robe shop.

'And your dreams' Oh lovely, the thoughts were back again.

"Hi." She said in a small voice which caused her to cringe internally. Really, "Hi" is all she could come up with?

The boy smiled slightly at her. "Hello again. So, trunk?" He prompted, quirking his head towards the offending item.

Nodding gratefully, she stepped back from the trunk as he pulled his own in and shut the door behind him. With ease, he reached down and picked up her trunk, placing it above one of the seats before doing the same with his own.

He took the seat he had claimed for his own, looking up at her as she stared down at him.

"H-how?" She stammered, confused. Her Dad would have struggled with that!

The boy shrugged one shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck. "Feather-light charm, I read about it and it seemed useful."

Okay, that made sense, Daphne decided, taking the seat opposite the boy.

The two looked at each other for a moment, before quickly looking away out of the window.

The silence was stifling, but it was soon broken by the whistle of the train, and within moments they slowly began to move.

Daphne stared out of the window, eyes raking along the quickly disappearing platform until she spotted her family, right where she had left them. They waved to her as she passed, and she placed the palm of her hand on the window in response, a sad smile plastered on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the boy across from her hadn't waved at anyone, and supposed his family must have already left.

And then they were gone, and the train began to pick up speed. The journey to Hogwarts had begun.

Turning her head from the window, she looked back to the boy opposite her to find him doing the same.

A short moment passed between them, and then,

"I'm-"

"I'm-"

They both stopped short as the other spoke at the same time. The boy blushed and looked down at the floor, clearly embarrassed, whilst Daphne focused intently on calming herself and not doing the same.

'That won't last long'

She smiled at him, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction that he was as bad at this as she was.

"I'm Daphne." She spoke, causing the boy to lift his head, his bright green eyes locking onto her blue.

"I'm Harry." He said with a lopsided smile, and Daphne once again had to fight to stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks.

She failed miserably.

'Told you'

There we go, they've officially met...or at least exchanged first names.

This was actually really hard to write for some reason, I struggled a lot with how to portray McGonagall telling Harry about the war and Voldemort because I found myself really wanting to get this done so Harry and Daphne could meet.

But I'm where I wanted to be now so the story can begin to take shape.

They'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon, so which house do you think they'll end up in? Will they be together, or will they be separated?

A new chapter will come soon, I'm on nights and bored as all hell which is why this chapter has come so quickly.

Let me know what you think and if you're enjoying it, which I hope you all are.