Time and Sacrifice: Book 1

Represents writings that are supposed to be read as if they were taken directly from the book.

Represents my own witings within the books.

Flashbacks.

Silent communication.

……………………

The Dursleys of Privet Drive, number four, were delighted to announce that they were perfectly normal.

"I don't think they're normal at all." Liliya said with a scowl to the Dursley parents.

"No one who would claim to be normal would treat nor talk to anyone, especially their own family, their own nephew, the way they have since they arrived." The hazel green eyes narrowed, showing nothing but disgust and disdain in them as she stared at the two Muggle adults.

No one but Astoria saw the slight shake of her younger friend as she balled part of a blanket in her tightly clenched fists. Liliya was still shaken, still disturbed by the events that had taken place last night. It was not only the attack of the Inferi that had left the girl so disturbed and distressed, but the verbal assault of the Muggle woman.

Liliya, as she had learned, had been fortunate in comparison to most of her Housemates. She was blessed with loving parents who would always shower her with open affection and would never even consider harming her in any way. The same could not be said for many of her fellow Slytherins. It confused her in her first year when the Yule holidays were coming up. As the day approached when they would board the train, returning to their families for the holidays, many of her friends and the older years would become increasingly agitated, withdrawing further into themselves. There was an ever-present fear that lurked in the depths of their eyes.

One day, late in December of her first year, she asked Terence to play a game of chess. The older boy, usually so quick and happy to cede to any request made by his younger Housemates, had snapped at her so viciously, so out of character for him, that Liliya had felt her eyes instantly burn with tears. Immediately, upon realizing what he had just done, he paled, eyes swimming with guilt, and reached out a hand to Liliya. Not wanting anyone to see her tears, Liliya had run out of the Common Room and found an empty classroom within the bowls of the dungeons. Not long after, Adrian found her, sat down, and pulled her to his side. That's when Adrian explained to her why and how most of them end up in Slytherin.

When he was done, he walked with her back to their Common Room. There, she sat in front of one of the many fireplaces, staring into the flames as Adrian's words echoed in her mind. She didn't know how long she sat there, staring, thinking, when she felt someone sitting next to her. She looked to her right, and was greeted by Terence's eyes swimming with guilt and apology, and he gave her a small miserable smile. Liliya couldn't help but fall into his side and snuggle close, letting him know that she understood. The older boy wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

Liliya decided that she wouldn't bring attention to the way his shoulders shook slightly, or the way his breathing hitched every now and then.

The 'normal' that the Dursleys spoke of themselves with reminded Liliya of the 'normal' that is the reality of most Slytherins.

How it was 'normal' to dread returning home, 'normal' to fear one's own family.

"They seem more monstrous than anything else." Liliya watched as the ugly blonde woman opened her mouth to say something, bracing herself, yet ready for whatever venom would come her way.

Harry had stood up for her, she would return the favor.

"I'd advise you not to say anything that we would take offense to, Mrs. Dursley." Terence said, cutting the woman off before she could even utter a word.

"Unlike your nephew, who I must say has outstanding restraint, when one of ours is attacked we hold nothing back when defending them." There was a dark gleam in Theo's eyes as he stared at the Muggle woman who had turned deathly white. Many in the Great Hall shivered at the threat in his voice, remembering the reaction to his own father's death.

As a matter of fact, they were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything mysterious or strange, as they had no tolerance for such absurdities.

 "Hmm, strange and mysterious. That seems to be the perfect description of you, Harry." Blaise said from across the Hall. There was a smirk on his face but his eyes were lit with a teasing playfulness.

As many within the Hall turned to look at the Italian boy, outraged at the perceived insult to Harry, Blaise's previously relaxed state became tense.

Before anyone could say anything to the Slytherin boy, Harry gave his own smirk, looking more Black than ever before.

"Oh, you have no idea, Blaise. No idea at all." Half the Hall's occupants jaws dropped at the mischievous playfulness in the Gryffindor's voice as his eyes sparkled with mirth.

They all witnessed Harry's defense of the Slytherins last night, but that was under extenuating circumstances. The continued civility, what appears to be blossoming friendships, was not anticipated.

None were aware of how much Harry Potter was about to not only shake up Hogwarts, and the impact it would have on the Magical Community.

The only ones who had any idea were those closest, and knew the green eyed boy best.

"The same can be said for you, considering strange and mysterious is a prerequisite for becoming a Slytherin." The good natured teasing relaxed many of the Slytherins, making them all smile slightly.

"Touché, Potter. Touché." Blaise said chuckling.

Grunnings made drills, and Mr. Dursley was the director of the company.

Around the Hall, there were many confused faces.

"What are drills?" Many asked, Mr. Weasley the loudest and most excited of them all.

Before the friends of those who had asked could answer, Hermione stood up and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps, it would be a wise idea if a list was made of all Muggle topics that could be explained during a break or at the end of the reading for the day. Unless, of course, it holds importance for the story. There will most likely be a lot of interruptions due to our reactions to the book's contents. A list would help limit that a bit." Professor Burbage nodded in agreement as Hermione spoke.

"I would be more than happy to be the one to take note. It makes sense considering it is what I teach." The professor said with a smile to the bushy haired Gryffindor.

He was a large, beefy man with virtually no neck, though he did possess an extremely large mustache.

As one, everyone in the Great Hall glanced at the man, giving him a once over, before their noses wrinkled in disgust.

In addition to being thin and blonde, Mrs. Dursley had nearly twice the amount of neck as usual, a valuable feature since she spent so much time looking over garden fences in order to spy on her neighbors.

Harry was extremely surprised at how well that summed up his aunt.

According to the Dursleys, there was no finer boy in the world than Dudley, their little boy.

 Dudley shifted uncomfortably, nervously, in his seat as many eyes looked at him.

In spite of having everything they could want, the Dursleys kept a secret, and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it.

"What? That they're a bunch of disgusting, disgraceful cu..." Astoria was cut off by her sister.

"Astoria! Don't you dare finish that sentence." Daphne scolded her younger sister.

Astoria pouted.

"We do not want to debase ourselves by lowering ourselves to their level. Even if it is true." Daphne sniffed, as she gave the Dursley parents a haunting look of superiority.

Astoria smiled.

Ginny gave the two girls an approving, appraising look. The two Slytherin girls caught the eye of the only Weasley girl and shark-like grins were shared between the three.

Harry and the Weasley boys shifted nervously, not believing that anything less than terrifying could bode from that possible friendship.

Even the Slytherins looked on cautiously.

The only person who seemed to look on with anything other than apprehension was Adrian Prucey. He looked at Ginny with keen eyes shining with fascination and a half smile.

Ginny, who noticed the look blushed bright right, but gave the other boy a smirk in return.

It was impossible for them to imagine how they would cope if anyone found out about the Potters.

Professor McGonagall bristled at the slight to two of her favorite students, whom she had considered as her own children. Even after all these years she still grieves for them, an open wound that will never truly heal. She still wonders how they would have changed the world, had their bright and brilliant lights not been snuffed out long before their time. It had been one of the greatest honors in her life to have known them, to have been a part of their lives. She watched as they grew from bright and mischievous children to fierce and passionate adults. Who had become proud and loving parents. The thing that gives her comfort is that she sees them both live on in their son. To know that these people, Petunia in particular, could not appreciate the sister who still loved her despite the years of separation and cruel words, made anger flare within her.

Amelia too felt irate and indignant at the thought that Lily and James were thought of as some dirty secret to be shoved in the back of a closet. Lily had been a dear friend to her that she had loved deeply. They had grown close when she had started to date Sirius and Lily had started to date James. They helped wrangle their other halves, as well as the remaining Marauders, and shared commiserating looks and smiles at the antics their boyfriends would get up to. Many nights they had spent together, talking, worrying about the future, about how they could possibly manage to get out of the war with their family intact. As for James, Amelia loved him for the fierce and loyal friend he was to her, but most importantly, for the friend he was to Sirius. There was no doubt in Amelia's mind that Sirius' friendship with James saved his life more than once.

The fact that both, along with Sirius, refused to allow Amelia to retreat into herself, to close herself off, forcing their way in and never leaving after the death of her family, helped her get through one of the most horrifying and terrible events in her life. Helped her get through each day as she was suddenly thrust into becoming the primary caretaker of her three-month-old niece. That was until they were forced to go into hiding.

Even then, even when Voldemort had personally set about to end their lives, and the life of their son, they still managed to bring light into the world. They still managed to bring more happiness into the life of one of the two most significant people in Amelia's life. By giving him a part of themselves, the most precious part, and making him a father that he never would have otherwise become.

As much as she knows Sirius loves her, there is no doubt that it was not her that kept him sane and alive in Azkaban. There is no doubt that the reason why Sirius sits here, a bit worse for wear but still whole, is because of his love, his connection to Harry. Even in death, Amelia believes the two continue to save those they love. Hearing how these people, their own family, couldn't bear the thought of them, wished to hide their existence, made Amelia grind her teeth as her nails dug crescent-shaped grooves into her palms.

Many who had known James and Lily, either those who had taught them, been friends with them, fought side by side defending each other, felt the flames of anger steadily stroked to life within them.

Although none were more affected than the last two true Marauders.

James and Lily had both been family, a light in an otherwise dark reality. The two were relentless in their love and loyalty. Accepted every part of Sirius and Remus, no matter how dark and ugly.

A seething rage started to burn in them, unable to stop the way they positioned themselves to strike at any further insults.

There had been no contact between Mrs. Dursley and her sister, Mrs. Potter for years; indeed, she pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as could be.

There were terrifying, hideous snarling sounds coming from Sirius and Remus. Sirius looked as if he was ready to transform into his Grim state and tear the two Dursleys to pieces with his teeth and bask in the bloodbath. Remus seemed more wolf than man, ready to let Moony take control as his eyes blazed with dark promises for the two.

The only thing keeping both in place was the death grip that Harry and Tonks had on them respectively.

"If anyone should have pretended they didn't have a sister, it should have been Lily. You never deserved her. If she could see you, if your parents could see you, they'd be disgusted. Lily was better than you could have ever dreamed of being." Professor Snape said as he stared at the hateful woman.

The entire Hall looked on in stunned bewilderment as the Potions Master defended the mother of his most hated student so arduously.

They did not know of his relationship, of his childhood friendship, with the redhead. The fierce yet kind heart she had. The way she had made him her friend, opened her arms and home to him. Had given him the first non-painful touch he received from someone other than his mother. The way she ignored his flinches and held him tighter in her arms, showing that she would never be one to cause him harm.

He still felt the deep agony of losing not just her, but her friendship.

Severus knew that he would face her wrath for his previous treatment of her child when the time came if he were that lucky.

Yet, there could be no doubt that how he had treated Harry couldn't be compared to how the horse-faced woman would have treated her sister's child.

To think she was better than Lily, Lily who would have raised her sister's child with an abundance of love had their roles been reversed, disgusted Severus.

Thinking of what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived on their street, the Dursleys shuddered. Despite knowing that the Potters had a small son, the Dursleys had never met him. It was another valid reason to keep the Potters away; they did not wish to have Dudley anywhere near such a child.

"Harry is a lovely boy. He is honorable, compassionate, kind, selfless, loyal, and has the biggest heart in the world. You were blessed to have him in your life, to be able to raise him. It's a shame you couldn't see the gift he was." Mrs. Weasley said passionately as she glowered at Harry's aunt and uncle.

Harry couldn't help the way his face burned at her words, or the way warmth spread through him. Fondness and affection for the woman bubbled up in him at hearing the sincerity of what she had said.

"I would like to know what they meant by 'a child like that'." Andromeda said, her gaze narrowed as the two people in question refused to meet her eyes, nor deigned to answer her.

"They mean a child with Magick." Harry whispered, his head bowed and eyes downcast, refusing to look anywhere but at his lap. It was said so softly but everyone heard it.

Many became apprehensive of what his demeanor meant for his time with his Muggle relatives, and what would be revealed about it.

On the dull, gray Tuesday when our story begins, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up to find the sky cloudy and no indication that strange and mysterious events were going to take place across the country.

Harry's face crumpled as he realized what day this must be.

There could only be one reason that the Dursley's would be mentioned, along with talking as if his parents were still alive, in a book that is about his life.

It was the day after the night Voldemort killed his parents.

He couldn't help the shuddering breath from escaping, nor the way his hands started shaking. This was the day he would most likely be placed with the Dursleys, after his parents were murdered. This was the day before Sirius, his father would be thrown into Azkaban.

This was the day that any chance of a happy childhood, of growing up with someone who loved him would be ruthlessly snatched away from him.

A slight tremor ran through Sirius for he too realized what day this was. Yet, he ignored it in favor of comforting his son. Whatever grief, whatever self-flagration he felt came second to his son. Nevertheless, Sirius couldn't stop the death grip he held onto Remus with, finding it grounding when his best friend held him just as tight.

The three of them had lost so much during this time that left an ever present gaping wound on their souls. Knowing they had each other was one of the few things that kept them going some days.

A hum was heard from Mr. Dursley while he tried to select his most boring tie possible for work, and Mrs. Dursley blathered on with her gossip as she wrestled Dudley into his high chair who shrieked loudly.

The mothers present all gave their children, even if they were already grown, a look that said what would have happened to them had they acted that way.

Even grown, their children still could not help but be affected by that look, fully aware of what had happened.

They did not notice a large, tawny owl flying past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

 "If any of my children behaved that way..." Mrs. Weasley tutted as her children winced and shifted in their seats uncomfortably as if in pain.

“Little tyke,” laughed Mr. Dursley as he left for work. After getting into the car, he backed out of the driveway of number four.

 "You should not encourage that type of behavior. You have to teach children discipline, have them learn what is and isn't acceptable. If not, then when they become older, their misbehavior will only get more egregious." Mrs. Weasley said aghast at the thought of any parent encouraging such behavior.

"Like you're one to talk." Petunia scoffed as she gave the Weasley matriarch a derisive sneering look.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" The redheaded mother narrowed her eyes at the blonde, red creeping up her cheeks as anger started to cloud her vision.

"Your children are no angels. Especially with those twin demons of yours. Their nasty, evil smiles as they tricked my son into eating those horrifying candies the summer before last." The sneer on Petunia's face twisted her features further, making her look all the uglier as she looked down her nose at Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny had stood up, mouth open, ready to defend her brothers. Loudly.

Mrs. Weasley gave her daughter a look that had her daughter instantly snapping her mouth shut and sitting back down.

"My sons may be jokesters, they may sometimes go too far in their pranks, but they are kind, honorable boys. They would never do anything to hurt someone maliciously. They make the world a better place, filling it with light and laughter when it is so hard to find. They would help anyone who needed it, and would give the shirts off their backs to do so. So, don't you dare say a thing about any of my children." Both Fred and George had stunned looks, eyes glistening with a sheen of tears as their mother stood up and defended them passionately.

Hearing their mother's words, her love, the fact that she said she was proud of them, healed something inside of them. They knew she loved them. There was never a question about that. She showed her love for them every day of their lives.

It was her pride in them that they always questioned. Never truly believed she had any as she constantly tried to deter them from following their dream of opening their own line of pranks, in favor of a Ministry job.

To hear that she was proud of them, that she wouldn't change a thing about them, they couldn't help the way their throats tightened and their eyes burned.

"Then don't you dare say a word against, and criticize my son." Petunia crossed her arms over her chest as she sniffed, turning her face away from the other mother.

"I did not criticize your son. I criticized your parenting skills, or rather, your lack of skills." Mrs. Weasley said with uncharacteristic haughtiness making many around the Hall gape in surprise.

Before Petunia had a chance to snap back at the other woman, Dumbledore quickly continued reading.

A cat reading a map was the first indication that something odd was happening.

Almost as one, everyone turned to look at Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at all of them but said nothing.

Despite the slight humor and the sparkle in her eyes at her students' reactions, those that knew her best could see the stiffness in her shoulders, and tightness around her eyes.

Minerva McGonagall remembers this day well. Remembers how she sat all those long hours, waiting with the slimmest possible chance that everything that she heard was wrong. Waiting to hear how fun loving and mischievous James, and fierce and vibrant Lily had managed to live while defeating Voldemort. That two of her dearest students had not left behind their child to be raised by anyone other than themselves.

With each passing hour, her hope faded, leaving her heart aching with what she had already known to be the truth but had not wanted it to be. Along with the choking grief was a rising fury at how she had seen the carelessness, the crassness of others celebrating.

Yes, Voldemort was defeated, but he had taken much with him.

How could they celebrate when the cost was so high?

He had taken James and Lily.

It had hurt.

It never stops.

It led her to Private Drive, to the only living family that little Harry had left.

For whom else was left?

Sirius and Peter were gone in the wind. One would soon suffer years imprisoned for crimes he had not committed, the other who betrayed his friends and faked his death. Remus was a werewolf and there was no way the Ministry would allow Harry to be placed with him.

Many of her dearest students, many of her children, had their lives ruined by treachery.

Whatever was said about her, no matter that she had to discipline them, the Marauders were hers. Minerva was proud of that fact. They were her Gryffindors, her Lions, her children. The four of them had managed to make the many years of war, the many years of darkness, bearable. They had brought fun, laughter and light into her and many others' lives. Yes, they sometimes crossed that line into cruelty, which she would have no problem giving out detentions for, but most of the time all they did was make others laugh in a time when laughter was so rare.

Sweet Lily, who was the daughter she always wanted. A vibrant girl with the brightest future. The way she opened herself up to the Magical World, learned everything she could and excelled in it all. Minerva was full of pride that Lily was put into her House no matter how many times Filius had tried to claim the Hart had missorted her. For regardless of how bright and intelligent Lily was, there was no denying that she was a Gryffindor. The way she would stand toe to toe with anyone who said she did not belong here, the way she would single-handedly bring the Marauders to task when they had crossed the line, the way she had fought against Voldemort and his followers showed that Lily was always meant to be in the House of the Brave.

Yes, Lily was hers too, and it made Minerva glow with unabashed pride.

Then, they were all taken from her.

Lily and James were dead.

Peter, supposedly dead.

Remus was adrift. Unable to care for the last remaining part of his pack because of the prejudice of their Ministry. Even though Remus would have loved Harry more fiercely, more completely than anyone other than the boy's true parents.

Sirius, oh Merlin, her boy. She shouldn't have favorites, but even among her favorites Sirius was her most loved. The pressure and expectations that were put on him, the way his family tried to force him to conform, the abuse he suffered for refusing, her strong boy never broke. Even when everything was taken from him, a boy who wanted nothing but love and family, he never allowed any of it to break him. Oh, how her heart ached when he'd slip and call her mum during his school years. The way he'd freeze when he realized what he had said, the way he would bow his head and brace himself as if ready to be hit. The way he would try to flinch from her when she would lift his chin, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

There are no words to describe the fury she felt at the Black family, at their refusal to see what a magnificent boy they had. If she could, if it would not have made her boy's life harder, if it would not have brought more pain into his life, a life she cherished so very much, she would have told each and every member of the family what she thought of them.

Instead of showing her fury and rage at the thought of those people who did not deserve this boy, she gently brushed the thick black curls from his face, before lovingly patting his cheek and telling him to hurry to his next class.

Wide grey eyes stared at her in shock before he took a shuddering breath and ran to the door. Before he left her classroom, he had looked back and given her a small heartfelt smile.

She may not have said it with words, but Sirius had undoubtably seen it in Minerva's eyes.

She loved the boy as if he was her own.

Hearing about how her Animagus form was seen so early in the book, and the fact it was by that disgusting brute of a Muggle, Minerva knew why she was there.

This was a day when she had already lost two of hers. Another would spend years alone and adrift, and another would face twelve years of hell.

Harry, another who she had grown to love deeply, one that had become hers just as much as his parents had, would be placed with those who had not known nor cared for the gift that had been given to them.

All because of the treachery of Peter Pettigrew.

The only thing that made listening to any of this bearable was seeing the three of them together. How after all they have been through, Remus, Sirius, and Harry still managed to find each other. They still managed to find family, to find love.

Minerva caught the eye of both Remus and Sirius. Both her boys had given her knowing, appreciative, and thankful looks. They knew the reason she was there was for Harry, was to scout out and observe the place and people they all knew Albus would take their boy.

Initially, Mr. Dursley had not realized what he had observed — suddenly he snapped his head back to take a closer look. A tabby cat stood at the corner of Privet Drive, but there was no map to be seen.

There were many snickers from around the Hall and Minerva couldn't help the twitch of a smile that appeared on her face.

Where did he get that idea? Obviously, the light was playing tricks on him. At the sight of the cat before him, Mr. Dursley blinked and stared. The cat gave him a look back.

The snickers increased, turning into laughter. Even the three who had been the most affected by the book had grins on their faces as they looked fondly at the Head of Gryffindor House.

How many times had they all been under that stare themselves? In both human and Animagus form.

"Definitely, Minnie." Minerva heard Lee say and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the nickname that all her resident Gryffindor pranksters and troublemakers had given her.

She was too fond of all of them and they knew it.

While driving around the corner and up the road, Mr. Dursley observed the cat in his rear-view mirror. Now, it was reading the Privet Drive sign — not reading the sign, but looking at it; cats are not able to read maps or signs.

Vernon Dursley was growing increasingly agitated at all the laughter and amused looks being thrown in his direction. He glared and sneered at them all, not understanding what was so funny about such odd behavior in a cat.

In lieu of the cat, Mr. Dursley gave himself a brief shake and put the matter to rest by no longer thinking about the creature. Driving toward town he thought about what he was hoping to acquire that day, a large order of drills.

Something else, however, drove drills from his mind on the outskirts of town. Amidst the morning traffic jam, he noticed that there were many people dressed oddly. Cloak-wearing individuals.

Many around the Great Hall frowned deeply as they looked down, scrutinizing their own cloaks, trying to figure out what could possibly be so strange.

It was impossible for Mr. Dursley to tolerate people who dressed in funny clothing — such as what is seen on young people! This appeared to be a new fashion trend that he thought was stupid.

"What's so funny about cloaks?" Lavender Brown asked the loudest of all those who were wondering the same, as she ran her hands down the front of her cloak.

"Cloaks haven't been worn by Muggles for a few centuries, like in the Middle Ages. Muggles usually wear jeans and t-shirts, or suits if they're going to work. Seeing so many people wearing cloaks would seem a bit out of place, but it wouldn't cause the kind of reaction we just read about. Especially since sometimes Muggles do hold fairs, and other types of gatherings that would call for them to dress as if they were in Medieval Times. When something like that happens, the people who are dressed up are more likely to be asked to have their pictures taken by Muggles impressed with their outfits." Hermione explained to those who were removed and didn't have much or any experience or knowledge of the Muggle World.

"So, in other words, Dursley is reacting excessively to something that he deems different and doesn't fit his worldview?" The question comes from Daphne Greengrass and everyone knows that it is rhetorical from the look of loathing that twists her features.

"Yes." Hermione still answers, as she glares at the enormous man who has made one of her best friend's, her brother's life a living hell all for the reason of having Magick.

"That doesn't bode well for the future." Ice blue eyes glare cuttingly at Vernon Dursley.

"No, it doesn't." With the weight of two young witches glaring so intensely and menacingly at him, Vernon feels a bead of sweat run down his spine.

Although it's perfectly clear what the two young girls are alluding to, and what it means to his son, Sirius can't help but throw a look at Andie.

"See, I told you. She's already terrifying."

Andie sees and laughs at him with her eyes.

While drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes were drawn to a group of these weirdos standing quite close to him. Together, they whispered excitedly. He was enraged to discover that a couple of them were far older than him; a man with an emerald-green cloak must have been older than him! The audacity!

Many couldn't help but roll their eyes at the man's continuous contempt for cloaks.

It occurred to Mr. Dursley that this was probably some foolish endeavor — these individuals must have been collecting for something...yes, that is what it was. In a few minutes, the traffic had passed and Mr. Dursley had arrived in the parking lot of Grunnings, his mind now returning to drills.

"One track mind that one has." Ernie MacMillan said loudly to those around him. Many snickered loudly, the loudest being Justin Finch-Fletchley, at the expense of Vernon Dursley.

Mr. Dursley's face turned an ugly purple in his rage as his eyes narrowed on Justin.

"What would you know? You're here in this freak school. You wouldn't know anything about the normal world." The Dursley man sneered at the Hufflepuff.

Justin stared drolly back.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. Accepted into Eton before I received my Hogwarts letter." Mr. Dursley looked as if he had been hit over the head with a frying pan.

"Hogwarts isn't a freak school. It's a school of Magick that I'm more proud to be going to than if I had attended Eton. You'll find that many love her, so I would advise you not to disrespect her so easily." Many Purebloods gave the Muggleborn impressed and approving looks. They did not know what Eton meant, but based on the Muggle man's reaction, it was a big deal. To hear the Hufflepuff defend Hogwarts, and his pride in attending her compared to something that seems to be prestigious in the Muggle World, made many look at the boy differently.

The ninth-floor office of Mr. Dursley was always set up with the window at his back. Otherwise, he may have had difficulty concentrating on drills that morning. In broad daylight, he did not observe the owls swooping past, though the people down in the street did; they gaped with open mouths as owl after owl flew overhead. In most cases, they had never seen an owl, which included at night.

"What's so strange about that?" Terry Boot asked the question on many others' minds.

"Owls are only, if ever, seen at night because they're nocturnal. Muggles don't use owls for post. We have mailmen, people who deliver our post for us." Colin Creevey explained to those with baffled and perplexed looks.

"That seems like it would be incredibly slow." Terry didn't look any less confused.

"It tends to be sometimes, yes." Colin said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Mr. Dursley, on the other hand, had an otherwise normal morning, free of owls. During this time, he yelled at five different individuals. In addition to making several important phone calls, he shouted a bit more.

"Much hasn't changed since then." A humorless smile was on Harry's face. Sirius couldn't help but bring his son more securely into his side, wanting to protect him from whatever past hurts his relatives inflicted upon him.

Harry fell easily into his father's embrace, accepting the comfort the man offered. The comfort that Harry had been denied for much of his life.

Fred held his hand tenderly, squeezing it slightly to remind Harry that he was there too, and Harry squeezed back, offering the older boy all his love and thanks.

Fingers gently carded through Harry's hair and he looked up to see the warm, protective golden eyes of Remus staring back at him.

The weight of Regulus, Hermione, and Ron pressing their backs into his legs from their spots on the beanbags was grounding; reminding him that he had a whole group of people who would always be by his side.

The entirety of the Great Hall heard Harry's words, watched the reactions of those closest to the boy. They all felt nervous anticipation of what they would be finding out about the Gryffindor's home life.

HIs good mood lasted until lunchtime, when he decided he'd give his legs a bit of a stretch

"Now, that's new." Harry popped his head up in surprise.

Both Dursley adults glared at Harry; their faces contorted into rage at the mockery the boy was trying to make of them as the whole Hall laughed.

Mr. Dursley opened his mouth, most likely to say something scathing to the boy, when his eyes caught those of Ginny Weasley.

They were daring, holding nothing but dark tidings, begging him to say anything that would release her wrath on them as she fingered her wand threateningly.

Mr. Dursley gave the girl a look that he meant to be scathing, but was more of a grimace.

Ginny couldn't keep a smirk off her face.

Adrian couldn't help but see why he had married the redhead.

As he walked across the street to the bakery, he bought a bun for himself.

 "Ah, that makes a lot more sense." The head full of dark, messy curls once more rested on his father's chest.

The laughter grew a bit louder as Vernon Dursley's face grew a more alarming shade of purple as he slightly seethed.

It wasn't until he passed a group of people in cloaks next to the baker that he became aware of the people in cloaks once more. As he passed them, he looked at them angrily. It was unclear why he felt uncomfortable around them, but he felt uncomfortable nonetheless. There were whispers of excitement in this group as well, but he was unable to see a single collecting tin. He caught a few words of what they were saying as he walked past them clutching a large doughnut in a bag.

It was the Potters, that's right, that was what I heard —"

 Any remaining laughter was quickly silenced as the dawning realization hit everyone as to what this day was. Had they not already been certain, they would have known by the deadened look in the green eyes of the only person who now carries that surname. Had they not known they would have figured it out in no time at all as the two closest friends of the long lost Potters had grown grief-stricken yet still managed to try to console the only surviving Potter.

Had they not already become aware, it would have been impossible to remain oblivious to the way those closest to Harry Potter managed to get even closer to him, becoming an impenetrable shield between him and the rest of the Great Hall.

No further commentary was made in respect of the two parents who had given their lives for their son.

"Indeed, the son of theirs, Harry —"

 A sharp whine pierced the air, filled with despair and terror. Sirius held his son tightly to him.

The thought of how close he had come to losing his son filled him with a fear so potent, so consuming that he would have become lost in a sea of it had he not had his boy in his arms.

Despite how much he missed James and Lily, and what he would do to bring them back, life continued on. Yet, had he lost Harry, life would cease for him, for what would it be worth without his son?

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

"I wish." The four youngest Weasley children said in unison as they glared darkly at the man in question. Their parents, along with their Head of House would have scolded them, for even though they greatly disliked the man, wishing death on anyone was a terrible thing. Instead, what had stopped them was that their voices were not the only ones heard but that of Hermione's as well. To say they were shocked and silenced by the vitriol the normally proper girl sent to the Dursleys was a vast understatement.

A feeling of fear overtook him. When he looked back at the whisperers, he felt as if he wanted to speak to them but decided against doing so.

 "The only smart thing you did so far in this book, Dursley." The sneer, full of contempt as he glared daggers at Vernon Dursley, was so out of place on George's face it took half his family by surprise.

"Only two outcomes could have happened had someone found out you were related to Harry. First, and this is if you were lucky, you would be mobbed by dozens, if not hundreds of witches and wizards wanting to know anything and everything you knew about Harry as they hailed him as a hero. The second," George's glare turned more intense, more deadly.

"The second, Voldemort's Death Eaters would have tried to find you and follow you to torture you and your family for the same information before they realized you both had no knowledge because of your vile and disgusting treatment of your own family, and that is when they would have killed you."

"Lucky for you, you kept quiet, and Harry's presence kept you safe. If I were you, I'd pay close attention to these readings and become aware of what your fate could have been, what the Death Eaters are capable of, and realize just how much Harry had saved you." Blue eyes pierced the Dursley parents, his words cutting even deeper, making the pair grow deathly pale at the images he conjured.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley said in wide eyed surprise, disbelieving of the cruelty and malice in her son's words.

"No, mum. I won't take it back because it's true. It's funny how of all the people we read about that died in the future, they were never mentioned. Why do you think that is? It's because I know Harry. I know that no matter how they treated him, he knew they would have been completely unable to defend themselves should the Death Eaters find them. He would have found a way to keep them safe and out of harm's reach. They have already received all the mercy and more than they deserve. I won't give them anymore." The ruthlessness within George tore apart any objections that his mother could have made as she stared dumbfounded at her usually fun-loving child.

Despite his eyes pinned on the Dursley adults, George did not miss the flinch of his littlest brother. At the sight, George immediately softened his entire demeanor as he looked into eyes of his brother in everything but blood.

"I'm not saying anything against you, baby brother. Having died defending something that means so much to me, to us, makes me proud. Every single one of us Weasley's would happily stand and die at your side. Nothing in the world would change that fact and we would never regret it either, so toss that thought out of your pretty little head." George says with the love and comfort only an older brother could ever show.

Dashing back across the road, hurrying up to his office, he yelled snappishly at his secretary not to disturb him, seizing his telephone once his office door was shut, nearly finished dialing his home number when he suddenly changed his mind. As he stroked his mustache and put down the receiver, he thought...no, he was being foolish.

"I feel like being stupid is his main personality trait. Terence whispered to Adrian who snorted a quiet laugh at his friend's words.

There was nothing unusual about the name Potter.

"Yes, it is. There's only one Potter family, not even minor branches of the Potter family exist anymore." Liliya said with a glare at the Muggle man.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the fierce girl as she stared down at his uncle.

"In the Muggle World there are many families whose name is Potter." He informed the small Slytherin girl kindly.

"Really?" Her large hazel green eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief.

"There are many names in the Muggle World that are common but rare in the Magical; Black, Abbott, Smith, Warrington, are some among them." Harry couldn't help the way his smile widened in playfulness as he watched her eyes grow larger at each name.

"Even the last name of Gardner is not uncommon." Liliya saw the playful teasing glint in Harry's eyes and decided to play along. She much preferred Harry smiling than looking sad as he had so far.

"You jest!" Liliya gasped dramatically, a hand to her heart in mocking scandal.

Harry's smile grew larger as he laughed openly at his display.

Liliya couldn't help the warm glow of pride that enveloped her knowing she was the one to make the Gryffindor smile and laugh.

That pride quickly turned to bashfulness as those closest and dearest to Harry gave her large, appreciative smiles. Although she had a deep blush on her face from their looks, she couldn't help but sit taller.

His belief was that there would be many Potters with sons named Harry. He was not even certain that his nephew was named Harry when he thought about it.

Apparently, this was too much for the Black sisters to handle as they each gave matching sneers to the man.

"You are truly a horrible man. Even though my sister and I had not seen, nor talked, had even supported different sides in the war, I still knew her son's name and gave him my Blessings." The contempt in Andromeda's face was pungent, as was her overwhelming disgust for the Muggle.

Narcissa was nodding along to her sister's words, until the end when she looked at her older sister in awe, tears immediately glistening in her eyes, making them look more like liquid silver.

"You gave Draco your Blessings?" Narcissa asked in a small voice, her chin trembling as if she were trying to hold back sobs.

"Of course, I did. No matter what, Cissa, you are first and foremost my sister. While I may have married Ted, I may have been disowned by the family, that fact never changed. Nor did my love for you." Andie said, gently wiping away a tear from the pale cheek of her younger sister as if they were mere girls again, stuck in a family that was crueler and madder than they could handle sometimes.

"I knew about...I knew the trouble...I knew how much you longed to be a mother and what Draco meant to you. I wanted to give you every Blessing I could. I wanted my baby sister happy." Narcissa nearly collapsed into her sister's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to Andromeda. None of the old grievances, just the love of the sister they have each missed over the many years.

Even Lucius couldn't help but be affected by the older Black sister, his hands shaking slightly as he blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

How many miscarriages had Cissa and he gone through? How many premature births were there where the child had not even had a chance to draw breath?

Lucius didn't need to ask, he carried each and every one of them with him.

It was why they gave Draco everything he wanted. He was their miracle child. The child that saved them more than words could ever convey.

Knowing that his son would go on to Sacrifice his life, watching as Potter had nearly sacrificed his own to save Draco, made his decision to not only follow, but to not resist his family's shifting loyalties, easier.

Despite his belief in Blood Purity, for that has not yet changed, nor does he believe it ever will, the life of his son and wife was more important than anything else in this world.

Hearing how Andromeda had given his son her blessings, irrespective of their relationship, a swell of gratitude welled up in him for the woman.

In fact, he had never even seen the boy before. There is a possibility that it was Harvey. It could also be Harold. It was pointless to worry Mrs. Dursley; she always became upset when her sister was mentioned. She deserved no blame — if he had a sister like hers...

Before anyone could come to Lily's defense, Harry let out a loud, derisive scoff as he gazed at his oversized uncle.

"Like you're the one to talk with a sister like Marge." The pure loathing and revulsion in Harry's voice left many shocked and unsettled. Never had any of them heard him ever sound so venomous.

"Watch your mouth, boy! Don't you dare say a word about my sister." Vernon Dursley snapped at Harry readying to continue on as he puffed up at the sheer audacity of the little freak for daring to say a word about his darling sister

The air was quickly knocked out of him by the look on Sirius' face.

The next time you talk to my son that way, Dursley, you won't have any teeth to speak with. I won't even need Magick to make that happen." The Black Heir hissed through his clenched teeth as fury caused his Magick to lash out, a sound like a whip readying to crack open the sky to rain hell down on the man, before he quickly managed to gain control of himself once more.

Nevertheless, those strange people in cloaks...

In the afternoon, he had difficulty concentrating on drills, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so concerned that he walked directly into someone just outside the door.

“Sorry,” he grunted,

Harry couldn't help the way his eyebrows rose in surprise. He had no idea his uncle even knew that word.

In the midst of his stumble, the tiny old man nearly fell to the ground.

Mr. Dursley took a few seconds to realize that the man he had nearly knocked over was wearing a violet cloak. The fact that he came close to being knocked over did not seem to upset him in the least. In contrast, he smiled widely, he said in a squeaky voice that caught the attention of people passing by, "Don't worry, sir, since there is no cause for concern today. Rejoice, for You-Know-Who is no more! It is a happy, happy day for all including Muggles like you!”

No one was celebrating in the Great Hall. The pain and agony that radiated from Harry, Sirius and Remus pervaded every corner of the room. Its potency was so suffocating that everyone nearly choked on it.

It was then that the old man embraced Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked away.

"I'm surprised anyone would be able to get their arms around the man." Dennis Creevey whispered softly to his older brother, aware that everyone was trying to remain silent in respect to the mentioned loss and tragedy their fellow schoolmate had suffered, yet unable to fully keep his astonishment to himself.

Colin gave his brother a small huff of laughter.

It was impossible to move Mr. Dursley from his position. An unknown individual had hugged him. Moreover, he believed that he had been referred to as a Muggle, whatever that term may mean. His nerves were frayed. Hurrying to his car he drove away, he hoped he was imagining things, which he had never thought of before, since he did not approve of imagination.

"Why doesn't that surprise us?" Fred and George said in unison as they rolled their eyes.

"Harry, my love, however, did you survive?" Fred asked dramatically as he pretended to faint into Harry's lap, one hand over his heart and the other placed theatrically over his forehead.

His face was flushed a bright red as he stared down into teasing, adoring, sparkling, azure blue eyes.

Wanting a bit of payback for turning him into a blushing mess, Harry looked straight into those eyes he loved so much.

Fred's breath hitched at the look and he couldn't stop the impulse to lick his lips.

"I'm not sure, but I have you to make up for those years without." Harry said and Fred bolted upright, barely a hairsbreadth between them. Fred's eyes darkened as they stared at Harry's lips.

Before either could close the distance, a hand suddenly appeared, separating the two.

Both boys looked in the direction of where the hand came and saw Sirius' slightly amused, yet unimpressed face.

"I may approve of the two of you together, but I don't want to witness anything." The amusement in Sirius increased as he watched as his son's already red face turned even redder as he stammered, realizing he had forgotten that he had an audience.

Fred was unrepentant in his open affection for Sirius' son. Maybe Sirius should have been upset about that, about his son's boyfriend showing absolute no fear in front of him, the Heir to the Black family.

All Sirius felt was happiness that his son had found someone who loved him so ardently and unabashedly.

Upon pulling into the driveway of number four, he was surprised to see — and it didn't improve his mood - the tabby cat he had spotted earlier in the day. Now, it sat on the wall of his garden. Having the same markings around its eyes, he was certain that it was the same animal.

“Shoo!” Mr. Dursley exclaimed loudly.

Snickers rang out as everyone knew that wouldn't work.

The Dursley adults were getting annoyed at not understanding what was so funny about the cat.

There was no movement from the cat. A stern look was all he received.

Many in the Great Hall winced at that. None more than the two remaining Marauders, the trio, the Weasley twins, and Lee Jordan.

They, more than anyone were more than familiar with that look, having been on the receiving end of it more times than they could count.

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but smirk at those specific individuals.

Could this be considered normal behavior for a cat? Mr. Dursley pondered.

"Definitely not." George said.

Normal Minnie behavior," Fred continued.

"Absolutely." Fred, George, Lee, Remus, Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished in unison.

The professor in question attempted to give them all a scolding look, but the twitch of her lip took any real admonishment out of it.

The Dursleys, especially Vernon, annoyance at the reactions of the amusement at the oddly acting cat was rising at each mention.

In an effort to regain his composure, he stepped inside the residence. It was still his intention not to mention anything to his wife.

The day had been a pleasant one for Mrs. Dursley. In the course of dinner, she shared all the details regarding Mrs. Next Door's struggles with her daughter, as well as Dudley's new word ("Won't").

The mothers around the Hall tsked at the behavior.

Petunia ignored them all.

Mr. Dursley attempted to maintain a normal manner of conduct. As soon as Dudley had been put to bed, Mr. Dursley entered the living room to watch the final report on the evening news:

 Finally, bird-watchers all over the country have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving in an unusual manner today. It is common for owls to hunt at night, and they are seldom seen during the day, but hundreds of sightings have been recorded since sunrise of these birds flying in all directions. "Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns," Said the newscaster with a grin on his face.

Those who had worked in the Ministry at the time rubbed their temples as they remembered the chaos and mess that were caused all stemming from the celebrations.

Tonks looked at her father suspiciously, an eyebrow raised in question. The look left no doubt of her bloodline despite the pink hair and combat boots.

Ted ignored the look from his daughter.

"Intriguing. Next, we will hear from Jim McGuffin about the weather. Are there any more showers of owls expected tonight, Jim?”

"Well, Ted," said the meteorologist,

"I knew it, it was you!" Tonks shouted out in victory as she clapped her hands excitedly and laughed brightly.

Remus looked as if he had fallen in love with the Metamorphmagus all over again.

“I'm not too sure about that, apparently there are more than oddly acting owls that have been occurring throughout the day. Instead of the rain I promised yesterday, viewers in Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have experienced a downpour of shooting stars! There seems to have been an early celebration of Bonfire Night - the holiday is not celebrated until next week, folks! However, I can assure you that it will be a wet night tonight."

In his armchair, Mr. Dursley sat frozen in place. Shooting stars are visible throughout Great Britain? Flying owls in daylight? There seem to be mysterious people in cloaks everywhere? As well as a whisper, a whisper concerning the Potters...

"It's scary how he's able to put it together. He's not the brightest star in the sky, but if he was close to figuring it out, how close do you think other Muggles came?" Isobel MacDougal, a fifth year Ravenclaw, whispered to her twin Morag, who she was curled around as they shared a sofa chair. Neither was willing to let the other go after reading how Morag had died in the future.

Morag intertwined their fingers together, gently running her thumb across her twin's knuckles.

"Perhaps, but remember, Dursley already had prior knowledge of the Magical World. It's the only reason he thought of the possibility of Magick being involved. It was irresponsible of everyone to act in such a manner. However, it would have taken much more for the Muggles to be truly suspicious and become aware of Magick. Something like what would have happened in the future." Morag was pulled even closer to her sister, as her words reminded Isobel of how she could have lost her twin, her best friend.

Upon entering the living room, Mrs. Dursley was carrying two cups of tea. It was of no use. He would have to speak with her about this. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “Er — Petunia, my love — you wouldn't have happened to have heard from your sister recently, would you?”

 His expectations were confirmed when Mrs. Dursley appeared shocked and angry. As a matter of fact, they usually pretended that she did not have a sister.

 "Something tells me, Tunie, that if Lily were here, she'd wish anyone but you were her sister. Your continued spite is a spit in her face for the love and affection she always had for you. Yet, she loved you regardless." Severus couldn't help but sneer at the hateful woman who he could never come to terms with that she shared the same blood as Lily.

Petunia didn't show it, only sneered back at the vile man, but his words chipped a crack in her carefully crafted stone wall of resentment for her younger sister.

She put everything she had into filling that chink up, for if she thought about how he was right, how Lily would forgive her, still love her, regardless of her cruel words about her, she'd lose that forgiveness the moment Petunia's treatment of her son, the son she had died for, came out.

"No," she replied in a sharp tone. “Why?”

"The news was filled with funny stories," Mr. Dursley muttered. “There were owls...shooting stars...and there were many funny dressed people in town during the day...”

"Is he really calling us funny looking? Him?" Blaise said in disbelief and disgust, causing many to laugh.

"It seems so." Theo couldn't help but laugh at the offended look on his vain friend's, possibly boyfriend's, face.

“So?” Mrs. Dursley snapped waspishly.

"My initial thought was...maybe...it had to do with...you know...her crowd."

"You really can't say it, can you?" Susan asked the couple, whose hate for something that was so intricately woven into the nephew left in their care, was so profound they couldn't even say what it was.

"Do you mean Magick? No, they can't." Harry said stiffly.

Dread pooled in Susan's stomach at what that would have meant for Harry growing up.

It wasn't only Susan who felt the forbidding of Harry's words.

With pursed lips, Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea. It was unclear whether or not Mr. Dursley would dare tell her that he had heard the name "Potter." He decided that he would not do so. Instead, he said, in the most casual way possible,

"Their son is about the same age as Dudley now, isn't he? ”

"I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley in a stiff voice.

“His name? That would be Howard, wouldn't it? ”

“Harry. It is a rather common and unpleasant name, if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you, you cow." Ginny snapped, tired of hearing the hate the woman carried for her own family.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips at her daughter's outburst, but said nothing else about it.

It would be hypocritical to scold her daughter when she agreed completely.

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly down into his stomach. "Yes, I completely agree."

Ginny turned her glare on the Dursley man.

Amusement spread as the man wilted and tried to shrink under the intensity of the redheaded girl.

They went upstairs to bed without exchanging another word on the subject. Mr. Dursley peered through the bedroom window while Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom. Still, the cat was present. As if it were waiting for something, it stared down Privet Drive.

Once more, all eyes turned to stare at the Deputy Headmistress.

Once more, she ignored them all.

Could he have been imagining things? Is this related to the Potters in any way? In the event... If it became known that they were related to a pair of - he was not sure he could handle the situation.

Having to bear listening to this horrid man's disparaging remarks about two people who they had loved with all their hearts, who they had mourned every day for over fourteen years, was taking a toll on Sirius and Remus. The reins of their forced calm were slipping more and more, the rage biting into their skin, begging to be set free.

The Dursleys retired to bed. Despite the fact that Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly, Mr. Dursley remained awake, mulling over the day's events in his head. Before falling asleep, he had one last, soothing thought: even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come anywhere near him and Mrs. Dursley. There was no doubt that the Potters knew what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind...He did not see how he or Petunia could become involved in any of that which may be going on. He yawned and turned over...they would not be affected by anything that may be going on....

That was a very wrong assumption on his part.

"The one time I wish he wasn't." Harry said forlornly, remembering the ten years of loneliness and hate he endured at their hands until he received his Hogwarts letter. Then he was able to escape them for most of the year.

Despite Mr. Dursley drifting into an uneasy sleep, outside the cat perched on the wall showed no signs of sleepiness. In its quiet, unblinking gaze, it stared unwaveringly out over Privet Drive at the far corner. In spite of the slam of a car door on the next street or the swooping of two owls above, it did not so much as even quiver. The cat did not move until nearly midnight.

Professor McGonagall threw a glare at the Headmaster.

An individual appeared on the corner that the cat had been watching, appearing suddenly and silently as if he was just appearing out of thin air. The cat twitched its tail and narrowed its eyes.

As one, Remus, Sirius, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Lee all winced in sympathy.

They had all witnessed, or been the source of such a look. It never boded well for any of them.

Until this man appeared on Privet Drive, nothing like him had ever been seen there. In addition to being tall and thin, he was also very old, as evidenced by the silvery coloring of his hair and beard, both of which were long enough to be tucked into his belt. In addition to wearing long robes and a purple cloak that swept the ground, he wore high-heeled, buckled boots. Behind half-moon spectacles, he had a pair of sparkling, bright, blue eyes and a long, crooked nose, as though it had been broken more than once.

Aberforth clenched his fist tightly. His knuckles turned white before he slowly forced himself to relax. He knew how his brother's nose was broken, just as he knew why Albus had never allowed himself to set it properly.

It was to be a constant reminder of what his ambition and schemes had cost their family.

It seems it was a lesson he had never truly learned from, only repeating and leaving more devastation in his wake.

Albus Dumbledore was the name of this man.

It appears that Albus Dumbledore was unaware that he had just entered a neighborhood in which everything, from his name to his footwear, was where he would not be welcomed.

"He knew, he just didn't care. When has it ever stopped him before?" Astoria whispered to her sister who hummed in agreement.

As he rummaged through his cloak, searching for something. He did, however, appear to be aware of the fact that he was being watched when, suddenly, he glanced over at the cat, who continued to stare at him. He seemed to find the sight of the cat amusing for some reason. A chuckle escaped his lips and he muttered, "I should have known.".

In his inside pocket, he discovered what he was looking for. The object appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter. He opened it with a flick, held it in the air, and clicked it. With a small pop, the nearest street lamp went out.

Many faces looked on in intrigue and awe, never before having heard of such an object.

A second click resulted in the next lamp flickering into darkness. The Put-Outer was clicked twelve times,

"It's actually called a Deluminator, I created it myself." Albus had interrupted himself to inform those he was reading to.

Even those who disliked the man, most of them being Slytherins, still could not help but be anything less than impressed by the man's creation.

Albus Dumbledore may be the antithesis to everything they stand for and believe in. However, it could not be denied that he was a genius and more than talented in many fields of Magick.

In the distance, he could only see two pinpricks of light, which were the cat's eyes watching him. Even Mrs. Dursley, with her beady eyes, would look out her window at this moment

Petunia turned red in equal parts anger and embarrassment at how she was described, and how her tendency to spy was called out.

It would be impossible for them to observe any activity on the pavement below. After tucking the Put-Outer back into his cloak, Dumbledore walked down the street to number four, sitting beside the cat on the wall. A moment later, he spoke to it without looking at it.

"I am delighted to see you here, Professor McGonagall."

Upon turning to smile at the tabby, he found that it had disappeared. Instead, he smiled at a rather formidable woman wearing square glasses that matched the markings around the cat's eyes. Likewise, she wore a cloak of emerald green. In a tight bun, her black hair was pulled back.

All the Dursleys gaped wide-eyed at the witch as they finally understood the amusement of all the others present. The shock quickly wore off and anger clouded the two oldest Dursleys.

Before they could say something that they would surely and quickly regret, Albus continued reading.

Her appearance was clearly ruffled.

"How were you able to tell it was me?" she asked.

Everyone looked at Professor McGonagall as if they could not believe she had asked that question.

There was never any question that it was her, it was obvious.

"I have never seen a cat sit so rigidly before, my dear Professor."

Case in point.

There were a few snickers throughout the Hall.

The Transfiguration professor quickly located those.

The snickering quickly stopped.

Umbridge glared at the Head of Gryffindor and the power she so easily wielded over the foul little miscreants.

Dolores failed to realize it was not power, but respect.

As well as a healthy dose of fear.

"You would be stiff if you sat on a brick wall for the whole day," Professor McGonagall remarked.

"There was nothing for me to celebrate. I lost too much that night that Voldemort's defeat was a hollow victory." All around the Hall, many couldn't help but notice that their victories, past and future, ended up being hollow often. The cost of them was too high, too steep to truly count as a victory.

"The entire day? While you could have been celebrating instead? There must have been over a dozen feasts and parties I passed on my way here.”

A furious sniff was given by Professor McGonagall.

That anger came back tenfold as she was reminded of Albus' words, for the true scope of her loss was not known until later on.

James and Lily were dead. Harry was orphaned and forced to live with despicable Muggles. Remus was missing, lost in the wreckage of the destruction of his family. Peter was supposedly murdered. Sirius was a supposedly Betrayer and murderer, the spy who had got half of the original Order killed.

Yet, she had spent nearly thirteen years struggling with the belief that half of what she had thought she had known, of what had been reported to be truth, was nothing but lies that held an even larger Betrayal.

She had learned in the wake of Voldemort's return that Sirius was innocent.

That the boy she loved as her own, the boy who would constantly slip and call her mum, was innocent of everything he had been accused of. Not only was he innocent, but he had also been denied the chance to prove himself as such, and been forced to suffer a fate more terrible than any nightmare.

The death of his closest friends, the loss of watching his son grow up, the derision and scorn of the entire Magical World.

Twelve years in Azkaban.

At the end of all that, he would have died in less than six months' time.

“Oh, of course, I have celebrated,” she replied impatiently. "I would have expected that they would be a bit more cautious, but no - even the Muggles are noticing something is amiss. They reported it on their news.” She turned back to look at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. “Yes, I heard it. There were flocks of owls...shooting stars...Well, it turns out that they are not entirely stupid. It was inevitable that they would notice something. Down in Kent, there were shooting stars — my bet is that that was Dedalus Diggle. The man never had much sense.”

"Dedalus, please forgive..." Minerva was cut off with a wave of Dedalus' hand, brushing the apology away with a tiny understanding smile.

"There's no reason to apologize. I know how much James and Lily meant to you. I got caught up in You-Know-Who's defeat. I failed to realize what came with it. I hated myself the next day when I realized I had celebrated something that caused the death of people who had fought side by side with me. The death of my friends." Professor nodded at the man's words and understanding, unable to speak with the tightness in her throat.

“You cannot fault them,” said Dumbledore in a gentle manner. "Over the past eleven years, we have had very few reasons to celebrate."

“I realize that” Professor McGonagall said bitterly.

Nevertheless, that is no reason to lose our heads over this. There is an astounding lack of care being shown by people who are on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothing, exchanging rumors."

Oh, how Minerva had spent that day praying that those rumors were wrong, that James and Lily weren't...

Here, she glanced sharply sideways at Dumbledore, as if expecting him to reveal something, but he did not, so she continued.

The fact that Albus had refused to meet her eyes, had not immediately told her that the rumors were just that, rumors. That he had not told her upon arriving that James and Lily were indeed alive and with their son, made the truth that Minerva had refused to believe creep closer.

"It would be a fine thing if, on the day that You-Know-Who appears to have disappeared, the Muggles were informed of our existence. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?”

Minerva hadn't yet been able to say the words, couldn't even think of them.

To ask for confirmation of something she couldn't even fathom.

James and Lily...

Merlin, it still hurts as much as it did that night.

“That would seem to be the case,” said Dumbledore. "Our lives are filled with many blessings for which we should be thankful. Would you like to try a lemon drop? ”

Those who had known and loved James and Lily, and were aware of the pain that Minerva was in at this point in time glared at the Headmaster for his poorly timed snack.

“What is that?”

“They are lemon drops. They are a type of Muggle sweet that I find quite enjoyable."

“No, thank you,” said Professor McGonagall icily, showing that she did not see this as an appropriate time for lemon drops.

All around, heads were nodding in agreement with that.

"As I said, even if You-Know-Who has vanished —"

“My dear Professor McGonagall, certainly an astute individual like you is able to call him by his name? For eleven years — all this ‘You-Know-Who’ foolishness — I have been urging people to refer to him by his proper name: Voldemort.” The name caused Professor McGonagall to flinch, however, Dumbledore did not seem to notice, distracted by attempting to unstick two lemon drops. “Everything becomes so confusing if we continually refer to ’You-Know-Who.’ As a matter of fact, I have never been afraid to mention Voldemort's name.”

"I am aware you have not." Professor McGonagall spoke half exasperatedly, half admiringly. However, you are different from other people. There is no doubt in everyone's mind that you are the only person You-Know oh, fine, Voldemort was scared of."

After hearing the letters sent from the future, everyone understood that fact. These letters showed that Hogwarts was the only place that offered any real safety, and how Voldemort had gained control of Hogwarts right after the Headmaster had died.

"I am flattered by your words," Dumbledore replied calmly. "The powers Voldemort possessed were beyond my ability."

"Only because you're too noble to use them." Harry said the simple truth.

He may be upset with Dumbledore, more than upset really, but even then, he could not deny the truth of his words.

Dumbledore and Voldemort were equal in sheer power. Despite that, Dumbledore did not treat those under him with the same callousness and viciousness that Voldemort did. Voldemort, who quickly and easily threw Crucio's at those he had claimed moments earlier to be his family.

Even though he had the power to do so, to do so much more, the thought of ever doing so would never cross Dumbledore's mind.

"Only because you are — well — too noble to make use of them."

"Aww, ickle Harrykins thinks like Minnie." George said as he squeezed Harry's cheek.

Harry slapped his hand away and gave the older boy a glare who responded with a wide smile.

"I will take that as a compliment, thank you very much." Harry said before he crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend's twin.

"It is fortunate that it is dark right now. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she complimented my new earmuffs.”

As Professor McGonagall stared sharply at Dumbledore, she said: "The rumors that are circulating are nothing in comparison to the owls. Are you aware of what they are saying? What is the reason for his disappearance? How was he finally stopped?”

The previous light and playful atmosphere left behind by Harry and George quickly evaporated as everyone knew what was to come soon. Undoubtedly, it would cause many people pain.

Yet, they all knew that the knowledge of already knowing, of already living through it, would not lessen the blow it would always inflict upon them.

There appeared to be no doubt that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most eager to discuss, her true purpose for waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she looked at Dumbledore so piercingly as she had at this moment. Regardless of what "everyone" said, she was not willing to believe it until Dumbledore confirmed it. However, Dumbledore preferred to choose another lemon drop rather than reply.

Minerva remembered that it was at that moment that any semblance of hope had left her. The way Albus had stalled, had refused to say anything until it was forced out of him was confirmation that her worst fears were true.

Minerva McGonagall felt her heart break all over again as grief as raw and fresh as that night flowed through her.

Continuing, she stated, "What they are saying is that Voldemort appeared in Godric's Hollow last night, searching for the Potters. It is rumored that Lily — and — James — are — that they're dead."

Tears ran down the faces of Harry, Sirius, and Remus unashamedly as they sought comfort from each other.

Even though they knew it was coming, it did not make it any less painful. It didn't make it any easier to endure.

Nothing ever would.

It was with a heavy heart that Dumbledore bowed. Professor McGonagall let out a pained gasp.

"Lily and James...I cannot believe it. I refused to believe it. Oh, Albus."

"Thank you for caring, Professor." Harry said, eyes still glued to his hands, refusing to look at anything else.

"Oh, Harry. Of course, I cared. I mourned James and Lily like a mother would mourn her children. I loved them both as if they were my own. I feel their loss every single day. Seeing you, watching you grow, becoming someone they would both be proud of is one of the few things that soothes the jagged edges of the wound their loss left." Harry stared into the dark eyes of his Head of House, tears streaming down his face. He watched as her own tears left a trail down her cheeks as her eyes reflected much of the same pain Harry felt.

In that moment, Harry felt closer, a deeper kinship and emotion for his Head of House as they mourned together the loss of two people they had each loved deeply.

Dumbledore reached out, understanding her pain and patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. "I know...I know..." he said in a heavy voice.

Everyone heard the quake and grief in the Headmaster's voice as he read.

As Professor McGonagall spoke, her voice began to tremble with grief. "It does not end there. They claim that he attempted to kill the Potters' son, Harry.

"No no no no no no no. I can't lose Harry. Not him. Not my son. I can't." Sirius says nearly hysterically, gasping for breath as he clings desperately to his son for dear life.

It was all too much for the man.

The reminder of those days, the days he had lost everything.

James; his brother, Lily; his sister, his family that he had built from the ground up, the chance to raise his son, the woman he loved, his freedom.

Sirius knew what Voldemort had tried to do, and was aware of the scar it had left, having seen it for himself after it had first happened. However, hearing it read so clearly, hearing how close his son had come to death, it was all too much.

He was aware that it would not be the last time he could have lost the most cherished person in his life, the most beautiful part of himself, even if he did not know the details.

Sirius could lose everyone, everyone he loved, everyone he cared about, and survive as long as he still had his son. It would be tedious, excruciating to live day after day, but he could live through that pain.

If he lost Harry there would be nothing left.

Sirius pressed his face into his son's hair, trying to breathe in his scent but he couldn't. His heart was beating too fast, his lungs had seized, the mention of how close Harry had come to...it was all too much.

Suddenly, Sirius felt a sharp, painful tug on the back of his head, followed by a stinging, burning sensation on his left cheek, the force of it snapping his head to the side. Finally, his lungs were able to get the much needed air they needed as he gasped from the shock of the sudden pain.

The next moment, a hand roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair, using their grip to force Sirius' face forward once more.

Grey eyes, so much like his own it was as if he were looking into a mirror, filled his vision.

Regulus.

"I need you to listen to me, Sirius. Do you understand? Can you hear me?" Sirius nodded shakingly at his little brother.

"Harry is here, he is safe, and he is alive. There is not one thing that I would not do to keep him that way. Not one single thing. I would burn this entire world down with a smile on my face if it kept your son safe. I will not allow any harm to come to my nephew regardless of whatever we may read and find out. Do you understand? Do I need to promise you in Blood? Merlin, I will do so, gladly, easily, if I have to because nothing will happen to him." The words of his brother, the absolute honesty and conviction in them broke through the fog of Sirius' mind. Feeling returned to his body, which had grown numb in his catatonic state. He could feel the weight of his son in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around him as though they were trying to anchor Sirius down to the here and now.

Looking down, he was met with wide, worried green eyes, and Sirius placed a reverent kiss on his son's forehead.

"I'm alright. I'm okay. I'm sorry, Harry." He whispered into the messy curls.

"It's alright, Siri. You don't have to apologize. When we read about...about your...I understand." Sirius just held his son tighter to him.

Sirius felt the weight of Remus' arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling both him and his son closer to his fellow Marauder.

He couldn't help but do what he did next. With one of his legs, he swept both his brother's legs from underneath him, knocking him off balance, and pulling him onto his lap before he fell onto the floor.

Regulus let out a loud squawk as he landed half on Sirius' and half on Remus' lap.

"Was that really necessary, Sirius? If you wanted me close, all you had to do was say so." Regulus groused.

"Would've been too easy. What I did was funnier." The smirk in the Black Heir's voice was unmistakable.

Regulus didn't feel like fighting. He much preferred his brother like this to the nearly catatonic state he was in. So, instead of saying anything, Regulus rolled his eyes and snuggled closer.

"However, he could not do so. He couldn’t kill that little boy."

"Thank Merlin for that." Remus shuddered.

"Nobody knows why or how, but people are claiming that Voldemort's power somehow broke when he was unable to kill Harry Potter, and that is what caused him to disappear."

No one could help but look questioningly at the boy. All were hoping to learn more about what actually happened that night.

It was the biggest mystery in their world.

Grimly, Dumbledore nodded.

"It's - is it true?" Professor McGonagall's voice faltered as she tried to choke back tears. "In light of what he has done...all the people who he has killed..."

Everyone who had lost someone in the last war cried for all those who they had lost. Overwhelmed by grief at the constant reminder of the chapter's words.

"He was incapable of killing a little boy? It’s absolutely unbelievable...of all the things that could have stopped him...however in the name of everything that is good in the world, how did Harry survive?”

Everyone leaned closer, hoping to hear what had happened that night.

"We cannot know for certain," said Dumbledore. “It is possible that we will never know.”

Regulus seethed silently. If what he thought...if the Headmaster knew...there would be no force in the world that would be able to stop him from acting on his anger.

Under her spectacles, Professor McGonagall dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

A golden watch that Dumbledore had taken from his pocket was examined closely by him as he gave a great sniff. It was a very odd watch. Twelve hands were present, but there were no numerals on the dial; instead, small planets moved around the edge. Though it must have made sense to Dumbledore since he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid is late. Did he, by the way, tell you I would be here?”

“It was,” said Professor McGonagall. "Is there any chance you will tell me why you are here, of all places? ”

"I am bringing Harry to his aunt and uncle. He has no family left other than them."

"We would have been more than happy to take him." Mrs. Weasley said as her husband nodded along. Both Weasley parents gave Harry looks of fondness and love as their children nodded in agreement. The Weasley children would have loved growing up with Harry. A brother to most, he was also the love of one of their lives.

From where the Hufflepuffs were gathered, a disdainful scoff sounded.

"Please, like you could afford another child. You could barely provide for the children you have." Zacharias Smith said derisively.

A ringing silence filled the Great Hall.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces grew red with embarrassment and shame. Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears.

All the Weasley children grew red in rage but before any of them could say anything, it was the raven haired, honorary Weasley who came to the family's defense.

"The Weasley children are the luckiest and richest children of all. They may not have a lot of money, they may have to get things second hand, but they have an abundance of what truly matters. Every inch of their home is saturated with the love that their parents have for them. With the love they have for each other." Now Mrs. Weasley's tears fell for an entirely different reason. Hearing the boy she considered a son, stand up for her family, for his family, filled her with overwhelming love for the fierce green eyed boy.

"The only thing that could come close to being as good as being raised by my father, would be being raised by the Weasley's." Mr. Weasley looked on at Harry with pride and felt it swell in his chest. Yes, his family were extremely fortunate that the boy had come into their lives.

"So shut up before I break your nose again." Harry finished and as he gave one last glare to the vile Hufflepuff, all seven Weasley children jumped on him to give him hugs. They all ended up in a dog pile on the floor.

"Hermione, get in here." Ginny said and a squeak was heard from Hermione as both Fred and George pulled her into the group.

"Aww our littlest brother defending the family, I'm so proud." Bill said through a grunt as Ginny's elbow ended up in his stomach, but he had a smile on his face nevertheless.

Each Weasley child gave Harry words of love but it was those of Percy that surprised him the most.

"You've been more of a Weasley than I have in the last few months. Thank you for doing what I didn't and staying with them. I hope I get the chance to make everything up to you and them." Percy whispered softly, so softly that only Harry and his siblings were able to hear the words, as he held Harry tightly.

"Percy, there's nothing to thank me for and nothing you need to make up to me. Family have their disagreements but when the time comes, when it really matters, family stands together. That's what you did the moment Professor McGonagall opened that letter. But if it really is something you need, then I already forgive you." Harry felt a spot on his shirt grow wet from Percy's tears but he just held the older Weasley closer. He could hear the slight sniffles from Charlie in his ear.

"Yeah, Perce. You're our brother too and we love you. We're just happy you're back where you belong. With your family. That's all we need or want." Ron said with a slight quake in his voice.

When they all managed to compose themselves a bit, they broke apart. Everyone saw their red eyes, but no one worried as there were smiles on each of their faces.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked on in pure happiness and contentment as they watched all their children.

Albus looked on in happiness as Harry and the others took their places once more. It made his heart lighter to see that Harry had still managed to find love and build a family when it was his decisions and plans that had denied him of such for ten years.

“You do not intend – you cannot possibly be referring to the people who live here?” cried Professor McGonagall, quickly leaping to her feet and pointing accusingly at number four. "Dumbledore - you cannot do that. All day today I have been observing them. It would be impossible to find two individuals who are less alike us than them. As for their son — as he screamed for sweets, I observed him kicking his mother all the way up the street. Harry Potter should not live here!”

"Thank you for trying, Professor." Harry was genuinely thankful to his Head of House. It soothed something in him to know that someone had fought for him, against him staying with his relatives.

"No thanks are needed, Harry." The Professor smiled at him, tears in her eyes.

"This is the best place for him to be," said Dumbledore resolutely. "It will be easier for him to understand everything as he grows older because his aunt and uncle can explain it all to him. I’ve made sure that I have written them a letter.”

Many around the Hall were wondering why a letter would be necessary if the Headmaster was there to explain it to them.

Regulus had a suspicion but decided to stay quiet until he was certain.

“You've written them a letter?” repeated Professor McGonagall in a faint whisper, collapsing back down on the wall, unable to hold herself up any longer. "Do you honestly believe that you can explain all of this in a letter, Dumbledore?" There is no way these people will ever be able to understand, let alone accept him! There is no doubt that what happened will make him famous — a legend — in the future. I wouldn't be surprised if today became known as Harry Potter Day —

"Oh, Merlin, please no. Tell me there isn't." Harry said with wide, pleading eyes.

"No, there is not." Amelia said with a small smile that widened as she watched Harry melt with relief.

She decided not to tell him that some had tried but she had made sure that paperwork had gotten lost. If it had been her family's death that had been what caused Voldemort's defeat and people had tried to make a holiday of it, she would have ended up in a cell next to Sirius.

"The name Harry will be known to every child in the world — books will be written about him."

“Precisely.” said Dumbledore, regarding the Professor over the top of his half-moon glasses, his face serious. Any boy would be turned around by such a statement. His fame preceding his ability to walk and talk! He will be famous for something he will never even remember!

Harry flinched, wishing that Dumbledore was right. Except the Dementors had made him remember. The only time Harry could remember their voices was as they fought and begged for his life, in their final moments before their deaths.

Are you able to see how much better off he will be if he grows up away from all that until the time comes for him to take it? ”

Upon opening her mouth, Professor McGonagall changed her mind, swallowed, and uttered brokenly, "Yes, of course, you are right."

"I wish I had fought harder against you staying there." Professor McGonagall said forlornly as she gazed at Harry.

"You fought for me. That's all that matters. That's enough for me." Dear Merlin, none of them deserve this boy or his forgiveness.

"But, Dumbledore, how will the boy be getting here?” Her eyes suddenly focused on his cloak as though she suspected that he was concealing Harry underneath it.

"He will be brought by Hagrid."

"You believe that it would be wise for Hagrid to be trusted with something as vital as this?”

Hagrid had given Professor McGonagall a hurt and betrayed look. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes.

The Head of Gryffindor House looked at the man apologetically, making her entire demeanor more open to convey the honesty of what she was about to say.

"I did not mean that the way it sounded, Hagrid. There is no doubt in my mind that you are one of the most trustworthy people in the entire world. I am one of the most fortunate people to be able to call you a friend." Hagrid sniffled at the Professor's words but gave her a small wobbly smile.

"I only meant that you could be careless sometimes, not because you are a careless person but because you do not need to worry about being hurt by some of the things we are susceptible to, due to your size. I know you would never do anything to put Harry in harm's way. It's just after James and Lily I..." Professor McGonagall's voice cracked as she trailed off, unable to stop a tear from escaping her eye.

"It's alright, Professor. I understand. I should have never thought you'd think me untrustworthy." Hagrid gave Professor McGonagall a smile full of warmth that she couldn't help but to return in kind.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Harry, Ron, and Hermione said in unison, causing the giant man to beam at them with pride, his dark eyes sparkling with affection and warmth.

It was true.

Hagrid had been the truest friend the three of them could have asked for.

Time and time again, the giant man with an even larger heart had shown his love and loyalty to them.

Hagrid had been the one to introduce Harry to the Magical World. He had broken through the door, knocking it off its hinges in that miserable, cold shack in the middle of the sea. Given Harry the first birthday cake he could remember, along with his Hogwarts letter. The giant man was the first person who had shown Harry kindness, the first person who had stood up against the Dursleys on his behalf. Hagrid had gifted him with his most precious gift, his most loyal friend, Hedwig.

In the three's first year at Hogwarts, Hagrid had been the first and only person, until that Christmas, to send him anything by owl post. Sending Harry an owl, inviting him to tea, so that Harry would not have been the only person in all of Hogwarts to never receive mail. Not only had he sent it that day, but continued to do so, even after he had given the three of them an open invitation to visit whenever they wanted. All for the simple fact that he wanted to make sure that Harry would never feel left out about not receiving anything. Besides his kindness and thoughtfulness, Hagrid also showed loyalty, staying by Harry and Hermione's side even after they had lost all those points due to the dragon incident.

The way he stayed by Harry and Hermione's side after they had lost all those points in their first year. At the end of the year, after Harry had confronted Quirrell and he lay recovering in the hospital bed, Hagrid had sat by his side and once more, gave Harry another of his most precious gifts. The photo album of his parents.

In their second year, after Ron had tried to curse Malfoy for calling Hermione the disgusting slur, Hagrid had welcomed them into his home once more. He provided Ron with privacy to recover from burping up slugs. Never shying away from Harry, nor looking at him as a villain after it came out that he was a Parselmouth. Never once did he believe any of the rumors that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. How, even after he had found out he was about to be sent to Azkaban because of the attacks on the Muggleborns, he still managed to try to help Harry and Ron on his way out in the only way he could.

Third year had been a difficult year for them, between believing that a madman was out to kill Harry, to secret Time-Turners, to pets thought to be dead. That year, the trio was frequently at odds with each other. Their friendship, one that each of them cherished and counted on more than anything else had been nearly irreparably damaged. Yet, Hagrid had been there, had reminded them of what they had together, the family they had created, and everything they had been through together. The man had made them see that their friendship was more meaningful than any petty squabbles that could come up.

Last year, after Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, Hagrid had refused to believe Harry was the one who had put his own name in. He had fought against the idea of Harry participating in a tournament that could potentially kill him. Yet, when Hagrid realized Harry's participation was inevitable, he became one of Harry's biggest supporters. Without Hagrid, Harry would most likely not have made it through the First Task.

So yes, the three trusted Hagrid deeply.

"I just don't trust him to keep my secrets." Ron mumbled under his breath. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

That was true as well.

For how loyal and trustworthy Hagrid was, he was awful when it came to secrets.

He would never intentionally or maliciously tell anyone anything. It was usually more of an accident, a thoughtless comment. There were a lot of those in their first year.

“I have every faith that Hagrid could do this, I would trust him with my life,” said Dumbledore.

Hagrid's face turned bright red underneath his wild beard and hair. Nevertheless, he gave the Headmaster a beaming smile as he puffed up with pride.

He returned the smile, for the words he had spoken then still ring true today.

They were fortunate to have Hagrid's loyalty, but most importantly, his friendship.

"It is my sincere belief that his heart is in the right place, but you cannot pretend that he is not careless," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly.

The gentle giant gave the Head of Gryffindor House a smile, showing he understood what she meant and took no offense.

"There is a tendency for him to — what was that? ”

"What? What happened? Is everything alright?" Sirius asked in rapid succession. He couldn't help but worry about the unknown.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was the night his son would be left with his relatives. Although that thought sat as well as a festering wound in him, he didn't know of any attack that had taken place that night.

A possible attack on his defenseless, hurt infant son.

"Calm down, Padfoot. Harry's right there, he's fine." Remus soothed his brother, but he held himself tensely, worried about what his former Head of House had heard during such a night.

Neither were calm but both remained silent, wanting the Headmaster to continue so they could find out.

The silence around them was broken by a low rumbling sound. As they checked up and down the street for any sign of a headlight, the sound grew louder; it swelled to a roar as they both turned their attention to the sky - and suddenly an enormous motorcycle fell out of the sky and struck the road in front of them.

Memories, so far away, he did not realize he had, for they were like water slipping through his fingers. The tighter he tried to hold on, the more he would lose, slowly returning; a dawn breaking through the inky black night sky.

It was the scent of leather and ozone. The ozone was so strong it smelled like thunderstorms so powerful that they could cloud and darken the entire country. Yet, Harry knew he would be dry and warm. The warmth was soaked in the aroma of rum spice and cinnamon that was sweet and spicy and made Harry feel safe and loved.

The next thing he remembered was the feeling of freedom, of being in the air, the wind whipping around him but he never felt their chill. Someone always remembered to take special care that he would always be warm, never wanting their time together to get Harry sick. That careful detail was put into precautions so Harry could feel the freedom of the air without the worry of injury. As the air breezed through his messy hair, he could feel the slight vibrations from the engine reverberating through his body. Squeals of joy were lost in the wind.

The loud, roaring engine, which would have had anyone else covering their ears from its volume, was a soothing lullaby for Harry. A sound that came with the knowledge that one of his favorite people was close and a shower of love and affection would be rained down on him.

Stars twinkling in the night sky, the many faces of the moon illuminating their surroundings.

Out of everything that he was slowly remembering, the memory that was strongest, that was most clear, was the barking laughter. It filled a young Harry's heart with joy and love.

"That's my motorcycle. I gave it to Hagrid to take you to safety." Sirius said with tears in his eyes. Eyes that looked much like the stars on those late-night rides.

"A lot of joy came with that back. Watching Hagrid leave with you on it that night was one of the most painful things I had to do." The tears spilled over and trailed down Sirius' cheek.

"I remember that bike." Harry said and Sirius closed his eyes in pain.

"Not from that night though." Long, thick, black curls whipped in the air with how fast Sirius turned to look at his son.

"It's small flashes, but there were feelings of joy, contentment, and love. I could hear the engine and you laughing. We...we were happy." Emerald eyes glistening with tears stared into liquid silver. Sirius gently ran a thumb over Harry's cheek before placing a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm happy as long as I have you." Sirius said into his son's hair.

He'd face everything he'd had in his life a hundred times over, if it brought him to his son. Harry was worth everything and more to him.

As huge as the motorcycle was, it was nothing in comparison to the man who was seated on it. His height was almost twice that of a normal man and his width was at least five times greater than that. He was simply too enormous to be possible, wild looking as well — his bushy black hair and beard concealed most of his face; his hands were the size of trash can lids, and his feet, dressed in leather boots, were like baby dolphins. A bundle of blankets being held in the vast, muscular arms of this man.

The stiffness in Sirius' shoulders eased slightly at that.

"Don't worry, Sirius. I made sure Harry was kept warm and safe the entire trip." Hagrid gave the father a look that showed he understood one of the many worries the Black Heir had.

"Thank you, Hagrid." Sirius smiled gratefully.

Hagrid waved his large hand, showing that no thanks were needed.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, every letter of the name embroidered with relief. “At last. How did you acquire that motorcycle?”

"From me, after you had my son taken from my arms, when we needed each other the most." Sirius growled under his breath, holding Harry tightly to him. The pain from all those years ago were deep and still bleeding.

“I was allowed to borrow it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” the giant replied as he carefully dismounted the borrowed motorcycle. "It was lent to me by young Sirius Black. I’ve got the lad, sir.”

Everyone in the Hall looked at Sirius and the further evidence that showed that he had not done what he was accused of.

It was Theodore Nott who drew everyone's attention next. He stood up, a thunderous look on his face, as his eyes burned a blue fire, ready to scorch all in their path.

It seems there was only one thing in their path, actually one person specifically.

"What? You didn't think to question the fact, or at least make sure that Heir Black received a tribunal after knowing he gave Hagrid his motorcycle? That he gave Hagrid the only means of transportation that would be safe for Harry to take? Provided Magical transportation to someone to take the child everyone thought he had betrayed and was ready to kill to safety, to someone who was not allowed to perform Magick and could not come up with an alternative on his own?" The boy's words caused the Head of the DMLE, and the Aurors, both past and present, to gaze at him in silent amazement for a moment before they looked at each other.

The boy was right.

How would Hagrid have taken Harry to Dumbledore? When Sirius was under Veritaserum, he never mentioned how Hagrid had arrived. There was no mention of a creature, the Knight Bus, nothing. That only left one possibility: Apparition.

If that was the case, how would someone who shouldn't, let alone, allowed, to Apparate himself, have the skill to Side-Along with an infant?

In that case, why had Dumbledore sent Hagrid of all people, someone who couldn't even use Magick to defend himself, to be the person to take Harry from the wreckage of his home? There would be no way Hagrid would survive if a group of Death Eaters descended on him, especially if he had to protect Baby Harry at the same time.

Had Sirius truly been the Betrayer, had he truly wanted Harry dead, he would have been given the perfect opportunity with Hagrid being the one to get Harry. Hagrid may be incredibly difficult to kill, but for a son of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, the Heir Black himself, it would be no difficult task.

Yet, Hagrid had not been killed, had been given the motorbike by Sirius himself, and Dumbledore had known.

Dumbledore knew and said nothing.

"Did you automatically assume he was guilty because of his family name? The only Black who was ever put into Gryffindor, standing against everything he was raised to believe wasn't enough for you, was it? Heir Black would have always been the first person to be accused of anything, to be used as a scapegoat, all because of the family he was born into. Although, I shouldn't be surprised. None of us should be. We, better than anyone, know what it is like to live under your bias." Theo said with a sweeping gesture to himself and his Slytherin Housemates.

"Mr. Nott, I understand emotions are high but the Headmaster..." Professor McGonagall was shocked at the outburst of the usually quiet, mild-mannered boy. Yet, before she even finished speaking Theodore Nott had cut her off.

"I do not mean to disrespect you, Professor McGonagall. You are one of the few who treat us equally as the other Houses, but the Headmaster preaches acceptance and unity but is the biggest divider and hypocrite of all." Blue eyes, colder than the ice capped mountains of Norway bore into the Headmaster once more.

"Why do you think so many Slytherins end up following the Dark Lord? It's the only option any of us had because of you." Theo snarled, pointing a finger at Dumbledore.

"We have no doubt that we would be looked at with constant suspicion. Merlin, I could only imagine what would happen to us should another Pettigrew happen, who would be the first ones to be blamed.” Every Slytherin knew it would be them, even though Pettigrew himself was a Gryffindor.

"Look at the fate of our Head of House, the only Slytherin currently among you. Ordering him to kill you with no care for what it would do, what it would cost him." Theo could easily recall the look of devastation, of agony, of deep and utter betrayal on Professor Snape's face as they all heard what he had been forced to do. Every Slytherin was forced to watch as the man many of them respected, the man who to most of them was the only adult in their life who genuinely cared for them, the strongest person they knew, nearly broke in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

"His loyalty to you made him a murderer, a pawn in your fight against the Dark Lord." The full force of every Slytherin's furious gaze was upon the Headmaster. The open hostility and resentment of what the Headmaster had made of their Head of House was on open display for all to witness.

Severus Snape gaped openly at the defense his House gave him, as well as their vexation on his behalf.

It filled him with a warmth that he had not felt in many years.

Severus caught the eyes of Regulus, and saw the unmistakable pride in them.

Slytherins would never put themselves in the position of being scrutinized that his entire House has just done so for him.

"You gave them what we didn't have. Someone who would fight for them. Now, they fight for you."

Severus felt his eyes sting at Regulus' unspoken words.

"Was Heir Black nothing but a pawn for you as well? The man had lost nearly everything, sacrificed nearly everything for your cause. Yet, you couldn't even give him the decency of making sure he had his tribunal, which was his right." Dumbledore had allowed a man who was innocent to languish in Azkaban, while knowingly watching as true supporters of the Dark Lord were left free.

"Or was it more convenient for you to ignore any possibility of him being innocent for your own agenda?" The viciousness, the accusation in Theodore Nott's words left everyone breathless.

It couldn't be true.

Yet, why was it so difficult to believe that?

Amelia sat straighter as the pieces started to fall together, creating a picture she did not like. She caught Sirius' eye and saw something that made it all the worse.

Rather, it was something she didn't see; surprise.

The thought had already crossed Sirius' mind. Not only that, but he also already believed it was true.

Amelia couldn't help but glare at her old Headmaster. If it were true, he would have a lot more to worry about than Voldemort.

"You and the Dark Lord have more in common than you realize." Theo said with one last sneer before he sat back down in his place.

No one saw as Blaise grabbed and held onto Theo's trembling hand.

“There were no problems, were there? ”

***“No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but he was taken out safely before out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”***

Over the bundle of blankets, Dumbledore and McGonagall bent forward to peer inside. A baby boy could be seen inside, fast asleep. Under a thick, unruly tuft of jet-black hair

Although tension permeated throughout the Great Hall, the accusations hurled around still echoing off the walls, ringing in their ears, did not stop many from cooing at the description of a sleeping baby Harry.

Harry's face burned crimson.

"You were the most precious little thing in the world. I loved you from the moment I found out your mother was pregnant, but I fell deeper in love when I held you for the first time. Merlin, nothing filled me with more contentment than watching you sleep peacefully. I could watch you for hours dreaming away, watching the rise and fall of your tiny chest and never get bored. No love runs deeper, is more consuming than the love you have for your child." Sirius said as he stared lovingly, devotedly at the most important and precious part of him.

All the parents, or those who had raised children as if they were their own, gazed upon their children with the same look worn by Sirius.

Those who had those looks directed at them all felt their faces burn, regardless of age, as that warm pleasant feeling spread through them that only a parent's love could cause.

He had a strangely shaped cut on his forehead, resembling a bolt of lightning.

Harry self-consciously patted his fringe down, trying to hide the scar that had cursed him his whole life.

“That was where —?” whispered Professor McGonagall, unable to fully voice her question.

Sirius had nearly put Harry on his lap as he held his son to him at the reminder of how close to death his boy had come at so young. Remus too, kept a strong hold of Harry, remarkably remaining aware of his enhanced strength so as not to hurt his boy while his emotions were so chaotic.

Regulus had somehow managed to wrap both his arms around one of Harry's legs like a koala bear, his chin resting on Harry's knee. He stared with somber gray eyes at his nephew.

Regulus was praying to every deity he could think of that he was wrong. That the foul Magick that he had Sacrificed his life to be rid of had not lodged itself to this boy who he already loved so deeply.

“Indeed,” answered Dumbledore. "That scar will remain with him for the rest of his life."

"Unfortunately." Harry couldn't help but grumble under his breath.

“Is there nothing you could do about it, Dumbledore?”

"Even if I were able to, I would not do so. Scars can be useful in certain situations.

Regulus snapped his head around to look at Dumbledore so quickly that it was a miracle he had not broken his neck.

Grey eyes crackled, a lightning storm ready to ravage unimaginable damage to all those in its path, narrowed as they pierced the old man. Wishing nothing more than to crack open his skull and find out everything he knows, all of his secrets.

If he was right, if Dumbledore had known, there would be nothing to stop Regulus from killing the man.

As a matter of fact, I have one myself that shows an exemplary map of the London Underground above my left knee. It is best to get this over with as soon as possible. Give him here, Hagrid."

Grey eyes roiling like storms of biblical proportions, promising nothing but wrath and devastation glared at Dumbledore.

All Sirius wanted, had begged for, was to keep and raise his son. To love him and give him the childhood and life he deserved. To give him what Sirius had dreamed of when he was a child because there was no way he would have allowed his son to grow up the way Sirius had.

Now he is forced to listen to how, in spite of what Sirius wanted, after giving up his son when they each needed each other most, Dumbledore spoke as if it was so easy to leave Harry in the care of others.

Giving his son to Hagrid was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

Taking Harry in his arms, Dumbledore turned toward the Dursleys' residence.

"Is it possible for me to say good-bye to him, sir? ” asked Hagrid. It must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss that he gave Harry with his massive, shaggy head bent over him. Suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl reminiscent of a dog that has been wounded.

"It was so difficult to leave him. I didn't want to. Not after everything that happened. You are stronger than any of us can comprehend, Sirius, in your love for Harry. I don't know how you were able to give him to me." Great big tears rolled down the apple of Hagrid's cheeks, disappearing into his beard.

"It took everything in me to do so. I was only able to because I thought you would be able to get him to safety, and give me the chance to capture the biggest threat to Harry then, Peter." The devotion to his son made many children who had never truly experienced the unconditional love a parent has for their child made them yearn for it as they listened to the open love the Black Heir constantly talked about his son with.

“Shhh!" Professor McGonagall hissed, “You will awaken the Muggles.”

"S-s-sorry," Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in a handkerchief with spotted patterns. “But I c-c-can’t bear the thought of it - Lily and James dead — and poor little Harry forced ter live amongst Muggles —”

He followed much of what he did then as tears cascaded down his face.

Even with the pain of hearing about his parents' deaths, Harry couldn't help but give his gentle giant of a friend a soft smile at hearing how Hagrid reacted to having to leave Harry. Knowing that his loyal friend had deeply cared for him even all those years ago made affection well up in him for the man.

Hagrid returned his smile with a watery one of his own.

"It is indeed very sad, but Hagrid, get a handle on yourself, or we will be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting his arm gingerly.

"I said it more to myself than to Hagrid. It took everything in me to hold myself together and not break apart right there. With James and Lily gone, you being placed with those people, the fear and reservation I had about that decision, I was barely holding on and was close to becoming a blubbering mess." Professor McGonagall said as she dabbed at her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears.

"It's okay, Professor. You don't have to explain, I understand. Besides, I already know I'm your favorite." Harry said as sincerely before he added that last bit cheekily. Wanted to try to bring a smile to his Head of House's face. He was rewarded when she let out a watery chuckle.

"So much like your father, both of them." Professor McGonagall said with deep fondness.

Stepping over the low garden wall, Dumbledore walked to the front door. Upon reaching the doorstep, Harry was gently laid down,

"Did you just say that you left Harry on their doorstep? At night, in November, when it was supposed to rain?" Andromeda seethed in a lethal hiss that was more venomous than a Basilisk.

Narcissa looked at Dumbledore as if he were a bug that she had stepped on, her face twisted in disgust.

Mrs. Weasley looked too incensed to string two words together, but her eyes held a world of betrayal and wrath as she stared at the leader of their Order.

Sirius and Remus were vibrating in barely contained fury. The only thing holding them back from releasing their violent thoughts was the presence of the boy in question.

Fred twitched as if he was about to attack the Headmaster himself, despite the fact that he stood no chance against the man. Actually, with the way he was feeling, the rage coursing through his veins at the way the old man had left the love of his life, outside on a late fall night, like he was nothing more than trash. Like he wouldn't become the one to carry Fred's entire heart in his hands.

There was outrage throughout the Great Hall.

"That doesn't even cover the danger he faced with the Death Eaters on the rampage they were on after Voldemort's defeat. Your actions could have gotten him killed." Andromeda did not yell but the furor in her voice spoke with more volume than shouting ever could.

The outrage quickly mixed in with fear at the image the once Black woman created.

"I can assure you that I had given Harry every precaution possible to protect him from any and all danger." Dumbledore somehow managed to remain calm in the face of all the acrimony thrown at him.

"I had my reasons for acting as I did." Dumbledore claimed, his voice even.

"There is no reason that you should have left him out there. That you could not knock on their door and at least place him directly in their arms." Andromeda snarled as her seething rage finally boiled over.

"Yes, there was." Regulus said quietly. His words cut through the Hall.

Regulus' eyes, eyes that all Blacks shared, stared directly into those of Dumbledore's, before he looked into those of his eldest cousin present.

"It's because he knew that there was no way the Muggles would accept Harry. So he gave them no choice in the matter. He forced Harry on them, because he had plans that relied on them taking Harry in. It didn't matter if it was willingly or unwillingly. All that mattered was that they took him in. Am I right, Headmaster?" Regulus' eyes once more pierced through Dumbledore as he asked his question.

He didn't need an answer, he already knew.

They both did.

"Blood Wards." Whispers grew as everyone took in the young Black brother's words.

"I wanted to provide Harry with the best protection possible." Those words broke Regulus' calm visage.

Quicker than any of them could track, Regulus stood up.

"Harry would have been safest with my brother. With his father. You had him taken from the person who would have protected him better, more fiercely, than anyone else could." This man had used the lives of his brother and nephew as pawns in his game of chess against the Dark Lord. All of his plans were built on their sacrifice, their losses, their pain.

Regulus would not sit by and allow it any longer. He would force the man not just to acknowledge, but to understand what his mistakes, what his schemes had cost them.

"You seem to have this tendency where you think you know best, where you assume that you can make decisions for everyone around you. Including about Magick that you have spent most of your life persecuting." How many Slytherins were forced to join the Dark Lord, for wanting to stay loyal to Magick, to Dark Magick, and felt that the Dark Lord was the only option to do so?

"Yet, you use those Magicks when it suits you. Thinking you are above everyone else." Yet, the man who had been the main reason they were pushed to the Dark Lord in the first place, used the same Magick that they loved and as such could never fight for the man who had been instrumental in outlawing most of it.

"You use them, even when you know little about them. You think you know more about Dark Magick, Blood Magick than a Black? Tell me Headmaster, what was the fatal flaw of your plan in setting up the Blood Wards?" Regulus sneered at the man.

"For Blood Wards to work, their anchor has to accept the bond completely and with an open heart." Narcissa said, her gaze on her youngest cousin. Memories of the lessons they all had of the Magicks that were a part of them, just as much as their hearts, flashed through her mind.

"Blood Magick, specifically Blood Magicks in regards to family and protection, is based not only on blood, but the feelings of those involved. It is based in the heart, where we hold those we love, which pumps blood through our veins." Andromeda said, repeating the teachings that came easier than breathing.

"Blood can bond yes, but it is more like a brick wall without mortar. Bonds are strengthened by the emotions connected to them. For protection, Blood Wards would need strong, positive emotions. The more you put into it, love, care, safety, trust, loyalty, the stronger and more powerful it is. On the other hand, if the bond was built unwillingly, grudgingly, resentfully, it would provide the bare minimum of protection, if any at all. It is why Blood Adoptions are so absolute. Even if the parent who had been the one to adopt the child died, the child would still be considered theirs. During the Adoption, you have to accept the child, wholly, completely, with every fiber of your being as if they are already yours, for the bond to take effect." During the second half of his explanation, Sirius gazed at his son, brimming with so much love and devotion that Harry felt tears sting his own.

He already knew it, he knew that Sirius loved him, but hearing him explain a bit about how the Blood Adoption had worked, how deeply the man would have had to love him even before he became Harry's father, made Harry need to choke back the tears from how full his heart felt.

Yet, a part of Harry ached as well at the thought of all the years together they had lost.

"Your fatal flaw, Headmaster, is that you believed forcing a Blood Ward on someone who had no other option, who would only accept Harry grudgingly, would be enough. Now the Dark Lord is back, and my nephew barely escaped with his life. Tell me, do you truly believe you did what was best for him?" With one last piercing look at the Headmaster, Regulus took his seat once more.

In his cloak, he pulled out a letter, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and returned to the other two.

"Not only did you leave him on their doorstep, the only thing you left to explain everything was a letter. Even she deserved the decency of finding out about her sister's death from you personally. Not reading about it in a letter." Andromeda couldn't help but scold the Headmaster once more. Regardless of what her relationship was like with her little sister, it would have killed her to find out about her death. More so, having to read about it in a letter.

The three of them stood and looked at the bundle for a full minute; Hagrid's shoulders trembled, Professor McGonagall blinked her eyes rapidly.

Both mentioned were doing the same as their past selves.

Those who had known and loved the Potters mourned once more for the couple, and how their son had been robbed of his parents.

The twinkling light that usually radiates from Dumbledore's eyes was absent.

Harry could see that Dumbledore's eyes were lacking that twinkle once more.

He knew it wasn't only because his mistakes were being brought to light, it was because he had made them in the first place.

The Headmaster accepted his mistakes and misjudgments, and would not shy away from them. Nor did he expect the ones he had hurt most to forgive him. He just hoped that he was given a chance to make things right. Even if he did not deserve it.

Harry hoped that after everything, he would be able to give the man that chance. Even with everything he was learning, the accusations that were made, he still loved the man.

“Well,” said Dumbledore finally, “that’s all there is to it. There is no reason for us to remain here. It may be a good idea to attend the festivities."

Everyone knew the three of them would not be celebrating.

Harry still flinched at the fact that people had celebrated. The cause for their celebrations had cost Harry his family.

“Yes,” Hagrid replied in a very muffled voice, “I will return Sirius' bike to him. G’night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir.”

"I still have your bike. You can have it back." Hagrid had said with a teary-eyed smile to Sirius.

Unable to speak, Sirius nodded his head with a grateful smile to the other man.

Hagrid's smile widened, in understanding.

Sirius really loved that bike. Every time he thought of it, he could hear the squeals and peals of laughter from his son singing in the air.

The large man wiped his streaming eyes with the sleeve of his jacket before mounting the motorcycle and igniting the engine; with a roar, the motorcycle came to life and Hagrid took off into the night.

It is my hope that I will see you soon, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said, nodding to her. In response, Professor McGonagall blew her nose.

In a discrete manner, Professor McGonagall attempted to do the same.

Turning around, Dumbledore walked back down the street. Upon reaching the corner, he retrieved the silver Put-Outer. Once he clicked it, twelve balls of light sped back to their streetlamps, causing Privet Drive to glow orange and a tabby cat to be visible from the opposite end of the street. The bundle of blankets could just be made out on the step of number four.

Nearly the whole Hall showed their displeasure in one way or another at the reminder of Harry being left on a doorstep, at night, in November, with the forecast saying that it was going to rain.

"Good luck to you, Harry," he whispered.

"I'm definitely going to need it." That instilled no hope in anyone.

After turning on his heel and a sweep of his cloak, he disappeared.

As the wind ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, it was impossible to imagine anything astonishing could happen there. As he rolled over inside his blankets, Harry Potter remained asleep. His small hand closed on the letter beside him, and he slept on, unaware that he was famous and unaware that he would be woken soon by Mrs. Dursley's screams.

Many in the Great Hall winced, none more than Severus Snape, as they all had heard the shrillness of the woman's voice already.

Upon opening the door in the morning to put out the milk bottles, nor did he realize that he would be harassed and pinched by his cousin Dudley....

Dudley shifted guiltily, as nerves ran through him knowing how he had behaved all those years, his cruelty to his cousin, would soon be put on full display.

Harry caught his eye and gave his cousin a small comforting smile. Dudley couldn't help but think that he did not deserve his cousin's support, but was grateful for it nonetheless.

It was impossible for him to know that, at this very moment, secret meetings were taking place across the country, and in hushed voices people were saying, “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived! ”

With that, Albus marked the page and looked up from the book.

"Who would like to read next?" He asked.

No one really wanted to read it. Everyone was hesitant about what it would hold. The first chapter was difficult enough to get through. All the emotions that it conjured took a toll on many.

Listening was one thing. To have to be the one to read it aloud to everyone was something completely different.

"I will." Theodore Nott said, staring challengingly at the Headmaster.

The Headmaster nodded amicably, obligingly floating the book over to the fifth year Slytherin boy.

Chapter Two: The Vanishing Glass

"Oh bloody, buggering hell." Harry groaned as he covered his face with his hands.