September 1st, 1991
Albus Dumbledore sat on his throne watching as Professor McGonagall lad the new first years into the Great Hall. Of course the beginning of the school year was always special, but even Albus couldn’t deny that the return of Harry Potter to the magical world made this year just that little bit extra special.
Albus had been surprised when there had been no problem with Harry’s acceptance. Surprised, but pleased even though it meant the effort he’d put into ensuring Professor McGonagall was unavailable was wasted. He had feared that Petunia might have held onto her childhood jealousy over her sister’s magic and tried to prevent Harry from coming to Hogwarts. But evidently the love that all family members shared for one another had won the day.
Albus knew some of his staff, particularly Minerva and Severus, liked the place the occasion wager on which house individual students would be sorted. Indeed he’d been forced to lay down the law and place strict limit such bets after the “great betting fiasco of 1977” had almost made the pages of the Daily Prophet!
Still he was sure there was little chance of Harry ending up anywhere but like Gryfindor like his parents before him. Just like how there’d been little doubt that Vincent Crabbe would have gone anywhere other than Slyverin, where the Hat had just sent him. Even if he might have done better in Hufflepuff…
“Harry Dursley”, called out Professor McGonagall.
Wait! WHAT? Albus’ idle thoughts came to an abrupt halt with all the grace and artistry of a hippogriff that had just flown into a stone wall as young boy who could only be the son of James Potter walked out of the group of first years.
November 1st, 1981
Petunia Dursley was greatly surprised in the early-ish hours of 1st November to discover someone had left a small child on her doorstep in a basket. I mean really, who does such a thing? Though it did seem a strange twist of fate for it to happen the same week that her husband, Vernon, had suggested that since having it seemed they couldn’t have their own children maybe they should consider adopting?
Petunia and Vernon read the accompanying letter as they waited for the police and an ambulance to arrive. It was all very confusing with its references to witches, wizards, a recently fought magical war against some ‘Dark Lord’ and above all the authors strange belief that Petunia had a sister!
Petunia could foresee a strange phone conversation with her parents in Sydney, Australia in the near future. Just how did you go about asking your parents if you have a sister they’d never mentioned before?
“You know Pet” began Vernon a little hesitantly. “This little tyke’s going to be needing at least a temporary home if not an actual forever home, since I doubt the information in that letter is going to help the police find his family. Why don’t we offer to take him?”
And so began the newest chapter of little Harry’s life, first being fostered by the Dursleys and later on after Surrey Police had exhausted every angle of their investigation, being adopted by them.
The police had found only one Lily who’d died in the entirety of October. She’d been 95 and living in a care home in the Shetland Islands. Once the staff had managed to stop laughing they’d been entirely willing to confirm that she hadn’t been pregnant at any time in the last five years. Equally they’d found several married couples answering to the names James & Lily, but they’d (a) all been alive and (b) not missing any children, whether named Harry or not. Their efforts at tracing other couples with their names Vernon & Petunia Dursley had also not born fruit, none of the other couples had known of a Lily who was married to a James. Finally they’d not managed to locate any headmaster, or former headmaster because they’d tried to be thorough, called Albus Dumbledore or any reasonable variation thereof.
Meanwhile up in Scotland, at a school the Surrey Police would never have been able to find, the adoption caused a small but ultimately quite significant change in the records relating to one future pupil…
The years marched on. Harry Jonathon Philip Dursley (the blanket he’d been wrapped had HJP embroidered in the corner, and the Dursleys had felt it appropriate to keep some reference to his otherwise unknown past) grew up a loved and cared for only child with as a result only the mildest and most occasional bouts of accidental magic.
The Dursleys, mindful of the strange letter that had arrived with Harry, made a note of the occasion strange occurrences around Harry and wondered…
His scar proved impossible to diagnose, and totally resistant to antibiotics but eventually succumbed to repeated attacks with syringes attached to vacuum pumps and eventually faded to a small pale scar that could be easily covered with makeup by the time Harry was 7.
July 31st, 1991.
Of course eventually the day arrived when an owl swooped into the Dursley’s kitchen through an open window bearing a letter addressed to a Harry Dursley inviting him to Hogwarts. Not that the Dursleys had any reason to expect such a thing of course. Fortunately Vernon’s swift reactions closed the window before the owl to leave, thus enabling a reply to the effect of “What manner of craziness is this?” to be sent.
The adult Dursleys having long ago decided that if there was any future contact from these “wizards” it would be best to play dumb and see what extra information they might be given as a result!
Professor Dumbledore was of course too important, and his time too valuable to perform a simple muggleborn induction. Professor McGonagall was away on a long overdue holiday, as was Professor Quirrel. Professor Binns was an obvious nonstarter. Hagrid & Professor Filtwick were walking violations of the Statute of Secrecy and no one thought Professor Snape was a good idea for this sort of thing. So that left Professors Babbling, Burbage, Sinestra, Sprout & Vector to argue about who should have the opportunity of responding.
Professor Vector won, or perhaps that should be lost, that particular discussion and hence found herself walking up the driveway of 4 Privet Drive.
She could be forgiven for not connecting the name Harry, and a birthday clearly near the end of July with Harry Potter since all the world knew *he* was being raised at a secure location by magical tutors. Albus had said so, on many an occasion. 4 Privet Drive by comparison was a nice enough muggle home she supposed, but quite lacking in magical defences. Plus the young boy who answered the door had no large visible scar on his forehead, nor did he wear glasses, both of which were known to be true of Mr Potter.
Overall Professor Vector was entirely pleased with how the trip had gone. The Dursleys had been polite, accommodating and intelligent. Indeed some of their questions had been rather insightful for muggles, and the limited information that Mr Dursley had given her about what was apparently a muggle version of arithmancy called “game theory” had quite wet her appetite! Alas he was an historian, and this unable to give her more than a very brief overview.
The trip to Diagon Alley had gone well, though strangely Ollivander had briefly looked like he was expecting someone else. Still the man was strange at the best of times, who knew why he did or said the things he did? Professor Vector had certainly never found any arithmantic reasoning for all that measuring Ollivander did of new customers.
Hogwarts Express
Harry surveyed the Hogwarts Express. How bizarre that with magic offering the possibility of instantaneous transport to Hogwarts they instead had a steam train! Presumably it didn’t actually run on the real world railway tracks up to Scotland, as that would require making an awful lot of people both allow for its existence, whilst simultaneously not remembering that very same existence! Clearly witches & wizards were more than a bit strange!
He shrugged. Either way there no getting away from the need to actually board the train, and at least by arriving in good time he’d ensured that it was easy to find a good seat. He’d even managed to meet someone in much the same circumstances as him, a young witch by the name of Hermione Granger. She clearly had a tendency to talk incredibly rapidly when she was nervous, but he recognised a kindred spirit who valued learning so was pleased when she accepted his idea of sharing a compartment.
They were halfway to Scotland, and in the middle of a discussion as to whether there was a best house at Hogwarts, and if so which was it when the door to their compartment slid open. A blonde boy with a pair of companions stood there, looking at them with a slight sneer on their face as he took in their muggle clothing.
“Harry Potter should be on this train, I’ve looked everywhere else so you must be him.” He said, looking directly at Harry. “Though why you’re wearing those muggle clothes I really don’t know.”
“Sorry,” replied Harry. “I can honestly say that I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”
There was a moment of silence, before the blonde sneered at the pair of them even more and stalked off, taking his silent companions with him.
The conversation between Harry and Hermione had barely restarted when their compartment door was opened again, this time by a pair of older red haired twins.
“Let me guess” sighed Harry. “You’re looking for Harry Potter?”
“Well …”
“… yes!” they replied.
“Sorry, never heard of him before today” apologised Harry.
Back at the sorting…
Dumbledore surged to his feet as Professor McGonagall switched from staring with wide eyes at Harry to glaring at Dumbledore.
“Harry my boy, your surname is Potter. Please return to those waiting so that we may continue the sorting” he said desperately.
“I’m sorry Headmaster, but Harry Dursley is my name and has been since my parents adopted me when I was 4 years old. Before today I’d never even heard the name Harry Potter” replied the young boy calmly before turning to Professor McGonagall. “Professor, perhaps you could check ahead and see if a Harry Potter is actually listed for sorting tonight?”
Professor McGonagall checked the next page of her list, blanching slightly, “No, there is no Harry Potter listed!”
Gasps echoed through the Great Hall from many of the students, and a few of the staff.
Harry turned back to the headmaster. “It would seem there is no Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts this year Headmaster, however there is a Harry Dursley here who is here now and expecting to be sorted.”
“But surely your Aunt told you about her sister Lily, and Magical Britain?” Asked Dumbledore.
“How could she do that Headmaster, when the only information my parents was the short note that found with me after I was abandoned on their doorstep one night in November? Her parents didn’t know anything about a supposed sister either.”
“Harry my dear boy, Mr and Mrs Evans died before you were even born.” Said Dumbledore sadly.
“That may be so Headmaster” replied Harry. “But my adoptive mother’s maiden name was Brent, and her parents are alive and well, and live near Sydney Australia!”
Dumbledore collapsed back onto his throne, refusing to look at Professor McGonagall and waving vaguely for the sorting to continue.
“Better be … Ravenclaw!” Shouted the sorting hat after only a few moments.
Dumbledore reached blindly for his goblet. How had this come about, and how was he going to fix this now? A Gryffindor Harry was what his planning called for. Harry being sorted into Slyverin, or even Hufflepuff, well that he could have worked with but how do you mould a hero out of a Ravenclaw?